#you think you know what a room would look like & then you draw it and are like. fuck. what the hell. how does interior design work again

[angelfic]

JASON TODD is constantly in pain.

ever since he came back from the pit, he’s felt like a stranger in his own skin, metaphorically and literally. in a body he was suddenly forced to awake in, the ache in his bones is always there, simmering beneath the surface and pressing into his muscles with every movement.

he never talks about it, but you can see it in the way he rolls his shoulders too often, like he’s trying to work out a knot that won’t go away. you see it in the way his jaw clenches when he’s been sitting for too long in the same position, or how he winces whenever he moves a little too quickly.

at first, you thought it’s was just his mannerisms to be all surly and intense all the time. it isn’t until you catch a flash of pain flickering across his face in the middle of a conversation in which he’s happily talking to you.

after that, it’s all you notice and the only thing you want to do is relieve him of his pain.

tonight is no different, when jason comes home late from patrol and his muscles are stiff and practically seizing. blood stains his knuckles from a particularly nasty run-in with gotham’s lowlifes, but jason doesn’t bother removing his gloves or his boots as he collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

you’re there, as always, waiting for him. you crouch down beside him, reaching out to stroke his hair and he nearly forgets he’s in pain for a split second. the minute he shifts to look at you however, his neck feels like someone’s taken a crowbar to him all over again and he can’t stop his face from twisting into a grimace.

“rough night?” you murmur, chin resting on your arms against the edge of the couch. your voice, soft and warm, cuts through the fog of exhaustion clouding over him.

jason hums in answer, too tired to pretend with you. you hesitate for a moment before standing up and holding out a hand for him to take.

“come on,” you say, tone allowing no room for argument. jason knows better than to protest and he’s already achy, so what’s a couple more steps?

you lead him to the bedroom and he kicks off his boots before entering. you sit him down on the edge of the bed and silently begin to peel off his suit until he’s in nothing but his boxers, as still as a statue depicting a greek god in all his glory. jason knows you better than to assume you’re trying to initiate anything sexual, your expression full of love and care, mixed with almost clinical intentions.

“will you lay on your stomach for me, jay?” you ask, softly. jason would hang the stars in the sky for you if you asked him, but he settles for nodding and climbing onto the bed obediently to lay where you want him.

he feels the bed dipping under your weight as you climb over him to straddle the back of his thighs and he opens his mouth to ask what you’re actually doing. but then your hands are on him and your thumbs are pressing into knots he didn’t even know he had and the question dies on his lips.

jason makes a little sound in his throat as your fingers work on his shoulders, kneading the taught muscles along his spine and neck and drawing out a deep grown from his lips.

despite the years of discomfort, jason begins to melt under your hands embarrassingly fast, huffing out a breath somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“fuck,” jason mutters, his voice coming out in a low, gravelly rumble and anyone would think you were doing sinful things to him with the noises coming out of him.

“feel good?” you ask, quietly and jason can hear the smile in your voice as your hands continue to relentlessly chase the aching out of his bones.

“yeah,” he practically whimpers, shuddering out a breath as you work on his lower back, one hand continuing to twist as the other reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes. he didn’t even notice it since he let them flutter shut the second you touched him.

jason feels himself sinking into the mattress, unravelling from within and when he shifts from his position slightly, it isn’t nearly as painful as it was before.

“your hands are fucking magical, angel,” jason breathes out, voice muffled from where his face is pressed into his arms.

you let out a laugh and that, combined with the way the soft pads of your thumbs run against the hard, scarred skin of his back, makes him think he’s died all over again. yet this time, he’s made it to heaven. “nah,” you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss against his spine. “just love you, is all.”

a/n; sorry idk what came over me writing this. the idea came to me in the form of my own aching muscles. i’m not a vigilante i’m just a brown girl deficient in every vitamin under the sun

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p5

masterpost please no crit or editing, I know there are mistakes. this migraine is on day 7 and killing me <3

Danny swiped his finger over one of the hanging crystals in the waiting room window of Marvelous Mina’s Spiritual Nexus: or, in other words, the old, tiny, craftsman building that was crammed between two mid rises that Wilhelmina Aleshire had inherited from her grandmother several years ago.

There wasn’t any sort of spiritual nexus in the place. Mina was actually completely inept at conversing with the dead (Danny excluded). What Mina was unusually skilled at lay in the realm of psychic readings, specifically those involving divination such as tarot and oracle cards. She was also quite good at reading living people.

(Danny might have been a little jealous of that.)

Danny had first stumbled upon Mina and her ‘nexus’ when they were both dealing with the same ghost: him from the spirit itself and her from the bereaved widower of the man. Working together had wrapped things up quite quickly. It had also actually been enjoyable.

Mina was weird, energetic, and curious. It was an overwhelming combination at times, but other times it was just perfect. It was especially welcome when Danny got into a slump of some sort, usually between jobs or partners or when he wanted to kill and then end an annoying new roommate.

Not that he would ever do that.

(But Brad came damn close.)

A crying woman came dashing out through the curtain that separated the foyer waiting room from the sitting room that Mina used for her readings. She wiped dramatically at her eyes as she got to the door, heaved a massive sigh, tossed her hair back, and headed back out into the world.

“Wow. What did you tell her?” Danny asked, not even turning to look at Mina yet, though he knew she would be standing at the open curtain on the edge between the two spaces where old, cracked black and white tiles met darkly stained hardwood painted with hena style flowers.

“Oh, you know, the usual thing people hate to hear; it won’t work out between her and her current boyfriend,” Mina said. She dropped into the seat next to Danny, and he finally turned to look at her. Her mass of dark blond hair was piled up on top of her head in a sort of gibson girl bun that looked effortlessly, messily stylish. Mina was good at that—being effortlessly stylish in a disheveled sort of way. She brushed back her bangs and continued. “He’s actually already being set to be engaged by his family to ‘someone proper’, which he’ll give into for the inheritance—which is all she was after anyways. She’ll get over it.”

“Something something fish in the sea,” Danny said. He reached out and plucked a petal from Mina’s hair. It was from a bright orange zinnia. Mina’s favorite.

Mina hummed. “And how is your fishing going, Mr. Fenton?”

“Currently in an absolute drought, no where to fish around here.”

“Danny, you live in San Francisco. A bi man such as yourself is not allowed to say there is no fish around.”

Danny scowled, ���No fish that don’t want to eat me and spit me out.”

“I mean…”

“Not like that!” Danny explained, a quick blush rising on in his cheeks. “I meant like, viciously.”

“I mean…” Mina repeated with a lascivious smirk.

“I regret coming to you for help.”

“No,” Mina whined, drawing out the word. “What help? Do you have a new ghost problem? What sort of help do you need? Danny, let me help!”

Danny managed to glare at her, but only for a few moments before he relented with an over wrought sigh. “Fine, you can help. Can we go talk now or do you have another appointment?”

“Not until four,” she said. She took Danny’s hand and practically dragged him through the door to the right and into the private section of the once stately home. “Which tea do you want?”

“Dealer's choice. Whatever tea you think is best for a weird talk about a weird ghost,” Danny said. He had his favorites of Mina's diverse tea selection, sure, but she had a way of always choosing the best blend foe the day if he left the choice to her.

She narrowed her eyes as she studied Danny in a way that always made the back of his neck itch. He put up with it dutifully, but relaxed noticeably when she nodded and continued them on to the kitchen.

The room was painted a warm, coral orange. The color should have clashed with the the pale blue cabinets and pale butcher top counters, but instead it just worked. It was very Mina.

Danny sat at the table and idly scratched Hubris on the head.

Hubris was Mina’s ancient grey cat. He had one single golden eye left and used it to glare pitifully at whoever was near until the pet him. He also purred like a wood chipper.

“So give me the deets,” Mina demanded once she had set down the two cups of tea.

Danny sighed and took a sip of his tea. “They’re different. It’s not like they’re made of smoke or mist, it’s like they’re full of static. And they don’t look dead either. I actually—I finally got a got a good look at them this last episode.”

“I don’t like the way you say ‘episode’,” Mina said. Her eyes narrowed over the top of her tea cup.

“You shouldn't,” Danny said with a frown as pulled out the sketch and unfolded it. “They’re seizures, I think? Not like I’ve gone to a doctor about them. I don’t think ‘the ghost person touches me and the world goes technicolor kaleidoscope’ would go over well with a medical professional.”

Hubris opened his one eye with a snort as Mina’s cup clanged down onto her saucer.

“Seizures?! Danny! What the f! You can’t just mess around with seizures.”

“You can say fuck, Mina, we’re both adults,” Danny said dryly.

She leaned forward. “I will throw my tea at you, Danny, unless you explain.”

“But I can’t exactly. They’re not a regular ghost, and I’ve never had anything like this happen before. Mina, look. They look alive.” He turned the drawing around to face her and slid it her way. “I drew this after the episode yesterday. I saw them so clearly. Their eyes had a spark, their skin was healthy skin with a flush and everything, and I even think they breathed. I don’t… Mina, I’m worried that they’re not a ghost.”

Mina picked up the sketch carefully. Her brows were furrowed. “But if they’re not a ghost, why are they contacting you?”

Danny shook his head. “No, if they’re not a ghost, how are they contacting me. And why am I their only option?”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much. But that’s why I’m here. I want to try things a different way. I want you to try and read for them, Mina.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

LITTLE NERDY VALENTINE

A/N: one day late, but here's a bit of valentine's day cuteness with fratry bc i've been thinking a lot about him lately

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

SUMMARY: Harry wants to celebrate Valentine's Day, but you're not a fan of his plans of going out and you have your reasons for that, but talking about them is not easy, so it causes some frustration.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“So, what do you want to do on Friday?” 

Harry is lying on your bed with a textbook lying open over his chest, but he hasn’t read a single word of it in the last hour, he’s been too busy playing on his phone while you were sitting at your desk, working on a paper that’s due next week. He came over to study, but you both knew you’d be doing all the studying, you actually have no idea how Harry has good grades. 

“Friday? What’s on Friday?” you hum, still typing away on your computer, pretending to be oblivious.

“You know…” He draws out the words, sitting up so his back is against the wall. He puts the textbook aside, closing it, done pretending he is actually reading any of it. 

“Hm?” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel Harry’s burning eyes on your back. 

“Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day,” he chuckles, giving up the game. “We are having a Cupid’s Party at the frat house, but if you want to go out, maybe have dinner or something I’m down.”

“Uh, I don’t know…” 

“Or we can go to the movies, I’m willing to watch that new romcom with you, if you want.”

“Harry…” Sighing you give up and finally turn with your chair to look at him, but you wish you didn’t because he is giving you those puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist and he is hugging your pink fluffy pillow like a little kid. 

“Y/N?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out.”

You catch the tiny wince that twitches his lips, but he recovers quickly. You were really hoping you could avoid this conversation today, though part of you knew it would come up, since it’s Wednesday, only 2 days until Valentine’s Day. 

His eyes jump down at the pillow as he starts fumbling with it, like a hurt kid who just got told no. 

“Harry…”

“Are we ever gonna leave this room and act like a real couple?” 

“Don’t start this again, please…”

“I just understand, Y/N,” he groans as he looks up at you again. “We’ve been together for over two months and I haven’t even held your hand in public.”

“That’s not true, you held my hand when–”

“When we were hiking in the middle of the woods so no one could see us. Yeah, you’re right,” he scoffs. 

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, looking down at your lap as the guilt bubbles in your gut. 

“Actually, we haven’t. You just keep telling me you need more time, but never really explain why or what bothers you. I’m trying to be patient, but I really want to take our relationship out of this tiny dorm room.” He gestures around your room where you spend the majority of your time together with him. 

Chewing on your bottom lip you just keep picking on your chipped nail polish, not looking at him, but then he climbs to the edge of the bed so he is sitting right in front of you. He lifts your chin gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I’m more than happy to wait for you, but I need to know a bit more.” He places a hand to your thigh, reassuringly rubbing it as he waits for you to say something. 

“I’m just… I don’t know, I like that it’s just the two of us.”

“Bullshit. It would still be just us.”

Ugh, you hate how well he knows you, you can’t lie to him, but you’re not willing to tell him the truth either. 

“Can we just not talk about this right now? I really need to finish this pa–”

“Y/N, stop avoiding this, please. You know you can tell me anything.”

He is looking at you, waiting and expecting, but you just can’t give him what he wants. His gaze keeps flickering between your eyes, hoping you’d finally open up, but you keep your mouth shut. And then he loses his patience.

“Alright then,” he whispers, jumping up to gather his things, showing everything into his backpack.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him tug the zipper angrily before swinging the bag over one shoulder. 

“I can’t do this, Y/N. I don’t want to hide and not even know why. You wouldn’t tell me what bothers you, so I have to draw my own conclusions and want to know what all of this seems like to me? Like you don’t want to be seen with me, like you’re ashamed of being with me.”

“Harry, that’s not true,” you protest, standing from your chair. 

“Then what is it?”

You open your mouth, but your voice dies in your throat. Unfortunately, Harry takes that as your answer. 

“Okay. Call me when you’re willing to talk.”

And with that, he is out of the room. 

A couples’ party might not have been the best place to be today for Harry, but the thought of easing his mind with a few rounds of beerpong was good enough to make him leave his room and join the party. 

Cupid’s Party usually has two groups of people: the happy couples, attached by the hip, eating each other’s face off and the single people getting wasted, hoping to at least hook up with someone. Currently Harry doesn’t feel like he belongs to any of these groups.

He assesses the living room over the rim of his red solo cup and tries his best to ignore the pain in his chest at the sight of all the happy couples in matching outfits, celebrating their love. In the beginning of the week he was still hoping he and you might be one of them, but things didn’t turn out to be the way he planned. 

After the fight in your room you texted him, asking him to come back, but he made it clear he wouldn’t be doing that unless you’re willing to talk.

Which you werent, so it’s been radio silence since then. 

He had to stop himself from texting or calling you like a million times, it’s been quite the fight since Wednesday, he’s been missing you like crazy, but he is also determined to finally move forward. 

“You alright man?” Niall pats him on the back with a cup in his own hand that smells so much of alcohol that Harry can’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose. While he likes to have drinks, he is often surprised how some of his friends in the house haven’t died of alcohol poisoning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he nods with a sigh. 

“Uhuh, that’s why you’ve been moping around for days, right?” Niall laughs.

“I have not–”

“I have not been moping, you arse!” Niall mocks him, which he finds hilarious, but Harry just rolls his eyes and takes a swig from your drink. “Alright, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it, but if you feel like you need a shoulder, you can come to me.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “Thanks, I’ll just get a refill for now,” he says, holding up his cup. Niall nods and they go their separate way.

Harry fights through the crowd towards the kitchen and tries his best not to get stopped by drunk girls that are more than eager to hook up with him tonight. He would love to tell them he is taken, but he can’t. Even despite the fight you had, he still doesn’t want to go against your will and tell everyone that you’re dating. 

The kitchen is a mess, but he quickly finds the tequila and then mixes it with some pineapple juice, then he stops by the pizza and grabs a slice so his stomach wouldn’t be completely empty. Though his original plan was to get drunk, but now he is not feeling that, so this is probably his last drink, since he is starting to feel a bit dizzy. 

Leaning against the counter he is debating if he should just go back to his room and spend the rest of the night playing video games, but then he spots an all too familiar face in the crowd outside in the hallway. 

You look very uncomfortable, navigating between the half drunk people while looking like you’re searching for someone. Harry puts his pizza slice down right away and he just starts moving towards you when he sees a guy bumping into you, making your shoulder hit the wall.

“Ah, sorry sweetheart, you alright?” the guy asks and his hand is already on your arm, leaning way closer than you’d like him to.

“It’s okay Dave, I got her.” Harry pats him on the back in a friendly manner, though inside he is fuming at the way he is looking at you right now, like he is ready to peel you out of your clothes. 

“Harry, hey! I was just–”

“I know, I got her,” Harry repeats, this time with a tougher look at the guy, which he finally notices so he just nods and wanders away. “Are you okay?” he asks, finally looking at you, keeping one hand on your elbow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” you ask and Harry nods right away, moving his hand to the small of your back, guiding you upstairs, towards his room. 

You’ve been to his frat house, you actually met him at a party here, but you’ve never been to his room. If the other boys saw you coming and going from his room it would have been quite obvious there’s something going on between the two of you, so you usually stayed at your dorm room where it was easier for Harry to sneak out without being noticed, that place is too big for anyone to notice him.

The hallway leading to his room is scattered with couples making out by the wall and you try not to stare at the pair that’s practically dry humping each other like they are in a private place. 

Harry unlocks his door with his keycard and then ushers you inside, finally shutting the noises of the party out. You’re curiously looking around the room that’s a lot tidier than you expected. Aside from a few clothes lying in the corner and two unwashed mugs on his night stand, it’s pretty neat. On his desk you notice the book you gifted him a week ago. You pick it up and open it where the bookmark is at around the third of the book and then you realize the bookmark is a polaroid of the two of you. It was taken the first time he slept in your room, your faces are mushed together as you laugh at something. You remember him taking a picture, but you weren’t expecting him to use it as his bookmark, which is such a sweet thing. 

He has been nothing but sweet to you and that just makes your guilt even worse for treating him the way you did. 

When you turn around you find him watching you with his hands in his pockets, just patiently waiting for you to start talking. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like I’m ashamed of you. That was never the case and… yeah, I’m just really sorry.”

Harry nods, but then just keeps looking at you and you know he wants you to continue. So taking a deep breath you force yourself to keep talking before you chicken out. 

“I was actually thinking it was the other way around.”

That confuses him, he frowns but before he could ask anything you just continue.

“We are not really from the same crowd. You’re… You live in a frat house, you play football, people know you around campus while I’m more like just… a face in the crowd. I know it’s such a cliché, but I felt like that if people saw us together they would question why you’d go out with me a-and–Um… I just…”

“And you thought that I would also question why I’m with you?” he finishes what you couldn’t and you just nod, feeling your throat closing up. It’s been such a heavy weight on your chest the past weeks and now that you said it out loud it’s a relief but you’re also worried how Harry will think of you now. 

Then his eyes soften and stepping closer he gathers your hands between his palms, holding them to his chest. 

“Y/N, you realize this is not a movie where there are popular kids and nerds and they never talk?” he asks with a soft chuckle, making you laugh. 

“I know. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s just been haunting me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” you repeat. “Deep down I knew it, but I just couldn’t help it. I thought that I could get rid of it with time, but I couldn’t and I swear I didn’t want to hurt you with all of this, it’s just that I can easily get into these… spirals and it’s so hard to get out of them.”

“I know,” he softly says and leaning closer he kisses your forehead. “I just wish you told me so I could help you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.”

Letting go of your hands he cups your cheeks in his palms as he pulls you in for a kiss while your hands fist the fabric of his shirt at his waist. He is sweet and gentle, his lips reassuring you that he is right here, with you. He rests his forehead against yours, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. 

“By the way, did you just call me a nerd?” you ask, opening your eyes, making Harry laugh with your words.

“Do you not fit the nerdy stereotype of romcoms?” he challenges you with a wide grin on his face.

“Well, I do study a lot and spend every other afternoon in the library.”

“See? You’re my little nerdy Valentine,” he arches an eyebrow and you just roll your eyes at him, but can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. Then slowly, his expression turns more serious. “So what would you like to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a sigh.

“Listen. If you need more time… I’m okay with that. I want you to feel comfortable and if that means that I have to convince you that no one will point fingers at us if they see us together, then that’s what I’ll do.”

You’ve known it from the beginning, but Harry just keeps proving that he is the right person for you and you couldn’t be more thankful for him. 

Leaning in you kiss him shortly. “I want to move forward, I’m just a bit scared.”

“Then you’ll lead us in whatever pace feels comfortable for you, okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again. 

“Do you want to go back down?” he asks, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah, I would like that.”

Walking out of his room he locks the door and the two of you head back down and you notice that he is still keeping his distance from you, not trying to change everything all of a sudden. Returning to the kitchen he makes you a drink and he grabs another slice of pizza when Niall emerges from the crowd. 

“Hey, you’re still here! Thought you’d lock yourself up in your room soon,” he chuckles seeing Harry.

“You thought I’d bail?” Harry grins, leaning against the counter. Niall’s eyes move over to you.

“I think we haven’t met yet. I’m Niall.”

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. You catch a look the two boys exchange and after that, Niall just smiles at Harry knowingly.

“Alright, I’ll be by the beerpong tables if you need me,” he waves before making his way out of the kitchen. 

“You have a bit of sauce there,” you point at Harry’s mouth smiling.

“Hm? Here?” he asks, wiping his lips, but he completely misses the spot, making you laugh. “Where?” he grins.

“Right there…” You raise a hand to help him out, but it stops midway when a thought pops into your mind and before you could talk yourself out of it, you lean in and kiss his lips. 

“Now you’re good,” you smile against his lips. Harry can’t contain his growing grin, because this was the first time you kissed him in front of other people. 

“I think it’s still there.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckle at him.

“Yeah, all over my lips, everywhere.”

“Stop,” you roll your eyes at him laughing. He leans down and kisses you shortly before he continues eating his pizza, trying his best not to comment it when your hand sneaks into free hand, fingers lacing together.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Castlevania: Valentine's Day

---------🏵️----------

Alucard: Orange Blossom - eternal love, good fortune, marriage

Once, when Alucard was a boy, he witnessed his father present his mother with a whole drawing room of flowers to prove his love. It had been beautiful and lush. Flowers from all over the world nestled in it. Some medical for her work. Some just pretty to look at.

Alucard didn’t think he could top that, but he would make every effort to try.

“I cleared this away for you.” He said as he showed you the patch of dirt he had clear cut, tilled, and set up a small fence to keep the animals at bay. “You asked for a place to grow some fruits and vegetables for the villagers. This is your place now.” Your generosity and kindness had been what won Alucard over in his heart. He wanted to show you that your efforts mattered. That they were appreciated. That he would give you the world if only you would ask, and yet you only asked for a simple plot of earth. “And this is to help you get started.”

He produced a small orange sapling to give to you. Even as a young tree of just a few branches, the orange blossoms fragrant in the crisp morning air. “We’ll keep it in the castle for now but come next year it will bear fruit right here. And we will watch it grow together.”

Your smile felt like the first frost had suddenly melted. He looked forward to more smiles in the future. Watching this tree, and their love, grow.

-------🌷----------

Trevor: Pink Tulip - affection, love, tulips; general meaning of forgiveness

“Come oooon. You can’t still be mad at me.” Trevor whined as he followed behind you through the streets.

He knew he had messed up. Not usually one for romance, Trevor still knew that Valentine’s Day was a big one for couples (which was why he was usually two towns over by the time the holiday came around). Not with you, of course. He just genuinely forgot the date as there wasn’t a lot of time to check the calendar when your life was in danger.

“I said I was sorry, but I really didn’t think you would be into….all this.” He waved his hand around to all the fake sappy displays with fake papier-mâché hearts. “Once you’ve had a real heart in your hand, the décor sort of loses it’s effect.”

Trevor sensed he wasn’t getting anywhere with you. Your cold shoulder turning into a full cold back as you refused to turn around. So he realized he would have to fall on his sword and go for the big guns.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said again after side-stepping in front of you to cut off your path. “I’m an idiot. But you knew that when you linked up with me. Still, I will try to be more romantic in the future.” He reached out to pluck a single pink tulip from a stall. Bringing it to his lips to hide his devilish smirk before offering it to you. “Forgive me?”

“Hey! You have to pay for that!”

Trevor sighed and glared at the stall owner. “You are literally ruining this for me my guy.”

----------🌼------------

Richter: Daisies - Innocence, Loyal love

Richter was broke. Broker than usual, to be precise.

The life of a vampire hunter was not one that paid well, if at all, so Richter was used to living frugally. But with times as they were, people starving as they cried out for change, his coffers were even more barren then usual. He only had enough for necessities for the two of you right now, and even that was stretching it.

Usually, it wouldn’t bother Richter so much. He could get by with the minimum. This time of year, however, he wished he had more than 2 livres to rub together so he could get you something for Valentine’s Day.

It was your first one together. That seemed important. Richter might not know a lot about romance, but he at least knew that much. Plus, regardless of the holiday, he wanted you to know how much you meant to him. How much you being in his life kept him fighting and hoping.

Window shopping with his empty coin purse, the young Belmont sighed as he looked at the jewels through the glass. He wished he could get you something like this. Something beautiful. Something nice. His eyes landed on one necklace in the window and he paused. It was a flower necklace. Delicate gold spun to look like leaves with white pearl petals along the neckline in intricate webbing. He suddenly perked up and raced out of the city to the hillside past the gates.

Later that night, he came back to the room at the inn the two of you were sharing and shyly offered you his gift. “It’s not much.” He cautioned. Watching you unwrap the resmoothed paper he had found and finding a flower chain within. “But my mother taught me how to make them when I was a boy. She said there was protection magic in them. I think she just liked them.” Carefully picking up the chain of daisies from your hand, Richter placed them around your neck. Smiling as he watched them rest there. “Beautiful.” Hesitantly, he leaned in to kiss you. Happy when you lean in to kiss him back.

It might not be much, but it was all he had. And Richter would give you all he had for the rest of his days.

[thedanishcatgirl]

"You can't charm me witch!"

"Don´t be silly, we both know you where the one who charmed me. I have missed you so much. This castle just really isn´t the same without you. You must be tired after your long journey, want to retire to our chambers, and get out of that stuffy looking armour?"

Our chambers? What is she talking about?

"Sieze your lies horrid witch, I won´t fall for your schemes!"

"Sweetie, could you please stop that charade? It is not funny I have really missed you. It´s been 6 months since I last saw you and held you in my arms."

6 months. Why does that feel familiar? "Why do you keep acting like I know you, when whatever spell you tried to cast clearly didn't work?"

"Spell? Why would I enchant you, my husband, love of my life, the father of our unborn child? She says, now with tears in her eyes."

Something inside you aches at that, like seeing her this sad makes you hurt.

You are the chosen one! Don´t fall for her lies and crocodile tears. She is just stalling, trying to trick you. Attack now before it´s too late, A voice in the back of your mind says. You raise your sword, but as she draws back in suprise and fear, you notice that her belly is indeed quite round. If she really is pregnant, you can´t kill her. That´s wrong, surely they wouldn´t want to spill the life of an innocent baby.

It´s just an illusion, you must slay her before she calls her guards!

No, something is not right here. You have been trying to ignore your gut telling you it´s wrong, and the growing feeling of familiarity ever since you got near her castle. If it was a spell wouldn´t it require her seeing you? You try to think back to half a year ago, but your memories are muddled.

Focus Chosen One! Fufill your destiny!

The oldest clear memory you have are the royal guards informing you of your destiny, to rid these lands of the terrible witch queen. Why can´t you remember anything before that?

Nothing else matters. You have your duty and your purpose, that is the only thing that matters right now!

Your breaths quicken. Your mind is a mess, and there are too many thoughts and voices in your head, and you don´t understand anything, and suddenly you become aware of hands around you face.

"Oh darling, what have they done to you."

You wish you knew, or at least that your mind would stop hurting. It´s too much, and those hands are so gentle and you´re so scared, and tired, and don´t know what to trust anymore so when you fall into darkness you are full of relief.

You wake up in a giant bed, in a lavishly decorated room. Your head still aches, but not as much, which means you probably aren´t dead, which is suprising, very confusing and slightly annoying. Couldn´t she had let you free when you happily accepted it, instead of toying with you first? Perhaps she wanted to get information out of you first.

Or perhaps she wasn´t the lying one.

"You are awake! She says, stepping into the room with a tray of food. Are you hungry? I made your favoirites." At the concern in your face, she adds in a voice that sounds sligthly wounded. "I promise you it is safe to eat." She tears half of one of the bread rolls and eats it, before putting the tray closer to you. The smell is sweet and divine, and your stomach growls. You slowly reach out for the other half of the one she ate, almost on instinct. You haven´t eaten in a while, and never something that smelled so delicous.

Or have you? You barely remember anything about your life, and isn´t there something familiar about that smell, and this bed, and this woman?

What are you doing? It is obiusly poisened with something she is immune to!

Well if it is, then at least I will be spared any torture, you think as you put it in your mouth. It practicly melts in your mouth, and is so sweet and tastes like like, home and love, like something you can´t describe, and soon there are no more rolls on the tray.

She grins at you, in a way that fills you with warmth. "I´m glad to see you still like them. While you rested, I have searched all my tomes, and I think I have a way to give us some more anwers. If you would permit, I would like to try it."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Your mind has been forcefully tampered with enough. I couldn´t do that to you too, even if it should not do anything, but uncover what you have lost."

She is evil and dangerous, and you can´t trust anything she says!

She is the only one who can grant you answers and you know that. If they where the ones who took it from you they wouldn´t give it back.

No! Don't listen to the voice of her trickery! This is a mistake!

You need those answers, no matter the risk. With resovle in your heart, and tears in your eyes, you answer.

"Do it."

As she places a glowing finger of your forehead, your eyes close automaticly from the force of the veil in your mind being lifted, and all your memories overwhelming you. After an eternity gone in a blink of the eye, you open you eyes again looking tearfully into the eyes of your loving wife.

"Welcome back my love."

You, the chosen one, walk into the evil queen's throne room. The queen was sitting gloomily on her throne. She sees you and lightens up. She rises from her throne and kisses you. "Sweetheart, I am so glad you are back."

[tillysketch]

Songbird in a Cage (Part 3)

Spawn Astarion x Female! Reader Oneshot 18+ (2k)

Part One and Part Two

Content: PiV sex, Oral-female receiving

MDNI - 18+

The early morning sun wakes Astarion gently. He looks around the unfamiliar room, until his eyes land on you sleeping soundly next to him.

You, the one bit of sunshine from his past that still lives and breathes. As you sleep he studies your face, trying to find any scraps of memories in the smile lines and freckles that adorn your cheeks, eyes, and nose. You breathe softly; your quiet calming energy is soothing to Astarion. He traces his finger along the curve of your shoulder, down your arm, and back up again, lazily drawing loops and swirls against your soft skin. The guilt of not being able to recall much about you or your past the two of you shared eats at him. He knows he cares about you, and that he used to love you.

In truth, until he’d seen your face in the jail cell across from him, he’d forgotten about you entirely. The overwhelming rush of seeing you again brought a few memories back to him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to remember everything- what would make you laugh? What was your favorite color? What hopes and plans did you have to bury with his body when he died? 

You take in a deep inhale and his hand retreats as your eyes slide open and the light returns to your gaze. 

“Good morning...�� You mumble, your throat still thick with sleep. 

“Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?” He asks, his voice low, smooth like honey poured over a warm scone. Next to your sleep-sweat slick body and underneath the blanket, he feels almost alive again. His legs twined with yours, you’re the same temperature. 

“Very well. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in a long time.” You smile through a yawn, and Astarion plants a kiss to your forehead. He knows the motions and actions of a lover, but it's the emotional connection of it all that he’s struggling with. He knows he wants you- knows he is elated to be reunited with you. But still, the feeling of being an imposter, a fake, that has settled deep in his bones, and will take time to carve out of himself. Lying here with you helps though. His heart seems to remember you in a way his mind doesn’t.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, as his fingers travel down your arm to finally rest on your hip. 

“A bit... But I don’t want to get up yet. It’s so warm here.” You snuggle closer, squishing your face against his chest. The lingering heat from last night has carried into this glorious morning and has taken root low in your belly. As your body continues to wake, you notice a familiar swelling pressed against your hip. Astarion must be feeling the same way. 

It starts slow, a few light kisses here, a lingering hand there. Then all at once, you’re both moaning into one another’s mouths as hot fiery desire crackles between the two of you. Astarion’s fingers dig into your side before he grasps a handful of your ass and pulls you closer, hoisting your leg up over his own hip. He grinds his hard erection into your pelvis, making you groan. Your bodies find a comfortable rhythm, pressing and rocking against one another,  until its too much. 

Your fingers clumsily tug and pull at his trousers, eager to set him free. Astarion is just as eager, he pulls the edges of your nightgown up, and tries to take the whole thing up and over your head. 

“Damn this thing, there’s too much fabric.” He grumbles when it gets stuck up under your side. You sit up and stand at the side of the bed, shrug it off your shoulders, and down your arms, til it falls into a puddle at your feet, leaving you bare before his starving gaze. 

His eyes instantly turn a shade darker as he rakes over your naked form in front of him. A blush dances across your cheeks, and you lick your lips, your mouth going dry. You’d never felt nervous before sex, and you shouldn’t be, not with Astarion. But, truth be told, it's been a hot minute since you’ve had someone in your bed...

“Look at you... You’re so beautiful.” He whispers. 

His hands reach out for your waist, and he slides off the bed to kneel at your feet. He looks up at you like you’re a goddess standing before him. Lips delicately move across your midriff and your navel. He praises your body like he’s worshipping at an altar, soft whispers like a prayer against your skin. 

“Let me taste you, please.” He pleads, looking up at you, his eyes wide as the moon. You open your mouth to protest, as he almost drank you to oblivion last night. He sees your hesitation and amends his words. 

“Not your blood, my love.” He shakes his head, “Lie down, and keep your legs open for me, please?”

Now how in the hells can you say no to that?

He rises and stands over you now, his face above yours. “Go lie down...” 

You feel frozen to the spot, but his gentle command finally moves you. You climb back onto the bed and lie against the headboard, watching him with rapt attention as he strips down to just bare skin, before stalking towards you from the foot of the bed. Crawling for you on his hands and knees, he grabs at your thighs and pulls them open. He takes a shaky breath while admiring the view before him. 

“Gods look at how wet you are for me, already..” He grins, his head between your legs. Cool breath hits your skin and you shiver in anticipation. He lowers his head and begins to swirl his tongue against your bud, earning him a hearty moan from you. One arm wraps around your leg, and grips your inner thigh, as his other hand joins his tongue, sliding one finger up between your folds, just to test the waters. 

You can’t help but to buck your hips upward at him, and he chuckles. “Now, now, settle down...” He holds your thigh tighter to keep you still for him. “I’m going to take care of you, but you need to hold still for me, darling.”  

Already your chest heaves with each breath, you’re so tightly wound that you might just snap. You’re too excited, jittery, and nervous. You’re practically humming with energy, so desperate for release. Astarion presses the one finger he has in you deeper, hooking it into the spongy front side of your core. 

“Just relax, my sweet. Let yourself enjoy this.” 

“Sorry, I just.. It’s been a while since I’ve been intimate with someone-” you chuckle, raising your head to look down at him, “…let alone that someone being you.”

“Me? Do I make you nervous?” He smirks. “I can assure you, there’s nothing to be afraid of here.” 

“You're right, I’m just overthinking this...” 

“You are...” He purrs, his finger curling in a ‘come hither’ motion inside your heat, causing your eyes to flutter. “Oh, do you like that?”

“Yes.” You pant. 

“Can you handle another?” 

You nod eagerly. You want more. You want all that he will give you. He hums his contentment, and pushes a second finger into you, hooking it in the same manner as before. His mouth goes to work again on your clit, sucking and teasing it with his skilled tongue. 

“Oh gods...” You groan as your head falls back in ecstasy. “Astarion...”

His name being pulled from your mouth only serves to make him work harder, his fingers rapidly guiding you to your climax. 

“I want to taste your release. I want you to come on my tongue...” He huffs before devouring you again. “Come for me...”

You clench around his fingers and your thighs begin to squeeze his head. He moans against your clit to let you know to keep going. Sparks begin to fly behind your tightly shut eyes, and your core spasms, shuddering as your orgasm sweeps over you. You grip onto his hair with both hands, and ride his face, calling out his name over and over again. 

When you release his hair from your fingers, he comes up with a dazed sort of silly grin on his face. 

“I knew you could do it, you always were such a good girl for me.” Your legs slump to the bed, as he slides up your body to kiss you. His tongue is wet and hot as it pushes into your mouth. You taste your own pleasure still lingering there. 

“Can you taste how sweet you are? How deliciously you came for me?” 

You can only whimper in reply. 

You need more of him- more of that sweetness only he can provide. You feel the head of his cock at your soaked and still tingling entrance, waiting for your express permission to cross your sacred threshold. You lock your shaking legs around his hips, and pull him in with ease. 

He fills you to the hilt and lets out a strained whimper. “Oh gods, the way you feel around my cock... I’d forgotten how good you feel.” He pulls his hips back before ramming them into you again, his pace slow and steady. Working you from the inside to build your climax back up, he wants you to come on his cock this time, and he knows he’s going to have to hold back from pounding into you the way he so desperately wants to. Every moan and gasp you give him, only spurs him on- faster.. Faster... 

Before long, both of you are a panting, sweaty mess. Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, his hands on either side of your head, cradling you as he fucks into you. You didn’t know vampires could sweat, but his drips from his forehead, wetting his curls and falling onto your cheek. Even with his eyes half glazed over, his thumb swipes at the drop, wiping it away. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles, and you shake your head with a pant. You turn and take that same thumb into your mouth and suckle the sweat away. He may not remember, but he used to plead with you to take his fingers in your mouth while the two of you were in the throes of passion. 

He gasps, and his hips stutter before continuing with increased vigor. Shuddering at the small sensitive way your tongue wraps around his thumb, he imagines how it must feel to have his cock in the same place. Gods, he isn't going to last, not with the advantage you have over him like this. He doesn’t remember the exact intimacies you two once enjoyed, but you certainly do. You drag your fingers along either of his ears, and up to the very points of them, rolling the sensitive tips between your finger and thumb. 

“Gah! What are you-” His words are cut off by a guttural moan, and his eyes roll back into his skull. His hips snap into you with the same stuttering of his voice, and you feel him spill into you. He calls out your name before collapsing onto your chest, his entire frame twitching with the aftershocks of his release. A satisfied grin spreads across your face as your hands resume their fussing with his hair. 

He lifts his head to stare bewildered at you- at how you know him better than he knows himself. 

“What?” You ask innocently, pushing the curls back from his forehead. 

“You... Just you. You’re amazing.” 

“I may be a bit out of practice, but I think I still remember what makes you tick...” You reply with a satisfied soft smile. “This could be fun, rediscovering one another.” 

He hums in reply. “You have the upper hand though. You remember far more than I do.”

“And? What's wrong with that? You’re not having trouble giving up the reins are you?” 

He raises his head momentarily to give you one cocked eyebrow. “I’ll give them to you, but only because it's you...” You run your nails along his scalp, and he smiles against the side of your breast. “I trust you enough to give you that.” 

A yowling from the doorway draws both of your attentions away from one another. With a flickering tail, your cat strides into the room, not caring that both of you are still very tangled up, and sort of in the middle of something. 

“Get!” You swat at the thing, and she doesn't even flinch. Damned little-

“It’s alright my dear. Perhaps we should get up.” He pushes himself off your chest, and sighs as he sits on the edge of your bed. “I’m sure Karlach and Wyll are worried about where I’ve been.”

“Who?”

Aaand that’s part three. Be gentle it’s my first time writing smut lol.

Part four will be out ehhh, when I feel like it. Sorry…

Thanks for reading! Happy Valentine’s Day! -Tilly <3

SHOUTOUT TO @clericblood FOR BEING A HOMIE and guiding me on how to write smut. 🫶

[csprint]

he wants a baby

jackson wang x f. reader

jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more. he’s thought about it early in your relationship, when he truly realized that you’re the one. the one he could start a family with. and when he was sure of it, he was never afraid to share with you how much he wanted this. a baby.

he talked about it a lot with you. it became your regular pillow talk. “you want it too though, right? like, you think about it sometimes?” jackson would ask while holding your back against his chest in bed. his voice always got awfully quiet and soft during those moments compared to his normal tone.

you’d indulge him, tiredly listening or answering him in the best way that wouldn’t make him think having a baby is completely off the table.

he gets so excited, thinking about those things so far ahead. he made sure to promise you that he would take such good care of her. promised he’ll be there to watch her every step. and he was sure to use ‘her’ because he had the deepest feeling that your first child would be a girl.

“of course i do, jackson. it sounds so nice but.. just not right now. it’s not the right time.”

and he’d nod in understanding. your lives were just insanely busy, bringing a child into the relationship while things weren’t slowing down as soon as you’d liked it to, would probably bring more chaos than joy.

“but one day, right? we’ll have a baby one day, won’t we?” he whispered quietly in the darkness of the room, burying his face in your hair.

you pulled apart his hands from where his fingers locked over your stomach and brought it up to your lips, leaving soft kisses on the back of it. “one day.”

but as the weeks turned into months, that one day was never brought up again. after things had finally calmed down a bit, he thought that maybe you’d be the first to bring it up because he didn’t want to seem too desperate, (although he was) but you never did.

jackson silently planned things out to himself. it was going to be nothing but staying home and wasting time together. he even planned the day he was going to propose to you. not exactly in that order.

he was even convinced he was being given signs, just from a simple and innocent encounter with a fan who happened to be a new mother. she wore a white dress and all jackson could think about was what you’d look like in a white dress, post-birth glow.

the fat, rosy cheeked baby sat in her stroller, squealed in utter joy, easily entertained at the childish game jackson had initiated. a smile almost wider than his face came playing onto his lips, entranced and in complete awe of the adorable infant and her baby giggles.

jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more.

the night dragged on as it usually did. attending important parties with you because something’s always being celebrated. and then leaving before someone could convince him to take a private plane to another party in a different city.

when you made it back to your hotel room, there was just no way he could keep his hands off of you. kissing all over your face and neck, gripping each part of your body he possibly could and dug his fingertips into your plushy skin.

there was just no way he could stop himself. not when you’re so warm around him, your gasps and whimpers echoing in his ear. not when he’s so balls deep inside of you, his fingers gripping tight on the sheets, making his knuckles turn white.

���tell me when to stop.” he choked out, the vein running down the side of his neck looking prominent.

“w-why?” you didn’t want him to stop and you didn’t know why he’d ask that of you.

“cause if you don’t,” he groaned, hips snapping forward into yours, “i’m afraid i might put a baby in you.” jackson closed his eyes, not sure he wanted to see your reaction, and leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

the soft gasp you let out didn’t go unnoticed or the way you clenched around him, making him draw a sharp breath. he tried to get himself to stop, brought his rutting to a minimum but didn’t completely still inside of you because that would have been pure torture.

“okay.”

jackson sweetly whimpered when you tangled your fingers in his hair and gently tugged at it, making his head tilt back up. he looked at you with widened eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

“okay?” he repeated, wanting to be sure that he heard you correctly.

“yeah.” you shrugged. “i want you to put a baby in me.”

he was so blissful, removing himself completely off of your body and burying his face in his hands. you allow him to revel in it. even if he was too loud, putting you both at risk of getting kicked out. even if he was jogging around the room, nakedly, with his fists in the air, as if he’s won a boxing match. you didn’t mind if he basked a little more.

“we’re going to make the fattest, most cutest baby girl, ever.” you felt jackson’s body again, his frame fit like a missing jigsaw piece.

“what makes you so sure it’s going to be a girl?”

“i’ve got a really good sense for these things. trust me. you’re having a girl.”

your heart suddenly got overly emotional. he was so beautiful and you were in complete awe over his certainty. it didn’t take long for your gawking to finish before his lips were feverishly against yours.

he was so desperate, yet so slow, savoring the moment. the feelings that he caused to belly within you were unexplainable.

jackson lowered his mouth to your breast then took the nipple between his lips, pressing lightly with his tongue. you cried out – like your whole body was too hot and you couldn't breathe – bringing up a hand to trace his fingers across your other breast, but if he stopped you felt like you would die. you gripped his bare shoulders, holding on for dear life against the onslaught of sensations.

you gasped as he pushed into you for the second time, amazed by the electricity that rocketed through you. your legs wrapped around his hips of their own accord, seeking a better angle, searching for more. even now, he moved with grace, sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. only his rapid breath, occasionally coming out in a strangled moan.

it’s pure torture how slow he is sliding into you but feels exquisite. you gently roll against him, moaning as he slowly moves in and out of you. the pace is keeping the orgasm just out of reach, keeping you on edge; desperately clenching around him and pushing your hips into his to increase speed. but jackson’s hands remain firm on your hips, controlling the movements. both of your breathing is heavy, both moaning loudly as the need to find your release hits an all-time high.

going so slow was hard for him as well, though. he couldn’t hold it for long but he also didn’t want to rush it. and he never liked cumming before you did. what kind of man would that make him? had to treat you right.

jackson dropped down to his elbows, leaning on either side of your face as he panted heavily, the foot of your heels digging into the curve at bottom of his spine.

“please, just a little harder…I need more…I can't…take it…oh god, jackson– “

he interrupted you with a hard kiss, hips rutting a little faster now. the rush of pleasure hit you, and your fingers grasped for purchase on his back, needing an anchor. it was almost unbearable, the electricity building where the two of you were joined, tingling down to your toes and making you lightheaded. jackson panted hot air against your neck, your lips, kissing you again and again, and the energy was building and building.

you looked at his face, knowing his was trying to hold on a little longer. maybe the realization had seriously hit him for real, this time. that this was it and he’ll probably be an actual dad like he wanted.

“jackson,” you panted, cupping his face with your hands, fingers wiping the sweaty hairs that stuck to his forehead, “it’s time.” you whispered.

and he nodded and replied, “okay.” his voice weak and strained.

you noticed his movements had grown more erratic, almost frantic, and the low grunt deep in his throat seemed to shudder down your spine and rocket down to where your bodies were joined.

"oh god," you breathed as the sensation overload finally seized you. your chest was tight and your nerves sizzled and your thighs clenched as the pleasure exploded and seeped into every cell of your body. he groaned, his forehead dropping down to your shoulder when your walls fluttered around him.

you fell into the aftershocks when he thrust into you one last time and cried out your name. you felt the rush of fluid inside you and reveled in the feel of his body shuddering in your arms. he trapped you under his heavy weight but the kisses he softly peppered along your neck and collarbone made you forget that it was hard to breathe.

not even mere seconds after, he started moving again, pushing even deeper, a whimper escaping your lips.

“j-jackson?” you stuttered, thighs tensing around his hips.

“one more time,” he grunts as he suddenly began to pound into you heavily even after he had already came, “just to be sure.”

[lo1k-diamonds]

A woman's best friend 💜 Part 2

PAIRING: Taehyung x (f)reader

SUMMARY: After falling into temptation once, you and Taehyung tried to navigate the aftermath as best as possible. It turns out none of you can handle it, so your friendship is bound to end one way or another.

WORD COUNT: 7,127 

GENRE: f2l, smut (uni AU setting)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: mutual pining, angst, dirty talk, body worship, nipple play, oral (m receiving), fingering, protected sex

A.N. I know part 1 was bittersweet, and I am a sucker for happy endings, so here is part 2 with a shiny new ending for this couple 😚 I think it has the right vibe for Valentine's Day, enjoy! (Thank you to @eerieedits again for the awesome banner 💜)

Masterlist | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs | AO3 | Wattpad

The rhythmic thud thud on the window made you pull the curtain and look out the window. It was storming outside, and the night lights glistened as cars passed in the roads below and people enjoyed their Saturday night. 

Not you, though. Once, you had two types of Saturdays: the ones you’d go out with all your friends and the ones you’d stay home hanging out with Taehyung. Lately, you had neither, and it was all your fault.

You still remembered a night like this one. Turning away from the window, you let your gaze wander your living room. Back then, Physical: 100 kept playing on the TV screen for a long time, serving as background noise as you stayed in Taehyung’s arms. You lost track of time, then, staying awake and worrying about what that night would change.

You never discussed it further with Taehyung. He had fallen asleep, breathing gently with his arms around you, and you stayed perfectly still, aware of every ticking second. The conflict inside your chest was paralyzing — you didn’t want that night to end, but you also feared it continuing. The more you touched or interacted with him intimately, the harder everything would get. 

Those thoughts kept you awake, staring at the ceiling. So you recalled when the TV timed out and switched off, prompting you to go to the bathroom and come back only to find Taehyung exactly where you left him, naked with a blanket partially covering him as he slept. You didn’t regret slipping back into his embrace; you’d never get another chance. He wouldn’t know you had decided to return to his arms or how much you needed his warmth to calm down and fall asleep.

When you woke up, you found out a summer storm had broken out. It rained so much, then, but the same thud thud from the windows was unable to draw you away from his arms. All you could do was linger in his warmth for one second longer while you worried. Dreading and fearing how you’d ever look at him and not remember. How you’d brush each other and fake not having butterflies in your stomach. What if you saw him with someone else? How were you supposed to be his wing-woman again?

Of course, Taehyung had reacted the way you expected him to when he woke up. He chuckled at the pouring rain outside, happy that he had his leather jacket with him, and smiled dazzlingly when he saw you in a robe with your morning hair.

Then, before he left, he reassured you again, “Don’t worry about it.”

But you were yourself, and you had been right to worry. The problem wasn’t that you had slept together but that it had changed something inside your heart. Those feelings you once thought buried refused to vanish, the hope you once thought dead was alive and kicking, and to make things worse, you couldn’t forget.

Taehyung invited you for an ice cream, and you remembered what his eating you out felt like. He told you about this movie he wanted to see, and you knew what his baritone voice teasing you would sound like in the dark. He was excited about the new classes he was taking, even more so because you were there, too, and you shuddered at the memory of him kissing you as he came deep inside you, holding you so close you felt like a treasure. He promised to take you home when your group of friends decided to check out a new club, and you dreaded the whole night, both because he could choose to hook up with someone and because you wished that person could be you. Finally, he invited you to work on a group assignment together, and as you listened to him passionately go on about the topic, you wondered if you’d ever be able to reel your feelings back in.

You screwed yourself up over that one single weak moment. That yes had turned your life upside down, and while Taehyung kept his promise of being your best friend, you couldn’t.

So you did the only logical thing — you started avoiding him. It was inevitable — if his proximity made it impossible for you to get over him, then the only natural solution was not to have him close.

You weren’t sure he noticed, but you knew he was understanding. He never mentioned the situation and treated you like nothing happened. He never pushed to know why you started saying no to night outs or confronted you about being tired every time he invited you over. You were never able to invite him to come over and be alone again in that very same living room, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, so it didn’t surprise you never asked about it.

In the end, it hurt you more than anyone. You were frustrated with yourself; you asked for this, it was all your doing. But you were helpless. Sometimes, you could act normal, and your interactions were playful and warm, as always. He poked you under the table? You knew there was a joke coming. Or he’d lean into your ear to whisper something, and your heart wouldn’t somersault and expect a caress. However, other times, you couldn’t help but withdraw your hand or avoid sitting next to him and letting such interactions bloom. Because you’d read into them or remember or wish for things to be different, and you hated it. Hated it all.

You were about to turn on the TV and search for something that could take your mind off him when the doorbell rang. You wondered if the neighbor had put the wrong door number on the food delivery again, but Taehyung was outside your door like an apparition. 

Despite his black leather jacket, he looked drenched and dejected. He raised his dark eyes to yours. “Hi, can I come in?”

You didn’t hesitate to reach out to pull him inside. “Of course, let me grab a towel!”

You let him enter your place first and close the door behind him, then rushed to your bathroom to get a towel. Only when you came back to the living room did you realize it was odd that he was there.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with the others tonight?” you asked as you threw the towel over his head to dry his dripping hair. “How come you’re here?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled the towel away so he could face you. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to talk.”

“Alright! Who wants to drink what?”

Taehyung barely heard Jimin's question as your group of friends sat around on the couches and loveseats. That was their corner; they always sat there, and as he waited for everyone to settle down, his heart dropped. The loveseat you always shared with him was empty. You weren’t there again.

Taehyung asked about you quietly, trying to conceal the way his heart was squeezing inside his chest.

“She’s not coming,” Jimin answered, then shrugged. “Something about being tired.”

“She’s always tired lately!” Hoseok huffed as he sat next to Jungkook, who hummed.

“Maybe she’s sick?”

“When’s the last time we’ve seen her?” Jin wondered, and Namjoon sat on a beige pouf.

“Couple of weeks? Anyway, why are you asking?”

“You would know better than us,” Yoongi croaked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Don’t you have classes with her?”

“Aren’t you best friends?”

Taehyung nodded absentmindedly as they resumed choosing their drinks, and the weight inside his chest didn’t relent. Yes, he saw you; he should know about you. He should be able to understand, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t. You were slipping between his fingers, and he just couldn’t sit idly by and watch it happen anymore.

“I gotta go.”

He rushed outside without hearing their protests, and the pouring rain greeted him. It wasn’t enough to dissuade him; he raised his leather jacket’s lapel to cover his neck and made his way in between the people trying to reach the nightbars and get cover from the rain. You lived fifteen minutes away; you were just within reach.

It was all his fault. He should have thought twice about crossing the line with you, even when you said yes. Not just for you, but for his own sake. That night was branded in his memory, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move on from it. And he tried. He tried doing everything right. He tried pretending nothing happened, that he didn’t want anything more than friendship with you, that it wasn’t a big deal. He tried looking at you as purely as a friend would, and he tried looking at other people the way he knew he shouldn’t look at you. Yet, even in the few moments he was able to entertain the thought of someone else or get engrossed in a conversation with them, it was always the same. The moment you crossed his mind, he was reminded why it wouldn’t work. He’d be talking with someone clearly interested in him and instantly thinking about your kiss, your smile, your gaze as you kneeled before him, your teases. The person in front of him would touch his thigh, hinting at something more, and he’d instantly raise a wall. You were on his mind, and even if being friends was the only thing you wanted, it didn’t mean his heart or body wanted anyone else.

He craved you. That night wasn't just a dream or a type of heaven he wished had become permanent. It was a risk in every sense. He knew he wasn't just fucking you. He didn’t want just to leave you a slobbering mess, he wanted more. He wanted to look into your eyes and see it — the moment you'd realize how good you felt together. How perfect it was and could be. He wanted to look into your eyes and see the moment you'd fall in love with him.

And that was his biggest mistake. That one moment of pure greed — it wouldn't happen, he knew that. Even if you were curious about him, that wouldn't just happen. Best case scenario, you'd scratch the itch, be it for sex or curiosity, and move on. Worst case scenario, you'd regret it and never look at him the same way again.

He suspected the latter was happening despite his efforts. The whole night he had you in his arms, he struggled to enjoy it after the way you revealed your worries. His heart burned with a discomfort he couldn’t voice while he prayed that he wouldn’t lose you. That, no matter what happened, you'd stay in his life.

But he should have known. It was worse than a drunk one-night stand with someone from your friend group. You were best friends; of course, it was hard for you.

You started pulling away, and he instantly noticed. At first, it was the little things. You'd withdraw your hand from his or flinch ever so slightly when he leaned in closer. You didn’t invite him to spend time or the night in your apartment, just the two of you, and he understood why. The worst was that you withdrew from your typical antics and cut your smiles short. You’d be sitting next to him and not even look his way, and it withered his heart. Of course, when you did turn to him, he always had a smile for you. He wanted to be a comforting presence no matter how fleeting your interactions were, but still, it only got worse. 

It hurt when you avoided sitting next to him or dancing, and then you started disappearing. You didn't show up to all classes anymore, and you didn't hang out with your group of friends, at least not when he showed up. Then he'd text you to ask about it and notice that even through messages, things had changed. You texted less and less, and the distance was breaking his heart. 

He kept running through the stormy weather with his hair dripping down his forehead. He didn't care; nothing mattered at this point. It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and there were only three or four texts in between. What he feared was happening, it was undeniable, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He needed to see you and try one last time. It would be his dying breath, but at least he'd try. For once, he'd bare his soul and hope you'd do the same and forgive him. He just didn't want to lose you. He loved you so much.

He crossed a delivery boy at your apartment building entrance and ran upstairs to consume some of that nervous energy. Then, he rang the doorbell, and you opened the door for him, and his heart convulsed. God, he missed you so desperately.

“Hi, can I come in?” he mumbled, lost in the sight of you in your robe that brought him such bittersweet memories. 

You pulled him inside without hesitating. “Of course, let me grab a towel!”

You closed the door behind him, and he took his shoes off so he wouldn’t make a puddle in your living room. Yet that was the last thought he had before where he was hit. That couch, that place. His heart ached again as he turned to you, and you threw a towel over his head.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with the others tonight?” you asked as you patted the towel to dry his dripping hair. “How come you’re here?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled the towel away to face you. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to talk.”

He saw the second you tensed as the towel fell to the floor, but you didn't withdraw your hands, and he was not holding back.

“You said you didn't want things to change, and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to hold onto you,” he said, pain lacing his voice. “But I can't if you keep pushing me away like this.”

He paused, looking at your startled and tense expression, waiting for you to say something, but you were frozen.

He lowered his hands but kept holding onto yours. “I'm sorry if I ever hurt you. If I pushed you to do something that made you uncomfortable with me. It's my fault, I got carried away with my own selfish feelings,” he confessed, tearing up with a sad smile. “I promise I won't ever touch you again or bring up anything inappropriate, so please.” He let go of your hands gently. “Please forgive me. Please say we can still do something about this because I can't— I don't want to lose you.”

His voice wobbled, and you frowned, shaking your head. 

“I’m the one who is sorry,” you managed to say despite the tears pushing to get out. “Because it’s my fault. My selfish feelings, not yours. I'm the one who said yes and then couldn’t handle it. I'm so sorry, I— I should have told you, but I— I’m so sorry—”

You stammered, rubbing your face in embarrassment, distraught. You needed to tell him; you couldn’t let him think he did something wrong. But what if he thought staying friends would worsen things and decided to end everything?

“Told me what?” he asked, anxiously stepping closer to you. “Please, tell me,” he requested softly, but you kept hiding your face. “Please.”

Your hands started shaking over your face, and he suddenly realized you were holding back your cry as you trembled.

His heart sank. “Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

You uncovered your face to look at him. “No, you didn't.”

He held his breath as he observed you cleaning your cheeks. “But you’re crying,” he pointed out, desolation tearing his chest. “I'm so sorry! I promise I won’t ever do it again!”

You wiped your cheek annoyedly and reached to grab his jacket. “Stop!”

“I never wanted to hurt you, I—”

“Stop it!”

“I won't ever touch you again, I just—”

“Stop saying that!”

He stayed put, no matter how angrily you held onto his jacket. “I’ll never forgive myself if—”

“STOP!” You had to shout and pull him to you so firmly that he stumbled in your direction. Desperation was taking hold of you as sobs shook you, but his disheartened eyes kept you focused. “You never hurt me, I don't want you to think that for a second!”

“But… you've distanced yourself from me.”

“I know,” you croaked, looking down at his lips curved sadly.

“You said you didn't want things to change.”

“I know…”

“You said you didn't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I did…”

Taehyung waited for you to say something or look into his eyes again, but you didn't.

So he asked, “Did it?”

“Yes.” Your eyes finally rose from his lips, and you had to be truthful. “I can't be your friend anymore.”

Taehyung paled and stared at you, speechless, livid. His heart broke; his worst nightmare was—

“I look at you, and friendship doesn't begin to cover how I feel.”

“What?” He blinked, befuddled as his thought process stumbled on itself.

“I should have told you, but I never thought you’d— I knew it would be risky, but—” You licked your lips, having a hard time ordering your thoughts. “At that moment, when you asked, I just— Of course, I said yes, I— I’ve wanted you for so long, I— I should have known it would mess me up— I begged you not to let things change because I knew— I knew they would change for me, and—”

You were struggling to breathe and say everything you wanted, and he supported your arms as you held onto his jacket.

“You wanted me?” he asked softly, and you nodded. “What changed? Please… Please tell me.”

His gentle expression and supporting hands gave you the courage you needed. “Everything— everything changed,” you confessed. “I can’t look at you the same way. I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you or kiss you. I’m sorry, I—”

He cradled your cheeks suddenly and crashed his mouth to yours, and you whimpered ever so softly. You gripped him closer by his leather jacket and kissed him back, not hesitating for a second to meet his tongue with yours. You wanted to lick that taste back into your life, that warmth, that comfort you missed terribly.

You thought he felt the same way when he halted your kiss to a simple press of your mouths as though he needed to feel it. When he pulled away, his eyes were red and glistening, eying you with such emotion your heart trembled.

“You wanted to kiss me?” he asked, still cradling your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“To touch me?”

You nodded anxiously. “Yes.”

“That's what changed?”

“No.” You looked at his lips again before facing him. “I've always wanted to, but we were friends. Now, I just can't pretend anymore.”

“You mean… you don't see me as a friend?”

You shook your head still in his grasp.

“So you don't regret it?”

You could see him relaxing, his features soothing as you two talked, so you shook your head again. “I don't. Do you?”

“No,” he replied instantly, smiling. “I did when I thought you pulled away from me because I hurt you, but—”

“You didn't,” you assured again, pulling him closer. “Do you… Could you see us as more than friends?”

“Fuck yes,” he rasped, brushing your cheeks gently. “I want to be yours. I’ve wanted it for so long. There’s nothing else I want.”

“Really?”

Your eyes watered as you looked into his. Was this a dream?

He smirked. “Really. You better start believing it because if you let me into your bed again, I’m not leaving. Like ever.”

You chuckled and bit your lip. “If I invite you, I expect you to never leave. We cross the line and get rid of it. We say things that make us feel like more than just friends because we are more than—”

He crashed his lips into yours again, letting go of your jaw to pull you closer by the waist until your chests were glued. His leather jacket was still dripping from the rain, but you didn't care. If he kept kissing you like that, he wouldn't have it on for much longer anyway.

“Say it, then,” he mumbled between kisses. “You know the drill.”

You chuckled. “Do I?”

He hummed, chasing your lips.

“I only know the one to give you the green light to fuck me into a slobbering mess—”

His groan as he dragged his lips to your neck made you clench around nothing, and you bit your lip.

“But what if I don't want just to fuck?”

He pulled away to face you, with blown pupils and wet lips, held in check.

“What if I want to be yours?”

“I'll make you mine,” he promised, grabbing your hair on the back of your head so you'd face his dark eyes. “I'll make you forget ever not being mine.”

“In one of those five ways you thought of?”

Your whisper was not simply a tease, and you suspected he knew it when he groaned and leaned in to peck your lips.

“I've since thought of many more.”

He licked and nibbled your lips, and you had to close your eyes with the shudders.

“You thought about fucking me?”

“I haven't thought of fucking anyone else ever since I met you.”

Your cheeks burned as you snapped your eyes open. “What?”

“You heard me,” he murmured against your chin.

“But— I helped you— with that other guy—”

He shrugged. “Nothing happened. We got outside the bar and went our separate ways.”

“You never told me that!”

“Well, what could I say?” he said, speaking close enough to you that you could feel his breath on your lips. “That I wasn't really interested and went home to fuck my fist while I thought of you? I didn't think you'd appreciate that—”

It was your turn to grab his hair and pull him down to kiss you again, consuming just a little bit more. Your tongue darted out to lick, tease, and take, and he fought you with a low groan. Whatever you wanted, he wanted it too if it meant you were going to kiss him like that.

“You have— no idea��� how much— that drives me crazy,” you managed to say between kisses. “The thought of you— thinking of me— fuck—”

He seemed to get an idea because his hands lowered to your ass to squeeze it, catching you when you jumped into his arms. You never stopped kissing, even as he walked with you in his hands, until your back hit a wall.

You didn't care how or where he fucked you as long as he did. Of course, your mouth was busy as you opened it more so he could deepen the kiss, so you couldn’t tell him. But you could show him in the way your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close. Your heavy breathing matched his as your hands explored and tried touching him everywhere you could, but his jacket was in the way. He likely felt the same, seeing the way he fought to open your robe and tried getting it out of the way so he could kiss down your neck into the cleavage of your pajama top.

You chuckled; the two of you were making things harder by trying to undress each other at the same time. His eyes crinkled as he matched your smile and gave you the lead. His lips trailed your jaw as you pulled your robe open and shrugged it back to give him access to your neck and collarbone. Your skin instantly drew his lips, allowing you to push his jacket off him while he was happily distracted. 

You tried to get rid of his sweater, too, but couldn't. As soon as his jacket hit the floor, he wrapped his arms around you again and buried his face between your tits, squeezing you to him so firmly you couldn’t breathe. However, you could feel the way he was rutting into you and it drew a quiet moan as you fisted his hair. 

Goosebumps ran over you as he licked your cleavage, dragging his tongue over every inch of skin he could reach, and you needed more. You released one hand to reach in between your bodies with the single goal of touching him, and it wasn't easy. His ruts were unpredictable, not leaving any space between you, but you needed to grasp his desire for you, feel it in the palm of your hand.

When he raised his lips to kiss you again, it gave you the opportunity to unbutton his jeans. His tongue pushed through your lips, deepening his kiss so much you moaned quietly, muffled. Yet it just complemented and amplified your urge to grab him, and you did.

Your hand finally reached inside his boxers to grab his dick and pull it out, and he groaned. Your hand clamped shut around him, fisting him unapologetically, and he had to break your lips apart to moan softly. You adored the way he held his breath, letting his forehead fall to yours as he closed his eyes, taking in everything you gave him. His sweet expression sparked your desire even further, so you kept pumping him, delighted with the precum dripping around your fingers and his knitted eyebrows.

You'd go to the last consequences of this with pleasure, but he suddenly grabbed your hand away and pressed himself to you. You were squished between the wall and his body, but you had zero reservations about it, especially when he kissed you like that. His mouth crushed yours as his hips thrust into you, jumpstarting a carnal hunger that consumed you. His hand dug under your pajama top, scratching your skin up to squeeze your tits, and you moaned, bucking your hips to match his. His tongue was so deep in your mouth that you were drooling, both desperate to moan and feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your unfortunately still-covered cunt. You were fucking desperate to have him, and you'd gladly cum right here and now if he filled you up.

“Tae,” you tried, barely able to part your lips from his. “I need you inside me, please.”

He moved in a flash, checking his pants were open enough to give him space before letting you stand to pull your pants down your legs.

You gripped his shoulders for support, then sighed when he leaned in to nip just under your ear. His fingers skimmed your wet folds before pushing two fingers in roughly, unleashing your moans as he touched all the right spots inside you.

You were so ready to blow you could feel the enthralling pleasure tingling in your nerve ends.

But somehow, you had a discerning thought. “Condom… Tae… Grab a condom.”

He stopped suckling on the skin of your neck to eye you with a lustful gaze.

“I'm not on the pill,” you whispered, brushing his luscious hair off his eyes. He looked absolutely dazzling, and you wanted him to fuck you till you couldn’t even stand, but you did not want accidents. Not yet, anyway.

He blinked, his hand pulling out of you to feel his pockets. “I… I don't have one. The last time… I never got another one.”

You chuckled and he pouted, and you could read his thoughts.

“Not like I planned for this to—”

You kissed him, then pushed him back to have space to move away from his hold. “I know, I'll get one.” He tried to catch you, but you jumped over your clothes gracefully, only turning back to tell him, “Bed. In my bed.’

You got to your roommate's room to search for condoms. Hopefully, she had some, even though she spent more time at her boyfriend’s than there.

It wasn't hard to find them on her nightstand, and you took the whole box with you. It was not like she'd need them tonight.

You wondered how Taehyung would greet you but still staggered at your bedroom's entrance. He was lying on his back, arms spread over your bed sheets as he stared at the ceiling. Having heard you come in, he raised his head and promptly sat up. 

Even though his pants were unbuttoned and his clothes drenched, nothing would have given away what you were doing just minutes before. Except perhaps his dark glistening eyes running up and down your figure before they set back on yours.

You were naked from the waist down, yet suddenly, it wasn't enough. His eyes were curious and electrifying, and you wanted to keep going. Your heart was thumping loudly inside your chest, the thrill of that moment making you tremble, but you waited.

He raised his hand for you to grab, and your heart finally settled as you took it. Your fingers fit in his perfectly, and as he hugged you to him, resting his head on your chest, you finally stopped trembling. On the contrary, you caressed his head calmly as he held you. It felt like reaching home at long last. It was the first time you were touching each other like that, with such vulnerability and with all the cards on the table, and yet it was the best type of feeling.

He pulled away to look up at you, and you caressed his face gently, letting that ease echo between the two of you. It was real — his hands on your waist, his sparkling eyes, and the adoration in them. You knew then that it was as validating and fulfilling for him as it was for you that you were finally in each other's arms.

“Did you find one?” he asked hoarsely, and you nodded. “Do you want to stop?”

“Hell no.”

You frowned, and he wetted his lips. “I don't want to move too fast and mess this up. I care so much about you.”

You brushed the back of your fingers down his cheeks sweetly. “Me too. But we're not moving too fast. Right? We've been friends forever, and we want to be more than that.”

He nodded, his eyelashes fluttering as he enjoyed your touch. “Please.”

“Then let's,” you whispered, leaning in to nuzzle him. “I don't want to wait.”

“Then we don't.”

He was ready to get up and touch you, but you simply smiled and pecked him before getting on your knees. You could see how his lips parted expectingly as his eyes transfixed on you, making you giddy. You gave him an excited smile and reached for the hem of his pants, and he helped you get them off. Then you bit your lip as you reached and grabbed his erection again.

His head dropped back at the softness of your touch as he mumbled your name, and you nodded. “I want to suck you off.”

You never thought you'd get another chance to grab that juicy cock, let alone delight yourself in its smoothness and taste. You would have admitted to Taehyung how much you thought and fantasized about a moment like that one, but the words evaporated from your mouth. Your only thought was his taste, and as soon as a precum drop glistened over his slit, you dove in.

You sighed as he groaned above your head, instantly grabbing your hair out of the way as you sucked. You didn't even realize how intensely you were doing it, bobbing your head so he'd touch the back of your throat, because you were out. His cock pushing inside your mouth made you anticipate how he'd feel inside your tight walls, and his moans made your mind soar high, elated. Taehyung, only the one you had wanted and had feelings for forever, was right there, losing his mind with you. Because of you. Because he wasn't indifferent to you. He actually wanted you just the same, had feelings for you, thought of you, longed for you—

“Fuck— Wait—”

His voice was strangled, but you weren't listening. You here so dazed, clenching around nothing and high on your desire, that you only realized the reason for his warning too late.

His warm taste invaded your mouth, and you moaned, gushing between your legs at the thought of him losing control. Yet, in a split second, his hand wrapped over yours around the base of his cock so tightly it was almost painful for you.

Only then did you stop blowing him and pulled away, confused, and looked between him and his delicious cock. You had tasted cum for sure, and yet despite the way his dick twitched in front of you, there was no more coming out. He was groaning harshly, almost frustratingly, but you knew by his expression that pleasure was assaulting his nerve ends.

When he finally stopped groaning, his dark eyes opened. “What do you think you're doing?”

His voice was quiet, almost annoyed, and you just blinked up at him.

“You didn't tell me to stop.”

“I told you to wait.”

You simply shrugged. “You did say something like that, I just… I told you I wanted to suck you off.”

“And I told you I'd make you mine.”

“You still can,” you argued as he grabbed your hands to pull you up and get you on the bed.

“Not if I came fully.”

You shrugged and let him pull your legs around him as you leaned back on the sheets. “We have all night.”

“We have forever,” he underlined, making you chuckle as he got on top of you in between your legs. “Starting right now.”

You could only be amused and giddy with his assertiveness about making you his, and he smiled too. He brushed his hands along your naked legs, then leaned in to kiss your neck as his fingers got tantalizingly close. You tensed under him, gripping his shoulders. You waited impatiently, expecting to feel his touch any second and wondering how he'd react when he found out how ready you were. 

“Holy shit,” he almost whined when his fingers slid along your slit. You moaned back, shuddering with his touch. You knew you were slippery and dripping, and now he did too. If the pool between your legs wasn't obvious, the sounds surely gave you away. “You're so ready for me.”

You moaned your agreement as you gripped the sheets. His fingers weren't eager like before; this time, he patiently dragged his digits along your folds, pressing gentle circles on your clit now and then. Your whole body trembled every time he did, letting his kisses and nibbles on your neck build you up so intensely that you didn't know what to do anymore. You were hot and trembling, and moaning just wasn't enough.

You gripped his hair in search of something, and his answer was to crash his lips to yours. The kiss turned consuming instantly, and you moaned into his mouth, completely overwhelmed. His fingers entered you and hooked, pressing into your sensitive flesh with lewd sounds, and you couldn’t hold on anymore. You tried whimpering his name in between kisses, and if anything, he firmly kept going with his fingers, both inside and out, over your clit. It drove you to pull his hair harshly back, parting your mouths with strings of saliva between you, yet you didn't notice. Your orgasm burst through you, and you lost sight of yourself, moaning desperately in his hold, gripping his hair so tightly, you surely pulled it painfully.

You noticed this when you came to, blinking at him sluggishly. Your fingers instantly relented their hold, yet absolutely nothing in his expression indicated any pain. On the contrary, he was enticed. He was looking at you as though you had bewitched him.

He raised his hand to brush the hair out of your face, careful not to use the fingers still covered in your slick. “You're so beautiful.”

You would have blushed if you weren't already hot and bothered. Instead, you met his lips with yours, kissing him more calmly than he was able to. You melted a bit more with how he matched your gentleness, careful not to push or impose. He was adorable, and you were not done yet.

“Too hot,” you whined when the kisses picked up steam. “Get rid of it,” you asked, pulling on his sweater.

He firmly pressed his lips to yours before rising to his knees and pulling the sweater off. Then, he saw you struggling with your robe and helped you. Your pajama top met the same fate as his clothes on the floor, and you giggled because before it could even happen, he was already grabbing your tits and licking a nipple wildly. 

Moans interrupted your laughter as he licked and pinched, slurping your hardened nipples inside his mouth one at a time. You squirmed under him, trying to both grab him close and escape the onslaught. The more you writhed, the more you felt his hard dick pressed to your thigh, leaking against it as he rutted.

It drove you fucking wild because no matter how much you enjoyed having him eat your chest, you craved him inside you so much more right now. “Make me yours,” you begged, locking your glistening eyes with his when he looked up from the drooling mess he was making on your chest. “Don’t wanna wait, I need you.”

You noticed the red spots his lips were leaving behind on your chest, but you didn’t care because, in an instant, he was kissing you again. He stole your breath, diving in while you relished his hands tracing your curves until they caught your legs, spreading them so he could press his dripping cock and grind against your soaked cunt.

You groaned, unable to control your bucking hips to match him. The quiet moans out of his mouth burned you from the inside out, setting you on a path that could only end in you both consuming that passion sizzling between you.

But he pulled away from your lips, hiding in your neck and panting heavily as you moaned. 

“Tell me where the condom is, or I’ll fuck you without it.”

You whimpered, feeling the way he slid across your folds length and rubbed your clit deliciously. “I’m so close.”

He uttered your name in a scold, the warning lingering as you kept bucking your hips. You opened your eyes to face him and bit your lip, so fucking close you could see it. You were tempted to throw all caution out the window and have him raw. To raise your hips so he’d get inside you right as you came around his thick cock, creaming him from tip to base. The very thought was risky; his current expression was already pure lust, holding on by a single thread. If you pushed him, he’d fuck you raw and right, just like you craved.

But you let your hips fall to the mattress and relented. “Right pocket of my robe.”

He felt the robe still under you and ended up raising his hips away from you before you’d both lose it. It made you sigh and feel beneath you as well, finally finding the crumpled part of the robe that had the pocket you both needed.

He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and got the condom on as fast as he could. When his eyes raised back to yours, and he grabbed your legs, pushing them to your sides, you clenched. His expression was dark and unreserved, as though the brakes had come off, and it made you shudder.

Yet when he aligned his dick with your entrance and sank in, he was nothing but respectful and careful, almost solemn. The way your tight embrace left him adrift was evident in the way his eyebrows knitted and his jaw hardened, but he didn’t ram inside you or let that feeling overcome his control. He waited for you to adjust to his size, but you kept clenching around him, prompting him to look at you. 

You had felt him before, but it was just as earth-shattering as the first time. You simply shook your head as you sighed. “You feel so good— Don’t hold back!”

He almost growled as he let his hips snap to yours, and you let your head fall back. Your hips matched his, increasing the intensity of each thrust, and it was wild. You got lost in the sounds of skin slapping and moans and the heat overwhelming you from the inside out. He adjusted your legs to bend further, perfecting his angle to one that simply unleashed your voice with every slam and let him guide you to the finish line. 

He knew you were close by the way your pussy sucked him in, tightening like a vice that barely let him move away. It made him tremble from head to toe as he groaned in your neck. “Just like last time— I've dreamed of this for so long,” he confessed, trying to kiss you, even as you both heaved and tried keeping that hallucinated rhythm.

“Me too,” you whimpered, searching for his eyes in the midst of it all. His hand wrapped around your hair, keeping your eyes on his as though he needed to look at you, too, and you squirmed with watering eyes. This time, you didn’t need to hide. This time, you could lose yourself because he was yours. “Please.” 

You mumbled his name between moans as you begged, and he listened. He was lost in the pleasure, but he was attentive to you, noticing all the little cues he was only once privy to. You moved with him as your eyes rolled back closed and your nails dug into his shoulders, and he felt the shattering orgasm start around his cock before he heard your moans.

Your orgasm started his out of nowhere, but as he grunted and trembled in your arms, he had only exhilaration radiating from every pore. He spilled his cum as deeply as your quivering heat allowed it but quickly and eagerly opened his eyes to look at you. You were still trembling and moaning breathily with your lip between your teeth, but then you looked at him, and he knew.

He’d never catch the moment you fell in love with him, because the truth was, you already had.

[always-devon]

without him.

(A gift for the Outsiders Valentine’s Day gift exchange, for @alittlebitofloveliness!)

Every Valentine’s Day, Ponyboy and Johnny had done something for each other. Ever since they were little kids who didn’t really have a clue what love actually was. That started when Pony was 7 and Johnny was 9, when Johnny showed up with a card and a drawing for Pony. And every year from then. Last year’s gifts were a bundle of dandelions from Johnny, and a drawing of a sunset from Pony.

This time was different.

Ponyboy, honestly, was just waiting for Johnny to show up with a little card, or chocolates, or something. It was in the back of his mind.

He’s gonna come.

The ruddy-haired teenager sighed. It was useless to hope.

He got up out of bed, trudging into the bathroom to brush his teeth. While he did, he looked at himself in the mirror. Only the very ends of his hair were blonde now. It had pretty much fully grown back to its original reddish-brown.

That’s all I got left of him.

Dammit.

All of a sudden, tears were rolling down his face. His toothbrush lay discarded, having fallen in the sink. He rubbed the wetness off his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Nice, real tuff, Ponyboy.

What Johnny and him had was special. More than friendship. Not reckless and wild, like Sodapop and Sandy were. Not like Evie and Steve, either. It was thoughtful, quiet, warm. Being with Johnny was like sitting by a fireplace.

I never noticed colors and clouds and stuff until you kept reminding me about them.

Was it love? Ponyboy didn’t know. A guy couldn’t love another guy like he could a broad, could he? Was it wrong, wanting one more minute, wanting one last goodbye? Wanting more time to spend with him?

Ponyboy shook his head, halting his train of thought, and spat the minty foam out of his mouth. He picked his toothbrush up out of the sink, rinsing it off and putting it back in the holder. He didn’t bother with any hair grease today—it was a Friday, who would care?

Johnny liked it ungreased. Said it looked nice.

He walked out into the living room, grabbing his backpack that he’d carelessly tossed by the couch yesterday, and went out to the front porch, all while not saying a word to any of the gang.

He just…needed some time for thinking.

It was a nice morning. A little cold, but nice. The sky was still a little orange, with it being a winter morning.

He would’ve liked this.

Everything made him think of Johnny. The dandelions starting to sprout in the grass in the front yard. The way the early morning sky transitioned from orange to a soft baby blue. Everything reminded him of the shy, jumpy black-haired boy with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Valentine’s Day was never going to be the same ever again.

Not without him.

[steddieprompts]

Steddie; 1925 words; friends to lovers; belated valentine's day.

Eddie paced into his room and then back out into the hallway. Turned. Paced back into his room. Cracked the knuckles on his right hand. Turned. Paced back out into the hallway.

It was a good thing Wayne was at work or else he would make some remark about Eddie pacing a hole into the hallway floor.

He turned into the kitchen, grabbed the honeycombs out of the cabinet and shoved his hand in the box, scooping out a handful before returning to the hallway. Into his room. Eat a few honeycombs. Turn. Back out into the hallway. Eat a few more. Turn. Back into his room. Eat the rest of the honeycombs.

His eyes landed on a notebook on his desk.

Mrs. Laski, his fifth grade English teacher, had told him to write when he couldn’t figure out what else to do.  He had a suspicion it was just her way of keeping him in his seat and quiet but that didn’t matter right now.

He didn’t know what to do, and there was a notebook.

He plopped himself down at his desk and flipped open the notebook, turning pages until he found one that didn’t already have notes and drawings scribbled all over them.

2/10/88

I’m gonna kill Jefferson.

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second before putting pen to paper again.

Why would he say I’m in love with Steve?  He talks about Kevin from his ridiculous band camp way more than he talks about Barb and he and Bard are dating!  Just because I talk about Steve every once in a while…

Just, where does he get off pointing it out?

Eddie bit his lip tapping his pen against the notebook probably about as fast a hummingbirds wings, his knee doing its best to keep up under the desk.

I don’t even… I’m not looking for a relationship. Haven’t even thought about it.

But now, dear Jeffery has gone and put this idea in my head and it’s growing like cancer. It’s probably going to start dripping out of my ears all soft and mushy.

Steve Harrington.

<3 <3

The problem – the fucking annoying, needling, migraine inducing problem – is that he’s right.  As soon as he said it, I knew. Why didn’t I know before?

Eddie dropped his head to his desk and let out a tortured groan.  This morning, he was the same Eddie Munson he had been for years… well, ever since he survived a trip to an alternate dimension with 20% more scare tissue than he had before.  He was fine this morning and then Jeff had to open his mouth after the campaign.  Eddie had harmlessly mentioned that Steve applied for a job at the fitness place opening up across town and Jeff came back with, “Does Steve know how much you love him?”

Eddie was pretty sure he meant it as a joke… was 75% sure.  But it put the idea in his head and now…

Eddie picked up his head and wrote with so much force that it probably made a dent in the next five pages:

I’m in love with Steve Goddamn Harrington.

Eddie stared at the words… ran a finger over them, the ink smudging a little, feeling the indents of the letters; smiled a little.  He skipped a line and kept writing:

I’ve never considered what being in love would be like.  Never really been interested enough.  Now that I think about it though, I think I’ve loved Steve for a long time.  I mean, he saved my life… so that definitely has something to do with it…

But at the same time, that’s not it at all.

Steve is…

Eddie looked around his room.  On his nightstand was a baseball that Steve had brought over one day and just left there.  Whenever Steve visits he picks the ball up, lays back on Eddie’s bed and tosses the ball up and down, up and down, never once missing a catch and hitting himself in the face like Eddie is pretty sure would happen to him if he tried it.

His eyes drifted over to his closet, where one of Steve’s swim team shirts hangs on a hook.  He loaned it to Eddie one day when they were swimming and he just… never gave it back.

He knows that under his bed is a box of Steve’s personal stuff.  He brought it over one night when he thought his parents were going to kick him out and Eddie promised he could always stay with him and Wayne if he needed.  Steve didn’t stay more than two days, but the box never left.  Steve said he felt better leaving it with Eddie.  Eddie respected Steve enough to never snoop around in it.

Steve is kind.  He’s too kind sometimes and it makes me wonder how he survived his parents; survived all that shit that happened in ’84, ’85, ’86.  Sometimes I can see it in his eyes.  When he thinks no one is looking he gets this thousand-yard stare and I know he’s somewhere else, hearing echoes and seeing ghosts.

And he’s so strong.  He’s told me about the nightmares, the things that happened to him, and how much he longs to get the hell away from this shit-hole town. But not until the kids are gone.  Not until Robin and Nancy are settled somewhere far away from here.  Not until he knows that everyone is safe. I asked him when that would be, and I swear I saw his spine bend further under the pressure of it all. When is anyone ever safe?

Eddie’s eyes drifted to the corner of his desk.  Tucked under another notebook was a newspaper ad for a car dealership, where Eddie knew Steve had circled the truck he ended up buying.  Eddie asked if he was turning into some kind of country boy.  Steve shrugged and said, “It’ll come in handy when Robin goes to college after her gap year.”

Eddie also knew there was an aborted half circle around a used RV.  He knew Steve wanted to travel, to see something outside of Hawkins. To do something normal and distracting and fun.  Go somewhere he could relax and not worry.  Eddie was accosted with a memory of himself and Steve, parked in the van on the side of a backroad, looking out into a freshly cut wheatfield as the sun set. The orange and red coloring the side of Steve’s face as a soft breeze carried the last traces of summer warmth into the back of the van and Steve closed his eyes against it.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

I think I love Steve because… Because he’s like Aragorn. It sounds corny and stupid but… Aragorn does everything for the people he loves. Only becomes king because he knows that others might use the same power for evil. Carries the horrors of war with him but doesn’t lean on anyone that can’t hold his weight. And Steve does that.  He loves fiercely but in a way that can only be seen if you’re looking for it.  He’s loyal to his friends. He carries so much weight for the ones he loves.

And I think I’ve realized, though I’ve known in the back of my head for a while, that I always want to be by his side, to hold him up if he needs me.  Because I know he would do the same.

Someone knocking at the door startled Eddie out of his thoughts.  He dropped the pen on the notebook and hopped up out of the chair.

He hardly had time to process the fact that it was Steve on the other side of the door before he spoke.

“I got the job.”

It took Eddie a minute to process but when his mind caught up he threw his fists in the air before launching himself out of the door and wrapping his arms around Steve, the force of his hug knocking Steve back a step.

“Jesus,” He heard Steve chuckle before he turned his head an planted a comedically loud kiss to the side of Steve’s face.

“Dude!” Steve groaned, shoving him away but not losing the stupid grin as he wiped at the side of his face.

“Come on, Steve-o, let’s celebrate.” Eddie grinned, pulling Steve into the trailer and Steve let himself be pulled.

Eddie bounced down the hall into his bedroom, pulling his lunchbox off its shelf in the closet.

“Munson, they’re gonna drug test me tomorrow.”  Steve said from the doorway of Eddie’s room where he was pulling off his Family Video vest.

“God, you’re not even getting a paycheck yet and already they’re ruining your fun.”  Eddie groaned, putting the lunchbox back where he got it.  Steve threw the vest on Eddie’s bed before picking up the baseball.  “Can you drink?  Or will they sense the debauchery in your urine?”

“Uhg, why’d you have to use that word?”

“What, debauchery?’”

“No, ‘urine.’”

Eddie cackled.  “Should I have said piss?”  He rounded the bed and headed for the hallway.  “Fluids? Excretions?”

“You’re disgusting!” Steve shouted at him as he made his way to the kitchen.

Eddie smiled to himself as he opened the fridge, pulling out four beers before grabbing the cheese puffs out of the cabinet.

“It’s too bad it’s a Tuesday or we could go to the hideout and weasel free drinks out of Linda. You know she can’t resist…”  Eddie stopped dead in the doorway because there, sitting at his desk, was Steve, notebook in hand, eyes on the page.

“Shit,” involuntarily left Eddie’s mouth as he almost dropped one of the beers.  Steve didn’t look up, didn’t even move, just kept reading.

Eddie threw the beers and puffs on the bed before taking a couple of stuttering steps towards Steve.

“Stevie? Uh, that’s…” That’s what? What could he possibly say right now that would explain the words on the page as anything but what they were.  “I can…”

Steve held up a finger and Eddie froze, stopped talking because what else could he do?  He watched as Steve’s eyes moved line by line down the page, finger held up with the ball still in his hand like some sort of sports wizard casting a spell on Eddie to keep him silent and still.

He reached the end. Put the notebook down. Dropped his hand. And finally turned to Eddie.

“Do you mean it?  All of that?”  Steve asked, eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Yeah. All of it.” Eddie replied past the lump in his throat.

Eddie watched as Steve slowly got up from the chair, placing the ball on the desk before taking the one step that placed him squarely in front of Eddie.

“You know, Valentine’s day is coming up, and I know it’s not your favorite holiday but uh…”  Steve slipped his hands into Eddie’s “Would you like to spend it with me?”

Eddie smiled, leaning into Steve’s gravity. “Only if you buy me one of those cheesy, drug-store teddy bears.”

“Deal.”  Steve grinned back before he was pulling Eddie’s hands, tilting his head just so and murmuring “I love you, too” before sealing his confession against Eddie’s lips.

When they broke apart Eddie squinted at him.  “I can’t believe you snooped in my personal writings.”

“I can’t believe you needed Jeff to tell you that you loved me.”

“I take it back, I’m not going out with you.”  Eddie grumbled.

“Yeah, right.” Steve laughed before kissing Eddie again.

[4ragon]

Fic request: new relationship narumitsu, miles and phoenix have just begun living together and miles is reveling in it. Preferably miles pov!

IIIIIIII already got a bit off topic on this prompt but I hope you still like it.

It’s a strange day when Phoenix Wright wakes up first. At least, that’s Miles’s first thought upon opening his eyes to discover the bed empty.

He blinked slowly, rubbing an eye with a thumb as he squinted around the room. Even without his glasses it was clear he was alone, with nary a spike in sight. And, yes, even feeling Phoenix’s side of the bed (Phoenix’s side! What a thought.) the sheets had gone cold.

With a disgruntled grumble, Miles began feeling for his glasses on the bedside table.

It had been a month, so far. A month of their new home. A month of good night kisses, of waking in a tangle of limbs. Which, well, not that Miles exactly enjoyed new things. He was a creature of habit. He liked having his day planned out in advance, of knowing what each day would bring, no surprises.

…which of course begged the question of how he let Phoenix Wright into his life, but, well, now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to become annoyed. 

After all, he’d already worked Phoenix Wright into his schedule, his morning routine. He’d worked hard to fit Phoenix into his daily habits. One: Wake up and pry the man off of him. (This of course adds five minutes to his usual schedule). Two: Feed Pess and let her out into the backyard to relieve herself. Three: Get the bathroom to himself (he had to time this perfectly. They’d had to work incredibly hard to find a bathroom schedule that got him, Phoenix and Trucy enough time to prepare.) Four: Dress, and then ply Phoenix with kisses until he agrees to move. (Another five minutes to his schedule. Phoenix was lucky Miles made time for him.)

It was precise. It was perfect. And now it was ruined.

Miles stepped out into the hallway and was immediately accosted with the smell of frying cholesterol. He blinked, brows drawing together as he glanced around. No one in sight. Even Pess’s dog bed was notably empty.

But when he stepped into the kitchen, everything was made abundantly clear.

“Alright, just one more,” Phoenix grumbled, tearing a piece of bacon off for a trembling Pess. “But we do not tell anyone about this, got it?”

“Wright!”

“ACK!” Phoenix jumped, the rest of the bacon slipping from his grasp and promptly disappearing in a flash of white fur and teeth.

“What on earth are you doing?” Miles asked, arms crossed as Phoenix looked over sheepishly.

“Morning, Miles,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re up early.”

“I’m up early?! I am up at my usual time, thank you very much.”

“...Ah,” said Phoenix, looking toward the clock. “So you are.”

A huff. “Really, Wright, what are you doing attempting to clog my dog’s arteries at six thirty in the—”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Hmm?” And there was a plate being shoved into his hands.

“Here,” Phoenix said. “It’s not much, I, uh, okay I kind of forgot this was coming up, but I had enough to sort of scrounge up something edible. Though don’t judge me on the pancakes, I was trying to make hearts.”

He stared down at the plate. Some misshapen pancakes and bacon stared back. “...Wright…”

“Can you please call me Phoenix?” Phoenix groaned back. “We’re dating, remember? Or did you forget?”

“Forg—That—I—Excuse me?!”

Phoenix laughed. “Don’t look so offended,” he snorted, leaning over and pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Anyway, can you pull out the spray butter and some forks? I forgot.”

Miles glanced down at the plate again. There was something warm in his chest, something fond and exasperated all at once. Only Phoenix Wright could make a break in routine sound so…nice. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fine. But we are using real butter, not that monstrosity you keep buying from the store.”

“Miles,” Phoenix groaned.

“Phoenix,” Miles replied, grabbing a stick of butter from the fridge and slipping off toward the kitchen table.

[newkatzkafe2023]

wukong 1999 but this

https://www.tumblr.com/newkatzkafe2023/772443036089303040/we-seen-what-would-happen-if-they-found-out-they?source=share

Mad Love all over again❤️

(Wukong) The call it creeping I say loving, it's the only way for me, filling papers, sighing wavers but I stay outside her reach🎶🎵🎶

I name your mother, and your father, and the first pet that you keep, I know your favorite place to dine at when your cheque comes in each week🎶🎵🎶

I know you do your wash on sundays and separate your whites, and that your bike needs tires because last week I set those spikes🎶🎵🎶

(Lotmk Wukong) Mad Love is the best way to describe what you to had, Wukong had been tethering over the edge for a while. He was so cute to you looking like an adorable little stray, and to him you were a new goddess in his life looking up at you with hearts in his eyes. He would do anything for you and to have you near him even if he had to break your wheels, to your cart.

(Wukong) i got a million Polaroids, with the dates penned in red ink🎵🎶🎵

I sneak a walkie talkie in your room to listen to you sleep🎵🎶🎵🎶

Meanwhile you would cooed and snuggle and kiss his soft lips, never failing to give him endless affection. You would draw pictures of Wukong whenever you stalked him at the time, and you still think he might know your looking at him. As he would slowly strip out of his clothes looking over his shoulders with looks of lust and desire, begging you to come over and get him🫦. Wukong is also aware of the listening device as he would purpose moan and chirp pretending to be asleep.

(Wukong) You just down know yet, but you love me, and I love you the same. One day, we'll have a pretty wedding, and I'll be your everything🎵🎶🎵

We'll be together yes forever, we will never ever part oh you don't know it yet but baby I already got your heart🎵🎶🎵🎶

(Y/n) Some call it stalking I say walking just extremely Close behind, I'm sure if I sat down and asked you Well, you really wouldn't mind🎵🎶🎵🎶

You got those eyes that drive me crazy and I got eyes to watch you sleep, I brought a packed lunch and some tea for my stake out in your tree (outside your inn)🎵🎶🎵🎶

It's always fun to tempt Wukong whenever your with him, strip teasing him and calling him your baby boy. Wukong would give you this empty-headed look with foggy hearts as he lick his lips wanting to taste you. You would smirk and chirp as you watched over him sleeping away, the pilgrims didn't know about you quite yet. Though you would sneak in at odd hours and give his thick tall "staff" a good old wake up kiss.

Gotta be quiet as a mouse, or else they will call police and get done in for something stupid like disturbance of the peace🎶🎵🎶🎵

And piece by piece im collecting at the things you leave behind, and when you don't i rummage though your bins to see what I can find🎶🎶🎵🎶

The final straw being how Wukong would leaven many things behind, for you to swoop in and take. Building a collection of memories of your darling husband, while he would hold things that would have your senct on it and never letting go of it. Wukong hates how has to keep his darling peaches a secret away from heaven and the world, but it's also so hot knowing your his warm and sexy secret to have to himself forever and ever.

(Y/n) You just don't know yet but you love me and I love you the same one day we'll have a pretty wedding and I'll be your everything

We'll be together yes forever, we will never ever part you just don't know it yet but baby I already have your heart

Wukong and you love each other, more then anything in the world and nobody will separate you two.........God help anyone who tried🔪

(Both) You just don't know yet but you love me and I love you the same, one day we'll have a pretty wedding and I'll be your everything

We'll be together yes forever We'll will never ever part, you just don't know yet but baby I already have your heart🎶🎵🎶💚💚💚

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG💋

[jsmelodies]

The Next Chapter

Ending @sjmromanceweek with some pure fluff :) This is my interpretation of what comes next. I think Nesta deserves to watch Cassian chop logs in half with his axe (That’s it. That’s the plot.)

Summary: Cassian builds Nesta a house.

Read here on ao3

---

Nesta should have figured that their mating ceremony was going to end with Cassian acting like a half-feral beast. She couldn’t blame him entirely, though, when it was her smile that triggered it, causing his wings to spread wide behind him before snatching her off.

He’d offered a simple ‘sorry’ when his mind cleared while they flew. But she’d had enough of the ceremony as well, ready to spend the night with her mate, her husband, who held her close to his chest, even long after they’d landed. 

He held her like that all the way to their shared room, while the final song from the party lingered in her mind. She hummed it softly, the sound resonating against his chest, continuing when Cassian placed her on the plush bed.

She stopped when he kissed her. Took his time worshiping her with his fingers. His tongue. He guided her free hand to the membranes of his wings, showing her the right place to touch. 

Then, he settled himself between her thighs, moving inside of her until both of them fell into a mindless bliss. For a while, they could do nothing but cling to each other, a thin layer of sweat coating their bodies as they rested together.

Afterwards, Cassian reluctantly untied the ribbon around their hands. He threw on a pair of cotton pants, while Nesta pulled one of her nightgowns from his drawer.

She felt his presence behind her. His palms skimmed up her sides, drawing her back into his muscular body.

“I have something for you,” he said, before pressing a kiss to her neck. Her cheek.

“Do you?” she asked, turning around in his arms. Looked up, and saw his gorgeous curls framing his face as his throat bobbed.

Nervous. He was nervous.

He held a piece of parchment. A nice one, that he probably had to go into one of those fancy shops along the Sidra to get, folded in neat lines that had a wax seal holding it together. 

“What’s this?” she murmured.

He turned the parchment over in his hand, hesitantly offering it to her. “It’s…a mating gift, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said, her brows furrowing as she looked at it. No one had told her about this. It was another part of this fae existence that simply didn’t know about. Like suddenly having an extra limb that she’d gone most of her life without, then being expected to run a race on it. “Was I supposed to–”

“No!” he said, shaking his head. “No. Just—open it, Nes.”

He held it out to her with his battle-callused hand. She took the paper, running her fingers over the red wax seal. A small flame, centered in the middle, surrounded by a thin circle.

“This must be important,” she noted.

“Everything involving you is important to me.” Said so freely, so resolute that her mind was incapable of doubting it.

She lifted her eyes to Cassian, only for a second, before breaking the seal with her finger and unfolding it so she could read what was inside.

She’d seen Cassian’s handwriting before. A scrawl that he tried to force into being something else, more refined. On his rough days, she would watch him trace each letter carefully until it came out practiced. Perfect. Without a flaw.

In something as simple as his handwriting, she could see the years, the centuries, of insecurity that had wormed its way into his head.

So she knew when she wasn’t looking at Cassian’s handwriting. “Did you hire somebody to do this?” she asked, looking the letter over.

He shifted on his feet. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

She didn’t want to unpack that. As if something coming from him could be anything but perfect. He had a knack for it, getting her things that were so thoughtful that they were hard for her to accept. 

Indulging him, she read the contents of the letter. Scanned over them quickly at first, before almost doing a double take and reading the words much more carefully.

“Wait.”

“I know it’s not much, but–”

“You’re building me a house.” The words escaped her in a breath. And she couldn’t believe it, that he would…

“Well, you can’t really leave here, can you? I thought you might like your own place. Close to everyone, if you want. Or not. Whatever you want.”

It was everything. All those years of never having something that was truly hers, that no one could take away. Years of never having a proper home. That made this everything.

“You’re building me a house?” 

She lowered the letter, looking at her mate once more, and saw the apprehension creeping in.

“I can get you something else, if you want–”

She shushed him, her heart flooding with such a rush of emotions that she could barely contain it. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer so that their chests were flush together. Close enough that she could see the short stubble on his cheeks, that she could lean in and kiss him again.

“You’re building us a house.”

The corners of his lips raised at the changed wording, and it was quite possibly one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen. Cassian didn’t cry very often, but tears were gathered along his lower eyelid, getting ready to fall.

He hugged her close, letting his chin rest on the top of her head. “Yeah, Nes. I’m building us a house.”

***

She chose a spot on the banks of the Sidra, well on the outskirts of the city. When she first saw it, the waters lapping along the shore, she knew.

Trees covered the area, creating a canopy overhead that extended all the way out into the water. It was close enough that she could walk into the city if she wanted, while she could also be woken up in the morning by chirping birds and Cassian’s gentle snores as he held her.

Peace. After everything, the two of them could live in peace.

And so it began.

Nesta thought it would be a far-off fantasy. Something Cassian would get around to eventually, not on the top of his list of priorities. Not that she would blame him—he worked way more than he needed to already, much to her disagreement. But here he was in the hours between training, between camp inspections, hauling wide tree trunks across the clearing. And quickly, more quickly than she could have imagined, a simple, two-story house arose from its foundation. Plenty of room for the two of them, and possibly more than the two of them, if they decided they were ready (many, many years in the future.)

One week ago, she moved. Into the bedroom with soft light coming through the windows. Into the living room with the stone fireplace, each of the rocks hand selected by her mate. Into the porch in the front, so she could see the water as it streamed by, sometimes with fish jumping into the air.

It was home. And this morning, only pure contentment poured over her as she woke in her and Cassian’s bed.

Nesta made a cup of tea in the kitchen, savoring the warmth in her palms before opening the wooden door. Cassian had put stained glass on the top, a mosaic of colors that he’d purchased from a local artisan.

She sat on the steps of the porch, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off Velaris’ chill as it began its descent into winter once more. Cassian had covered her with it last night, after he made love to her until she was sated on their bed.

Cassian was a tough male to keep up with. Because he’d fallen asleep with her, becoming her companion in that dreamless rest until his body forced him awake at ungodly hours of the morning. It was the soldier in him, she knew, that had him waking up before dawn broke on the horizon. 

Cassian’s axe thudded through the wood and onto the platform. She’d been able to hear it earlier, the noise distant and muddled through the walls of the house. It had lulled her further into sleep with its steady rhythm, even when the warmth of his body had long faded.

He was hard at work, and she settled herself in place, content to watch.

Even in the chill, he’d forsaken wearing a shirt. A shimmer of sweat covered him, glistening over his tanned skin, covered with tattoos. His hair was tied back, and his wings stood at attention. She couldn’t help noticing the way they moved with each blow. Involuntarily, reflexively, as if they were creating some kind of counterbalance to the force he was exerting downwards. It was a rocking chair today. So she didn’t have to sit on the steps anymore, he’d said. Once he got all the pieces cut, he was going to sand them down, before bending them into shape.

She’d seen the meticulous motions of his hands. For him, it wasn’t just a skill. It was fully an art, one that he took great pride in.

He’d explained it once, telling her that five hundred years of existence lent itself well to having hidden skills. One of Cassian’s was working with his hands—crafting things where there hadn’t been anything before.

This was his first house. On his own, at least. He’d helped with the building before in Illyria, and knew how to ensure it was structurally sound. There had always been others, though, to help. But he’d been insistent on doing this all by himself, refusing any offers of assistance from Rhys and Azriel. And what a shame it was, that she was left to watch the rippling muscles of Cassian’s back as he brought that axe down, again and again.

“See something you like?” he teased, not yet turning to face her.

“Oh, just some wood that I’d like to get my hands on,” she muttered under her breath.

Cassian brought the axe down once more, effectively splitting the large log in half. Then he turned, his mouth forming a wide grin as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead. Every defined line of muscle was on full display as he took step after step towards her, amusement playing in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you had such an interest in carpentry, sweetheart.”

“I have an interest in a wide variety of things. Didn’t you know?” she said, letting coyness slip into her voice. “Especially when there’s a certain hulking Illyrian involved.”

He chuckled, wings flaring slightly behind him. Damn peacock.

When he reached her, he leaned down, lifting her chin so he could press a kiss to her lips. “Then maybe,” he murmured, “I’ll have to give you a private demonstration.”

Her heart fluttered swiftly in her chest. Still, she couldn’t get enough of him, and by the look in his eyes whenever they landed on her, he couldn’t either.

“You’ll show me what to do with my hands, right?” she asked innocently. With her pointer finger, she trailed a line all the way down his bare chest to the waistband of his pants. “And how tightly I need to…grip?”

He caught that stray hand by grabbing her wrist, bringing it up to his lips to put a kiss on her knuckles.

“Don’t be a tease, Nes. Not if you aren’t going to follow through,” he said in warning.

“And what are you going to do about it?” She knew she could only give him so much attitude before he eventually took things into his own hands. He was getting there, but not quite.

His eyebrows rose, still amused. “I could have sworn I fucked all the brattiness out of you last night. Seems I was mistaken. But by all means, keep doing what you’re doing—I’ll just be taking notes for later.”

She hummed, looking upwards and exposing her neck to him. “That was last night. I’m awake now.” She assessed him, pretending she’d come to some sort of conclusion before saying, “But, if you don’t think you’re up for it…”

She shrugged, closing the blanket around herself with her free hand.

He snarled slightly, nipping at her fingers before tugging her forward just an inch. “What did I say about not being a tease?”

She scoffed. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle me properly.”

That seemed to do it. The hazel vanished from his eyes almost entirely, leaving in its wake a black that looked near ready to devour her.

“Handle you properly,” he muttered to himself. 

He pulled her up in a swift movement, the blanket falling from her shoulders and exposing her to the cold air. “You remember that bed I built you? The one in our bedroom. I’m sure you know the one,” he said, his casual voice laced with something just a touch menacing. He leaned in to say into her ear, “You have one minute to get into it.”

---

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[rei-ismyname]

Cyclops earns Logan's respect through violence

The X-Men have just tangled with Proteus (and Moira, kinda) for the first time. It didn't go well, with Kurt and Logan feeling it the most after going through the looking glass. Logan is shutting down but Scott has an idea - insulting the fuck out of him. Really going to town emasculating, embarrassing, and provoking him into a fight. Are they lovers? Worse.

Scott knows what buttons to push. Chuck would be proud.

He figures he needs to speak Logan's language - toxic masculinity and ultraviolence. Kurt is like wtf are you doing? so Scott starts on him but it's in service of comparing him to Logan, accusing him of faking trauma.

Cyclops throws a drink in Wolverine's face and basically calls him a bitch, challenging him on their long rivalry. Logan takes the bait and stands up to fight. It's what Scott wanted but now he has to fight an angry and emasculated Wolverine. He keeps pushing him verbally during their fight, with his thought bubbles taking a very different tone. A judo flip and Logan is on his back, but he's up quickly and swinging to kill, bub.

Scott's shit talking intensifies, even as he's thinking about how difficult and dangerous this is. After framing the situation as 'man-to-man roughhousing' (so homoerotic) he moves to draw the other X-Men into the fight. There's a lot of drill sergeant vibes going on here, antagonising the team by giving them something to unite against. Scott flings Logan at Kurt, who is really not loving this at all.

'What's the matter shorty?' hits different

Banshee is wigging out, thinking they're going to kill each other - so he asks Colossus to break it up before someone dies. Jean knows what's going on, however, and tells them to stay out of it. Cyke is running rings around Logan, even reflecting an optic blast off Colossus to hit him from behind.

Woo, violence!

Kurt even speculates that Scott might be possessed, lol, so he tries to teleport in for a strike. Cyke has clearly played Space Invaders though, and he has his number, blasting him out of the sky.

With the others temporarily down, Ororo has finally had enough of this shit and she summons a lightning bolt as a warning. Cyclops plays possum a little then rolls into an optic blast right at her feet.

With three X-Men after him and more likely to join the fray (or just Storm getting serious) Scott quits while he's ahead, calling for peace. Logan especially doesn't think much of that notion until Scott and Jean explain. This was Scott leading and making sure the team was okay, Logan most of all.

Logan even opens up a little, admitting he was spooked. He says the obvious, that he hasn't thought much of Scott but is happy to concede he was wrong. I think Scott appreciates that more than he admits, and this is not the last time he'll have to fight all the X-Men. All that danger room training paid off. I could write a dozen essays on this issue but for now I'll just say it's an important one for the X-Men as a team as well as the Scott/Logan relationship.

I've never been in a paramilitary group, though I have had people try the tough love approach to my trauma. I don't speak to them anymore, because it's a messed up way to act. It's pretty satisfying here, and might even be the right decision. It's hard to argue with the results, but FR the X-Men all need therapy. Logan needs super therapy, or you know, to fight his friends every few months. This ISN'T Logan Behavior, not yet. It's messed up, but he's still a reasonable person at this point trying to be better. Havok and Polaris just watch without comment, which is kinda funny too.

[nmhdreamscape]

sharing is caring ✧ l.dh (valentine's gift series)

pairing | boyfriend!haechan x fem!reader

content | fluff, goofy, probably not what you're expecting with your prompt

word count | 531

request | haechan + 6

you were sat on your bed when haechan exited the bathroom. he was going out with the boys for a night out and had dressed appropriately. he was dressed in black slacks with a tight black knit turtle-neck, all paired with a pair of black boots. he looked absolutely delectable, you were watching him intently as he checked himself over in your vanity mirror. you slid off your bed to come up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist while he fastened his watch into place. you began pressing lazy kisses along the column of his neck, fingers drawing patterns on his abdomen. 

“what’s all this for?” he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips before going back to adding the finishing touches to his outfit. you resumed sloppily kissing his neck, pulling him closer into your embrace.

“you just look really good.” you murmured, pausing to truly look at his reflection in the mirror. he was looking back at you with a smirk. your gaze focused on the shirt he was wearing, you absolutely love it when he wore more tight fit clothes. something about the way they showed off his insane proportions drove you mad. it was new and you liked it.

“where did you get this, i don’t think i’ve seen it in your closet.” you mumble, playing with the hem. haechan straightened up at this, eyes now avoiding yours. that’s when it clicked in your head, the turtle-neck was awfully familiar. you leant forward to take a sniff of the shirt. that’s when you picked up on the faint smell of your own perfume. you turned your boyfriend to face you properly, looking down at the shirt you now thought was actually yours.

“wait. is that my shirt?” you asked, looking up at haechan with a narrowing gaze. a nervous smile now graced his lips, watching as your expression began to cloud with anger.

“uhhh… i think you mean our shirt.” he tried to dismiss with a joke, hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. it did nothing to ease the tension in your gaze, hands beginning to grip at his shoulders harshly. if haechan wanted to keep the shirt for the night, he knew he had to get out of there and quick.

“oh, would you look at the time! see you when i get home babe.” he rambled, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. that was enough to get your grip to loosen on his shoulders. with a swiftness you’ve rarely seen, he backed out of your hold, grabbing his phone and his wallet before dashing out of the room. you stood there shocked, not really knowing how to react.

“lee donghyuck you get back here right now!” you yelled after him, only to be met by the sound of the front door slamming shut. you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to fight the smile that was making its way onto your lips. these kinds of antics were part of the reason why you loved him, after all. though, you just might have to pay his favourite black shirt a visit for revenge.

valentine's gift masterlist

[cod-thoughts]

You call my bluff, how can I keep this up?

Word count: 1.2k

Relationships: implied GhostPrice

Tags: Very silly, inspired by art, Ghost is very down bad, they arent together yet

Part of a project that has a tiny explanation here. Keep reading under the cut!!

AN: This is a gift for the lovely @gomzdrawfr we barely know each other but i absolutely love your art it always brings me a lot of joy. This particular drawing hasnt left my mind since you've uploaded it and ive been dying to write for it so now i have. Happy valentines day! <33 Hopefully this doesnt freak you out my bad if it does 0_0

Simon Riley prided himself on discipline. A soldier’s mind was supposed to be sharp, focused, unwavering—trained to cut through distractions like a blade through fog.

Unfortunately, Ghost’s mind was none of those things at the moment.

Because right now, all he could think about was lifting his Captain.

It had started as a passing thought, one of those ridiculous notions that flit in and out of consciousness before being dismissed outright. But the problem—the real, pressing issue—was that he didn’t dismiss it. He let it linger. He let it take root.

And now? Now it was a full-blown fantasy.

Price wasn’t even doing anything particularly remarkable. He was just there, standing at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up, a cigar hanging lazily between his fingers as he pored over mission reports. The bastard didn’t even realise what he was doing, didn’t realise how profoundly, cosmically annoying it was that he looked so unbothered. So effortlessly composed. So fucking liftable.

Ghost flexed his fingers absently. He was pretty sure he could do it. No, scratch that—he knew he could do it. He’d been working out more lately, upping his deadlifts and bench press, and Price wasn’t that much heavier than the weights he’d been throwing around. Maybe a bit more solid in the middle, sure, but Ghost wasn’t about to let that stop him.

His mind supplied a vivid image of how it might go: him stepping up behind Price, arms looping around his waist before hoisting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing. He imagined the startled grunt Price would make, the way his cigar might tumble from his lips in sheer disbelief. Ghost would hold him there, suspended mid-air, feeling triumphant and smug as Price swore up a storm. Maybe even toss him over a shoulder for good measure.

A slow, creeping warmth spread through Ghost’s chest. Fuck, I really wanna do it.

And then the thought—the dangerous, irrational thought—took an even more deranged turn.

What if he just… buried his face in Price’s back? Just thunked his head against him like some oversized cat marking its territory? What if he just took a big inhale too? What if he just filled his lungs up with Price's intoxicating scent?

Ghost had seen videos of big cats rubbing against their handlers, knocking them around with sheer weight alone, and now the mental image of himself doing that to Price was seared into his mind. 

Would Price let him? Probably not. But maybe. If Ghost timed it right. If he made it quick enough, took advantage of Price’s soft spot for him.

Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?

He scrubbed a hand down his mask, barely resisting the urge to groan. He was losing his goddamn mind, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even ashamed of it. If anything, he was tempted.

Because it wasn’t just some unhinged urge—it was Price.

It was the way Price carried himself, all rough edges and commanding presence, but with the kind of warmth underneath that Ghost couldn’t look away from. It was the way he laughed, the rare deep rumble of it that made Ghost’s chest go tight. It was the way Price had a habit of standing too close, completely unaware of how much space he actually occupied in Ghost’s head.

It was the way Price had his little habits—how he’d run a hand down his beard when he was thinking, or the way he bounced when he was feeling restless, fingers gripping his vest. The way his accent thickened when he was particularly exasperated, or how his blue eyes sharpened when he was assessing a situation. Ghost could list a dozen things about the man that made his brain short-circuit, and not a single one of them had anything to do with the fact that Price was his superior officer.

He wasn’t just some bloke Ghost wanted to wrestle to the ground for fun. No, it was something worse, something worsebecause it came with an emotion Ghost didn’t quite have a name for but felt deep in his ribs whenever Price clapped a hand on his shoulder or called him ‘Simon.’

Ghost sighed and slouched further into his seat, arms crossed. Maybe if he just stopped looking at him—

“Yer makin’ that face again.”

Ghost stiffened, head snapping up. Price was looking at him now, one brow raised in amusement.

Shit.

“…What face?” Ghost asked, voice carefully neutral.

“The one where you’re plottin’ somethin’ daft.”

Ghost blinked. He was absolutely not making that face. He was making his normal, everyday blank expression. The same one that had struck fear into the hearts of enemy combatants for years. There was no fucking way Price could tell that, just moments ago, Ghost had been contemplating rubbing his head against him like an over-affectionate housecat. 

How he could even read Ghost's expression through the mask had always been a mystery. Price knew him too well, it should scare him but it doesn't, it never has. 

“I’m not plottin’ anything,” Ghost lied.

Price hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.” He turned back to his reports but didn’t drop the smirk. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

Ghost exhaled slowly. Disaster avoided.

And yet—and yet—

The urge still hadn’t left.

No, if anything, it had gotten worse. Because now, in the absence of fantasy, his brain had moved into problem-solving mode. Could he get away with it? Could he pull it off? If he were fast enough, if he caught Price off guard, maybe—

Ghost bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he needed to accept that this was just who he was now. A man consumed by the overwhelming, irrational desire to manhandle his Captain and fucking nuzzle him. A lost cause.

A complete and total, lost cause that was actively fighting for its life as Price casually stretched, arms rolling back, giving Ghost a perfect view of his broad shoulders and back flexing under the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost’s jaw clenched. His hand curled into a fist.

Get. A. Fucking. Grip.

“Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t involve me having to clean up any of your messes.” Price’s voice snapped him back to the present.

Ghost barely processed the words. All he could focus on was the fact that, when Price shifted in his seat, his damn jacket rode up just slightly, exposing a sliver of his back, displaying all the little moles and freckles and those two distinct dimples in his lower back that look perfect for his fingers to dig into and oh, for fuck's sake.  

Ghost clenched his fists. 

He was going to lose it.

He was actually going to lose it.

He had to get out of here before he did something insane. Like follow through on these godforsaken thoughts.

“Right,” Ghost muttered, pushing himself up from his chair a little too quickly, a little too stiffly. “Gotta… check on something.”

Price barely glanced up. “Mmhm.”

Ghost turned on his heel, marching toward the exit. He needed fresh air. He needed to not be in this room thinking about how catastrophically down bad he was.

As he reached the doorway, he heard Price’s voice again, this time tinged with unmistakable amusement.

“Oi, Ghost.”

Ghost paused but didn’t turn around.

“…If you’re thinkin’ about doin’ whatever it is you’re thinkin’ about doin’—” Price’s smirk was practically audible. “—I’d think about it first.”

Ghost didn’t respond. Just gritted his teeth and forced himself to step outside before he did something really stupid. He couldn’t move until the door shut behind him. He inhaled deeply, exhaled through his nose, and flexed his fingers at his sides.

Maybe, maybe he could let this ridiculous urge go. Maybe he could shove it back into the depths of his mind and act like a normal person.

…Or maybe, just maybe, he was gonna pick the perfect moment to put his theory to the test.

Because one day—one day—he was gonna lift that man.

And no force on earth was going to stop him.