#which is echo getting the blanket he deserved

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

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Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

Next

[milkteahood]

together through it all

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: being there for Simon during one of his many night terrors

“No! No! Fuck no! Please… please not her. DON’T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME”

Sweat broke on Simon’s forehead as he jolted awake, gasping for air. Stumbling, almost as if running from something, he made it to the bathroom where he threw himself over the toilet, puking his guts out. His whole body was breaking in cold sweat, shaking, with a blurry vision.

He didn’t hear you come in and almost attacked you when you placed a hand on him. He stopped midway, eyes bloodshot, his body only shaking harder when he realized it was only you.

“Si? Baby, it’s ok” your soft voice echoed in his mind, hand running up and down his back as he started vomiting again.

It wasn’t the first time this happened. Simon had severe ptsd, and this reaction was nothing new. He tried to warn you, saying you wouldn’t be happy with him. To go find someone that can actually love you normally. But he didn’t get to decide for you. And over time you got better and better at helping him when needed.

“You’re ok Si” you spoke gently, using a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

He didn’t respond, but when he finally looked up at you, his face was incredibly pale. His lips were losing color too, and his eyes were a little glossy. This panic attack was one of the worst you’d seen him have.

Your hands cupped his face, and without even realizing it, he leaned into your touch, almost to see if you were actually real.

“You’re ok now” you said. Again, he didn’t respond. His breathing was heavy, and he closed his eyes, leaning more into your touch.

You held him for a while, giving him time to relax. His head almost fell onto your chest and strong arms wrapped themselves around you. There was something different about all of it. The way he held you, as if he was almost afraid you would vanish into thin air.

“Do you feel alright enough to walk?” you asked, arms wrapped around his neck, holding his head close to your chest. He only nodded in response.

As you stood up, you gently helped him up too, using your body to support his.

Once you made it to the bedroom, he collapsed on the bed, but still refused to let go of you.

He didn’t speak, his body still slowly shaking as he buried his face deeper into your chest, taking in your scent, trying to convince himself you’re actually real. He’s not hallucinating. You’re indeed there, trying to wrap a blanket around him as he refuses to let you move.

Once the blanket was over both of you, you resumed your gentle touches, fingers running through his hair as his breathing was slowing. Your fingers worked like magic on him. Your patience, something he never saw himself worthy of. All the times he yelled at you during one of his episodes. And even now, he was about to attack you. He didn't understand why someone like you would put up with someone like him. He didn't deserve you, he was sure of that. But he will be damned before he lets anyone take you away from him.

“You’re ok now” you said again, kissing the top of his head “it’s just us here” you continued, nose nuzzling his hair.

He nodded, closing his eyes.

You only closed yours once you heard the soft snoring coming out of your lover’s mouth.

“I love you, Si” you said, earning yourself a little snore in return, which made you chuckle.

[tteokdoroki]

tw ! slight age gap, reader is older, cheating, fingering, smut.

hello going on a business trip or to a conference, escaping your mundane life and the marriage that brings you nothing.

you’ve really gone on this trip to get away from your dead bedroom and the spouse that treats you like nothing more than a money maker.

which leads you to having a chance encounter with bakugou at the bar of the hotel your conference is at. you remember him from one of the panels — he’s young for this field of work but incredibly handsome, has brilliant red eyes that draw you in like magnetising poles, he makes you laugh and from your belly too. he’s everything your current spouse is not, there’s a spark inside you that you haven’t felt in years and bakugou knows it too. he makes you feel beautiful and seen and all he’s done is buy you a drink with a sour olive in it.

you find yourself stumbling behind him after one too many drinks, katsuki guiding you back to your hotel room — the good man that he is. you’ve both got panels to attend tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. it wouldn’t be wise to spend the rest of the night basking in booze and one another’s company. but when you get the door, failing to slip your key card into the slot — the blonde’s hand touches yours to help you get it in and all sense of logic is lost.

you no longer feel drained by mundane life waiting for you back home, you no longer think of your boring spouse in currently sleeping in your marital bed where they fail to make you feel loved. from the moment katsuki’s hand had touched yours, all you could feel was electricity, the longing and the wanting you’ve been desperately craving.

his lips drag sweep across your skin in heated motions and they find pleasure spots you’re not sure you even knew existed. bakugou’s fingers map out every inch of your body as though he may never touch you again, they dip past the forbidden band of your a-line skirt and write secret promises of pleasure against your clit because you’re married and the both of you know this is wrong.

one touch turns into another, dull and thick fingers stretch you open and graze your g-spot with an ease your spouse could never find. you e never felt this good, your lashes flutter against katsuki’s neck as he holds you to his chest and finger fucks you to the high heavens…because you’re just a hardworking woman who hasn’t had her pussy ruined in a long time, not like you deserve. he grins when you cream on just two of his fingers, such a good girl, so easy to please.

“such a pretty girl… such a hard worker ‘n no one to take care of you,” the blonde purrs into your ear before pushing you into the plush pillows and blankets below. there’s a gravel in his voice that raises at the heartbeat between your legs, not to mention the perfect view of him loosening his shirt and tie above you. “s’that why you’ve fallen into bed with the youngest guy here. ‘cause i got what it takes t’keep up with ya, yeah? make you feel better than that poor excuse of a fuck you got back home?”

bakugou grins slow and sexy when your hips rise from the bed on instinct at his words and he kisses you just to reward you, a poor touch starved little thing. its hungry and sloppy and messy and somewhere in the mix of his tongue wrapped around yours and your hands in his hair — the blonde has ripped through your stockings and slipped his aching, dripping slick cock past your quivering entrance.

he feels like home inside you, feels you up to the brim and sends your eyes rolling back into the depths of your skull. every stroke is calculated, every piston of katsuki’s meaty girth purposive and intentional — crafted to make you see stars with every jolt of your body up the bed. you can’t go back to regular old life after tonight, you won’t be able to go back to the way things were without picturing bakugou’s tie hanging loosely above you and hearing his deep moans echo throughout your mind.

that night you leave marks on one another that you’ll be hiding for weeks, smiling at when no one is looking, reminiscing the sinful experience shared in this very hotel room. there’s too much passion in the room for this to just remain a one time thing, too much emotion behind the act saliva swept lip lock or love bite left below the line of future clothes to be worn.

you know that you won’t give katsuki up especially when he kisses you as you cum together, thick white seeping between your swollen and ravaged folds.

you’ll do anything to be underneath bakugou like this again, even if it means planning fake business trips every other weekend to get away from your spouse and get fucked to the high heavens by your young hot colleague.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[eoieopda]

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

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multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Eat Your Young

Astarion and Tav take advantage of the rainy weather in camp. Pure smut, no plot.

Pairings: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, swearing. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Listen, usually I like a lil plot but Astarion sometimes deserves just some good ole smut, right?! Also inspired by the Hozier song, "Eat Your Young"

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

Astarion's hand roughly ran down your neck, the candles in his tent casting shadows over the space. He hissed in pleasure as his fingers gracefully found your collarbone, his nails tickling the skin around your neck. You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed.

"This is not what I came in here for." You said, even though you knew that was a lie.

Well, partly.

Basically since the beginning of your adventure with the companions, you and Astarion had found yourselves drawn to each other. First as friends, but then quickly into a sexual situation. A way to satiate yourselves, and to have a bit of shining light in the darkness that was all the doom and gloom and battle and blood.

"Oh?" Astarion asked, his mouth dangerously close to your neck, "And what did you actually come in here for?" His voice was melodic, almost a purr. You felt his fangs lightly drag across your neck - enough to leave a scratch, but not enough to break skin. You gasped.

"F-for the book," You were able to choke out, one of your hands finding his hair. You ran your fingers through his locks, earning a quick moan from Astarion, "The book I lent you last week. I know you're done reading it, so-"

"You came all the way across camp in a rain storm for a book you could easily get from me tomorrow?" He pulled away, his eyes twinkling. It was bullshit, and he knew it. "Is that why both of our clothes are off, and were discarded on the floor within 45 seconds of you coming into my tent, my pet?"

"Um..." You bit your lip and both of you smiled, "I'm easily distracted." You tried to argue, but Astarion's lips were on you again, his tongue quickly finding yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body on yours, his erection pressing into your stomach. Thunder clapped outside, causing you to jump, which caused Astarion to wrap his arm around your back tighter, bringing you closer.

"What do you want, my darling? Tell me," He pulled away from your mouth, but his lips were still touching yours. Your heart pounded in your chest from his breath on your face, "Tell me what you want." His voice was velvet smooth, causing your stomach to clench. You groaned, unable to stop yourself - how did this fucking man know exactly what to say, and exactly what to do to get you going?

"I want your cock in my mouth," You said quickly, it coming out as one breath. His eyebrows raised and he smirked, wordlessly pushing himself to the edge of the bed to give you space. Looking down at his erection, you felt a wave of heat rush to your clit, unable to contain yourself.

Before he could even lay down, your mouth was on his cock hungrily. He moaned in surprise, his voice echoing off the tent walls. Immediately your mouth filled with spit as you worked on his thick member, using your tongue the exact way you knew he loved. His hands found their way into your hair and pulled, causing you to grip the blankets underneath your hands.

"Hells, you're so fucking good," Astarion grumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "Deeper." He commanded.

You made your way fully down on his member, causing his hips to buck in your mouth. You felt your eyes water a bit, and pulled up, taking your mouth completely off of his cock. "Does that feel good?" You toyed, pumping him in your hand. He moved his head back to look at you, his eyes a deep red. You watched the end of his mouth turn up in the shadow of a smile.

Suddenly, the rain started to beat harder against the tent walls.

In one swift movement, Astarion's hand grabbed your chin, pull you on top of him. His member, slick with your spit and precum, slid against your body, causing you to gasp. He looked between your eyes before hungrily crashing his lips against yours again, this time pulling your hair roughly.

"Not as good as it'll feel when I'm inside of you." He said in your ear, before biting your lobe. You moaned loudly, the noise getting lost in the rain.

"Then fuck me."

"Say please."

"Please, Astarion! I need you."

"You need me to what?"

"To fuck me. I need your dick inside of me." You reached down to his cock and started to pump him again, causing Astarion to erupt a small moan from his lips. He looked into your eyes one final time before he flipped you below him.

"On your stomach." He said, waiting patiently. He was sitting high up on his knees, looking down on you. Now, his cock was in his own hand and he stroked it slowly, taking the full length of his member in his palm. He didn't break eye contact as you got on your belly. Soon, you felt him spread your legs gently, and his body weight pressed on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll be screaming to the gods by the end of it." He murmured in your ear. You shuddered at his voice, and soon you felt him lining himself up at your entrance.

"Oh, Astarion..." You breathe, your thoughts becoming a jumbled mess. You heard him chuckle before he continued on.

"Are you ready?" He asked. You felt like you couldn't speak, your stomach was so clenched in anticipation. You nodded, and almost instantly his cock was deep inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You called out, lifting your head. As you lifted your head, Astarion took hold of your hair and pulled.

"Gods, you are so fucking tight." He groaned, every word accentuated by a thrust inside of you. You clapped you hand over your mouth so you wouldn't cry out, but he pulled it away, "Don't. I want everyone to hear."

"Fuck, Astarion!" You called out, his hands finding your hips for better leverage. You felt a heat start to rise within you, causing you to breath harder. "Don't stop! Right there-"

"Right there?" He purred, his voice teasing, "Right there and I'm going to make my good girl come?"

"Yes!" You moaned, his voice ripping through you, "Yes right there and I'm going to come. Don't stop!"

The sound of his cock pounding into you filled the tent as your mind became foggy. The pleasure started to soften the sides of your vision as Astarion gripped your hips, definitely leaving marks for tomorrow. As your words turned into incoherent noises, you felt Astarion thrust into you harder, making sure you felt filled.

"Show me you're a good girl," He murmured, his voice steady; in control. As Astarion often was - in control. It drove you crazy, usually the catalyst in tipping you over the edge. "Be my good girl and come for me."

Finally, you felt yourself spill over him as you cried out his name - the heat rose completely in you and for a moment, Astarion stopped thrusting in you, taking his hands and wrapping them around your waist, so that he could feel your orgasm completely. With your head so close to his, he whispered words of praise in your ear - "Good girl. That's it - come for me. Let me feel it. Give me all of it."

You panted, your thoughts finally starting to align again. As you regained control of your body, Astarion gently flipped you over. Spreading your legs open, he entered you again slowly, earning a whimper from you. Two thrusts in and he caused you to throw your head back, crying his name.

"That's it - that's my girl," He hissed, speeding his thrusts up slowly, "Let me see that pretty face, darling. Your pretty face is going to make me come."

"Astarion, FUCK. You feel so good!" You couldn't help yourself as he started again, one of his hands finding it's way to your erect nipples. He pinched and palmed your tits as they bounced with every thrust - the sight of your body bouncing, and your face calling his name, he wasn't far behind you with an orgasm. But, he wanted it to last...

He wanted to wear you out.

It was always so sexy seeing you struggle in the following days, knowing that he alone was the cause.

"Your cock...feels so good..." You panted, your hands finding their way to his shoulder blades. Thunder clapped again, drowning out the scream you cried as Astarion hit your spot. Once he realized how crazy he was driving you, he smiled.

"All for you," He grunted, "This cock is all for you." Sweat beaded at his temples as he stared into your eyes. They were dark, hungry - he started to get the glint in his eyes that he would before he was sent over the edge.

Astarion pounded into so hard that the bed groaned under the pressure. You could feel Astarion's body start to tense above you, so you gripped Astarion's ass, pushing him deeper into you.

The extra effort made you start to see stars, and Astarion was on the same page; "I'm close," He grunted, touching his forehead to yours, "Hells, you're going to make me come."

"Come for me," You breathed, placing a sloppy, rough kiss on his lips, "Come for me."

Suddenly, Astarion called out your name, and you felt him spill into you. The tension in his body reached his climax and gradually released, his body laying completely on top of you.

The only noise in the tent - besides the pounding rain - was your and Astarion's breathing. The shallow, quick breaths turned into deeper, heftier breaths and you regained your composure, the heating slowly leaving your body.

"Gods, you're beautiful." Astarion murmured, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ear gently. He delicately placed a kiss on your lips as he slid down to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight. You sighed contently, running a hand over his side and snuggling your head closer into his shoulder. A moment of silence passed before you spoke.

"I did actually come here for that book, you know." You teased, causing him to chuckle.

"Oh? Would you like me to go get it for you then?" He asked, pretending to get out of bed. You giggled and gently pushed him back down.

"Shut up," You playfully scolded him, "I just wanted to let you know that I didn't just come here to seduce you."

"But darling, it's so much fun getting seduced by you." He looked at you and smirked, his eyes sparkling. You rolled your eyes and placed a kiss on his mouth.

"Well...I guess I'll have to let you borrow my books more often, then."

------

My first time doing smut with no plot - I'm gonna be honest, I don't know how I feel about it yet! What did you all think?

Just a reminder: my inbox is open for requestions!

[pretzel-box]

I’m back!! And I have an idea!

Mkmk so could we please get a Happy Ending type fic where after reader and Sebastian escape the facility, reader brings him home and makes him a good, home cooked meal?? I’m such a sucker for sweet domestic shit and I NEED Sebastian to finally be able to relax.

Thank you so much!

Tags: Established Relationship, Happy End, Fluff, Domestic Life, Reader and Sebastian are living together in a sea-side home. Both are emotional.

Words: 2,2k

Authors note: I wrote it on two different days and isn't proof read, so maybe it sounds weird.

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest, the echoes of gunshots still reverberating in his mind. He stared at you, disoriented, his eyes wide with the lingering terror of his situation. It took him a moment to realize where he was, to understand that the screams, the glass shattering, and you. He saw you in front of him, screaming in panic, yelling, pulling on his coat as if your life depends on it. And somehow, he couldn't hear your voice no matter how hard he tried, his ears blocking out the sound.

“Se…b…ti..n”

“Seb…ast…ian…”

“Sebas…tian.”

He blinked a few times, his vision adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains that floated gently in the sea-breeze. The smell of the salty ocean mixed with the delicious aroma of the breakfast you had prepared for him. His body, tense and curled up, began to relax as the reality of the present settled in.

You stood by his bedside, your expression a mix of concern and tenderness. Your hand rested gently on his shoulder, the warmth of your touch grounding him, pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare. A nightmare. It was just a memory after all and the realization made him sink back in the pile of pillows you got him.

"Sebastian," you repeated softly, your voice steady and calm. “You were having a nightmare again.” You offered a small smile, trying to comfort him. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn't be the last. The events were still fresh in your memories. "I brought you breakfast. I thought it might help."

He looked at the tray, eyes lingering on the sunny-side-up eggs, the crispy bacon, the fresh slices of bread, and the hand-poured coffee that steamed invitingly. His stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten properly in… well, he couldn’t remember how long. The sight of the food, the smell of it, suddenly made him aware of just how hungry he was.

“It looks… really good,” he murmured, his voice still a bit shaky. “Thank you.”

You smiled warmly, setting the tray down on the small bedside table in his reach. "It’s the least I could do," you said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. His body was squished in the bed, his tail sticking a bit over the bed frame, so there wasn't much space for you. “You’ve been through a lot. I thought maybe a good meal might help you feel a bit more at home.”

Sebastian nodded, his eyes still searching your face, as if looking for reassurance that this wasn’t another cruel trick of his mind. That you were really there, that this place—this peaceful, cozy home by the sea—was real.

He sat up slowly, the rather small blanket falling away from his shoulders. His tail, which had been twitching anxiously, calmed as he reached for the coffee. He took a careful sip, savoring the rich, warm taste. It was a simple thing, but it was the best coffee he had ever had.

“This is… nice,” he said, his voice soft, almost uncertain. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. “It’s just coffee, Sebastian. Nothing fancy.”

“To me, it is,” he replied, his gaze meeting yours. There was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “All of this… it’s more than I’ve ever had.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You deserve this, Sebastian. You deserve a home, a place to feel safe. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

He felt his heart swell at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—relief, gratitude, something warmer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He had been through so much—too much—but here, with you, he felt a glimmer of hope. A chance for something better.

He set the coffee down and turned to you, his hand still in yours. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

You leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. We’re in this together. Always.”

He closed his eyes, taking in the comfort of your presence, the softness of your touch. He breathed in deeply, letting the scent of the sea and the breakfast you made fill his senses. For the first time in a long time, he felt… at peace.

“Do you want to eat together?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but knowing he needed to eat.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You moved the tray onto your lap, cutting into the eggs and bacon, offering him a forkful. He hesitated for a moment, blushing hard at the sudden offer, then leaned forward, taking the bite. His eyes closed as he savored the taste, a soft hum of approval escaping his lips. The taste of a lovingly self-made breakfast filled his mouth and it touched him to have such a meal after years of isolation and trauma.

“This is amazing,” he said, opening his eyes to look at you with genuine appreciation. “You’re amazing.”

You laughed softly, a blush creeping onto your own cheeks. “I’m just glad you like it. I wasn’t sure if you’d have an appetite after… well, everything.”

He nodded, understanding. “It’s… it’s a lot to take in. But this,” he gestured around the room, “this is good. Better than good. It feels… right.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

For a while, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal. The tension from Sebastian’s nightmare slowly ebbed away, replaced by a sense of calm, of normalcy.

After breakfast, you helped him out of bed, leading him to the small kitchen where you started brewing another pot of coffee. The room was filled with the rich, warm scent, and Sebastian leaned against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

As the coffee brewed, you turned to him, reaching out to brush a thumb across his cheek. “You’re safe here, Sebastian. I promise. No more nightmares. No more running.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes once more to savor the moment. “I know,” he whispered. “With you, I finally feel… like I’m home.”

You pulled him into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you in return. You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, listening to the soft rhythm of the waves outside.

When you finally pulled back, you cupped his face in your hands, looking into his eyes. “Stay with me, Sebastian. We can make a life here, together. A real life.”

He nodded, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice a soft whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

And in that moment, in the quiet comfort of your kitchen, with the sea breeze drifting through the open windows, you both knew that you had found something precious—something worth fighting for. A chance at happiness, at love, at a life free from the horrors of the past.

The sun had risen higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over your small seaside home. The breakfast dishes were cleared away, and the rich aroma of fresh coffee still lingered in the air. Sebastian was seated at the kitchen table as best as he could with his tall size, his eyes following your every move as you bustled about, wiping down counters and humming a soft tune.

You could feel his gaze on you, warm and intent, and it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Ever since you had rescued him from the facility, brought him back to this sanctuary you called home, there had been a quiet understanding between you—a deep, unspoken bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

Finally, you turned to face him, leaning back against the counter with a playful smile. “You know, you’re allowed to help around here,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not your maid, you know.”

Sebastian chuckled, his lips curling into a soft smile that reached his eyes. “I would, but I’m not sure I’d do it right. You seem to have a system,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you saying I’m a neat freak?”

“Maybe,” he teased back, his smile growing wider. “But I don’t mind. It’s… comforting. Feels natural.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You knew how much he had been through, the horrors he had witnessed and endured, and to hear him say that this place—the home you had made together—felt like home to him meant more than you could express.

Pushing off the counter, you moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on the back of the chair he was sitting in. “Well,” you said softly, your tone turning more serious, “I want you to feel at home here, Sebastian. I want you to feel like this is where you belong.”

His gaze softened, his eyes searching yours. “I do,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I really do.”

There was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with unspoken emotions. Then, almost without thinking, you reached out, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you felt him lean into your hand, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Sebastian…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “I… I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would have done if…” Your own memories of the escape flashed through your mind.

He opened his eyes, capturing your gaze with an intensity that took your breath away. “I’m here,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, filling you with a warmth that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers. Without thinking, you leaned down, your forehead resting against his. The world seemed to pause, the only sound the gentle crashing of the waves outside and the soft beating of your heart.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, your lips so close to his that you could feel his breath against your skin. “I’m really, really glad.”

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss. Sebastian’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you worried you had crossed a line. But then his hand came up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

It was slow and sweet, a gentle interaction, a promise of something more. His lips were soft against yours, his touch tender and careful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still touching. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all you saw was warmth and affection—a deep, unspoken love that made your heart flutter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I just… I needed to know.”

Sebastian smiled, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Know what?”

“That this is real,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “That we’re real.”

He nodded, his smile soft and reassuring. “It is,” he said softly. “It’s as real as it gets.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling with happiness. “Good,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

Sebastian chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stood there for a moment longer, just holding each other, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment. Then, with a soft sigh, you pulled away, your hand slipping into his. “Come on,” you said, your tone bright and cheerful. “I’ll show you around the rest of the house. There’s a lot more to see than just the inside. I haven't showed you the back.”

He grinned, standing up and following you as you led him out of the kitchen and into the cozy backside of the house. The sun was streaming down from the blue sky, casting warm patches of light on the worn but comfortable outdoor furniture. An old wooden bench, placed with pillows and a jar of seashells you had collected over the years.

“This is nice,” Sebastian said, looking around with a smile. “Feels… free. "Comfortable."

The back of the house is directly connected to the sea, like a little porch hovering above the water.

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently. “It is.”

He looked at you, his expression soft and full of affection. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice full of sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian.”

He nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But I still want to.”

Your eyes sparkled in the sunlight. "Let’s go back inside...P.AI.nter must be awake by now too."

And as you walked together, hand in hand, the sun warming your skin, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. Because here, in this cozy home by the sea, with Sebastian by your side, you had found something precious—something worth holding onto after all the pain.

[imnameimswrld]

ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 ⁴⁴ ׄ ⑅ LH44 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in which getting stuck in an elevator brings you to a truth that had been hiding and eating away at your heart.

— PAIRING ੭ lewis hamilton x fem!ready.

— FILE ੭ imagine.

— DISCLAIMERS ੭ angsty with fluff at the end and a little in between, not (currently) edited.

❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

"Fuck !"

Lewis delivers a rattling kick to the sealed shut elevator doors, and the action pulls an eyeroll from you.

"Oh yeah, kick it some more maybe the stainless steel doors will open on Sir Lewis Hamilton's command !" your words drip in sarcasm, you tone causing your boyfriend to turn and face you in the corner you're slumped back in.

You hands rub at your arms that your knitted sweater is failing to block the cold from, and despite the tension between the two of you, Lewis can't stand the site of you cold. So, he rips his jacket off with a huff, walks over to the corner you wish could swallow you whole if it meant giving space from him, and tucks the jacket so carefully and neatly around your front that you almost regret your thought about the corner of the elevator snatching you away from him – almost.

The atmosphere in the broken down elevator becomes even more chilly with the tension that settles between the two of you. Half of you wants to hobble closer and cling to his natural body heat, and the other half wants to firmly plant your hands on his shoulders just to shove him further away.

His presence right now is simultaneously making you beg for space and wallow in guilt, and the only way things could get worse is if he starts talking-

"I just don't understand it, Y/n."

A groan of annoyance echoes loudly in the square space. "Seriously Lewis ? You're gonna make me feel bad about declining your proposal ?".

He rounds on you, facing you fully with anger simmering in his gaze; but it's mixed eith another emotion. Hurt.

"Of course not, but what I want is an apology."

Matching his defensive stance, the jacket slips from your shoulders as you turn so quickly to face him. "An apology ? You want me to apologize for saying "no Lewis, I'm not ready for another marriage yet" ?"

Lewis shakes his head, his eyes dead set on yours. "That's exactly it actually. But not for declining me, but for lying to me, Y/n."

A silence blankets the two of you, but unlike the purpose of the item, it doesn't enclose you in warmth and comfort; no, it suffocates you with a so deeply embedded feeling of guilt, that your breathing halts for just a moment.

You and Lewis have been dating for three years now. Before him, the thought of committing yourself to another after the disloyalty of your last, made you shudder and almost feel sick to the stomach. You minded your business and kept in your own bubble for the good part of a year, and then Lewis so calmly squeezed himself into your life with a charming accent and a dashing smile, and with how he made you feel, you knew that he was here to stay. You love him, more than you've ever loved anyone before. He would make the perfect husband; he's loyal, kind, loving, uplifting – but, in the midst of those thoughts, and the wonderful adventures you experienced together, you failed to mention that you just weren't ready.

Your throat bobs sorely with the harsh gulp you take, and with how Lewis follows the action action closely, he knows exactly how you feel. He knows he's right. He knows he deserves an apology, and he's not stopping until he gets it. Breaking up isn't an option for him; he's chosen you to spend forever with, and that's not going to change. What has to change for him, however, is the treatment in this relationship.

If you expect honesty and loyalty from him, then he expects the exact same in return.

"You lied," he states softly, his brows losing the angry knot they were in as he remembers that night. "You said you were ready. You know you said it, and yet...".

The second the tears start welling up in his coffee brown eyes, yours immediately respond in the same way.

"You lied."

"I know." you whisper, even your voice facing the aftermath of your dishonesty.

"Why, Y/n ?" he shakes his head slowly now, hand coming up on pure instinct just to swipe your falling tears away quickly, before returning to his sides. "It's not fair, and you know it."

You sniffle, your gaze failing to continue it's silent words with his and you drop it, eyes staring down at his Tommy H sneakers instead. This whole thing is the effect of your dishonesty back then, so it's best if you're honest now.

"I was scared."

"Scared ?" he repeats, before tucking your chin in between his forefinger and thumb to gently lift your chin, resetting your gaze with his. "Scared of what, love ?"

Lewis inches closer, and with each step your confidence in yourself breaks.

"I was scares that, if I said that I wasn't ready to be married again, you'd...you'd..." the words can't even leave your mouth, let alone formulate in your brain properly with the pain the bring you.

"Talk to me, my love."

And with his arms enveloping you to eliminate the remaining space separating you from him, you break in his warmth.

"I was scared that you'd leave me, Lewis."

The truth is here, revealed, and she's rattling your entire being with cries and guilt. Lewis rubs a hand on your back while the other holds you close, your tear-stained face buried deep into his chest where his heart beats in your ear. You don't understand why he's trying to soothe you when you're totally in the wrong here.

Still, you will never refuse anything he offers you. He just means that much to you.

"If that was ever a fear for you Y/n, then I haven't been doing my duty in loving you like I truly do." he says ever so softly in your ear, and you immediately pull away to stare up at him with reddening eyes.

"No, Lewis," you shake your head as he wipes more of your tears sway. "I am in the wrong. You have shown me what it is like to be loved wholly and with passion."

"So then why have such an irrational fear, my love ? I love you with my entire being, and I want to spend forever with you," he says, cradling your pink cheeks in his hands with the utmost amount of care.

"Now that doesn't mean we have to get married any time soon, because of course I want us both to be ready for a step like that. But I would appreciate your honesty where it is vitally needed."

You nod in, your hands going numb from the death grip that have on the material of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Lew," you state. "Right now, I'm not ready for the step of marriage, however, I am positive that I do, want to spend my forever, with you."

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he places a blossoming kiss to your forehead. "Perfect."

"What ? My apology ?" you snort, peering up at him with glassy eyes.

He nods as he begins to help you into his jacket. "That, and just you in general."

You slip your arms in as you shake your head in disagreement. "Perfect people don't make mistakes."

Tucked warmly into his jacket, Lewis pulls you close once again to thread his finger into your hair as you close your arms around his waist.

"Call me insane or hopelessly in love," his gaze is filled with every passionate emotion unde under the sun as he stares into your eyes.

"But you'll always be perfect to me, my love."

[babyleostuff]

my little gamer | jeon wonwoo

when wonwoo came home from work, happy they let him and the boys end their schedule a bit earlier, he definitely didn’t expect you to be passed out on the couch.

with groceries, and your favourite candy in the bags he was sure you’d get to spend a bit of well deserved quality time over making dinner, maybe end the night with a movie, or him reading you a book in bed. but it looked like you had other plans. 

wonwoo quietly grabbed the blanket that was draped over your couch, and gently tucked you in, making sure you were properly covered, kneeling before your sleeping figure. his fingertips found their way to your hair that fell over your face, and gently, as not to wake you, he swept them away, revealing your pouty mouth, and rosy cheeks. 

wonwoo knew you didn’t like it when he took pictures of you when you were sleeping, always insisting you looked horrible when asleep, but wonwoo would do everything to have his polaroid with him now so he could capture this moment. 

he grabbed the bags from the floor, and not thinking too much about what made you so tired that you needed to nap in the middle of the day, he started preparing dinner, so you could eat when you woke up. 

“so cute,” he thought to himself, as he peeked from around the corner to see if you were still sleeping. 

soon, the smell of food woke you up from your slumber, making your stomach growl. at first, you were very confused why you could smell food, when your fridge and cabinets were out of anything proper to eat, but that’s when you noticed a familiar pair of glasses laying on the table. 

“wonwoo?” you raised yourself to sitting, fixing the cardigan of his you were wearing. he wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of hours, and it was very unusual for the boys to end things so early in the afternoon. your mind started racing in worry that something bad had happened. 

“wonwoo?” you asked a bit louder, stumbling because of the blanket, which was wrapped around your body. weird, you couldn’t remember covering yourself with it. 

passing by the kitchen, you noticed a pot on the stove with something bubbling inside, and from the smell alone, you knew it was your favourite ramyeon. but wonwoo was nowhere to be seen. 

deciding to help him out with dinner, you turned down the heat a bit, so it wouldn’t spill, and busied yourself with cutting the vegetables that were already laying on the counter, convinced that your boyfriend just went to the bathroom. 

“what are these?” suddenly, wonwoo’s voice echoed through your rather quiet apartment, scaring you to the point where you almost cut yourself with the knife. offended, you turned to him. “i could’ve hurt myself,” but your voice faltered, as you saw what he was holding. 

in his left hand, he was clutching his old gaming headset, and in the other, some games you knew he didn’t play anymore. a warm rush of embarrassment rushed through your body, your cheeks turning into a pretty shade of red. wonwoo, on the other hand, seemed rather amused - both by the thighs he found in your room, and your reaction. 

you weren’t much of a gamer - you didn’t find it entertaining, and you weren’t really good at it either. you usually watched him play, cuddled to his side with a teacup in your hands. that was so much more fun than gaming. 

“care to explain, baby?” he smiled at you, setting the stuff on the counter. you knew wonwoo would never judge you for what you did, yet you couldn’t help but look down avoiding his gaze. “hey, it’s okay. look at me, baby,” he gently cupped your face, lifting your head, so your eyes could meet, as his thumbs stroked your cheeks in a soothing manner.

“i just…,” you took a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself before the embarrassment would eat you up. “i just wanted to be better at gaming,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of wonwoo’s shirt. 

he looked at you with a puzzled expression, his brows furrowed, and mouth in a small pout. “but you don’t like gaming. i don’t think i’ve ever seen you game since we began dating.” 

you sighed in defeat - you had to tell him why you took his stuff, wonwoo would not back down now. “i don’t like it, but i wanted to be better… for you,” you shyly admitted. “i know how much you enjoy gaming, and i didn’t want to be that girlfriend who doesn’t give a shit about her boyfriend's hobbies.” 

“but why would you force yourself?” wonwoo asked, stunned by your confession. his thumbs halted their movement, his whole attention focused on you. “you know i would never expect you to do something you don’t enjoy.” 

“i know. i just thought you’d be happy if i learned how to play.”

wonwoo let out a sigh, sneaking his hand to the back of your head, cradling it closer to his chest, so he could place his head on top of yours. “i would be happy knowing you do something you truly enjoy, and not force yourself to do something you don't like just to please me,” he wrapped his other arm around your waist, bringing you even closer to his body. 

“i love it when you watch me game. i love your presence next to me, and i wouldn’t change it for the world.” he smiled softly at you, patting your head, as you fell into a comfortable silence. with the feeling of embarrassment long forgotten, you let yourself melt into his embrace, nuzzling your head further up his neck, as you inhaled the familiar smell of his cologne. 

“wait,” wonwoo suddenly pulled your head back, and looked at you with a slightly worried expression. “don’t tell me you were sleeping now, because you stayed up last night gaming.” 

“please, don’t be mad?” you tried giving him your best puppy eyes, knowing that one - he wouldn’t fall for them either way, and two - he’d end up scolding you for staying up so late. “you’re such a hypocrite, honey. how many times have you told me to go to bed, and scolded me for staying up so late, hm?” he cupped your cheek, his gaze full of concern. 

“i did it for you, won.”

“you’re truly unbelievable, honey. 

the bubbling of the ramyeon brought you back to reality, wonwoo’s grip loosening to quickly take care of the boiling soup.

“would you help me?” 

“what was that, baby?” 

you put your hand on his back. “i want you to teach me how to game, and not because i want to make you happy. i really want to try.” 

“of course i’ll help you,” he smiled, and pecked your forehead. “my little gamer.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @wonuwoo12 @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @vicehectic

[drluvsick]

𝟑𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 — 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨

you and muichiro chat at 3am, leading to him making sure you know that you deserve him. for context, you both are hashiras who sleep in the same estate but in different rooms. established dating.

word count : 698

you waited for the herbal tea boiling on the stove as you took part in listening to the pour of the rain outside. it was comforting to say the least as it was chilly, bringing you to take the spare blanket you kept to drape it over your shoulders.

small footsteps echoed through the halls, immediately averting your attention to the sounds. you must’ve woken up muichiro. sure enough, as he stumbled into the kitchen, his sleepy face greeted you as he made his way over.

“sorry, muichiro. didn’t mean to cause such a ruckus,” you apologized with a tired tone, “go back to bed, alright? i’ll try to be there soon.”

he had his blanket draped around his shoulders as well. his voice, equally as drained as yours, spoke as he wrapped his arms around you. “i can’t sleep. can we cuddle?”

you loved this side of him, the side that awakened once having first tried hugging you. even after he’d regained his memories, there were still some emotions that he held away from others but opened up to you, such as his clinginess.

you reciprocated muichiro’s actions, moving your arms under his blanket to feel closer to him. you slid the cover off, throwing it onto the nearby chair as well as yours.

you made a noise of approval before ruffling his hair a bit. you both listened to the pitter-patters of the rain as it felt as if you two were the only ones in the world awake at that moment.

“…i made some tea, by the way. i’ll get two cups for us.” you reluctantly separated from him, much to his dismay. as if on cue, once you got the two said cups, the tea kettle whistled for you to fetch the contents inside.

having both your drinks in hand, you and muichiro sat down at the table.

blowing the steam rising from the tea away, muichiro shimmied his chair closer to yours. small talk was a thing you’d both enjoyed on early mornings like this, so he asked, “how was your last mission?”

“went well, nothing too exciting,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your tea. “you?”

“same here. but that demon pissed me off,” his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“oh, the infamously stoic muichiro tokito being angry? how so?” you lightly teased.

“apparently he knew about us. he cursed you out. so i slashed him to pieces after slitting his mouth.” he said, perfectly serious before his mouth curved upwards a bit sinisterly at the memory.

you giggled and said you appreciated the gesture. he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully drinking his share of the tea. “oh, muichiro, i don’t deserve you…” you murmured mostly to yourself after a pause, hoping the rain would cover what you’d said.

he lifted his head up to look at you with a questioning gaze. “what makes you say that?”

“well…”—you looked up, away from his staring—“…you just…i guess…” you stumbled over your words, figuring out how to word this.

“if anything, i don’t deserve you.” he boldly said, making you snap your head to look at him in surprise. the usually calm, “air headed” hashira saying this? even if you two had been dating for quite a while, it still took you by surprise.

he continued. “remember when we first met? and the few times after when i’d forgotten who you were and you kept having to remind me?”

“but everyone did tha—”

“and how you kept being nice to me; even if you sometimes scolded me on my arrogance, which was rightfully done, after i’d brushed you off multiple times? i think i even called you ‘annoying’ and ‘a waste of breath’.” muichiro had put his cup down on the table, holding your arm. “i take those insults back, by the way.”

“you…remember that?” you were even more in awe of him.

“…i can remember a lot about you.” he finished with a slight smile.

you smiled back and ran your fingers through his hair. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he shut his eyes, the two of you in a comforting space in time listening to the continuous rain.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[obeymematches]

Can I request the brothers reacting to mc saying i love you to them for the first time.

yessssss ❤️

Saying "I love you" for the first time

Lucifer:

You have been dating for months and you are yet to tell him you love him. It doesn't matter as your actions tell him every single day about your devotion. In your defense, he is also too proud to say it out loud. Maybe you two deserve each other after all, Just Say It Already, Damn. Today he could manage to take you out for dinner, ushered you home and made sure you felt good&loved, if you know what I mean. You were laying on your side, your hand holding your head up as he was getting under the blanket to put himself away.

"I love you, Lucifer. Thank you for today, I enjoyed every minute."

"I'm so glad. I love you too, y/n."

Now that it is finally over, he will be sure to remind you every day; he loves you, most ardently.

Mammon:

You were taking a stroll around town with him; you were a little tipsy which made you a little braver than usual. He took you to a place up top, where you could see the entire city from.

-Careful y/n, anything you say here echoes in the city, so keep quiet!

- Nu-uh, stop being so silly, no way it echoes here... see... I LOVE YOU MAMMON!

-What- Shhh- Human what you doing- damnit-

-Want me to do it again?

-....... you kidding me? sure but... this time only I wanna hear it.

Before you had the chance to say it again his lips were already on yours, his arms pulling you really close to him. (It did, in fact, echo on that part.)

Leviathan:

It was time for the annual cuddle break from his game. It took him weeks to get this comfortable with you, he sure did believe you were faking everything to prank him, for days. It took you consistent effort to prove him otherwise; that's why you were careful not to say it too soon. His head was laying on your chest, all was quiet for a second, both of you feeling peace surrounding you for once. Perfect timing.

"I love you." Then there was silence. You felt him squeeze you a bit, as if you could get any closer to him. He mumbled something you couldn't catch.

Satan:

He took you out to a local cat coffee. The date went really well, the cats were playful and the company was perfect. On the way home it started to rain; you might have stayed longer in the coffee than you intended, so of course you got caught. Thankfully he had an umbrella on him; you suspect he was expecting this situation to happen. You scooted very close to him to fit under his only umbrella. He haven't said anything for a couple of minutes when you broke the silence.

"I love you so much."

His steps slowed down a bit, turning himself to look at you.

"And I love you even more." He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead.

Asmodeus:

He had a long day today, he had to buy new clothes; the new season is here and he must keep up with fashion! You were at his room as he was giving you a spontaneous catwalk show in his new clothes. Of course he looked adorable in everything. You were sitting there cheering him on, - Another 10/10, you look so stunning Asmo!

- You think so? Don't you think green would look better on me?

- Oh come on now. You are breathtaking in every color. I love you.

He smiled, a very genuine smile in fact, and didn't hesitate to kiss you then and there.

Beelzebub:

He was strong enough to pull you closer to him as you were just a bit too far, both of you on the couch of the Common Room, watching a comedy. He kept stealing short kisses from you the entire time, needing your touch the most.

"I love you, you know." You could swear you saw his eyes tear up just a little bit.

"I love you too." He made sure you wouldn't see his face for the rest of the movie. Was extra cuddly with you that night.

Belphegor:

Today was awful for you and at this point all you wanted was a nap with your favourite person here. He promised to help you fall asleep; laying behind you he was stroking your hair from the front to the back, slowly and carefully. You were almost asleep when you quietly muttered;

"I love you." You couldn't see his expression but you sure heard a giggle from him.

"I love you too. Now, just relax and fall asleep."

[m-jelly]

Hi Jelly! I haven't sent a request in a while, so I want to fix that now.

So what about Levi and the reader who secretly in love with him?

Levi breaks up with his girlfriend (it was her decision), he is devastated and upset. He comes to his best friend, who supports him. He thinks that he is unlovable, but she confesses her feelings to him.

She convinces him that he deserves love and she loves him. He realizes that his happiness was always next to him. Levi confess that he loves her back. And in the end, they become a couple.

Hi, I'm going to change a few things about this, hope that's okay cause I'm not a huge fan of the reader being used as an emotional blanket by a friend and then that friend "suddenly realising" they want them. I've been through this first hand and it hurt a lot and I'm still healing.

@ladycheesington <3

Time heals all wounds.

Levi x fem! reader

Modern world, becoming a couple, friends to lovers.

Communication is important and you should always be open and honest with those you care for. Levi faces his own emotions and becomes honest which results in you being honest.

The slam of your front door drew your attention. You lived in a cosy house in a nice welcoming town. Since moving to the town for your mental and physical health, you'd become much better. You were happy. The man who walked in through your door was the sheriff and someone you'd fallen in love with, but he had a girlfriend so you stayed a friend.

Levi trudged over to you in your window seat with his brows furrowed and a confused look. "Bea broke up with me."

You stared at him as a rush of emotions went through you. You were happy because you had a shot now, but you were crushed that the man you cared for seemed hurt. "Right. What did she say?"

"She said I've become distant, not fully invested and don't imagine a future with her." He sighed. "That I'm with her out of duty not love and I don't love or care for her."

You winced. "Tad harsh."

He hummed. "I think...she...was right."

You closed your book and sat up. "She was right?" You shifted on the seat and patted the spot next to you. "Sit."

He sat down and leaned his arms on his thighs. "I mean. I didn't look forward to seeing her. I didn't hate seeing her. It was more like..."

"Routine?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I feel awful about it. I don't want to hurt people, but I hurt her."

You nibbled the inside of your lip. "Were you fully invested in the relationship when you started dating?"

He looked up and started to remember a few things. "Ah, well..."

"Levi?"

He looked over at you and felt his cheeks heat up. "When you're in love, how do you feel or react?"

You tilted your head. "Are you questioning if you loved her?"

"Well, I am." He shuffled closer. "How do you know you're in love?"

You pressed your lips together as you thought. "Mm, well...I guess you feel warm inside you. You want to see them all the time. When you're going to see them or they message or call you, you get butterflies and you find yourself smiling a lot. When you're with them you feel comforted by their presence. All you can think about is growing old with them. You want to spend the rest of your life with them. Everything they do or say touches your heart and soul. You adore everything. You want to do everything for them. When you become a couple, you don't stop trying to woo them. You still get them gifts, you still take them on dates and you do everything to make them smile, Plus, holding them or being held by them just brings you inner peace."

Levi stared at you with a cute pinkness on his cheeks. "Mm."

You cleared your throat. "Y-You know Morticia and Gomez and how they are with each other?"

Levi nodded. "Yeah."

"Like that."

He leaned back and tapped the back of his head against your window. "Like that." He echoed your words as he stared at processed things.

You tapped your knuckles against his temple. "You got a lot going on in there."

Levi turned his head and looked deep into your eyes making your heart race. "I do. Your words have unlocked a lot inside me. I need to think a lot through."

You smiled at him. "Well, as always I'm here if you need me."

He grabbed your wrist. "Hey, thanks...I'm trying to...um...can I hug you?"

You stared a moment before nodding. "Yeah, sure thing." You wrapped your arms around him. "You sure to like my hugs, huh?"

He squeezed you. "You have a talent for it."

You pulled back and smiled. "Pizza and movies?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Can we cook together? I like cooking with you."

"Sure!" You walked to the kitchen with him following behind. "We'll make pizza. I need your expert skills in dough making. So get those muscles wor-." You flinched when Levi hugged you from behind. "Levi?"

He tapped his forehead against your shoulder. "Sorry. Just...just for a moment."

"Okay..." You assumed it was because he was upset. You had no idea what the real reason was for holding you. Levi had realised a lot.

It'd been two months after Levi and Bea had broken up. Levi was doing fantastic and seemed happier. He was spending every waking moment with you or his friends. Bea was the opposite, she was happy at first but seeing Levi doing great she was getting unhappier.

The feelings you had for Levi were screaming at you to tell him. Levi was a lot more affectionate with you. He'd bring you gifts, flowers, food and drink as well as arrange days with you. Your heart kept telling you he was interested in you and to confess, but you were filled with so much self-doubt and worried that being with him would tank his reputation so soon after his last relationship.

You were sat in your bookstore filled with your usual customers and new ones enjoying drinks as they read in your cosy corner. While at your desk you had a piece of paper and a pen with you. You decided to put your feelings down on paper, but it was hard.

After thinking for a while you decided to start writing and it just flowed out of you. You explained how you believed Levi deserved the deepest and most pure love in the world. You said that he deserved so much in this life and he should charge for it. Near the end, you talked about how you've always loved him and cared so deeply for him. You wished him all the best and you'd understand if he wanted to stop being friends because you loved him.

A customer calling for you brought you out of your focus. You slipped away from your desk and walked over to them. Smiling brightly as you assisted them with getting the books they wanted and felt excited when they asked you for recommendations. You walked back with the gentleman to your desk to see Levi was standing there and your letter was gone.

Levi was glaring at the man with you who'd been making you smile and laugh. "Find everything you need?"

The man smiled. "I did. She's a peach and so helpful." He winked at you. "Thank you."

You smiled softly. "You're welcome. Check through them and if you're happy, I'll check you out."

"I hope you do 'cause I'm checking you out." He laughed. "I'm jesting...shit bad flirt...uh...I'll be back in a bit."

You waved to him as you hummed a laugh. "Sure." You walked over to your desk and sat. "Hey, Levi." You look around your desk. "Uh..."

Levi huffed. "I don't like that man."

"Ah, he's okay." You looked up. "Levi? Was there a letter on my desk when you arrived?"

He lifted the letter up as he continued to stare at the man. "You mean this one?"

You went pale as you gulped hard. "Did...did you read it?"

"Yes." He looked over at you and leaned on the desk. "I've been thinking hard since you told me what love is. I know without a doubt what love is now and who I actually love." He reached over and grabbed your hand and ran his lips over your fingers. "Knowing that the woman I love loves me back makes me incredibly happy. I came here today to ask you on a date." He kissed your fingers. "Your letter made me happier than words could describe. When I saw you I felt a rush of emotions and for the first time I finally understood this dark feeling I have been feeling often around you." He locked eyes with you as his look became arousingly dark. "I was a little jealous of you being with that man."

You gulped hard. "H-He was just b-being nice."

Levi released your hand and walked around to your side of the desk. It was cute how you backed up against the wall. He cupped your cheek and tilted his head. "I want you to be mine and only mine. I want to grow old with you." He said your name. "I love you."

Before you could speak his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. The two of you clung to each other, bodies pressed as you explored your love and the deep desires you had held onto for so long. The world around you both just vanished and you forgot all about where you were.

A clearing of a throat made Levi release your lips and look over to the noise while you hid your face against his chest. Levi stared at the man who had flirted with you. "Yes?"

The man strained a smile. "I want to buy these books."

Levi hummed and released you. "I'll do it."

"I was hoping-."

"She's busy." He scanned the books. "I'll do it."

He leaned a bit. "But I can see her right-."

"She's. Busy." He paused and stared at the man before continuing the transaction. He watched the man leave before turning to you. "Now, where was I? Oh yes." He cupped your face making you giggle. "You were going to tell me you love me too, right?"

You nodded shyly. "Yes. I love you too."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity

@nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08

@levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife

@demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid

[literaila]

winter blues 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"why are you here?"

"why are you ignoring my calls?"

warnings: seasonal depression (unmentioned but that’s what it is), comfort, avoidance, fluff, peter is nice (mostly) 

a/n: this is so random and so terrible but my computer doesn’t deserve to have this banished away. happy winter!!!! 

*

if you're in a mood--which you're not--then it is perfectly rational. 

and if you've been hanging up the phone, slamming doors, and throwing random objects around your room for the past couple of days--all done as some sort of ritual, of course, a method of which to maintain control--then it's fine. 

your room is a mess and there are more worthwhile, productive things to be done. 

which is probably why you aren't speaking to anyone. 

or, rather, effectively ignoring anyone who even attempts to get a word out toward you. 

when someone knocks on the door you duck under the covers, sure that your presence can't be detected with an extra layer of cotton protecting your body heat. 

when someone texts you, you simply pretend that your phone has died--despite the fifty apps you've got open and the lonely google tab, awaiting curiosity that escaped you weeks ago. 

when you go outside it's with your eyes tilted toward the ground, staring at cement like it's a newfound fascination. 

so, maybe you've fallen victim to the winter blues. maybe you've been consistently listening to one playlist entitled "don't listen to this, you loser," and not really listening at all. 

maybe you've been avoiding this actualization--being that you'd prefer to live in your own disgust rather than face it, thank you very much. 

and maybe, as you consider these missteps, you've got your face smothered into a pillow. 

you do not consider how long it might take you to fall asleep. 

*

there's a knock on your door. 

it is sullen and soft and all too loud for this time of day. four in the afternoon is made for napping, and you have made yourself into someone who no longer answers the door. 

you roll over on the couch, waiting for evading footsteps. 

you are met with only kind silence. 

and then a voice: 

"i know you're in there," he says. "and i know that you can hear me." 

peter knows nothing. 

you have made a point of that. 

you throw your head back, imitating a groan, and wonder how many minutes you'll have to sit through this before he gives up. 

you ridicule yourself as soon as the thought comes; when has peter ever given up on anything? 

"i'm not leaving," he echoes. "i'll knock on mrs. garrison's door and ask for a folding chair." 

you have been avoiding him for the past week. you have been thinking that if he sees you--even just once--he’ll know that something is wrong. that he’ll ask and you’ll have to tell. that he’ll bring up the one thing you’re trying to avoid. 

two things, you guess. 

and because you are sure that peter will make good on his threat, and also because you feel a pin-prick of guilt, you get up off of the couch. you curse your raggedy bones. 

try and recall when you last stood and how long you'll be able to stay standing. 

you go to the door, opening it with a glare. 

"peter," you say, dryly. your voice is rotted with its misuse. 

he simply smiles. "can i come in?" 

"why are you here?" 

"why are you ignoring my calls?" peter challenges, ducking under your arm to walk into your apartment without invitation. 

you try not to wince at everything he might stumble upon. 

like candy wrappers and water bottles and papers that you've crumbled until they're illegible, and others that you've folded into paper airplanes. 

socks and sweaters you've thrown around. a blanket that has served as both a preserver of heat and a tissue. 

dishes everywhere because, coincidently, you've recently forgotten how to use your dishwasher. 

"woah," peter blows out a breath. he turns back to you with raised eyebrows, smile somewhat fallen. 

you frown even deeper and cross your arms. "i'm not ignoring your calls. my phone died." 

peter stares at you. he leans over to grab your phone off of the couch--you'd forgotten it was there--and presses the power button. 

you both watch as it comes to life. it scolds you with notifications. 

"my ringer is off." 

peter just sighs and tosses it back in its forever place. "what's going on?" he asks, softer now, like his knock. 

you stare at his face and wonder again why he's here. why you even bothered answering the door. 

and then his brown lulls you into the earth, where you have no inhibitors. 

you rub a hand over your eyes. "it's just been a long week," you say because at least it's not a lie. 

"did something happen?" 

you shake your head. 

"are you feeling alright?" 

you nod. 

when you look up peter is closer. he is offering you something kind with his face. 

you want to wipe it off and slam the door in his face. 

"hey," he says, whispering to only you. "i missed you. i wanted to make sure you were okay." 

"well, thanks for checking in," you reply, grabbing his arm so you can pull him toward the door. 

peter laughs. "not so fast." he stops both of you with a foot on the floor. 

you scowl at him. 

"it's been a week since i've seen you," peter chides, like you're a child who's forgotten. "i'd like to have an actual conversation." 

you shake his hand off of you. "we're having a conversation." 

"you haven't even asked me about my week." 

you sigh. "okay." you pause for a moment, waiting for him to break. "how was your week, peter?" 

"long," he answers, quickly. "thanks for asking." 

you let a chuckle fall from dry lips. 

he takes another step closer. 

you're used to peter's hands on you--because they almost always are, especially when it's this cold outside and he likes to use you as an excuse--but it feels like more than just touching now. 

when he tilts your chin up with his hands, observing your eyes, you swear that he's actually probing you. 

that if he's the scientist, you are the lab rat being subdued to whatever experiment he's working on. 

"you look tired," he whispers, fingers tracing over sinkhole under eyes. 

"i am." 

peter bites his lip, eyes searching. "are you having trouble sleeping?" 

you can barely shake your head in his hands, but you attempt to anyway. 

peter swallows. "are you sick?" 

"no, peter. i'm okay."

he tilts his head. "you're tired. when was the last time you ate?" he asks. "or took a shower?" 

"i ate this morning." 

peter stares at you. he pokes your side with his iris'. 

"...i think." 

"baby," peter throws his head back. he plays it off as teasing, but you know that he's serious. "you can't just--" 

"i've been sleeping all day," you excuse. "i was gonna eat right before you came over." 

peter gives you another blank stare. 

you sigh at him, refusing to lie any further. 

at least he's fun to look at, you think. at least you're not completely irritated with him. 

"can i make you something instead?" peter asks, playing along. "you can go lay down and i'll bring it to you." 

your brows furrow. "you didn't come over to take care of me." 

"i did, actually. and to make sure that aliens hadn't gotten to you." 

"it's okay. you should tell me about your week," you attempt to put on a smile. "i'll listen real hard." 

"i will," peter promises. "but i want to make sure that you're okay first. you look..." peter shrugs. 

"terrible?" 

he laughs, just a little. brushes some hair from your eyes. "beautiful, obviously. just sad." 

your eyes close involuntarily. something in your chest comes back to life, unwanted and unwarranted. 

you should be able to handle peter saying nice things without wanting to cry. 

and you should be answering your phone and the door without any sort of hesitation. 

peter shakes his head like he can tell what you're thinking. "don't think so hard," he says. "what do you have in the fridge?" 

he gives you another smile. one that is so desperate and pleasing that you almost flinch. 

peter has molded under your darkened fingertips. 

he is shifting, just for you. and despite whatever denial you might feel, you're aware that you've been keeping him at a distance to avoid just that. 

he grabs your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen. he knows his way around. "let's go look. but you have to have more than a carton of ice cream because last time--" 

"peter," you whisper, pulling his hand back. 

he pauses. looks down at you. "hmm?" 

"will you--" you swallow. let the guilt fill your mouth. "will you--can you hug me? for just a little bit? i don't, um, i don't--" 

peter is quick to stop you. 

to wrap his strong arms around your back, cradling your head right against his shoulder. he lets you nuzzle into his neck, lets you grab onto his shoulders, and play with the hair on the base of his neck. 

he wraps you in comfort and warmth. 

like a present, he's wrapped you with care. he tells you that you can open it and look whenever you're ready. he whispers little things in your ear, about the things you've missed. 

he's gifted you this much. 

he loves you, he promises. 

and if you'll open the door for anyone, it's peter. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom

[cokoweee]

So I wrote it. And it came out a lot longer than I thought it would be. So here’s the first part.

There was a gentle lilt of music echoing through the halls. Which was odd considering he could have sworn his was off, and no one ever played music loud enough for others to hear it. He made no move to find the source, instead finding a strange tranquility in the song that was playing. It was too muffled for him to pick out the words, but the melody was comforting. Something he would have put on one of his own playlists. The tune drifted around him blanketing him in a strange melodic peace. There was a pause in his bliss as he slowly began to realize that his mind was bathed in sweet blessed silence. He froze, too scared to move-a pathetic fear of alerting the voices that he wasn’t currently drowning in self hatred griping his chest. He simply laid there and let the sound wash over him.

~

She was going to murder someone if she messed the stupid lip stain up again. Her reflection stared blankly at her, a red smudge just below her lower lip practically mocking her as she moved to grab the makeup remover. She scrubbed her lips raw with the remover softly swearing under her breath. The stain was still there. Maybe not as noticeable, but still there. It was meant to be a relaxing self care night, but she couldn’t seem to get anything to go right. Ugh. Whatever it wasn’t like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

She grabbed her phone and switched the current playlist (which was bathing the room in the sweet melody of Hozier) one of her favorite artists, to white girl music. Ah yes. Just the way to set the mood.

Reaching under the counter she had recently claimed as hers she grabbed a face mask. ( It wasn’t like Othello was going to use it. He was physically incapable of basic hygiene) Climbing on top of the counter to sit inches away from the mirror she carefully applied the mask. Rihanna blared in the background as she stared for just moment at her reflection, dark eye bags and dull hair, she sighed and grabbed her hair mask and under eye patches as well. At this point she just needed a fresh start.

She ran her fingers across her scalp working the mask through her hair, which she needed to touch up soon, and tied it into a simple bun on the top of her head. Just as she was reaching for her eye patches, a shadow caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

~

She was… sitting on his bathroom counter covered in something green. She stared at him, he stared back.

Say something! It’s rude to stare! STOP STARING AND SAY SOMETHING YOU IDOT! She’s going to think you’re crazy.

“Turn that off” he grumbled nodding his head toward her speaker.

Great going! Perfect thing to say! Wow that’ll make her feel awesome Don bon!

She made no move to change her playlist, instead quirking an eyebrow up,

“No.” She spat. “I’m having a moment. To myself. Right now. Which you are ruining.” She gestured angrily. “Leave before I get Cas to beat you up or something”

“Why” he said stupidly

“Everyone deserves to have a little moment to themselves” she mumbled shrugging.

Not everyone. Not you. Spa days are to spend with your lovely lovely twin. Who is gone.

He really didn’t need to be reminded. Donatello didn’t deserve to enjoy something that was meant to be shared with his twin. How could he enjoy pampering himself without his twin there making snarky remarks and gossiping about his latest adventure with some new yoki boy ?

And he was still just sitting there staring at her. Great.

Do something! Go back to your room and drink enough to forget this interaction even happened! LEAVE.

She was still staring at him, clearly determined to beat what she thought was a battle of wits, before deflating a bit and motioning to the floor beneath her. He dumbly sank down on the floor facing her, his body moving in autopilot. She grabbed one of her hair ties and tied his hair into a neat little bun on the top of his head before grabbing a bottle of… something. His eyes warily followed her actions.

She looked down from her perch atop the counter and tilted his chin up slightly, holding it there as she slathered something cold onto his face.

Pretty. Soft hands. Feels nice.

Getting pampered without me?

He pulled away. Nope. He couldn’t do it.

She frowned

“What? Too worried about your bad boy reputation to let me put a face mask on?”

He jerked his head no. But the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“You don’t need to do this.” He mumbles, actively avoiding her gaze.

She sucked in a quick angry breath before grabbing his face forcing him to look at her.

“You literally let me live in your house for free, the least I can do is spare some of my self care stuff.” she scoffed.

Ok yeah sure, that was true, but all he did was sit and drink. Or listen to music. Or stare into nothing. He had nowhere to go, no one to see, and no reason to indulge himself in self care. Why should he be able to care about himself while he could no longer care for his brothers and his brothers could no longer care for him? He couldn’t bring himself to find joy in something they too had loved. It was easier to condemn himself to a life of suffering and misery, so he could somehow equal himself to his family. They were buried under dirt, while he was lucky enough to only be buried in guilt.

He started to pick himself up off the floor but was quickly pushed back down.

“Nuh uh. You’re not going anywhere.”

She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to sit again, taking his face a little more roughly this time, and slathering the mask around his face, taking extra care around his eyes, before removing his bun and replacing it with some clips she had materialized from who knows where, and turning him toward the wall, running her hands through his hair. She gently pulled some of the larger tangles apart with her hands as he stayed still, allowing her to work. He worked on not grabbing her hand off of his head every time she tugged a little too hard and slammed his whole head against the counter. He really doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Especially considering the full force of his entire family fighting for attention from him, their voices echoing against his skull.

“Stay here “she threatened, suddenly jumping off the counter and running out of the bathroom to grab something else he didn’t really didn’t deserve. She had barely made it into the hall before she shoved an unlocked phone into his hands, open to her personal playlists.

“You can choose whatever”

End of part one. idk how many parts there are I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Ok I’m gonna go touch grass now.

THEY LET ME POST IT AAAUURTGGGG

this’ll be linked in the master posts I hope u know

Part 2

[thelampisaflashlight]

Movie Night

[Rain and Dew watch a movie.] Below the cut.

"Your feet will never find firm footing; You tread upon the blood of those you have slain, and forevermore your steps shall echo as water, red as the holiest of wine, and in your wake, Hell's fire shall burn so you might only move forward... Onwards and on until the end of days." the vampire hunter in the movie declares, earning a snort from Dew, who snuggles down closer to Rain.

"This is the good part." he whispers, and Rain feels a gentle smile tug at his lips, "The lighting, the drama of the vampire's silhouette in the dark... Fucking beautiful."

"The acting leaves something to be desired." Rain comments, and Dew snorts, "The fake English accent, eugh..."

"It's art, Rainy, poorly dubbed over art, but art nonetheless."

"You," the water ghoul huffs, "and I have very different ideas of what art is."

"You just don't have taste." Dew counters, shifting so that his head is laying in Rain's lap, a hand coming to rest on his thigh as he settles, "You're the one who wanted to watch a vampire movie."

"I was really thinking Dracula, Interview With The Vampire... Something more traditional." Rain hums, reaching down to drag his fingers through Dew's wayward curls, rolling one of the fiery spirals between his forefinger and thumb, watching how the light of the tv highlights the subtle white streaks blended almost seamlessly with the rest, "Twilight-"

Dew gives an offended gasp that turns into a dull purr as Rain scratches along his scalp, "Twilight he says... Maybe as background noise..."

"Familiar background noise," Rain says, circling his fingers, "since you seem to remember those movies better than I do."

"Know thy enemy..." Dew groans as Rain's hand strays, "I had to pick it apart in order to tell people precisely why I hated it."

"You certainly did not," Rain teases, "you just wanted an excuse to talk about how Bella deserved better."

Dew opens his mouth to speak, but is caught off guard by Rain's gentle caress, "...You're playing a dangerous game, Raincloud."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart, I'm not the one in danger here..." He chuckles, playing with the collar of Dew's shirt, "Come now, watch your movie."

"Rain-"

"Shhh... No more words, just nod or shake your head." he says, grabbing Dew by the chin, "Do you want me?"

Dew sits up languidly, palms sinking into the faux leather couch cushions as he moves to crawl onto Rain's lap, nodding.

There's a brief awkwardness -as there always seems to be- as they shuffle about trying to get into the proper position; Rain gets Dew speared on his cock with minimal prep, lets him hiss at the burn, but is kind enough to pull a blanket over them, wrapping his arms around his waist, holding him in a way that doesn't betray what they're doing.

It just looks like they're cuddling like normal, but even in the dark, Rain can see the blossoming of red across Dew's cheeks, and the pin pricks of sweat beginning to form on the back of his neck, which he delights in licking away, earning him a yelp.

"Shhh, eyes forward, watch the movie."

And just like that, Dew's transfixed.

Rain hums, content to be warmed by the ghoul in his lap, but he's waiting.

Watching.

The telltale glint of fangs in moonlight, an unsuspecting victim; In the film, it's some busty blonde who makes minimal effort to run away in her cheap, ankle breaker heels.

Briefly distracted, Rain can't help but comment on the shoes.

"She should have worn better shoes."

"She wasn't exactly planning to get chased by a vampire, Rainy." Dew pouts, voice a bit strained as he tries to look back at the other, "Like you could run in heels."

"I could." Rain says, "I have."

"I'd like to see you tr-" Dew squeaks as Rain moves his hips slightly, "-Cheater."

"I didn't know we were playing a game." Rain says, pulling Dew back against his chest, "Now shush."

"Rain..."

Rain says nothing in return, casually slipping his hands beneath the blanket.

For a time, the only sound that can be heard besides the dull drone of the lead actor's monologue is the gentle movement of skin against skin... slow and steady.

It's easy, Rain finds, to get lost in it.

The sensation of Dew's body clenching around his cock and...

"You can see someone's travel mug in the background..." Dew says suddenly, gesturing at the screen, "Right there."

Rain blinks, propping his chin on Dew's shoulder, narrowing his eyes, "Shit, you can."

"Bleh, bleh, I vant a venti mocha latte..." Dew snickers and Rain gives a laugh, "...So, you gonna move or what?"

Rain clicks his tongue, thinking, "Mn... Tempting offer, but our movie is over."

Dew pats the couch beside them, searching for the remote.

"Twilight?"

"Twilight."