ayelenalvarez

[polarsirens]

will come back to answer asks later but. popping by to say. i’m now left with five to six comic ideas post finale and i’m not sure how i’ll ever spin all these plates all at once

(safe to say you’ll see some more neverafter for weeks to come….. i know there’s a mr matt mercer dm season coming in may but i can’t. i need to process.)

[llamagoddessofficial]

A very romantic commission from @skelliefanatic! This one made me very jealous of the Reader insert, not gonna lie.

---

“human.”

Nightmare’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. The large, elegant fireplace at the centre of his castle was surprisingly nice to stare at, even if doing so made you so frequently lose track of both time and your mind. You lifted your head from the arm of the couch, staring across the ornate room at him- he was sitting in a chair by his oak writing desk. He was watching you, intently, with that strange unreadable expression he always had. His tentacles, usually writhing around, were simply draping down from his shoulders like a living inky cloak. 

“are you alright?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

... A short exhale, from his nasal cavity. His eyelight changed into a shape you recognised as annoyance.

“my asking was a formality. i can smell the tears from here.” He closed the book on his desk. “what happened today?”

You looked back toward the fire, self-consciously wiping off your wet cheeks now that he’d made note of them. “... I don’t really want to talk about it.”

You didn’t see how his socket twitched, but you didn’t need to see it. You knew that statement would upset him. Nightmare was strange, like that; he told you so little about himself, he divulged almost no information. But at the same time, he really didn’t like it when you didn’t want to tell him things about you. He never liked it when you didn’t want to indulge him.

“you don’t want to talk about it?” You heard his chair creaking, probably as he put his arm over the back of it. You had his full attention, now, a cat who realised you were looking away from him. “why not?”

You didn’t turn his way. “Because I’m like... ninety percent certain you did something to my other coworker, last time I complained about them.”

“i would never,” he said, saccharine. “so the problem is a different person, then...?”

... You elected not to say any more. It was the same coworker as before. It was always the same coworker. He was weird, leery, he made advances toward you that made your skin crawl and your stomach turn. And when you rejected him he would make your workday hell in ways you didn’t even want to think about too long. Since he was higher up than you in the proverbial food chain, when he would complain to management that you weren’t being a ‘team player’, it meant nobody took your complaints about his behaviour seriously.

There wasn’t much you could do about it. And considering how Nightmare ‘dealt’ with the last person you openly complained about, you had little desire to have anyone else receive his wrath.

Nightmare’s castle was one of the few breaks you had from the world. One of the few places where you could truly relax. 

... You heard Nightmare stand from his chair. You hardly noticed him approaching. He always walked with no small amount of elegance, his hands casually clasped behind his back. 

“... come on, dear,” he said, leaning over the couch a little. “your pretty soul is so withdrawn, today. you’re usually so lively. i don’t know what to do with myself, when you’re not filling the room with light. i miss it.”

You felt your cheeks flush, at his honeyed words. You were never sure how much of his sweetness was genuine, and how much was to just get what he wanted from you. Which sometimes stung; you found yourself liking Nightmare perhaps more than you should, considering how obviously untrustworthy he was. Your feelings were just something you’d have to deal with on your own.

“I can’t tell you.” You held your proverbial ground. “I know what you’re like.”

It felt strange, saying that. I know what you’re like. As if you knew anything about Nightmare, aside from what he had told you about himself directly.

He tsked. "... i suppose i can't be upset with a perseverance soul, for persevering in not telling me what i want to know."

He moved around the couch, sitting beside you. Why was he so focused on you today? Was he genuinely that upset you weren’t telling him who bothered you? Or was he being more honest than you’d given him credit for when he said he missed you being outgoing?

“is there something else i can do, then?”

...

You finally looked his way.

“... I mean. If you’d like, rather than kill my problems, you could try and cheer me up?”

...

Nightmare visibly paused. 

... His eyelight moved away from you. The speed at which his bravado disappeared was a sight to behold.

“... come on. that isn’t fair. you know i’m not very good at that.”

You tilted your head. “You’re not?” 

“my speciality is negative emotion magic, darling.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure why you were disappointed. “That's ok. I was just messing around.”

...

He sighed.

Suddenly, tentacles were scooping you up, moving you gently away from your spot curled on the sofa arm. You made a small sound of surprise, as the ‘unwilling’ (he really didn’t look all that unwilling) skeleton pulled you in... up against his chest.

“... Are you cuddling me?” you asked, playfully. He was warmer than you thought he’d be. His smell was comforting, deep and complex, cedar and fine wine and obsidian; from your new spot, you couldn't see his face.

He settled into a more comfortable position, his claws gentle on your back. “i’m not good at... good feelings. but for you, i will try.”

... What a sweet thing to say. You could already feel your mood picking up. 

“I... I appreciate it,” you said, letting yourself get comfortable too. It was a surprisingly intimate position. You didn’t mind.

With the way your heart was beating, it was probably a little more than 'didn't mind'.

“though you cannot tell anyone about this,” he murmured.

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. Couldn’t ruin his street cred, huh? Tucked against his chest, as you were, you didn’t see the way his smile grew at the sound of your laughter. A tinge of pride, and a tinge of blush, lighting up his inky face.

You weren’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. You nuzzled closer. “Works for me. I might fall asleep, though.”

“... well. ‘works for me’, too.”

The sound of the softly crackling fire filled your ears. Comfy, protected, with the one you had feelings for- there really wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be. Sleepiness drew over you quickly... too quickly, you wanted to appreciate the moment more.

Nightmare, his face still dusted with cyan blue, started to quietly hum. 

... And then sing.

His voice was warm, and dark, and deeply soothing. His claws traced slowly up and down your back... his possessive instincts were completely satisfied. With your head against his chest, curly hair soft against his collarbone and jaw, you could feel his voice thrumming through your whole body, like a beautiful ancient harp.

“... moon river, wider than a mile,

i’m crossing you in style someday

oh dream maker,

you heart breaker,

wherever you’re going, i’m going your way

two drifters, off to see the world

there’s such a lot of world to see.

we’re after the same rainbow’s end

waiting ‘round the bend

my huckleberry friend

moon river...

... and me.”

... You were asleep before he had finished singing.

Nightmare usually immediately returned you home, after you fell asleep. It was always a convenient time at which to send you back to your world. But...

... This time, his arms settled around you, and he indulged himself in a few hours of cuddling the one he was in love with.

[mingi-banana]

give me more: teaser.

PAIRING: seonghwa x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, smut, soulmate au (more to be revealed later)

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

OMG I am so excited for this!!! Please reblog and leave feedback, it'll mean the world to me <3 and please send in an ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

Enjoy the teaser (and the twist) hehe ;)

♤♤♤♤♤

“Happy birthday to you!”

Cheers erupt from your small party as you embarrassedly rub the right side of your face before closing your eyes and making a wish, hands clasped so tightly together they begin to turn white at the knuckles.

You blow out the candles and then open your eyes slowly to be met with the excited faces of your entourage. Hana immediately leaps at you, giggling in your ear, slightly drunk as always but enough so you can understand what she whispers to you, words slurring a little.

Hana has been your best friend since early primary school years, a bright, cheery young girl throughout the years you'd seen her around, whose disposition had dimmed slightly one day when her lunch tray was knocked over by a group of overexcited boys who paid the sniffing girl no mind. They had continued walking and carried on laughing about which of them would collect the most match attax cards. You had watched the whole interaction while sitting with your own group of friends, and looked on as nobody got up to help the girl who was still sat on the floor in a puddle of her lunch food. So you had sighed and walked over to her, crouching down so the two of you were level and offered her a hand. And the rest, they say, is history.

“So, what does it say?”

Ah, so that would certainly explain the eager faces around you. They aren’t really here for your 20th, it seems, but for the small words that you watch gradually spread across your wrist.

You attempt to pull the sleeves of your hoodie down, but to your dismay, you aren’t wearing one. You'd ditched the hoodie for once to wear an elegant dress, a ruched, figure hugging thing that would’ve seemed beautiful in your eyes had it not lacked one thing. Sleeves.

And they jump at the chance. Hands tug at your arm, which you desperately try to remove from their clutches, but it’s too late. Hana holds your wrist as close to her face as she can, determined to read it first, and out loud at that.

““Hey beautiful, can I get you a…. oh my god”“ she recites, before turning to you and smirking.

She looks over your befuddled expression once, before grinning like a Cheshire cat, “RIGHT! We’re going to the bar.”

 

You moan, complain, and do everything in your power to try and convince your best friend otherwise, but she only laughs at you and continues her determined march while dragging you down the road, telling you how much you'd love this.

“Wait, wait, hold on just a second, Hana… You’re not coming in with me?”

Since an unfortunate incident a year ago, you point-blank refuse to go anywhere near a bar, especially on your own and no matter if there’s a soulmate actually in there or not.

“And how do you know he's in there? He could’ve been offering to get me a blanket,” you protest, feeling your heart rate increase and getting more and more upset by the second.

“Because I do,” she says, with all the confidence in the world, “and there’s no way I’m coming in with you, no way at all! You need to find your man without any distractions, girl.”

“Yeah, like you.” you mutter, eyes downcast as you turn the corner to the bar.

You'd been waiting to turn 20 and see the words on your wrist from the moment your mother told you about the whole process everyone goes through as they become an adult. Sleepless nights you had spent tucked away in the covers in your own small world, thinking up scenarios in which you and your soulmate would meet and cherish the moment together. From wide, excited eyes to wonder and happiness at finally finding the other half of your soul, literally. It filled you with a sense of anticipation, barely able to live properly in the here and now from living in your head so much.

So to find out your soulmate was to meet you in the bar was a bit of a downer, really. Why not in a nice restaurant, or even at a shopping centre?

But no, it just has to be a bar. So much could happen. He could be any old alcoholic or druggie, too drunk to register the moment he's been waiting for his entire life and only to forget it seconds later.

You feel a pair of strong hands grip your shoulders and you shake yourself out of your thoughts, looking up in surprise to be met with Hana’s face inches from your own.

“We’re here! You have your phone, don’t you? So call me if anything goes wrong, which I highly doubt,” she continues, and presses a kiss to your cheek, “I promise you’ll be fine, just sit on your own and wait for him to come up to you. Love you, have fun!”

And she walks behind you, places her hands on your shoulders once again, and pushes you through the doors.

It’s too noisy. Too crowded. Too everything.

As if on autopilot, you make a beeline for the stools near the bartender, the only person who actually seems to have a sane mind on him in this place. He looks at you in amusement and begins to ask why you aren’t enjoying yourself and you tell him in low tones before he gets too loud,

“My soulmate’s here.”

That shuts him up.

He extends a hand.

“I'm Wooyoung,” the man introduces confidently and directs a smile towards you, which falls once he looks at your forlorn expression. “What’s wrong, love?”

You sigh and rest your head in your hands, and Wooyoung barely catches what you say next.

“I don’t like bars, and I’m supposed to meet my soulmate here,” You decide you can trust this overly confident man, and extend your arm out towards him. “Look.”

He catches you off guard by pulling your hand up to his lips and giving it a kiss and you lift your head to see another shit-eating smirk on his face. You want to think he's really handsome but he's not your soulmate and you don’t want to waste your thoughts. You have one goal tonight, and it’s heading out the bar as soon as possible (soulmate attached or not).

“Just joking.” He adds quickly, and this time he looks down and reads the words on your wrist.

He breathes out with a huff.

“Well doesn’t he sound like he's out for a fuck.”

“Wooyoung!” you laugh and hit his arm lightly, and he's about to laugh in return when he hears a drink order being shouted at him.

“Be right back.” he grins and shoots you a wink, and you shake your head in mock exasperation, a smile of your own pulling at your lips.

What a shame Wooyoung isn’t your soulmate.

Speaking of which you do think you should’ve met him by now, whoever he was. You honestly could’ve spent the first few hours of being 20 with your friends like going shopping, going on joyrides, whatever 20 year olds would’ve done. Normal 20 year olds who would’ve met their soulmate naturally instead of guessing where they were going to be and then going to that place in the hopes of meeting them. It was so unfair he had to be an alcoholic, too. What would you have done when the two of you went on a date? Gone to a bar, that’s what. Hana was so stupid for jumping to conclusions and sending you to a bar, of all places, and alone at that! You probably look like such a loner as well, perched on a dirty barstool with your head in your hands. What an utter waste of half an hour of your precious life.

You look at your stupid tattoo once more:

Hey beautiful, can I get you a… oh my god.

You sigh, looking up, and are just about to yell out to Wooyoung that you're leaving and may even return to talk to him again one day, when you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. You stop breathing.

“Hey beautiful, can I get you a –“

You spin around to face your soulmate. Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

“Oh my god.” He finishes as he sees you, almost apologetic.

You can’t quite believe what you're seeing.

“No fucking way.” You manage, eyes as wide as saucers and mouth still open.

And his eyes open up in horror. He pulls up his sleeve and double checks his wrist, mouthing the words you just whispered. He shakes his head and pulls his sleeve back down then stares at you and you can see his chest rise and fall, fingers twitching ever so slightly, and you contemplate doing a runner because this is just so wrong. You can’t believe it’s him.

He doesn’t speak, and you continue to stare back at him, not understanding how he would be your soulmate.

Because the man in front of you is Mr Park Seonghwa.

Your best friend’s dad.

🎶to be continued 🎶

 Taglist: @fallinforwoo @pseudosoobin

[justanamesstuff]

I want to be with you everywhere - Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm happy with this...let me know what you think!! <3 (takes place before part 1 and 2)

Warnings: fluff, the three words, car sex, hard language, 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!

Word count: 3.2 k

Blog Masterlist

Supermarket 

“Matty?” Y/n startled him out of his daydreaming. “My eyes are up here…” she teased him, smiling when his eyes opened a millimetre more due to embarrassment. 

They were trying to empty the shopping trolley with all the food and drinks they brought minutes ago for the barbecue Adam and Carly were going to host in their house. Y/n tried not to think about it because her anxiety would rise to a level she might not be able to keep under control. She already meet Matty’s friends, family, and a lot of people involved in his life during the past few months, even though Y/n still couldn’t get used to be around his friends. She was very aware of how much their opinions weighted on Matty. 

Y/n shook her head, returning to the present moment. Matty was holding a piece of cheese and his mouth was hanging open a bit. His lips and mouth calling for her. He always looked handsome, although that day he was breathtaking. 

“I-” he tried speaking, but his voice got stucked on his throat. “I’m sorry, I just-” the singer left the item inside the booth, rubbing his hands nervously. 

“Matty, it’s alright. I was messing with you.”

“No, I know. I- I wasn't ogling you like a moron, okay?” he tried to justify himself.

Y/n rounded the cart between their bodies, “Baby, I wouldn’t mind if you looked at my cleavage.” she brushed the curls falling on his pretty face, staring at his eyes with care.

“I was looking at your…your body.” he cleared his throat, making her chuckled. She hadn't seen him this nervous in all the months they have dated. Worried popped into her mind. 

“What’s wrong, Matty?” Y/n frowned a little, Matty hated it. 

“I’m trying to say something, but I don’t want to scare you…” Matty let his hands rest on her hips, looking down at his hands create circles on the fabric of Y/n’s dress. 

Y/n kept her silence, waiting for him to be able to express his thoughts. She touched his features, trying to transmit him some calmness. The only thing it would scare her would be him breaking up with her. Her heart skipped a bit thinking about that possibility.

“I was looking, admiring you…maybe a bit like a twat, but I didn’t have my head in the gutter. Well, not fully.” Matty laughed apprehensive. He took a big breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “Y/n…” Matty said. “I can’t believe I’m such a lucky bastard, you…you being this incredible person, so smart, so caring, so damn beautiful.” he shook her body slightly. “You being incredible and wanting to date me…me?” Matty touched his chest with his point finger. 

“I do…so much.” she interrupted his monologue.

“Can’t believe I’m going to say this in the middle of a supermarket car park…” Matty closed his eyes for a second, talking more to himself. “I love you, Y/n. So, so much…everything about you.” Matty spoke, staring into her soul.

Y/n felt a tingling sensation travel all around her body. “You do?” she asked, low.

Matty nodded. “Yes.” he replied. “You don’t have to say it back! I felt the need to say it, because I can’t hi-” 

The frontman couldn’t finish his sentence because Y/n let her lips fell on his. They paused for a little, just taking in the points of contact between their bodies. Matty grew anxious quickly, so he let his hands travel to her back, rubbing his hands up and down. Y/n’s reaction was to smile, which broke the kiss a little.

“I love you so much, Matthew.”

“Why ‘Matthew’?��� he complained. “Sounds like I’m in trouble…” he pouted, not letting her go far from him.

Y/n lift her hands to rest around his shoulders. “You’re in serious trouble, mister. I’m not letting you go so…”

“Won’t complain, really.” 

“I love you, Matty.” the words tasting different when she direct them to the man in front of her, the man of her dreams. 

“Agh, I’ll never get used to this…ever.” Matty let his head hid on the crock of her neck, mumbling incoherences. His stubble and breath tickling her, adding to her giddiness after all the confessions.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Hann and Carly’s house

“Matty!” George screamed in his right ear.

He detached his sight from Y/n profile, who was deep into conversation with Polly about hair products –saying words Matty never heard of. Matty let his eyes fell on his best mate’s smugly face. 

“What?” he spat, bringing his left hand to rest on Y/n’s thigh. 

“Was talking to you.” G crossed his arms on his chest. Matty rolled his eyes at him. “She won’t disappear if you stop looking at her. Y’know that, right?”

“Fuck off.”

“What are you two bickering about now?” Y/n let her hand rest on top of Matty’s. 

“‘bout this one smitten with you.” G said before taking a sip of his drink. “Simp.” he mumbled.

Matty returned to look at Y/n, “Ignore him.” 

“Why? I like what he was saying…” she smiled at him, pushing her body closer to Matty’s.

The frontman let his left arm round her, bringing his girlfriend even closer than before. He left a chaste kiss on her lips, trying not to indulge too much making the rest uncomfortable although at the same time being incapable of not touching and kissing his girl.

Y/n pushed her chest on his, trapping her hands between their bodies. She was wishing to bring him back to her flat or hear his offer to go to his, even though that would be rude. 

The singer backed a little, “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” she searched inside his eyes.

“Y/n.” he warned her.

“Baby, we can’t leave.” Y/n whispered.

“Oh, yes, we can.”

“Matty.”

“Please, Y/n. I need you.” his hand creeped to touch her knee, pleading her. 

“Hey! You two!” Ross broke the tension growing between them. “Find a room.” he joked around, letting Matty use it for his own advantage. 

“Actually, we’re leaving.” he stood up from his chair.

Matty took Y/n’s hands, pushing her slightly to copy his own actions. 

The boys whistled and Charli screamed, “Yes, girl!” 

Matty didn’t stop to say goodbye to the people around the table, he couldn’t care less. The singer was sure they wouldn’t mind and even found it funny. He would put up with the jokes later. 

Y/n let him lead her towards the car, feeling deeply embarrassed by his actions and a bit turned on. 

She turned to her right side, staring at him, “You’re insane, y’know that? I’ve bearly know them…what would they-”

Matty quickly interrupted her rambling, “They’re happy for me…for you. That’s all, baby.” Y/n seated back, trying to calm herself. “C’mon, my love.” The sweet name warmed her inside, but she tried to ignore the feeling. Matty let his hand touch the hem of her dress, then his feathery touch trailed towards the inside of her tight thighs. “I love you.” Matty approached his lips to press kisses on her neck. He disarmed her and Y/n couldn’t help to open her legs wider. “Say it.” 

“What?” she stared back into his brown eyes, full of lust.

“Y/n.” he wasn’t having it.  “Say it.”

The singer didn’t wait for her reply, to move his hand closer to her core. She was hyperaware of his hands touching her skin.

“I love…” Y/n stopped talking when his fingers pushed the fabric on her clit without moving far. The pressure turning her into putty.  

Matty backed his fingers centimetres away,  “You love who?”

“Matty!” she protested, sensing the lack of his digits and her clit pulse. 

“Who, Y/n?”

“I love you. Please, don’t stop.”

“Good girl.” 

Even though he didn’t continue. Matty backed all the way, going to turn the car on, and started driving away from his bandmate’s house. 

Y/n stared at him without believing his actions. One minute he was all over her, and the second later appeared composed like nothing happened. Y/n whined loud. 

“What?” she protested.

“What?” Matty mimicked her voice, staring at the road. 

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.” Matty gripped the steering wheel with both of him hands. 

“Drive me home.” she tried to command, knowing deeply inside he wouldn’t let her go that easily. 

She wasn’t wrong. 

“Baby.”

Y/n bit her lower lip, trying to stay in silence.

“Okay, we’re going to your house then.” Maty sentenced, implying he was part of the plan.

“No, I am going…alone.”

“Absolutely no.” he shook his head, still not looking at her. “Don’t a brat. You just need to wait a few more minutes, and you’ll have everything you want, my love.” Matty said in a rather softly tone. 

“I want you.” she whined, touching the middle of his leg.  

Matty's side glanced at her. “Do as I tell you.” the singer took her hand, lifting it up until it was secured on her own lap.

Y/n pretend to obey the order. For a few minutes, the song blasting on the radio occupied the silence between them. Matty relaxed while driving, oblivious to his girlfriend’s thoughts.

Without hesitation, she felt brave enough to shuffle in her seat, taking her underwear down her legs and finally off. The sudden movement, beside him, made Matty looked between the road and her. 

“What are you doin’?” he asked, feeling a rush of heat taking over his neck and cheeks. 

Y/n ignored him, leaving the piece of cloth between them around the gear lever. She didn’t spare him a glance, driving Matty insane. 

She lifted her dress until it rested on her stomach, showing all of her lower half in all its glory. Y/n touched her chest slightly, teasing herself a little. The expectation growing meanwhile, her hands roamed lower. Matty saw her touched the lower part of her stomach and her body shake due to the cool air hitting her perfectly.  

His girlfriend moaned, throwing her head back, looking for support that finally the seat gave her. Y/n ignored her dripping core, choosing to touch her knees, widening the space between them.

“Y/n..” Matty tried to stop her, but his tone wasn’t exactly harsh or believable. 

“Mhm?” she asked, her eyelids heavy.

She chuckled when he didn’t answer, stopping the car under the traffic light, waiting for the greenlight. Y/n traced the interior of her legs, feeling she was more than ready to welcome him. Her digits found the knob of nerves, circling slowly even when her fingers were eager to go faster. The sensations taking over her, controlling her hips. Y/n griped the side of the car sit with her free hand, helping with the friction. 

Matty pressed the gas pedal when he could. Since her flat wasn’t really far from Hann’s house, they reached their destination rapidly. Matty stopped the car in a dark part of her block. Turning to look at Y/n, who wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. All of her attention were in the knot on her stomach.

“Matty” she moaned, asking for him to touch her. 

“Oh, no…you get yourself into this. Now you’re going to finish it.” Matty palmed himself through his trousers, staring at the sweet scene in front of his eyes.

“Please.”

Even though Matty couldn’t help to direct her from afar, “Stop teasing yourself.” he command. “Test if you’re ready for one finger, baby.” His left hand coming to rest on top of her seat car. 

“I’m so wet, baby.” Matty groaned when the information reached his ears, his eyes travelling down to the part of her body dripping on his car seat. He didn’t care if she ruined it. 

He nodded, unbuttoning his trousers, making a lot of noise with his belt, “You look so good like this, my love.” Matty encourage her. Y/n opened her eyes, looking at him push his trousers down, but keep his boxers. 

“Matty-”

“Keep going.” he said. “Ready for another?” Matty let his hand touch hers, taking her finger out of her pussy and bringing it to his mouth. He moaned around her fingers. Y/n didn’t dare to look at other part than his face, in a deep trance with his beauty and him hollowing his cheeks while tasting her.

“Yes, yes.”

Matty selected her middle and ring finger, pushing the others down, and without breaking eye contact he brought them closer to her core. Her sight tried to follow their intertwined hands, but her boyfriend wasn’t happy,  “Look at me, Y/n.” he ordered and she obeyed. His eyes tingled, knowing how receptive she was, how she let him have all the power over her. Y/n trusted him, Matty’s dominant side loved that.

Matty and Y/n stared at each others, while she felt the pressure of her fingers on her entrance. She gasped when he impulsed her fingers to get inside slowly. Y/n closed her eyes a bit because everything was getting too much, too intense. “Look at me, I said.” his other hand travel to the back of her head, holding her nape. “That’s it, baby girl.” Matty tilted his chin up, proud of himself.

Y/n’s boyfriend knew her body like the back of his hand. Matty made her fingers brushed the rough patch, making her lips lift, and an explosive sensation crawled from her small back all the way down to explode all around her. Matty kept guiding her hand, helping Y/n ride her high until she collapsed on her seat once more. 

“Open.” the frontman presented her own hand in front of her mouth. The skin of her fingers wrinkled by all the wetness created a rare sensation against her tongue. Y/n licked his fingers, although she pushed her hand out of her hand, gasping for some air. “Are you okay?” he checked, afraid it could be too much for her. Matty stroked her hair, soothing Y/n.

“More than that.” she gifted him a drunken smile. 

“Okay, let’s go upstairs.” Matty went to push his trousers back up, even though she stopped him.

Y/n quickly launched herself closer, placing her hand on top of his. “No.”

“No?” he crooked his eyebrow.

“I can’t wait any more.”

Before Matty could even ask about it, Y/n moved to straddle him. 

“Y/n, someone might see.” Matty looked around the empty street, knowing probably most of the neighbours were sleeping or out at the same time, he feared for their privacy. 

“I know.”

Matty laughed, “Naughty girl.” his hands squeezing her hips. 

Y/n’s boyfriend admired how she opened her dress, showing she wasn’t wearing a bra, hence why Matty could scan her naked body fully in front of his eyes. He was a lucky bastard indeed.

“Fuck.”

They didn’t wait a single more second, Matty pushed her still wet core to connect with his under the thin material of his boxers. Y/n was still dripping and staining his boxers, making Matty moaned with the sensation. So close and so far.

Her hips started moving back and forward rhythmically, trying to find the perfect one for both of them. Matty didn’t move his hands, slightly guiding his girlfriend.

His mouth swiftly found the expanse of her breast, biting on the under side of her left one. Y/n replied, whining uncontrollably, moving faster and throwing her head back. Once more, she was getting closer and closer to the edge, although this time she wanted him buried inside her. 

“Matty.” 

He spoke back, with his eyes admiring her nipples move and his hands holding her tits together, “Yes, baby?”

“I need you, now.”

Matty smirked, changing the direction of his eyes. Without adding more words, he detached his hands from her body, leaning to reach the car glove box behind Y/n. He groped a hand inside, searching for a condom. 

Y/n took advantage of his distraction, pushing his boxers under his balls. His cock was dripping with pre-cum and her mouth craved to taste him. She swiped it with her finger, gathering enough to taste it. Matty shook his head, while ripping the plastic. 

“Be glad we’re not inside because I’d be punishing you for that.” he said, pushing the rubber down his shaft. 

“I hope you do.” Y/n knew she was playing with fire.

“Y/n.” her name on his lips was the perfect anthem for her ears. “Ready?” he brought her body closer again, stopping when she was just above his tip.

“So ready.” she moaned out. 

Matty brushed the tip of his cock, teasing between her entrance and clit. Y/n let him without protesting, knowing she was close to get what she wanted for so long. Finally, he trusted inside her, looking directly into her eyes. Y/n allowed her body to fell forward, their foreheads connecting, meanwhile her hands took his neck between her hands.

“How come you’re always so tight, baby?” Matty’s voice came strangled, putting all his force to not come just yet. “Can I move?”

“Yes, move- please, move.” 

Matty nodded silently, grabbing her hips, pushing Y/n’s body up and continuity down. His mouth travelled from her lips, after leaving a sweet kiss, towards her beck and collarbones. He licked and bite every part of her skin, wanting to mark her as his. Although the best for him was meeting her nipples again. Nothing compared to her beautiful tits jumping by trusts. Nothing compared to Y/n’s beautiful soul and body. 

“Matty-”

“‘doing so well, baby.” he praised her. “Always so good for me.”

“Faster, please.”

“Already coming, baby?” he leaned backwards, replacing his mouth with his palms.

“Mhm.”

Y/n pulsed around him, so his voice sounded low and raspy,“Who makes you come this fast?” the question going directly to her centre. 

“You, Matty…is always you.”

Matty noticed she was indeed very close to her release. He brought his right thumb to circle on top of her clit, while his hands clenched to her hips like if his life depended on it. Y/n let herself go, making her movements quicker than before, pushing Matty to the edge. 

The singer pushed his pelvis up to meet her warmth, meanwhile Y/n’s body arching in pleasure offered him his tits again. Matty didn’t wait a second. He reached his peak bruising the soft skin of her chest. Y/n collapsed on top of Matty, feeling how his arms held her.

Accelerated breaths filled the void inside the car.

“Are you okay?” Matty brushed her back, sneaking his hands under the fabric of her dress, which shielded them from the outside world. He didn’t want to pull out just yet.

“Yes.”

“Can you walk?” he inquired. 

Y/n giggled on his neck, filling his stomach with something closer to complete happiness. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Healy.” 

He joined her, laughing of his own question. Matty left a few kisses on the side of her head.

“Let’s go…I’m not done with you.” 

Y/n pushed her body back, feeling ready to continue the night with him inside her bed. 

[oldsargasso]

🤭

Winner is definitely one of those people who does not act as mature as his age LOL. DEAN’S CUSTOMER SERVICE SPIRIT SHFJFJF

I was gonna say Kim is probably bad at letting people take care of him when he’s sick but you know what! He’d probably be good at that too, the bastard!! (But oh, I’m having thoughts now about Kenta providing care for him the first time after the whole Tony incident, and it bringing back memories and complicated emotions about that time he totally definitely canonically tended to Kim’s wounds when he was captured)

And oh Kenta, oh baby, he WOULD have trouble understanding the appeal of his body, it just would not compute to him (I need to see him get shy when it finally starts to sink in, please)

Winner would be the WORST (when is he not) to learn on because he’d be shifting and complaining the ENTIRE TIME. And yet it would give Dean very important feedback on what happens if he leaves it too loose in this spot, or too tight in that one etc etc—whereas Kenta would simply Not Say Anything unless continuously prompted by Kim. 

Dean *has* worked hard and deserves recognition and Kim is gonna tell him what a good job he’s doing and how appreciated he is and it is NOT going to make me emotional.

Kim 🥺🥺🥺🥺 this practically perfect dude and his three loser boyfriends

Also we DO DESERVE TO KNOW EVERYONE’S BIRTHDAYS, THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION

noooo I canNOT think about kim being cared for! especially by Kenta which 100% happened while Kim was Tony's captive - do you think that's when Kim started to realise what a gentle soul Kenta truly is? even when Kenta was holding a knife to his throat, the hand in his hair wasn't pulling hard or forcing him to strain his neck. lol I do kinda love the idea of Kim being a terrible patient though. he's gotta have a flaw!

I need the other three to have like, a campaign to make him understand. or maybe a game to see who can get away with the most blatant innuendo or...I can't think of the word. but like making excuses like 'oh you should take your shirt off while doing XYZ 😇 you don't want to get it dirty'

(listen...very very occasionally Winner is not the worst. it probably hasn't ever occurred onscreen but I believe in my terrible pathetic emotional support goon okay. he just wants to race cars and wave a gun around!!) but YES Kenta would absolutely keep quiet about being uncomfortable (back to the not safewording when he should that you mentioned - it's not THAT bad so why would he say anything? Kenta knows how to endure, more than anything.) but omg 🥺 Kim constantly checking in 🥺 and then with Winner they're like "okay we GET IT" (while still not actually crossing any lines) in my head Winner just isn't into the rope thing at all. why would he not wanna touch? why would he not wanna be touched? but perhaps there is a tiny little EMOTION occurring when he sees how peaceful it makes Kenta. and how proud Dean is.

I'm like sick over Dean getting praised. every time I think about actually writing polycule fic it's the first thing I go to I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. (honestly it's so blatant you wonder how the rest of x hunter weren't getting Dean to do literally anything - Kenta had one conversation where he said something remotely nice about Dean and Dean went and sabotaged a car over it. imagine what could have been.) anyway. imagine the first time Winner says something genuinely appreciative for Dean. (I gotta go work on my winnerdean fic lol)

I honestly need like a coffeetable book of everything about everyone on this show. birthdays, favourite foods, how they all got into racing. an explanation of how everyone's finances work lol.

[probabludaistkf]

A flower blooms in early winter chpt 3 - pancakes!

an: I’m not very good at writing comedy :(

You drag yourself to the living room still thinking about the dream. It’s best if you forget so you grab the brush from yesterday, sit yourself and begin brushing your tails to help you calm down.  Each stroke was careful and methodical, slicking back each and every hair with delicate strokes. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Vox’s voice startled you and his strange monkey plush even more so, you flung your arms up in the air in surrender and the brush hits the ground. “I’m not here to arrest you; I’m not the police… Well I was that one time but that’s a different story.” You lower your arms and yell at him for startling you, well softly of course it’s still early you don’t want to disturb anyone. 

“Why would you even become an officer! They suck!”

“I did it for a video one time don’t worry (or look it up for that matter)…” 

“What was that last part?”

“Nothing!” Your eyes dart straight to the door but he block your path. Alas he’s no match for these sick moves! You slide back and forth against the floor and Vox can’t keep up effectively breaking his ankles. As he topples to the ground you frog leap over him and make a run straight to his room. Your tiny legs carry you through the hallway to be greeted by two doors. You can’t seem to recall which was yours and which was Vox’s. Just as your eyes dart between both of them a certain demon intercepts your path. You try your ankle breaking technique but it’s ineffective! He just watches you dart from side to side however it does give you an idea. You continue your manoeuvres slowly increasing in speed until he’s in a daze. It’s super effective! You wait till the perfect moment then… NOW! You dash for the door to the right. You noticed he was hovering his hand near that handle so it must be the right room, right? Your guess was correct! Vox dashed in after you but you were too fast climbing, running, jumping even scratching your way to his unlocked computer. A foolish move. But now you were vulnerable in that gamer chair and he was charging straight at you; like a squid you propelled to the side sending him flying straight into his wardrobe. You quickly open YouTube and type Vox Akuma police to be greeted by something you’d never expect… An asmr bf audio

Your chair slowly swivels round revealing an expression of pure disgust and confusion and his face is one of guilt and embarrassment. No words need to be spoken. And you both quietly exit the room.

“Let’s agree to never discuss this with those who don’t know. Okay?”

“You can keep it secret but I’m telling everyone when I get…”

“Hmm…”

“I can’t go home can I?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“FUCK!” You missed being able to cause general mayhem and mischief at the mansion. When you weren’t being pampered you were hanging out with him was your favourite pastime. Tears began to fill your eyes again 

“Hey hey hey. None of that. Uuhh you hungry?”

            Vox had suggested making pancakes which just so happened to be your favourite; you almost surprised him when your eyes lit up but what really shocked him was the power in your tails. As you just demonstrated, when extremely happy it is possible for you to take off like miles tails prower. 

            You and Vox found a recipe and worked tirelessly on these pancakes, pouring your heart and soul into them until finally the batter was done. Vox had made you sit to the side because you were too hyper and you also almost knocked over the batter. Vox probably didn’t want you to knock over the frying pan. He had also complained about how your fur might get into the food and how you kept trying to eat everything. It reminded you of how ____ would call you a troublemaker for all the same reasons whenever he was cooking for you. Noticing your ears droop, Vox calls your attention to show off his pancake flipping skills. It was impressive watching him flip them behind his back and with his eyes closed and he occasionally lets a pancake flop onto his head, just to get a chuckle out of you. Vox soon calls you over and asks you to decorate your stack however you please. You put a dollop of butter and drown it in syrup, scattering berries all over it all while Vox stares in a confused horror wondering why you aren’t dead yet. The very minute you sat down the pancakes were gone, quite literally.

“W-where did they go?” You just devoured them I the blink of an eye. Like I blinked and they were gone.”

You burp in response.

“Right…” Vox makes the vital error of closing his eyes to process what just happened.

“You ate mine too?!” He stands in complete horror and shock as you just stare innocently back even having the audacity to tilt your head slightly as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. “MY PANCAKES!!” Muttering to himself Vox decided to make toast instead which magically vanished also. “Oh! You little shi-“

[demoiselettes]

Hello hello!! I can never get over your stuff and this time I’m here for a mash up :D

I am a girl who goes by she/her personally but I genuinely don’t care if people get my pronouns wrong. Call me a he and I would still respond. Though I wouldn’t correct anyone despite being proud that I am a girl. I am Hispanic but despite my strict culture I am very open to anyone and will welcome anyone with open arms. Any gender, background, looks, Even people who want to try to change for the better are welcome. I have dark brown/black (I don’t know depends on who you ask) that goes down to my lower back. But I am trying to grow it longer. My hair is always on a side braid on my left side and it’s only down during special occasions. I also have brown eyes with long eyelashes. I reach to a height of 5’4 and still hit my head, arms and legs on everything despite being average height. I really don’t enjoy getting angry and because of that it has been said by other people that I have a lot of patience. Wayyy too much patience apparently. I can just happily stand there while someone throws insult after insult and I would not do anything about it, and will wait until the end of the world if someone wants to tell me something but doesn’t have the guts to do it. I will wait. Somebody spilled something on me on purpose, don’t worry I always wear an undershirt just in case a clothing malfunction happens :D it’s really hard for me to get angry as I prefer to calmly talk through my way from tough situations. I really dislike holding on to a strong reliable image that people will put onto themselves to either his trauma or just to show there’s nothing to worry, because in the end of the day you need someone to cry on. I am more than willing to be that person can rely on without worrying about their strong person image. I will not tell a soul what happened until given permission too. I am extremely loyal and hold the people I love extremely close to my heart. Tell me a really private secret because I accidentally found out, you can torture me until I die and I will still not say a word. Having a really tuff living situation, stay at my place. Anything my friends give me I have cherish and kept safe for many years. Give me a rock and I will still love that rock to death. Just because it came from someone I love. I always keep a look out but not just for my friends but strangers too. My friends will complain that I keep disappearing and when they find me I am helping a stranger with their stuff. It’s really hard to avoid things when you have perfect vision. Thought I have a bad habit of undermining that things i do. I have a large passion for art but in my mind my art is the most mediocre art out there. I am pretty skinny and have a decent appearance, but in my mind I am not pretty. But I am fine with that. But sadly enough I do suffer from anxiety and with social anxiety. I will start fucking shaking if a situation goes wrong and its my fault. I have become non verbal in situations I am extremely nervous in because I can feel my voice cracking in fear so I mostly depend on body language. I’m slowly getting better at handling it by my self. It’s a work in progress. I am an artist at heart and not just with one medium but with all kinds of mediums. This leads me to fixing all kinds of things for people which I still enjoy in the end. I don’t mind loud people but don’t speak up on me and suddenly start yelling cause I will jump. I adore kids and will take care of any kids who need it. I often prefer to show my affection in physical touch like hugs, hand holding, or just doing a funny dance because we hear music in the background. I am traditional when it comes to my culture because the only food I know how to make is traditional Hispanic foods. I’m not kidding. But I love learning about new things.

That’s all I got for the match up. Thank you very much if you take this

Eventide

I match you with Masachika Kumeno!

•This is a bit risky since i don’t know much about him

•But he’s too adorable let’s goooo

•Masachika was likely drawn to your unusual patience and kindness

•I mean he, himself, is regarded as having both of these qualities, but sometimes he does get upset

•You, on the other hand, don’t which is why he couldn’t help but want to befriend you, since he thinks it’s quite hard to find good people

•He worries about you a lot

•Though Masachika approves of being nurturing and kind towards others, he doesn’t like to see you take the brunt of everything without retaliating

•So, say someone is insulting you and you aren’t doing anything about it, he’ll stand in front of you and lightly scold your offender

•He wouldn’t get physical unless that person says/does something really low and even then he’d rather not have you witness it

•He adores and admires the fact that you rarely get angry and have the ability to remain calm even in.. ah, troublesome situations

•But he often reminds you not to bottle anything up, and that he’ll be there to listen or to talk to if ever you need to rant

•As a demon slayer, there’s always the chance that today might be your last sobs which is why he makes sure to remind you of his love everyday

•No, seriously, he doesn’t find any shame in admitting his feelings for you

•He isn’t exactly like Zenitsu going around begging you to marry him, but complimenting you is a routine thing for him

•Though rare, he does have times when he breaks down from the memories of his brother’s death, he can’t remain strong everyday right?

•He loves it when you comfort him

•Wrap an arm around him and listen to him sob out his story and he’s yours for the day

•He values those he loves a lot, so he’s always putting your safety above everything, not wanting you to suffer the same fate as his brother

•It’s the fact that you’re such a loyal, gentle and trustworthy soul that makes him practically see you as an angel and he thanks the gods everyday for letting him meet you

•Since he knows you cherish gifts from people, he makes it a must to bring you little presents or trinkets whenever he can

•I feel like he’d be more willing to give you flowers, or ribbons

•I can totally see him struggling to braid your hair, but once he’s gotten the hang of it, he’ll probably tie ribbons throughout the braid, or stick flowers into your hair

•He’s fond of watching you go about your art and he’s gasping and getting excited over every little detail

•He doesn’t really understand how you see your art as being mediocre, but he understands that sometimes people don’t come to realize their talent

•Never the mind, he knows how pretty your art is

•Constantly frets over your social anxiety

•In moments when things are not going well and he sees you shaking or hyperventilating, he’ll sidle up next to you and squeeze your hand

•He is so proud of you for doing your best to handle it, and it doesn’t matter if it’s just baby steps, it’s a process so it’ll obviously take time

•He’ll be there for you until you get better and even after that

•He likes sneaking up on you from behind and covering your eyes with his palms, but if he notices you getting jumpy he’ll stop

•His voice automatically tones down when he’s around you, and he’ll be talking to you in the gentlest tone

•You and Masachika often find yourselves comforting kids who have gotten lost or have lost their families to demons

•He likes to leave it to you, since he melts when he sees you taking care of them

•In his free time, he asks you about your culture and in exchange, he tells you of his!

•He’d love to be able to try your cuisine one day and try out your dances but there’s never any time..

•Safe to say, Sanemi’s a third wheel in this

•Has a habit of giving you headpats absentmindedly

•It’s not really something he means to do, but it’s just- ruffling your hair or petting your head helps him calm down so..

•I feel like he’d be sort of affectionate, maybe not too much, but he wouldn’t be shy of showing small signs of affection, liiiike kissing your cheeks!

[swiftiephobe]

Hello there !!!

Sorry I was gone for a couple of days, I’ve been eating leftover food and laying down and I literally had no idea what day it was until this morning when I realised I’m supposed to be working some time this week and it is tomorrow 😵‍💫 at least we’re working from home so I don’t have to wake up at 6 am !!!

Anyway, how have you been doing ?? Did you have a nice time ??? Are you permanently full until next year like I am ???

I want to tell you something interesting that I saw on TikTok. It’s supposed to bring you luck and it’s very popular in Latin America. So basically when the clock hits midnight on January 1st you need to sit down under a table and eat 12 grapes for the 12 months of the year and make a wish for each one within the first 60 seconds of the new year. I will be doing it because I really need things to liven up a little 🤪. Also if you want to travel you need to run around with an empty suitcase and if you want love you need to be wearing red underwear asdfghjll. Personally, I am very superstitious and I’m very into rituals that are believed to bring abundance and health etc. I don’t know if they work for real but at least it creates this placebo effect of being certain that your faith is sealed now that you’ve done what you need to do so you feel more confident and sure of yourself which is a plus !!!!

Do you believe is such things ? If yes, do you have some specific traditions and rituals that you guys do in Australia ?

I can’t wait to hear from you !!!

P.S. philology is similar to what you guys call an English, Italian, Spanish etc. major, I believe. If this helps you understand better what I study 😊.

Lots of love,

Secret Santa 🎅

hello!! i hope you had a lovely christmas 😄 i also had plentyyy of food, which is one of my favourite things about the holidays so i'm not complaining hehe.

that's so interesting! i'm not particularly superstitious and i can't think of any traditions like that for us in australia, but those ones you mentioned sound interesting and hey they can't hurt!! i would very much like to find love to maybe i need to go and find some red underwear ashfhsjfjsjf

and ohh i see! so it's like studying literature from your native language/country? i wish i had more of a brain for that kind of stuff, i enjoy reading/engaging with media and identifying themes and stuff like that, but i don't think i've ever been very good at that super intelligent academic level of analysis! having to study english in high school broke my soul by the end because of how frustrated i got with it haha.

[zivazivc]

Pinocchio AU

Okay people want the explanation for this comic so here it goes. It’s long and complicated and MESSED UP because of course it is, this is me. I’m going to write in points because my small tired brain can’t handle good english atm but basically to sum up the Adrien was a sentimonster theory or Pinocchio AU as I like to call it:

Young married Emilie and Gabriel can’t have kids. Gabriel reluctantly accepts this fate and even brings up adoption as a possibility once, but Emilie doesn’t want to hear any of that. She’s a bit of a Marinette in the sense that she pictures this romanticized ideal life for herself and a child—her flesh and blood—HAS to be in it.

They keep trying to get a baby while other young families Emilie knows keep growing. She feels left out and hurt and depressed, then her newlywed twin sister announces she’s expecting a baby too and something within Emilie just unhinges.

She eventually lies to some of her friends, who she was out for coffee with, that she’s pregnant too. She mostly does it just to see their reaction and feel what it would be like but it quickly spirals out of control where she just starts pretending she’s pregnant until you can’t even tell if she believes it herself.

Gabriel is confused at first because he hears the news second hand (a friend/family member congratulating him) so he’s apprehensive when he approaches his wife but she convinces him that they really are getting a baby and Gabriel is ecstatic.

It’s only later at a doctor’s check up that Gabriel learns that she indeed is not pregnant. The doctor even speaks to him alone explaining that his wife is in denial and that he should make sure she goes to see a psychiatrist, something she definitely wouldn’t do alone.

Gabriel is unsuccessful with that because he’s not entirely persistent, doesn’t want to be the guy with the crazy wife having to tell everyone she lied about being pregnant, and hopelessly believes she’ll just get over it eventually.

That is until her “pregnancy is near due”—her sister already had Félix in England a few months ago—and he stumbles on her transformed with her peacock miraculous (they already have both of them) creating a sentimonster newborn.

They have a huge fight about it but because Emilie refuses to destroy it, won’t tell Gabriel where the amok is, and Gabriel can’t just hurt the baby with his hands, Emilie just… wins. Fucked up, yeah?

Now she tried creating kids before this one, using her imagination to try and blend her and Gabriel’s looks but it just wasn’t working. So she decided to copy of photos of baby Félix because he already looked almost like a copy of his mother, and Amélie and Emilie already looked alike so it’s not so weird?—is what her mind was telling her.

She didn’t dare alter his looks but she decided to give the baby Gabriel’s eye color to include the “father” in some way. (Yes in that comic I made I gave Adrien a mix of green and gray but that was mainly to get the point across to the perceptive readers)

Now we got Adrien, a normal baby boy to the whole world except for Gabriel who’s forced into his wife’s fantasy through social expectations.

Why are we only at this point and this post is already so long AAAAAAAA!!!

Adrien physically basically grows in a way where Emilie just keeps changing his appearance to match what Félix looked like a few months prior.

Mentally he’s like a robot just taking in information without really needing to learn it. So Emilie decides when he says his first word, she decides when he learns to walk,… He knows how to walk, he just wasn’t given the command to do so yet.

But even so he does develop a personality over time, just slower, because unlike a normal child who’s always testing his boundaries, how far they’re allowed to go until they’re in real trouble, Adrien just can’t misbehave. At all.

But he does have his favorite foods and favorite toys, and jokes that make him laugh the most. The problem is just that Emilie could just decide that his favorite food is strawberries and he’d just start acting accordingly, rewiring his belief. 

He also isn’t allowed to argue or be mean to others which is why Félix thinks he’s a goody two-shoes weirdo while Chloé the brat adores him.

This behavior isn’t so hard to hide with a toddler who’s fickle but it’s harder and harder as the kid grows. Which is why the family becomes very secluded over time.

Gabriel always keeps distance with his “son”. He’s not Dad, he’s Father, he doesn’t do hugs and cuddles, he doesn’t say I love you. But Adrien knows he loves him because his mom told him so and he loves him back unconditionally because Mom said that’s what families do.

Now even though Gabriel is traumatized by this whole ordeal and knowing Adrien “isn’t real” freaks him out he does soften a bit over time. I’m going to give an awful example but like someone who hates cats softening for a cat that their partner/roommate decided to get/had from before. Continuing with this example: But still becoming appalled when the cat starts acting odd/unusually.

Okay I think you get the gist. Let’s move on…

Emilie loves her son more and more as he grows and his sentimonster behaviours start bothering her more and more too. She hates being reminded that he’s not a real boy by people mentioning he looks young for his age because Emilie forgot to make him grow for a while. She hates when he does everything like he’s told. She hates that he has no real friends because they’re afraid to expose him to the outside too much and without supervision. She hates to think about his future.

Her desire for him to be real keeps growing and is what drives her to search for a solution in the miraculous spellbook.

She cracks the script after years, when Adrien is nearly a teen, and finds a way to transfer the creators soul into a sentimonster.

It’s a long process that takes time and while she falls ill to everyone around her, Adrien becomes more real.

Gabriel starts realizing what’s happening when he notices Adrien hesitate for a second when he’s playing a video game and Gabriel wants him to do something, groan when he gets bothered watching TV, huff, complain, have slightly opposing opinions to his and Emilie’s, when he argues with his mother when she tells him she’s feeling fine; when he notices his son’s eyes are greener. Or is it all in his head?

He confronts his wife too late, when she’s extremely ill already, her normally vibrant eyes dulled match Adrien’s bluish gray, and he pieces together in his head what she’s doing.

Before Gabriel could properly think what to do to stop the love of his life from turning into a lifeless doll, in a fit of panic he tries to take her wedding band (where he knows Adrien’s amok is) to get rid of Adrien instead, but is unsuccessful in getting it off her so he snatches her peacock brooch instead (which she needs to complete the spell obvs) and breaks it. (Heyoo! broken peacock miraculous. things are coming together)

Because the spell was almost complete anyway it’s Emilie who falls unconscious. But she doesn’t disappear because she’s not a real sentimonster, she just becomes dormant like one.

This is the point in the story where Gabriel makes it seem like Emilie ran away or something like that—basically disappear. Now he’s living knowing he has an almost sentimonster wife in the basement, knowing he almost killed his son (or her), and having to care for a son that suddenly became much more alive, questioning, arguing, angry, screaming, not accepting, crying, grieving, staring at him with Emilie’s eyes.

Instead of becoming a real parent, Gabriel shuts him out.

Soon Adrien evolves desires for socializing, company, getting away from the suffocating home which eventually leads to him going to a public school.

He slowly starts to live life freely without the restrictions that were put around his thoughts.

Gabriel has an even stranger relationship with Adrien now because he still loves him in a way but also holds resentment toward him. But mostly he sees him as something valuable.

The show happens here…  And now finally we get to the comic…

Gabriel gets a hold of the ladybug and black cat miraculouses. (There’s no epic fight in his lair as you see there’s no Ladybug in the comic but that’s not really important)

What’s important is that Gabriel had deciphered the miraculous spellbook with the help of Emilie’s notes and had decided to use the unification’s “wish” power to awaken Emilie.

He’s aware he’ll need to sacrifice something for the wish to come true and he’s certain Adrien should be enough because the soul inside him is literally the one thing Emilie is missing.

✨Adrien (poor boy just lost his miraculous) is taken to Gabriel’s lair, where he finds out his father is Hawk Moth, sees his mother, learns he’s a sentimonster, and that he’s going to become a sacrifice ✨

Of course the last part is not what happens. It’s Gabriel who ends up being sacrificed.

I can’t decide if Gabriel ends up sacrificing himself because he changed his mind in the last moment while Adrien was screaming for him to stop, OR  because he didn’t love Adrien enough for him to be considered an equal exchange for his wife… O.O

But anyhow…

Emilie wakes up with Gabriel’s soul within her (hence the bluish gray eyes in the comic).

Adrien is traumatized for life.

This took me hours to write… I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to do it. I hope I didn’t forget anything and my brain made sense of it all

Well there you have it, peeps. The Pinocchio AU. It’s as messed up as my sleep schedule. Good night. 

[aruuq]

Gifts Headcanons – Genshin Impact Characters; Advent Calendar Day 16

characters: albedo, beidou, bennett, childe, diluc, fischl, gorou, hu tao, itto, kaeya, kazuha, scaramouche, thoma, venti, xiao, zhongli x gn!reader

genre & style: fluff

word count: 1.7k

notes: i’ve opened event requests. it’s a holiday + 500 followers prompts event. you can check it and request drabble/s (i highly recommend it, i’ve been gathering the prompts for over a month and been doing the whole post for a few hours only for it to flop vnsjkvnkjv). more about it here!  also, little fun fact, if i sum every part of these headcanons up, they have 7k words in total... it’s terrifying... 

warnings: not proofread, mention of food, mention of alcohol, mention of death in hu tao part but it’s because it’s hu tao yk...

event’s masterlist │ other gifts headcanons: hq ┃ jjk ┃ tkrv

❄ A bottle of the greatest dandelion wine from our favorite bard! Venti decides to give what’s the most precious to his heart for his muse. He also sings all kinds of ballads to keep you entertained, the beautiful sound of lyre setting the mood, while you share the beverage. But because it’s no one else than Venti, something about his gift seems not right. The little asshole that he is, the Archon has stolen the bottle from Diluc’s tavern, so he needs to face consequences of doing so (which probably is getting his ass whooped by mr. Ragnvindr the day after Christmas). Everything for his loved one (and for a drink or two)!

❄ Zhongli chooses as a gift something very meaningful. He’s a reasonable man, very traditional, the one who desires happiness for his loved ones. I can see him buying you a really old pair of earrings, necklace, bracelet, brooch, any piece of jewelry with gems having rich history around them. He then tells you all he knows about it, explaining why he has thought it’s the most suitable present to adorn your features.

❄ Albedo doesn’t know much about human nature, he’s still learning after all. So he searches for advice from his dearest friends, most trusted coworkers. Somehow in the way he ends with Lisa and Kaeya helping him. You end up receiving a bouquet of one hundred cecilias, a giant box of chocolates, very strong perfumes and a silver or gold brooch. Oh, and he also insists on allowing him to create a painting of you to memorialize your holidays together!

❄ I think that Diluc would close his tavern a few hours earlier and invite you over for a date he’s prepared. There’s food made by himself, his bestest of best beverage (he doesn’t like to drink but will pour himself this one symbolic glass of wine or whatever you’re drinking, and sip on it slowly for the whole evening!), and play your favorite music on a gramophone (do they even have gramophones in genshin? doesn’t matter, now they have to have them lmfao). Of course it’s only a background, the complement to the present he’s bought for you (it’s your fav jewelry).

❄ As much as I love him, I find it really hard to read his character, I’m lame af. Well, anyways, Kaeya is a sneaky lil shit, that’s for sure. He may love you, yet he still doesn’t want you to know anything more than needed about him. It’s just his way of being, nothing personal, ya know. I think if you’ve asked him more than five times why he has an eyepatch, he’s decided to make you stop making these questions by creating you your own one. Kaeya gives you it with a bouquet of roses, and tells you something like “Well, my love, people tend to give their lovers the best of clothes, that is why I’ve thought this alluring eyepatch will adorn your gorgeous face”. Ya get the vibe.

❄ He’s a dumbass, but a very loving one. For the whole year Childe has been scribbling little tiny notes in his notebook about all of the people doing anything bad towards you or the ones you have been complaining about. A few days before Christmas he goes to every little soul whose name is written in his notes, and then proceeds to threaten them that they have to give you a gift on Christmas to compensate for their sins or he’ll beat them. You end up with a long ass line on Christmas Day, waiting by your door to give you a gift, and Tartaglia just stands beside you, erasing the names carefully from the notebook. Besides that our little Ajax buys you something very expensive, just because he can, and of course he’s the one to make the Christmas dinner.

❄ Xiao doesn’t understand the whole excitement revolving around Christmas. It’s another human holiday he’s not fond of, because he simply doesn’t understand the nature of mortals. Yet, when you ask him to exchange gifts with you, he’s willing to do so. Xiao’s a bit lost when it comes to buying you a gift, so he decides to make something himself. And I can assure you, it’s something you’ll consider worth all the mora in the world since it’s made with love by the sore hands of your lover.

❄ Let’s be honest. Itto gives you a gift really similar to the one he’s given you for your birthday based on his voice lines. The prettiest, the strongest onikabuto he’s ever caught, some really rare cards, and probably sweets he’s stolen fairly won from children. But since you are not a mere friend, a mere traveler, he also gives you tons of kisses. Probably the amount of them is the same as the amount of days you two are together (yes, he’s counted it. yes, it’s taken him at least a few hours to do so).

❄ He’s the last one from all of the gifts headcanons I've written (I just realised there’s 70 characters together, dear gods) and I feel as if my creativity’s been long gone. Gorou asks Kokomi to give him a day off, or at least half of it, so he can spend it with you. He probably didn’t have time to buy you anything, so he makes you your favorite meal and then pepper you with kisses! And lemme tell you, his tail can’t stop wagging from happiness when he’s around you, so when you cuddle after eating and you keep stroking his ears, Gorou melts under your touch, and you make him all yours.

❄ Kazuha has the soul of a romantic. He writes you a meaningful poem on a pergamin, where he transforms all of his precious deep-hidden feelings into beautiful words full of amazing metaphors. He then rolls the sheet up and ties it with a red ribbon after placing a wax seal on it. Kazuha invites you to a short walk on Inazuma's beach, and makes you find the poem sealed tightly in a glass bottle.

❄ This boy’s heart is made of gold, he gives you a gift he’s made himself, so that he’s sure you only receive something with the best quality possible. Thoma plans to make you a pair of socks with a cute pattern in your favorite colors. Before he realizes, there’s also a matching gloves, scarf and a hat, so that he’s sure you’re not gonna be freezing this winter!

❄ Beidou makes sure to give everyone on board a few days off during Christmas time. Of course, most of the crew stays on the ship anyways, since they treat it as their home, everyone their family, but when Beidou really insists on taking a day off on land, they understand she just wants some time alone with you. Maybe it’s not much, just a day the two of you can spend together on the empty ship, enjoying peace of the uncrowded corridors and silence of the sea waves, but it’s surely a day you are going to remember forever, since you can see Beidou being herself, no pretending, no stress. And this fact alone warms your heart.

❄ I really want to say that you receive a coupon for a free coffin. And I will. Hu Tao gives you a coupon she’s made herself for a free coffin. You have no idea when you will use it or for whom (you silently pray in your mind that it’s not her way of telling you that one more argument and it’s gonna be yours-yours), but you are grateful??? I guess?? You chose her for a reason so I suspect a gift like this is going to be in your type too.

❄ Honestly, Bennett is so in love with you he wants to give you the whole world. He wants to give you the most expensive gifts, the most treasurable experiences, the bestest of the best, ‘cause he knows you deserve it all. But with Benny’s poor luck it’s so hard for him, impossible I may say. When he tries to buy you a pretty bracelet he’s seen you looking at a few days before, it happens that somehow has bought it five minutes before him; when he wants to cook you your favorite dish, there’s no ingredients anywhere, and when he tries to collect simple flowers for a bouquet, a boar almost runs him over… At the end, on Christmas Day, Bennett comes to you with nothing, or so he thinks. Because you already have the best gift you could’ve ever wanted, and it’s the luck of having him in your life ;))

❄ Fischl, being the person she is, is extremely stressed during the Christmas season. She wants to give you the best gift the moon and the stars have ever witnessed, but she’s also scared for her dear life she’ll disappoint you. That is why Fishl composes a set of riddles and simple games that, in fact, are just a quiz/questionnaire that’ll eventually help her to find the most suitable present for you (it’s obvious she can’t just straightforwardly ask you, duh). And even if you’ve seen through her very sneaky plan, you haven’t let her know this, ‘cause her happiness and comfort is also yours! Let her have this one…

❄ Here comes the hard one… Scaramouche is someone who doesn’t trust people easily. I would even risk it to say that he doesn’t trust anyone, himself included. He’s never known the warmth of human’s love, the happiness of somebody’s accompaniment, the feeling of wanting a person as a friend, a lover, a part of a family he’s never had. As much as I love the headcanon of this boy being the biggest tsundere on the earth, I also feel that when he finally finds someone giving what his fragile soul needs the most, giving him the act of a true, selfless love, Scara does everything to make this person happy. So yes, it was my way of saying Scaramouche gives you the best present you could’ve imagined, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[sargeant-bxrnes]

1 step forward, 3 steps back.

warnings: rafe being… rafe. drug mention & consumption, cursing, toxic relationship, sexual situations/implications, mental health issues. ANGST.

[AN: this is the first thing i’ve written, ever, so my apologies if it’s not flawless ; also, english is not my first language, that’s a warning on its own]

my requests are open btw

click for my master list

word count: 4.4K

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

“Hey,” you said in a soft tone as soon as Rafe picked up the phone, you were laying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey princess,” his tone was calm, but his voice was rough and raspy all together.

“How you doing?” you asked him, even though you’d seen him last night, up close.

“I’m doing great,” he replied in a surprisingly cheerful tone, which is weird this early in the morning. Rafe is not a morning person. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you confirmed with a sigh. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure.” he replied cockily, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear his proud smirk.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked in a casual tone, fidgeting with the edge of Rafe’s shirt, the one you wore to sleep.

“Uh, what do you mean?” he asked in a distracted tone, he sniffed subtly and coughed.

You knew what that meant, but still, you hoped it wasn’t what you deep down knew it was.

“Yeah, I mean—“ you said and made a brief pause. “Wanna go to the club? Maybe we can take a ride on the boat, you know, with food, alcohol... just us.”

“Can’t, I’m busy.” he said after a few seconds, if you didn’t know him better and his occasional mood swings, you would’ve said his tone was harsh.

"Really?" you asked in a soft tone, trying to disguise your disappointment with interest. "But I thought we were going out together today."

"Y/N, just because I'm your boyfriend it doesn't mean I have to be with you all the fucking time."

Okay, now he was definitely angry, you thought you said the right thing, but it still made him angry.

"Rafe-"

"No, Y/N. I have a life of my own, you know? Things to do besides you."

“That’s okay Rafe, I get it,” You said calmly, nodding your head softly. “Have fun today.”

Now you clearly heard the sound of him sniffing something and the sigh that left his lips after, and Barry’s voice in the background. “Don’t play the victim card on me, that’s not gonna work. I deserve to have some time off.”

“I didn’t,” you said softly. “And it’s okay baby, you’re right, you deserve to have some fun.”

“See? No need to be so fucking dramatic,” he said, his voice and words slurring. You? Dramatic? It was all him. “But don’t worry princess, I’ll drop by tonight and fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? That way I’m not just doing things with you, I’m doing you.”

And with such a vulgar comment and a harsh tone, Rafe hung up on you, leaving you completely dumbfounded and filled with incredulity.

What you did know for a fact, is that he would keep up his word. And judging by his tone of voice and how annoyed he was, you could already imagine the ache between your legs.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started hooking up with Rafe, and what you were committing to when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

You know that man carries more problems than he shows, he prefers to make himself appear as the Kook prince who lives a life of partying and money; hiding all the things that were going on in his head.

However, there were times when his attitude made you doubt yourself.

You couldn't help but think, ‘What if one day I don't manage to calm him down?’ ‘What if one day he realizes that there is someone prettier, or hotter, or wealthier out there?’

And Rafe would get angry if you doubted yourself. He would complain to you about it, saying you had no reason to be insecure about your looks; if you are absolutely gorgeous, or to feel insecure about your personality; if you were the most genuine person he'd ever met, and you could make him laugh until he forgot all his problems.

But what really made him furious was when you had doubts about the relationship itself, about whether or not he was capable of leaving you for someone else. He took those doubts personally, as if he wasn't trying hard enough to show you how much you mean to him.

When in reality; you were doubting yourself.

'Cause it's always one step forward

You were preparing dinner for you and Rafe, your family was out for the weekend, and Rafe had decided to spend it with you.

Your hair was tied up in a bun, your attire consisted of nothing but your underwear and a shirt that used to be Rafe's, but you took it so long ago that it's yours now.

Music from your shared playlist played in the background, as you danced absentmindedly with a spatula in hand, extremely calm and enjoying time with your boyfriend.

Rafe could do nothing but stare at you with admiration, you are literally the only good thing in his life; his little piece of heaven. You are everything to him.

As soon as Dark Red by Steve Lacy started playing, you let out an excited gasp. That song in particular is Rafe’s and yours, like… if you two had to choose a song to describe your relationship, it would be that one. It represented how you two did not always have good times, but your love prevailed.

Seeing you this happy, comfortable and at ease with him made Rafe's soul happy. All his life, he had done nothing else besides make people angry, disappointed, terrified. But with you, everything was different.

You were so focused on swaying your hips to the music and singing, that you didn't notice when Rafe stood up and walked over to where you were.

It wasn't until he stood behind you, chest to back and with his hands on your hips, that you realized he was closer. His head was bowed, you could feel his breathing close to your ear, so he was able to murmur in your ear the lyrics of the song:

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe,” he sang in your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he wrapped his arms around your body and started to sway with you. “Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

The gesture quickened your heart to unsuspected levels, you felt your knees weaken as you pressed closer to his body, appreciating his closeness as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“You know I love you so much, right?” he mumbled in your ear, as you closed your eyes and relished his presence.

“I love you too, baby.”  you mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest, caressing one of his arms around your waist with your fingertips, and bringing your hand to his ash blond hair, stroking it softly.

and three steps back

“Why is he mad at you, again?” Topper asked you with a raised eyebrow, after witnessing Rafe utterly avoiding even looking at you when he walked into the room and then left without a word.

“Because I told Barry to not open the door if Rafe dropped by,” You replied with a shrug, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. “And when Rafe tried to lash out on him, Barry said it all had been ‘Mrs.Country Club’s’ request.”

“And he’s mad at you because you don’t want him to get all fucked up?” Topper questioned next, trying to understand the situation. But he never knew what the fuck you two were up to.

“Yes, but it’s Rafe, are you surprised?” you said with a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” Topper admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep up with him, Y/N.”

“I ask myself that all the time…” you said with a deep sigh. “But I love him, so I guess that’s the answer.”

“And? I mean, I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ Y/N, but he’s…” Topper trailed off, apparently looking for the right word.

“I know exactly how he is, Topper, I don’t need you to remind me. I already think about that way too much.”

You and Topper had easily assumed that Rafe was no longer around, since he seemed to be making his best efforts to avoid you.

But Rafe was there, and he heard everything. He’d heard Topper giving you bad advice (or what he considered bad advice) And he heard you, having doubts about why you loved him or stood by him at all,and it made him want to lash out again.

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

[+18. Really]

“Leave me alone!” his voice boomed in the room, his brows furrowed and the veins in his neck were popping out.

“Rafe—“ you tried once again, approaching slowly in an attempt to place a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away aggressively.

“Leave-me-alone,” he said, pausing in between each word to emphasize on how much he meant it. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose had specks of white dust, his lips were dry and his voice was coarse.

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to get him to calm down. Or if there was anything at all you could do.

Normally, what upsets him the most is Ward. His own father. Rafe has spent his whole life trying to prove he's a good son, to make his father proud, and Ward never appreciates his efforts, only notices the bad, and ignores Rafe's clear calls for help, has since Rafe was 10 years old, so he certainly wasn't going to pay attention to him now that Rafe finally had a steady girlfriend, someone who had willingly decided to help.

95% of the time, you managed to talk to Rafe before he decided to resort to intoxication. Most of the time just seeing you helped him calm down, hearing your voice soothed him, and your lips, your skin, put him in a state of peace.

But the other 5% is when Rafe resorted to alcohol and, above all, drugs.

When Rafe is upset and decides to get high, he only manages to become unstable, erratic and yes, aggressive if not handled with care.

In those situations, the best thing you can do, putting yourself first, is to give him his space. Let him screw himself as much as he wants for that day, and help him deal with the consequences the next day, while you listen to him lament his attitude.

Rafe always said he would quit the vice; claiming you were all he needed to calm himself down, that you made him feel at peace. And above all, that you weren't slowly killing him; on the contrary, every minute he spent with you made him feel more alive.

However, for one reason or another, he always came back to it. Whether it was at a party, because Kelce suggested it, or, as is almost always the case, when he's upset with his father and needs quick relief.

And usually, this ‘quick relief’ ends up with Rafe fucked up, big time.

Once he was convinced that you wouldn't try to intervene again, Rafe went back to his business. He turned to the table, and since he already had the line ready, he simply leaned over and inhaled it, throwing his head back, running his hand through his hair and exhaling as he closed his eyes.

You exhaled heavily, shaking your head as you stared at your feet.  You knew he would struggle to quit, after all it is an addiction and he has to fight it, but sometimes you get the impression that Rafe doesn't want to quit, not really.

"Do you want to help me?" asked Rafe eventually, turning his head to look at you. You didn't know if it was a trick question or not, so you hesitated before answering. "Answer me."

"Yes, of course I want to, Rafe." you replied with your respective hesitations, wondering what he was up to.

"Come here then," he said, making a 'come hither’ sign with his fingers.

You took a hesitant step but stopped, your eyes narrowing as you analyzed Rafe, trying to determine his intentions.

He raised both eyebrows in your direction, in a silent question of whether or not you're going to go with him.

Eventually you walked over to where Rafe was, he smiled at you while biting his lip lightly. Without saying anything he approached you and kissed you; the drugs made his senses heighten, so the kiss was intense from the beginning.

So that's when it made sense to you what he wanted, he wanted you. Your most obvious thought is that he would use you to take out your frustration, put the drugs aside and, most likely, fuck you.

Your idea seemed to be the right one as soon as Rafe grabbed you by the waist, still with his lips on yours, left a little bite on your lip before pulling away; and without any problem, lifted you off the floor and placed you on the table.

It's something you wouldn't admit out loud,—mostly out of shame and guilt,—but this kind of sex with Rafe was the best, he's completely unrestrained, rough, full of stamina and teasing, and above all, possessive. And that, in combination with his attractiveness, always drove you crazy.

And honestly; if what he wanted was to fuck you to take out his frustration, you'd let him.

His kisses were hungry and his hands desperate, running all over your body without distinction, as if he didn't know where to start.

He parted his lips from yours, and left a kiss at the corner of them, on your jaw; and began to make a little trail of slow kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck made you bite your lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

You slid your hand under his shirt, caressing his defined abs and the sides of his body gently with the tips of your fingers, as he left little bites on your neck. Your hands slowly moved up, intending to remove his shirt, but Rafe was quicker and brought his hands to the edge of your shirt, causing you to stop your movements to raise your arms, so he could remove your shirt with ease. And so he did.

He parted his lips from your neck and stared at you, the hunger in his eyes made you feel a fire in the pit of your stomach that only he could put out.

Desperately, your lips connected again as he settled between your legs. One of his hands traveled to your neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pressing lightly to the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; though he couldn't see it.

With just enough strength, Rafe used the grip he had on your neck to push you down onto the table, so that you were lying on top of it.

As soon as he leaned over the table, you could feel his breath over abdomen, so you bit your lip in anticipation for what was to come.

He began to leave slow, wet kisses on your abdomen, making a slow trail to the edge of your shorts. Your automatic reaction was to close your eyes and put a hand in his hair, stroking it gently.

What you didn’t know is that the fact that you closed your eyes had given Rafe an opportunity he couldn't miss. Without you noticing, he slid a hand to the side of the table, where the small bag of white powder was.

To conceal his actions, he unbuttoned your shorts, and returned his lips to the beginning of your abdomen for more time.

The little bite he left to distract your attention caused a gasp to escape your lips; and that sound almost caused him to change plans completely.

He did want to fuck you, don’t get him wrong. He even had a mental debate about whether to continue what he was doing or simply sink his head between your thighs and provoke more sounds like that.

But he wanted to try something first. He had always wanted to try it, but had never asked you, because he knew that you would most likely say no.

With ease, he slid your shorts down your legs; so that they stayed at your ankles or fell to the floor; he didn't care. One of his hands slid into your underwear with ease, his fingers going straight to where he knew you needed him the most.

Trusting that you would not open your eyes, carefully, he put the white substance on your body, so delicately you didn’t notice. He began to prepare to inhale, while biting his lip in reaction to the sinful sounds that left your lips.

And obviously, without warning, Rafe inhaled a line from your thigh.

And all your sounds stopped, your eyes opened and your expression was filled with surprise, the bad kind.

You couldn't believe what Rafe had just done, you felt like an idiot for falling into the trap.

You also had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a moan in reaction to what his fingers were doing in between your legs, but your pride forbade it.

But more than anything else, you were outraged.

“Rafe, you did not just—“

“It felt nice, yeah?” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, you could feel his breath over your skin, as he left little kisses around. “After all, I did feel you clench around my fingers.”

His dirty words, hoarse voice, and close proximity to your body, not to mention his fingers deep inside you, caused you to let out a soft moan, causing Rafe to smirk in what he thought was victory.

But you wouldn't let him win this little game.

Although you really didn't want to, you grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled him away, your legs trembling slightly at the sudden lack of anything between them.

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as soon as you pushed him away from you and got off the table, lifting your shorts off the floor and putting them back on without a word.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, as you searched for  your shirt, feeling his heavy gaze on your body.

"Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

“I’m leaving you alone as you asked me to, remember?” you said in irony. “Before you sniffed a line off me after I begged you to quit that shit?”

“Oh, so now you’re playing the victim?” his voice rose. “Don't- Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have let me fuck you less than a minute ago!”

"Yes I would have let you, to distract you from that shit!" you admitted to him, failing to control your anger. "I said I wanted to help you, to distract you, to give you something different to do. Not that I'd give you another place to snort lines from!"

Rafe knew you were right, of course he did.

You had spent months after months trying to get him to quit, you had offered him countless hours of your days to give him something new to do, distractions, attention and love. And this is how he had decided to pay you back?

But Rafe was angry too, very. You had interrupted him, you were yelling at him; and you had left him so hard, that it would start to hurt unless he did something about it.

“Fine, then get the fuck out of here.” Rafe spat, his anger clearly getting the best of him.

Your eyes widened at that, you hadn't expected him to react like that.

Your best case scenario would be that your attitude would piss him off, yes, but that he would retaliate by getting you back to the table and showing you everything you were missing.

Instead, he simply took your word for it and told you to get out of the room.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

“Rafe—“

“You uh, you have three options, yeah? You let me fuck you over that table and do whatever I want, you get out of here, or I’ll get you out of here.”

The first offer was tempting, it really was, but you wouldn’t allow him to talk to you like that. Before anything, came respect and dignity, and no matter how much you wanted him to fuck you silly, you were too angry and disappointed at him to let it slip.

Blinking repeatedly to chase away the tears from your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the other end of the table, your jacket from Rafe's bed, and walked out of there without another word as you heard him calling your name.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your relationship with Rafe was unique.

Not because of the circumstances in which it was created. A one-night-stand that turned into something casual, that was formalized after a dinner.

If not for Rafe.

You loved him, no doubt about it. You would give anything to see him happy and at peace, at peace with himself and succeeding in his life.

Rafe would do anything for you, really, anything. No matter how risky, demanding or dangerous, he would do anything for you.

He would die and kill for you.

But that surely didn’t mean it was an easy relationship, hell no. In fact, the willingness both of you had to do anything for each other sometimes made things too complicated; for at times it seemed that not a single rational thought crossed your minds.

And yes, Rafe’s addiction was a big issue. Whenever he was too high, or going through withdrawals, he wasn’t the Rafe you knew or had grown to love, it was another side of him you wanted to help get rid off. And the process wasn’t easy.

While trying to get clean; there was no way to know how he’d behave. He could either get clingy and want you around at all times to calm himself down, or he’d be in a very bad mood all the time, constantly snapping at you and raising his voice.

So there were days where he’d walk you to the door of your house and leave you there with a tender kiss and a smile.

Or days when you’d get out of his truck without a word, with tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept yelling for probably the stupidest thing.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

'It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Rafe knew he wasn’t okay. After all, he had begged his father for help, begged for anything that would get those thoughts to stop, but his father hadn’t listened, had only told him to ‘man up.’

You knew he wasn’t okay. Which is why you wanted to help him, to offer the support no one else had bothered to give him before he met you.

Whether he wanted it or not, those thoughts were still there. Being with you made them easier to ignore, but it’s not like they vanished entirely. He still had some ideas that made his own skin crawl.

And sometimes, you’d say or do the wrong thing and trigger those thoughts. And things got bad again for him.

Rafe knew you wanted nothing but to help him get better and be the best version of himself, and he really wanted to give you that. To change and make an effort. Not only for himself but for you. He wanted to be a man worthy of your love.

But it was hard to be anywhere near decent when you two went out and a guy stared at you for longer than Rafe’s limits allowed, or when guys tried to hit on you, when his friends got a little bit too close for his comfort.

Whenever he got jealous, he turned into a walking, talking ticking bomb. Anything could, and would set him off.

It wasn’t your fault, not really, but most of the time you felt it was. You knew Rafe dealt with a lot of insecurities already, of not being a nice person, not being good enough and so many other things. And you hated being one of the factors that caused his insecurities to arise.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

It was a complicated relationship, and it would probably never stop being complicated because both of you are complex people, plus there are other factors that affect the relationship.

But that didn't mean either of you would stop fighting to keep it alive. Neither would let the other go.

Rafe utterly refused to ever let you go. He loved you as he had never loved anyone, as he never thought himself capable of loving with that twisted heart of his.

You are, without exception, the best thing in his life, the best thing that ever happened to him. And you being in his heart was slowly turning him into who he had wanted to be during all those years of loneliness.

And you would never let him go, because you loved him with all your heart, soul and nerve of your body. And because you know that no one will ever love you like him. With so much passion, intensity, honesty and purity.

Because every feeling Rafe expressed with you was true; he was himself with you. And you didn't want to let him go.

Even if the two of you went one step forward, and three steps back, that single step would be longer than any step life makes you take backwards.

[shokobuns]

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.  

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.  

Oops.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work on other platforms.

[songmingisthighs]

[11.21] dad!jongho × reader

⇀ he said it's just his overall charm as a dad. but you blamed your daughter glueing herself to him on his overall teddy bear-like aura. but really, how could you blame her for loving her dad so much?

⇁ I'm fucking blaming @paralumanniluna for feeding this scenario in my head

The morning was never rowdy in your house. Your husband, bless his soul and genes, would more often than not wake up before you. He would usually go for a quick run just to make sure he's always moving and not stuck in the studio or his home office. His idol life demanded him to be an early riser and it stuck to him.

Which is actually a good thing. Most of your friends complained how their husbands or boyfriends rarely help with their children when they woke up at ungodly hours. But not Jongho. You're 76% sure that most of the time he went out to calm his crying daughter, he was in his sleepwalking state. Though you really couldn't care less when every time he went out to calm the baby, she'd quiet down within seconds. Which was why you never ferberized her. Or more like you couldn't since Jongho's body's on autopilot when he hears his daughter cry.

They created a very deep bond which was quite surprising as most people thought that Jongho would've been awkward with kids.

It wasn't even surprising when you walked out of your shared room to see Gaho watching tv as she sat on his dad's back while he's doing push-ups.

You walked over to them and scooped Gaho into your arms, making her squeal and giggle loudly at the surprise, "Good morning, my little princess," you greeted her whilst peppering her tiny face with kisses.

"Good morning, too, mama!" she greeted back, squishing your cheeks in her hands as she peppered kisses on your face, reciprocating your action.

Jongho stood up from his previous workout stance to peck your lips, "Morning, love. Slept well?" he asked. You hummed, smiling at his kiss and nodded, "Best sleep yet," you answered.

Gaho spoke up, cutting your conversation with Jongho, "Mommy, I want pancakes," she pouted. Her lips jutted out much like her father's and it made you squeal at just how adorable she was.

"You want pancakes, honey?" you walked to the kitchen with her in your arms, "what do you want on your pancakes?" you asked her. The little girl pursed her lips, thinking hard. That was until she turned around to look at Jongho who was trailing behind the two of you, "What do daddy want?" she asked him instead.

Jongho chuckled and reached to pat her head, "Daddy wants whatever princess wants, so what does daddy's little princess want?" he asked her back. She jutted her bottom lip out because her question was left unanswered, "I dunno'," she muttered, burying her tiny face on your shoulder, making you chuckle.

"How 'bout we do the usual berries and whipped cream? Sounds good?" you asked her. At the mention of fruit, her eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly, "I help!" she exclaimed, wiggling her body so you'd let her back on the ground.

You began taking the ingredients out, Gaho helping you as soon as her daddy finished tying up her long hair into a ponytail. Your heart swelled as you watched her ponytail bouncing as she walked. Even as a little girl, she was adamant about helping around.

Work delegated, each of you began preparing breakfast. Since your husband couldn't really be trusted with cooking, you made him prepare the pancake batter. Gaho was sat on the kitchen stool, picking out the fruits that she wants on the pancakes and making sure each plate has the exact same amount. You, on the other hand, was the one in charge of cooking the pancake.

"Daddy," Gaho called to Jongho, pulling at his shirt sleeve, "wash," she instructed, pointing at the fruit that she had so neatly put in a bowl.

Jongho grinned down at her, patting her head, "Good job, baby," he praised the little girl.

He was about to walk away to the sink with the bowl of fruit in hand when Gaho suddenly whined out loudly, sounding as if she was on the verge of tears, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" she called out, catching Jongho's attention immediately. When Jongho turned to her, she saw that she had a deep frown on her face, arms were raised up towards her daddy, and hands making little grabby gestures.

Seeing this, Jongho put the bowl in the sink and reached over to pick up his little princess, moving her to the counter next to the sink. "Stay still, okay?" he smiled at her. The girl's frown was replaced by a wide, toothy grin, much similar to her father's.

You scoffed next to Jongho, catching his attention as he washed the fruit. "She's a total daddy's girl," you muttered under your breath as you peered over at Gaho. Jongho smirked in amusement, "Is that jealousy, I hear?" to which you rolled your eyes, "Well, duh. I grew her in my stomach for nine months, I breastfed her until she was 2, and even so, she still preferred you?" You whined, slapping a perfectly cooked pancake on the plate.

Jongho cooed at you, moving to wrap his arms around your waist, "Then, should we create another one that would prefer you compared to me?" he whispered to your ear directly, making you blush hard.

But before you could answer him, Gaho had once again cried out for her daddy. You playfully glared at her, pushing Jongho off of you, "Go tend to your daughter," you grumbled out.

Jongho could only chuckle at your response, pecking your cheek before moving to his awaiting daughter who was making grabby arms to Jongho.

Soon enough you all were seated on the dining table, Jongho at the head of the table with Gaho on his right and you on Gaho's other side. She looked extremely satisfied on her high chair, being doted on by her mom and dad, absolutely gleaming.

"Baby, you gotta chew properly," Jongho cringed as Gaho giggled, letting out small bits of barely chewed pancake and fruit drenched in maple syrup out of her mouth. "You're a messy baby, aren't you?" you chuckled as you reached forward to clean the bits and pieces of food from her mouth.

"Mommy! Kisses!" she puckered out her lips and before you could realize it, she had pressed a sticky kiss onto your cheek, making you yelp in surprise. Jongho snickered at you as you tried to wipe the syrup off of your skin. You glared at him, "What are you snickering about? You're next," you smirked as you turn to Gaho, "Sweetie, don't you think daddy deserve kisses too?"

At that, Jongho's eyes widened.

Thankfully, before Gaho could smack her lips onto Jongho's cheek, the bell rang.

Jongho immediately jumped up, "Oh, look! Someone at the door!" He exclaimed.

Seeing her dad fleeing, Gaho squealed loudly. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips immediately pulled into a frown.

Not wanting her to cry, you immediately took her off her high chair and she immediately sprinted (or at least attempted to with her waddle) to Jongho and latched onto his leg. Of course, being the strong person he is, Jongho wasn't affected. He casually walked to the front door with Gaho attached to his leg.

You couldn't do much but watch as the two of them disappeared into the hall towards the front door.

While you're jealous of their relationship, you couldn't help but be very understanding as to why Gaho is so attached to Jongho. It warmed your heart seeing them.

Maybe to aid your slight jealousy, you need to take into account Jongho's words. Maybe you need another child that would latch onto you like how Gaho latched onto Jongho.

[lollytea]

There’s Sunshine in Your Smile: Chapter 4

[READ ON AO3]

Hunter had stabbed himself in the foot.

(Not literally, of course, though that would certainly have shown Willow that his vigilance over potential stabbings in her garden was not irrational. However, she probably would have argued that self-infliction was both a petty and nonsensical way to prove a point. Hunter was forced to concede that she was correct in this imaginary debate they were having in his head.)

He hadn’t realized he was hungry until he had scarfed down the last of his food, which was small enough that it wouldn’t have taken long in normal circumstances, unless he wanted to make it blatantly obvious that he was stalling. But Hunter had cut his already brief time in half because he was so thoroughly enticed by a juice box and an abomination goo sandwich.

(“You need to stop calling it that.” Willow complained with a sniff of disgust. This was a side of her that Hunter was beginning to take impish joy in igniting. “I’ll never be able to stomach jelly again if you get that imagery stuck in my head.”)

He took his time with the goreberries and even Flapjack had caught the hint to pace himself. His bird had left the remaining fruit for Hunter and was currently racing Clover over the heads of Willow’s trees. The two palismen had clicked together like magic.

And then, only a single berry remained, its existence a palpable reminder that once it was gone, Hunter had to be gone.

But he couldn’t just leave it there. Now its lone inhabitation on the plate was drawing attention to itself. He had even caught Willow glance down at it.

She knew.

They both knew.

The anticipation was outright crackling from the damn thing and when Hunter finally couldn’t take it anymore, he popped it in his mouth and sealed his fate.

And then, there were no more excuses. No more obligations to tether him here. He had to leave.

The claw of guilt was already digging in deeper, though he knew it wasn’t entirely about the job itself. Afternoon patrol was minimal work at best and totally tedious at worst.

For Hunter, the appeal was the authority it represented, the Golden Guard in all his eminence. And during weeks when assigned missions were scarce, it was his only opportunity to get out of the castle, so it was something he looked forward to.

And now here was this girl and this garden of hers, smiling and shining and melting away all of his devotion to the task at hand. He didn’t care about the gold mask right now. He wanted to stay here, and that was the true source of his guilt.

The title of Golden Guard had been a gift from his uncle, an honour to receive, and something he had promised on his own soul to uphold.

And what was he doing right now? Fighting with himself not to blow it off for the sake of…

Of…

Of something completely insignificant to his life’s one and only purpose.

“Hunter?”

Willow was watching him intently, apprehension straining her features. He had been silent for a moment too long, and she seemed to know what came next.

But that didn’t stop her from shooting to her feet alongside him as he abruptly stood up.

Hunter had put his metaphorical foot down. Which hurt a little, as it had already been metaphorically stabbed.

“I have to leave.” He announced, a clipped tightness to his voice.

“But you just got here,”

“Yeah. And now I’m just leaving.”

“But--”

“No buts. I did something for you, you did something in return. That’s where it ends.”

Hunter paused in his dutiful march out of the backyard to look over his shoulder at Willow. He nodded purposefully, with an expression he hoped read as sincere as he felt. “Thanks, by the way. To you and your Dad.”

She did not smile at this. Her frown only deepened.

“You can’t just--”

“Captain, I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but I’m not the kind of witch who wastes time. I’m not gonna linger around for no reason.”

“What if there was a reason?”

“That being?”

“Um…”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Hunter would not let himself entertain the notion for very long, as it would surely weaken his resolve (and burn his traitorous ears) but…

She really wanted him to stay.

“Hunter, just…just wait a second.”

He was caught by the wrist.

In that miniscule beat of total silence, Hunter strategized on how to logically approach his next move. He considered how she might ensnare him once again, and how to avoid falling into the trap.

Let’s see, the first time, when she convinced him to follow her home, it had revolved around the Lump of Hell and Pain. But what had been the turning point where he completely folded?

He remembered how she had looked at him.

And then the second time, when she had insisted he stay for a snack, even when he had pushed against her efforts?

Once again, she had looked at him.

So, when Willow gave a tentative tug and he reluctantly turned around, he refused so much as a glance at her face. He kept his eyes resolutely locked on the spot where she was gripping him, her fingers bunching around the cuff of his glove.

“I was thinking… maybe you could help me with my garden?”

“That’s not a dire reason for me to stick around and you know it.”

“Well…” Her fingers loosened, as she fumbled for excuses. They absentmindedly spidered up his arm. “It’s a scorcher today so it’s really important that all my friends are watered properly…”

Still not dire enough.

“But there’s all this garden and only one me so…”

Her voice faltered, clearly realizing that this simply wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t plead her flimsy case in a way that sounded urgent, and even if she could, Hunter was done playing along with her games today. It was immature anyway.

Willow’s hold came almost completely undone, save for the fingertips that still hesitated to let go and, on the verge of defeat, she sadly drew her hand away. As she did so, her thumb slid a line down his inner forearm, the gentlest brush, a tickle against his skin.

His knees liquidized so fast, Hunter nearly collapsed on the spot. His legs buckled, subtle enough that Willow didn’t notice but mentally captivating enough that he felt a flash of worry for his health.  

Then came her last effort, not even remotely confident in her odds, as she said in the softest voice that ever fell off her lips “Please…”

The sensation in the back of his mind scuttled down his neck, leaving a prickle of goosebumps in its wake.

His answer was instantaneous.

“Okay…”

Well. Damn.

“Okay?” Willow blurted. She had been so certain that this wasn’t going her way, that she didn’t even sound convinced.

She didn’t believe him. He still had a chance to back out. He could leave.

But then, but then, Titan help him, this hopeless excuse for a Coven official….

But then Hunter did such a frantic inventory of Willow’s garden that his brain threatened to overheat from the rapid-fire calculations. He managed to rack up a conclusion regardless.

“It looks like--” He cleared his throat, annoyed with how feeble his voice came out. He shook out the arm where Willow’s touch still tingled, in a gesture that probably looked pointless and ridiculous to the girl in front of him.

But once it no longer felt boneless, he was confident to proceed.

When he spoke again, it was detached and succinct. The Golden Guard. “It looks like you have the ingredients here for a whole plethora of essential goods.”  

With his regained composure, he was capable of finally looking at her.

She was staring at him strangely, somewhere between confusion and suspicion.

Hunter swept a hand across the garden, gesturing from one plant to the next.

“Sleeping droughts, energy supplements, key components for important potions and elixirs, etcetera, etcetera…” He rattled off.

“A lot of your harvest is edible too, thus would be necessary ration in case of emergency. And that’s not even touching on all the rare specimen you have here, the properties of which I’m not familiar with, but would be foolish to disregard.”

Willow’s arms had crossed, her weight shifted to one hip. With one eyebrow raised, he couldn’t recall her ever giving him a more unimpressed look. And he had locked this girl in a cell.

She did not seem to like the Golden Guard very much.

“What are you even saying, Hunter?”

“I’m saying that it’s irresponsible that you haven’t yet registered this garden for official Coven protection.”

Her eyes flared.

“You’re not seriously calling me irresponsible for--”

“But considering its value, it must be sufficiently maintained. And the current heat is concerning.” He shrugged one shoulder, eyes betraying him by glancing askance. “And as you’ve informed me that it’s too difficult a task to handle alone…”

The anger left Willow like a snuffed out green fire.

In a matter of two days, Hunter had successfully become the stupidest witch in the Emperor’s Coven.

And there were a lot of stupid witches in the Emperor’s Coven.

He could not begin to describe the full extent of Willow’s delight, as his brain was already in complete tatters. But all the semblance of competence he possessed was used to register that giddy grin, those crinkled eyes and her unforgettable dimples as she shoved a watering can into his hands and put him to work.

Hunter should be outright furious at himself right about now. But after a moment of staring at the pale green object, painted with flowers, his facial muscles decided that he desperately wanted to smile. And though it twisted reluctantly on his mouth, smile he did.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Willow was chattering away about her limits, (Yeah. Apparently the terrifying force of nature known as Willow Park had limits.) namely that she was incapable of conjuring a spell to water all her plants at once.

She demonstrated with a spin of her finger. A puny spell circle poured a gush of water over a singular shrub.

“Sometimes I wish Luz hadn’t told me so much about her world.” She lamented with a sigh. “I mean, I don’t really. But I also do. Sorry, you probably don’t know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

He wasn’t lying. Hunter had become quite familiar with his emotions torn in opposite directions. (Case in point: Literally everything that had led him to the point of ditching patrol and watering some girl’s flowers.)

“I’m always thinking about that world, how easy it must be to keep a garden healthy.” Willow’s head tipped back to the sky. And then Hunter was reminded that not only did she belong in the garden, she belonged in the air.

She peered at him over her shoulder, one of her pigtails spilling down her back. “Did you know rain doesn’t boil in the Human Realm?”

“I’ve heard.” Was all Hunter said, careful not to splash too much or too little water over the plants he was tending to.

Willow’s eyes slid shut, as the sun bathed her face. “I hope I can see it one day.”

They worked in parallel, Willow seamlessly intertwining her body through the bushes and blooms, (He wasn’t certain how much sentience they had, but they seemed to clear paths for her.) and Hunter methodically stepping from one plant to the next. Start. Stop. Water. Start. Stop. Water.

Every so often, he would steal glances at Willow out of the corner of his eye. He learned that not only did she talk to her plants, but she had a specific routine with every sprout in the garden.

To some she whispered, to others she announced with a royal air and a dramatic flourish, some liked corny jokes, some liked to be fawned over and some liked an affectionate stroke around the petals.

Now, as far as Hunter was aware, plants did not possess personalities. But then again, he would not be surprised if Willow had somehow tapped into some kind of nature mental link, similar to that of a witch and their palisman.

He was pretty sure Terra could do….something like that. He was never explained the specifics, as Terra liked nothing more than to pretend Hunter didn’t exist.

He probably wouldn’t have bought the notion that a fourteen year old girl would have a budding ability akin to a Coven Head. But underestimating Willow’s capabilities with the words ‘fourteen year old girl’ could be a dangerous mindset and Hunter wasn’t dumb enough for that.

Or maybe…

This was also a possibility…

Maybe Willow couldn’t actually telepathically communicate with her garden and she was just odd.

With this perspective in mind, Hunter listened to her babble away to the friends she had grown herself, bright and bubbly. Without making the conscious decision to do so, he wound up watching her.

She flittered around a scalectrica bloom, making a huge fuss over the intensity of its fire stained petals, fluffing them up as though it were a hairdo. The voice she was doing was so foreign from her own soft lilt and so goofy sounding that it may have been solely for her own entertainment.

At this very moment, was Willow demonstrating herself as an extraordinarily powerful witch…or was she just being a kid?

He kinda liked the latter. It was…it was weirdly…

Immature.

No. No, that wasn’t the word for it. Hunter recoiled a little at the use of the word he frequently used to criticize himself in order to describe Willow. It was something else entirely.

(He knew the word. But it would be far too troublesome to let himself think it.)

He didn’t realize he was smiling so wide until his cheeks ached. And though he tried to subdue it, he could still feel it linger on his face as he averted his attention to a cluster of moonflowers.

The sprinkle of his watering can reminded him of rain.

Rain.

Though he had remained tight lipped on the subject from earlier, the concept had been plucking at him.

Belos said the Day of Unity would bring upon an era of pure Utopia. And Hunter truly believed him, and so he knew in his bones that if this supposed era was as wondrous as his uncle had described, then surely, Willow Park would get to see the rain.

He hoped she got to see the rain.

Hunter would like to see it too.

Maybe, though probably not, but maybe, maybe when she saw it, Hunter would be standing beside her.

Though probably not.

He imagined a Utopia would need its Golden Guard, not a dumb boy possessed with childish curiosity. Exploring the new world with Willow likely wouldn’t be an option for him.

And that was a good thing. It had to be a good thing.

Just as he was edging dangerously close to considering how he felt about this whole situation, Hunter stubbed his toe. It hurt a billion times worse than the metaphorical stabbing.

He broke out into a loud string of curses, alerting Willow, who had been in the middle of asking a gallberry bush about the hot gossip between the nearby bloodwheat and fire hedge.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk like that in front of my Dads.” She warned. “Are you okay?”

“No. What even is this and what’s it doing here?” He hissed through clenched teeth, gesturing wildly at the large, battered cauldron that Willow had turned into a makeshift flowerpot. It was overflowing with a crowd of magnificent dragon lilies.

“That’s my leftover cauldron from when I was in the abomination track.”

Hunter’s shock was so pronounced that he entirely blanked on his throbbing toe.

“You were in the abomination track?”  

Willow’s brow furrowed at that, and in a stark contrast to her precocious nature, jutted her lip out in a pout. “You don’t have to sound that surprised.”

“Captain, you eat, sleep and breathe plants. The only way I can picture you raising abomination is if you build them out of bushes or whatever,”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Willow’s lip tweaked. There was a perilous glint in her eye as she shuffled into Hunter’s space and whispered “Wanna hear something cool?”

And.

So.

This was around the point in the afternoon where Hunter gave up.

He let it go. Dropped it. Just completely and utterly abandoned any intention of carrying out the rest of his patrol shift. Nah, nope, nuh uh, it was simply not happening today.

The ever-present guilt, the anxiety, the duty, it all flew to the far corners of his mind, shoved away before it all burst out of him at a later date, (And by the Titan, it certainly would.) because for the time being, something far more powerful had seized control of him.

Willow had opened her mouth and spoke of wild magic.

Hunter often left his window open ajar on hot nights, which had once led to one particular moth fluttering in, bewitched by the heady glow of his wall torch. Predictably, the stupid creature had caught itself on fire.

Hunter had been thirteen at the time. Sure, he had some sympathy for the thing but his first reaction was an eye roll. Surely there was at least an ounce of instinct hardwired into that microscopic insect brain that told it not to get too close to something that radiated burning heat.

Well, as Hunter grew older, he learned that every living creature had its flame. And at this stage in his life, he could admit (to himself anyway.) that wild magic might be his.

(Something he was not willing to admit just yet was that there might also be a second flame, one still early in the developmental stage.)

So. Yeah. Vindication for the moth. Sorry, moth.

“Okay, okay!” Hunter hovered excitedly around Willow as she multitasked between tending to her plants and laying out the basics of a hypothesis.

Flapjack had arrived from above, sensing Hunter’s shot of adrenaline and was now flapping and twittering between him and Willow, basking in the flying sparks of the Unknown(!)

“So, what you’re saying is that they would be able to function entirely independent from the witch who conjured them? So, they wouldn’t require their creator’s magic source at all to survive?”

Willow shook her head, not as jittery as Hunter but clearly enthusiastic. She was grinning ear-to-ear. At some point, she had magnetized so close to him that he could smell the floral scent off her, which was either perfume or a side effect of being a plant witch.

“They would need a daily intake of water but if the transfusion worked and the shrub inside them took root, a plant based abomination should be able to keep itself functional through photosynthesis!”

“That’s the sun, right?”

“Yep!”

“A solar powered abomination? And it grows berries? Ha!” Running his fingers through his hair, Hunter couldn’t help the wired laugh that split out of him. His mind was reeling. “That’s so fascinating! Has anyone ever attempted it bef--”

He stopped short. No, of course they hadn’t. It was illegal.

And for good reason too. It was highly unlikely that sort of experimentation would be successful. It was danger waiting to happen.

Willow had taken notice of his sudden silence. “Everything okay?”

“We….really shouldn’t get too carried away talking about this.” Hunter muttered firmly. It was a reminder to himself, an indisputable truth that Belos had seared into every facet of his mind through an intricate braid of episodes, blood, nightmares and the drip drip drip of that deathly sludge.

“Messing around with this stuff could get someone hurt.”

But when he got all tangled up in his studies of the forbidden, he allowed the reality of it all to slip his mind.

Sometimes it was too overwhelming to unpack just how selfish he was to forget.

Willow was silent for a long moment, He wondered if she was gearing up to argue about this, or perhaps his abrupt rejection of her innocent theory had upset her.

They shouldn’t have talked about this in the first place, and now he had to deal with the fallout of ruining a conversation in which he was actually comfortable.

He didn’t even want to stop talking about it.

Finally, Willow shrugged.

“It guess it can be. Any kind of magic can hurt.” Her tone was nonchalant, conversational.

“But not in the way wild magic can.”

“Well, I’m not really a wild witch. I mostly stick to plant spells,” She placed one hand on her hip as the other dramatically tossed back her hair. Her demeanour was a faux air of chilliness that was so strange on her, that it was funny. “But when I had you in those vines earlier, I could have crushed you like a goreberry.”

Hunter smirked, loosely folding his arms. He subconsciously mirrored her posture, arrow straight and challenging. “You’re way too nice for that.”

“Maybe so.” Willow agreed, that hilariously stoic look on her face. “But if I had made that threat, your first thought probably wouldn’t be how grateful you were that I was using by-the-book magic to kill you. It’d be ‘oh no. Death.’”

Something about her monotonous delivery made Hunter crack up, though he was extremely conscious to the giggles slipping out being a stupid noise, and he made an effort to stifle it with his backhand.

But then his amusement cracked the walnut that was Willow and she burst out laughing too. And of course, once it spread, it became difficult to stop.

“I would not have said ‘Oh no. Death.’”

Flapjack agreed with a cheep, landing atop Hunter’s head.

“Sorry I got it wrong.” Willow cocked her head playfully. “You’re just such an enigma.”

“That,” Hunter pitched a pointer finger, the pad he raised just an inch from Willow’s nose. Her lashes fluttered, eyes crossed. (Something squeezed at Hunter’s heart.) “Is very true.”

Her eyes lifted to rest on Hunter, smile glowing.

That look caught him off guard, brazen and undone. His finger faltered.

A moment earlier he would have second guessed himself, unsure of what to make of it, unsure if he had said the right thing.

Being seen as odd to other people had never bothered him before, it went in tandem with being annoying and he was well accustomed to that. Being liked hadn’t been Hunter’s concern for quite a long time.

But then he met some kids who called him a friend and it was like a door blown off its hinges, a door he hadn’t even known was closed, let alone locked. It had felt like such a delicate thing, having friends, like one fumble could shatter it all.  

But Earlier and Now were two entirely separate realms.

He wanted to say this was surprisingly easy, being here with Willow, but that wasn’t the right word for it. His breath still hitched, he would still open his mouth with only a sputter instead of a sentence, but it was alright. Willow botched her words sometimes too.

And that was okay.

It was more like breathing or falling asleep or the language of quiet whistling that he shared with Flapjack alone in his room.

Natural. That was the word.

This friendship felt natural.

“Do you want to help me sow seeds?” Willow had asked once they finished watering.

How the Hell do you sew seeds?

“I don’t know much about the whole gardening thing,” shrugged Hunter, scratching his cheek. His thoughts snagged on his disastrous attempts to stitch the Golden Guard sigil into his cloak, before Darius had intervened. “Also I’m….not great with a needle and thread so,”

Her giggle was tiny, barely even there, and Hunter wondered how she managed to laugh at him so frequently yet never made him feel like he was being ridiculed.

“I promise it’s easy.” There was something so simplistic and innocent about the way Willow made promises. Hunter had a difficult time doubting her. Which was strange, as it defied everything he knew about promises as complex, sacrificial things. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

She showed him.

He had found that he quite liked it when she showed him things, even if the Lump of Hell and Pain was involved.

Willow prattled on about the shrubs they would be planting as she spread out a layer of fresh fertilizer. When Hunter shifted to assist her, she drummed two fingers against his wrist.

“Before you do anything, you should lose the gloves,” She suggested.

Hunter’s dumbstruck look made her backtrack.

“I just don’t want you to get them dirty. But if you don’t want to--”

“It’s fine. I’ll take them off.” Said Hunter, far more snappish than intended.

It wasn’t that he had any big grand reservations about the thought of flaunting his bare hands, it was just….it was just weird. Most of the time, he didn’t like looking at them. But he figured it would be even weirder to make a big thing of it.

He pinched the fabric from his fingertips and slowly pulled off his gloves, one after the other.

One wrist was disguised by a branded sigil, though the other spotlit trails of dark protruding veins. He had pale narrow palms that splotched red in odd places, knobbly knuckles that bulged against his long fingers and chipped uneven nails. Lining the edges were faded scars and remnants of blisters.

Naked hands, riddled with faults. Not so different from the rest of him, really.

Hunter’s lip tightened with distaste. They were perfectly standard pair of hands but he would never stop viewing them as sorta pathetic looking.

When Hunter was little, long before he had developed caution as second nature, he had been a recklessly curious thing, who tended to paw at everything he didn’t understand.

He hadn’t understood anything.

This led to a smattering of nicks, bites and burns documented over the years in the glove buried canvas of his skin.

He liked to detach himself from these hands. These scarred, curious hands that had once been small and stupid.

When Hunter lifted his head, Willow snapped hers in the opposite direction, the colour in her cheeks like a dusting of pink pollen, as she plunged her hands into the soil.

Willow’s hands were nothing like Hunter’s. They were small, most of their size in the wide, cushioned palms. Her fingers were short, blunt and practical, with dirt already digging under her neatly clipped nails.

Three cinnamon coloured freckles were splayed across the side of her wrist and Hunter mused, for longer than he should, that if you connected those dots with your fingertip, you could draw a little triangle.

The skin of her hands was drier than the cloudlike softness of her face, and depending on how she fluttered them, he caught one or two peeks of her cracked calluses.

If his bare hand were to touch hers it would be a lot rougher than he originally thought.

Not that he had given it much thought, of course.

By the time Willow’s took note of his staring, Hunter had already cut his gaze away to rake his fingers through the fertilizer. He didn’t know what he was doing just yet but he could certainly make it look like he did.

Willow walked him through the process of planting seeds and yes, her first promise to Hunter had not been broken. It was easy. Ridiculously easy.

This aspect of gardening was swift and relaxing and Hunter didn’t even mind the texture of soil as much as he thought he would. It was soft and crumbly in his hands.

“You know, I always figured plant witches just sprung stuff out of the ground,” Hunter remarked, tracing a useless circle where he had just planted a seed.

“So, Most Powerful Witch in Her Track. What’s the deal with you down on your knees, digging in the dirt?”

Willow wiped back her sweaty forehead and turned a broad grin on him. The only way she could possibly look more in her element was if her ears begun sprouting leaves. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. With a perspective like that, you’d never make it in my track.”

That wasn’t the only reason.

“Enlighten me.”

She hummed thoughtfully, readjusting herself into a more comfortable sitting position.

“This garden was my passion long before my powers developed,” Her gaze pooled with pride as she skimmed across her worlds upon worlds of thriving life. A slight breeze rustled the trees.

“So when I finally started to grow into myself, I had an immediate connection to plant magic. Nobody knew plants like me, nobody loved plants like me and the plants could sense it.”

“But you have magic now. So why do you still have to--?”

“I don’t have to.” She deadpanned, as though it were obvious. “But it’s always nice to put in the extra effort for what you love. I still love plants and they love me. Plus a more hands-on approach enhances our connection,”

Her dimples popped with a smile. “And that in turn enhances my magic! Cool, huh?”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh…Huh. Weird.”

“Weird?”

“Well, it’s just…this is the human way, right? It’s just weird to think there’d actually be value in that.”

“A lot of witches think like that.” Willow said with an exasperated shake of her head. “Which is why nobody believes me when I tell them this is how I got so good.”

“Hey, it’s less competition.” Hunter shrugged.

“I don’t care about that, Hunter.”

“That’s fine. I’ll care about it for you.” He did a sarcastic little spin of his finger. “Less competition. Woo.”

Willow smirked, a teasing glitter in her eye. “Okay, that’s settled. You shan’t tell a soul about the secret of my power, are we clear?”

Hunter set a hand to his heart. “Shan’t tell a—smmph!”

“Ssssshhh” Willow had smushed the pad of her filthy finger against his lips. “I am a soul and you were about to blab.”

“Captain!” Hunter protested. “Stop, that’s gross, it’s—Ugh!”

His face scrunched up in disgust. “Dirt in my mouth, dirt in my mouth, blech, uck,” He frantically spat into the ground as Willow cackled at him.

And when Hunter laughed in response, it was a low warning.

He pounced on her and she shrieked, attempting to bat him away with her flailing hands but Hunter refused to relent until he had successfully gotten her back. Once his thumb had managed to leave a smudge across her cheek, he was satisfied.  

But Willow just could not let him have his win and things escalated. It was all a bit of a blur, actually. Around five minutes of rolling in the dirt later, both Willow and Hunter were caked in the stuff and their faces were stretched into lunatic grins.

Willow had announced that there was no clear winner, only for Hunter to say that while he respected her opinion, she was wrong and it was him.

She responded by flicking another spot of soil at him.

By the time Hunter’s giddy buzz died away and he began to worry that returning to the castle like this would draw attention, Willow had already spelled the two of them clean.

He then proceeded to dirty his cheek two minutes later and all she could do was throw her hands up and sigh.  

The time spun by and the only determination of the passing hours was the gradual droop of the sun. Hunter had decided that once streaks of pink painted the sky, that was his sign that he must leave.  

They continued to chat as they worked, topic fluid as it had been during their morning message thread.

Willow had asked about Hunter’s favourite book at some point and wound up receiving a barrage of information about Ruler’s Reach. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was just asking for a basic synopsis before he had reached the gore dripping contents of chapter 46 in in his page-by-page recount.

He stopped abruptly, figuring that being a fanboy was not the image he wanted to represent, and asked her favourite book in return.

Willow had obliged, eyes alight and happily explained that while she wasn’t a huge reader like Luz or Amity, she had this one beloved novella that had been tucked away under her pillow for years and years and she still wasn’t sick of it, pouring over the memorized words when she had trouble falling asleep.

“It’s not in great condition though. It’s sort of falling apart,” She added with a sheepish smile.

Hunter liked that idea. Willow owning a book with a damaged spine and frayed corners and pages well worn by time.

Just like Hunter.

Maybe, on occasion, they had read during the same hours, vastly different stories for vastly different individuals, and yet everlastingly connected by the same night, the hang of the same moon.

It was a totally dumb and insignificant notion, but Hunter pocketed it in his heart to think about the next late night in that deathly silent castle, as he turned a tattered page and felt the icy bite of being entirely alone.

Willow told him a story pillared on themes of politics, life, and the relationship between witches and nature. It focused on a warrior queen who grew a new kingdom from a forest beneath the sea, only to realize forty years later that she had destroyed the already existing ecosystem that had been there before, and her efforts to undo her hubris.

There were battles peppered here and there, but it lacked the raw emphasis on violence that Hunter’s book had revolved around, which he considered detrimental to his overall review.

He didn’t really get the appeal but Willow certainly did, and he liked to listen to her recite the quotes like poetry, they sounded prettier when she said them then they probably looked written down, her voice imbued with some kind of magnitude that one could only understand if they poured over the pages like she did.

She seemed to care more for the beauty of flowery prose and symbolism than the gaping plot holes. Which Hunter also didn’t get, but she loved it in such a way that he hoped she never stopped loving it.

“Would you, as a plant witch, have a favourite plant, or are you, like, obligated not to?” Hunter asked, once they had pattered around the subject of Willow’s track.

At this point in the afternoon, they had phased out of garden work without noticing. Hunter was now lazing by the goreberry bush, having invented a game of tossing a berry high into the air and Flapjack would swoop in and attempt to snatch it in his beak

He was successful nine times out of ten, though Hunter and Willow still cheered and clapped every time, hyping the little bird into a frenzy.

“Huh.” Said Willow, like Hunter had asked something profound.

“What?”

“I don’t think, for as long as I’ve been alive, that I’ve ever thought about a favourite plant.”

“So, I’m about to witness a milestone.” Hunter said dryly. He quirked a smile. “Cool.”

Willow tutted, winding her arms around her tucked up legs. She plopped her chin on her knees. “Now, that’s just putting pressure on me.”

“Even better.”

“Hmm…” She rocked back and forth as she ruminated, gazing around the expanse of her garden.

“Any day now.”

“It’s a tough question!”

Hunter snorted.

“I think…” She said finally, slow and pensive. “If I were to consider a favourite plant, I would probably just consider my mood and equate it to the language of the flowers.

Hunter clenched a triumphant fist. “So, they can talk!”

This was becoming one of his favourite Willow laughs, where he uttered something that she hadn’t expected and it surprised a laugh right out of her. It made a very pretty jingling sound.

“Not like that. I mean….look at this.” Willow climbed to a stand and drifted past where he was sitting. When she realized he wasn’t making any effort to follow her, she lifted a finger.

“Up.”

Hunter let out a strangled yelp as a plump, fuzzy bloom erupted directly beneath him, successfully launching him to his feet. He was stumbling where he stood, arms thrown out to keep his balance when he processed what the Hell just happened.

“Hey!”

Willow’s giggles wobbled high the air, catching in the breeze.

She led him to a patch of technicolored flowers. They resembled curled up wrinkled paper, all crawling up stems and tight for space. Willow gestured to it all with jazzy hands and a silly little “Ta da~”

“I’ve never seen flowers like this before.” Hunter commented, crouching to his knees for a more thorough examination. “And these are your favourite? In the whole garden?”

“No, they were my favourite plant yesterday. Because that was when I was determined to start my Flyer Derby team. It was game time.” She emphasized, punching a fist into her palm. “And that’s exactly what gladiolus flowers represent. Battle! Strength! Integrity!”

With every declaration, her fist pumped closer and closer to Hunter’s face and if this were anyone else, he would swear he was about to be socked in the jaw.

This new bout of information had piqued his interest, and something was beginning to bubble, to sizzle, to explode.  

“There’s a….a code for flowers?” He asked, making absolute certain that he was hearing this right.

“Exactly! Of course there’s also a language behind plants native to the Boiling Isles and it’s pretty much common knowledge. However, there’s barely any witches who are interested in the meanings behind Human Realm flowers. Which is a little sad because I’ve always found them--”

“Teach me.”

Willow’s prattle came to a staggering halt and she gaped at Hunter like he had suddenly turned himself upside-down. She even cocked her head in an attempt to see him right side up. “You—you’re really….? I didn’t think flower language would be your thing.”

“Are you serious? This is exactly my thing.” Hunter corrected her, grinning.  

There was potential here for something structured and elaborate, which was very much within the realm of Hunter’s interest, and he was so willing to expand on it further that his head was beginning to spin.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, you said so yourself, when it comes to Human Realm flowers, it’s practically a dead language, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So!” Hunter did not recall leaning into such close proximity to Willow until she took an instinctive step back, and when he clapped his hands on her shoulders, he was too filled with enthusiasm to second guess it.

“Just think of the information you could conceal in a bouquet without risk of it being compromised! Secret plans, strategies, all things confidential. It’s a completely untapped method of communication.”

“Hunter, I don’t think the meanings behind plants are detailed enough for that,”

“Then we’ll add to it! We’ll develop it into something more complex, using the already existent language as a basic structure. It’ll be fun!”

He didn’t realize he was jostling her until he caught the glasses sliding down her nose. The sense of something out of place bothered him, so he absentmindedly pushed them up.

Willow’s eyes were blown wide, which was to be expected when he was spitting out so much information at a possibly overwhelming rate. He thus made an effort to speak slower when he opened his mouth again.

“Look, I picked up texting fast and I know I can pick up this too. Just teach me a basic understanding of deciphering flowers, that’s all I ask.”  

At that, Willow’s bewildered face twitched into something mischievous. “And just who exactly would be sending you flowers, Hunter?”

Hunter blinked at her, uncomprehending.

Was she seriously not following him here?

“Who else? You, Captain.”

In what was an extremely perplexing reaction, Willow was so stunned that she blushed pure fire, a strange noise squeaking from the back of her throat.

She turned away from him, fingers gripping the hair from her scalp like she was having some sort of meltdown, before seizing tight on her pigtails.

Hunter stared at her, wondering the extent of her reservations about awesome new forms of language. He had expected her to be a lot more enthusiastic about the whole concept of what was essentially texting but with flowers. Now, he knew Willow loved both those things, so what was all this about?

He inched closer, attempting to peer at the face directed firmly on the ground. This fuss was truly bizarre.

“Captain?” He murmured, voice thick with hesitation.

She chanced a glance up, only to immediately lock eyes with Hunter. He picked up the soft stutter of her breath and the wild flare of jungle green irises, but before he could say anything more, she had shoved him away by the face.

“Ack-- ” Hunter grunted, attempting to pry away the hand that was squishing up his nose.

“Fine, Hunter.” Sighed Willow, and once she finally let her hand fall, he got a clear look at her.

The ghost of a full face flush still blotched in her cheeks but she had regained enough composure to smile. It was that peculiar smile that Hunter had seen touch her lips quite a few time today, and the only emotion he could compare it to was exasperation.

“I’ll teach you some flowers. Maybe we’ll start tomorrow. And…” Her voice lowered, gaze retreating to the ground. “Maybe once you’re semi-fluent, I’ll send you one or two messages. Maybe.”

Hunter guessed that he had failed to disguise how pleased he was, as Willow promptly laughed at the look on his face.

“You still haven’t answered my original question.” He said as he followed her through the garden. Because if there was one thing Hunter was becoming accustomed to, it was following Willow around.

“Which question?”

“What’s your favourite plant? Today’s favourite plant?”

Willow’s footsteps halted. She sucked down on her bottom lip in consideration before fixing a look on Hunter that he could not hope to untangle the meaning behind. Her eyes travelled from his bare fidgeting hands all the way to the stray forelock that dangled over his eye.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

[soldiermom1973]

RE: Migraines

Y’all, I need to be real with you about something.  Migraines suck.  They are the worst.  If you get them, you get it.  If you don’t, well, all I can say is picture putting your head in a vise and having someone close it.  Or have someone stab the back of your neck repeatedly with a dull ice pick.  Or have someone push your eyeballs back into your head with their thumbs. Or some combination thereof. Add to that - not being able to have lights on because DEAR SWEET MARY MOTHER OF GOD IT HURTS like looking dead-on into some pencil-dick redneck’s jacked up truck lights set at a billion candlepower, whispering being too loud, not being able to talk because it hurts to move your jaw (which kind of rules out eating, too).  Hell, even blinking can hurt.  And don’t get me started on the nausea and how puking does absolutely nothing to quell the jackhammers in your head.  And the auras, the spots...  for me, it’s like when a camera flash goes off and you have that blind spot in your vision.  The vertigo can be a nightmare.

Why am I bothering you with this?  Because my beloved Kaidan Alenko gets migraines.  Like, I’m just coming off of a FOUR FUCKING DAY REIGN OF PAIN IN MY FUCKING HEAD.  I missed 3 days of fucking work - I work food service on a college campus, so my job doesn’t really get too loud.  But Kaidan?  He calls them ‘headaches’, bless his maple-syrup soul.  This is a man who doesn’t complain about the pain, the noise, the lights...  he shows up for his shifts on the ship and POWERS THE FUCK THROUGH.  On top of that, we know he heads off ship and help Shepard sort out whatever shenaniganary is going on.  And that means....  BOOM STICKS! (read: guns)  Which can be incredibly fucking loud.  I tried going to work tonight & my boss sent me home.  As I left, all I could seriously think about was how the fuck Kaidan managed.  I know it isn’t the pain olympics, but seriously - I’m a tough cookie with a pretty high pain threshold and there is NO WAY IN FUCKING HELL I could do his job with a migraine.

I will also forever be salty that his migraines are nothing more than a footnote in that game.

So the next time I hear someone call Kaidan ‘whiny’ or ‘boring’ because he ‘gets headaches’, I swear I’m going to make a voodoo doll of that person and throw it in the garbage disposal at work.