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1kook · 3 years

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skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”

Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.

Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.

They were his favorite.

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.

He strikes while the iron is still hot.

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.

Kinda.

Probably.

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.

And then something unforgivable happens.

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.

Your hand.

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.

The sympathy doesn’t last long.

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.

There was never a choice.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #mine #skirtfic

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dreamydjarin · 3 years

Text

having a really awful week so here's a little fluffy thing. if you wanna be kind and leave a prompt in my inbox, please have at it!!!!

din djarin x reader (always gender neutral bc same! me!)

trudging along the flat dirt path, it was all you could do not to trip over gnarled tree roots sticking out of the ground at the edges of the trail. you were tired and the bag you were carrying was so full, it might topple you over if you didn't focus on putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright.

the only motivation to keep moving was the faint glint of the sunset reflecting off of the razor crest in the distance.

you had gone into town to replenish supplies on your own and gave your mandalorian some time to relax with the child for a change. he always claimed he wasn't tired but you knew him well enough by now to recognize the sound of his yawns he tried to hide behind the vocoder in his helmet. the two of you had grown close over the countless cycles and quarries, having saved each other's skins too many times not to be attached.

after one particularly grueling hunt, you'd collapsed against the wall of the hull upon returning, adrenaline starting to fade and a blaster shot in your side becoming evident. you were about to hit the floor when din had shot across the ship to catch you with a shout. when you'd slipped back into consciousness, he was holding your hand while the child slept curled into your side. before you could say a word, the stoic mandalorian was pressing his helmet to your knuckles as he praised what maker was listening that he could see your eyes again. you had been inseparable ever since, slowly becoming more intimate and connected to one another.

you had expected to find din and the kid outside, the mandalorian making repairs while the alien baby toddled around and ate any new creatures he could find - but no such luck. dropping the ramp from the cuff-style vambrace mando had made for you, you gently shifted your bag off your shoulder to set on the floor, turning your head to see if you could hear any noise coming from inside the ship.

your ears picked up a strange buzzing sound that furrowed your brow. you took a few steps into the crest before you saw signs of life and what you did see melted your heart.

din was slowly pacing across the hull of the crest with the child, bundled in his robes and blankets, and held against din's chest plate. what you'd heard was the sound of the mandalorian humming to the drowsy baby as he moved about and gently patted his back to help him fall asleep. the tune was something mando had caught you singing to the child countless nights ago, that he'd shyly asked you to sing it to him one night when his mind was too loud for him to rest.

it wasn't until your bag slipped from your hands and fell to the floor that your presence was known, making you slap your hand over your mouth to keep from waking grogu while din's helmet shot in your direction.

"i'm sorry!" you whispered as you slid the bag over to the side with a slight grimace, heaving a relieved sigh when you saw that the child hadn't woken up from your clumsiness. "i was just..."

"are you alright?" mando asked softly as he walked over towards you, shifting the babe under his arm and reaching out to run a finger along your jawbone. you nodded, preening under his touch and leaning into him.

"better now," you mumbled, looking up at him with a loving smile. "a lot better now." looking at the child bundled in your partner's arms, a rush of warmth ran through. home.

"come on, cyare," the mandalorian said quietly, moving his hand to the small of your back to lead you to bed. "time for sleep." you followed gladly, rubbing your eyes and fighting a yawn before getting into the bunk. you watched as your mando methodically took off each piece of armour, grabbing his cape and wrapping it around your shoulders.

"din? will you... hold me?" you asked quietly. he looked at you for a moment, head cocked, before flicking off the lights and laying his helmet to the side. he slid into the bunk beside you, careful not to squish you, and wrapped his arms around your middle.

"perfect," you breathed, smiling as you drifted off to sleep with your mando's lips pressed to your forehead.

#din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you

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ihatecoconut · 3 years

Text

to the newsies

“Ok.” Katherine was standing on someone’s bed and waving her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up idiots.”

Jack made an offended noise.

“Not you, Crutchie, you’re an angel and we’re glad you’re here.”

“You know,” Race said, kind of lazily from where he was sprawled out across the floor, “If someone had asked me when I first started remembering you guys who I thought would quote memes, my answer would not have been Kathy.”

There was laughter and agreement. Even Davey, who Race was pretty sure still felt out of place in their group despite having been there in the last century and now, laughed at that and made a comment about how he, personally, would have said Race.

“Are you listening or not?” Katherine demanded, once the noise had died back down,

“Yeah, babe,” Sarah called, “we’re listening.”

Katherine took a moment to smile lovingly down at her girlfriend. “Thank you, now, as I am sure you are all aware it is nearly 120 years since our successful strike!”

Apparently, most of the people in the lodging-house turned boy’s home were not aware of this fact, as the room erupted into shouts and confusion, most of the old newsies cheering at the fact that their impact had lasted that long, while others were just expressing their shock at how long it had been.

“In fact!” Katherine continued over the noise, “It will be exactly 120 years on Saturday!”

“What d’ya wanna do about it, Ace?” Jack called back.

“I think,” she replied at a more normal volume since the room had quietened back down to hear what she had to say, “that we should go on some sort of outing to visit everywhere that was important to us last time.”

“That’s really sweet.” Davey said, sounding a little surprised. “I like it.”

“Thank you.”

“Ok, it’s a fun idea,” Spot objected, “but I’m not walking all the way around New York, and I can’t afford the metro.”

“You used to walk all the way around New York,” someone near the back pointed out,

“And further.” Another voice added.

“I’ll pay for it.” Katherine announced, before Spot could get up and work out who was mocking him- she could see it was the twins from her vantage point but wasn’t about to tell him that- “It’ll be fun!”

There were a few other mumbled complaints, enough people were working Saturday that it was agreed they would move it to Sunday instead, and the group split at their normal time to return home- if they didn’t live at Kloppman’s- with their futures looking happy.

“Where do you think Kath’ll take us?” Les asked once they had dropped off those who lived at Denton’s and were continuing back to their own house.

“Newsies Square, to start with,” Sarah said, “I mean that’s the most obvious, right?”

Davey nodded, “I’d say the lodging house but most of them already live there, so maybe some selling spots?”

“That place we used to go for water?” Les suggested,

“Jacobi’s.” Davey provided absent mindedly, “Probably, that was where we kind of met her for the first time.”

“Brooklyn as well,” Sarah suggested, “For Spot and Racer, and because that was where she used to live.”

Davey nodded again, “I’m sure she’s got a plan, you know Kath, she’s organised like that.”

“Hey.” Race’s voice came through the phone as soon as Spot hit the answer button.

“Hey yourself, what’s up?” He found himself smiling as he rolled over to look at his boyfriend through the screen- they had only put that label on themselves recently and it still gave Spot an odd floaty feeling whenever he said or thought it.

“Just wanted to talk,” Race replied, grinning back and mirroring his position, lying down with the phone propped up next to him, “what d’ya think of Kath’s idea?”

“I like it.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Race paused, rubbing his nose like he did when he was nervous- it was a gesture that had replaced putting a cigar in his mouth and chewing it- “Hotshot said you still haven’t been back to Brooklyn.”

“So?”

“Well, Kath’s probably gonna take us to Brooklyn…”

Spot rolled onto his back, careful not to upset how he had positioned his phone, so Race could still see him, “Yeah, I know that.” He snapped, and then winced, not meaning to sound as harsh,

“And you’re ok?” Race prompted gently,

“I am.” He said, a little surprised at how true the word were, “I don’t like going to Brooklyn with Hotshot because I don’t feel like their king anymore and they want me to stay in that position…” He glanced over, seeing Race looking at him with nothing but understanding, “I ain’t him anymore.”

“Who are you then?”

“I’m Spot Conlon, I’m your boyfriend, I’m Denton’s kid, I’m Niamh’s brother, I’m…” He trailed off, about to say that he was a newsie, but that wasn’t quite true anymore.

“A newsie?” Race offered, “Because we still are, even if we don’t sell papes anymore.”

“Yeah, I’m a newsie. And I’m a dancer.”

Race laughed from the other end of the call, “Not as good a dancer as me.”

“Nobody’s as good as you, babe.”

“Hey, Jack?”

“What’s up, kid?” Jack asked, shifting over so Albert could fit in next to him.

“Do you think that Kath’s idea is a good one?”

“Yeah, of course, why?”

He shrugged, unhelpfully, “Don’t know. Do you think she’ll take us to the cemetery?”

Jack realised almost immediately what was troubling Albert- there were many cemeteries in New York city, but only one where both of Albert’s mothers (this time and last time) had been buried, Albert himself had been buried there as well, last time. Jack was pretty certain that the only person that had seen it, beside Albert himself of course, was Race.

“Do you want to go to the cemetery?” He asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

There was a pause and then Albert nodded, firmly, “Yes, I do.” He nodded again, red hair flopping about as if he was trying to convince both of them of this fact.

“Ok, then I’ll text her and make sure it’s on her agenda.”

“Thanks, Cowboy.”

“No problem, you gonna sleep here or back in your own bed?”

“Back in my own bed,” Albert replied, looking a little offended that Jack would think he needed that, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sure kid,” Jack laughed, dodging the pillow Albert proceeded to try and hit him with.

“We’re the same age!”

Sunday actually dawned bright and clear, despite the weather forecasts suggesting that it would rain all week.

Denton woke up everyone in his household- Hotshot, Smalls, Tommy Boy and Spot who lived there, and Sniper and Race who had stayed over- at just gone eight in the morning, resulting in six grumpy teenagers around the table at nine, fully dressed and eating breakfast.

“Alright,” he said as they were just about to leave, ignoring the way Spot groaned ‘not again’, “New York isn’t the best city ever, stay safe, listen to Katherine, don’t loose your money and keep phones out of the reach of pickpockets, everything clear?”

There was a dull chorus of “Yes Denton.” And he finally released them to make the trek across to Kloppman’s.

The Jacobs were already there when they arrived, making polite conversation with Kloppman, and drinking the coffee he provided, the coffee which Race immediately ran for after taking off his shoes. Kloppman simply shook his head at that- very used to Race’s antics after two lives of dealing with him- and gestured towards the cereal and other breakfast foods.

“We already ate,” Smalls told him, “And we already got a safety briefing from Denton before you do it too.”

Kloppman smiled at her, “I wouldn’t dream of telling you to be safe- Cowboy’d just ignore it anyway.”

As if on cue, Jack came stumbling down the stairs, thankfully fully dressed, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “I thought I heard people down here.” He said, plopping down at the table and pouring a bowl of cereal, “No Kath yet?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Davey scolded slightly, “And, to answer your question, no we haven’t seen Kath yet.”

“She just texted me,” Sarah said, looking as disgusted as her brother at Jack’s eating habits, “She’s on her way, should be about ten minutes.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, saw the looks on the twins’ faces, shut it, swallowed and then spoke, “I guess that means we’ve got ten minutes to wake everyone else up.”

Very soon after, the house descended into chaos as those of them who had been awake proceeded to move through the bedrooms, each using their own method to wake those unfortunate souls who were hoping to sleep in. Their unorthodox methods worked, however, and they were all packed into the kitchen when Kath arrived, the girls from Medda’s who had not slept at Denton’s with her.

“Let’s do this!” She announced to the kitchen, waving her list of places to visit, and- as if they had been awake for hours instead of mere minutes- everyone in the kitchen cheered loudly, shoving past each other to grab shoes and bags and anything else they had decided they needed for the day.

Davey had been right, the first stop on Kath’s itemised list was, in fact, Newsies’ Square. It had changed a lot since they had bought papers now, and their school was the building that had once been Pulitzer’s. The yard where Wiesel and the Delanceys had sold the papers was now the open area for the high school, and the buildings around had been modernised, re-painted or simply knocked down and rebuilt. The statue that Jack had climbed on to announce the beginning of their strike wasn’t there anymore, replaced with a small fountain. It was a little disappointing, but as most of them went to school there, they knew what had happened.

“Ey, Jack.” Race called, “Dare you to do your strike speech again.”

Jack waved him off, laughing among the calls for him to do it, and turned to Kath instead, “What’s next?”

Katherine just smiled mysteriously and led the way out. As it turned out, she had somehow managed to work out where each of their selling spots had been- everyone had their own spot in the 1890s, selling spots had been as much a part of newsies politics as their hierarchy within each borough. This part was much more popular than Newsies’ Square, with a few people actually crying when they saw the place they had spent their entire childhood last time. Some spots were almost the same as they had been a century ago, others had been built over and some had been a little destroyed, but they were instantly recognisable.

When they reached Jack, Davey and Les’ selling spot, Kath stopped again and consulted her list.

“We not going to Brooklyn now?” Race asked, “The rest of us sold there.”

“Later,” she reassured him, “I thought we’d do all of Manhattan first.”

“Alright,” Race said, apparently happy with her organisation, “Lead the way.”

They stopped at Jacobi’s for lunch, and unlike other parts of their history, this was a place that hadn’t changed- even Jacobi still ran the place, even if he didn’t seem to remember them, and he was as warm, fond, and utterly baffling as he had been before. The food hadn’t changed, even if the prices had adjusted with inflation, and they crowded around a table that wasn’t designed to hold that many people- Les sat under the table as he had always done when they had used it as a meeting house in the past, joined by a few other younger ones- but they made it work, sharing chairs and sitting on each other’s laps.

Davey found himself sitting on Jack’s lap, much to the amusement of his siblings, and managed to keep his blushing under control- they were still navigating their relationship in the 21st Century, it was different to the secret kissing in alleyways that they had done before- and despite being slightly too crowded, a little bit too warm and a little embarrassed, Davey was almost certain that nothing could ever be as perfect as it was just then.

Race danced on the table for them once lunch was finished, accompanied by a few others playing spoons. A few other customers laughed and clapped once they were done, but most of them gave the newsies looks that had them clearing out as soon as Katherine paid the bill, spilling out onto the street and laughingly mocking the lady who had told them they were ‘utterly uncivilized’.

Spot had an arm around Race’s waist in a possessive gesture that he never would have normally done, Jack had grabbed Davey’s hand as they had shoved past the younger ones to get out the door, and he could see others- Blink and Mush, Smalls and Sniper- also moving into gentle couples’ poses. The 21st Century had been good for all of them; there was enough food in their stomachs and they never had to worry about where their next meal was coming from, and they were all more open, more free than they had been when bound to the strict societal positions of the late 19th Century.

“Now,” Katherine said, beaming, “We go to Brooklyn!”

Racer and Hotshot both cheered; Spot didn’t, but his faced creased up into a smile that was very rarely seen, and the group of them followed after Kath.

It was nearly six in the evening when they finished, the group of them collapsing onto the grass in Prospect Park, a large tangle of limbs and happiness.

“Hey,” Spot said quietly into Katherine’s ear, having ended up right next to her, “thanks for this.”

She smiled back, “You’re welcome. I thought we might need this.”

He nodded and lay back down on his back, staring up at the clouds which were floating slowly overhead, a contrast to the hectic movement that their day had been.

“Kathy,” Jack said, leaning over Spot and Race, “we’ve still got one more stop, yeah?”

She nodded, “Back in Manhattan, yeah. We’ll rest first.”

Jack nodded in response, ignoring the puzzled looks that Race and Spot gave him, and pointing upwards at one of the clouds Spot had been watching. “That one looks like a fish.”

They left the younger ones- middle school and under- at the lodging house before they made their way to the final stop. The chatter from those who were still there died down as they approached the graveyard, nobody asked why they were there- Albert was leading and that gave most of them a good idea of what was happening. Davey and Sarah were confused, but they were polite enough not to ask.

“Trinity Church Cemetery.” Davey read as they went under the archway, still not asking questions, just stating facts.

“Trinity Church Cemetery.” Albert echoed from the front, as he moved through the stones, stepping towards a few small ones near the back. The rest of them followed him, fanning out behind him as he came a stop in front of a small plot of land that housed the DaSilva family- all generations of them, despite the fact that there were only a few marked graves.

He touched a small wooden cross first- obviously weathered and damaged by years of wind and rain- and then traced his fingers over the words on the small stone to the left of it. Race knelt down next to him, one hand sliding around Albert’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“His mother.” Jack said quietly, squeezing Davey’s hand unconsciously. “And from this life too.”

Katherine stepped forwards then, a few flowers in hand and placed them on the two graves. Albert smiled, a watery smile, but a smile none the less and they stood as a group until he turned back to the entrance.

“Thank you.” He said once they were back out on the street, “For coming with me.”

“Anything you need.” Davey replied, sliding an arm around him in a similar, but much more paternal way than Race had done. “We’re here for you.”

Someone had ordered pizza to the lodging house once they got back, Les and Crutchie had apparently made sure to save some for them, and they dug in with the expected vigour of teenagers who had been walking around all day.

Sarah climbed up onto the bed that Katherine had used only a few days prior to announce her idea and tapped a teaspoon against the coffee mug she was holding. “Attention, please.”

They all turned to her, some still eating, but all listening.

“I want to thank Katherine for taking us out on this trip. I think we all needed it.”

“To Katherine!” Blink shouted, raising his glass, and the rest of the room echoed him, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and mug knocking together.

Sarah climbed back down to sit between her brother and her girlfriend. “To the newsies.”

They both smiled at her, “To the newsies.”

#writing #writer #writers #my writing #writblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #the newsboys #newsies fanfiction #newsies fandom #sprace #javey #javid #newsbians

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broomballkraken · 3 years

Link

Title: An Unrivaled Love

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing(s): Sylvain/Lorenz

Word count: 1685

Warnings: N/A

Summary: 50 sentences of Sylvain and Lorenz

#01: Air

It was an amazing thing, Lorenz mused, that something as insignificant as Sylvain showing him a genuine smile was enough to knock the air from his lungs like he had been punched right in the gut.

#02: Apples

Sylvain tossed the half-eaten apple at Lorenz as he turned around, and Lorenz took a bite, secretly hoping to get a lingering taste of Sylvain among the sweetness of the fruit.

#03: Beginning

From the moment they met, Lorenz had a feeling that Sylvain would become a thorn in his side, but he of all people should have known that thorns can be accompanied by something quite beautiful.

#04: Bugs

“Get back here Sylvain!” Lorenz screeched, and Sylvain only barely managed to dodge the huge cockroach that was thrown at his head as he ran for his life.

#05: Coffee

“Coffee? Ugh, what an awful, bitter drink!” Sylvain agreed with Lorenz on something for once, but he would never actually admit it.

#06: Dark

“C’mon babe, it’s still dark outside…” Lorenz hesitated a moment, but he quickly decided that his morning routine could be delayed a bit, and he sunk back into his lover’s warm embrace.

#07: Despair

As Sylvain finally recognized the enemy dark knight - by his hair, colored a unique shade of purple that he had only seen once in his life - a feeling of despair that Sylvain had never felt before settled deep in his gut as he gripped his lance with a ghost-white hand.

#08: Doors

“Are you coming, darling?” Sylvain smiled and nodded as he placed his hand in Lorenz’s, letting his husband pull him through the door of their new home.

#09: Drink

After making the mistake of letting Sylvain out of his sight for far too long at the tavern, Lorenz struggled to support him on the way home as Sylvain blabbered on in a drunken stupor about how much he loved him.

#10: Duty

Lorenz knew that it was part of his duty to find a noble woman to marry, but as Sylvain shifted against his chest while he slept, Lorenz was highly considering telling his father to fuck off.

#11: End

With the final blow stuck, the war had finally come to an end, but Sylvain and Lorenz knew that this was only the beginning for them as they ran across the battlefield into each other’s embrace.

#12: Fall

“You’re supposed to stay on the horse, you know-” Lorenz rolled his eyes and cut Sylvain off by grabbing his arm and yanking him to the ground with him.

#13: Fear

Sylvain had never known a fear so terrifying as what he felt when he saw Lorenz fall from his horse, his shoulder and gut pierced by one arrow each.

#14: Fire

Sylvain hated the fact that Lorenz was better at magic than him, but what he hated even more was how beautiful the reflection of the flames looked mingled with the amethyst color of his eyes.

#15: Flexible

After making the horrible mistake of claiming to be more flexible than Lorenz, Sylvain was begrudgingly grateful that his rival at least had the decency to help him get to the infirmary.

#16: Flying

Lorenz was supportive of Sylvain trying out wyvern riding, but as he clung to his lover’s back for dear life while their giant draconic mount soared through the sky, he was greatly reconsidering this particular method of support.

#17: Food

“Hm, Fish and Bean Soup? As much as I loath to say it, you have impeccable taste, Sylvain.”

#18: Foot

Sylvain winced as Lorenz gently tended to his wounded foot, and even as he was being scolded for moving too much, Sylvain couldn’t help but crack a smile when he noticed the look of worry in Lorenz’s eyes.

#19: Gift

Sylvain’s initial shock when Lorenz got down on one knee in front of him with a ring quickly melted away and was replaced with amusement as he followed suit.

#20: Grave

Every time Sylvain left a rose at the weather-worn grave, he also left a piece of his completely shattered heart with it.

#21: Head

“Gods, I must have been dropped on my head as a child if I’m falling for you of all people.”

#22: Hollow

As he gazed out the window of the Gloucester Estate, Lorenz couldn’t help but wonder if these five years of war had left Sylvain feeling as hollow as he did.

#23: Honor

‘An honorable noble would not leave someone to face their despair alone,’ Lorenz told himself as he knocked on the door to Sylvain’s room.

#24: Hope

“When I look at you, my darling, and see how much love you harbor for me in your eyes, it gives me hope that we will both make it through this war, together.”

#25: Light

“You’ve always been a light in my life, Sylvain. Yes, even when we used to fight all the time, because those encounters allowed me to get close to you, and to fall completely and utterly in love with you.”

#26: Lost

Sylvain had felt lost when he returned to Garrag Mach to reunite with his class, but when he met Lorenz atop the Goddess Tower to exchange apologies, complements, and a few passionate, inexplicable kisses, Sylvain felt like he was finally being steered in the right direction.

#27: Metal

The jarring sound of metal striking metal rang throughout the training grounds, and as Sylvain’s eyes locked with those of his heated rival, a much different kind of heat sparked to life deep within his chest.

#28: New

This parenting thing was new, and a cause of slight anxiety, for the both of them, but when they saw the looks of pure joy on their adopted daughter and son’s faces when they brought them home, Sylvain and Lorenz knew that this would be the best decision that they would make together.

#29: Old

After 40 long years together, even though their hair had grayed and skin wrinkled, Sylvain and Lorenz still thought of each other as the most beautiful person they had ever known, and will ever know.

#30: Peace

Every time Lorenz stared deep and lovingly into his eyes before kissing him tenderly, Sylvain was overwhelmed with a sense of peace that he would never get anywhere else.

#31: Pretty

"Your eyes, they're just...gods damn it, you have the prettiest fucking eyes that I've ever seen, Lorenz!"

#32: Pride

“This is my life, Father, and I will not let you dictate how I live it any longer!” As Count Gloucester’s face contorted with unbridled rage, Sylvain had never felt more proud of his fiancé.

#33: Rain

Lorenz used to hate getting caught in the rain, but after a sudden downpour forced him and Sylvain to take shelter and gave them a rare moment of respite, he decided that he actually didn’t mind it as much after all.

#34: Regret

“My greatest regret...is that I never got to tell you how I feel about you, Sylvain,” Lorenz said as he raised his lance, and the blood drained from Sylvain’s face.

#35: Roses

They say that every rose has its thorn, but for Lorenz, Sylvain would take the risk of being pricked.

#36: Secret

“You really thought it was a secret? Oh please, just taking one look at you two together told us all we needed to know.” Hilda just laughed as Lorenz buried his beet-red face in his hands.

#37: Sickness

Lorenz was insufferable to be around when sick, but when a shaky, clammy hand slipped into Sylvain’s as he dabbed the sweat from his husband’s forehead, any annoyance he might have been feeling melted away to be replaced with an incredible fondness.

#38: Smile

“I love you!” Sylvain’s bold declaration came out in a desperate shout, and his eyes welled up with tears when Lorenz’s first reaction was to smile.

#39: Snow

Sylvain couldn’t tell if Lorenz’s face was so red because of the cold or embarrassment, but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he dodged the snowball thrown his way in retaliation.

#40: Soft

Lorenz was just as much of a battle-hardened warrior as Sylvain was, and yet, as they lay tangled in bed together, Sylvain had never felt such a soft feeling as when Lorenz skin was pressed against his own.

#41: Solid

When confronted by their fathers' opposition to their relationship, Sylvain and Lorenz realized that they had a pretty solid foundation built when they both simultaneously told them to fuck off.

#42: Spring

Spring was the season of love, something Sylvain was normally a self-proclaimed ‘expert’ at, but he didn’t really know what to make of these newfound feelings for his longtime rival.

#43: Stable

“Remember that one time, in the stables? Man, if Ferdinand would have caught us, we would have never heard the end of it!”

#44: Strange

Claude glanced up briefly from the maps that he was studying as Lorenz and Sylvain passed by, and he swore that he would never get used to the strange sight of those two holding hands.

#45: Summer

Summer was becoming one of Sylvain’s favorite seasons, because almost every morning he would find a beautiful bouquet of flowers left for him, carefully picked from his husband’s own garden.

#46: War

On mornings when Sylvain was lucky enough to wake up wrapped in Lorenz’s arms, the war seemed like it was a million miles away.

#47: Water

“Next time, maybe you should snag a smaller fish,” Sylvain said, laughing as he brushed Lorenz’s soaking-wet hair out of his pouting face.

#48: Whisper

Slender, practiced fingers traced over Sylvain’s overheated skin as Lorenz whispered his name, and that alone was enough to undo Sylvain completely.

#49: Wind

The soft breeze blowing passed the Goddess Tower gently tousled Lorenz’s hair, and Sylvain did not - could not - tear his eyes away from the beautiful sight.

#50: Winter

Sylvain was accustomed to the chill of winter, but Lorenz was not, and Sylvain took advantage of this fact to spend each and every cold morning basking in the warmth of their entwined bodies.

#fire emblem three houses #lorenz hellman gloucester #sylvain jose gautier #sylorenz #50 sentences #fanfiction #jade writes fanfiction

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madcapmyth · 4 years

Text

The Calm & The Storm

Short fluffy kinda drabble between my BPRD/Hellboy sona, Agent Arius, and Kroenen. Pls note that I use a weird combo of movie! and comic!Kroenen for him. Mainly because I want him to be able to talk but I love his movie design lol.

------

Thunder cracked outside, its rumble heard throughout the base. In particular near the landing pad, where Arius was pacing. Kroenen stood off to the side, waiting for his boyfriend to stop. The pacing however, got worse. Arius dropped to his knees, screaming and clawing at his hair and neck. This caused Kroenen to rush over, running his right hand, his flesh hand, gently over Arius's back and shoulders. Undoing his mask with his left hand, he let it fall into his lap as he pulled his glove off his clockwork hand with his teeth. The small gears spun and twirled as he flexed his hand. He gently guided Arius to look at him, to look at the gears in his mechanical hand.

Agent Arius's anxiety had been spiking and getting worse for the last twenty to thirty minutes. Each passing minute meant he was more likely to involuntarily change his form.

Kroenen felt large boney bumps form under his right hand, under Arius's skin. The usual techniques weren't working, and Arius hates to be drugged out. Makes him feel rotten the following day, after he wakes up, he says.

The sound of fabric starting to tear reached Arius's ears. He groaned, upset he was losing another shirt. He was thankful he was already barefoot, as he did not want to put in the requisition forms for another pair of combat boots. It would have made 6 pairs these past 2 and a half months. At least he has a stockpile of shirts.

Wing arms burst out from his back, skin shredding and a bit of blood trickling down his body. The blood soaked into the torn remnants of his shirt. The skin between the fingers of the wings crept in slowly, as he stretched his wings to feel the howling wind coming in from the mountains. His tail slithered down and the spade brushed the cold metal and concrete of the landing deck. Large talons flexed as he paced, clicking with each step.

Looking at his boyfriend, Arius's now purple eyes started to well up with tears. Kroenen placed a gentle hand on Arius's wing, rubbing lightly.

"Do you want me to keep doing this?"

"Yeah its kinda-"

"OY PURPLE!" A deep voice bellowed. "We heard you screaming, what the hell happened?!" Hellboy ran towards Arius, before stopping once he saw Kroenen standing there. Golden eyes narrowed, as Hellboy spoke in an accusatory tone.

"Its all dust boy's fault isn't it?! He got your anxiety up?"

"Hellboy no-"

"I'm gonna fuckin wreck him-"

"IT WASN'T KROENEN'S FAULT!" Arius screamed, causing Hellboy to stop his advance. Other agents popped up the stairs to see what was causing the ruckus.

"Whadda mean, it wasn't his fault?! That creep has his hands on ya!"

"He was trying to calm me down, Red. Our usual calm down methods weren't working and he decided to try something new. And it might have worked! Until you had to stomp up here and yell and bitch about my boyfriend!" Arius snapped, wings flaring out behind him and tail lashing from side to side. "Maybe you should stop treating every problem like one of your missions! You don't have to dive headfirst into trouble, especially when there is no trouble!"

Kroenen bent down to scoop up his mask and gloves. Lidless eyes bored into Hellboy's own eyes, making him avert his gaze to the mountains. Arius grabbed Kroenen's hand, and started marching towards the interior of the BPRD compound.

"Now if you'll excuse us, I've got some calming down to do."

"Fine..." he grumbled. Hellboy stood stock still, his own tail barely swishing side to side.

Back inside the compound, and back inside the room he and Kroenen shared, Arius stripped off the remaining tatters of his shirt. He sighed, pulling another one out of his closet and placing it on his dresser for when he shifted back. The man made demon flopped onto the bed, sighing deeply.

Kroenen slid in behind him, pressing his mask against Arius's neck, making him jump slightly.

"Babe don't, I'm already cold enough." Arius lightly grumbled, pulling the blanket up and over the two of them. The two lay in silence, with only the ticking of Kroenen's clockwork heart just barely audible.

"I'm proud of you, Arius." Kroenen's voice was dry and hoarse, as it always was, but there was no mistaking what he said.

"Why.... I'm still anxious, I'm shaking..." Arius muttered.

"You stood up for us. To Hellboy. You've been scared more and more to stand up for yourself even ever since I came here. That was a big step you took and I'm proud that you did."

Arius flipped over in Kroenen's arms, facing the masked being. Reaching up with clawed fingers, he gently undid the straps of the mask. Pulling it off, he placed it on the bedside table. Gazing at Kroenen, Arius planted a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's nose scar.

"Thank you, Kroenen. I.... I don't know where I'd be without you some days."

"On that note, look! You're shifting back. Your eyes are blue again and your hair is back to blond." Arius sat bolt upright and looked in the dresser mirror, and saw his skin fading back to it's normal pale tone, his horns and wings retreating into his body once more. The tail was a bit more stubborn, almost as if it had a mind of its own, but after a minute or so, it too disappeared.

"Hey Kroenen?" Kroenen cocked his head to the side in curiosity of what Arius was going to say. "Maybe we should cuddle more often."

He chuckled, a dry, raspy noise. "Yes, perhaps we should." He said, wrapping his arms around Arius and pulling him back down into the bed.

"Sleep now. You're gonna be starving when you wake up." Kroenen advised, to which Arius just nodded, yawning as he did so.

"Gute nacht, liebling." Kroenen whispered.

#ship fic #ship #hellboyship #kroenen x oc #kroenen #ashes to ashes #agent arius #writing #short story #drabble #fluff #my writing #writing posts

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antiquecompass · 4 years

Text

Another Wen Ning/Aidan fic, this one set a few years after this others, for Untamed Winter Fest Day 19: Snow

“SNOW DAY!”

Wen Ning shot up in bed, woken not by his alarm but by Finn Delaney’s best example of his outdoor voice.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Aidan muttered into his pillow.

Wen Ning patted his boyfriend’s back with one hand and reached over to check his phone with the other. The text he found there showed that it was, in fact, a rare Lan Academy snow day. He wasn’t entirely surprised. It was six in the morning, Aidan had only been home for two hours. He’d just finished a 48-hour shift, having spent the night responding to emergency calls, helping out all the other First Responders in their own and the surrounding counties. Even hard born and bred Massholes had to bow down to Mother Nature on the rare occasion. Even Lan Academy had to as well.

“Go back to sleep,” he said as he slipped out of bed.

“I’m awake now,” Aidan said.

Wen Ning forcibly pushed Aidan back into bed. “You spent the night responding to accidents and helping dig cars out of snowbanks. You’re exhausted. Go back to sleep.”

“But--”

“Sleep,” he said. He pulled the blankets up and tucked them tight around Aidan. “You know you have to sleep while you can. You should’ve stayed at the station.”

“I wanted to see you,” Aidan said.

So sweet and so sincere. Wen Ning kissed his forehead. “I love you and I appreciate it, but now I’m going to have to dig your truck out so you can get back on the road.”

“Did you just politely call me a dumbass?” Aidan asked.

Wen Ning kissed his forehead again and started towards the hallway.

“Ning!”

He laughed as he closed the door behind him and stopped Finn’s latest attempt to announce to the entirely of Western Massachusetts that it was a snow day.

“Since you’re up, you can help me dig out your brother’s car.”

“Coach!” Finn whined. “It’s a snow day!”

“I’ll make you pancakes after,” he said.

Finn eyed him with that typical Delaney ‘I Smell Bullshit’ face, but Wen Ning knew his pancakes were a worthy bribe.

“With chocolate chips?” Finn asked.

Wen Ning pretended to think about it. “I’ll consider it. Depends on how well you work. Good work gets chocolate chips. Half-assing gets you frozen waffles.”

“Deal,” Finn said.

Una opened her bedroom door, hair still wet from her shower, voice still stuffy from her current cold. “How can I get pancakes?”

“Start gathering all the supplies to make chilli for the station,” he said.

He knocked on Aisling’s door. She opened it, already in her winter gear, minus her boots.

“I’m preparing for the snow battle that will commence at Noon,” she said. “Though I am willing to help dig the cars out if it gets me pancakes.”

“Go forth, Conquering Hero,” he said.

Una shook her head. “Poor Jasmine Lan is about to get her ass handed to her.”

Wen Ning laughed. “You’ve heard of the Lan Arm Strength, yes?”

Una scoffed. “You’ve heard of the Delaney Sheer Stubbornness, yes?”

She had a point there. It was partly responsible for how he'd ended up here, in this house, far ahead of what he’d considered his own personal move-in schedule.

It was going to be an interesting day.

The crews at the station usually took care of their own food, stopping by the grocery store to buy what they needed for the shared meals. On days like today, they didn’t always have the time and while normally one of the local places would provide sandwiches, even they were closed down. They usually had leftovers to tide them over, but Wen Ning had gotten used to making batches of chilli large enough to feed a small army.

He also knew Aidan wasn’t supposed to go in today, since he just had his shift day, but blizzards didn’t care about scheduled days off and as long as Aidan had twelve hours away from the station, he’d be back.

So as Noon came, and the chilli was in the pot, and Chris Delaney emerged from his part of the house, mumbled something about deadlines, grabbed an entire bowl of coffee and disappeared back into his room, and the battle between Lan Jasmine and Aisling Delaney commenced, Wen Ning sat on their back porch and recorded it all, letting Aidan sleep on.

“My money’s on Aisling,” Una said. “She’s got that accuracy going.”

“Jasmine all the way,” Finn said. “I’ve seen her throw knives.”

Wen Ning’s money was on a draw. Either way, it was cute to see the girls trying to out-impress each other in feats of strength and physical accuracy as a method of flirting. It reminded him of a more than a few of his friends.

He quietly sipped his hot chocolate as Una whistled to signal the start of the next match.

The living room was full of passed out teenagers, exhausted from acting like little kids in the snow and gorging themselves on food and hot drinks. Wen Ning was in the middle of finishing the dishes when he heard Aidan stumble down the stairs, punchdrunk from hours of uninterrupted sleep.

He had maybe, possibly, definitely stolen Aidan’s phone in order to achieve this rare feat of much-needed rest.

Aidan emerged with some adorable bedhead and Mr. Tumnus in his arms.

He placed their cat down and pulled Wen Ning into his arms, resting against him.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Nearly three,” Wen Ning said.

“Fuck me, that’s late,” Aidan muttered into Wen Ning’s shoulder.

“You needed the rest,” Wen Ning insisted as he drew Aidan over to their breakfast nook. “And the dispatchers knew it because no one has tried to call before now.”

“Hmm,” Aidan agreed.

He wrapped his arms around Wen Ning, resting his head on his chest. Wen Ning ran his fingers through Aidan’s curls. It was a cherished quiet, peaceful moment. Chris still busy with work, the sound of his music muffled as he worked on the lineart for his current comic. The Trio and their friends napping off their snow battle. The snow still falling outside. Mr. Tumnus quietly purring as he ate his food. And Aidan in his arms, still lax and loopy from sleep.

“I can’t wait for our vacation,” Aidan said. “You. Me. A nice, private hotel room. No snow. No interruptions.”

Wen Ning tilted his chin up and met his lips in a soft kiss.

“We’ll get there,” he promised. “We just have to get through the New Year first.”

Headmaster Lan had been very understanding about why Wen Ning needed an additional week of vacation. He’d somehow convinced both Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen to be substitute teachers for a week. Wen Ning was sure he’d come back to entire classes converted into fencing or dance students.

They just needed to get through the New Year. He was counting down the days. They even had a back-up plan if their flight got canceled or delayed. Either they’d be in the Caribbean or they’d be staying at home. Either way, they’d be together.

Aidan’s phone started going off and their little bubble broke. Aidan’s shoulders dropped even as he reached for his phone.

Wen Ning stepped out of his arms and went to start another pot of coffee and to get the chilli ready for transport.

There were a lot of unique stressors to dating a firefighter. And Aidan had been upfront about it from the start, warned him, made him understand that while it wasn’t as busy as Boston, he’d had less crewmembers here to help cover shifts. The hours were horrible, Wen Ning had never realized how bad until after they’d been dating long enough and he had to witness Aidan trying to act like a normal, functioning human being after a 24-hour shift and three hours of uninterrupted rest. There was the fact that work came home with them, how could it not, some of the things they saw. And plans, life, everything had to be flexible, because days off suddenly disappeared and everyone else’s holidays were not your own.

But Wen Ning couldn’t imagine loving anyone else as he loved the man currently giving the dispatcher an earful as he tried to head towards the door, still barely awake.

“Aidan,” he called after him.

“Yeah, babe?” Aidan asked.

“As much as I’m sure our neighbors will delight in you going out in nothing but your boxers and boots, you might want to get dressed first.”

“Shit,” Aidan said. He pulled his phone away from his ear where the loud laughter could be heard. “I’m never going to live this one down.”

Wen Ning poured a mug of coffee, shoved it in Aidan’s hands and took the phone.

“Orlando?” he asked.

“Ning! My man! How’s my favorite archer?”

“Asking you to please not give Aidan any more shit. He just woke-up. You know how he is when his brain is still offline.”

“Only for you Coach Ning. Only for you. Hey, any chance you can send any--”

“He’ll be bringing a pot of chilli with him,” Wen Ning said.

“I will?” Aidan asked.

“You will,” Wen Ning said as he pushed him towards the stairs. “Go get dressed before I text Orlando a picture to put up on the bulletin board.”

“Please do!” Orlando said.

“Fuck no,” Aidan said as he grabbed his phone back. He kissed Wen Ning. “Love you,” he said, low.

Orlando still heard him.

“When are you going to marry him?” Orlando asked. “Come on, betting pool’s getting large and I need a new phone. Give me a hint. Just one.”

“How about fuck off,” Aidan said as he climbed the stairs.

Wen Ning shook his head as he watched him go, then went back to the kitchen, just in time to hear the Trio wake-up.

His life was overcome with Delaneys these days, but he loved it.

#long post #my ridic writing #verse: lahl #fic: river deep mountain high #fandom: the untamed #untamed winter fest #wen ning

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littlemeowmeowschimmy · 5 years

Text

I Want A Baby [BTS Reactions]

Hell yeah, lets get it. I’ve been having baby fever for awhile now

Requests opened!

Genre: Comedy // Fluff

master list

Kim Namjoon

credit: bangtanya

You crawled your way onto Namjoon’s lap while he was writing some music for the upcoming album. He scrunched his eyebrows together confused as to why you were crawling your way onto him. He tilts his head just a little to the side, watching you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“What’s this?” he questions pausing almost immediately to give you the attention that you needed. You lean forwards, pressing kisses against his neck as you wanted to start up some kind of mood with him. This strong urge to have a baby was starting to to creep upon you.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Namjoon questions tilting his head just a little to the side as he wanted to know what you were doing exactly before get joined in.

“I want a baby.” You paused whispering against his skin. When Namjoon heard this he froze in his spot, which you felt. He got stiff and you were slightly worried about telling him you wanted a baby. You slowly move yourself away from his neck, looking back at your boyfriend as he was trying to process the information.

You reached out to touch his cheek gently, his eyes instantly moving to glance at your fingers as his eyebrows scrunched up. He then brought his hand up to take your wrist in his grip as he took in a deep breath and then released it shortly afterwards.

“Are you sure you want a child?” Namjoon questions making sure you where thinking things through rationally. This relationship with Namjoon had only been going on for shortly over three years, yet he hadn’t married you yet. Maybe having a child before marriage wasn’t the best idea, however you couldn’t help but want one.

Namjoon saw you struggled with trying to figure out what you wanted. He gave you a soft expression while bringing your hand up to kiss the inside of your palm. You noticed this kind gesture, stopping you in your thoughts as you tilted your head just a little to the side.

“Let’s discuss more in detail later tonight over dinner alright? But I think it’s a great idea.”

Kim Seokjin

credit: phanhmacarena

The television was bright and blaring sound as you and Jin were cuddling on the couch. You folded your legs up to your chest while you held your takeout in between your stomach and legs as you brought the chopsticks up. The movie you collectively decided to watch was a comedy but you completely forgot the title to it.

It was more of Jin’s decision because he had somewhat of a rough day. He wanted to spend sometime with you before heading off to bed which seemed like a natural thing for him to do. Weekends were usually the days were you and Jin made up for times that you missed during the week. Jin often expressed that he wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could so that he could make it up to you.

When the commercial break came on, the first ad was for a diaper company. The thought crossed your mind yet you blurted out soon afterwards that you wanted a child with him. That was after setting your chops sticks down as your face scrunched up in thought. Jin blinked a couple of times, then choked on his food as he heard your confession.

You were concerned for him as you instantly moved your body to face him. He was pounding his fist on his chest as he was trying to get some oxygen. Your eyebrows scrunched together as one hand came out to gently place on his shoulder. Jin coughed afterwards, cleared his throat then turned to look at you.

His eyes were slightly watery from before and his cheeks were flushed. He glances at you then laughs a little. This reaction to him choking was shocking for you, however it helped to lighten the mood. You laughed along with him as he was trying to process the information.

“You really want a child.”

“Yes.” Jin pauses for another second, turning back towards the television as the movie had come back on. He set his halfway empty box down, then turned his attention towards you. He brings his hand forwards to take your chin in between his index and thumb, brushing his thumb against your skin as he was thinking about his answer.

“I wouldn’t mind a little sprite running around the apartment..”

Min Yoongi

credit: kikatdokookie

You had somehow convinced Yoongi to come to the gym with you on one of his off days. Normally he would want to cuddle with you, sleep all day, and probably eat something during his periods of naps. Today you figured that it would be a good decision to get out of the apartment and do something with Yoongi.

One of the first things was to go to the gym for an hour or so in order to get your muscles and body warmed up. Yoongi wasn’t very pleased with this, but he wasn’t going to argue with you. Considering that he too wanted to get into shape, but not enough where his stylist would yell at him because his clothes weren’t fitting.

You started off with stretches per-usual. Getting your body loose so that it would be easier to work out. During this, Yoongi would help you and vise versa. As you looked around, you noticed a trainer with a pregnant lady. You knew she was pregnant because you could hear her discuss about how many weeks she was into her pregnancy.

Which brought you to the interesting thought of having a child with Yoongi. You couldn’t help but flush a little at the thought as you pushed on his legs a little harder, which caused retaliation from your boyfriend as he didn’t like the force.

“We should have a child.” You mentioned then paused again as then you clarified,”No I want a child.” Yoongi was lying on the ground with his legs totally in your control as he was starting to get uncomfortable. He groans a little, pushing back on your strength since he didn’t want to be uncomfortable anymore.

“Can we not think about this [Y/N]? C’mon my fucking legs,” he curses sending you to immediately come out of your thoughts. You move yourself back so that Yoongi could get up so he could look up from a sitting position instead of a lying down position. He took a deep breath in, pushing some of his bangs back as he then finally answers him.

“We’ll talk about this when we get back I promise. I want a kid too, but right now don’t try and kill me.”

Jung Hoseok

credit: bts-attack

Hoseok was teaching some of the new moves that he learned just the other day. He wanted to show you how much he learned and how excited he had become over it. Amusingly enough, you kept falling over or taking it in a quick pace. Just because you wanted to keep up with him and he found it all to be cute. He looked over at you, shaking his head a little as you took a break.

You were sprawled out on the ground, taking deep breaths in and out as sweat was building and the room seemed hotter than normal. As you were sitting there, you started to crawl back into the thought process you had tried to forget from earlier. It had become extremely apparent that you wanted to start a family with Hoseok, as quickly as you could.

You weren’t getting any older, and the prime time for having children was starting to lesson. It would be difficult to have a child because of how busy Hoseok was becoming with Bangtan. He was working his ass off everyday and you could really only see him late at nights. That’s when everyone returned back to the dorms to wash up for the day.

You rolled over when Hoseok suggested that it would be time to start again. You groaned, your muscles starting to ache and you instantly knew that you’d feel this in the morning. As you were moving up, Hoseok walked over to help you up. As you locked eye contact with him, something sparked inside and what you were thinking about came out.

“I want a baby.” What happened next was like a blur. At first you were on your way to getting back up, then you were flat on the ground groaning. Hoseok had somehow dropped you when you confessed to him and you paid the price by landing on your face.

Hoseok curses under his breath instantly, blinking out of whatever state he was in so that he could take care of you. He rolls you over, rubbing your forehead, cheeks, then nose in order to try and take the pain away. Your face scrunches because you didn’t want him touching you, but you could understand why he was doing it.

He was trying to figure out why you wanted a child all of a sudden. He wanted to know why you wanted to bring it up suddenly, but he didn’t want to ask too many questions. Mainly because he didn’t want to make you feel awful for thinking about such a cute idea.

“I think we should discuss this when we’re both not sweating to death.” Hoseok mentions reaching out to touch your cheek gently while he gives you a soft expression.

“But I wouldn’t be against having a child.”

Park Jimin

credit: cilajaeyoung

Jimin was softly singing Serendipity to you as his fingers carefully move themselves along your skin. You smile a little at his soft gestures, closing your eyes as you listen to him sing to you. The sun was coming in since he had to wake up early for work, however he wanted to be just a little late because he valued spending more time with you than anything else.

You usually slept naked with Jimin because of the skin to skin contact was a bonding method for the relationship. You both felt that it brought you closer in ways that you couldn’t explain to one another. Jimin moves himself in, pressing his face against your shoulder blades.

His breath hit your skin, causing goosebumps to trail wherever his breath hit. You shivered slightly, still cold from the covers being pulled back to your navel. Jimin’s singing didn’t stop as he presses against you. The moment itself was cute and something you wouldn’t forget, especially since you were thinking about your future with Jimin.

“Just let me love you,” Jimin sings planting a kiss after every ‘Let me love you’ on your skin. Making you flush slightly to the statement. You rolls yourself over to look at Jimin, his shifting from your breasts and then your eyes. Causing both of you to smile at each other.

“Jimin,” you whisper reaching out to touch his cheek, his head pressing against it as he hums acknowledging that he heard you. “I..I want a baby.” you hesitate noting that you had never brought up the fact that you wanted to start a family with him. Yeah, there was conversations about marriage and potentially a family in the mere future.

But it was never as full on conversation. It was only Jimin agreeing to you whenever you pointed out something cute, or when Jimin sent you a text message of something adorable. Jimin closes his eyes for a second in thought, laughs a little to himself as something crosses his mind. You didn’t know exactly what he was laughing about, but it soon became apparent as he moves to hoover over you.

You watched as Jimin gently presses your back against the bed, his body moving up and over so both hands were on either side of your shoulders. His legs spread and he presses his knees against your hips, a toothy grin showing almost automatically as his eyes glowed a little bit.

“Why don’t we start trying? I think a child would be so much fun.”

Kim Taehyung

credit: jeonbegin

Taehyung began to interact with his younger cousins at the family gathering. You smiled as he was lifting them up over his head, chasing them and even giving them big kisses. You couldn’t help it because he was being just as adorable as he possibly could, causing your heart to ache. You brought a hand down to your stomach, your eyes lowering for a second.

The thought of carrying Taehyung’s child crossed your mind. You thought about the actions he displayed as ones that he could do with your little one. Your heart sank slightly because you knew that it just wasn’t the right time for one. Before you dispel those thoughts, you heard Taehyung clear his throat.

You noticed that one of his cousins had wrapped themselves around his leg and it looked like he wanted you to join in with him. You gave him a small smile, trying to push those thoughts away you moved up to join in.

You scooped his cousin up in your arms, their squeals ringing in your ears as you danced with them. Entertaining them while Taehyung stands back to watch the scene start to unfold. Something pounded in his chest for a little, he wanted to see you interact with children, children of his own.

You turn around, holding his cousin in your arms as you gave him a huge smile. Taehyung couldn’t help but move himself over, but pauses when he felt one of his other cousins wrap their arms and legs around his body. Causing him to laugh slightly as he tried to bend over to catch them. After you both tired them out, they sat and curled up against your bodies as you sat on the ground.

You leaned against Taehyung thinking about earlier when he was playing with them. You couldn’t shake the fever that started to build. You wanted to start a family desperately with him, even turning around to attempt to blurt it out. But it was a lot harder than you thought it would be, until eventually you told him.

Taehyung pauses for a second, then smiles a little at your random blurt. He leans his head over, nuzzling himself in your hair for a hot second. Taehyung moves himself back a little, shifting his weight onto one side so that he could hold your cheek in his hand.

“I think starting a family would be fun.”

Jeon Jungkook

credit: Xuxisushi

Over the years dating Jungkook, you realized that he didn’t want to go out much. You needed to force him out of the house when he wanted to be lazy, or just wanted to be a bump. As much as you enjoyed curling up on the bed or the couch, you also needed to go out and do something with him. There was times were you’d get cabin fever and it was one of those times for you.

You took Jungkook by the hand as you were moving yourself through the market. Looking at small little things, food and other goodies that you wanted to pick out. Jungkook noticed this and he wanted to film it. But he didn’t have his camera with him and it saddened him for a little while. Your reactions to things was something he wanted to capture because he wanted to look at them forever.

It never occurred to you how often Jungkook looked at you. It was like he was looking at you as how Flynn looked at Rapunzel from Tangled. That sweet loving glance that had girls swooning for him. You came across an assortment of baby related objects and you cooed loudly.

It ripped Jungkook out of this thoughts as he turns to look at you start to pick up anything in your sight. Toys, onesies, shoes, you name it. You always loved children and wanted to start a family with Jungkook, but you never expressed those feelings completely to him. Jungkook knew how you felt about it, but he never stepped out of his comfort zone to ask you.

“This would be so cute on our child.” You claimed basically saying that you wanted a child with him. Jungkook raised his eyebrows at your statement as he started smiling. Just your reaction afterwards had him laughing a little to himself as you set the onesie down in order to move on. You were a flushed mess as Jungkook was snickering behind you.

Eventually, you turned around to give him a fake punch as he started laughing further. He was lightly teasing you and you where giving him the right reactions he wanted. You couldn’t help it, of course it was the slip of the tongue, and you knew that he would be light hearted about it. But you didn’t know he would be this light hearted about it.

“Look [Y/N],” Jungkook starts making you pause as you turned around to face him. “I think having a baby would be adorable, quite frankly I think they would adorable in that onesie.” he mentions pausing for a second as he finds his other words.

“However, I don’t think right now is the perfect time, but that doesn’t mean we can’t stop dreaming.”

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d-for-donatello · 3 years

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•¥HOW THE HAIKYUU BOYS FINGER YOU¥•

NSFW

FEATURING: IWAIZUMI HAJIME, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, MIYA ATSUMU, TENDOU SATORI, KUROO TETSUROU

this is my first actual post on this site so please be kind to me <3

IWAIZUMI HAJIME -

Hajime had come back from practice today a little more angry than usual. And from the way his eyebrows knot together and he muttered under his breath about how he ‘fucking hated athletes’, you could tell you were in for a long night.

You had greeted him at the door, arms out wide ready to pull him into a hug when he first opened it. However, he thought otherwise. He placed his shoes neatly on the shoe rack, and dropped his bag and coat in a pile on the floor by the door. He then bent down slightly and picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes- as if you weighed nothing- and b-lined straight for the bedroom. He kicked the door open with his foot, and, without closing it behind him, threw you down on to the big, double sized bed.

This was all an hour ago. Now, he had your legs pressed to your chest with his left arm, the both of you stark naked, and, with his other arm, was quickly and seamlessly thrusting his middle and ring fingers in and out of your messy, spasming cunt, working you towards your third orgasm of the night.

You panted and whined, unable to get your mind to conjure any kind of coherent sentence, your mind having gone to mush, while you pawed and scratched at Hajime’s bicep.

“Quit with your whining, baby.” He said in a deep, gruff voice. His tone made your body shift, and he bore his eyes into your own as his brows furrowed. He took his fingers from inside yo, making you whine at the loss, and roughly manhandled you back into your original position, quickly putting his fingers back between your thighs.

Your mouth hung open and your tongue lolled out at the pace he set once again, and he leant down to you, capturing it in between his teeth, and using it as a method to keep your eyes on him instead of having them roll back into your skull.

He felt you start the squeeze him fingers again, and he sped them up, curling them inside you just right, and slamming his knuckles against the apex of your thigh. You brought your fists to the nape of his neck and tugged on his hair a little, pulling his face down to your collarbone, where he placed a sloppy kiss to your jaw, sucking a bruise to your skin.

“Come on sweet girl. Cum for me. Do it now or I’ll make sure you cum again tonight.”

Your eyebrows upturned and you squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back and letting out a cry, as you let the coil sat at the bottom of your stomach snap. He watched you intently, smiling down at you and dropping his head to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth as he muttered something about how good your were for him.

“Good girl. Such a good, fucking girl.”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU-

Bo sat with his back to the headboard of your shared bed, your back pressed firmly against his chest, as he held onto you with an iron grip. His left arm wrapped around your front, passing over your shoulder to make sure you couldn’t squirm away, while his right arm planted itself comfortably under your own, snaking its way down so he could keep his hand glued to your core.

He sat with his legs akimbo and hooked around your anckles, which, in turn, held yours wide open, leaving you vulnerable to the world. Your hands held onto him, head tucked under his chin, as he furiously swiped his fingers back and forth at your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. Your toes curled painfully and you let out a whimper as he turned his head to place a kiss on your temple, stiffening his body to stop you from trying to curl in on yourself.

He had a little smile on his face - one that completely contradicted his actions- that looked innocent, like he wasn’t playing in your arousal like it was his life’s purpose. He slowed his fingers to a stop, and you whined at the loss of friction.

“Just a sec, baby.” He whispered in your ear.

His left hand came up to place itself on your head so he could turn you towards him for a kiss. He hummed, gently stroking your hair back, while his other hand occupied itself by burying two fingers inside your cunt. Your eyebrows knotted together and and your hands tightened oh him, as you let out a high mewl at the sensation.

You pulled away from the kiss as his arm went back to the way it was before. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you tucked your head into his neck. Your legs convulsed as his fingers rammed into you, causing you to whimper and moan and for your back to arch away from him -as much as his hold would slow you anyway- which only caused him to lean forward and tighten his grip on you.

Soon enough, the band in your stomach threatened to snap as you patted at his chin, getting his attention, and your legs tried to snap shut.

“K-kou, I’m gonna- fuck!”

He kissed up your neck, biting down here and there and leaving bruises in his wake.

“I know baby, let go for me?”

And who are you to deny him? He sat up straighter, leaving room for the inevitable arch that would become of your spine, watching as you shake while you ride out your high. He watched in awe, as you slumped down onto him, still quivering. He pulled his fingers out of you, patting your clit a few times to get a reaction out of you, before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them.

“You did so well babe, I’m so proud of you. I love you.” He told you, as he kissed your neck, pulling you into his chest. “I’ll let you rest baby, I want another one out of you, okay?”

MIYA ATSUMU -

“Usual?” Osamu asked as you and your boyfriend entered Onigiri Miya. You smiled and nodded, letting out a quiet ‘yes, please.’ as Osamu led you and Atsumu over to a booth. The two of you sat as he offered you a smile and skuttled off to the counter.

You picked up your phone, responding to your friends group chat messages as Atsumu placed his head on your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh, trying to get your attention on him. You put your head on top of his and brought your hand up to stroke his cheek before quickly bringing it back down to your phone. You gasped and muttered under your breath about whatever news your friends had roped you into talking about, and Atsumu thought your reactions were the cutest thing ever.

If anyone passed by and took even the shortest of glances, they could see the hearts in his eyes, and the way he hung on to your every little word.

However, that being said, he had been very busy lately, practising, bothering Osamu, helping Sakusa clean, along with Hinita and Bokuto (only to be yelled at by Omi because they weren’t doing it right) ,etc. You had also been busy, with work, and friends and such, so Atsumu was feeling a bit needy, today being the first day in a while that the both of you had free.

He snaked one of his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, still pining for your attention, and his other hand attempting to swat you phone out of your hands. You huffed and ignored him for the most part, assuming he was being childish, until he actually hit the device out of your grasp.

“Stop, ‘Tsum, I have to reply to these messages.” You said, not looking at him as you picked it back up.

He looked at you with narrowed eyes, and he had an offended look adorning his face. Then, it was right at that moment that an idea seemed to pop into his head. His mouth went from open wide in offence, to a sly, and sultry smirk.

He kissed up your face, stopping at your temple, and, keeping his lips planted there -still in that his awful smirk that you wanted to slap off of his face- he trailed his hand that was originally slapping at your phone, down your body, and stopped at your core.

He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled your shirt down a little, wriggling his hand into the material. You dropped your phone on the table in a wave of irritation and sent Atsumu a warning look.

“What are you doing?” You asked him in a hushed voice, making sure not to alert any of the customers, or, more importantly, Osamu, of what your boyfriend was doing. He simply smiled, using his pointer finger to move aside your panties, sliding his middle finger into your cunt. You quickly sucked in a breath and turned back to your phone, hoping to emerge yourself back into the conversation so you could keep a hold of your sanity. He took your silence as a challenge, and -without any kind of warning- thrust his ring finger inside you as well.

He started moving them slowly, trying to get a ride out of your. With the hand that was still wrapped firmly around your shoulders, he gripped the back of your head, turning it so he could capture your lips in a heated kiss. The heel of his palm grazed over your clit, making your breath hitch, and allowing him to stick his tongue down your throat.

“Really? In front of my food and my customers?” You and Atsumu broke away from each other, a flush on both of your faces, and from what you could see, you assumed that Osamu had only seen the two of you kissing, and not taken any notice of Atsumu’s arm crossing over your body.

“Shut yer trap, ‘Samu.” Atsumu snapped back and his eyes widened at the sight of the food his brother had just placed in front of you. His fingers stopped moving, and you could practically see the drool falling from his lips as he stared at the food.

“You shut yer instead and eat you damn food. Which, by the way, ya ain’t gettin’ for free.” Osamu retorted back as you shakily picked up your chopsticks.

“T- thank you, ‘Samu. It looks great.” You said, breaking up the sure-to-be argument. Osamu smiled down at you, letting out a loud ‘Yer welcome Y/N’ and hurried off to tend to the kitchen.

“We almost got caught, baby. Ya liked the idea of gettin’ caught though, didn’t ya? Dirty girl.” Atsumu said, in a low, taunting voice, right into your ear. Your eyebrows furrowed and the flush soreaf further across your face as you clenched around his fingers. He started moving them again, as he started talking.

“Once we’re finished here, we’re going to see Koutarou, remember. I want to see if he, or Shouyo, or even Omi-kun, are able to tell that my fingers are fucking your cute little cunt.”

TENDOU SATORI -

When he had invited you around to his dorm the night before the big match, you had assumed that it would be innocent. He had asked if you wanted to watch a movie, and then cuddle while drifting off into a deep slumber in preparation for all the energy he would need the next day.

“I heard Karasuno are getting pretty strong. They managed to defeat Seijoh even with Oikawa. That ain’t an easy thing to do. Are you sad you don’t get to play Oikawa?” You had asked Tendou as you shut his bedroom door and set your bag down on his desk.

“Yeah, Ushiwaka said he met two of ‘em a few weeks ago I think. Said they were pretty irritating. And yeah, I’m kinda bummed I don’t get to play Oikawa, he’s almost as powerful as Wakatoshi, you know, especially with those serves of his.” Tendou told you, slipping his hoodie off and smiling up at you.

You placed your hands on his cheeks and leaned down to peck his lips, and, as if a switch flipped in his brain, he impulsively decided that now was his time to strike. He quickly wrapped his arms around your hips and switched places with you so quick you couldn’t register what was happening until your back hits his sheets. Eyes wide, you looked up at him with a blush quickly spreading around your cheeks.

“I thought you said you wanted to relax today.” You muttered quickly.

His lips stretched into a small smile and he leant down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Don’t you think the best way to relax is with your partener? Besides, I only ever actually said watch a movie.” You gasped as he nipped at your cheek. “Nothing about relaxing, baby.” He whispered in your ear.

With that, you took your hands, still grasping at his cheeks, and slid them a little, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him down to your lips. He groaned into your mouth, and unbuckled his belt, shimmying down his jeans, only for you to notice that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. You keened at that, panting slightly as he took his cock in his fist and tugged on it a few times.

He stood to his feet and pulled the material off of his legs, his legs, and threw them to the floor, grabbing you by the anckles to bring you closer to him, and pulled off your leggings and panties in one fail swoop, and dropping them with his own bottoms. He took ahold of your anckles again, and, with a shit eating grin that scared you a little, pushed your legs down into the mating press. You felt the stretch in your thighs and whimpered at the slight pain, knowing that they would no doubt cramp up when he let you go.

He crawled up your body slightly, and perched his ass on your stomach. His fists fall from your legs, letting your feet rest against his shoulders as one of his hands grips your jaw and the other, his cock. The appendage on your face plies your mouth open, and he leans down to you. You look at him with a questioning stare when he doesn’t do anything, only for his fingers to pull your mouth open wide, lower his head, and let a glob of spit pass by his lips and yours, retracting his fingers from your mouth and pushing it shut.

“Swallow, baby.” He smiled when you did as he said, letting go of you and leaning back up straight. He took your hand and placed it on your cock, started the motion of you jerking him off, then took that hand and placed it on your neck, squeezing ever so slightly. He took his other hand behind him, and felt up and down your slit, thoroughly coating you and his hand in your slick.

He immediately eased two of his fingers inside inside of you and your eyebrows furrowed and your fist halted, only for a moment however, because he squeezed your throat a little harder than before, and shook you slightly.

“Baby, don’t make me remind you again. This is your only warning. If you stop this,” he said, glancing his eyes down to where your hand was connected to his cock, “then I’ll either stop this,” this time, he furiously jerked his fingers inside you, shaking your ass, “or I’ll edge you so fucking much you’ll be crying and the only fucking word you’ll know will be my name. I haven’t decided yet. Okay?”

You started jerking your hand again and he let out a pleased him, easing the pressure on your throat and started vigorously fucking his fingers into your pussy.

“Baby what do you say? I asked you a question, didn’t I? I said okay, now it’s your turn.” He said condescendingly.

“Okay, yes. I understand what you’re saying.” You whimpered out.

“Okay, yessss… who?” He dragged out.

“Okay, yes Satori.”

KUROO TETSUROU -

Red and gold hues snuck their way past the crack in your bedroom curtains as the sun was starting to rise, and, it was at this time that Kuroo thought you were the prettiest, peacefully sleeping next to him with the early morning sun projecting itself onto your face. He cast his eyes up slightly to see what time it was, and groaned when he read that it was only just 7am.

He had no idea why his internal body clock hated him, forcing him to wake early on one of the only days he was able to sleep in with you, but with a flick of his eyes downwards, he thought it wasn’t too bad if he woke early, thanking his lucky stars that you were there with him, and that he got to look at you in your most vulnerable state. His lips stretched into a small smile and his face flushed slightly, and he lout out a tired moan, before curling his body over your back, intertwining your hands and dozing back off to sleep.

He was awoken again a couple of hours later, to your body shuffling in his grasp, trying to stretch the fatigue from your bones. You went to get up, not awake enough to realise that lover had been woken by your antics, only to let out a screech when his arms encircled your waist and he rolled over, bringing you with him. There was a smirk on his face when you turned your head around and blew the hair from your eyes. He let out a chuckle, deep and gruff, and you huffed, letting your head flop down on your arm.

“Morning baby.” He muttered into your neck, making you shudder when you felt his breath flutter across your skin.

“Good morning, Tetsu. Let me up.” You replied, and he shook his head.

“No can do darling. I didn’t hear a please. Plus, I was cuddling with you, and you went and woke me up. How dare you.” You could sense the playful lilt in his voice and you could feel his smile pressed up against the side of your neck. You struggled to pry his hands off of your waist, ultimately giving up and letting him wander his hands over your body, stopping at your ass so he could grab a handful of it.

“Isnt Kenma wanting to do a stream with you at noon today? Baby, it’s 10:30 already, you need to get ready.” You told him as one of his hands picked and pulled at the bottom of your sleep shorts.

“Kenma and his lackey’s can wait, you, baby, are more important.” He replied, pressing a kiss under you ear as his hand started to tug your shorts down. You grasped at his writes and smiled back at him, telling him your next point to the conversation.

“They are not his ‘lackeys’, they are his fans. He’d probably kill you if he heard you call them that. Plus, Kenma’s your best friend, you can’t make him wait for you.” Sighing, he pulled the fabric down your legs and off your body, flinging them across the room and immediately latching his hand to your core.

“Babe, it’s because he’s my best friend, that I can make him wait.” He told you, cupping your cunt, then, sucking a bruise into your jaw, he eased a finger into you, and then a second, and started thrusting them.

“That- that is beside the -ah- point. Tetsurou, you are going to -fuck- hang out with your best friend, and you are going to entertain people.” You tried to keep you voice steady to get your point across, but from the pace that he had set from the get-go, it was proving to be a little difficult.

“Am I not entertaining you right now?” He asked, holding you close with his unoccupied hand.

“Yes, bu-t that’s not the point.” Chuckling, he thrust his fingers a little more rougher, and you let out a gasp.

“Oh really? So what’s the point then?” At this point, you were sure he was only keeping to conversation going so that he could torture you. Even if he had just woken up, he’s always up for teasing you, apparently.

“I don’t fuck-ing know.” You replied meekly. He started gently grinding his hips on your ass as his fingers ravished your cunt. He felt you squeeze on him and he bit yet another mark that you would have to hide for work, and he felt pride swell in his chest at the sight of them. You gripped onto his forearms as you toppled vicariously on the edge of your orgasm. And, with a few, short, viscous thrusts of his fingers, you let out a whine and what could only be described as a pornographic moan.

Your body started convulsing and he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up infront of your face as you struggled to catch your breath, and patted his fingers, watching all of your slick and arousal run down his hand. You didn’t realise what he had done until he was grabbing at your hair to direct your attention to his face, and he sucked on the appendages that were just inside of you.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly placed your hand over your own mouth, too embarrassed by his actions to think about doing anything else. He turned to you, smiled, and winked.

“I’m gonna text Kenma and see if you can join us today.”

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visualizationstation · 3 years

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I want to do one of those "trying different methods for two weeks each until one works out" things, so if you've got a method you like, or even one you've created, please leave it below I'm so interested to see what everyone comes up with and what visualization techniques you guys use, and I think it would be really cool to try them out!

And since you guys are being so generous already, I wanted to give in return a visualization method I've been working on!

It takes a little bit from different methods in form of what you see at least. So we begin wherever you want to be, could be a forest, a space rock formation thing, anything you want. Look around and take Ian where you are, before looking at your feet as you begin walking forward, counting your steps slowly, each step you take, say the number, and affirm. Do this until you get to 100 steps.

Once you've reached 100, look up in front of you to see a tablet stand thing, it can visually be however you want, I personally have in mind a star trek style board. Tap the screen and let it welcome you as you look through basically a Google drive type file layout. Visualize a folder for your DRs, and imagine scrolling down until you find the one you want. Read the script(or have it play as a movie) about your background, who you are, affirming who you want to be.

When you're ready, imagine tapping a button to confirm that this is where you'd like to go, who you'd like to be. You'll get a warning pop up asking if you're sure, imagine it saying something along the lines of "this will be your reality, are you sure you'd like to be this person?" Or something. Hit yes, you'll get a second warning, something similar. Hit yes again, and look up.

Imagine seeing a door in front of you, maybe one that represents a door you'd see to fit your DR, and walk around the tablet to it. Continue affirming with more DR specific affirmations, and repeat the counting to 100 as you step process from before.

When you get to the door, trace from the top left corner of the seam with your index finger on your DR self's dominant hand, and trace clockwise while affirming specific things similar to "what I desire is reality, I am (name)" manifesting affirmations basically. Once you're done doing this, imagine a robotic voice asking you to audibly confirm that this is who you'd like to be, say yes.

Once this is done imagine opening the door handle and walking into your DR room, or wherever your DR self would be sleeping, and imagine lying down in your DR bed. Here, close your eyes and affirm for however long you want, and switch to thinking things your DR self would, like what you'll do tomorrow/when you wake up, etc.

That's basically it for my little visualization method, and I can't wait to see what you guys let me know as methods I should try!

#shiftblr #shifting realities #realityshifting #desiredreality #original reality #desired reality #shifting methods #shiftingmethod #babe wake up new shifting method just dropped #3333 #3030 #2222 #1111 #1010 #1001 #222 #1313

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bleusarcellewrites · 7 years

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Cardboard Castles

Thiiiiiiiis...probably sucks, but eeeeeeeey, there might be something enjoyable inside, maybe? something? I dunno.

AnYWAYS, hope you like it @eleedoesart ! This is me taking you out on a most promised date and I hope I do good, bc I suck at dates and stuff.

It’s a one shot of these idiots moving in together to a new apartment in the modern au, so yeah! Shklance for the soul, hope you like it <333

2.5k words under the cut, so yeah, clic on read more if you see it and want to.

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me.

Lance wakes up with tickles.

More than tickles, the familiar feeling of butterflies kisses against his face. He smiles unconsciously and leans closer to their source. There’s a low chuckle near him and Lance cracks one of his eyes open to meet a familiar gray pair.

“Morning,” Shiro mumbles, nuzzling his face closer to his boyfriend’s, earning yet again another giggle from Lance.

“It is now,” Lance sighs contently, shifting on the bed to wraps his arms around the other man’s shoulders, pulling him down, “What got you into the romantic mood so early?”

Shiro hums. “Well, it is a especial morning; it’s our first morning together in our new place. A especial wake up method was required.”

“I like this method.” Lance declares softly, dropping a kiss on the pink scar over Shiro’s nose.

“Well, that’s good, because then you have the honors to wake up the last sleeping beauty in this bed.” Shiro looks to the side, eyes turning fond at the snoring figure next to them.

Lance follows his gaze, snorting quietly when a loud sharp snore shakes Keith’s entire body.

“Oh, such an honor.” Lance teases, rolling his eyes but grinning playfully. He untangles himself from Shiro’s embrace and turns his body, groaning with pleasure when his muscles stretch and bones crack at his movements.

He crawls on the bed until he’s knee sitting besides his still sleeping boyfriend.

Lance goes with the tender fluffy option first.

He places his hand over Keith’s disheveled bed hair and strokes it gently, not at all surprised to see that it has no knots whatsoever, one of his boyfriend’s many lucky miracles.

“Babe, time to wake up.”

Nothing.

Lance frowns and purses his lips.

Welp, he tried. Time for teasing playful option.

“Babe.” He calls again, finger up and poking one of Keith’s pale cheeks.

Still a big nothing.

“Keith, honestly.”

A loud exaggerated snore answers him, and Lance gasps dramatically.

“You little shit! I knew you could hear me.”

There’s a moment of silence and then,

“Nu.”

“Oh my god.”

Shiro barks a laugh from his side of the bed, shaking his head in amusement as he watches his boyfriend failing to make their lover to move in the least. He raises his hand in surrender when Lance turns back to glare at him.

“Alright,” Lance shrugs, smirk growing on his face and Shiro knows what's coming, “You asked for this, mullet.”

Keith barely has time to register the words before Lance’s lifting up his shirt and blowing a loud sloppy raspberry on his stomach.

The reaction is immediate. Keith squeaks and turns sharply, laughter escaping his mouth and struggling wildly when Shiro joins his other side and hold him down by the wrist.

“No, no! Don’t you dare -! Lance! I see you! Don’t!” Keith laughs, fighting against his boyfriend’s hold with no success whatsoever; for only using one hand, Shiro has quite the strong grip, “Shiro, let go! Oh my god!”

He hears Shiro chuckle above him, lips pressed against the top of his head. “You had it coming, baby. I can’t interfere with Lance’s vengeance.”

“Wise choice,” Lance muses, dropping a quick kiss to Keith’s stomach before using his fingers to tickle him, “Last time, mullet! Surrender your sleep or suffer the consequences!”

“Never!” Keith shouts back, voice cracking in the middle by a hiccup, grin still wide and big in his face.

Both Lance and Shiro share a look before nodding.

“Then a war shall we have!” Lance exclaims, leaning away from his boyfriend before grabbing a pillow and holding up high in his head, not hesitating to bring it down to Keith’s face.

“Lance!” Keith shouts, finally free from Shiro’s hold but only to be attacked by said partner with his own pillow, “Not fair!”

“You’re getting slow, love,” Shiro cackles, dodging the hit coming from Lance effortlessly before throwing his pillow to the brunet, effectively hitting him in the face.

“Ack!” Lance yelps, throwing himself back in the bed and clutching his chest dramatically, pillow still covering his face, “Blue down! Blue down!”

“Red is on the move! I repeat, Red’s on the move!” Shiro mockingly gasp, grinning wildly as Keith jumps on the bed, lifting his own pillow up, eyes narrow with challenge.

“He’s going for Black! He is defenseless! Will this be the end of the Black Lion?” Lance narrates from the bed’s edge, using his phone as microphone while pulling his own pillow closer to his chest.

“Not helping!” Shiro groans as he blocks with his arm another pillow attack from his smaller boyfriend.

“He’s losing strength! I repeat! Losing! Strength!”

“Lance!”

“He’s calling for Blue but Blue’s on the other side of paradise by his own fault! There’s no one to help him!”

“The Mighty Black Lion is weakening!” Keith joins in with the narration, dodging one of Shiro’s attacks, a wide exciting grin decorating his face, “He’s getting slower by the second! He is now Red’s prisoner!”

“He’s making breakfast!” Lance adds, laughing and launching himself to hug Keith’s waist once Shiro flops down on the bed and raises his hand in surrender, “The legendary waffles of the Mighty Black Lion make a comeback!”

“And the kingdom has been restored!” Keith cheers, leaning down and dropping a kiss on top of his brunet boyfriend.

“Can the black Lion get kisses too before he goes into fulfilling his punishment, which he will do with pleasure and love?” Shiro chides in, lifting his head to look at both of his boyfriends.

The pair share a grin before throwing themselves on their boyfriend.

“A little more to the right.”

Lance hums as his boyfriend follows his instructions, the big mirror he’s holding up with a strong grip pressed against the wall.

“How about now?” Keith asks, looking over his shoulder to meet Lance’s eyes.

Lance hums again, rubbing the edge of his chin dramatically before waving his hand to the left.

“A little to the left.”

The brunet bites down his smug smirk when Keith groans annoyed but complies. He had to give it to his boyfriend, they have been at this task for the past half an hour and Keith’s still able to hold up the big mirror steadily enough.

He snaps out of his thoughts when someone collides with his hip and he turns his head to the right, catching Shiro’s warm smile. Lance nudges him back and grins when Shiro laughs.

“How is Operation Hanging going?” Shiro asks casually, sipping from his cup.

Lance hums nonchalantly before reaching out and taking Shiro’s beverage from his flesh hand, taking a small sip. “Oh, raspberry tea?”

Shiro nods, “Your fave.”

“You poured yourself raspberry tea because you knew I was going to steal it from you?”

“Duh.” Shiro smirks, leaning forward and dropping a chaste kiss against the brunet’s lips.

“What a gentleman.” Lance smiles, pulling him close to one last kiss before turning their attention back to their boyfriend.

“Now?” Keith whines, slamming his forehead against the wall.

“Almost there, amor! Just a tiny itty bit to the right!”

Keith groans and Shiro shakes his head in amusement.

“You just want to stare at his butt.” Shiro accuses quietly, poking the brunet on the side playfully, making him squirm and huff a laugh.

“Oh, please, I’m enjoying this as much as you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shiro shrugs but smirks knowingly, dropping his prosthetic arm on his boyfriend’s shoulder before turning again to Keith, “You almost got it, baby! Just a bit more to the left.”

“You guys said to the right last time! Oh my god!”

“Wait, now it’s too low. Hold it up a little bit more, Keith.” Lance grins, eyes never leaving his boyfriend’s backside, ignoring Keith’s curses and humming in appreciation when Keith lifts the mirror up, muscles flexing, “Yep, that’s the stuff.”

“Lance, it is alright there - Lance!” Keith snaps, head never turning around but his own reflection now greeting him with the help of the higher position of the mirror and catching Lance’s gaze from it, “You piece of shit, are you staring at my butt?”

Lance jumps in surprise, a flush covering his face for getting caught.

“....No.”

“You piece of shit, oh my god!”

Shiro just cackles, bending slightly over to hold his stomach as more giggles escaped his mouth, until he see the way Keith’s hands leave the mirror and then he’s leaping out to catch it.

“Keith!”

“Nop! I’m out! I’m now in charge of organizing the DVDs and CDs! Me! Leaving! Right now!” Keith fumes, glaring at Lance as he pass by him.

The brunet smiles sheepishly and blow him a quick kiss. “I love you, babe.”

Keith’s glare softens but he still narrows his eyes at his boyfriend and does the universal hand movement of ‘I’m watching you’. They wait until Keith’s out of the dining room before Lance speaks up.

“From one to ten, how high is the probability I’m waking up to cold feet on my back tomorrow?”

Shiro hums as he hangs the mirror easily and steps back to admire his quick work. He meets his boyfriend’s eyes through the mirror, “From one to ten?”

“Yeh.”

“Twenty.”

“Dang it.”

“I can’t believe you managed to sneak that in.”

Shiro looks up from his place on the floor, throwing his head back to catch his boyrfriend’s dark blue eyes upside down and sends him a loopsy grin.

The older man holds up small owl statue, “What do you guys have against Slav? This little guy is like our watch dog. Keeping the apartment safe and secure while we are out!”

Keith snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah, okay, Takashi, maybe in another reality.”

“You never know!”

“This is the same owl Lance used to freak out for two weeks straight every time we had sleepover at your old place?” Keith asks, arching an eyebrow at his boyfriends, who smiles sheepishly.

“Maybe?”

Keith laughs this time, softly and genuine as he stares down at his boyfriend and takes the owl statue from his hands.

“You’re such a dork.” Keith declares playfully but still places the owl down on the counter next to the kitchen’s entrance.

“Says the one who brought his Mothman figure,” Shiro snickers, huffing when he feels a body press against his back, “...Comfy?”

Keith hums contently, face buried against his boyfriend’s shoulder from behind.

Shiro chuckles fondly and raises his flesh hand, placing it on top of Keith’s black mop of hair and ruffling it playfully.

“Come on, baby, we still have like, ten big full boxes to unpack.”

Keith groans loudly against him, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Ugh, can’t we just live surrounded by boxes? We have been unpacking the entire morning!” Keith whines, lifting his head enough to send his boyfriend a flat look, “Lance’s childhood dream was to live in a cardboard fort made from boxes! Bam! Made his dreams come true, best boyfriends ever.”

Shiro snorts this time, prosthetic flying to his mouth to suppress his laughter. “I mean, I can’t argue with that, to be honest.”

“Right? Look at this,” Keith whispers before he throws his head back, “Lance? Babe? Can we live in a cardboard fort instead and stop unpacking?”

“First off, it’s a cardboard castle, second of all, if it has a terrace, then sure, babe!” was the instant answer from the kitchen.

Keith purses his lips. “I can give you fire escape stairs?”

A pause and then, “Deal, but a stargaze date is required every two weeks!”

“Make it weekly!” Shiro butts in and smiles when he hears the excited ‘whoop’ from Lance.

“Sold!”

“See?” Keith smirks down at Shiro, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, joy, now will be known as the trio who lives in a cardboard fort,” Shiro teases but smiles tenderly when he feels a soft pressure on top of his head.

“Cardboard castle, remember?” Keith corrects gently, dropping another kiss on his boyfriend’s head before leaning down and kissing his cheek.

“Hey, guys? Lunch is ready and I made - Mother fucker! Oh my god!”

Both men wince at the sound of plastic plates falling and clattering on the floor followed by a pained yelp from their brunet boyfriend.

“Man down! Man down! Butt harmed and a creepy owl still staring down at me! Takashi!”

“It was Keith!” Shiro shouts back, dodging Keith’s hand as the other tries to slap his arm, “I’m coming, Lance!”

Keith pulls himself up from his boyfriend so the other could stand up and help Lance. He ends up on the floor, legs crossed and a pout on his face.

“Does this mean we are having take out?” He shouts and grins when he gets both positive answers from his boyfriends.

“Okay but that scene was so cliche.”

Keith hums eyes never leaving the laptop’s screen and hand still stroking Lance’s short brown hair as the brunet’s head lays on Shiro’s lap, soft snores leaving his mouth.

The pizza box is still half open with a few leftover inside, the apartment’s light are off and curtains closed, leaving only the dim laptop screen to light up their surroundings.

Keith sighs contently as he snuggles closer to Shiro’s side and pushes his cheek into his boyfriend's shoulder, cuddling closer and chasing the warm Shiro provides. He feels the familiar pressure of Shiro’s lips on his temple and he unconsciously smiles.

“This is what happens when you let Lance chose the movie.” Keith replies quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping brunet below them.

“It was only fair after you scared him with Slav.”

“I did not - ! Oh my god, it was you who brought that damn owl.” Keith rolls his eyes and softly hits his boyfriend in the arm, “Such betrayal from your side, honey.”

“You will live.” Shiro laughs softly, hushing quietly when Lance whines and shifts, burying his face deeper in Shiro’s stomach, “It think it’s time to call it a night, though.”

Keith nods besides him, leaning down to drop a kiss on Lance, just above his eyebrow. “Alright, sharpshooter, time for bed.”

“Shi...bed.” Lance mumbles, words slurred and barely understandable but it makes both of his boyfriends laugh.

“I didn’t know you were a mattress trade mark, Takashi.” Keith teases and the older man looks back at him.

“Har har,” Shiro deadpans before shaking his head with a smile, “Alright then, up we go.” He makes sure to have a strong grip on his half sleeping boyfriend before standing up, nodding in thanks when Keith shuts down the laptop and opens their bedroom door for him.

“He must be really tired if he didn’t went through his beauty routine,” Keith frowns, stroking a bang out of Lance’s face as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“It’s been a couple of tiring days, with all the moving and sudden changes.” Shiro nods, taking off his prosthetic before rolling his shoulders back, a pleased noise leaving his lips when he hears a small crack.

“No regrets, though.” Keith smiles, grabbing Shiro’s hand and bringing him down on the bed, making him lay on Lance’s free side and leaving the brunet in the middle.

“No regrets,” Lance agrees, voice heavy with sleep, eyes still closed but both of his hands moving around, looking for something.

Both Keith and Shiro are quick to help him out and intertwine their hands together, smiling when a small happy smile grows on Lance’s face.

“None at all.” Shiro hums softly, finally laying down and pulling both men closer to him.

#shklance #bleu writes #shklance fic #takashi shirogane #vld shiro #lance mcclain #vld lance #keith kogane #vld keith #voltron #voltron fic #Voltron legendary defender #shklance fluff

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himbowelsh · 7 years

Note

I'm the one who send you "Bill or Babe" question *evil laughter*. Your answer inspired headcanon idea for Philly crew + Gene + Babe: Babe was in an accident. His life is not in danger but he's bruised plenty and was unconscious for a while. Bill, Frannie, Julian, Spina and Gene get to hospital cause Renee recognized unconscious Babe and called Gene. Every person individual reaction to this stressful situation? Who's calm? freaking out? refusing to leave Babe's side? Who's his emergency contact?

She's waiting in the lobby when the arrived at the hospital. Gene has been texting her updates on their location throughout their drive -- he recounted no less than four yellow lights raced through, swerving around curbs at breakneck speeds, and cutting off a large pickup truck in the middle of the street. Renee has never been in a car driven by Bill Guarnere before, and she's happy to conclude she never wants to.

They're a sight as they pour through the doors, but Renee would expect nothing less. She has experience dealing with frightened family and friends; she sees them every day. She recognizes the familiar glint of panic in Spina's eyes, how Bill's tight jaw symbolizes the control he is struggling to hold on to, the way Fran's fingernails dig into her palms and Julian's hands grip the gen of his shirt. When she catches Gene's eyes, the sight of her best friend pale and tense leaves her feeling like she's been plucked from a summer's day and dropped into the depths of winter. Gene, who works so hard, loves so deeply, should never look like that.

"Where is he?" is the first thing out of Bill's mouth as he leads the charge into the emergency room. He looks ready to say more, but Renee holds up her clipboard. This is the most effective method of stopping a worried relative's rambling in its tracks, and the effect it has on Bill is no different."He's going to be alright," she says, not even pretending to read off of his chart. She's gone through it enough times, poured over every word since the second she recognized Babe lying on that gurney. She was the one to dial Babe's emergency contact, leaving a message to inform Bill Guarnere that his friend is in the hospital and he should come down immediately. Then she called Gene.Now she's not sure whether she should have waited or not. Gene looks as if something in him has splintered. A spiderweb of cracks have spread over the surface of his tranquil veneer. His jaw is tense, hands trembling, As he takes a step closer to Renee. His eyes are drawn towards the chart first. When she pulls it closer to her chest they turn to her, beseeching for any crumb of information.Bill turns to his girlfriend, running a hand along his clean-shaven jaw. "What the hell did that kid do to himself now?" he mutters, drawing an agitated huff from Fran.They're all looking for answers; luckily, Renee has many to give. "According to paramedics, Babe fell from a second story balcony. He fractured his arm, broke two ribs, sustained a head laceration, and what at this point appears to be a moderate concussion. He was awake and talking at the scene, but lost consciousness shortly after boarding the ambulance. Since then, he has not woken up.""Well, why the hell not?" Fran's hands have shifted from their tight fists; now they dig into her boyfriend's arm. If her sharp nails cause Bill any pain, he doesn't show it."He's under some sedation right now, and on medication to manage the pain. The MRI results have come back normal; there is no reason to suspect any sort of extensive brain injury at this time.""But you'll only know when he wakes up, right?" Gene's inquiry is sharp, almost accusatory. He sounds breathless. "You can only guess right now, you won't know --""Gene," Spina says, laying a hand on his arm. His voice is husky with all the emotion he is holding back. His brows are knit together in a tight furrow, but he still finds the stability in him to lead his friend over to the nearest chair. "Let's sit down, buddy. Why don't we all sit down?"Julian makes no move towards the seats. Neither does Fran, until Bill puts a hand on her back, nudging her towards the chair next to Spina's. She looks reluctant, but takes it; he settles down next to her, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees. He hasn't taken his eyes off Renee -- or, she realizes after a moment, the chart in her hands."So, what are you telling us?" Bill demands. "Aside from 'he's an idiot', cause we all knew that. Hanging off a balcony, christ." He shakes his head, jaw squaring in frustration, before he rounds back to Renee again. "Is he going to be fine?""They don't know," Gene mutters, but Renee cuts in before he can cause any panic."At this time, we have every reason to suspect that he'll be alright. The ribs will take up to six weeks to heal, about eight weeks for the arm. If he does indeed have a concussion, you can expect dizziness and confusion, followed by possible agitation and behavioral difficulties in the days following the accident --"Spina pulls his knit cap off his head. "Jesus H. Christ," he mutters."But in time he will make a full recovery." Renee finishes, swallowing after her last words. She seems to have done little to assuage the fears on Babe's friends, despite her efforts. They still look strained and worried, huddling together like a flock of sheep missing one of their own. It's an oddly pitiful sight.The only stone-faced one of the group is, to Renee's surprise, Julian. He regards her with coal black eyes, tracking her movements as she glances down at the chart she holds. When she lifts her gaze, she catches his, and he blinks as if he's waiting for her to do something."Okay," Julian says after a few seconds of silence. "So, when can we see him?""He's in Room 215, but visiting hours --""Renee, I work here," Gene cuts her off. "I know when the goddamn visiting hours are, and none of us care. How soon can we see him?"Renee bites her lip and sighs. "As soon as the next round of tests comes back," she informs them. "We'll have more information on his condition, and hopefully will be able to offer you more. Just be patient until then."

It is a moment before the group, as a single unit, nods. Spina slumps back in his seat, drawing his knees up and curling in on himself. Gene and Bill remain frozen, however, postures stiff as stone.

Renee forces herself to turn away, back to the nurses’ station. She can look up Babe’s file in their computer again; maybe he’s woken up by now. Maybe, maybe, she’ll have some good news to tell them.

There is no new information. She sighs, and switches tabs to another case. Babe isn’t her only patient, and right now she needs to focus on something less personal. A stranger lying in a hospital bed is infinitely preferable to it being a friend; someone she knows, who she cares about. She needs a distraction.

Carl Dawson in Room 213 has pneumonia. Wendy Alivias has an infection in her leg. Dorian Murphy got a cutting knife stuck in his shoulder, and is looking at nerve damage. An endless stream of unfamiliar names run before her eyes, and it is almost a relief.

She doesn’t want to look up, but she can’t help it. Their presence is oppressive. She can feel their anxiety radiating from across the room; their anxious murmurs drift towards her ears. She is finally forced into glancing towards Babe’s friends once more at the sight of someone crossing the waiting area.

“Bill!” Fran exclaims, and springs to her feet. She catches up with him in a few small bounds, but Bill doesn’t stop until he has rounded the corner and is proped up against the hallway wall. He is out of sight from the waiting area, but not the nurses station. Renee knows it is not her business, but she can’t help listening.

"I can't do this, Frannie,” Bill chokes out as he buries his head in his girlfriend’s shoulder. “I can't... losing him, it'll kill me. I just lost Henry, how can I -- why -- why can't I protect anybody?"

Fran’s arms lock around her boyfriend in a vice grip. Bill’s face is buried in her dark curls; Renee can only see Fran’s expression, the stolid resolution there. She hushes her boyfriend, running her hands up and down his back. Bill does not cry, does not tremble, but looks close to collapsing. Fran bears the weight of them both.

She is witnessing an intimate moment that she should not be a part of. Flustered, Renee turns away.

She finds her gaze drawn back to Gene, who is now sitting hunched in his chair. His head is in his hands. He is still as a statue of a mourning man. Something in Renee’s stomach twists, and she feels her throat tighten. Even Spina’s hand rubbing circles into his shoulders serves as little consolation, and Spina is close to breaking with his own worry.

Julian is the most unemotional of all of them, which takes Renee by surprise. She’d always gotten the impression (in the few times she’s met him) that youngest of Babe’s friends was also the most immature. In many ways that is true, but Julian’s composure now is remarkable. He is unflinching in the face of his friends’ strain. His knuckles, white around the cellphone in his hands, is the only indication that he too is feeling the pressure.

Bill and Fran are returning to their group now. Renee takes a deep breath and trains her attention back on her computer screen. She can check Babe’s file, just one more time...

A new notification beneath the name of HEFFRON, EDWARD J. takes her aback: Patient is awake and reactive. Alert, aware of his condition. Showing positive neurological responses.

Renee is on her feet before she realizes it. As she rushes across the room towards the waiting area, every head in Babe’s small group lifts. She greets them with a smile.

“I have good news,” she tells them. “He’s awake!”

#and cue a really sappy reunion scene #gene and spina cry #so does bill #but he tries to hide it by smacking babe #then fran smacks him for smacking babe while he's in a hospital #bill says theres no better place to do it #typical philly crew #my writing #Anonymous

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hannahstocks · 4 years

Text

’99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall’…

Mild hysteria in both our voices, oncoming traffic lights, lighting up the salt streams running down beetroot coloured cheeks, eyes squeezed together so tightly, with a force in her lungs to be reckoned with.

I’d had a bad feeling about the first camp spot, ‘something just doesn’t feel right’ as I screwed up my face apologetically. There was something about camping next to a heavily logged area of forest which gave me a sad sunken feeling, a graveyard for trees made me draw a little deeper for air, knotting in my stomach. The fast flowing river on the other side of us juxtaposed the feeling of sadness with life and vitality and an eagerness to swim, but we pushed on, with a slightly passive aggressive tone floating around the van and a groan for dinner in our bellies.

My gut feeling pushed our eta a little later than we’d hoped, most of all, for the little beetroot faced girl sitting in between us.

I had worried a little before departure, we’d traveled in the van so many times before, longer and farther distances. I was longing for the simple life, basic routines, outdoors even when you’re in doors with the selfish flexibility to stay or go, to see where the wind would blow.

We were quickly realising that we needed to slow down, rushing from one spot to another was not conducive to a 6 month old, nor conducive to our own level of sanity and it felt good, new perspectives.

The last few nights in the van I had starred out of the window and into the stillness of the night, darkness laden with stars, temperatures dropping, my back covered in goosebumps, wedged against the cold metal of the barn door, with one slightly chilly boob exposed and a hungry little girl attached.

How life had changed.

Having to get ‘nowhere quickly’ was starting to create a new perspective, a shift in mindset enabling the appreciation of those seemingly mundane moments. Finding something quite methodical and beautiful about piling our bags on the front seat ready for bed, washing up in stream water, putting the bed away and making the bed at night, tag teaming to go to the toilet or brushing our teeth. Feeding into the early hours.

Those first few days, the weather proved favourable for us, gifting us with blue skies and the kind of warmth that feels like you really deserved it, small pockets of Autumnal grace warming the parts of us exposed and making those cold water dips that little more bearable.

The Lake District proved to be some of the coldest water we’ve both swam in yet, painful, stabbing all over our bodies, stealing our breath as we submerged into the most beautifully emerald water, crystal clear. Each of us looking on as the other floats down the river, navigating rocks and mini rapids. A little part of us enjoying the others discomfort along with a sense of camaraderie. Taking turns, now a necessity.

Have you ever seen a horny Bull? Weird question maybe, but when one sets its sights or its smell on a field of unassuming cows, you soon learn that fences just don’t exist, merely a slight obstacle, a nuisance if you will and you want to be as far away as you possibly can.

Sheets of glass welcomed us that evening, with that Autumnal late afternoon light, casting favourable sun flares and romanic feelings, I think we even held hands at one point. It was the light to give those van legs a resurgence of energy.

No matter how many times we’ve thrown a ball for Dillon and watched him launch, with pure joy into the water, each time it seems like the first time, somehow still elated by the sight of that moment, mid air, all limbs outstretched, anticipation on his little face. And honestly, a slight jealously stirs inside that you can want something so bad as if it’s the first time you’ve ever had it, time and time again, like a really really good groundhog moment.

Hot dogs with all the trimmings were on the menu that evening, oh and sliced baby fingers. Note to self, always remember when you’ve opened a can of beer and placed it in arms reach of your baby, she will want to play with it and most probably, start playing it like a singing bowl. The never ending emergence of guilt revealed itself to me with conviction that evening. A few tears, a little bit of blood and she was fine, I wasn’t. A play mate for Dillon began to soften the blow as they played well into dusk, dropping the ball onto the van door mat, eyes drilling into us ‘please throw, please throw, please throw’. People began to congregate and beach fires started to emerge, embers flying straight up and into the windless night. We would fall asleep to stillness and I’d wake to feed the babe to chilly temperatures, 3 or 4 degrees at most.

The next morning saw a slow relay of running, swimming and stretching, James held out the baton and it was my turn. Pausing on the shoreline, bikini clad at the start of the Caledonian canal, water running down my goose pimpled skin, enjoying the surge of heat glowing through my body from the mix of salt and fresh water. Each rock on the bottom as clear as looking through glass.

Just towards the fields behind the van, we watched a bull, come out from no where and start charging the length of 4 football pitches, barbed wire fences separating each field. He’d become entangled in each fence and momentarily be stuck, bucking his legs. James and I looked at each other like ‘what do we do?!’ And then he’d kick his way free and onto the next, same scenario, before bulldozing the last fence, straight through and into the woodland and up into the field of grazing cows, blissfully unaware of what was about to hit them. It amazed us, that sheer one tracked focus, the brutal strength and discard for anything in his way.

Further North and well into Scotland, the good weather came and went and as a good friend recently said, no family holiday would be complete without a couple of nights in a static caravan. We watched low tide turn to high from inside the warmth and through the rain drenched window, the side rain now relentlessly beating down, wind so strong the sides shaking. Normally I would have felt like we were cheating on the van, but honestly, I couldn’t have been happier sat watching the weather, inside and dry.

The caravan sat on the far east of the peninsula, unspoilt and wild, stretching out into the Atlantic Ocean, a single track road leading to the most westerly point on the Great British mainland.

There was no rush, nowhere to be, no waves to chase.

The weather cleared, patches of sunshine with rain, rainbows decorating the sky.

We made the slow way west, the sound of cameras clicking as we inspected the sun kissed ever changing landscapes; enchanted woodland into open pastures, tucked away bays and mountainous passes; taking it in turn to dash from the van, catching precious moments in between showers. Sometimes, just staring out, cameras down, impossible to capture.

Castles at low tide, friends with nordic cabins looking out over hills rolling into lochs with mountains lacing the edges, unsuccessful fishing spots revealing hidden bays for swimming and the babe taking her first ever picture, first of many I’m sure.

We’d been keeping an eye on the weather chart, heavy rain and strong winds on the forecast. Hopping on the ferry we headed north and into the eye of the storm. Sunshine joined us over the short and relatively smooth crossing, although it doesn’t take much for me to seek out somewhere to lie down, breathing the fresh air in deeply, wooziness on the horizon.

The wind continued to increase throughout the day as we pulled up to our camp spot, positioning the van with what felt like a million micro adjustments to save ourselves from the soon becoming Gail force head winds.

Watching on, hikers pitched single man tents on the grass in the most exposed of areas which unfortunately just happened to be the flattest. The swell in the bay was small but what there was of it was boasting white caps, foam blowing onto the shingle and across the bay.

I thought a lot about those hikers over the duration of our short stay. They were in for a rough night, thats for sure, struggling to erect their tents in the first place, sides bowing into themselves and away from the oncoming wind, no doubt pressing up against them and their kit, now sheltering inside. Condensation building. They would fall asleep to torrential rain and wake up to it, relentless, no break. But I envied them. And not because I wanted to be anywhere other than where I was, but because I know that feeling, the rollercoaster of feelings which come from doing something physical and getting completely drenched, feeling uncomfortable, tired, irritable and ravenous but so full of satisfaction and overwhelming joy that its been anything but a fair weather experience, instead, a full on adventure. I imagined them finding a pub a couple of days later when their hike was over, pint in hand, hearty meal on the table, cheeks rosy with that immediate fuzzy feeling, contented satisfaction.

Maybe I’m just a romantic though.

Maybe they all hated every second.

Walking up the rough track, we gazed out towards the dominant cliffs and across the bay, waterfalls scattered in the hills, watching the weather as it crept in visible sheets across the sky; most of the hikers tucked up inside their canvas sheets, a couple still frantically tying down guy ropes.

‘I think it’s gonna skirt across and miss us’, he says hopefully. Looking towards the looming sky, I didn't share his optimism. But we kept walking upwards, stretching our legs, tripping over lose rocks, struggling a little with fatigue and the extra weight strapped to me in her pile fleece onesie.

There is always the need to move, in life, in general but no more than when we’re on the road. So much sitting and snacking, the body gets restless and the mind starts to irritate and there’s only so much van chair yoga before you start to feel the opposite effects.

And so it begins, that piercing side rain that was ‘definitely’ going to miss us. Oh it hurts and it’s so wet, the kind of rain that soaks you instantly, no rain jacket, just a fleece, absorbing all the moisture, jeans sticky and heavy, arms wrapped around the little warm parcel strapped to me, asleep, oblivious.

The wetness would continue into the night and all of the next day too, completely relentless.

It was a full moon, we were trapped inside the van, tensions were high and there were almost tears over spilt gnocchi.

Luckily we’re still married.

Just.

The problem with being a Pisces is making decisions. Hard enough with one pisces. Even harder with two. We sat in a lay by eating sandwiches, refreshing the iPhone and what the weather was predicting for the next week. It looked bleak for where we were and there was a pull for sunshine and waves in Ireland, but an even bigger niggle in my belly that we hadn’t even scratched the surface of Scotland, the thought of leaving without further exploration left me feeling a little empty. Plus, how often is the weather right anyway?

And so we made the decision (after five long hours) to keep heading North, further exploring the wonder of the west.

“ROAD CLOSED”.

‘You’re fucking kidding?!’

This wasn’t your usual road closure, this was the kind of road closure which had you driving from the west coast to the east, driving North and then back West again. What should have been an hour journey, turned into four.

In the dullness of the fading light, the massive mountains sprouted up from the earth and engulfed us, dwarfing our van and the road we drove along through the nature reserve, waterfalls in mountain sides, precarious sheep teetering on the edge, green everywhere with rock walls lining the way and running off in all directions, at all different elevations across the face.

It was still raining when we found our camp spot, but it was irrelevant.

Our van sat off the quiet road on a small patch of grass with rocks flowing from the sliding door and down into the loch, the tide was high and the sound of mini lapping waves was delicious. The air breathed purity down into our lungs and the anticipation for a swim the next day gave us bursts of excitement each time we ventured for a nature wee. This trip was quickly becoming the ‘cold water swimming holiday’ and I couldn’t have been happier about it.

Im learning that life, now more than ever, runs in stages, a bad stage feels endless, whilst a good stage is laced with anxiety knowing that it wont last. We had a sleeper, we didn’t even realise how lucky we were but we’d keep quiet when others would talk about multiple wake ups and multiple feeds, didn’t want to jinx it. We were slowly starting to join the latter stage.

Those early feeds in the vans were also presenting me with a sneaky peak into a very special time of day/night, nobody around, just the two of us awake with wildlife right outside the door venturing closer for inspection, feeding, wandering. Deer right outside the van, owls hooting, foxes scurrying and those stars, on a clear night, are enough to send you into a dream like state no matter how awake or tired you feel. So much is happening when we’re sleeping.

A beautiful sunny scenic walk would prove too much for our little girl, icy winds, streaming eyes, goose pimples and mini baby shivers, with the undertone of ‘we pushed it too far’, slight stress in each wobbly step back down to the van. While there were still snores and deep breaths into my chest, slumber and contentment, we gazed around at the beautiful valley, peering over steep cliffs whilst cliff faces in the distance soared up towards the clouds, pools of water decorating the rocky terrain, adding rocks to cairns along the way.

‘This one’s for Billie’, he proclaims.

We’d reached the part of Scotland I’d been daydreaming about in the lead up to the trip, the part of the country we could have so easily have missed had we made a slightly different decision, back in that lay-by, back in the torrential rain, the day of indecision.

Floating on my back, the icy water now spilling over my limbs, a sky of grey mist above, jagged rocks below. The babe strapped to her dad, Dillon at his side somewhere in the hills. I let my head fall back, ice-cream head threatening to bite, the air still, no-one insight. I can feel my energy levels going from zero to off the charts with every second, with every deep breath, the sleepless night washed off and a soothing reminder that the water never fails to be the natural compass back to myself.

Next stop.

The emerald Isle.

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writingevil · 7 years

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A Circle part 2

Part One

By Evil

Amelia stared at the girls mark with mixed emotions. Thya continued to undress and Amelia looked away to not seem rude. After a few minutes the water around her stirred. Thya looked at her worried and embarrassed.

“I was born with it. My camp made me cover it in order to keep bad spirits away.” She said.

“It’s strange but beautiful.” Amelia said softly. “You should be proud of it.”

“Oddities are not something to be proud of. If I had been born to a marked woman she would have smothered me.”

“But you weren’t. You were born to a loving mother who loves you no matter what shape you have.” Amelia rested her hand on the girls bare shoulder. “Be proud.”

“Hilla has given me the option to choose whether or not I cover. I think it will be easier to cover to avoid the people who don’t think as openly as you do.”

Amelia nodded. “If that is your choice then you may bathe with me whenever you like. I could even allow you and your family to come to the river with me. It is farther so no one from camp uses it.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Amelia.” Thya said shyly.

“While we wash we should discuss what our tasks will be.” Amelia said seriously beginning to wash the dirt from her arms. “Tomorrow I will wake you at dawn and we will walk to the city. We will paint rectangles on our arms and begin to sneak meat and bread and whatever else we think the camp may need.”

“I’ve done such things before. You may be shocked at what I am able to steal. Don’t underestimate me.” Thya responded dunking her head into the water and beginning to rinse her long flowing hair.

“Your covering won’t be questioned. Their are a few religious women that wear it that way in order to preserve modesty.” Amelia said and Thya nodded.

They finished cleaning themselves and dried off. Amelia tried to keep her eyes from traveling down the beautiful girls body. She awkwardly cleared her throat and looked towards the sky finding the Orion constellation that she was fond of. She smiled and recalled the story Hilla had told her.

Orion was a hunter and killed one of Artemis’ sacred deer. The goddess of the moon in a rage of fury turned Orion, himself, into a deer. He was killed by his own hunting dogs. Amelia liked how it told a tale of respect for the gods. She supposed now she was Orion, stealing from others.

The next day she crawled out of her tent and was greeted by a fully dressed Thya. The two grabbed a handful of berries and a flask of water to share through the day. Amelia bound her chest down and put on some of the male clothes so that if people asked she could claim to be Thya’s husband. Her hair had always been sheared short out of convenience. They began their journey toward the city stopping to carefully paint the rectangles. They wandered through the city. Thya stole the change purse of a rhombus so the two of them could actually pay for most of the food. Amelia saw Thya staring at a bottle of clear liquid.

“Whats that?” She whispered in Thya’s ear.

Thya was startled. “It’s nothing. It’s just a bottle of alcohol. Our old medicine woman kept a bottle to give to mothers during the birthing process and to clean her tools.”

“Shyra doesn’t have any of that. She uses only herbal methods. It’s healthier for the babies.”

Thya nodded and took Amelia’s hand. “We should head out soon. But grab a basket from the weaver by the edge of the city. It will look normal the next time we come.”

Amelia grabbed a basket and paid for it with her remaining coins. The weaver was very thankful. She was a rectangle with a deformed leg. Amelia smiled to the woman before taking Thya’s hand and heading out of the city. They continued holding hands. Both of them scared of what it entailed but neither wanted to let go. Thya was the one to pull away as they entered camp. They dropped of the food and the woman cooed over the flour they’d been able to buy. Thya went to her family and Amelia went to Cal.

Cal was in the middle of treating one of the children with a scraped knee. He looked up at her and flashed a quick half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Thya sat in the corner of the large med tent until her friend sent the child away.

“How’d it go?” Cal asked wiping his hands clean.

“Really well, Thya knows what she’s doing.” Amelia said. “Will you be helping Shyra with the birth?”

“Yes. In the words of Shyra I ‘need to get over it and steal myself because one day I’ll have to do it all on my own’. She always talks like she’s going to die tomorrow.” Cal said rolling his eyes.

“Yeah.” An awkward silence fell over the two.

“I’m going to miss him.” Cal said softly.

“Me too. He was like our brother.”

Cal blushed. “He was a very different thing for me.”

Amelia turned to her embarrassed friend, “You two...”

“It wasn’t serious. Just the occasional kiss and moonlit walk.” Cal said looking at his hands.

“And neither of you told me?” She said before realizing. “I thought Opus was shagging Francis?”

Cal’s face changed to one of fury. “He never told me. I caught them together one night and he just claimed what we had was nothing, just petty fun.”

“I should have hit him harder.”

“I’ll still miss that rotten bastard.” Cal said.

“Sometimes you have to end something even if it breaks your heart.” Amelia said.

Cal nodded. “So the new girl?”

“Yeah, she’s really ...” Amelia trailed off and Cal smirked.

“Alluring? Interesting? Beautiful?” He suggested playfully.

“Piss off.” Amelia smiled.

“What’s with the head covering?”

“Just modesty. A woman at her old camp taught her 3how to tie and she believes it protects her from evil.”

Cal nodded and shrugged. “To each their own. Send someone when dinners ready.” He laid on the woven rug on the ground.

Amelia made her way to the men and women cooking and began to help one of the women make dumplings. It was a delicacy she and most of the others had never had before but now they had the four to make them. The entire camp had two milk cows and five chickens some rhombus donated to them. The eggs would some times be added into soups because there was never enough for everyone to get a satisfying portion.

She brought a large bowl of the dumplings and meat to Thya’s mother.

“There’s no need to thank me. You should rest as much as possible.” Amelia said and the woman gave her a tired but thankful smile.

Amelia returned grabbing herself and Cal smaller bowls. She dropped his off with minimum teasing and sat next to Thya and her family for dinner. Amelia was tackled by one of the small children.

“Darwin?” She guessed. The small boy giggled and climbed off her before sitting next to her.

“Miss. Amelia? Who are these people?” The boy asked her quietly.

“They just traveled here. This is Thya, her brother Lance and her pregnant mother...” Amelia trailed off.

“Grace.” The woman smiled.

“You’re a kid like me!” Darwin said pointing at Lance who nodded.

“Excellent observation there, squirt.” Amelia teased.

“You know one day I’m gonna be taller than you!” Darwin said sticking out his tongue.

“Is that before or after you get married to Yani?” Amelia smiled.

“Ew girls are gross! I’m going to live alone!”

“I’m gross?” Amelia said pretending to be hurt.

“Not you.”

“Thanks, shorty. Go back to your father and help clean the dishes. Take Lance with you.”

As the child ran away Amelia turned to the mother daughter duo. “His mother died during the labor of his twin sister. He was the only one who made it. His sister was a ghost child.” The women nodded somberly.

Ghost children were children that were born dead, whether they were early or not. Whenever the camp had a ghost child born everyone pitched in to help the family grieve. The men would gather around a bonfire where the body of the child would burn and they would sit until dawn singing a hollow tune. The children made leaf toys that were thrown in the fire so the child had something to play with. The women slept altogether and stared at the stars. Amelia remembered tying the tiny doll made of twigs and dried grass. She remembered watching it burn and hoping the spirit of the child enjoyed playing with it.

Thya spoke up, “There was the birth of a ghost child at our old camp. Our custom had the entire camp singing into the night.”

“I’m sure the child’s spirit appreciated it.” Amelia said softly resting her hand on top of the other girls.

Thya nodded her covering shifting and moving along with the movement. The group ate dinner quietly and Amelia was the first to leave heading to get a verbal list of items from one of the elder woman that knew what could easily be made. She eventually fell asleep to the smell of burning wood and the feeling of hard earth on her back.

The days bled into each other. Amelia became closer with Thya as they continued working together. They brought back enough food that some days they didn’t have to go out. Those days they stayed behind and helped a few women with laundry or planting as the camp had begun to try farming and gathering it’s own food from that. One day as Amelia and Thya were heading back from the city, Lance came sprinting down the path.

“Ma’s in labor!!” He shouted repeatedly.

Thya dropped the baskets she was carrying and sprinted past him, holding her covering so it didn’t blow off. Amelia scooped up her baskets and walked back to camp with the boy.

Camp was silent except for the screams and shouting coming from Shyra’s tent. Amelia kept Lance occupied. She watched him and Darwin play together but she kept glancing at the tent. She prayed to her ancestors that everything would go okay.

Come nightfall Thya walked out of the tent holding a small baby wrapped in a blanket. Tears ran down her face. Amelia’s breath caught fearing the babe was a Ghost Child. Then the baby let out a tiny wail. Tears continued to flow down Thya’s face.

Amelia strode towards the girl. “What’s wrong?”

“It- she- We- Look!” Thya pushed the child into Amelia’s arms.

The baby squirmed and cried. “She’s fine, Thya.”

“Look at her arm!”

Amelia gently picked up the flabby arm and saw the small clear square on the child’s skin. The breath was knocked out of her.

The peacemakers searched the camp once a year for any babies of rank. They would steal the baby and give it to a family in the city. Thya’s sister would be stolen from her family.

Part 3

#writing #fantasy #gay #alternate universe

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