#ghost has a split tongue bc i said so

[s0fter-sin]

metalhead ghost who’s been in moshpits since he was a kid and is now a veteran of the scene and the self appointed look out. he keeps an eye out for anyone falling or passing out, kicks the shit out of anyone crowd killing or putting their hands where they shouldn’t

and he’s been keeping an eye on the punk in the kilt since he saw him throw himself headfirst into the wall of death

he looks like the type to start shit - loud and aggressive as anyone else here but a punk doesn't end up at a metal show for no reason - but there's also something niggling at him that he's gonna end up getting himself hurt. and ghost can’t tell if he’s going to do it on purpose

if he does, ghost needs to know. he uses these places as an escape - the music, the violence, the community - always has and he knows all to well how easily an escape can curdle and become destructive. he’s seen too many people lost to the darker parts of the scene, almost lost himself to it; he doesn’t want it to happen to anyone else if he can help it

so when he sees the punk sweating his mohawk off, his movements becoming looser and uncoordinated, he has no issues with yanking him out of the pit and pulling him away from the crowd; pushing him up against the venue wall and ordering him to open his mouth

the glaze that falls over his eyes concerns him even as he obediently lets his mouth fall open. he was right; the punk’s severely dehydrated, tongue and gums far to pale and along with the look in his eyes, he half-thinks he’s about to drop

he reflexively tightens his hold on his jaw to keep him up and the punk shivers, a flush creeping up his neck. an almost confused arousal joins the haze in his eyes and ghost smirks beneath his mask

looks like metal shows aren’t the only thing the punk is new to

#soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost has a split tongue bc i said so #and soaps mohawk is overgrown and fluffy as hell running down the back of his neck #once ghost forces water down his throat soap comes back online and is his usual self and ghost starts to like him even more #he likes having someone that can go toe to toe with him #i wish i knew more about the scene so i could expand this but i dont know shit about punk or metal culture lmao #i do know itd be mid 20s soap and late 30s early 40s ghost and soaps just self destructing #wanting to be an artist but hes being strangled both by his family who think its a waste when hes so mathematically smart #and by the artistic community who hate his pieces for being too chaotic and non traditional #ghost keeps running into him at shows and he recognises that self destruction all too well #and he sees him declining and knows if he doesnt step in no one will #he was a drug addict after getting caught up in abusive relationship with roba #and it was only his brothers death that pulled him out of his spiral #he doesnt want death to be the end of this spitfire punks story #soaps also got that classic catholic guilt internalised homophobia going for him #hes only ever known the bad parts of the scene he didnt know there was anything different #until ghost introduces him to price and nikolai whove been together longer than hes been alive #and to gaz and farah and alex who make no secret of their love for each other and soap realises just how deprived he is of healthy love #not when his parents barely stand him not when his sister only got married when she fell pregnant and they forced her into the church #with a man she hardly knew just so they could keep their reputation #just ghost showing soap theres more to life than violence and hatred and theres so much love for him to discover #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #save post

[ghouljams]

I love when you do the flipped AU's bc the readers get to be even more unhinged and feral

Fae!/Eros!/Succubus!/Some-kind-of-fertility-diety! Love.

I'm talking inconceivable and older than time. I'm talking underestimated and coming off as sweet and innocent but what has waged more wars or spilled more blood than love?

To the vibes of the song "Ambrosia Wine" by Madds Buckley.

Ghost gets lulled into a false sense of security, but there's something that nags at the back of his mind that there's more to her and he can't shake the hold it has on him.

And Love is used to people worshipping only one epithet of her and scorning the other. Those who want to believe she's just a being of love and ignore the atrocities and violence of her being because they are disgusted and fearful of it. And those who want her powers of bloodshed and scorn the idea that love could ever be powerful or anything for than silly and flimsy fancy.

And then there's Ghost who whole heartedly loves every facet of her. And not one at a time. But all at once. Together. Because to him it's inconceivable to separate love and devotion from violence. What is a kiss if not a bite?

Ghost giving "babygirl of the unhinged villain" vibes, some real "don't save me I'm not a damsel this is my skrunkly" energy. He comes across as "you want to fix her? Grow up. The atrocities are part of her, and I've decided they're cute."

They both love so fiercely.

(also if Love is not human then that means she gets to split her mouth and unhinged her jaw like a snake just to place her warm mouth over Ghost, her teeth pinning him in place so he can't run - not that hed ever try - so that he feels them scrape and mark his abdomen as an inconceivably wet and hot tongue that burns the skin it touches with want plays with his balls while his cock halfway down her throat. There's no part of him uncovered, no part of him he doesn't willingly surrender to her, and no part of him that she leaves untouched as she suckles. Her unhinged jaw is practically a seat and her wet cavern feels like it has a thousand tongues the way he can feel warmth caressing his balls, his taint, his cock, occasionally dipping down to prod at his clenching hole but not quite breaching. Not willing to give in until he admits how much he wants it. But always, always, returning to his balls. His orgasms are like spiritual awakenings - and aren't they? In a way? - and his cum near quadruples in her presence. Her aphrodisiac fluids taste like ambrosia. Addicting. Like a Venus fly trap ensnaring it's meal. She consumes him in every meaning of the word. Living off his seed which seems to boost her powers in a constant positive feedback loop.)

I am shamelessly already working on a fic for fae/monster!Love and Ghost because of exactly what you said.

Ghost's love is violent, it's the result of violence and enacted with violence in mind. Not the sort of violence that leads to abuse, the sort that fears it. Ghost can't separate love from violence. He loved his family so he killed for them, beat his father for them. He's a violent man, but he loves to avoid it, to pretend he can separate the two. Ghost has nightmares about hurting women, about hurting his family, he loves so much it scares him because he knows he'd do anything in the name of love. He makes me think specifically about these four lines from "In My Room" by ICP(and also the anguished guilt at the end):

Without you, I'd bring a shotgun to school And I will if you want me to, for any reason I hate that you leave when the lights come on And if I had it my way, the fuckin' sun would be gone

fae/deity/monster!Love as the embodiment of the emotion would immediately be drawn to Ghost, he's every facet of devotion, he's the good, the bad, and the ugly. He's the person who knows exactly what he has to lose and fights like it. Ghost is a lover and a fighter. And similarly I think Love would be a sort of siren song for him, this immaculate creature that seems to understand him implicitly, who doesn't hear answers without understanding them, who would lick the blood from his knife and tell him he'd done a good job. Love that would do anything for him, repay his strange violent devotion with equal measure and adore him still.

Love that seems to feed off of him and into him. Trapped in a cycle of exchange. Ghost never feels better than when he's with her, never feels worse when he's away. Of course she licks him, worships him, reverent to his cock, to the soft skin of his thighs and stomach, to every part of him that speaks to virility and strength. They're a perfect match, two people(who don't consider themselves people) who understand the way love consumes.

Anyway I'm still in love with you, and I hope you keep sending me these amazing thoughts because I'm living for them.

#ghoul speaks #x oc #cod x oc #ghost x oc #oc: love #Love cuts his heart from his chest to display on her mantle #the ultimate trophy from the only human who could understand her #and Ghost walks around the perfect soldier #never killed because for all intents and purposes love is the only thing keeping him alive

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

HEY BESTIE ITS ME AGAIN! i was wondering if i could get a will request with angst. LOTS AND LOTS of angst about will and the reader seeming to always miss each other in sense of relationships and because of that the reader distanced themself from will so months pass by and they both are single then and they run into each other and eventually get into a fight bc he’s upset that they ghosted him and eventually have an angry love confession and happy ending?

thank u sm bff

YOU WANT ANGST, I"LL GIVE YOU ANGST...in a fairly decent amount cause this was hard to write for some reason🙃 sorryyyy @poulterfilms

~~~~~~~~~~

Why did life have to be so hard?

You watched as Will got ready for his date that night, giddy and excited to be going out, rambling on and on about how nice this person was, who he met a few days prior.

You just smiled and nodded along, pretending that your heart wasn't painfully throbbing with jealousy.

You hated this feeling, longing. It was strange, you never felt this way before with Will. You've been friends with him as long as you can remember, seen him have plenty of dates with other people. So why did you suddenly feel like you wanted him all to yourself? It wasn't like you at all.

"So, what do you think?" Will asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slowly spinning around to show off his outfit.

You plastered on that same fake smile that you unfortunately got into the habit of doing nowadays. "You look great, Will. You always do." You didn't mean to sound so sad, but it came out that way and you internally cringed.

Will cocked his head with a confused grin. "You okay?"

You nodded your head eagerly. "Of course!" You stood up from where you sat and quickly adjusted the collar of Will's shirt, struggling to pull away when he smiled at you. "I always have to fix that damn shirt collar." You chuckled weakly, forcing yourself to take a couple steps back.

Will copied your chuckle, turning around to do a once over in his mirror. "What would I do without you?" He joked, but you frowned for a split second before shaking your head.

"Well, don't wanna keep the lucky date waiting, right?" You patted him on the shoulder, maybe a little too hard since Will rubbed his shoulder with a grimace afterwards.

"You are absolutely right. I'll be off then, night, love!" Will placed a quick kiss to your cheek, heading out of his house, leaving you alone with the ghost of the kiss lingering on your cheek. The innocent, and most importantly, friendly kiss.

You looked around the living room solemnly, looking to your feet to see the two pups you were trusted to take care of while the owner was out of his date. Welp, at least I have his dogs to share my misery with...

You had no idea how you let this happen. You've always seen Will as a friend, and nothing more. You've both hyped each other up when one of you scored a date. Will has seen you off to plenty of dates and never had a problem with it, so why couldn't you do the same for him?

Unbeknownst to you, Will actually has had similar feelings. He didn't know how it happened, but he developed strong feelings for you. He clearly knew you didn't feel the same, and he had to sit idly by as he watched you be in and out of relationships with people who weren't him.

He's never been one to get jealous, but he'd definitely be lying if he said he never was jealous of your partners. He wanted to be the one to hold your hand, he wanted to be the one to open doors for you, to be the one you smiled at when he wasn't looking. He decided to move on, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But his respect for you trumped his lust that he felt at the same time, he just wished he could turn his feelings off.

You decided to hole up in your apartment after Will came back from his date, the date that went "extremely well." The "he'd definitely be seeing this person again" date.

You couldn't say you were devastated, for obvious reasons. You didn't want to tell Will you had feelings for him, and you didn't want to be selfish. You always felt selfish nowadays.

You just felt like a burden.

It was hard hanging out with Will, always having to hear about his new partner, how they're so nice and kind and caring and apparently so fuckin' amazing...it made you want to vomit. It made you not want to hang out with him as much anymore, but thankfully, that decision was made for you. Will didn't have time for you anymore, he really wanted to make his relationship with this new person work, more than he wanted to keep your friendship strong, you thought.

Eventually, you just stopped trying to initiate conversations. Will would text you, all the time really, he'd just be too busy to see you. Between acting roles and sending time with his partner, you'd only be with him through text messages.

An epiphany struck you one day: you deserved better.

You knew you were right, and that's why it made your choice to painful. You had to cut ties with Will, but you had no idea how you'd do that without breaking down.

You took the coward's way out, at least, you thought it was cowardly.

You simply just stopped replying to his text messages. But once he started to text you messages like "can we talk?" you thought you might give him a chance. You said you'd do it tomorrow, then tomorrow turned into the next day, then a week passes, then a month. You stopped thinking about it, you didn't want to think about it, because every time you did, the urge to contact Will got stronger and stronger. You wanted to move on. You needed to move on. But, you never could get him out of your thoughts completely.

Months and months go by, and before you know it, it's Christmastime.

You'd decided to travel around after cutting off contact with Will, mostly just couch hopping with friends, exploring the area to get your mind off how heart broken you felt. It was a good distraction, for awhile. But now that Christmas was soon, you had to go back to your home town; you did miss your family quite a lot. But you did feel that similar anxiousness after coming back home, thinking about Will and the "what ifs." Will always loved spending time with his family during the holidays, and you knew he'd probably be in town.

Just going outside to check the mail was nerve wracking to you, but you chuckled bitterly at your paranoia, it's not like he was going to show up at your house out of the blue. He wouldn't do that.

Your family really wanted a Christmas tree, a real one. You tried to use your allergies as an excuse to just stick with an artificial tree, but your parents were dead set on having a real tree. It wasn't exactly a lie, you used to get real trees, you just couldn't be around one too closely or else you get into a sneezing fit. But you really just didn't want to be out in the town, just in case.

But your family dragged you along to help pick out a tree anyway, in the freezing cold.

You idly kicked some icicles that were formed on the bottom of tree branches, smiling subtly to yourself as you heard the crackle of the ice hitting the concrete. You looked over to see your family still trying to decide on what kind of tree they wanted, and you remembered how indecisive your folks were. You were gonna be there for awhile...

"Y/n?" As if you weren't freezing enough, the voice that you heard from beside you made a chill go up your spine, causing you to sink down more into your coat.

You looked to your left, unluckily for you, seeing your former best friend beside you, an unreadable expression on his face. "Will...? Uh, w-what are you doing here?" You weren't sure if it was the cold that made you stutter, or just the pure nervousness and almost fear that you felt.

Will uncomfortably shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath before answering. "My, uh, mum wanted to have a tree this year. I'm guessing yours did too?"

You nodded curtly. "Yep."

The awkward silence made you want to curl up into a ball and throw yourself off a cliff.

"We should probably talk." Will said.

"Uh," You nervously rubbed your hands together, "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why not?" He asked bluntly, his expression turning cold.

You sighed. "I...well, I have to help my parents get this tree so..."

"Fine. I'll come by later."

"Wait-"

"See you tonight." And with that, Will walked away in a hurry, not giving you the chance to refuse.

You bit the inside of your lip hard, a coppery taste coating the tip of your tongue when you explored the small dent in your mouth that you created from stress.

You figured this day would come soon enough. Karma's a bitch, as some say. You thought you'd have a bit more time to prepare yourself for a confrontation, but the universe decided to be a jerk and sucker punch you in the face with your regrets.

You went home, feeling like a knife was twisting in your gut as you helped your family set up your Christmas tree in the living room, constantly glancing at the clock every chance you could.

Eventually, your family decided to leave the house once more, having bought tickets to a play that night, which you politely declined to go to. You weren't interested in yet another retelling of the Christmas story acted out by little bratty children who couldn't remember their lines half the time. No, you have somewhat decent standards.

You just sat on the living room couch with your family pet, staring at the clock, seeing the hands move slowly until it finally reached nine o'clock. You untensed for a moment, thinking that maybe Will decided to not come over. The loud ring of the doorbell quickly squashed that idea.

You opened the door, not surprised to see Will on the other side, his cold expression unchanged from when you last saw him.

You said nothing as you moved aside, opening the door wider for Will as he walked in.

The air felt thick, like there wasn't enough oxygen for both of you to be in the same room. It felt similar to whenever you pulled your blankets over your head when you were little and afraid of the dark, thinking that nothing can hurt you if you were completely wrapped up in the comfort of your duvet, but never getting enough fresh air to keep those blankets over your head, eventually having to pull the blankets off to breathe. You really wished you had a blanket now...

"Well?" Will broke the silence, looking to you expectantly.

You shrugged slightly. "Well what?"

Will chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "You know what, Y/n." When you didn't reply, he continued. "You stop talking to me all of a sudden, for months, not even telling me why. I need to know why, I deserve an explanation."

You sighed, looking anywhere but at him. "I just...needed some time away..." What a fucking lie...

"Some time away, really? That's your excuse? We were best friends, everything was fine, so what went wrong, huh? Why did you just up and leave everything behind without telling me?" You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself as his voice got louder with every sentence. "Are you even listening to me? Do you hate me now, is that it? I don't know what I did, please, tell me." He pleaded.

"Will..." You whispered, finally looking to him to see unshed tears in his eyes. "it was me, not you. You didn't do anything wrong..."

Will stepped closer to you, his arms crossed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt to be ghosted by the one person you thought cared about you the most? It really fucking hurt. And now, you're just standing here like you don't even care."

"I do care, Will." You said softly, reaching out to touch him but he quickly flinched away.

"Then why did you leave? I want the truth."

"I wasn't happy...with myself...with you." You started, walking over to take a seat on your couch. "I felt alone. You spent all your time with your partner, you rarely had time for me anymore."

"Wait, my partner?"

"Yeah...the beginning of this year, you started dating that person, I forgot their name..."

Will shook his head. "It didn't work out with them, I'm not seeing anyone, haven't for awhile. But that's not the point. Why didn't you just tell me that you felt alone? You know I would've made time for you if that's what you needed."

You felt like you wanted to scream, frustration starting to consume you, but you settled for a muffled groan. "It wasn't just because I felt alone..."

"Then what?"

Fuck it...

"Because I hated seeing you date other people. I absolutely hated it. And when you started gushing about how amazing this person was, I felt like I wanted to bash my head in with a hammer." Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated, but you got your point across.

"You didn't want me to date other people?" Will's heart beat rapidly in his chest, just the thought of why you possibly felt that was making him anxious to ask, "Why?"

You were scared to answer, afraid of his reaction. What if he hated you? That would be the worst case scenario, you'd rather die than have him hate you. But, you did owe it to Will to tell him the truth. The unfiltered, honest truth.

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember. We always told each other everything." You smiled weakly. "We'd always be happy for each other whenever we went on dates and found people that made us happy. But...there was a point where I realized that no matter how many dates I went on with other people, I never truly found happiness in those people. Because, I always thought about someone else...you." You looked up at Will. "You've always been the one person to make me truly happy. And I finally figured it out, it's not because you were my best friend, it's because...you're the one I always wanted to be with, Will."

Will took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to take in your words. "That night, when I was about to go on that date, you weren't yourself. You looked sad..."

"I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me." You wiped away a few fallen tears with your sleeve, sighing tearfully. "I was being selfish...really selfish." You frowned.

Will carefully sat beside you, looking straight ahead. The red and green lights placed crookedly on the Douglas fir being one of the only light sources in the room, illuminating your tear ridden face and causing a reflective shine to Will's glassy sorrowful eyes.

"I had no idea." Will said, being the first one to break the silence yet again.

"That was kind of the point." You sniffled, curling your knees up to your chest.

"...I'm sorry."

You furrowed your brows, looking to Will in confusion. "Why are you sorry? I'm the only one who should be sorry."

Will shook his head. "No..." He laughed sharply, clenching his fists in his lap. "It's funny."

"What is?" You asked, trying not to sound offended.

"I've spend years trying to get over my feelings for you, and you tried to do the same. Guess I'm not as intuitive as I thought."

You silently gasped. "Will? You...? Huh?"

Will smiled weakly. "I only started dating other people because I was trying to push away my feelings for you, and of course, it didn't work."

"Will, if this is some joke-"

"It's not. Have I ever lied to you?"

"...no. You've had feelings for me this entire time? And I punished you for it..." You said as you felt the tears well up in your eyes again.

"No, Y/n, no. You had no way of knowing, just like I had no way of knowing how you felt about me."

"I'm so sorry, Will. I never should've left."

Will quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You're here now. It's okay...we're okay."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Will smiled softly. "Of course. I've never been able to stay mad at you for long."

You frowned. "What if I deserve it?"

"No. No, you don't. It's all going to be okay."

You took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears again as Will pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "What now?"

"Maybe it's too early to ask but...we could go on a date." Will chuckled weakly.

You looked back up at Will, trying to hide your growing smile. "Really?"

"If that's what you want."

You looked at the clock. "It's getting a little late, I don't think that many places would be open right now. We could go out tomorrow?"

"It's a date." Will smiled.

You sighed. "I really wish I would've talked to you about this instead of running away..."

Will shook his head, bringing his hand up to gently caress your cheek. "I shouldn't have raised my voice earlier. So now we both have something we regret. But it's okay, Y/n. I felt like running away quite a few times myself whenever you went out with someone else...or just hiring a hitman or something."

You laughed genuinely, playfully pushing Will's shoulder. "I think my family is gonna be home soon."

"That's my cue to leave, I take it?"

You pouted. "I don't want you to."

"Well, hey, we'll see each other tomorrow." He smiled.

You walked Will to your front door, frowning as he opened it. "I never used to be the clingy type with anyone."

Will turned around to face you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm hug. "It's all going to be okay. We're gonna do this thing right."

You pulled away with a huff, looking deeply into his eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now." You giggled.

Will grinned, replying to your statement by leaning in, delicately brushing his lips over yours before fully placing them onto yours passionately. You could truthfully say that the kiss made you weak in the knees, it was everything you imagined it to be and more. It was intoxicating.

The kiss quickly got heated, and you didn't know if you'd be able to stop yourself. Will grabbed at your sides, trying to pull you even closer than you were already, eliciting a quiet moan from you when he gently pulled on the roots of your hair. But you finally forced yourself to stop, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry." Will quickly apologized.

"I didn't want to stop." You snickered, running your hands through your now tangled hair. "We haven't even gone on our first date yet and I already want to rip your clothes off."

Will blushed and grinned. "Guess we'll just have to save it for tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow it is."

~~~~~~~~~

I had trouble writing this, if you couldn't already tell. Ugh, I have no idea why the reunion bit threw me off balance so badly

#will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader

[fantasydaydreamers]

"Behind Brothel Doors Pt. 4"

Summary: ✨Part 1✨•✨ Part 2✨•✨ Part 3✨

Words: 5,558

Warnings: Smut

Authors Note: Merry Christmas and happy holidays~ I love you guys💕💕 (please have another pair of underwear ready~)

✨ Please keep in mind this is a quirkless au ✨

A week later you found yourself sitting on your best friend's bed, your head buried in your hands.

"You. Did. WHAT?!"

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath, regretting ever telling her everything because now the embarrassment was unbearable, and overall you felt like you had a serious problem developing. The confession just happened to slip out...you didn't mean to tell her every single detail, but once you started, you couldn't stop. Recalling everything still felt so vivid and by the concerned expression on your best friend's face, you could understand why.

"What have I done." It was more of a statement rather than a question on her part as she stared at you, her expression blank and empty. Rolling your eyes, you wave your hand at her, brushing off her concerns although you're not sure you disagreed with her.

"It's fine. I just wanted to try a different guy...no big deal." It pained you to refer to Dabi as just a 'different guy,' but now you can understand why this was quickly becoming a problem. You hardly knew these men, only well acquainted with their private parts, but something about the mystery behind the boys at the brothel had you reeling back.

It had also been a week since your encounter with Dabi and Shouto, your promise to come back making you wonder what your next move was. You could technically go and see Shouto whenever, but you just saw Dabi and it all seemed too soon. Shigaraki...maybe, but the situation that happened last time seemed more intense than what you could prepare for and you didn't think you were ready for that either.

"No big deal? No big deal?! (Y/n), do you hear yourself?! Oh my God, you're addicted to dick and it's all because of me-" You tune her out as soon as she starts to ramble, fully admitting this was a mistake and you regret it. Sighing gently, you mentally begin to think of what your plan should be, come your next visit when suddenly your phone buzzed next to you. 

Unknown: Heyyyyy (Y/n)~!!

Confused by the unknown number and how the person knew your name, it seemed sketchy but something in you pushed you to answer.

(Y/n): Who is this?

The anticipation waiting to see who it was didn't last long as the person responded almost immediately. 

Unknown: Ohhh! Sorry! This is Kaminari! I saved your number in my phone when I stole it...hope u don't mind~

Speaking of your current problem and latest obsession, you felt your heart drop in your chest. Your friend kept rambling on, but you couldn't pay attention any longer, your mind and body wanting to only be at one place right now, surrounded by those countless boys who've captured your curiosity.

(Y/n): Omg. No...I don't mind. What's up?

Kaminari: Welllll I was off today and was wondering if you wanted to hang out ;) you don't have to pay or anything~ bc I'm inviting you to my room.

That made your heart skip a beat and you bit your lip. Hang out? You didn't know what that meant and something told you that Kaminari liked mischief. Him stealing your phone last time was proof of that.

(Y/n): Surree...when do you want to hang?

Kaminari: How about this afternoon? ;)

"(Y/n)! Are you even listening to me?!" Your best friend calls out to you, exasperated. Looking up from your phone, you hum and look back down, quickly sending a reply to Kaminari.

(Y/n): Sounds good. See you soon :)

"Lying ass bitch." Your friend mumbles, dropping the subject and moving to sit on the other side of the bed, pulling out two game controllers. "Just don't come crying to me when you're broke and horny."

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the controller from her hands while denying her accusation. As confident as you sounded, you just couldn't bring yourself to believe it.

~*~*~*~*

Walking through the front doors of the brothel was starting to feel normal although this was only your third time here. Immediately, your eyes fly to the front desk to see who was working, and if you've met him already. Surprisingly, you see a new male sitting at the desk with a little boy and girl sitting next to him scribbling on some paper. Kids? What are kids doing here?

Glancing down at your phone quickly, you send a text to Kaminari letting him know you were here. Without realizing it, your feet carried you over to the purple-haired man sitting tiredly at the desk, watching the two kids color. It was midday so you're not exactly sure what was going on, but the idea of kids being inside a sex house was a highly uncomfortable thought.

The purple-haired man looked up when he heard your footsteps coming closer and his eyes widened slightly and moved away from the kids. He could clearly read the expression on your face and held his hands up. Just as he was about to speak, you heard your name being called, making you turn around, Kaminari bounding towards you with a smiling Dabi behind him.

"(Y/n)! You made it! I brought Dabi along to surprise you, but he can't hang out with us since he has an appointment." Kaminari hugs you from the side and sticks his tongue out playfully at Dabi.

You heard every word that came out of Kaminari's mouth, but the sight of Dabi behind him captured your heart as he was giving you one of the softest smiles you've ever seen, something that made you feel special. He walked up to you as Kaminari pulled back giving him space to wrap his arms around you. You all but melted into the embrace, Dabi's warmth heating more than just your body as you also smelled the familiar scent of cigarettes lingering on his clothes.

"Hanging out, hm?" Dabi murmured in your hair, kissing your head as he pulled back to stare at you still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. He didn't look bothered by the fact and it was true, you didn't see exactly where your evening with Kaminari was going, but one thing was sure and that was: you weren't paying.

"Appointment, hm?" You retort playfully and Dabi smirks, his eyes flashing. He was just about to comment when a small force tugged on Dabi's arm around your waist.

"Dabi! Look what I drew!" A little girl's voice commanded, staring up innocently at the two of you. Dabi pulls back from you and squats down to examine the drawing, the white-haired little girl looking proud at her accomplishment, the little boy standing a few feet behind her, scowling slightly at Dabi.

You watch their interaction with more curiosity than before, your eyes darting to meet the purple-haired man's gaze again who was still staring at you with Kaminari talking to him. His gaze was far too intense and mysterious that you couldn't hold eye contact for long before having to look away. Squatting down on the other side of the little girl, you look at her drawing of what seemed to be her next to a few guys and the little boy. You could immediately recognize one of them as Dabi and the purple-haired man, but the other two men were a mystery.

"I drew daddy and you and Hito and Kota and Kota's daddy..." The little girl described her drawing anyway and suddenly it dawned on you that this little girl was waiting on her dad. Your thoughts must've shown on your face because Dabi noticed it and spoke up.

"That's a beautiful drawing, Eri. Your daddy is a hard-working businessman, isn't he?" Dabi had put an emphasis tone when he said 'businessman' and your eyes widened before nodding in agreement. Just then, the little boy off to the side scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Not as hard as my daddy..." The boy pouts and Eri sticks her tongue out at him. Dabi grins and reaches over and ruffles the boys' hair, chuckling as the boy tried to push him away.

"Are you going to show me your drawing too, Kota?" Dabi teases, trying to peak over the piece of paper. Kota pulls back as Dabi creeps forward his fingers out in a tickle stance. Kota looks panicked for a split second before taking off around the lobby, screaming as Dabi laughed maniacally, trying to catch him.

The sight had your heart fluttering watching how Dabi interacted with kids. It was strange, but the thought of him being good with them made you happy. A small hand tugged on your sleeve and you look back over, seeing Eri stare at you expectantly. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! My name is (Y/n)! It's nice to meet you, Eri." You smile at her gently and she smiles back.

"Do you know my dad?"

Her next question made your heart skip a beat and you hoped your panic wasn't visible. "I don't believe so...I'm just here visiting." You smile gently again and she nods her head solemnly.

"Well, you should meet him one day. Sometimes I have to come with him to work and Hito or Dabi or even sometimes Kota's dad stays with me until he's done with his meetings." Eri seemed so proud talking about her dad and you just knew, by all means, she needed to be protected. Same with Kota.

You're about to ask about 'Hito' when all you heard was screaming laughter from Kota as Dabi walked back over smiling with his hair disheveled and Kota thrown over his shoulder. Dabi was busy catching his breath as Kota laughed from hanging upside-down, his knees on Dabi's shoulders as his head swung against Dabi's chest. Kota managed to calm himself down and Dabi gently lifted his torso and Kota maneuvered his way onto Dabi's shoulders, delighted to be up high.

You smile up at Dabi and stand up, before smiling up at Kota. "Hi, Kota my name is (Y/n)! It's nice to meet you." A pink tinge ghosted Kota's cheeks as he looked away shyly. Dabi chuckled.

"He's shy around new people."

"I'm not shy!" Kota puffed his cheeks out, pulling on Dabi's hair, making him wince.

"Be nice or I'll take you downstairs," Dabi warned seriously and Eri and Kota both gasped. You looked at Dabi in question and he shrugged.

"Downstairs is haunted and scary and only adults are allowed there, right Kota and Eri?" Kaminari spoke up this time and you look over to see the purple-haired man nodding along with what was being said.

"Daddy doesn't even go down there," Kota whispered up at you and you feigned surprise.

From the talk of the building being 'haunted' Dabi reaches up and lifts Kota off and you watch as he and Eri start whispering to each other, looking around the room in suspicion. You and Dabi walk over to Kaminari as he motions to the man beside him. "This is Shinsou, or as Eri says, Hito."

Now that you have a face to a name, you just need to know who Eri and Kota's dads were. You smile at Shinsou and hold out your hand despite the need to look away from his deep purple irises. He takes your hand and shakes it softly, but the only thing you noticed was just how big his hands were. 

He doesn't say a greeting back besides doing a small nod. Kaminari rolls his eyes and was just about to say something when the door to the brothel opened again. All of you look towards the person and Dabi steps forward, looking towards Shinsou for help. What you didn't expect was the almost hypnotizing voice escape Shinsou's mouth, his voice deep and low.

"Kota, Eri, come here. I forgot to show you that Moka had her kittens." Immediately, the kids run over to him, gasping and begging for pictures. It was amazing. You watched as Dabi pulled his client to the door leading downstairs without the kids seeing and he catches your gaze right before he closes the door.

There was a look of longing on his face and you blew him a kiss, which blessed you with a grin in return as he closed the door.

Kaminari appeared at your side seeing at the two kids are now fully distracted and pulls you away. "C'mon (Y/n)! Let's go as well before they notice." Instead of heading to the Sinners door, Kaminari leads you to the elevator that goes up.

"I thought we were going to your room?" You ask, strictly remembering when Kaminari introduced himself to you last time, he also gave away his floor number.

Kaminari pressed the call button and danced impatiently in his spot as the two of you waited for the lift. He also glanced behind him briefly and waved making you turn too and Shinsou waved back. The elevator dinged and you turned back, stepping through as Kaminari followed your lead, pressing a button to the fourth floor, reminding you of your visit with Bakugou the very first time you came here. "Ah...I thought since Dabi couldn't hang out, I could introduce you to my other friend. I texted him after you and he's really cool! You'll like him!"

As the door closed, you leaned against the wall relieved the kids didn't seem to expect anything.  "So why are there kids in the Brothel?" You ask, still slightly weirded out by the fact that they hang around in the lobby sometimes.

Kaminari sighs and smiles at you sadly. "I understand it's weird, but you need to trust me that every dude that works here protects them with everything they got if something were to happen. Kota and Eri both have single dads that work here and for all they know, they think it's a business office." Kaminari chuckles. "There are times when they have to be here and wait in the lobby if there was a scheduling conflict."

That made a whole lot of sense but you just had one other burning question that was too personal to ask. Did the fathers get the girls pregnant at the Brothel?

The elevator dinged, signaling you landed on the fourth floor, as you were busy biting your lip thinking about your question. Kaminari stepped forward and grabbed your hand, leading you down the opposite hallway you went for Bakugou. As far as the explanation went, that's all Kaminari gave you and you deemed it enough to satisfy you for now.

Coming up to a red door, Kaminari doesn't even bother knocking as he throws the door open, waltzing inside. "Kirishima!"

Panicking a little from Kaminari being so bold and reckless, you almost wanted to tell him to 'shh,' but reluctantly followed him inside feeling embarrassed. Closing the door behind you, you could hear loud rock music from behind a closed door which Kaminari immediately beelined too, throwing that one open as well.

"Hey man! I'm here and I brought a guest!" Kaminari disappeared from your point of view as he walked in the room, the music lowering a bit. Turning the corner of the doorframe, you come face-to-face with bare muscles shining with sweat as the red-haired man curled dumbells. Your jaw practically hit the floor when the man caught your gaze and flashed you the brightest smile you've ever seen, putting the heavyweights down as he walked over to you.

"Hey (Y/n)! I've heard a lot about you, my name is Kirishima!" He holds out his hand for you to shake, and that comment of 'hearing a lot about you' made you uneasy again as Kaminari had said the same thing. Not only that, but you couldn't help but run your eyes ever his built frame, in awe from that much muscle and you could feel your face start to get warm.

"H-hi." You weakly hold your hand out, his calloused one enveloping yours, and firmly shakes it. God, who is this guy? A greek god? He smiles brightly and pulls back to grab a towel on a bench to wipe his forehead. A few strands of his hair which was held back in a small pony-tail struck to the sides of his face and a long-running scar traced diagonally over his abdomen. It started on the side of his right pec and ended just over his abs. He looked devilishly sexy. 

Breaking your gaze from his rippling abs, you glance around noticing you were in a small personal gym that held small workout equipment and didn't have to take up much space. Kirishima notices you look around and laughs shyly. "Sorry, I didn't know when you and Kaminari would be stopping by so I thought I should just do my daily workout while I wait. I didn't realize how late it's gotten."

Kaminari rolls his eyes and walks or to Kirishima, poking his bicep. "Like you really need to work out every day." Kirishima laughs at that but narrows his eyes at Kaminari.

"That's funny hearing you complain about it, Kami, when just the other night-"

Kaminari's cheeks tinge pink and he quickly looks towards you changing the topic. "Ok! Well, I was thinking of playing video games or something. I could go back to my room and get the games and maybe some snacks?"

You looked back and forth between the two before smiling and nodding in agreement. "I have to warn you though, I'm the queen at Mario Kart." Raising your hand, you pretend to analyze your nails and you hear offended gasps from both of the boys.

"Oooh~ she talks big game too. I like competitive girls." Kirishima seems almost surprised and Kaminari looks downright appalled. Kaminari points a finger at you and backs out of the room with a threatening glare as you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're on." With that, Kaminari slams the door to Kirishima's room as you turn back to him.

Kirishima's gaze was already on you but it was almost predatory the way he swept his eyes up and down your figure. "Hey, (Y/n)...can you help me with a workout real quick?"

Confused as to how you could possibly help this rock with a workout, you shot him a doubting look. Kirishima chuckled but it sounded different than before. "Trust me, babe. Lay on the ground for me."

His voice took on a husky tone as your body visibly shivered at being called 'babe.' Kirishima looked like a whole new person standing in front of you with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he waited expectantly. Gulping audibly, you slowly drop down to his workout mat, staring up at him while waiting for his next instruction.

"On your back." Was his low rumble, also getting down and crawling towards you. Watching Kirishima inch towards you had your mouth drying up as his red irises never wavered from yours, his biceps flexing every time he put a hand down. The low rock music thumped in his speakers but that didn't hide the beating of your heart as your back slowly lowered to the ground as Kirishima moved up your body and finally positioned himself on top of you.

His strong arms planted themselves next to your head, as his hips brushed downwards on yours briefly before he pushed himself up in a push-up position. "I just thought a cutie like you could help give me some motivation as I finish my workout routine."

That innocent, beautiful smile flashed on his face again and you were at a loss on where to put your hands. At my sides? I can't put them around him because he's going to- oh my God.

"Can you count for me?" Kirishima's voice was still deep and husky as he stared down at you, that cheerful smile now morphed into a teasing one as you watched a bead of sweat drip from his hairline, down his neck, and down the middle of his defined abdomen.

Not trusting your voice, you nod your head and Kirishima shakes his head tsking gently. "Say it, cutie." It was a soft demand, but you couldn't trust the glint that never wavered from his eyes.

"What do you want me to count to?" Your voice was a whisper as you struggled to only keep your eyes on his face. Kirishima thinks for a moment, but you find it hard to believe he didn't already know.

"How about ten?"

"Y-yeah. I can count." It sounded stupid coming out of your mouth, but honestly, you were scared to move much less think properly. Kirishima chuckles and whispers, "Good. Ready?"

His whisper washed over you in waves and you felt goosebumps rise over your arms. "Yes," you confirm, and Kirishima bends his elbows, coming down nose-to-nose with you before straightening back up again. It was overwhelming just how close he got with his warm breath fanning over your lips making you poke your tongue out and lick them. "One."

Kirishima follows the movement and comes down again, this time something brushed against yours but it was so light you could've sworn it was only just his breath and not his actual lips. "Two," you whisper again as Kirishima starts to come back down for the third.

Nothing brushed against you that time, but you quickly thought about the fact how dumb you must look crossed-eyed when he comes down close. Your cheeks flush hot, the air around your face was humid, and you weren't even the one doing the work. Kirishima looked normal enough and you weren't surprised with how high his stamina must be. "Three."

Kirishima smirks and comes back down again but holds his position just above your lips, his nose brushing against yours. "I hope you don't mind if I do some planks in between."

You couldn't breathe.

Personal space be damned with his voice so close to your face. It added to the wonderful torture, his body heat radiating on to you. All you could see was his red eyes and without realizing it, you licked your lips again, your tongue brushing against something else.

A sharp intake of breath came from Kirishima as he pushed back up, his eyes darkening considerably. Not knowing if you should apologize or not, Kirishima came back down before you could decide and this time it was certain his lips pressed against yours. Just as you were about to savor it, he pushes back up and waits for you to count. "Four."

The word left your lips in a gasp as Kirishima came back down quickly, doing the next three push-ups quickly, only allowing you to gasp the number out in between kisses.

On the next push-up, he held his plank position again and this time he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding smoothly into your mouth only to quickly push back up but not before nipping your bottom lip with his teeth. "Eight?" You felt dazed and confused as if you were the one doing the workouts.

What the fuck?

It was a drunken feeling the way you were losing your sense of thought, focusing on nothing other than the red-head hunk on top of you. You wanted nothing more than to have him bend you in half right here, right now. Sexy and sensual was the aurora eluding from this man above you, confidence in his expression as he bit his own lips staring down at you.

He comes down again and this time presses his whole body on top of you and you could feel something hard poking you down below. Leaving a lingering peck on your lips, he pushes back up. It was then you realize, at some point during his push-ups, you had reached up to grip his wrist, holding yourself to the ground. "N-nine."

Your voice was slurred as Kirishima didn't wait for you to finish the word as he came back down and fully planted his lips on yours, gliding his tongue in your mouth at your gasp. A low moan worked its way out of his throat that had you whining back, one of your hands running up his bicep feeling the muscle twitch beneath your touch.

"Ten." Gasping out the final number in between breaths of air, Kirishima smirks and trails his mouth down the side of your neck, nipping at your skin as he makes his way to your neck, sucking the sensitive part in his mouth.

A loud gasp leaves your mouth, surprised that he found one of your weak spots already, the smirk against your neck was clear as he nipped at the bruise he made. Your legs widened as Kirishima settled between them, kissing lower and over to your collarbones nipping at them as well. "Y-you like biting."

Your comment was more of a statement rather than a question as you jolted as Kirishima leaned back up to nip at your jaw. He chuckles and pulls back up to look at you. "Are you complaining?"

With one eyebrow raised, he seemed amused, making a show of licking his teeth for good measure. "Nope." You confirm and try to pull him back down for another kiss, not caring if he was slightly sweaty.

"Good. I like marking my territory." The way he said that made your eyes roll back as he descended back down to your neck, his hand coming up to smoothly undo your pants. In a blink of an eye, they were gone and the cool air of the room made you shiver. Kirishima seemed to notice this and moved off of you, which only seemed to make the situation worse.

"Sorry, I have it extra cold in here when I work out...come here." Kirishima sits up and spreads his legs, inviting you in. He flips you around so that your back was against his bare chest and moved his hands under your thighs to spread them open. Your head falls back down on his shoulder as you feel his hand sneak down to your pussy, rubbing over your clothed clit.

Your legs jump as you gasp, Kirishima taking that opportunity to place his legs under yours, your thighs resting on top of his. He kisses your ear gently and rubs his hand up a down your slit, groaning. "Yeah...I'm going to take you just like this."

You pulled at your underwear, anxious, and Kirishima chuckles, letting you move your leg to get them off. As soon as it was off, he fixed your position and went back to stroking your clit. His other hand reached under your shirt and groped your breast, his teeth going back to nibble at your neck. "F-fuck." You try to roll your hips against his finger, encouraging him to do more.

Kirishima chuckles from behind you and dips one finger inside you, moaning hotly against your ear. "This wet already, babe?" His finger pumps in you slowly and feeling him curl it upwards had you whimpering.

"Kirishima-" Moaning his name seemed to spark something within him as he added another finger, pumping the two digits in and out of your dripping pussy. His other hand squeezed your thigh, slapping it slightly, making him growl. "Ah! More...please..."

Kirishima hums and tries for a third finger, the stretch making your hips stop squirming as he hushes you gently. "One more, babe or it's going to be a tight fit."

That comment on its own made you cry out, gasping as he moved his other hand over your clit, helping to distract you from the pressure. "F-fuck me, please!"

"Damnit...hand me that condom real quick, cutie. I can't stop to shower..." Kirishima pants as he tilts his head in the direction of a drawer. It was a small shelf next to the bench you were next too and you lean forward, opening it and blindly reaching in for a condom. Grabbing one, you hand it to him and although you didn't get to see it, you knew Kirishima opened the package with his teeth. He looks over your shoulder as he reaches around and in his gym shorts to pull his member out and roll it on.

As soon as you saw his cock spring free, your pussy clenches down on Kirishima's fingers tightly. Kirishima releases a breathless laugh and removes his fingers, replacing them with his cock.

The feeling of his girth breaching your insides had you arching your back off his chest, overwhelmed and extremely turned on. You were thankful for the preparation because there's no way it would've fit without it. You reach back into Kirishima's damp hair, tugging slightly as he filled you out nicely.

"Hey guys I'm-" Just then Kaminari comes bursting through Kirishima's door again and you were too delirious in pleasure to react appropriately. Kaminari stood in the doorway to the workout room with the games in his hands, along with a bag full of snacks. His mouth was wide open as he watched Kirishima pump his cock in and out of your exposed pussy.

"H-hey Kami. We got a little carried away-fuck-but you're more than welcome to come join." Kirishima grunted out, holding your legs open despite your embarrassment. Without taking his eyes away, Kaminari lowered the items he was carrying on the ground by the door, looking away briefly to dig inside the bag.

You couldn't stop your moans even if you tried, Kirishima's cock hitting you deeply every time and now that Kamianri came back, it was unbearable. Hearing Kirishima laugh next to your ear had you focusing back on Kaminari, watching him crawl towards you with a portable Hitachi wand.

"Planning something for later were you, Kami?" Kirishima grunts, feeling your pussy squeeze him tighter at the sight of the toy. Kaminari smirks and faintly you realize this is where the mischievousness feeling about him came from. "(Y/n) tightened up real nice when she saw that, didn't you babe?" Kirishima slows his thrusts as Kaminari kneels in front of you, placing the toy down so he could rub his hands up and down your thighs.

"Feeling good, (Y/n)? He's big isn't he?" Kaminari purrs, one of his thumbs extending from a hand on your thigh as he rubs at your exposed clit. A squeal left your lips and you jerked, hands tightening in Kirishima's hair for dear life.

Kirishima stops thrusting, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering violently around him. Grunting, Kirishima shifts the two of you and pulls your thighs farther back, Kaminari's eyes twinkling at the sight.

"You two are so sexy~" Kaminari moans, leaning down to lick at your clit, just as Kirishima started thrusting again.

"Oh my fucking-" You jerk again, and Kaminari cackled, closing his lips around your clit, sucking gently as his velvety tongue flicking it at the same time. A scream was crawling up your throat and your mewls and moans were increasing dramatically the more pleasure they gave you.

Kirishima's grunts in your ear, licking the shell of it while looking down at him and Kaminari's ministrations. "(Y/n)...holy shit you feel so fucking good hugging my cock like that. Do you like Kaminari's tongue? It's so soft massaging you like that, hm?" The raspiness in Kirishima's voice became more broken and you and Kaminari both moaned in response.

At this point, it was Kirishima doing all the work moving your hips as you became immovable, not able to move much in general but now it was just helpless. Just when you thought you were about to cum, a sudden vibrating sensation on your clit had you screaming out, your hips jerking widely as you felt liquid leave your pussy in a gush you've never experienced before.

"Fuck!" Kirishima shouted as well, speeding up his thrusts violently and pushing himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing rapidly as he unloaded in the condom, his harsh breathing in your ear. Your vision swam with black spots and there was an intense ringing in your ear, your hips still twitching widely and you couldn't seem to catch your breath.

The sound of the vibrator shut off and finally manage to open your eyes and a softly grinning Kaminari was leaning in close to you. "You okay, (Y/n)?"

"Never- I've-" You couldn't comprehend your voice and couldn't find your words. Kaminari and Kirishima seemed to understand you anyway and Kaminari pecked your lips while Kirishima pecked your temple.

"We're happy to be your first, (Y/n)," Kaminari kissed you again and you finally looked him up and down and saw just how soaked he was.

"Oh my fucking God I'm so-" Kaminari was shaking his head before you could even finish. He stripped himself out of his shirt and Kirishima eased his way out of you, you wincing as he did. Your legs were sore and you felt extremely exhausted, overwhelmed in every way.

Kirishima tied the condom and you look towards Kaminari who was hard in his sweatpants. "What about you?" You ask, embarrassed that you didn't think you could go again. Kaminari waved you off again.

"I think the most important thing right now is a shower. For all of us. Then we can relax and play video games since I think we've finally managed to find a worthy opponent, Kirishima." Kaminari stands up and before you could attempt to, Kirishima sweeps you off your feet.

"We got you, (Y/n)."

It was a comforting shower and you could barely keep your eyes open when the three of you got out. It was no surprise that as soon as your head hit Kirishima's pillow, you were knocked out.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader lemon #mha x reader lemon #bnha imagines #mha imagines #kirishima x reader #Kirishima x reader lemon #kirishima eijirou #kirishima imagine #kaminari x reader #dabi x reader #bnha lemon #mha lemon #Kaminari x reader lemon #Kaminari denki

[slightlymore]

cute~

- a pride spin-off -

pairing: haechan x mark

other characters: doyoung, jaemin, jungwoo, onew (??? only bc I needed a name 😔)

genre: angst!! smut! fluff!!! one-shot, company!au (you can read this without reading "pride" first but make sure to read at least the little synopsis below, just to have some kind of context for the first part)

warnings: 18+, language, sexual activities, alcohol, drunk characters

words: 14K (oops)

for those who didn’t read pride and don't want to: doyoung and y/n are in love with each other but because of a series of unfortunate events (them being stupid) they can’t be together. doyoung leaves her after college and starts working at haechan’s company while being miserable; the two boys become enemies/friends. everything goes relatively well until one day y/n makes an appearance and starts working there as well. doyoung and y/n finally get (their shit) together and become a couple. haechan is the happy friend witnessing all of that and this is his story

(the photo was meant to be a shitpost but now I kinda like it lmaooo)

The phone rang for the millionth time that morning, a piercing and resounding noise, making Haechan unable to hear his own thoughts. The boy groaned. It was only 10 am yet everyone suddenly needed to speak with him. Haechan would have loved to spend his workday gossiping on the phone. Maybe chit-chatting about everyone. Listening to his colleagues talk about George's new too-expensive-for-his pockets-but-he's-an-idiot car, or the scandalous hairstyle Alex tried out to impress his already-married-and-twenty-years-older flame, or to hear how someone heard from someone else that somebody had sex with someone somewhere. But not that day. Haechan was exhausted, physically, and mentally, head buried between his arms, the white noises of the office almost putting him to sleep. The infernal device stopped ringing for a second and the young man sighed relieved before it rang again soon after. Haechan whined, almost sobbing, while lightly hitting his forehead on the desk. A soft 'what the fuck' made him raise his face with pained eyes squinting from the sudden too much light. "Are you alright?", the same voice asked, his desk neighbour inquiring. "Mind your own business, Owen", Haechan mumbled and finally put one hand on the phone while massaging the base of his nose with the other. "... my name is Onew", the dude whispered offended, but Haechan's little attention was already drifting away. A female voice said something that Haechan couldn't catch but to which he replied with a short "yeah, thanks", having figured out the words "intern" and "acceptance" through her quick mumbling. When he first heard the news during the beginning of the year reunion, Haechan was ecstatic, to say the least. They said he was responsible and could handle taking care of an intern making Haechan's shoulders widen at the compliments. Also, having an innocent soul to bother for a few months? It meant some company and less work for himself. Paradise. But Haechan had already forgotten about the joy he felt before. He had been feeling weird for a while now and he hated it. The previous night he didn't go home after Doyoung and Y/N left the company building. He listened to them talk for an excruciating period while pretending to sleep. It was beautiful, choked voices and raw confessions, and he felt like the third wheel in his own life. When Haechan walked out of his office one day, months before that, with the intention of "grabbing something important from somewhere" (or taking a break while making it pass as work) and heard the loud bang of the neighbour office door, he didn’t think that his life would go spiralling down from that moment on. It took him days. No, it took him weeks, maybe months, before the uncomfortable feeling creeping on him, making his spine shiver and palms sweat could be classified as something real by his brain. As a feeling. Sitting down on his chair, tired fingers tapping away at the keyboard for hours, he would suddenly feel this ungodly urge to get up and go to that office again as if an obscure force possessed him. To do what? To see a pair of angry eyes. Angry and full of pain. They were beautiful: round but also angled, dark but also light, absent as if looking at anything but their surroundings. Looking at something only they could see. That thing, sadly, was never Haechan. The boy tried everything to be seen by them. Being friendly, being funny, being helpful. Then he tried being rude. To his immense joy, the latter worked better, as if those eyes hatched such an enormous amount of anger that they had to spill some onto someone. And Haechan didn’t mind being that someone if it also meant being the object of those eyes’ attention at the same time. Then he realized that he didn’t want to see only the eyes. Something else was fighting for Haechan’s regard. Pink and soft looking, often stretched in a line, sometimes forming a pout. God, Haechan would have done everything to be able to touch those lips even once, even for a second. And he did it during his most feverish dreams. The first time, he woke up panting, ashamed, shaken to the core, the feeling of that soft skin still ghosting his own lips. The second time Haechan raised a trembling hand and touched the place where his subconsciousness created such a realistic scenario. He caressed it slowly, laying in that obscure slumber, silently, afraid to wake up his rational side. The third time he didn’t need to dream. He just imagined, shamelessly. His lips got kissed and his name was pronounced with such lust and desire to leave Haechan panting. So real, as if Doyoung whispered that while being beside Haechan in his room. It took Doyoung a few good weeks to call Haechan by his name in real life. When he finally did it, he wasn't even scolding him. No. From weird conjunction of stars, Haechan didn’t need to do something to gain Doyoung’s attention that day. He was in the photocopying room. One hand was mindlessly using the machines, the other was warmly hugging a mug of coffee. His slowly descending glasses were being pushed back by one of his fingers when a fluttering shadow appeared behind him. Haechan’s hands stopped as if his crawling skin could physically predict the future.   “Haechan”, Doyoung said. Just like that, sweet and soft. And the boy with that name let his coffee mug fall to the ground. Oh. “Haechan!” Doyoung repeated. “What the hell?” Yes. Yes. Haechan. That’s me. That’s my name on your lips. Say it again. “Haechan! You’re doing this on purpose now”. Doyoung stood tall with hands on his hips, looking at the way Haechan was failing to grab his mug, letting it comically slip from his hands, again and again, new coffee stains covering the carpet. I just love how my name sounds in your mouth. I don't want you to stop. Please. “Oops”, Haechan chuckled, the mask he carefully crafted for Doyoung easily slipping on his face, and despite everything, Doyoung rolled his eyes with a little smile himself. “You’re such an idiot”. Oh fuck. That. Haechan almost forgot. The boy could drown in the light that Doyoung’s face emitted when he was smiling. It would dissipate for a split second the darkness lingering around him and it was Haechan’s doing. Haechan did that. It made his little heart buzz every time and soon enough he started to fantasize about a day in which Doyoung would not have that expression line between his eyebrows anymore. And it arrived eventually. Haechan realized everything would go downhill for himself when he got blinded by Doyoung’s soul. He could see it before as well but not this way. Not while the older man's cheeks got red and his pupils were trembling. And Haechan understood soon what that was because a sick person recognizes another sick person easily. Was Haechan like that as well? Were his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy every time he looked at Doyoung? Ah, Doyoung’s soul. He took it out so suddenly and poured it into that girl’s hands. Haechan felt like dying. No. No, wait. It's supposed to go like this. I should be there. I worked so hard. I endured so much. It can’t end like this. This is my story. Isn’t it? And it was, but not the type of story Haechan imagined. In this universe it ended in him being alone, bones cold and empty, looking at Doyoung’s back as he carried his love in his arms. Haechan stayed back there, motionless, no arms holding him. He bit his lips for a little while, looking around the office as if not knowing on which planet he was. Then he crouched down and cried. He was tired. Yeah, he was just tired. It has been a long week and a long day. He was exhausted. That was the reason. Haechan, you're good. Just get a good night sleep. You’ll be fine. Now get up and go home. And he did that. Like a robot. He was alone inside the 4 am metro, blinding, fluorescent lights burning his fatigued eyes. His feet dragged him towards his apartment although he found himself knocking on Jaemin's door instead. Jaemin was a weird guy and Haechan loved him dearly. He just never slept. Every time Haechan called him, he somehow was wide awake doing some random shit. Haechan hoped that he didn't suddenly change his habits because he desperately needed some arms to crash into. And Jaemin opened the door as expected, a popsicle between his lips, eyes wide and bright. Haechan stepped inside and took the snack away, putting his lips on Jaemin's instead, pushing him against the wall, letting the coldness of Jaemin's tongue numb his thoughts. And he let the popsicle fall from his fingers when Jaemin wrapped him between his arms, guiding him towards the bedroom, no questions asked, no romance. I need a distraction right now, Haechan's whole being was screaming and Jaemin was good at reading people. Quickly and effortless, clothes sliding down, Haechan's mind finally lingered in a grey bliss as the only thing he could think of was the way Jaemin rolled his hips into him, sending shots of pleasure through his whole body. But then Haechan's slipped. "Doyoung-", he whimpered then gasped, eyes wide with horror and cheeks reddening. Jaemin didn't care if Haechan called other guys’ names but when Haechan put his palms on his face, chest rising and falling quickly, sobbing desperately, Jaemin stopped and sighed. He let Haechan go and rolled over, wrapping his shaking frame with his arms. "Do you want to talk?" he asked softly. Haechan shook his head, burying it into the other's chest. Jaemin stayed quiet, the only sound in the dark room being Haechan's irregular breaths, his fingers delicately drawing patterns on the other’s skin. "It's going to get better", Jaemin whispered after a while. "You're going to be seen by someone one day, just like you see everyone else”. It was weird how Jaemin always had the perfect thing to say. Though Haechan didn’t believe that, he had no force to argue. He stayed like that for the next hour, in silence, until the sun came out. Then he got up and let Jaemin prepare his breakfast that he barely touched. Haechan then borrowed the other's clothes and said it was fine for him to go to work that morning. You have to be sick to be able to call in sick, Haechan said. Because you’re someone that follows rules and does an honest job, Jaemin commented sarcasting with a raise of the brow. I just need to be busy, Haechan added and left.

Now, heading towards the acceptance, he regretted not staying home, maybe sleeping the whole day. Sleeping would be good but dreaming? He was afraid of that. The squeaking sound of Haechan’s shoes on the main floor tiles was so distressing that Haechan felt like taking them off and throw a tantrum in the middle of all those white collars. Blinking fast he sighed when he saw the new guy, an anonymous-looking young man looking around as if uncomfortable and slightly afraid. Haechan introduced himself in a monotone voice, letting the intern shake his hand then he turned around with a short 'follow me', not giving the other time to do anything else besides tailing his supervisor. Haechan has been babbling about the company for a good five minutes now, walking quickly through the corridors, showing rooms and people. He wasn't doing a very good job because he didn't care. The new guy, weirdly enough, didn't seem disoriented at all and Haechan shrugged internally. "And this is the terrace", the boy finally finished his monologue as they both stepped outside. It was a sunny day but the wind was quite strong, making Haechan close his eyes as his fluffy hair danced around his forehead. "Cute," the guy commented with a soft chuckle. Haechan looked around. Cute? It was kinda cute, he guessed. Too many ugly buildings around though and it wasn't the best-kept terrace. He turned his head to face the intern. "What's cute?" Haechan asked. It was the first word that guy said and Haechan wanted to hear him speak.  The intern was looking at him already instead of the surroundings and Haechan could have sworn that the dude's cheeks were flushed with a pink hue.    "You are", he said shyly, eyes big and twinkling. Haechan could only blink back. Wait. What? Did this guy just call him cute? Cute? "Listen, thanks, but you have to pay me respect. I'm your supervisor", Haechan replied trying hard to keep his voice stable. He wasn't annoyed but he couldn't just giggle, could he? Also, who calls strangers cute? On the workplace? What a weirdo. The guy’s expression shifted at Haechan’s words as if in slow motion. "Oh God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", the intern babbled and stuttered, cheeks going from pink to red, eyes darting around, not knowing where to look. Haechan has never seen someone that transparent with his feelings before and he could tell that he was very honest. Looking so naive, Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes at him just to make him feel even more embarrassed. "I can't fire you personally or anything and I'm not your boss, but I can tell people to fire you", Haechan tried to sound cold even if the situation was rather funny. The look the guy gave to Haechan was of pure terror a for a split second Haechan felt almost sorry. But then the dude’s eyes darted to Haechan’s hair, still flying around his forehead. Haechan puffed annoyed and put one hand on top of his head as to stop the motion. The intern’s expression relaxed. "And what are you going to say? That it's because I called you cute?" he asked. His lips were back into a timid smile. Haechan was baffled. "What is so cute about me?", he sniffled, sure that he caught a cold already and switched the hand from his hair to his ear as the wind got even stronger. The intern took the question seriously. "You have curly purple hair-", he started then stopped as if that was enough to explain his comment, "-and well, your cheeks are full and now they're uhm red and it's... very cute. Also, your eyes are big and round and it's very cute-" 

Haechan groaned incredulously. 

"Oh my God! Stop saying cute", he spoke up to make his voice heard over the loud rumble of the wind, before turning on his heels and walking towards the terrace door. The intern’s cheeks turned pink again as he tried hard to not add whatever he wanted to say.

_______

Mark was told that he was somewhat of a dense guy. He disapproved. He just paid attention to what he wanted and disregarded the rest. So, if you asked him to show off the company to you, what tasks he had to do or where the bathroom was, he wouldn't know where to start. But if you asked him to tell you how many moles Haechan Lee the Supervisor had, he could answer in a second. It was weird and Mark wasn't a romantic person at all. But when he saw the guy walking out the elevator, eyebrows furrowed and dark circles underneath a pair of tired and red eyes, Mark felt a tingle in his stomach that he could only describe as love at first sight. Okay. Maybe not love. Crush at first sight? Attraction? Mark didn't know what that was and it made him so confused that he could only look at the guy's back when walking around the company as if it could give him some answers. Haechan, he said while letting Mark shake his hand. Of course. It fit him perfectly. Mark could see it - the sun - underneath his skin. Their fingers parted ways too quickly after shaking hands and Mark felt so paralyzed by the sudden tingle on his skin that he couldn’t fully pay attention. Was he also warm to the touch? Mark desperately wanted to find out. Was it weird? He was being weird. But God, he was so cute. Cute. Very cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute. 

This is all Mark’s mind was thinking about and when Mark thought about something he would just say it. Just like that. Cute. Don’t say it now though. Cute. I swear, Mark, shut up, for once. So cute. Please, not now. “Cute”, his tongue slipped. 

Goddammit. 

“What’s cute?” Haechan asked. The view. The view is cute. The view, Mark. Mark, say it. Mark, are you listening? The view. “You are”, Mark said instead and Haechan suddenly turned even cuter. Mark gasped, firstly because of the way Haechan’s cheeks turned red and his eyes round and big, then after a good full second that felt like an eternity, because of embarrassment. Oh shit. Fired. He was about to get fired. "God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", Mark felt like running away. He woke up that morning with the intent of finally living the life he worked so hard for and there he was instead, calling strangers cute and making everyone uncomfortable for the sole reason of not being able to shut his mouth for once. Haechan looked embarrassed as he was though and that little detail made Mark hope that it wasn’t all over. Then Haechan shut some cold blinds on his own face and Mark knew that Haechan thought he was safe, that Mark wasn’t able to see his feelings underneath all that. It wasn’t an efficient job and Mark wondered if other people needed just that little act to not see Haechan anymore.

_______

"Good morning". Haechan saw the intern’s feet first before hearing his voice, but he didn't raise his face as suddenly something very important and urgent was being shown on the computer screen and he couldn't physically let his eyes fall on the way the guy wore his suit. 

It was terrible. Long legs and strong thighs on display right in front of his desk? Terrible, and he didn’t need any more distractions in the workplace. After the intern left for the day with a soft “see you on Monday”, both tired having spent most of the time walking around the company and explaining boring paperwork, Haechan had not been able to stop thinking about him the whole weekend. No. No, it wasn’t a crush or anything. Haechan was just, what’s the word? baffled, s h o c k e d, appalled. Some random guy called him cute and Haechan acted that way? Blushing timidly? Was he feeling that bad? Was he that sick? Unacceptable. He was Haechan, for fuck’s sake. And Haechan didn’t just blush. He could not slip anymore. "Yeah, hi Mike", he replied lazily, fingers typing something he didn’t really need to write. "It's Mark", the intern replied in a neutral tone. Haechan knew it was Mark. In fact, he also knew his full name. Mark Lee. Born on August 2nd, 1999. Toronto. Moved to Vancouver. Graduated from university a few years ago. Great grades. Interested in music and sports. Plays the guitar. Good boy. Loves animals. Does charity work regularly. Has a normal amount of friends. Doesn't know how to take selfies. No, he was not being weird. He just read his CV. 

Obviously. 

He was his supervisor. He needed to read that. The other info? He Googled him only to make sure that he wasn't a criminal. And the social media research? It was just to check on his personality. 

Obviously. 

What if he posted about illegal shit? He had to check every photo and tagged person. It was part of his job. He was single, even if Haechan didn't search for that in particular. Haechan loved his work a lot and he didn't care that he worked on that until 3 am, scrolling through his phone, drifting to sleep with Mark's selfies impregnated on his lids. It's just that he took his job seriously.  

Okay. Okay. 

It wasn’t the whole truth. Haechan was curious. Who calls you cute all of a sudden? Haechan had to know more. 

"Okay, Matt. What about you go and bring me a coff-", Haechan started but got interrupted by a hand, delicately placing a cup of steamy coffee in front of him. Haechan stared at it as if not understanding what that was then finally raised his eyes to meet Mark's gentle ones. He was smiling. "I stalked your Instagram. Full of food and coffee", Mark explained honestly with a shrug while walking around the desk and sitting down on his chair. They had to share a desk and Mark was as close as to touch elbows. Haechan hated having people so close to him when he didn't want them; especially at that moment, as Mark rested his head on his hand and just stared. 

Yeah, he stared. His eyes were piercing, looking at Haechan as if that’s what normal people do. Scanning him from head to toe, then looking into his eyes as if able to see something there. 

Haechan ignored him and looked away. "Stalking my social media is problematic, Mike". Mark chuckled lightly. "You did the same". Haechan's head snapped. "And why would I do that?”. Mark shrugged. "Close the tabs if you didn't want me to find out," he smiled staring at Haechan's laptop. 

The younger’s eyes suddenly widened and with a quick hand, he closed it in a second, cheeks hot with shame. He opened his mouth to say something to get himself out of that embarrassing situation but Mark thankfully didn't give him any time. 

"What are we doing today, sir?" he asked instead with a sly smile. "We write codes", Haechan replied quietly. "Fun", was Mark's comment. 

And they did that the whole morning, ignoring each other's knees as they sometimes brushed against each other. And they ignored the way their knuckles touched when both reached for their own cup of coffee. And Haechan ignored Mark's cologne while Mark ignored the way the computer lights made Haechan's skin glow. Mark loved programming, he always did, but that morning he thought that it would be nice to not be a programmer, just for a minute, just to be in a well-lit office and see how different Haechan would look under the sun instead.

_______

Haechan stared down at his sandwich, sitting still wrapped and untouched in his lap. Then he looked up at the blue sky and let the white fluffy clouds calm him. 

It happened close to the lunch break. 

"Spaghetti", Mark said suddenly. Onew had left already and in front of their office, everyone was walking the corridor heading out. Haechan was finally getting into the flow of working when Mark's hoarse voice startled him. "It's your favourite food, isn't it?" Mark asked, explaining himself. "Soup. I don't put things I love on my Instagram", Haechan replied. Mark looked pensive. "This is why there's no girlfriend photo there?" he wondered with a timid smile. Huh? What was that? So this is what was happening? This is the reason for the cute? 

Haechan had no force to being hit on, as much as Mark intrigued him. He had zero force and suddenly all the thoughts that Haechan buried away for a few days, came back like a bulldozer. 

Haechan bit his tongue before talking too much. "Maybe the girlfriend doesn't exist", he mumbled before getting up and grabbing his wallet.  

"Wait, are you going away?" Mark got up as well, surprised. "I thought we were going to eat together. I don't know other people-". "Well, I don't want to. Make some new friends", he replied and just walked away. No, he ran away and the first place he thought about was the terrace. It was the only uncontaminated place in the whole company. Doyoung has never been there before. 

And Haechan loved the clouds. He loved the wind moving them around fast. It was mesmerizing and in moments like those, he was able to not think about anything, until he was not Haechan anymore, until he was a cloud himself, floating in the blue sky. 

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your favourite place", a voice startled him for the second time that day. 

Haechan looked at his right where Mark was standing with a plate of food in his hands. He looked like a scared deer, turning around to leave Haechan alone, probably wondering what he did wrong but too anxious to confront Haechan about it.  

"It's alright. You can stay", Haechan spoke softly and resumed his cloud gazing. 

Mark stopped uncertain, standing still for a little while but then he walked towards Haechan and slowly sat down, resting his back on the wall as Haechan did, raising his eyes to watch the sky.

"Pretty", Mark commented and this time he was actually talking about the view. 

Haechan hummed, then after a moment of silence, he apologized. 

Mark began eating his food. "For what?" he asked with his mouth full. They both knew the reason but Haechan still appreciated Mark’s effort to showcase that he wasn’t mad at him. "For telling you that I don't want to eat together. I was being an ass for no reason", Haechan explained. Mark shook his head. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I came off clingy". Haechan huffed. "Funny. Usually, I'm the clingy one". 

Mark swallowed and Haechan looked at him. "I haven't been myself lately. But I promise I'm not an asshole". Mark smiled back kindly. "I know. I can see that". 

Haechan's expression flattered. 

Mark took another bite. "You look very warm. Your name is very appropriate for your personality. You're just… very cute", he added with a shy smile. 

Haechan continued staring at the other, unable to make a single sound. 

The other had a few other bites as if not noticing the way his words made Haechan feel then he finally raised his gaze. 

"Why are you not eating? Are you sick?" Mark inquired eyeing Haechan's sandwich. The boy finally sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Maybe". "Well, you'll get worse if you don't eat", Mark commented and grabbed the sandwich, unwrapping it and putting it into Haechan's hand with force. "I can't believe you're treating your supervisor like this. Calling him cute and forcing him to eat", Haechan stared at the food in his hand before taking a small bite, mostly to make Mark happy. The other shrugged. "You act like no one calls you cute every minute. Also, I am older than you. I can do that”. Haechan rolled his eyes. "I'm still your senior. You don't want to see me get mad. I can guarantee you that". Mark opened his mouth to say something dangerously similar to “cute” but then smiled instead, shaking his head. Haechan forced himself to keep a straight face. "If you say it again…", he warned the other. Mark cleaned his already clean fingers on a napkin then suddenly grabbed Haechan's cheek with two fingers. The boy's eyes got wide and he almost dropped his food, his mouth open in a surprised o. 

Mark smiled even more at his reaction, gulping his last piece of food while gently pinching Haechan's face as if he were a child. Then he let him go and got up, dusting his pants. "I didn't say anything this time", Mark explained innocently. 

Haechan looked up at him, still shocked. 

"I'll see you in the office. Finish your food", Mark told him and left. Haechan could distinctly hear Mark comment "so fucking cute" while he was descending the stairs.

_______

That night Haechan fell into his usual decadent slumber. He was almost fully unconscious, the twilight sleep making space for a depraved and troubled dream. Fingers twitching and muscles quivering, Haechan’s mind transformed his day yearning in darkness. Images of eyes and lips tormented him again. It has always been the same pattern, yet something new derailed the boy’s focus that night. Little details. The roundness of the eyes, the form of the lips, the touch of the fingers, the voice. That voice sounded different and it whispered something Haechan has never dreamt about before. A single word, soft but sensual, repeated again and again in Haechan’s ear. 

That morning, after a very long time, the boy woke up with a new name on his lips.

_______

Mark sometimes thought that everyone was just stupid besides himself. 

Not because of an unhealthy superiority complex or something, but because he couldn’t understand how everyone could be that blind. 

“Oh, Lara, I love your new blazer”, Haechan would say while walking around the company with Mark following suit. Poor Lara would blush and be genuinely happy about the compliment. But Mark could see that Haechan thought it was atrocious. And Adam’s stuttering speech a well. Oh, and Joseph’s wrinkly newborn. 

However, it wasn’t this fake persona Haechan had that made Mark uneasy. It was the one he would wear when talking about himself. Oh, I slept very well last night. No, I don’t need any help. Yes, everything is fine, what do you mean? Smiles and laughs and sarcastic comments. 

Mark wanted to know. He wanted to get closer and dust off the misty layer on Haechan’s eyes. 

Maybe Mark thought too highly of himself. Maybe it was his ego talking. 

I’m going to be the one to help Haechan, that’s the only thing he could think about. 

And lately, during sleepless nights, Mark would beat himself up about it. 

It’s not your business, Mark. You want this to feel a good person. 

Except, he would then frown and hug his pillow tighter, getting annoyed at himself. 

No, I would want it even it wasn’t me to help Haechan out. I just want to see him happy. 

Yeah. This sounds good. 

So he would drift away to sleep, peaceful, knowing that he was selfless. 

Alas, it took very little to Mark to realize that he wasn’t that selfless as he thought. 

Mark raised his eyes when Haechan’s abrupt manners opened the office door with a kick. “Haechan, you look good today”. The other smirked. “I always look good. What do you mean?” As if the literal sun entered the room. Mark was blinded. “Did something good happen?”, he watched Haechan’s hair bounce at his every step, like a little seedling gently moved by the breeze. Haechan’s smile widened as he sat down, rolling around in his seat, pure energy sprinkling from every pore. “So I guess the answer is yes,” Mark found himself smiling as well, although a bitter taste pasted his tongue on the palate as he spoke. “I just remembered how much serotonin a good fuck gives you,” Haechan opened his computer and started working on his tasks, not paying attention to Mark’s face. 

Oh. 

Mark hated it. Oh, he hated it so much. God, he hated it. 

The boy tried hard to not think about Haechan that day, resulting in him thinking about Haechan all day. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about his body touched by somebody else. 

It was almost lunchtime when Mark finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dating someone?” Haechan raised an eyebrow, eyes still too focused on his computer to give his full attention to Mark. “What? No. Why?”, he mumbled distractedly. Mark blinked for a few seconds. Haechan finally processed and laughed. “You’re kinda sweet Mark. I just got dicked down, that’s all”, he got up and stretched his arms up with a whiny yawn. “Come on,” he lightly hit the other’s shoulder, “I think today’s menu is soup”.

______

Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark. 

It was as if Haechan was going crazy. 

It was just a dream. A single dream. 

When did this happen? How was it possible? 

“Fuck, Haechan, you’re-”, Jaemin gulped, his adam apple going up and down inside his stretched out throat just like Haechan’s body moved on top of him. “Yeah?” the directly concerned boy smiled. “-crazy today”, Jaemin concluded. “Who made you this horny?” Haechan bit his lower lip, hating his mind for not leaving that thought out, even if for a single second. “Call me--”, he ignore the other’s question, cheeks violently turning red. Jaemin groaned at the way Haechan sunk deeper on him in the process. “Call you what?”, he asked breathless, fingers tightening around Haechan’s painfully hard length. “Cute”, the boy finally whispered. And Jaemin said it, again and again until that word replaced Mark’s name from Haechan’s head.

_______

That day’s menu was indeed soup which only added to Haechan’s general euphoria. Mark walked one step behind him, troubled by the double sword his feelings formed inside his heart. His eyes were only on the younger’s face and Mark could only sigh every few seconds. 

Oh, I’m falling in love. I’m falling in love. 

Lost in his melodramatic thoughts, Mark didn’t notice when Haechan suddenly stopped.  “Hey, boys. Haechan,” a dude greeted generally before locking eyes with the younger one.  Haechan rolled his eyes and made a step back from where that guy was. The dude’s smile flattered as if annoyed at that obvious showcase of hatred towards him but kept his fake expression on as he looked at Mark instead. “So, I’m organizing this party downtown at the Garages. Do you want to come?”, he asked.  

Mark furrowed his eyebrows and eyed Haechan to see what the deal was about.  

Haechan huffed. “Mark doesn’t like parties and neither do I, Jungwoo. Thank you”, he replied snarkily while making a step to continue walking. 

Jungwoo smirked. “Says the party animal. You never mentioned it to me while I had you on my-”, but Haechan interrupted him, hitting his chest with the back of his hand. 

Jungwoo chuckled with satisfaction. 

“Oh, so the boy doesn’t have to know?” he asked indicating to Mark, faking innocence.”

Mark felt his jaw muscle flinch and a sudden urge to punch that dude in the face made his fists almost tremble. 

“The boy doesn’t like the way you’re making his friend uncomfortable right now”, he spoke with a cold voice not breaking eye contact. “Whatever happened between you before, now Haechan doesn’t want to see you again and certainly he doesn’t want to come to your party”. 

Haechan opened his mouth to say something but Jungwoo's laugh interrupted him. 

“Oh, but he does want to see me again and come to my party. Don’t you, Haechan?” the dude asked. 

“Of course I don’t, Jungwoo. Get fucked”, Haechan replied quickly, eyes rolling in their sockets, feet turning direction and walking away. 

“I bet I will”, Jungwoo shrugged with a little smile, throwing one finger gun at Mark.  “By Haechan”, he whispered with a wink while leaving him alone in the corridor. 

To Mark’s horror, despite those two’s abrasive conversation, he could definitely see that as a silent promise.

So Mark went there as well. 

Why? He didn’t know. He liked to think that he was concerned about Haechan’s safety. 

That Jungwoo guy had some rancid vibes and Mark hated the idea of the two together. Because he was concerned for his safety. 

Not because he was jealous or anything. 

Haechan could do whatever he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted to, but what if, just what if, Haechan changed his mind and chose Mark over the Jungwoo dude? 

Mark could do that. 

Mark wasn’t self-centred but he still realized that Haechan deserved better and he could provide that. 

If that was Haechan needed to soothe the darkness in his eyes, Mark could do that.

But Haechan wasn’t there and neither was Jungwoo and the thought of that man’s hands on Haechan’s skin made Mark’s guts twirl on themselves. 

He looked around, frantically, breathing the sweat-impregnated air, trying to avoid being hit by people’s sticky shoulders. Until he started to feel sick, not only because of the loud music and blinding lights but also for some obscure reason, grabbing his throat and choking him. 

He had to drown that down.

_______

When Haechan arrived Mark was surrounded by people, eyes closed, face up exposing his neck, laughing and screaming, jumping and moving his body as Haechan has never seen someone do before. 

His legs were nicely on display in a pair of severely ripped black jeans that Haechan had no idea Mark liked to wear. 

The younger boy was so concentrated on the way a plain white T-shirt could look so good on a person that he noticed too late the way Mark directed his eyes towards him. 

He was far away and Haechan couldn’t decipher the other's expression but it didn’t matter as Mark quickly made his way to where the younger boy nervously stood. 

Mark was drunk. A lot. 

But he still somewhat fluidly avoided the crowd as if dancing until getting as close as hovering above Haechan. The boy had never noticed that Mark was taller until he had to raise his face to look up, his back and palms pressed against the wall. He didn’t notice when he walked backwards either. 

“Haechan”, Mark said his name with such worry to make the other’s heart beat like crazy. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”, or that's what Haechan deciphered from his lips since the music was so loud that his ribcage felt about to be ripped apart. “Home. I’ve just arrived”, Haechan yelled and Mark got even closer, giving his ear to the boy’s lips to hear better. 

Haechan couldn’t do anything else besides inhaling his odour. Mark was a little sweaty and his breath smelled of alcohol, but Haechan has never found someone sexier than him at that moment. 

His eyes were dark under his black curls and his lips looked swollen as if someone sucked on them. Haechan felt like prey and unconsciously pressed his body against the wall even harder.

“And where’s Jungwoo?”, Mark’s voice tingled Haechan’s earbuds. “I have no idea. Why would I know?”, Haechan replied, acting as if he didn’t realize why Mark was behaving like that. 

It made Haechan’s palms sweat. 

He thought about that a lot, at the way Mark got defensive of him in front of Jungwoo, at the way Mark’s expression darkened even after Haechan told them that he had no intention to go to the party, at the way Mark has been looking at Haechan a lot, at the way Haechan couldn’t just stop thinking about Mark for a single second either.  

He came to the party because of that. Haechan’s mind was running again and he wanted to stop it. And also because he played with his phone all day, looking at Mark’s number for a long time. 

Mark would have replied but did Haechan really want it? He was such a sweet person and Haechan didn’t dare to contaminate him with his presence. Mark didn’t deserve to be used as Haechan needed. 

So he went to the party, ready to contaminate somebody else instead. Who knew that Mark was there waiting for him? 

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole night”, Mark talked again after staring at Haechan as if trying to understand the younger one’s thoughts. Just like he has been for the past few months, making Haechan feel small and naked. "Yeah, I bet. While letting those people grind on you?" Haechan replied sarcastic trying hard to conceal his shaking voice. 

Mark got closer, bold and cocky, putting his hands on the wall, caging Haechan between his arms, leaning in and whispering into his ear. "Yeah, I was imagining you grinding on me", his confession tickled Haechan’s ear and the boy tried to move his head away on the side, afraid to do something he would regret, but Mark's hand was there and his head had nowhere to go. It wasn't right. 

Haechan was sober while Mark was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. He had to go away, push him back, but his limbs weren't cooperating. Mark's hand though was working just fine and it gently grabbed Haechan's face, turning it into his direction. 

"Haechan, please, let me kiss you", he begged, his breath caressing Haechan’s lips. 

The boy gulped down surprised, shivering with desire, fighting with himself. He put his hands on Mark's chest, with the intent of lightly pushing him away, but he was made of iron. No, Mark, no, please. You’re too precious to me for this. 

"You don't know what you're talking about", Haechan mumbled. 

Mark breathed heavily. His jaw muscles tightened. Then he put his head down as if trying to gain forces. 

"Yeah, sorry, okay okay, I'm leaving", he retrieved his arms and let them fall to his sides like dead flesh. 

Haechan looked at them with some relief, suddenly feeling exposed and cold, even if the club's air was so hot that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just him having breathing difficulties. Haechan had no idea. 

"No, wait", his lips betrayed him. "Just-", Haechan interrupted himself, eyes squeezed together as if already regretting what he was about to say, unsure, holding Mark's wrist with both hands. Then he opened his eyes again. 

Mark was looking at him his heavy lids. His gaze wandered from his face to his exposed neck, then to his collarbones and chest. Mark was undressing him without touching anything and Haechan felt like going crazy. 

"-just a kiss. Okay? It's going to be a short kiss", Haechan continued, unable to believe he was actually saying that. 

But there was no harm in that. A little kiss. Just a harmless little kiss. Like the ones you'd have in college during stupid games. No one thought about those in the mornings.

But when Mark's lips curved in a little smirk and his body got as close as to press on Haechan's one again, the younger boy knew that it wasn't going to be just a kiss. Not for him at least. And not only he would think about it in the morning. He probably would think about it for a long time. And he was right. It was indeed memorable. Slow and careful but not timid. Mark cupped the other’s face, palm pressed on his jaw, fingers as far as touching his neck and ear, the other grabbing his hips, pulling them against his. Haechan’s head felt light and he couldn't fathom how Mark managed to have so much control when he was about to lose it all. And then it became even worse as Mark slipped his tongue inside of Haechan’s mouth and the younger boy had to tighten his grip around Mark’s torso. He whined into Mark's mouth, making the other hum back, picking up the pace, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, letting his hand fall from Haechan's face to his neck, then chest, then to his stomach, grazing the skin separated by Mark's fingers only by his thin button-down. 

Haechan had to stop him. It was going too far. That was a mistake. They still had to work together. There’s a reason why Haechan avoided talking to the coworkers he fucked before. Mark wasn't realizing that but Haechan did. He had to be responsible. 

Stop him, Haechan. Stop him. 

"Mark, wait", he broke off the kiss when Mark's hands reached his jeans button. The boy looked down at him, panting, eyes half-closed: he was begging Haechan to let him continue. 

Haechan grabbed his shirt and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?", he warned him, shutting his brain off. "Okay", Mark replied quickly putting his mouth on Haechan's again as if unable to be away from it for too long. And he put his hands on Haechan's jeans again as well, opening the button, letting the zip fall slowly, tucking his hand underneath Haechan's boxers, feeling his soft and hot skin, wrapping his fingers around him tightly, not letting the struggling Haechan to break off the kiss to moan. And he didn't even last too long. The boy came shuddering all over Mark's fist after a few good strokes and the older finally let him press his face into his chest. 

Shit, he had never lasted this little. What the hell.

Haechan was fucking embarrassed and if Mark wouldn't have been too drunk to remember anyway, he would have just run away to hide in that exact moment. 

"Fuck", Mark cursed under his breath, feeling Haechan’s hot release on his skin, nudging at Haechan's temple with his lips while the other came down from his high.   "Oh, fuck, you're so hot like this, Haechan. And cute. Shit, you're so cute, I'm going crazy", he babbled before letting Haechan's cock go and trying to bring his fingers to his lips. "Oh no", Haechan gulped trying to stop him. "Mark, don't. You touched all sort of things in the club with that hand", and Mark stopped for a second as if processing the information before dropping to his knees and tasting Haechan directly. 

The boy opened his mouth in a silent gasp and he was still so aroused that feeling Mark's tongue made him hard again in a second. 

"Fuck", Haechan swore loudly, pressing his fingers into the wall behind him, letting his head fall back, feeling himself grow harder inside Mark's mouth. 

He didn't expect it. He didn't expect any of this. Innocent and soft Mark Lee sucking him off like no one has done before in the dark corner of a club? Haechan the slut coming in two seconds and getting hard again soon after? Past Haechan would have laughed, yet there he was, moaning Mark's name like a mantra, coming for the second time in minutes like a little virgin. 

It was no dream. It was a reality. 

Mark didn't let him go and Haechan felt like flying as his cum descended inside Mark's throat. And then he looked down right in time to catch a glimpse of Mark's eyes, looking up at him, letting his cock out with a lewd plop. "Mark, where did you learn that?", Haechan asked suddenly exhausted. The boy licked his lips and held onto Haechan to get up, shakily. "Was that good? It was my first time doing it", he mumbled with a smile before resting his head on Haechan's shoulder, the cocktail he had right before adding to his brain fog.

_______

Mark woke up to the sound of a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deep and regular. 

He groaned softly as his lids realized they were getting hit by bright and irritating sunlight. Then he opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the windows first, vision blurry, then on the plant underneath it, then on the young man underneath him. 

Mark's muscles got a spasm and woke up completely as his brain finally made sense of what was going on. Meaning that his face was resting on Haechan's chest. Bare chest. And his own torso, bare torso, was wrapped by the boy's arms. 

Oh fuck, he thought. Oh shit. 

"It's too late in the morning to run away", Haechan mumbled, waking up softly as well. 

Mark froze as he was trying to get up. He was propped up on an elbow when Haechan opened his eyes and Mark felt his breath hitch. 

Haechan was there, pillow adorned with his luscious locks lying all around his head like a halo, chocolate eyes warmed by the sun shining through the windows and his skin, God, he looked like an angel. 

"I'm not going away", Mark lied, surprising himself by how deep and hoarse his voice sounded like. "Fuck, you're so cute right now", he whispered soon after, unable to control himself. 

Haechan's eyes got wider at Mark's words. He expected Mark to freak out, and Mark was freaking out inside a lot, but having Haechan like that, underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful as never before, made Mark feel peaceful at the same time. 

This is all he wanted in life. 

The older managed to keep it together for a few other seconds, trying to look confident, but when Haechan's cheeks reddened with blush, Mark lost it and blushed as well, rolling away, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in with a scream. 

"I can't believe it", his voice came out muffled. "Oh my God", he yelled quietly. 

Haechan started to chuckle embarrassed. "What an idiot". 

"How-", Mark removed the pillow enough for one eye to poke out. "How far-", he stuttered. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, faking nonchalance. 

"Just oral", he whispered while getting up and putting his feet on the ground, turning his back to Mark, unable to look at him in the face either. 

"Oh", the other sounded weirdly disappointed. Haechan pinched the base of his nose. That man was sending such mixed messages. "You did dry hump my ass if that makes things better", Haechan spoke through his teeth, embarrassed out of his mind, grabbing the bottle of water he kept on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. You deserve to get fucked properly", Mark replied quietly as if thinking at loud, making Haechan choke on his water and spit it all around the room. 

Mark sat up quickly and placed a hand on Haechan's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

The choking boy turned around to face him. 

"I thought you'd be all embarrassed about this", he commented while drying his wet lips with the back of his hand. 

"I am!" Mark's eyes got wide and his red ears confirmed it, but it was still not what Haechan expected. 

"I mean", Haechan hesitated, unsure of what words to use, "I thought you'd regret it in the morning. You were really drunk last night and you had no idea what you were doing”. 

Mark's face visibly darkened. 

"Do you regret it?", he asked. 

Haechan went on with his phrase ignoring Mark’s question. "-like I was sober and I was worried that maybe I should have-". 

"Haechan". 

Mark's voice was so deep and serious that Haechan's heart started to beat faster upon hearing him calling his name like that. "Answer me. Do you regret it? Did I- fuck - did I do something wrong?", Mark asked ruffling his hair with one hand. He looked so worried and distressed that Haechan for a second didn't know what to say. 

"No", the younger finally shook his head. "No", he repeated. "I was aware of everything and I made my choice consciously but you-", Haechan hesitated again.  "Me too", Mark spoke up, nodding. "I remember everything until you helped me to get out of the club. After I sucked y-".

"Don't say it", Haechan stopped him with a raised palm. 

Mark chuckled embarrassedly. 

If only Haechan knew how cute he was being in that moment, faking his serious face and steading his voice. Mark would have wanted to see Haechan confess just how weak he was. 

"So you, like, you wanted it? Not because you were just drunk and I happened to be there?", Haechan asked timidly. Haechan couldn't believe he was so shy to talk about sex with someone. It has never happened before. Nothing he did with Mark happened before. 

Mark gulped down. "I wanted it, yeah. I didn't do it because I was drunk. I did it thanks to that. I don't think I would have had the courage otherwise", he explained. "But I'm also sorry. It mustn't be nice to- like--uh, you know, with a drunk person", he stuttered, eyes closing and opening as he thought about the words to use. 

Haechan looked down, shyly. "You were very hot actually", he whispered back, scratching the back of his head. 

"Haechan," Mark finally found his voice after a moment of shocked silence. "I swear to God, I would take you-", but interrupted himself abruptly. 

Haechan looked at him flustered. 

Mark cleared his voice. 

Then he shook his head. 

"No", he chuckled at himself. "Nothing, never mind", he added suddenly getting up, the covers sliding down his naked body. 

Haechan looked at it. He had looked at it the whole night. That night he kissed every inch of that skin and listened to Mark's soft moans. And Haechan realized that it wasn't a hookup. At all. Not for him. But Mark didn't remember that part and Haechan didn't want to tell him. If Haechan had to think about it for the next month, so be it. It was all on him. He let himself go too far and he wasn't talking about the physical aspect. It was all his fault if his heart was aching to see Mark get dressed instead of lying beside him, cuddling, or better, doing what Mark didn't dare to tell him.

_______

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?".

Forgetting. 

Mark wanted to forget but he couldn't do it. Not the day after and not on Monday morning, seeing Haechan's pretty lips so close to him and not being able to kiss them. 

Mark lied when Haechan asked him what he remembered. 

Well, not entirely, because he did forget some parts. 

But he was definitely lucid when Haechan went down on him, slowly, after kissing his lips, then his neck, sucking on his skin, then his chest and stomach as Mark wrapped Haechan's hair around his fingers. The boy asked multiple times if Mark was okay with that until Mark had to basically beg to just suck him off already. And God, he was so cute doing it. He would never forget how that felt. Divine. His head was so light as if zero oxygen got to it, every drop of blood concentrated inside of Haechan's warm and wet mouth instead. 

And he was staring at that mouth now, as Haechan explained the work to do for the day. Mark wasn't even that horny. No. He just wanted to hold him again and softly press his lips on Haechan's plump ones. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this". 

Haechan was sober when he said that. He meant it. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. Right? Should he ask? Haechan, did you forget? Do you want to forget? Because I don't. 

And I can't. 

"Mark", Haechan snapped his fingers in front of him making the boy jolt. "Focus", he ordered. "What are you thinking about?".

You. I'm thinking about you. You. You. I've been thinking about you for days, Haechan. 

"Lunch", Mark shrugged. Haechan rolled his eyes. "What an idiot".

_______

That afternoon Haechan was in a relatively good mood. 

He should have known that the most peaceful days could bring the most terrible storms though. 

So he jolted at the sound of a voice he almost forgot how it sounded like. 

"Haechan, I thought you died or something". 

The boy in question looked up from his computer to see a pair of feline eyes. 

They were bright and amused. Then he saw the lips. Soft and pink stretched in a sweet smile. 

Doyoung was still like a house with all the lights on, but now it wasn’t empty anymore. Now everyone was home. This house was full of people, all happy and content. 

Haechan was so glad. He truly was. This is what he has always wanted to see since first locking eyes with that man. But he also felt suddenly miserable. Miserable and confused. 

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat like that. Not anymore. 

"I did die and I just got back from hell", he replied, trying to sound as snarky as possible. It wasn't entirely a lie. 

"What about you? You also went missing". Doyoung blushed subtly at the innuendo and Haechan felt the urge to punch the table. Or himself. "I've been busy", Doyoung replied softly. "So you went to paradise instead, I see", Haechan commented with a smile hoping that no one noticed how fake it was.

_______

"A man can't have his alone time in peace. What do you want?", Haechan rolled his eyes while Mark sat down beside him, resting his back on the rooftop wall, looking in front of him at the blue sky. 

It was a sunny day with a slight breeze, enough for Haechan's fringe to wave gently. 

Mark loved it when the wind ruffled Haechan's hair but he couldn't bring himself to look at the younger boy. Not at that moment. 

"I didn't know", Mark whispered. "What?", Haechan's voice came out irritated but he didn't care. 

"That you were in love", Mark added. 

Haechan choked on his breath. 

"I'm not", he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes as if sunbathing. Conversation over, it meant. An angry bronzing session. 

Mark finally looked at him then, feeling safe as he wasn't seen back. He watched the way Haechan’s skin glowed under the warm rays. Mark thought about how it would feel under his fingertips but he wasn’t sure. He touched it before but now he couldn’t remember it. Mark wanted to raise one hand and touch his cheek again, this time fully concentrating on the feeling. He wanted to let it slide down the boy’s jawline, feeling the sharp bone, then on his neck where the angry pulsating artery pumped blood at a crazy speed. Then he wanted to hear Haechan’s soft breath as his hand unbuttoned his shirt, this time feeling his heartbeat. Mark wanted it to be fast and only for him. For Mark. 

It all made sense now. But why does it have to be like that? What should Mark do? What do people do in this scenario? 

Was he thinking about this Doyoung guy? Has Haechan been thinking about other men? The whole time? While Mark was thinking about him? 

Was he imagining kissing that man's lips while Mark's mind was full of Haechan and Haechan only? 

Of course, he would. 

What was Mark thinking? Isn’t this what he accepted? Isn’t this what he decided to adventure in? Why was Mark suddenly so hurt about Haechan behaving as he anticipated him to do? 

We forget about this in the morning and Mark was certain now that Haechan actually did forget. 

"Does he know?", Mark asked after a while. Haechan snorted. "Of course he doesn't". "He doesn't know what?".

The other boy sighed at the trap. 

"Just leave me alone", he ordered. And Mark actually got up and left. 

Haechan's cheeks got wet right when it started to rain.

_______

"Mark, if you have something to say, just say it". 

It's been a few days of Mark not talking but still looking at Haechan as if about to burst in a monologue anytime soon. 

Haechan had been brusque with him before, but it never came to Mark not talking to him. 

The younger boy wasn’t stupid. It was obvious what was going on with Mark but Haechan didn’t have the force to deal with it sooner. 

"I don't have anything to say", Mark replied. "Do you have anything to say?".

Haechan rested his back on the chair and looked at Mark, irritated. 

"Okay, we need to sort this thing out. We can't work like this". "Like this how? We're working just fine", Mark didn't raise his eyes from the computer. "Mark, you've been writing and deleting the same line for a while now", Haechan indicated the screen with his chin. "Well, maybe something is going on with me but it doesn't have anything to do with you, so we don't need to talk about anything", Mark replied finally starting a new line. 

So Mark was able to lie as well, huh?

"Mark", Haechan lowered his voice. "Do you perhaps have feelings for me?", he whispered. 

"What?!" Mark yelled. 

Onew jolted on his seat. 

"Keep your voice down, you dumbass", Haechan put one hand on his thigh. Mark looked down at it then at Haechan's face. 

Haechan retrieved his hand back. 

Mark breathed heavily before talking. 

"It's just--”, he rested his back on the chair as well, “I've never been with someone like that before and I'm so confused right now, like, I don't know if I have feelings for you or just--like, I need closure?", he questioned as if talking to himself. 

Haechan was surprised that Mark told him all that. 

"You mean that you're a virgin?", the younger asked incredulously. "Uhm, I can hear you", Onew said. "Then get your ass up and take a stroll, Owen", Haechan spoke up. 

Mark flinched at his sudden and loud voice. 

Their colleague shook his head as if not believing he was dealing with some weirdos and got out of the office mumbling something about gen z people. 

"I am not a virgin. I meant hookups", Mark explained after a little pause while his cheeks acted like a virgin's. "You said you've never sucked someone before", Haechan raised one eyebrow. "It's alright if you're a virgin, Mark. You just have to tell me and-”, he interrupted himself as if realizing what they actually did, “-fuck, you had to tell me before as well. God, I acted recklessly, I should hav-".

"I am not a virgin! Stop saying that. I've never sucked before because I've been eating pussy, okay?", Mark raised his voice.

Haechan blinked at him. "So you're confused about your sexuality?" 

Mark rolled his eyes defeated. "I know what I like! I'm not confused. Just hear me out!" "You said you were confused just a minute ago", Haechan said. "But not about my sexuality. Because of the hookup!"  "Why are you yelling?", Haechan yelled.  "I'm not yelling!", Mark yelled back.  "You're arguing with me right now". "Because you're not listening! I don't know how I'm feeling about you because I've never slept around before. I-- just--don't like it", Mark stuttered.  "Then why did you sleep with me?", Haechan was exasperated.  Mark whined. "Because I liked you already”.  "So you do like me. You have feelings for me", Haechan raised his hands as if talking with a fool. 

The other shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable. 

"Don't all people like their hookup partners though? Like, would you sleep with someone if they were ugly as fuck? I don't think so. You still need to be attracted to them a little". 

Haechan sighed while massaging his temples. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Didn't you have crushes before? Don't you know what it feels like to be in love?".

Mark groaned tiredly. "I did. And I know. But this is different", he spoke with a softer tone. 

Haechan sighed. "So what? Am I supposed to help you figure that out? If you like me or not?". 

Mark straightened his tie and focused on his computer again as if the conversation was over. 

"Listen, you wanted to hear me talk, so I did". 

The younger boy stared at the other’s fingers as they started to type something, probably useless. 

"Do you even want to like me? Like what's your expectation?". 

Mark’s fingers stopped and he remained silent for a little while. "Well, you like somebody else, so it wouldn't be nice if I had feelings for you, would it?". 

Haechan prolonged the silence a bit. "I'm getting out of it".

Mark turned his head to him. 

That was a lie, Mark could see it. A blatant lie. 

"Do you want me to like you?", he asked. His voice was soft and low. 

Haechan thought about it for a second. He didn’t know what to say. 

Mark sighed, unable to wait like that, and closed his eyes, reclining back on his seat again. 

"I like you, Haechan. Okay? I like you, fuck. I don't care if you like somebody else". 

Haechan’s heart started to beat even faster than before. 

“Was this the problem, then? You were jealous?”, Haechan’s voice came out quieter than he intended. 

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped together. 

He shrugged. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I just needed to say it. I’m not asking for anything from you”, Mark directed his gaze towards Haechan. 

He looked so serious that it made Haechan’s cheeks get pink again. 

Mark’s eyes trembled imperceptibly at that reaction but he didn’t dare to say anything about it. 

He cleared his voice as Haechan couldn’t bring himself to add anything either and got back to work.

_______

It was very late at night. 

Haechan had no idea what time it was but it was not a time normal people would be awake at. 

He fidgeted under the covers, restless and irritated. He felt hot and his mind wouldn’t let him sleep. 

His hands found his phone after a while, ready to click on Jaemin’s name. But then his thumb slid down and it stopped over Mark instead. 

Haechan stared at the bright screen until he felt his eyes tear up from lack of blinking then just pressed it with a huff. 

Bad person Haechan. You’re a bad person. You’re such a bad person. A mistake. You did a mistake a now you were about to make another one.

“Yes”, Mark’s rough voice interrupted Haechan’s train of thoughts. 

The younger boy opened his mouth to breathe better and he let that monosyllable caress his ears even after the sound already died. 

“Hey”, Haechan whispered, closing his eyes, helping his other senses to get sharper. 

Mark groaned softly and shifted in his bed, probably turning in a more comfortable position. “Haechan”, he said in the same sleepy and deep voice and Haechan had to make an effort to not whimper into the phone. 

Why was Haechan so affected by this boy but at the same time so afraid of him? He shouldn’t have let Mark get so involved. Haechan should have put a wall between them the first time his lips said that first “cute”, then another one when he blatantly saw the way Mark’s eyes couldn’t leave him, then another one that night in the club, and another one when Mark asked him if Haechan wanted to be liked. And now as well. Just end the call. 

But he couldn’t. 

His walls were not strong enough for Mark and Haechan was a bad person. 

He liked it. He liked a lot. Haechan wanted more and more even if he could give back only darkness. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, Haechan said after waiting a few seconds to recollect himself. 

Mark hummed as if telling him that it was alright. “Is everything okay?” he asked and Haechan noticed the way Mark was slowly waking up by the growing concern in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, everything is good. I just…”, Haechan hesitated. 

Why did he even call Mark in the first place? Did he need company? Rude. Did he miss him? Gross. He was a bad person, using people when he needed, disregarding their feelings? Yeah. 

“I wanted to speak to someone”, he decided to be honest. 

Mark’s breath got louder for a second as if he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you thought of me, then. Unless you called other people first and no one replied”. 

Haechan smiled, feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush, then stopped, starting to hate himself. “No. You’re the only one I called”, he confessed. 

What was he doing? Bad. Bad Haechan. Bad. 

Mark went silent and Haechan listened to his breath for a while.

“You confuse me so much, Haechan”, Mark’s voice was a whisper and Haechan swallowed nothing, feeling his throat suddenly dry. 

Yeah. It was not fair. Not when Mark told him how he was feeling and Haechan couldn’t do the same. 

“But I’m not complaining”, Mark added before Haechan could apologize and end the call, finally getting to his senses. “I don’t care, Haechan. I like you so much. You can do whatever you want to me”. 

Haechan bit his lower lip. God, he hated himself. 

“Mark-”. “Would you do something for me?”, the boy interrupted him. “Mm? What?”. “Would you-”, Mark stopped, breath suddenly quicker, “-would you-uhm-- shit”, he repeated softly before chuckling, slightly embarrassed. 

Haechan’s skin got goosebumps, wondering if he understood what Mark wanted. His heartbeat started to pump blood at a crazy speed at it all went in a single place. 

So he did what Mark asked, even if he would end up being wrong, only because he wanted it too. He slid a hand under his t-shirt, slowly, until reaching his nipples, and whined into the phone. 

Mark went completely silent for a second. 

Haechan whined again a little louder. 

“Fuck, Haechan”, Mark’s voice trembled. "Are you-- are you touching yourself?”.

Haechan hummed. “My nipples”, he simply replied as he pinched them, playing with himself, feeling his boxers get tighter at every stroke. “Oh fuck”, Mark’s rough voice made Haechan squeeze his eyes together and open his mouth in a silent moan. 

They were both panting. Haechan couldn’t tell if Mark was just lying there and imagining or if he started to shyly let his hand slide south as well. 

“How does it feel?”, Mark inquired with a shaken voice and Haechan realized he still had too much control to be rubbing one out as well. “It feels so good, Mark”, the younger one replied, adding soft swears as his fingers got under the fabric of his boxers, letting the elastic hit his abdomen once, loudly, making sure Mark heard it as well. “Hmm -a-ah”, he wrapped his cock with his hand, pumping it slowly a few times, pressing his thumb on the slit. 

He didn’t need to exaggerate any sound. Knowing that Mark was listening could make Haechan go over the edge alone. 

“Haechan, you make me go so fucking crazy”, Mark’s shaking voice made Haechan bite his lower lip. “You too, Mark”, he confessed in the cloud of sensations. 

Then listened to the way the other boy’s bed sheets irrefutably shifted and the bed creaked and his breath hitched as he started to pleasure himself to the sound of Haechan’s whimpers and the image he had of him.  

They didn’t talk anymore. There was no need to and they weren’t able to either. Not having Mark near him, made Haechan last longer but it was still too quickly than usual so he stopped right before cumming, edging himself until the other whined into his pillow, cursing and calling Haechan’s name.

_______

Haechan avoided Mark the whole day. He told Mark that he had some other work and barely came into the office. 

The older boy would sigh every five minutes, mind racing, making the poor Onew groan. 

“He’s feeling awkward. You guys fucked, it’s normal”. 

Mark turned his head towards him as if awoken from a dream, cheeks blushing violently as soon as he made sense of the other’s words. 

“Also, you’re in love with him. I would avoid someone in love with me as well if I only wanted to fuck them,” Onew added as if talking about the weather. Mark was unable to speak. “He’s afraid to hurt you now”. 

“I told him it was alright, though”, Mark finally whispered, trying hard to suppress the hysterical little chuckle he would get when nervous or talking about embarrassing stuff. 

Onew got up with his empty coffee mug in his hand. 

“Show it. Do something that can make him realize that it’s okay for you to be in this type of relationship”, he added before walking out whistling with not one single worry in the world. 

Mark would have wanted to whistle as well but couldn’t. 

That advice was breaking his heart. 

It was true. Mark said that he was okay, but he was lying. 

Of course, he was not alright. 

He wanted to, oh he wanted so bad to be alright but it was so late. It was already late from the beginning. Mark didn’t want that kind of relationship. He wanted more. 

But Onew was also right. Mark had to do something. If being able to have Haechan like that meant breaking his own heart, Mark was ready to do it. 

And when that night he went to Jungwoo’s monthly party again, he forced his beating heart to stop upon seeing Haechan’s back. 

The young men’s slender figure was curved in a laugh, the pretty sound almost audible to Mark’s far away ears. Then Haechan sipped from the drink in front of him, still amused by the handsome bartender’s joke, and spun around in his chair right in time to see Mark being hit on by a woman. 

Haechan’s lips stopped on the edge of the glass, eyes unable to blink, staring emotionless at the way Mark’s lips curved in a timid smile while his hands weren’t timid at all, firmly grabbing that girl’s hips as she wiggled her ass against Mark’s crotch. 

Haechan turned around, placing the drink on the counter with a slightly shaking hand. 

“Everything alright?”, the bartender asked. 

Haechan didn’t reply and threw his head back, finished his cocktail in one gulp.

_______

It was quite early when the boy left the party. Haechan felt like suffocating in the middle of all those people breathing heavily, clouding his mind. 

Waiting for his taxi outside, ignoring the stares of horny people smoking and grinding against each other by the entrance of the Garages, he got reasonable startled when two hands suddenly wrapped his torso. 

But those were some delicate fingers and Haechan could recognize that cologne in a thousand others. 

Mark rested his face on Haechan’s shoulder and no one said anything for a little while, listening to the deep bass coming out of the club, the yelling and the traffic on the main road just a few blocks away. 

“Sorry if I startled you”, Mark mumbled. 

Haechan bit his lower lip and turned around, expecting a drunk and horny Mark yet again. But the boy’s eyes were wide and awake, his usual staring-as-if-reading-your-soul eyes met Haechan’s ones. 

The younger looked at them for a second then he eyed the bright red hickeys on the other’s neck as well as the slightly unbuttoned shirt. 

“I see you’ve had some fun tonight”, Haechan commented unable to hide his bitter tone. Not that Mark wouldn’t have been able to see through his fake face anyway. 

Mark licked his lips and tugged Haechan’s hips towards him. 

"Is this alright?", his voice was low and sultry, ignoring Haechan’s little jab, caressing his lower back instead. 

Haechan started to pant softly, unsuccessfully trying to take a step back then he gulped down staring at the other’s lips getting each second closer. 

"We can pretend it didn't happen", Mark went on, "just like we've always done, isn’t that right?", and Haechan could have sworn that Mark was a little pissed off. “Fucking at night then pretending we don’t know each other during the day, huh? Isn’t this what you want? I can do that”. 

Mark's fingers reached the hem of Haechan's t-shirt by now, hiking it up slowly, dragging his fingertips on his skin. It was warm, just like Mark had always imagined. A loud cheer mixed with glass shattering made Haechan flinch but Mark shushed him, every second closer until they were breathing each other's air. 

"I really want to take you right now, just like this". 

Mark's whisper made both of their hearts beat like crazy.  The first, not believing he was talking like that, the second, not believing that Mark was telling him that. 

And when Haechan finally closed his eyes, ready to melt into the kiss, Mark's lips ghosted his cheek and neck instead, fingers still drawing little circles on the younger's chest, resting his palm on the beating heart. Then he pulled away. 

“It’s a shame that you’re pushing me away like this”, Mark straightened his back and walked away.

_______

Mark was a weird guy. 

And when Haechan bumped into him inside the local supermarket near his apartment, a large sweatshirt on his frame, boyfriend jeans, ruffled hair, a little stubble, concerned expression behind his golden round glasses, the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips mindlessly, deciding what brand of cereal he wanted, Haechan felt the urge to go there and yell at him that he's in love. 

Haechan never liked the "what are we" question. 

Everyone around him asked that. What are we? Friends. Friends with benefits. Nothing, we're just fucking. Haechan has never adventured there. But now, looking at Mark's profile, his hand finally picking up the cereal pack, Haechan wanted to ask him that question. 

What are we, Mark? 

Because I want us to be something. 

I want to claim you in ways that give other people no place to do the same. 

Not a friend, not a colleague, not a friend with benefits. 

An etiquette that only Haechan could claim. 

Even if Haechan didn’t deserve that. 

Mine. My boyfriend. Mine. Mine. All mine. 

Was that wrong? Probably. 

But Haechan felt no remorse. 

Was that love? Haechan was unsure but he wanted to find out. 

So he walked over. Was Mark there because he hoped to see Haechan? "Oh, Haechan", Mark seemed genuinely surprised when the younger called his name. "What are you doing here?", the boy asked. 

Mark looked around briefly as if suddenly not knowing where he was. "The meat here is higher quality than the supermarket near my apartment", he explained and Haechan could see the way Mark's expression screamed honesty. 

He wasn’t there because of Haechan. Mark might have had a crush on the other but he was slipping away now. 

Come back, Mark. Come back to me. Call me cute again. Touch my skin. Don’t do this. Don’t play with me like this. 

"Haechan", Mark's voice wavered as the boy got suddenly closer. "We're in public". 

Haechan didn’t look away. “You didn’t care about the public last night. You let that slut fuck you in front of everyone then you dared to flirt with me and leave me on the edge like that?”, he confronted him. 

Mark’s little stunt made the younger so mad the day before that he felt like bursting in his pants during the drive home. Cheeks flushed and trembling hand, he didn’t even bother to walk to the bedroom. He closed his eyes and threw his head back to rest against the entrance door as soon as he stepped into his empty apartment. He came and came, again and again, until he felt too sensitive to touch himself anymore. God, he was so mad. 

“Haechan, are you jealous?”, Mark’s eyes relaxed, the cereal pack still between them, the gaze of some elderly ladies not leaving their backs. 

Haechan’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yeah. I am. I am jealous. I am fucking jealous. Okay? I hate it. I hate that you sleep with other people. You’re mine and mine only”, Haechan spat out quickly before he could regret saying it. 

He was panting and he didn’t even have to look at himself to know that he was all red. 

Mark’s breath hitched in a startled laugh. 

“And I hate that you have all of this control over me. I was done, okay? I was done with feelings and here you are, doing all of this bullshit to me. Your little game worked. Are you happy?”. 

Getting out of the apartment that late morning, Mark didn’t anticipate getting a confession from Haechan in the cereal aisle while said person looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, doe eyes and a trembling lower lip. 

God, he was so cute, Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him. 

“You saw my game and played by my rules?”, Mark asked impressed. 

“You didn’t even give me time to play at all! I got defeated before starting”, the other admitted frustrated. 

Mark chuckled. “Why are you getting mad at me, Haechan? You ignored me in the first place, sleeping with other people.” 

The boy huffed exasperated and walked away, bumping Mark in the shoulder, making the other pirouette and grab him by the forearm. 

“I was joking. Come on”, he cooed. “This is what I’ve always wanted”. 

Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek, annoyed. “What? Me making a fool out of myself?”

“Showing yourself to me”, Mark replied kindly. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, still using his faking-nonchalance-to-not-show-his-feelings technique, but Mark was already immune to that. In fact, he has been immune to that from the start. 

Haechan loved it. 

Haechan loved it so much that he got scared. It was too good to be true.

________

It was pouring heavily when they got out of the supermarket. Haechan had his apartment windows open and they could smell the scent of rain, clean and refreshing. 

It was cold but Mark's body heated the boy in a second, groceries fallen on the floor, wrapping his arms around the other’s frame. 

They did not kiss and Haechan was quite surprised but he didn't say anything, hiding his face the crook of Mark's neck instead, inhaling all of his favourite scents at the same time. 

"I called you upstairs for a different reason," Haechan mumbled, surprised at the sudden softness, the sound of his voice muffled by the other's slightly damp sweatshirt. 

"I know," Mark whispered against his temple. 

He placed a delicate kiss there, then another one slightly below, then another one, drawing a line until reaching the jaw. Haechan raised his face and Mark kissed the corner of his lips, then the other cheek, and jaw again, and the other temple. 

Haechan closed his eyes with a little smile as if giving up. 

Mark, what are you doing?".

"I want you to think", the other replied, lips still busy. Haechan scoffed. "I want to stop thinking". "I want you to think about me". 

His lips reached Haechan's forehead and stayed there for a little. 

The only sound was the rain and Haechan's quick heart. 

"I already think about you a lot", Haechan confessed, face close to Mark's collarbones. 

"And why do you want to stop?" the other murmured. 

His voice was so relaxing and calming that Haechan for a second forgot why was he trying to not think about Mark in the first place. Why was he pushing him away? Why has he been pushing him away all of that time?

Then he remembered when Mark's hands slid down Haechan's back. 

"Because I'm a bad person". Mark sighed as if he expected that but still wanted to hear the other say it. "You're not a good judge". Haechan tsk-ed. "Well, thanks, I guess." "I am the one who has to decide if you're a bad person or not, and I say that you're not." "You're blinded by love”. 

Mark hugged Haechan even tighter. 

"Yeah, I am, so Haechan, please, let me love you", his tone darkened suddenly. "Stop pushing me away. I can handle anything". 

"I'm going to fuck up", Haechan shook his head. 

"You won't and if you do, I still want to take my chances. What if I fuck up before you do?" 

Haechan laughed, resting his chin on Mark's chest, rising his face to look at the boy in the eyes. "Mark, you're a saint".

The saint’s eyes were those of a sinner though when he pressed his thumb on Haechan’s plump, lower lip. 

"Have you ever made love to someone before?", he asked with a deep voice. 

Haechan's eyes widened with amusement. "Are you joking? I’m a hoe.” 

Mark hummed. "No. I said, love. Have you? Because I haven't either and I desperately want to make love to you right now". 

And Mark was right. 

Haechan had never made love with someone before and he realized it as soon as the other's hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips softly, pushing him back towards the bed, making him sit on it, letting Haechan watch as Mark elegantly took away his sweatshirt first then the shirt underneath it. 

Haechan blinked, emotions he has never felt before invading his whole body as Mark pushed him down with a gentle touch, kissing his stomach and going up, taking Haechan's top with him, letting the cold air caress his skin making it all shiver. It would have shivered anyways, goosebumps forming at every feathery touch of Mark's lips. They took away all of the remaining clothes, touching each other slowly, curiously, exploring everything, with fingertips and lips and tongues. Attentive, remembering which stroke made the other whine louder, what kind of whisper pleased the ears more, what pet name made the other blush. 

It was still raining hard, but they weren't cold, tightly wrapped in each other arms, the heavy covers to hide their secret whispers from the world. They were hidden in giggles and heavy breaths, "here?", "yeah", "like this?", "hmm", and Haechan felt so present. He was there, at that moment and he was seen. Mark was looking at him, really looking and Haechan didn't have to do anything to make it happen. There was no reason to put on an act. He just had to be himself. Vulnerable and- "cute," Mark whispered, chests rising, short breaths, his thumb caressing Haechan's red cheeks. 

"Say it again", Haechan smiled. 

Mark imitated him, his lips murmuring the word until they didn't have to, the feeling of it lingering in the air by itself.

#here she is #mark smut #haechan smut #mark angst #haechan angst #markhyuk smut #markhyuk angst #nct smut #nct angst #markhyuk fluff #nct fluff #jaemin smut #jungwoo #jaemin

[irrelevantwriter]

Acts of Service

Pairing: Negan x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, Daddy kink, mentions of bodily fluids, oral sex (female and male receiving), titty fucking (is there a nicer term?), vaginal fingering, Negan and his big dick energy

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Part 2. We continue on our quest through all that foreplay has to offer with some enthusiastic acts of service.

A/N: Soooooooo, I felt like adding another part to The Art of Foreplay. If you haven’t read it, you definitely don’t have to but also you should could. I’m really into the idea of exploring foreplay with Negan and a wife who’s insistent on not sleeping with him. It’s kinda refreshing to not write the actual act of sex and I’m having a lot of fun thinking of all the ways I can expand on this. I hope you guys are down with it and like it. If so, maybe I’ll add more parts in the future. And I definitely have to give a shout out and thank you to @negans-lucille-tblr​ bc without her foreplay challenge, this idea would not exist so thanks girl! Feedback is that good shit. Enjoy and share with your friends!

A/N dos: Also, latex/patent lingerie is a thing. I got some interesting results when I googled it. Lots of latex suits lol. 

*Check out part one: The Art of Foreplay 

*Check out part three: Pillow Talk

*Foreplay series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

“You rang?”

You announced yourself as you entered Negan’s quarters without knocking. He was expecting you, though his summons had come nearly an hour earlier. You knew he’d be displeased with your tardiness, but you had good reason…at least you thought you did.

“Fucking finally…”

Your eyes found him seated on his couch, his body the picture of relaxation. He was holding a glass tumbler filled with an amber liquid, his long arms stretched along the back of the couch. His leather jacket was discarded near him, the stretch of his white t-shirt showcasing the broadness of his chest and shoulders. His hair was slicked back, his tongue licking his lips as he eyed you. There was a mix of disapproval and lust reflecting in the orbs, the intensity of it making you shiver.

He looked dangerous. He looked like all the things your parents had warned you about. He was a fire burning out of control. A tornado destroying everything in its wake. A tsunami flattening the earth. He was a natural disaster. A whirlwind of disorder and menace.

And you were jumping headfirst into the chaos.

“What the fuck took you so long?” He asked with an obvious annoyed tone. His eyes traced your form as you stepped closer, the appreciation of your feminine form still present despite his irritation. The black dress your wore accentuated your curves, inviting him to visually consume you. He didn’t disappoint.

“I was getting ready for you, my dear husband.” You responded with a coquettish smile, coming to a halt between his widely spread thighs. You fluttered your made-up eyes down at him, licked at your painted lips as his expression started to soften. A grin began to split his lips, the whites of his teeth a stark contrast to the golden shade of his skin.

Negan chuckled, bringing the glass still clasped in his hand to his lips. You watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. His gaze never wavered from you, watching you watching him. It made you feel exposed.

“Finally gonna let me fuck that pussy out of commission?” He taunted, the roughness of his voice settling like hot lava between your thighs.

“Not yet.” You replied with a shake of your head, your feet unconsciously shifting you closer to his body.

He caught the movement, a smirk breaking out onto his face. He leant forward slightly as his free hand glided up your exposed leg and thigh, stopping at the hem of your dress. His fingers gripped the flesh, edging upwards under the fabric. His touch felt like an electric shock, his hand instantly searing your skin. You didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to deny him. The temptation of giving yourself completely to such a man no longer felt reckless. Instead, it felt instinctual; as if your need for him was now embedded into your DNA.

“But,” You started, voice regaining its composure as he continued to trail his fingers under your dress. “I do have a surprise for you.”

His eyes danced with amusement, his devilish tongue sliding along his lips. “I do love surprises.”

You turned your back to him, forcing his hand to separate from your thigh. You glanced at him from over your shoulder, gesturing to the long silver zipper that held the fabric of your dress together.

“Help me out?”

“Fucking gladly, doll.” He said with all the boyish glee of a kid on Christmas morning. He shifted forward and began to release the metal teeth, revealing your back and the undergarments you wore.

Once he was done, you turned back around to face him, the dress now dangling precariously off your body. You pulled your arms out of the sleeves, maintaining eye contact with Negan as you did. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as the material caught on your hips before you shimmied and let the fabric fall in a heap at your feet. You kicked it away, your arms slightly outstretched to keep your balance on the heels you wore.

“Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw…” Negan rasped, his body once again sunken into the cushions of the couch. The position allowed him to take you in all at once, to admire his gift in all its glory.

You forced yourself to stay still as his eyes burned over every inch of your body, the rapid breaths of his chest giving him away. You were half-naked, your breasts encased by a black latex bralette while your lower half was barely concealed by a matching pair of latex panties. The set was one you’d found hidden among the scraps of lace and silk Negan had brought back for the wives. The glint of the shiny fabric had immediately caught your eye and you’d snatched it before anyone could notice. The outfit obviously belonged amongst a selection of whips and chains, the insinuation clear. You weren’t necessarily looking to dominate your husband, but you were interested in being different…special. You wanted to stand out from the others. You wanted to capture Negan’s attention and hold it. And so far you’d been successful.

“What do you think?” You purred, aware that the question wasn’t needed. The shift in Negan’s hips was the answer.

He licked his lips again, rubbing at the shadowing of hair that covered his jaw. The strands were peppered with hints of grey, matching the hair at his temples. It was one of your favorite features. He wore the proof of age well, the fines lines and grey hairs a testament to the life he’d lived. And with that came experience. Experience that he loved to showcase for you.

“My dick is hard enough to crack skulls.”

His words made your body tingle, your heartbeat now centered within your throbbing pussy. Negan had that ability. He could get you to the very edge with just his words. Any filthy thing that crossed his mind, he said it. It was refreshing and overwhelmingly effective.

“I thought you might like it.” You said as you let your hands cradle your heaving breasts. They were pushed high up on your chest by the restricting latex, creating the best cleavage you’d ever had. Predictably, Negan’s hungry gaze followed.

“The shit looks painted on your fucking body. How the fuck you get that shit on?” He asked in awe, his hand reaching out to run along the smooth fabric that shielded your pussy.

You jerked at the feeling of his fingers barely grazing your lips. Even though the sensation was muted by the material between you, it still carried the weight of desire.

“Took forever. Hence my late arrival.” You whispered as he continued to dance his fingers along your body, the calloused digits forcing goosebumps to rise on your flesh. You gripped his shoulders as he straightened, his glass now abandoned on the couch cushion next to him. His mouth hovered over your stomach, his hot breaths panting in an erratic pattern. You could feel the ghosting of his lips as they painted your skin with kisses, his hands freely roaming your ass.

“You are one good fucking girl, aren’t you baby?” He questioned against your stomach, eyes centered up and on you.

Your thighs twitched and clasped together, effectively cutting off his wandering touch. Your nipples pebbled against the bralette, your back arching imperceptibly towards the air. Your walls flooded at his praise, overcome with his approval of you. It was enough to make you pull away and shove gently at his chest.

“There’s more…” You said with a mischievous smile, your hand forcing him to lean back against the sofa. He went willingly, too intrigued by your words to fight you for control. You sank to your knees and you swore his smile grew ten times wider. His thighs parted to make room for you as you took every opportunity to rub your body against him.

“Fucking hell...You are a fucking vision on your knees for me.” He admired, a wayward hand rubbing at his now very hard cock through his pants.

You said nothing in response, but you felt it. Watching him palm himself made a whimper leave your lips, your chest inching closer to his crotch to seek out any form of friction you could get. He noticed your actions and laughed, his hand continuing to ease the ache of his cock.

“Those titties need me, doll?”

You nodded, unable to form words.

“Pull me out.” He instructed, his hand finally leaving his body to allow you to take over. You shifted forward, hands instantly going to his belt. You undid the button on his dark trousers, pulling the material down his hips with his underwear. You moved the clothing just enough so that his swollen cock was free. His flesh was warm and solid in your hands, the sight inducing a Pavlovian response within you. Your mouth salivated, your pussy thrummed as you bent forward and licked him from base to tip. A low groan filled the room as you did, the sound only fueling your lust.

You allowed your mouth to fill with saliva and suctioned the head of his cock lightly, coating him for your consumption. You let your mouth do most of the work for now, your hand holding him steady. You attacked his flesh like a rapid melting popsicle on a hot summer day. You were determined to savor every drop of him.

“Spit.” He commanded suddenly. You met his eyes as you conjured up enough liquid and did as he said, covering him. “Fuck.” He cursed, fingers dancing along your scalp. You could feel his restraint as he struggled not to choke you down onto him, letting you set your pace.

With the added lubrication, you were able to move easier and you used it to your advantage. Your mouth moved along his length, allowing him to hit the back of your throat and sit there. Mumbled curses and growls spurred you on as your hand began working in tandem with your mouth. You threw all caution to the wind, uncaring of how disheveled you might look with saliva coating your chin and mascara running down your cheeks. Your only concern was getting your husband off.

You remained unmoving as Negan’s hips began to thrust. He was gentle at first, barely moving, but now he assaulted your throat with a vengeance, his hand no longer practicing self-control. He kept you locked to him, your nose brushing against the hair that trailed from just below his navel. Tears erupted from your eyes as you struggled to breathe, but you didn’t pull away. You let him fuck your throat, let him desecrate your mouth in the way you knew he wanted to do to your pussy. The thought sent a new wave of arousal that settled in your panties.

“Goddamn, doll…” He groaned as he finally released your head and allowed you to take in air.

You swallowed away the spittle and sting of pain he’d left in his wake, though a line of saliva still kept you momentarily connected to him. You took in his spit soaked cock, the head an angry shade of red. The tip was dotted with a clear liquid, the saltiness lingering on your tongue. His hand was back to stroking himself, the flesh sliding easily against each other.

“You almost made me fucking cum.” He exclaimed with heavy breaths as he squeezed the base of his cock, his pupils blown out and masking his colorful irises.

You wiped at your chin and moved your hips against nothing, your desperation magnifying. You wanted so badly to cum, the persistent throbbing of your pussy a constant reminder. But you were far from done with Negan.

You wordlessly grasped his cock, shooing his own hand away. He watched in rapt fascination as you pulled the lower edge of the latex covering your breasts away from your body. With your free hand you slipped Negan’s cock easily beneath the hem and sheathed him right between your breasts. He was trapped between your flesh and the constricting fabric, but he obviously was in no hurry to remove himself.

“You gonna let me fuck those titties, baby?”

His voice was low and wanting, his excitement palpable. You met his gaze and nodded as you began to move your upper body. The extra lubrication aided your movements as you pushed your breasts together, squeezing his cock in a way that had him throwing his head back.

“Shit, that feels fucking amazing.” He groaned, his abdomen tensing with each stroke.

You moved slowly at first, finding a steady rhythm. His hips moved with you, sliding his cock between your breasts like he was sliding between your legs. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his pleasure held him prisoner. A man as powerful as Negan was rarely seen as vulnerable, yet you had the benefit of seeing him so undone, and it did more for you than you’d ever thought possible.

“Cum for me, Daddy…” You softly demanded. His wild eyes met yours and you took advantage, spitting on his cock again. You felt him twitch against your chest, the action having the desired effect.

“Fucking fuck. Can I cum on your titties?” He asked, the exertion clear in his voice.

“You can cum anywhere you want.” You said, a tender lilt coating your words. Your body never broke stride, continuing to take his cock while your hands held your breasts together. Precum was leaking from his tip, lubricating your movements as you increased your pace.

“Show me those gorgeous tits, baby…lemme see ‘em.” Negan grunted, the veins in his neck bulging with effort.  

You obeyed, pulling your arms from the straps and pushing the materiel down your torso so that it no longer wrapped around your breasts. You removed him from beneath the band of the bra, his flesh now freely bouncing over yours. You took a minute to tease him, letting the head of his cock rub sensuously at your nipples. Your body hummed with satisfaction at the way his jaw clenched and his knuckles gripped at the sofa beneath him. He was breathing through his nose, the rhythm almost sounding angry if not for the simple fact that his cock was wedged between your tits.

He was getting close. You could feel him tense, practically hear his teeth cracking with how hard he was biting down. You sped up your movements, your breasts bouncing against his cock in tight strokes. You played with your nipples as he stared down at you, danger of a different kind completely clouding his gaze.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

You doubled your efforts and was immediately rewarded for it. Warm ropes of cum coated your chest and neck, the liquid landing with a heaviness that made your pussy clamp around itself. Negan grunted and groaned above you, head thrown back and hips stuttering as he released. You continued to move, milking him for all he was worth. His cock spasmed as his body tensed with orgasmic relief. His skin turned flush as a fine sheen of sweat broke out onto the surface. You slowed your touch when he hissed against the oversensitivity, his cock now going soft.

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll. Were you trying to fuck the life outta me?” He joked, his words interrupted by heavy panting.

You flashed a self-satisfied smirk while gently stroking his now flaccid cock. You felt his cum trailing down your chest in thick rivulets. You were still unsatisfied and brimming with need. Urged on by Negan’s heavy-lidded gaze, you grasped your breasts in your hands, rubbing his cum into your skin. He grunted in approval, the edge of his tongue peeking from the confines of his mouth.

“You need Daddy, don’t you baby?”

His voice washed over you like molasses, the sensual roughness of it only adding to the blaze burning inside of you. A strand of hair broke free from the rest as it rested against his forehead. That predatory stare was back in his eyes as he regarded your yearning for him. You moaned in response, a call to your lover.

He answered.

“Stand up.”

You climbed onto shaky feet, using his legs as support. You waited and watched as he slipped himself back into his pants, leaving the buttons undone. He scooted to the edge of the couch, his face now even with the place that ached the most. His hands wasted no time as they gripped the edge of your panties and pulled. The material made it difficult to do so, but Negan’s strength was no match for yours and he was able to relieve you of the latex far quicker than you’d been able to dress in them. You went to step out of your heels, but he gave a firm shake of his head, silently expressing not to.

“On the bed. Face down and pussy skyward.” He ordered gruffly, gesturing to the majestic piece of furniture he referred to as his bed. The mattress was settled high onto a wooden frame, grey and black sheets covering the soft pillow beneath.

You did as he said, crawling onto the bed and arching your back so that your face was pressed against the Egyptian cotton sheets. The mess on your chest transferred to the fabric beneath you and you delighted in the small fact that you were staining his pristine bed. You listened closely, knowing better than to look over your shoulder. His footsteps were muted against the rug, but you could feel his presence at your back. You were perched near the edge of the bed, easily accessible for what you knew was about to come next.

“This pussy really needs a Daddy’s touch, baby…” He breathed against your soaked sex, his fingers tracing the outer edges of your lips. “You sure you don’t want my cock instead?”

You angled your hips closer to him, begging for a reprieve after being so good to him. You were just about to plead for mercy when his tongue assaulted your pussy with one long swipe. You tried not to flinch away from the onslaught of pleasure, clutching the bedding beneath you with a grip that mirrored Negan’s only moments before.

“Shit,” You moaned as his hands gripped your ass, positioning you perfectly on his waiting mouth. He spread you so that you were on display and accessible, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

“You didn’t answer my question, doll.”

You struggled to remember what he’d asked, his tongue slowly torturing you by tracing your swollen lips but never penetrating beyond that point. You whimpered, trying to shift yourself closer to his warmth.

“Please, Negan…” You unabashedly begged, ready to be put out of your misery.

“Wrong.”

A fierce slap reverberated from your pussy, forcing a yelp from your parted lips. You jerked away but heavy hands kept you in place.

“Daddy!” You amended, hoping he was in a forgiving mood.

A gentle touch rubbed at your opening, easing the sting that had settled between your thighs. The strike had hurt more so than usual because of the moisture that coated your flesh. Your tensed muscles eased some as he lazily teased your clit, a long finger barely entering you.

“That’s better. Relax for Daddy and lemme take care of you.” He soothed.

You submitted and eased the hold your fists had on the blankets. You felt him drag you closer, opening you up for his attack. You waited with baited breath until his tongue pierced you. You gasped as he devoured you from behind, his finger still rubbing at your clit. His entire mouth encased you, his tongue dragging along your soaked walls. You struggled to stay put as he tasted every inch of you, his tongue useful for more than just witty quips and inappropriate humor.

“I’m close.” You moaned as he moved faster and harder, the tendrils of ecstasy beginning to pull you under. You didn’t need much. Pleasuring Negan like you did had set you on a face track for climax before he’d ever even touched you.

Your muscles burned with unreleased tension, your pussy struggling to clench down on Negan’s tongue. The sound of his lips sloppily drinking from your body filled the room as it threatened to send you over the edge.

“Cum for me. Cum for Daddy.”

Two fingers filled you unexpectedly, forcing your pussy to accommodate. You arched your back against the sensations, feeling the sweet burn begin to make its way up from the tips of your toes. Stars danced behind your tightly shut eyes as your entire body tremored against Negan’s rapidly moving fingers. Your walls squeezed around the appendages, flooding them with your release. You could vaguely hear the appreciative curses from your husband as your body succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure it’d been victim to.

“Oh, god…” You moaned as your high began to settle. The lustful fog was still thick, but you began to come back into your body, your exhaustion now taking over. Your face was still pressed against the bed, your lower half still sitting high. Negan’s hands were caressing your ass, his fingers trailing in the slickness that now coated your thighs.

“I cannot wait to have this tight cunt wrapped around me.” He emphasized his statement with a palm to your thoroughly ravaged pussy, his hand rubbing through your folds with lazy strokes.

You pulled away, too sensitive to have him touching you with such force. “Don’t.” You whimpered.

He released you, but your reprieve was short-lived. He turned you onto your back, your lethargic body unable to fight against his. Your legs were kept spread by his body between them, the grin on his lips almost wide enough to split his face. He appraised your supple form, taking note of the drying tracks of him still marring your chest. His hands grasped your breasts, touching with careful precision. You could feel him watching your face, waiting for you to push him away. But you didn’t.

“You’re gorgeous.” He admitted, new flames of desire roaring to life in his eyes.

“And you’re full of shit.” You teased, your legs trapping his fully clothed body against your nude one.

“I never lie about post-coitus glows, doll.” Negan said with a wink, a finger tracing your nipple.

You outwardly laughed at his words, choosing to ignore the spark his touch induced. “Good to know.”

He eyed you for a long moment, long enough to make you feel self-conscious. You would’ve thought he was trying to read your thoughts, but the smirk he wore said something else. There was a reverence to his gaze, as if he was in astonishment of your existence. That’s what you needed from him. You were more than one amongst five in a harem. Negan was starting to see that too.

“Give Daddy some sugar.” He ordered with a finger tapping his bearded lips.

You let out a girlish giggle, but took the hand he offered so that you could sit upright. You met him in a kiss, the action far from gentle and fueled by passion. Tongues tasted the other, teeth clashed as your lips moved in sync with the other. Your hands ran through his hair while his settled at your hips, running the length of your back.

You both pulled away when air became an issue, the look of satiation surely reflecting in both of your faces. Negan ran a thumb under your eye, no doubt attempting to clean the smeared mascara that had settled there.

“You know, for not getting pounded by my dick, you sure fucking look like you did.” Negan teased with a chuckle as he cradled your face in his hands.

“Gee, thanks.” You retorted flatly, aware that his words were very true. You were sure you looked a complete mess…a gorgeous mess in Negan’s eyes.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, doll.”

He helped you off the bed, leading you to his bathroom. You ditched your heels as you walked with him, aware that the longer you did this with him, the harder it was going to be to deny him each time. More time spent with Negan meant more time for temptation that you were positive you wanted. You’d been ready to sleep with him, but having him consume you in every other way but fucking you made it all the more sweeter. And soon enough you knew you’d break.

It was only a matter of time.

#negan #negan the walking dead #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x female reader #negan twd #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #negan fic

[abonelessgod]

Could you do something where Ivar comes across a nun during a church raiding and decides to keep her? *wink*wink* Love your blog so far!

Thanks for requesting! It’s rather short and no smut (sorry, felt like i should go with a more...reliable version of the story lol?) but i hope you like it.

also, if anyone wants to read ivar deflowering an innocent little nun then lmk and i’ll see what i can do! (bc we’re all mad pervs here) 

<3

@youbloodymadgenius

No particular TWs - brief mentions of raiding horrors.

## gif by me, do not claim as your own. credit if using ##

~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ 

Your fingers clutch the cross hanging from your neck as you run for your life. All around you there’s chaos - women screaming, men trying to fight for their lives, a child crying for his mother. This is sodom and gomorrah, you think to yourself. This is the end of all ends.

But in God’s eyes life has the greater value, above all others. And God wants you to live. Two men approach you, trying to corner you. You slip right between them, oblivious to the serpent eyes that follow your every move. Eyes searching frantically, you decide to hide behind a huge chest in the corner of the room. Even for just a little while. 

The barbarians continue to slaughter and steal, their filthy hands possessing everything they can touch. You shudder in silence. But deep down you know that sooner or later they’ll get to you.

Suddenly, a man’s shadow is covering the entire corner. He’s towering over your kneeling form. You flinch and shrink when suddenly a voice thunders in a different language, just before he swings the axe your way. Two large hands pull you up to your feet. Then you’re being dragged onward. 

“Not her!” Ivar roars. 

“But you said…” the man argues. “- I know what I said. But not her.” Ivar cuts him short, the man sulks and walks away.

You stand before him and his finger motions you to move forward. You’re momentarily amazed to find out that he speaks your language.

“Do you know who my father is, Christian?” he asks in a strange tone, is it sarcasm you’re smelling? Disdain? Nevertheless, you shake your head ‘no’.

“My father is the great Ragnar Lothbrok.” Ivar said, spreading his hands in pride. His smile is beautiful, pleasant even. But it somehow intimidates you. Of course every man and woman knew who Ragnar Lothbrok was. The entire population of England feared him.

“I am Ivar the Boneless, and you, nun - will be coming with us.” he says in a dark tone that creeps down your spine. “I would soon die before going with you, so help me god.” you reply instantly but the young man does not seem surprised. 

“Your God has no say in this. Only me.” Ivar laughs, then his men laugh along. You bite your tongue and clutch your cross harder. Ivar catches that movement but says nothing further. 

“Take her. Make sure she’s well fed and treated.” 

~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ 

Days and months pass in Kattegat, and Ivar the Boneless soon becomes your patron of sorts. While he allows you to keep your beliefs and customs - what he demands in return is information. He sips every word about the Christian world as if it was the most compelling nectar - but of course he has to contradict it all at the end of every “tale”, as he likes to call them.

One time you ask him why he brought you here.

Ivar pauses, a ghost of a smile showing on his face for a split second. “My father had Athelstan, I’m assuming you know the stories about the Christian priest who was taken to live as one of us.” He answered, seemingly reluctant to speak more of the man. “If my father could have a priest, I don’t see why I can’t have a Christian nun.” he says plainly.

“I only wish you took that hideous thing off your head every once in a while. You have such nice hair.” he says abruptly and your cheeks inflame.

“No point in denying it, Y/N. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen all of you. I see everything.” He confesses without a hint of regret, leaning closer to you. 

Your hand goes immediately to the same cross. Ivar laughs.

“One day Y/N...One day you will love me more than that Christian God of yours...I’ll make sure of it.” Ivar muses before he climbs off his chair and begins to crawl away. Then he stops to peek at you.

“Even if I have to become a God myself. I will fight him, I will fight your God and I will win. Sooner or later, your heart will belong to me.”

#ivar #ivar the god #ivar the boneless #ivar the king #ivar ragnarsson #vikings #imagine ivar #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #imagine vikings #ivar fic #ivar the boneless fic #ivar x y #ivar x you #ivar x oc #ivar x y/n #alex hogh andersen

[an-ordinary-roach]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

repost, don’t reblog

basics !

FULL NAME. Nathanial Montay Costa  Barbor PRONUNCIATION. Bah-Are Bo-or NICKNAME. Bor, Roachie, Pest  GENDER. Transmasc agender HEIGHT. Veries, [ 2′ - 4′ as a roach or small fae, 5′6″ glamored, normal-sized fae, happy buddy bor.  7′1″ Base bor,  8′1″ - 9′1″ Bug boss / Plague goat] AGE.  137 ZODIAC.  Gemini SPOKEN LANGUAGES. Italian, English, latin, spanish( still very new to it and confuses it with latin and italian), Sylvin(for when they’re in Jabberwock’s forest.)

physical characteristics !

HAIR COLOR. grey with a magenta/cyan shine when light hits it EYE COLOR. can turn white when surprised or excited but other than that it’s all black, plague goat got black sclera with white pupils BODY TYPE.  skin in bones in most forms, cockroach bor is pretty plump and well-fed, fae/ glamored/ happybuddy is athletic and lean, but looks a tad underweight ACCENT.  sounds like a new yorker’s accent though that hint of italian seeps in whenever they’re thinking out loud VOICE. Can’t verbally speak it but has an amalgamation Collection ( overlapping with young, old, femme, masc, androgynous)  small roachie and base form, this for  fae and glamored(dossa’s/first part), and plague goat/ bug boss DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous  POSTURE. slouches in fae, glamored, base form and happybuddy, the rest is usually straight   TATTOOS. sigil of them on all their forms but base (can be seen when their asleep, them not thinking they can’t shapeshift in their base form keep’s it away)

BIRTHMARKS. As a human, they had a foot-shaped birthmark on their foot MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Proto eyes on all their forms( even happy buddy n glamored fae), face can split vertically in all fourm’s (even base form), can survive without a head(same as base form, they dunno they can do either of the face split or head removal), uses their wings to work their necromancy,  chewed up antennae(on the left I think),  back as a human they had  Heterochromia, the missing eye was hazel but they barely remember even having it since they lost the eye at a young age

childhood !

PLACE OF BIRTH. in or near the hospital’s elevator- HOMETOWN. New york, new york city BIRTH WEIGHT. average  BIRTH HEIGHT. chubby bab FIRST WORDS. ‘Fuck!’  supposed to be fork because they kept seeing their fam use it and they want it~

SIBLINGS. 2 older brothers, 1 younger sister (all deceased ) PARENTS. Mother &  Father (also deceased! ) PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.  mother and father were good to them, though their mother wanted Nat(pre-human bor) to keep them away from the mob life with the help of afterschool music classes and singing clubs. They oddly enough the only time they had fun in the church is when they're either playing the organ or singing in the choir.  While it took some persuading on Nat’s part to have him even allow them in some missions, though he eased up on his control on what they do once they got into the mortician line of work. They helped their dad get rid of bodies safely and discretely, patched up fellow gang members' wounds, and helped them get some extra money.

adult life !  

OCCUPATION.  Freelance Cadaver removal, on-call doctor, necromancer, jewelry maker, sells potions for Jeze at the Canopy Market, familiar  CURRENT RESIDENCE. has a heck ton of common rest stops!  Usually, in these places, they’re in their mammoth femur bone or matchbox hidy hole CLOSE FRIENDS. Eerie , Jeze,  Xaallo, Stanley, Burt, Kavi, Bill(another bill!) and a few others I may be forgetting?? ;w; RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single ( depending on the verse) FINANCIAL STATUS. if they can’t steal the money they’re middle class, but if so they’re technically rich?? DRIVER’S LICENSE. nope got wings and portals! CRIMINAL RECORD. petty crimes, theft, shoplifting, murder, arson, robbery, vandalism, restraining arrest, property damage, smuggling, trespassing, money laundry, accomplice to any one of these. (these are during their days in the mob, most of these are unchecked after being a demon, though magic places are a tricky spot too though) VICES. long-lasting grudges, impulsiveness, sometimes don’t learn from their mistakes, can be childish and a bit wishy-washy, sometimes putting their work before others, sometimes. (Only if they’re not friends with a person.) can’t really leave that gang mentality behind.

sex and romance !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. pansextual  ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.  Pan-aroflux? they’re romo positive but it isn’t always on their mind most of the time. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive  | dominant |  switch   PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive  | dominant  |  switch LIBIDO. mid-high (spring-summer)  mid-low (fall-winter) TURN ONS.  peeps giving them gifts( doesn’t gotta be high end, could be things that the person reminds of them), confidence, peeps who know their way around science, smooches to their antennae or beak/snoot by their crush, peeps who are good with their hands(I’ve noticed the trend with them)     TURN OFFS. rich people, CEOs who think their hotshots, peeps on their grudge list,  there’s probably more to this list but I dunno ;w; LOVE LANGUAGE. gift-giving(It’s a grab bag of actual valuables or random knickknacks they remind them of the person), starts requesting to join in their activities, actively makes things for said person instead of poofing them in, loves to cook for peeps, allows close ones cover their small little eyes, please squish them full access, grooming is a big thing for them either by tongue or offering to paint nails, brush hair, etc RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.  always eager to please( genuinely doesn’t mind the rejection or isn’t doing it out of anxiousness), can and will tease but mostly can’t take what they dish out(so it’s probably why they do it randomly), Does have a habit of dipping away without a word(mostly bc of work or a knoxonk hunt going on) Gets anxious about future commitment stuff may be reaaaally slow with that stuff (mostly bc of what happened to their last relationship as a human). or anxious if the loved one still enjoys being with them, the feeling comes and goes honestly. If sick will want to find a way to help you out first before seeing a doctor (if it’s not too serious. If they die they will revive them). They can be jealous if they don’t like someone and the partner does. will say ‘want me to fuck them up’ in case there’s a person giving their loved one a mild inconvenience. Will have a set form for that particular person, if it’s in a multi relationship it’ll still be a common set form. 

miscellaneous !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. 1. Superbug · King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard 2. Necromancin Dancin - Bear Ghost 3.  Gravedigger's Chant - Zeal & Ardor 4. Voltaire - The Headless Waltz 5.  Mr. Pinstripe Suit -  Big Bad Voodoo Daddy 

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Jewelry making, music playing, spelunking, singing, urban exploring, working on their virus / fleshscape, testing on peeps(with their consent), medicine & illness research, collecting wine and variety of things MENTAL ILLNESSES.  not sure if this counts?? but they have ADHD,  if there’s anything else I gotta workshop and do research on! PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. visual snow syndrome( had it as a human but it’s non-visual symptoms carried over into their demon life: tinnius, brain fog, depersonalization(you’ll see them in roach mode aka: act like a common pest roach you’ll find in the kitchen, this usually last for a day if it does come about)  and the very rare occasion of tremors.) LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. right-brained FEARS.  phobia of dolls, rejection, future biz, some failure, being trapped against their will, being ‘fired’ and having their friends/family get the brunt of the punishment, this is specific but the saying ‘money survives all hardships’ SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.  fake it till they make it (it fluctuates but it’s usually in a good place) VULNERABILITIES. iron, holy stuff, red rope/thread to make wards against knoxonks, some mystery substance to limit their power(mun gotta work it out), their kill word, magic nullifying items Stolen from: @idjibivdu​ thank!~ tagging: steal it!~

#bugheadcanons #[[ I said this before but before bor's hate for rich people pre-demon bor was in that catagory #sure they weren't snobby or selfish against human life but they still killed peeps for rich peeps for dosh; #they remember it and they /hate it/. no hate for mercenaries/ bounty hunter/ and assassins so long their client isn't a #crude ceo or rich guy trying to get rid of their innocent fam]]

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

A Night At The Opera- Chapter 1

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May x reader/ John Deacon x reader

TW: one of the bandmates is a dickhead.

Genre: Horror ig?? ( based on phantom Of the opera)

Series: A Night At The Opera

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Ugh I had to repost this twice bc tumblr is a dick. Anyway, I hope you guys like the first chapter of my (Not so scary) Halloween series!

For as long as the theatre had been running, there’d always been rumours running around of a being living beneath its foundations, causing all the seeming accidents that took place on the operas most successful nights. A light falling on stage.Musical instruments shattered to pieces. Actors and actresses, singers and drummers too sick to take part in the performance, with two circular marks on their neck. Phantom hiding in the shadows, speaking to no one, never to be seen. But to Freddie Mercury, that only added excitement to the already beautiful place he was to perform at later.

“Come on darlings! We’ll be late!” Freddie called into his shared apartment, adjusting his hair for the thousandth time in the mirror, quickly turning side to side to check his outfit. He just HAD to look his best. In the mirror, the singer saw his two friends emerge from Deaky’s bedroom, and he smiled mischievously at their messed hair, swollen lips and dishevelled clothes.

“Sorry, Fred, we got busy,” (Y/N) giggled, glancing over at her partner in crime, before swiftly trying to fix his clothes so he looked at least a TINY bit presentable to his audience later. Freddie couldn’t help but smile at his friends. He and (Y/N) had been friends for as long as his family had been staying in London. She helped him through college, despite having no knowledge of what he studied. And when Queen was formed, she took place in the role of the roadie and the techie. They were so close, she was more than a friend. She was a sister.

“I can see that, dears. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Now, come on! (Y/N), love, do you have the equipment we need tonight?” Freddie asked with a chuckle, beginning to pick up a few bits he’d need later that evening, including his camera. If he was going to this theatre, he was taking pictures, ghost or not.

“Of course, I do. It’s by the door behind you, you oblivious mule,” She walked up to him and playfully nudged his shoulder as she passed, grabbing the equipment from next to the door. Most of the bigger stuff stayed in Roger’s van but a few things had to be kept inside, as not to be lost in the mess of that van. Deaky laughed heartily, sparing a glance in the mirror to fix his hair.

“I thought you were meant to know her, Freddie! She’s always prepared,” Deaky pressed a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek as he brushed past her to pull the door open, holding it for her as she began to lug the equipment towards the elevator down to the ground floor of the apartment complex. Freddie shook his head, tongue between his teeth as he smiled and followed his friends out, making sure to grab (Y/N)’s purse, which had been abandoned on the counter, before shutting the door behind him and locking it.

“Are you sure you couldn’t get anywhere grander, Fred?” Roger questioned his friend, giving him a raised eyebrow as he helped their roadie and friend carry some of their tech into the back door of the theatre, eyeing the expensive-looking decor. Deaky brought his bass and the guitarists amp.

“How much did this place cost us, Fred?” Deaky pushed, worry lacing his voice, knowing how tight budgets were then, anxiously looking at all the glitz and glamour this theatre had. And they were only backstage, so God only knew what the main stage and the crowd looked like. (Y/N) placed Deaky’s amp down and some of the cables onto a table nearby, watching and Deaky, Roger and Freddie placed everything they were holding down beside your stuff.

“Don’t you worry about it, darling. I know someone, got us a few weeks here to perform, and dears, we have sold out most days! We’ll be stars before the week is out!” Freddie brushed the pair off, delight and excitement lacing his throat. Roger and Deaky exchanged nervous looks. What if this didn’t work out?

“Ugh! Where has that guitarist gotten to now? He said he’d be here by now!” It wasn’t uncommon for Adam to be late for rehearsal, or sometimes even shows. But this was important. This could be the launch of Queen “I need to test his amp!”

(Y/N) had been pacing for the last few hours, running around to prepare everything for their show, grabbing water so the boys would have something to drink after the show and during Adam’s painful guitar solos. She poured beer onto some of Rogers drums, fixed lighting, adjusted Freddie’s mic, fixed an issue with Deaky’s amp and even cleaned the backstage. She hadn’t stopped moving since they’d walked in and with Adam late, her stress was climbing.

“(Y/N), lovely, you need to take a breather. You’re going to burn yourself out. Take a break, please. I’ll try to call Adam, just calm down,” Deaky took her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and gently leading her to one of the couches. He kissed her forehead, running a loving hand across her cheek.

“But, Deaky-”

“No, my darling. Can’t have you too stressed before the show has even started. Stay here, or I’ll make Freddie come back here,” Deaky threatened with a cheeky smile and the girl couldn’t help but give him a tiny smirk and nodded. The long-haired brunette stood up after connecting his lips to your cheek once more and ran out, going to find the closest phone. (Y/N) instantly started tapping her feet, blowing her cheeks out in boredom. It was a strange feeling -to not do anything when she’s normally always moving. A guitar lay in the corner of the room. One of Adam’s. The one he hated- said it never made the right sound. But she didn’t think he could ever make the right sound. One of the reasons Queen hadn’t properly taken off anywhere. But they were desperate. Slowly, the woman stood up and picked the guitar up, strumming it, only to cringe at how out of tune the instrument was. Her fingers twisting the tuning keys, listening until it was perfectly in tune. When she sat back down with the guitar, she realised how long it had been since she last played; (Y/N) had been taking private lessons, but when she agreed to become Queen’s first roadie, she found that she had no time to attend those lessons before. Adam had attempted to teach her once or twice but he wasn’t the best guitarist, let alone a good teacher so eventually, she just forgot about it. Until now, it seemed. Placing her fingers on the fretboard, she picked up one of the coins from the table and began to strum Jailhouse Rock. It was a bit slower than the original song, and some of the notes were wrong, but considering how long it had been since she’d played, she was rather proud of herself. Quietly, and without realising it, her voice joined into the tune, a little off the pitch due to how soft she’d sang it. As she reached the last cord, (Y/N) felt a shiver run up her spine, the hairs on her arm and neck stood on end. She looked around, no longer feeling like she was alone.

“Hello?” She called out, placing the guitar next to her and standing up again, looking around.

“Your playing is rusty, but it has potential,” The new voice made (Y/N) jump and she span around instantly, noticing a woman approaching her.

“I don’t think it matters, to be honest- I’m just a roadie,” She chuckled in response, awkwardly shoving her hands into her jean pockets. This new woman had her hair pinned back in a 50’s style hairdo, a black dress hiding her body. She had lines all across her face, signifying her years of age and she kept her hands folded neatly behind her back as she got even closer.

“That doesn’t matter. He’ll like you,” The woman stated, grabbing (Y/N)’s chin and turning it side to side. A small smile rose on her face, as she examined the now uncomfortable roadie.

“Okay, who are you talking about? Who ARE you?”  (Y/N) asked, pulling her face away from her sharply, narrowing her eyes slightly. She knew this woman probably worked here but now she was confused as to why she was grabbing her face. Who would like her? What was she talking about?

“My name is Lucille. I’m the manager here. Do you know that this place used to be an opera?” Lucille asked, taking a small step back from (Y/N). Her smile was still there but it seemed darker.

“No. I just moved some of the stuff and connected everything. Guess Freddie’s getting his wish- we are spending a night at the opera,” (Y/N) answered, attempting to joke to break the tense atmosphere.

“Listen for his singing. You would be foolish to ignore it,” Lucille simply said before walking backwards for a few steps, turning to the door and leaving. (Y/N) was left alone in the backroom, wondering what the hell had just happened.

“Are we all ready for a soundcheck, darlings?” Freddie asked, tilting his head to look at the three men behind him, all of which nodded, then looking to the roadie, sat on the edge of the stage, ready to run around to fix something that had gone wrong.

“Ready, Freddie!” (Y/N) gave him two thumbs up, glancing up at all the lights above their heads and the wooden walkways that helped reach them. She’d have so much fun playing with them later. However, for a split second, she swore she saw something move, but it moved so fast, it really could have just been her imagination. Her eyebrows furrowed but she focused her eyes back on the band in front of her, watching as Roger counted them in and they began playing a song Freddie had written recently called Liar. It sounded amazing. Well. Almost. Adam’s off-tune playing threw the entire song on a side angle. (Y/N) winced at a particularly sour note. She had taught yourself this song as soon as Freddie presented it to her, so hearing the relatively easy into being butchered by the guitarist was painful to her. As the band continued to make their way through the setlist, (Y/N) wrote down what needed to be fixed and quirked, in order of its importance and th amount of time it would take. There was still a few hours before the show, but she wanted to make sure she finished the most important stuff first. Just as she looked back down at her notes, however, a light came tumbling from the ceiling and landed right in front of Adam, making him jump back and crash into Roger’s drum set. Thankfully, the drums weren’t damaged or knocked over, but Roger fell off his stool, making a loud crash. Instantly, all the music came to a sudden halt and (Y/N) ran over to Roger and Adam, panicked and worried. Roger groaned as Deaky ran over, helping the drummer sit up.

“Mother fucker, shit!” Roger grumbled, squinting in pain when he brushed his hand against the back of his head. Freddie was inspecting Adam for any injuries and (Y/N) just looked up at the ceiling, back to the scaffolding where the lights were stationed.

“Fucking bitch is trying to kill me! Hey, (Y/N), you didn’t check the FUCKING lights!” Adam began screeching, louder and louder each time Freddie attempted to shush him or defend the girl.

“That- That light isn’t ours. One of the theatre’s…” She muttered, looking back to the men “Sorry, I’ll go check what happened,” (Y/N) stood up but when she started heading towards the door that leads to the stairs, a hand grabbed her own. She turned around, looking back to find Deaky, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from performing, worry ablaze in his eyes.

“No, love, it’s not safe up there, we can cope without one light,” He reasoned softly, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. (Y/N) gave him a loving smile before shaking her head.

“We can’t have another one falling during the show. What if another light falls and hits one of you, this time? I’ll be right back, I promise,” Slowly, she pulled her hand out of his grip, giggling as he kept contact until her arm slid right out. A teasing kiss was blown in his direction before Deaky’s lover was gone, up the stairs and into the scaffolding. The wood between the lights was rickety, but strangely stable, as was the rope ‘handrail’.  Something up here was freaking her out, an odd feeling rising through her. As if she was being watched by someone… or something. No. That was ridiculous. (Y/N) quickly brushed the thought away as she checked every light until she reached the place where the light had fallen. As she took a closer look at it, however, she noticed that nothing was wrong with the stand it was in. It looked quite new and looked almost as if...as if someone had detached it themselves. Footsteps sounded from behind her. (Y/N) shot a look over a shoulder. Nothing. Maybe she was just mad. Or tired. She was working herself to the bone recently. But she needed to look into that light. Did they tend to fall off? Were the stands not very good? Surely no one would try to kill or injure anyone on stage. Right?   She was tired. That’s all. She was just tired. When she went to bed, she’d feel a lot better. Yes, that’s right. Though she’d started to convince herself otherwise, she couldn’t deny the tall figure standing at the end of the walkway. And the way he looked at her like she was a juicy steak. Or the way he pulled her closer without even moving. The arguing of the band beneath her died down and all she could hear was his quiet voice singing, luring her in. She hadn’t even realised that she was slowly getting closer to his extended hand. His lower face was hidden by a black surgical mask and his dark eyes were fixed on her with intense security. Never moving off her. A small smile slid to his lips when (Y/N) got close enough to grab his hand. Her rough hands gripped onto the smooth leather of his gloves.

But just as this stranger went to lead her off, his eyes narrowed and he took off, releasing her hand. (Y/N) stumbled back in a haze. What had just happened? She nearly fell off the wooden walkway when two arms wrapped around her waist. Clumsily, the roadie turned around, fingers gripping the ropes. Lucille stood behind her, watching the girl with careful eyes.

“I’ve seen him take interest quickly, but never that fast. You must be careful. Go, I will fix this, you go back to your friends,” (Y/N) scanned the older woman's face, confusion embedded deep in her eyes. What was going on at this weird opera house? “Now.”

Without another word, Lucille brushed past her, disappearing into a doorway, that she swiftly locked behind her.

When (Y/N) rejoined the group below, they were all looking at her in concern, noticing the distant look in her eyes and the way she looked to be in a daze. However, one person who refused to be sympathetic was Adam.“So, what happened?” Adam demanded, finally taking the strap of his guitar off and carefully placing the guitar down. She couldn’t stop herself from looking up into the darkened scaffolding, goosebumps rising on her skin.

“N-nothing. It was just a faulty stand. I checked the others too. There won’t be any casualties tonight,” She attempted to joke but she couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that seemed to follow her and seep through her skin. Adam raised his nose at her before waltzing off, despite being in the middle of soundcheck. Looks like they’d have to go without one. Deaky made his way over to (Y/N), gently, intertwining their fingers when he got close enough. His lips pressed against her temple, seeing the spooked look in her eyes.

“Are you okay, love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Deaky always got too worried over people. He was very motherly and domestic in that way. Roger could bang his elbow on something and Deaky would fuss about it for days. Or Freddie could have a voice crack and Deaky would insist on him having a break and drinking tea, even going out of his way to make sure Freddie didn’t even talk. He was the same with (Y/N), almost always worse.

“I’m just scared that another light is going to fall and someone’s going to get hurt,” She lied smoothly. Well, it wasn’t an entire lie. She was concerned that another light would fall. But if it fell, she was almost sure it wouldn’t be an accident. (Y/N) was entirely convinced that that tall stranger had something to do with the first light. Deaky chuckled, though admittedly, he was slightly fearful too.  He gave his girlfriends hand a firm squeeze and kissed it quickly.

“Everything will be fine. I promise.”

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series):

Tags:  @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky@yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten   @bensroger@strangeandwonderfulconcepts@babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose @psychosupernatural

#queen #queen x reader #queen imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury imagine #phantom of the opera #a night at the opera #anato #phoebe writes

[sortasirius]

In Stitches

Pairing: Dean/Cas because I’m predictable

AN: This is way longer than I thought it would be and is very fluffy and sort of a 15x02/15x03 coda?  I mean it’s not gonna happen but a girl can dream.

Warnings: None really, just a little Supernatural-like violence and a lot of fluff, my opinions of what’s on The Mixtape lmao

Words: 1640 bc I know no chill.

On my AO3 here.

Cas is bleeding.

He’s used to it now, the stinging pain of the night air on the open wound on his arm, the warm trickles of blood turning cool as they hit the air.  He had been hurt in the last eleven years more than he had in the last ten thousand, but that was just a part of being a Winchester he supposed.

Dean throws him a towel, shoving Sam, who is semi-conscious, in the front seat, while Belphegor scrambles in next to Cas and Rowena is already settled in the back, breathing hard. Cas holds the towel to his arm, turning it from white it deep red, as Dean peals off and starts hauling ass in the direction of the Bunker.

Needless to say, their latest plot to stop the hundreds of ghosts Chuck had released into the world had not gone so well.  Rowena had tried everything; some of the most powerful magic in the known Universe, but in they had burst, hundreds of them, while Sam, Dean, Cas tried their best to take out as many as they could, there’s only so much three of them can do.  Rowena was weak from the spell and it’s not like Belphegor was chomping at the bit to help, so they had fought their way to the Impala and booked it out of there.

They screech into the Bunker’s garage at around 3 in the morning.  Dean and Cas half carry, half drag Sam to his room, where Cas uses the last of his energy to heal every wound he can find on Sam.  There’s nothing he can do about the wound in Sam’s shoulder, which is changing rapidly, turning from red to green to purple and then back to red.  He and Dean look at each other as Sam sleeps between them.

“This doesn’t look good, Dean.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I can’t heal this.”

Dean sighs, looking at Sam,

“Thanks Cas, you did all you could.”

Dean looks over at him, green eyes catching blue.

“Let me stitch that up, I know you spent all your mojo on him.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

They end up in Dean’s room, Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, sinking into the memory foam that Dean is so proud of, while Dean pulls his desk chair around, setting up shop on the bedside table.  Hydrogen peroxide, thread, a sterilized needle, soap and water, clean bandages, all the things that Cas had seen Dean use a thousand times.  Cas looks around for Dean, and finds him in front of his stereo and cassette tapes.

“Can’t stitch you up in silence.”

A moment passes, and Cas reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tape that Dean had given him.  Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx.  Dean flits a smile at him and sets it into the stereo.  “When the Levee Breaks” starts playing gently, and Dean sets to work on Cas’s arm.

The cut is deep, and stings worse than ever when Dean starts cleaning the blood away with the peroxide.  He stiffens and sucks a breath in.

“Don’t be a baby.”

But Dean is gentle when he continues, cleaning the blood away.  It takes them three songs to get through the cleaning.  “Black Dog” and “Bring it on Home” follow “When the Levee Breaks, and Dean hums as he threads his needle and starts carefully sewing Cas up.  Neat and identical stitches, like a line of soldiers.

“How’d this happen anyway?” Dean asks, as “You Shook Me” fades to “Custard Pie.”

“I’m not sure.  It was either the clown or the tall faceless man with the axe.”

Dean scoffs.

“You take care of him?”

“You mean did I shoot him with salt?  Indeed I did.”

Cas hopes he isn’t imagining the pride on Dean’s face.

Dean continues to stitch, tongue between his teeth, and Cas watches him unashamedly, the furrow between his eyebrows, the three day stubble on his cheeks, the scratches on his face from one of the ghosts.

“I should have healed you before we started.”

“Huh?” Dean meets his eyes again.  Trees meeting water.

“That’s okay, Cas, they’re just scratches.”

They fall back into silence.  The steady beat of “Kashmir” replaces “Stairway to Heaven.”

As Dean finishes he stitches, he runs his hand down Cas’ arm, admiring his handiwork.

“You are very good at this.”

Dean’s eyes flick to him again.  His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and Cas tries his best not to stare.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Dean tests the water with his hands as “For Your Life” plays.

“I can finish up if you-”

“No, that’s okay.”

Dean takes his arm again, warm skin on warm skin, and starts cleaning the dried blood around the now neat stitches running their way up Cas’ forearm. It takes some time, three more songs to be precise. “Whole Lotta Love,” “I Can’t Quit You Baby” and, one of Cas’ favorites “How Many More Times.”

He still remembers when Dean gave him the tape.  It was one of the only times he had ever seen Dean shy, but he had come to Cas with his eyes to the floor, more red in the face than he ever would have admitted, and had pushed the tape into Cas’ hands.  Cas remembered reading the label and looking up at Dean, knowing how much this meant to him.

“They go from 13 to 1.  The last one is my favorite.  Took me 45 minutes to pick which one was last,” he had said with a shy smile.  He refused to listen to it with him,

“I don’t want to influence you.”

Cas had spent the whole night listening to the tape over and over, making notes in a notebook, and he knocked on Dean’s door the next morning.

“The last three are my favorite.  Especially “How Many More Times.””

Dean’s face split into a radiant smile, the kind of smile that made Cas feel like he was standing in the sun on a spring day.

“That’s a great one, one of my favorites.  Obviously, I guess.”

Suddenly, he’s taken out of the memory by a stab of pain.  Dean is back on his arm with the peroxide.

“That hurts, Dean.”

“Sorry, sorry, but you don’t want to get an infection.”

“Well, you know I can’t actually-”

“Ok Cas.”

As the final notes of “Traveling Riverside Blues” play on the stereo, Dean straightens up.

“Ok, you should be fine.”

Cas stretches his arm, wincing as the muscles strain.

“If you rip those stitches I’ll kick your ass.”

Cas smiles at him.

“I suppose I should go find Rowena and Belphegor, make sure they’re not in trouble.”

“Hey Cas,” said Dean, catching his arm, his good arm, that is, “What did you mean back in...”

He trails off, clearly not wanting to finish his sentence.  Is he embarrassed or just afraid.  Cas is definitely afraid, he’s always afraid when it comes to losing Dean.  Who would have thought, Heaven’s most devoted soldier turned into something Heaven never intended for him, something almost human.

“Dean, I believe that no matter what, Chuck cannot take away what we mean to each other,” he pauses, not wanting to make Dean uncomfortable, “You, me, Sam.”

Dean wilts a little.

“Oh.”

He starts to walk away, and Cas suddenly feels like he’s holding water that’s slipping through his fingers.

“Dean I just meant-”

Right on cue, the last song on the tape clicked on.  Dean’s favorite, “Ramble On.”  Dean pauses, looking from the stereo back to Cas.

Dean takes a deep breath, looks at Cas, and starts speaking too quickly.

“It’s just that, I really thought that, when we were talking, that you were, that maybe it was, I don’t know, that it was you and me.  That you meant that you and me, what we have is real. That-” he breaks off, “I don’t know.”

Cas takes a step towards Dean, almost unconsciously.  His brain has almost turned off, all he can see is Dean, he isn’t even thinking about what he’s saying.

“I did mean that, Dean.  I do mean that.  I just...I didn’t know how to say it,or if was even right to say it.”

Dean takes another step towards him.

“Yeah well, neither of us are really great with feelings.”

They’re inches away from each other now.  It’s not like they ever had any idea of personal space, but there is something different about this, like someone has picked up a barrier between them.  Cas is desperately aware of the heat coming off of Dean, how hard they are both breathing, how the tips of his fingers tingle with energy, longing to reach out and touch.

Cas is barely aware of the silence in the room.  The mixtape had ended, but it feels like there’s almost a roar in his ears.  Fittingly, they lean forward simultaneously, bridging the gap and giving into what was almost eleven years of sheer buildup.

Cas shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but the softness of Dean, how gently he pulls Cas towards him, how softly he threads his fingers through Cas’ hair.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, pressed flush against each other, but it’s long enough that they hear Sam stirring in the room next to them.  They pull away, Cas missing Dean’s touch immediately.  Dean reaches up and brushes his thumb along Cas bottom lip.  Cas leans into him, and they stay that way for several moments, before they hear Sam stumbling down the hallway, calling their names.

“Just for the record,” Dean says, smiling at Cas as he stands at the door, “I’m glad that you and me are real.”

Cas smiles back at him, running his hands down the neat stitches on his arm.

“Me too.”

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #ficlet #supernatural fic #spn #writing #my writing #i literally cannot stop writing spn fics lmao #sort of a 15x02/03 coda

[madrut16]

Day 16: Flying High

A/N: Another new pairing and MC to debut! I've been brainstorming the backstory and qualities of Zelenia (my Nightbound MC) and I’m still figuring out exactly what I want her to be like. My warm-up to Nik and hers by default as been kind of slow too because I didn’t do many of the diamond scenes in the beginning but, I kind of like the slow burn it created and now I love them so enjoy. If you want to be easily notified when I write for Nik x MC, you know the drill, let me know under this fic and I will add you to the list!

Also, kind of related, I’ve been brainstorming in my head the plot for a potential crossover fic series with Bloodbound where they have to team up to defeat the order and save mankind and creature kind. It’s still a very casual idea for now bc I tend to have them and for many not to stick but, if people want it and I have enough inspiration when I do try to write it, I’ll make sure that I actually follow through for once. 

Day 16: Uncertainty for @choicesjulychallenge by @kinda-iconic 

(sorry these are so late, life and changing my mind are to blame)

Book/Pairing: Nightbound (Nik x MC)

Rating: PG

Summary: Zelenia gets Nik to conquer one of his biggest fears when shares her favorite hobby with him. 

"Rookie, no."

Zelenia had never seen Nik so frightened before. She remembered his uneasiness of heights when they were in Lamrian but, she didn't think it was this bad.

That is until he confessed during a drunken game of Two Truth's and a Lie with their friends that he'd never been on an airplane before. The idea of being strapped into something that has meant the death of many unnerved him. From that moment, Zelenia, whose reaction to flying was the exact opposite, resolved that this was something she had to fix.

Seeing him slowly coming out of his skin behind her, a teasing smile graced her lips.

"Oh come on Nik, this will be fun. The pilot is very experienced," she commented knowingly giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

He shook his head adamantly at her, eyes full moon wide. "Zelenia no. You know all about why I haven't flown before." He strained to make sure the word fear or it's synonym didn't come out.

She placed her hands on her hips. "That's exactly why you should do it, Nik. Facing your fears is a good thing! And you're completely safe. I wouldn't insist on doing this if I didn't think so." He folded his arms, still not quite ready to budge. With a sigh, she pulled her lips down in a dramatic fake pout. "Please. You trust me, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes at her extreme gesture but she didn't back down. Finally, he let out a defeated groan. "Ugh, fine. But only cause I'm tired of Katy giving me crap about it."

A giant smile that was stunningly real grew on her face and she grabbed onto him excitedly. "I knew I'd be able to coax you into it. Now, follow me. The plane should be over here somewhere."

Before he could answer, she took off down the tarmac of the small airport, leaving him struggling to catch up. They finally stopped in front of a white and blue Cessna that looked like it could seat maybe four people at most.

Zelenia's eyes lit up and she breathed in happily. "It's just like I left it. I was worried that it would get damaged in the transport but, there’s not even a paint chip."

His roaming gaze took in the scene in confusion. "Wait, where's the pilot?"

A snicker escaped her lips, amused that he hadn't figured it out yet. "Nik, you're looking at her."

"You?" He gaped at her in disbelief.

She nodded. "I have the license and everything. My mother finally transported this baby from Wyoming and it arrived a few days ago. I know it's small but, it's surprisingly comfy."

She climbed up into the cockpit in less than a minute and looked back at him with a grin. "You joining me or are you just gonna keep looking at me like that?"

This broke Nik out of his fear laced trance. "Oh, sorry. Just trying to keep from having a damn heart attack. How long have you been doing this exactly?"

Zelenia shrugged as she helped him inside and he begrudgingly strapped himself into one of the seats. "Since I was 17. As soon as I was old enough I started flying lessons and got a private license. And then starting the second year of my bachelor’s I received even more training. You’re in good hands Nik, I promise.”

She used the words carefully, that recent part of her past a mix of emotions tainted by the last year of it and she was just starting to feel okay. Still, it was something she wasn’t quite ready to discuss yet. 

Shaking the memories from her mind, she closed the plane doors and fastened herself in before going through all of the pre-flight procedures. When she was finished, she turned to Nik who was visibly trembling, his eyes darting everywhere in the small space. 

“Ready?” she asked, getting permission from Air Traffic Control to start the engines.

He responded with a grumble, trying to cover up the anxiety he felt. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Taking that as a yes, she deftly wheeled the Cessna down the tarmac and onto the correct runway. Once she got the all-clear, the plane rapidly picked up speed causing Nik behind her to grip the seat tightly. After a couple of minutes, the plane lifted off the ground. 

Nik continued to have a death grip on the seat back as his stomach climbed into his throat. “Holy Jesus!”

“Sorry, you get used to that eventually,” Zelenia said sheepishly while keeping her concentration on the controls.

No other words were exchanged as she continued to keep the plane steady the aircraft as it climbed higher in the sky. Eventually, they reached cruising altitude and she finally flattened it out. 

“How are you doing back there?” she asked after a beat, having to shout over the noise from the engine and propellers. 

“Well, I can still hear my heart beating out of my chest like a jackhammer,” he replied. But...”

Zelenia raised a hopeful eyebrow. “But...”

Nik let out a long sigh and his lips ever so slightly began to tilt upwards. “This actually isn’t that bad. I could get used to this.” He visibly began to relax too, his personality slowly coming back up to the surface. 

A victorious grin spread on her face. “Yes! I told you, Ryder. You should really listen to me more often you know. I tend to have amazing ideas.”

He responded with a scoff. “Um, that’s debatable, you have a track record of doing some idiotic things. Punching a ghost?”

“Hey, it worked didn’t it?” she countered. “At least the second time anyway.”  

Nik raised his eyebrows doubtfully. “Still not standard technique Rookie. But, we can agree to disagree on that,” he said before his gaze wandered to the scenery below. “Now this is a sweet view.”

“I know right? You can see everything from up here,” she agreed. 

The bird’s eye perspective they had was simply breathtaking, the image of the emerald green bayou intersecting with lines of shimmering blue. 

This state of tranquility was interrupted when Nik posed a question. “So, let me get this straight, you own this?”

“I do,” Zelenia confirmed. “She was given to me as a high school graduation present from my grandparents. My mom finally sent it from the house in Wyoming a couple of weeks ago and it arrived Monday.”

“She? Got a name for it too?” A throaty laugh erupted from his lips. 

Looking back at him for a split second, she scowled at him before returning her attention to the front. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And yes, her name is Amelia.”

“Of course it is.”

Zelenia immediately exclaimed, “Hey, she is an icon! It’s because of women like her and Bessy Coleman that I can do this.”

“I know who Amelia Earheart is Zelenia,” he quipped. “Just because I was homeschooled by Elijah doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

“Didn’t say you were,” she stated. 

After a minute, he suddenly became a touch more serious. “Well, thanks for dragging me out here Rookie. You were right, this was...surprisingly fun. I mean, I’m definitely not cured yet but, I wouldn’t say no to doing this again.”

Her smile returned. “No problem Nik. It’s actually a new experience for me too actually.”

“Hmm? How come?”

She shrugged, biting her lip as her thoughts turned inward like they typically did. “I almost always do this alone, up here, it’s kind of like my little refuge. Ever since I could do so, I’ve used this to escape from the pressure of people, the world. It’s the first place I felt like I belonged and getting my license was the first time, maybe even the only time my mother actually expressed that she was proud of me for something.”

“Zelenia...”

She shook her head. “That’s a topic for another day. My point is, sharing this with someone, with you. It...it means a lot.”

“Glad to know I’m not alone in this.”

Then, a mischevious smirk grew on her face. “Does this mean that I’ll get to show off my stunts someday?”

He shot that down in an instant. “Nope, not a chance Rookie.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, Ryder. You can just watch from on the ground then.”

She sighed blissfully, truly carefree for the first time in ages as they continued to get lost in their own little world up in the sky. 

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices july challenge #nightbound #nik x mc #nik ryder #nik x zelenia

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

Devotion

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3300

request: this has been done a few times but i really want ur take on it and a bitch loves angst and drama so uh. maybe reader/bucky are in a relationship but like its a secret and its in the early stage but Then bucky gets a little too close for comfort w somebody else and yeah. i feel corny as fuck for saying alla that but,,please (requested by anon)

summary: bucky barnes and y/n struggle to define the parameters of their relationship, especially when y/n sees him with another girl.

warnings: angst fluff and vague ass smut like bitch i aint never written smut b4 so LMFAO

a/n: i tried to make this as not-cheesy as possible, but i know that its still gonna be corny as fuck bc i love corny bucky shit! love u anon,, i hope you enjoy pls lemme know what u think!<3

my fics

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bucky glances at his watch before tugging you into the small room with him. You want to resist, but you can’t. You are putty in his hands. Each brush of his lips against your skin sets your nerves alight, warming you completely. His kisses are wet and feverish. Almost desperate. When his lips touch your neck your eyelids flutter shut, his metal fingertips are cool to the touch, they make you shiver.

“Bucky—” the half-hearted warning escapes your lips quietly.

“Y/N,” he murmurs in playful return, mimicking your tone. You can feel his smile growing.

“We have to get to the party…” your voice trails off when his hands come to hold your sides and his lips move to the sensitive skin beneath your ear. You like the feel of his beard scratching at your skin, the way his breath cools the places where his lips have been. “Buck, c’mon,” you start again, but his hand slides down to hook beneath your thigh and you instinctively wrap your leg around his hips. His cologne is intoxicating, but you breathe it in anyway, longing for it to fill your lungs. “We have to stop…” you say breathlessly, “They’re gonna notice if both of us are missing.”

But he doesn’t stop and you don’t want him to.

Your fingers fumble clumsily with the buttons of his shirt, crisp and white, you’d ironed it yourself.

He laughs and you feel it in your chest, as if it had been your own chuckle, your amusement, not his. It rings in your ears in a way that makes you wish you could hear it again and again. You grin broadly at him, and he grins back. All teeth, his blue eyes glint with each sinful thought that crosses his mind. He is so beautiful.

“The things I wanna do to you, doll,” he muses.

You hastily push the fabric away from his shoulders, hands on his bare skin. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d already unzipped the side of your dress, but then he lets go of your thigh to draw the straps from your shoulders and let the jewel toned gown fall to the floor in a pool of rich fabric.

“I could have just pulled the dress up,” your words are sound slurred together, they interrupt the clash of lips, teeth, and tongue.

Bucky shakes his head and he’s breathless, pulling both of your legs around his waist. The wall’s surface is cool against your bare back.  “I want to feel you.”

And he does.

His hands touch every inch of your body, holding you close as you pant out his name. Your fingers get entangled in the waves of chestnut brown (ruining the neat bun that had been knotted at the nape of his neck). Bucky tucks his face into the crook of your neck, his grunts send chills up and down the length your spine. His teeth graze your collarbone when you tug at his hair, his hands clutch at the backs of your thighs.

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses quietly.

Your fingertips dig into his shoulders, you tilt your head back and it bumps against the wall. You don’t care enough to think about, too engrossed by the rush of excitement pooling inside of you. But then Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, his thumb drags down across your lips and he meets your longing gaze. You wind your arms around his neck, little space between your faces. You inhale and exhale the same air, parted lips almost close enough to touch. He says your name, quietly, he breathes it. Your breath nearly catches in your throat. There’s a crease between his brows and his lower lip is caught between his teeth. His hands hold you tightly, as if he’s afraid you might slip from his grasp at any moment.

His movements grow quicker and less precise. “Y/N,” he pants when your noses touch, his eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are dark against his flushed cheeks. You will yourself to keep yours open, but you can’t. Bucky moans and the tightly wound coil that had formed in the pit of your stomach finally snaps. The snap of his hips grows more sloppy with each moment, he finds his release in time with yours.

The sound of your name on his lips is a whisper that’s barely there, just a wispy exhale of air, but he says it all the same. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…Again and again and again. It sends chills down your spine, you hold him closer.

He kisses you on your lips, wet and painfully slow. His hips adopt a languid pace, you struggle to catch your breath, so does he. He gleams with a thin sheen of sweat. He’s the most handsome creature you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“Bucky.”

He kisses your neck, right back at where he started.

You buttoned up his shirt and he zipped up your dress. You combed your fingers through his hair and pulled it into a low knot. A warm, comfortable silence blooms. He touches your cheek with gentle fingertips as you wiped the traces of your lipstick from his skin.

“What?” you asked, with a raised brow. There was something anticipatory in his lingering gaze. “I’m irresistible, huh doll?”

When you rolled your eyes he laughed. Childish, but good-natured as always, yet there was still something his was withholding.

“What?” you ask again, playfully impatient.

You see his jaw clench and he exhales loudly through his nose, his expression growing thoughtful, but only for a split second.

“Nothing,” he says too quickly. He glances down at his watch and grins crookedly, “Just think, doll, if I can do that to you in under ten minutes, think about what we could do with thirty...or an hour...or a whole night.”

Bucky speaks with a manner that seems nonchalant, but part of you knows that he’s rather serious. You know the implications of such a charged suggestion: How serious is this? We both know we aren’t ‘just friends’, why keep it a secret?

But you weren’t ready to answer the unspoken questions, so you just smile and smooth out the wrinkles in his white shirt, hoping he hadn’t caught a whiff of your apprehension.

Bucky leaves the comfort of the cramped janitor’s closet (the spot for all of your most recent trysts) first. He had told you it was better that your arrival times were staggered, rather than arriving together. He glances down at his watch, he only had about ten minutes before she arrived.

Before turning down the hall towards the ballroom he turns his head to look at you, but you’ve already shut the door. He walks to the ballroom alone, flushed in the face. While he stands outside and waits he thinks about the way you clutched onto him and that moment when he’d peered into your eyes. Those innocent, heavy lidded eyes, caught in the midst of ecstasy. The taste of you was stuck on his mouth like beer on the lips of an alcoholic.

You leave the closet almost immediately after Bucky because the air still is charged with an odd, indescribable tension and you can still smell his cologne in the cramped space. You slip away and spend time in a the mirror, adjusting your hair and fixing your makeup. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you smiled, though you weren’t exactly sure why. You leaned forward and looked closely at your neck and collarbones. No marks, you had sternly told him. And though he often liked to annoy you by placing a hickey at the base of your neck or at the spot near your jaw, beneath the ear, he hadn’t tonight. Your own fingertips ghosted across your neck. It felt hot still, as if his lips had only been there seconds ago.

You wait an even thirty minutes before you head to the party.

“Fashionably late as always, huh?”

It’s Steve approaches you with a good-natured smile and two champagne flutes in hand.

“That’s the only reason to ever be late to anything,” you lie, accepting on of the glasses with an appreciative smile.

He laughs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, you look great. You all alone tonight?”

You nod. “Why? Need a wingman?”

This makes him laugh.

When you see Bucky again it’s about an hour into the party. You spent time sipping at champagne and making small talk with a few friends, making rounds with Steve (who was also dateless), but all the while you had been scanning the large room for him. You didn’t know what for, you were both rather hesitant to seem too chummy in a public setting like this, but there was something about him tonight that had made you want more. You wanted more of him, even if that meant faking a strictly friendly friendship. You suspected he wanted more of you too. It went beyond his vague suggestion of spending more time together. You had heard it in his call of your name, seen it in the stain of your lipstick on his cheek, felt it with the touch of his thumb to your swollen lips.

You feel him before you see him. He bumps into you by pure coincidence and his hand shoots out to hold your elbow, steadying you.

“Oh, Y/N...sorry about that.” When he smiles it seems odd and half-hearted, but you ignore it. Instead you find yourself focusing on the sudden lump in your throat and your urge to kiss him again and again.

“I was actually looking for you, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh yeah, doll? What’s that?” He was distracted, eyes flitting from you to someplace above your head, someplace behind you. Still, it didn’t seem to register.

“Earlier you said something and I just think that—”

You didn’t know her, a pretty girl with eyes like smokey quartz. Her lipstick was a shade of pink and made her face look washed out. Yours was a shade of red that complimented the glow of your skin tone. You don’t feel embarrassed when her eyes meet yours or when she brushes past you, stopping you mid-sentence, to loop her arm through Bucky’s as if they’re some sort of buy-one-get-one pairing. She kisses his cheek. Her lipstick doesn’t stain him like yours did. You don’t smile or frown, something in you deflates.

“Oh, are you on a date?” you ask Bucky, slowly shifting your gaze from her to him. Your disappointment is apparent in your tone, though you tried desperately to hide it.

He doesn’t sputter for words or fumble for an excuse. He never does. “Yes.”

You nod because you don’t have a right to be angry. You walk away because there’s nothing left for you to say.

Behind you, you think you hear the girl asking, “What was that about?”

That night he is at your door, you know it’s him because of the (unnecessarily) distinctive knock. Two solid raps, brief pause, two, pause, two, then silence. A heartbeat at your door.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

When you open the door he’s leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in his white shirt and dress pants. He looks surprised when the door swings open, then relieved. You wished you didn’t feel anything when you looked at him.

“What’s up, Buck?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t act like this.”

“Like what?”

He sighs, and a quiet settles. Most everything he says is so calculated, picked with care, searching for the most concise way to say what needs to be said. He never struggled to speak, but always took his time in doing so. He never seemed lost, he was always in control. He’d never been one for drawn out conversations, especially when it came to the prospects of your relationship with one another. You were friends first and foremost, you both knew that. Keeping the relationship a secret was the logical thing to do. Friends would treat you the same instead of seeing you as a pair, it would allow the two of you to privately define whatever it was you had. Up until recently the secrecy and the games seemed to work well. It had all been fairly straightforward: he feared commitment, you swore up and down you didn’t want anything too serious with him. You didn’t know you had been lying until tonight.

“Like you aren’t bothered,” he finally says.

The air between you grows taut. You lift and release your brows.

“I don’t have a right to be bothered.”

Respecting the agreement.

“Right…” he says, lips curling into a coy smile, “but you are.”

Silence.

“You were mad at the party, you’re mad now.”

“I’m not mad, Bucky. It’s just—”

“Just what?” He’s leaning forward, arm still on the door frame. He is poison. He thinks this is a game.

“Tonight,” you begin, hating the way he makes you feel, “you—It felt different.” There is a lump in your throat. “It was different and then...and I wanted to tell you, but then I show up and look for you the whole night and turns out, you’re with some girl.” Your bring your eyes up to his and a heat flares in your chest,  realization creeping up on you like a cruel shadow. “Is that why you kept looking at your fucking watch?”

You see his jaw tense. He swallows hard. Suddenly he’s serious...and for some reason that makes you angrier.

“Fuck, it makes so much more sense now,” you’re speaking more to yourself than to him at this point. “God, Bucky,” your cheeks puff with the air you exhale through your mouth. “I’m so stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid.”

“Yes, I am, because I actually thought I felt something with you tonight!”

He sends you a warning look: Keep it down. You hadn’t even realized how loud you’d gotten, voice echoing in the hallway. When he pushes past you through your door you don’t stop him, you keep talking.

“Something really—something real! And I was going to tell you that.” You send your gaze to the ceiling in exasperation. “I was going to tell you, can you believe that?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because of that fucking girl, Buck.” You pace the floor, you don’t want to look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. “You knew what the fuck you were doing, you planned this.”

He tries to interject, but there’s no stopping you.

“No, no, you did. I know you did. That fucking watch,” you point to the device on his wrist, “you had this night all scheduled out, huh? Sleep with Y/N, she’s a quick fuck, then get to my real date at the party. That’s fucked up.”

With eyes narrowed: “I didn’t plan things to turn out this way.”

“So she showed up on her own then?”

He shakes his head, this is the first time you ever see him with his lips parted, clumsily searching for the right words to string together. That’s not what I meant.

“Right,” you mockingly quip, looking him in his eye. “You don’t get to do this to me.”

“I’m giving you exactly what you wanted!” The volume of his voice catches you off guard, his face goes hard. “This is what you asked for, you wanted something secret, something quiet, and I’ve given that to you. You wanted this, not me,” he is suddenly seething, hands spread wide and out at his sides. He looks to you with darkened eyes, they seem to hold the vast tumult of the sea. His gaze is frigid. Icy waters.

“Well then...what do you want?” You question venomously, interrupting the weighty silence.

He could have crossed the room to stand close to you, but he keeps his distance. He watches you pace. He watches you watch him.

“I want to be with you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He shakes his head, face screwed up in disbelief. “You’re the one that didn’t want anything serious!”

“You’re the one that ‘can’t handle commitment’!” You throw finger quotes in his face, he fights the urge to take you by the throat and kiss you until you can’t breathe.

“I have tried to tell you that I want more, but you just fucking brush it off or pretend like you didn’t hear me, when I know that you do. Like tonight. Tonight I didn’t even mean to hint at it, but I did, and what did you do? You fucking ignored it like you do with everything else!”

“I can’t take you seriously, you treat everything like some stupid joke!”

Bucky stares at you open-mouthed and in disbelief, but you know he won’t deny you because you both know that you’re right.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he reiterates.

“The watch—”

“Jesus Christ, the watch, the watch, the fucking watch, who gives a fuck about the watch, Y/N?” As he speaks he’s taking the watch off. He holds it by the black leather strap and looks at it as if it disgusts him. “Look, I brought the girl, but it was only because Steve introduced me to her a few days ago. People keep asking about you and me, and it’s so fucking annoying, and I know how badly you wanted to keep this—” he points between the two of you with his forefinger, he’s exasperated, “—a secret! So I invited her, but I told her to come an hour after the party actually starts because I knew I was going to be with you. I wanted to be with you. It just looked good if I walked into the party with her. That’s it. That’s all.”

Bucky stands in front of you with a face that’s open and expected. Lips slightly parted, eyes wide and watchful. The silence swallows you whole.

He had helped you pick your dress before the party (Wow, pretty lady, hot date tonight?). You ironed his shirt, hung it up and kept it crisp. You left late, too caught up in one another to recall the time.  He insisted on walking together, but promised to keep a good amount of space between you. If anyone saw it would look strictly platonic. Then he grabbed you by your wrist and tugged you into that goddamn closet despite your half-hearted protests.

We don’t have a lot of time, Buck. We’re already late.

I don’t need much, doll.

“I didn’t think that you’d decide tonight that you wanted something serious,” he admits quietly. When he sighs his shoulders move up towards his ears, then rela again. Half of his mouth quirks upwards crookedly. “Hell, if I knew that, I never would have brought the girl. We wouldn’t have even gone to that stupid party, we would’ve been too busy...doing other things.”

Suddenly you are aware of the heart beating your chest and the warmth of the room. A heat creeps up your entire body, your fingertips seem to buzz. You cross the room, meeting him where he stands.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

He whispers your name quietly, a repetitive sound on his lips. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

You want to hear it again and again and again.

Two hands, one warm, the other cool, rest on either side of your face and you smile. “I want you.” Secret or no secret. “I just want you.”

Bucky kisses you until you feel lightheaded. He kisses you until you’re dizzy and your legs feel wobbly and you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. He touches you with hands spread wide, he wants to feel every part of you. He burns your skin with his hot kisses, a trail of marks left to show where he’s been. You breathe him in until he’s invaded your system, you breathe him in until your lungs are filled to the brim.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

[spopz]

hm. here's some kl

hey folks now that we’ve all said fuck canon and fuck s8 i decided to compile a couple of my fav klance fics for some better vibes! i’m including some classics so that i can Stress how Good they will make you feel, and some which are ones i don’t think i’ve seen recced too often but they’re def good quality! without further ado here we go :) putting most of them under the cut for the sake of length

✫ just come to me once by laallomri

Lance’s smile widens. He leans forward, and the prickling in Keith’s chest gives way to butterflies, fluttering wildly in his stomach, and oh wow has Lance always had this many freckles, has he always had eyelashes that long, has he—

Lance pokes his cheek, right over the Galra mark. Keith blinks.

“I can’t believe you and your mom have matching face tattoos now,” he says, and it’s so fucking dumb, but it’s exactly the kind of dumb thing Keith has longed to hear, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s surging forward, almost knocking Lance back against Red’s paw, and throwing his arms around him.

In which Keith lives on a space whale, goes on a road trip, and (eventually) gets a boyfriend.

[i have no doubt that this is already a classic or at least will be considered one soon enough, but it was finished recently and i can personally vouch for the softness, sweetness, and quality of this fic and the WRITER!! it’s just such a great feel-good piece and wonderfully written. 10/10 made me cry out of pure joy]

✫ speak for the stars by speaks

All Lance has ever wanted is to prove his worth. So, maybe it’s fitting that the Black Lion picked him right when Lotor betrayed them and Shiro’s clone went rogue. Right when the team was at its lowest and closest to failing.

The desire for glory that Lance grew up with—that drove him to join the Garrison and pursue fighter class, that drove him into his one-sided rivalry with Keith, that drove him after Keith in the Sonoran Desert and into Blue’s cockpit and into space and into the war in the first place—it’s a relic of the past for him now. All he wants these days is to keep his friends alive and the Coalition afloat, and he tries his best, despite the pervasive fear that he isn’t the right person for this monumental task. Despite the growing certainty that Black picked the wrong guy.

This fear will be put to the ultimate test when the mess that ensnares the team after the clone disaster turns out to be a labyrinth more winding than any of them were prepared for. Because Lance might just be the only person equipped to lead them through this maze and into the light.

[this fic. THIS FIC. if you were rightfully disappointed by the way characters were treated, especially in the later seasons, then PLEASE read this. everyone is done so much justice and the writing is top notch. had scenes and lines that just... took my breath away. also the writer has some excellent other fics too, which if you haven’t already read then you def should!]

✫ hey, mom, i met a boy by mothpoem

“Sweetheart,” says Lance, his hair longer, his shoulders broader, the slope of his nose uneven now where it didn’t used to be, “you don’t know the half of it.”

[i wish i was kidding but just reading the description alone invokes so much emotion in me?? my throat closed up just typing this ohhh my god every time i reread this— probably three times already bc i don’t want to wear it out— i absolutely lose my shit. teary smiles, the works. i will never shut up about this fic or this author. please read it]

✫ colours and planes, laser guns and champagne by skelebro

Shiro invites Hunk and Lance to his roleplaying campaign, and it's all fun and games except for how Lance is constantly on the verge of fighting the team warrior in real life.

[okay this one is 2016 era and it’s also a lot shorter but i read it and was like woah! you know. felt good. felt organic :) simple and fun and sweet]

✫ eternity (was in our lips and eyes) by thespacenico

Lance feels like he’s on the cusp of a life-changing revelation.

“I told him not to tell you.”

And this time, Keith doesn’t seem to have trouble asking the unavoidable question: “Why?”

Lance looks at Keith, and everything falls into place.

A life-changing, mind-blowing, head-splitting, earth-shattering revelation.

[okay this fic did me in it’s just really God Damn Good. also while i’m on the topic the author is writing an INSANELY cute klancemas series featuring the whole squad and if you want those soft holiday feels i’d highly recommend that too]

✫ you are the moon that breaks the night by talking_bird

"He looks up then and stares the beast right in the eyes—right in Lance’s eyes. Because in all the terror and fleeing, Keith forgot that part, that somewhere, underneath all that fur and teeth is Lance. Lance."

The simple truth is that Keith Kogane is in love with his childhood best friend, Lance McClain. It's a simple truth he plans to keep locked away until the day he dies, but that was before Lance survived a grisly animal attack. Now, a month later, Keith is resolved to confess.

But the full moon has other plans for them...

[admittedly i haven’t read this one yet but i’ve already heard good things and the tags themselves are just... Hell Yeah... i’ll probs update this w/ my personal thoughts but i’m super excited!! EDIT: IT WAS V GOOD!!!]

✫ it’s you that’s haunting me by perfchan

Keith is a loner; his interactions with others tend toward clumsy or strained, but he has a persistent enthusiasm for the paranormal. Lance is a recent college grad; caught up in his day-to-day, he wouldn’t call himself unhappy, but suddenly feels that his life lacks direction. When Lance is introduced to Keith’s ghost hunting videos, his interest is piqued and he can’t help but want to tag along. Initially opposed, Keith soon finds himself warming to the company of the living.

A little tongue-in-cheek, a little cliché, and a little bit of a slow burn. A not-too-serious ghost hunting AU.

[okay i’m so bad w/ anything paranormal but this was SO good and cute pls read]

✫ the expiation expedition by intelligentairhead, obstinaterixatrix

Lance is well aware that miscommunications can result in horrific, preferably avoidable mishaps, which is why he tries to circumvent them whenever possible.

It just figures that the state of an entire planet's fragile political climate rests on him running straight into one.

[okokokok i don’t see this one on many lists but it SHOULD be it’s got fake dating! lesbian aliens! politics! it’s really good i have to reread it soon ALSO check out both the writers!!]

#klance #klance fics #fic recs #voltron #vld #i have more classics/other lmk if you want recs! #also was gonna add a cute adashi one but decided 2 keep it kl focused #if u want that one tho i'll link it its p good :') #fics

[pixeltownies]

simself tag I was tagged by @fussysim I tag any of my followers that want to do this

take a shot every time I say “my boyfriend”

traits: goofball, foodie, clumsy aspiration: friend of the world 1. What is your full name? tristan egbert 2.What is your nickname? tris/tj 3. Birthday?‪ december 14‬ 4. What is your favorite book series?  I don’t,. really read that often 5. Do you believe in Aliens or Ghosts? Y E S 6. Who is your favorite author? once again I really don’t read 7. What is your favorite radio station? pop + alt 8. What is your favorite flavor of anything? mango, fruit punch, etc etc, I like fruity things 9. What word would you use to describe something great or wonderful? “holy shit!” 10. What is your current favorite song? I have too many favs at all times for this 11. What is your favorite word? curse words lots of curse words 12. What is the last song you listened to? self esteem - the offspring 13. What TV show would you recommend for everyone to watch? ‪jane the virgin, how I met your mother, izombie, Gotham, hmu for more recs ‬ 14. What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? marvel movies + childhood movies 15. Do you play video games? mostly sims, I have others but I don’t have the accessibility to play them hh 16. What is your biggest fear? being alone 17. What is your best quality in your opinion? I’m good at listening and I’m a big people pleaser 18. What is your worst quality in your opinion? how lazy I am and how quickly I get peeved/angry 19. Do you like cats or dogs better? cats! 20. What is your favorite season? autumn 21. Are you in a relationship? yes :D 22. What is something you miss from your childhood? not much if I’m being honest 23. Who is your best friend? my boyfriend 24. What is your eye color? yellow, red, forest green and royal blue 25. What is your hair color? split pink & black but naturally dirty blonde 26. Who is someone you love? my mom + dad & my boyfriend & my siblings 27. Who is someone you trust? my boyfriend 28. Who is someone you think about Often? m y b o y f r I e n d 29. Are you currently excited about/for something? starting testosterone :) + meeting my boyfriend next year 30. What is your biggest obsession? uHh. cc, sims, Netflix, marvel, my boyfriend 31. what was your favorite tv show as a child? hannah montana, icarly, victorious, sam and cat, there are so many more but I’m absolutely blanking rn 32. Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to? I don’t really have many friends that are girls .. oops? 33. Are you superstitious? 50/50 34. Do you have any unusual phobias? none that I can really think of 35. Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? kind of both 36. What is your favorite hobby? PHOTOGRAPHYYYYY 37. What is the last book you read? i. don’t. read. 38. What is the last movie you watched? fantastic beasts with my boyfriend and his best friends 39. What musical Instruments do you play, if any? I am trying to learn guitar but I have ADHD/ADD and I have a hard time self-teaching 40. What is your favorite animal? panda, red pandas, fox, raccoon, turtle, cats. 41. What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? I just started out. pls. 42. What superpower do you wish you had? I just wish I wasn’t this dumb ((I’m keeping ur answer, I’m wheezing)) 43. When and where do you feel most at peace? when I’m on the phone with my boyfriend 44. What makes you smile? my boyfriend, sims, music, photography 45. What sports do you play, if any? none 46. What is your favorite drink? monster mango loco + pacific punch 47. When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? recently I keep a journal of notes to my boyfriend 48: Are you afraid of heights? y e s 49: What is your biggest pet peeve? misophonia, look it up 50. Have you ever been to a concert? yeah 51. Are you vegan/ vegetarian? no, I honestly don’t have the motivation or willpower to do it but when I move in with my boyfriend that’s gonna stop HDHBD 52. When you were little, what did you wanna be when you grew up? cosmetologist/ photographer 53: What fictional world would you like to live in? I can’t think of the name but the place in guardians of the galaxy 54. What is something you worry about? being alone, dying, people not liking me, embarrassing myself. 55. Are you scared of the dark? no, and yes 56. Do you like to sing? yes but I’m not good at it 57. Have you ever skipped school? I dropped out bc of it so yes 58. What is your favorite place on the planet? anywhere my boyfriend is 59. Where would you like to live? U.K. 60. Do you have any pets? 5 cats 61: Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? night owl 62: Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? sunset 63. Do you know how to drive? yes but I don’t have driving license oops 64. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? earbuds 65. Have you ever had braces? no, but I need them 66: What is your favorite genre of music? pop punk + indie + pop + basically anything but country, folk, classic dhsjsj shit like that ion like 67: Who is your hero? I don’t think I necessarily have one? 68: Do you read comic books? yes 69: What makes you most angry? misophonia, being blamed for things I didn’t do, not being listened to, being undermined, etc things of the sort 70. Do you prefer reading a book on an electronic device or on a real book? both tbh 71. What is your favorite subject in school? art 72. Do you have any siblings? 10 73. What was the last thing you bought? I can’t remember   74. How tall are you? 5 foot 4 75. Can you cook? not exactly 76. What are three things that you love? boyfriend, music, my cats 77. What are three things you hate? anxiety, fear, abandonment 78. Do you have more male or female friends? male 79. What is your sexual orientation? homosexual but panromantic 80. Where do you currently live? united states /: 81. Who was the last person you texted? my boyfriend 82. When was the last time you cried? idk!!! 83. Who is your favorite youtuber? jacksepticeye 84. Do you like to take selfies? yes I am very insecure but also very vain ((god we are the same person)) 85. What is your favorite app? twitter 86. What is your relationship to your parent(s)?  kind of don’t like necessarily like them but I don’t hate them 87. What is your favorite foreign accent? British accents but this is biased bc of my boyfriend 88. What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? japan 89. What is your favorite number? 14 90. Can you juggle? nope 91. Are you religious? I don’t.. know… 92. Do you find outer space or the deep ocean to be more interesting? outer space, ocean scares tf out of me ((keeping this too)) 93. Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? impulsive but not daredevil 94. Are you allergic to anything? freshly cut grass tbh 95. Can you curl your tongue? no 96. Can you wiggle your ears? no 97. How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? normally when it happens if I catch on, if I didn’t realize I was wrong I admit when it’s pointed out 98. Do you prefer the forest or the beach? forest 99. What is your favorite piece of advice anyone has given you? uh I haven’t really gotten any 100. Are you a good liar? unfortunately yes 101. What is your Hogwarts house? hufflepuff 102. Do you talk to yourself? when I’m pissed 103. Are you an introvert or an extrovert? introvert 104. Do you keep a journal/diary? yes but they’re more like love notes to my boyfriend 105. Do you believe in second chances? yes and I give more than that bc I’m weak and too nice for existence 106: If you found a wallet full of money, what would you do? …. id be lying if I said I’d turn it in right away, I would have to contemplate that 107. Do you believe that people are capable of change? yes but only with help 108. Are you ticklish? yes 109. Have you ever been on a plane? nope, will be next year 110. Do you have any piercings? eyebrow, labret, septum, tongue, my ears are stretched, and I have more piercings planned 111. What fictional character do you wish were real? … uhhHhh I’m blanking 112. Do you have any tattoos? I have an XØ and a fiatp symbol on my left wrist 113. What is the best decision you’ve made in your life? following my boyfriend back when he followed me, to begin with 114. Do you believe in karma? yes for sure 115. Do you wear glasses or contacts? glasses 116. Do you want children? 2-3, I’m adopting though 117. Who is the smartest person you know? my boyfriend 118. What is your most embarrassing memory? I have many 119. Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? all the time 120. What color are most of your clothes? black or my fav colors 121. Do you like adventure? YES 122. Have you ever been on TV? nope 123. How old are you? 19!! 124. What is your favorite quote? If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. 125. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? savory (and spicy!!!!!!)

#simself #about #non gameplay #my edit

[shiirojasmine]

In the Cave

so after much badgering from @ashethehedgehog, i’ve been bullied into writing out the beginning of 3 gods au. that being said, it’s JUST the beginning that’ll be in fic form, bc pffft, the whole thing is way too long. each lifetime might as well be a full-length novel and man, thesis is kicking my ass as it is. but um, hey, enjoy.

warnings: mentioned major character death, a little non-consensual touching (yami being an incredibly huge creep)

The mouth of the cave is wide, yawned open, and not for the first time, Atem is unsure as he steps inside. A few more steps in, and he is swallowed by the dark. His feet make no sound. He leans against the wall, rocky surface under his hand cold and damp, and the farther in he goes, slimy.

There's no light except the glow of his skin, sputtering with every step forward. He's never seen his light dim like this before. It's… disconcerting.

A god shouldn’t be bothered by cold or heat, but Atem finds himself wanting to blow warmth back into his freezing palms, the way he’s watched Yuugi done so before during the snowy winters in his village.

Yuugi. Yuugi Yuugi Yuugi. Yuugi, who is three days dead, whose body he placed into the earth himself before coming here.

Atem thinks of his smile, the color of his eyes, the way his small hand felt wrapped around his own.

He plods on.

He yelps as he trips, scraping his hand on the wall as he catches himself. He’s wet up to the knees in running water, rushing seemingly out of nowhere. He shivers, suddenly struck by the desire to turn back. But he’s made it so far already, he can feel it. Somehow.

The chasm of the cave is deeper than he thought it’d be. He’s not sure how long he’s been walking, only that his feet have started to ache (but gods should not ache, or hunger, or want to disappear when their loved ones depart from the living) and the wound on his hand has yet to heal.

Even so, he forges on. He can’t stop, not here. Not until he reaches the very end and at least meets the god of death himself face to face.

Yuugi deserves that much.

Another few feet, or miles in, he can’t help but wonder if he might not be stuck, forever doomed to wander the caves of the underworld. Oh, Yuugi. He’s so sorry. He knows that Yuugi never would’ve wanted this for him, lost and miserable, attempting to overturn world order just for one little human--

Wait.

Atem can feel…. Something. He’s not sure what. But there’s a tangible difference in the very air, an echo of energy in the distance.

He drags the hem of his robes out of the water and hurries toward it. The wall under his hand grows colder, viscous with thick slime, but he doesn’t dare take his hand off it, not when it’s so dark and empty and he’s all alone.

The craggy rock gives way to smooth, carved stone. He blinks in surprise, rubbing the surface of the wall just to be certain that he’s not just - hallucinating, that after all these secondshoursdays, that he has finally made progress.

And then a voice rings out, shaking the water and vibrating his very bones.

Why are you here.

What do you want.

Softer, but still so very cold, the voice slithers against the shell of his ear.

What do you seek.

Atem inhales sharply, clenching his fists to keep himself from shaking. He refuses to tremble like some coward. He won’t do it.

He tries to speak, closing his eyes briefly when sound refuses to leave his throat. Then he starts again. “I seek - I seek a favor.”

There’s a long pause, long enough that Atem is afraid that the god of death - because who else could it possibly be? - has lost interest and decided to leave him to rot, but then the voice is back, a touch warier.

A favor? In the belly of the cave, the god of death pauses in the middle of a game of chess, lifting his head in interest. He can’t see whoever it is that has entered his domain, but the essence of another god is unmistakable.

He toys with a pawn in his hand as he waits for his opponent - one of his beloved shadows - to make its move. He sighs to himself, and then shivers as he accidentally breathes the air in. The smell and taste of the other god is… heady. He takes in a deeper breath, eager. What sort of favor, he asks, and he almost doesn’t catch the answer.

“I seek… eternity.”

The god of death contemplates this. You smell like a god. You already have eternity.

Atem shifts restlessly in place. “Yes but, it’s not for me. It’s for my love - the other half of my soul. I… I seek it for him and with him.”

There’s a scoff, but Atem could’ve just as easily imagined it. And? the god of death says flatly, boredom coloring his voice.

Atem’s hands clench tighter as he stares ahead into the darkness.

“‘And?’” he repeats. “I’m - sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

And, the god of death says, almost mocking, and what will you trade? You do not get something for nothing, godling.

“I don’t know,” Atem whispers. “I’m just a minor god. What would you want from a nobody like me?”

Out of sight, the god of death taps his chin in contemplation. Perhaps - he extends out a shadow in curiosity, ghosting over the planes of an elegant nose, a smooth jaw, high cheekbones and a lush, if trembling, mouth.

He flicks his tongue over his bottom lip. The godling is… attractive.

He feels a little further down, tracing the jumping beat in the godling’s neck, over a smooth collarbone, down supple arms, the sweet curve of ribs, and the gentle dip of a waist.

Atem has stopped breathing as whatever it is that’s touching him caresses and squeezes his thighs. He swallows down the beginnings of a scream, shivering as it lingers over his skin. When it slithers up his ankle, he flinches, snatching his foot away.

Then it latches around his arms, pulling him off-balance. He stumbles, then falls as it rushes him forward through the water and dry earth, pebbles sent skittering from his useless heels. He gasps when he comes to sudden stop, shakes for a moment, and then scrambles, desperately trying to shove the vice-like grips off his arms. They only curl painfully tighter in response, trapping him in place as he notices the edge of a black robe fill his vision.

Atem slowly lifts his eyes from the hem up the expanse of darkness, until he meets an eyeless gaze.

He stills as a pair of voids stares back at him, unblinking. The face they’re set in is large and white, like bones that have been left exposed to an unforgiving sun, resting atop a sharp nose and a cruel mouth. At the edges of Atem’s vision, he can see shadows surrounding the being’s body, but whether they’re emanating from it or being sucked into it, he can’t tell.

Atem swallows hard. Struggles to breathe when he feels it reach out to lift his chin with a long, spidery finger.

“What will you trade, godling,” the god of death says, as smooth as silk running over a knife’s edge, “for this favor of yours.” There is no light in his eyes. That, more than anything, makes Atem afraid.

Atem’s breath catches in his throat. “A-anything,” he stutters.

The grip around his chin tightens. “Speak up.”

Tears prick at the corners of Atem’s eyes and he looks away, hating this, hating himself. “Anything.”

The god of death smiles.

He traces over the godling’s bottom lip, listening to the quick intakes of panicked breaths before chuckling to himself. He already knows what he wants to ask for, is already imagining pressing this godling into his bed for the night, filling him up, but - he has to know. Needs to see what soul could be so special, worth journeying so far to face him, he who is lord and king of death.

He lets his hand fall away from the godling’s chin, pulling him over to where the shadows melt away to reveal a shallow, giant bowl, and a tall jug beside it. He lifts the jug, pouring water into the depths of the bowl. The liquid shifts and swirls, rippling from black to silver.

“Touch the water, godling,” he intones as his shadows bring the godling closer. “Show  me your human.”

Atem stumbles as the shadows release him. He glances between the god of death, who towers over him even when kneeling, and the water, gulping as he hesitates, hand hovering over the water before he dips a single finger in.

The water churns, roiling in on itself, glowing brighter and brighter until it smoothes out, revealing--

Yuugi.

Or, his soul. The image of it floats serenely in the water. It knows nothing, remembers nothing, awaiting only rebirth. It does not know Atem.

Still, Atem can’t help but lean forward in yearning, tears slipping out without his notice. But the god of death pulls his arm back.

“Is this… truly the soul you speak of?” The god of death’s voice is hushed in wonder. “He loved you as you loved him?”

Atem nods, eyes glued to the water. The god of death stares at the soul as well, speechless. He’s never seen any as beautiful as this one, radiating with warmth and gentleness. Something twists deep down in his chest, tight and sickening. Jealousy, perhaps. He doesn’t know. He’s never been jealous of anything before.

The arm in his hand is struggling to touch the water, the godling sobbing and begging that he’ll do anything, just please, let him have his love again, let them be together, surely the god of death could overlook one human soul?

“You must share.”

Atem stops mid word, staring blankly ahead. What? He - he couldn’t have heard right.

The god of death’s own fingers join his at the surface of the pool. Atem shudders as they leech the heat off him without even touching. “This soul,” the god of death says. “You must let me have him.”

Atem’s eyes widen. “How would that even work?” he whispers, unable to bring himself to look back at the god of death. Surely, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to split Yuugi’s soul in two? Atem… he needs all of Yuugi. Yuugi must be whole.

It’s quiet for a moment as the god of death looks down at the water, and then at the godling in his grip. Watches as he shivers, misery rolling off him as the tears freely drip into his lap.

And then the god of death decides. “A lifetime,” he says eventually. “You’ll get him for a lifetime. And then… he’ll be mine. At the end of his second lifetime, I’ll let him return to you for his third. We will trade him back and forth - for eternity, as you wished.”

Atem looks at him in disbelief. That’s not - it isn’t what he wanted at all. He opens his mouth to protest, and then yelps as something cold slithers around his legs. The shadows, he realizes, as he tries to shake them off.

The god of death swipes them away. “Shoo. That isn’t part of the deal anymore,” he chides. His shadows sulk away, chittering in disappointment that they can’t touch the pretty little godling that’s wandered in.

“What’s not part of the deal anymore?” Atem asks warily, wiping the tears from his face. But the god of death snaps that it’s none of his concern, only to stretch out his hand in expectancy, the long fingers uncurling towards Atem.

“Now,” the god of death says. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

Atem stares at the hand. It’s bony, the nails sharp, skin pitch black from tip to elbow. Like the eyes of the god of death, they too seem to suck the light from around them.

A sickening feeling drops low in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that he can’t not take it. Can’t just leave after coming all this way. Does he even really have a choice? Even if he wants to leave, decided that he could bear never seeing Yuugi again for the rest of his existence, would the god of death truly allow him to after meeting with him in such a place?

No, Atem thinks, staring at the god of death, whose eyes are dark and hungry and empty, yet reflect nothing. He wouldn’t.

He hesitates, and then drops his hand into the god of death’s palm. He knows that with this, the contract will be sealed. That he’ll be forever bound by their terms unless they both agree to amend it.

He gasps as surge of energy rips through him, shaking his very core before it dissipates. He wobbles on his feet, eyes bleary with dizziness. The fingers around his tighten, keeping him from falling to his knees.

“What was that?” he moans. His head is pounding. The air weighs down on him, thick and heavy, the whispers of the shadows too loud and too much.

“You’ll see,” he hears the god of death answer.

Atem opens his eyes weakly - when did he even close them? - and sees the god of death looking at him with something akin to amusement. He seems - bigger, somehow. Atem frowns and looks down at their linked hands. Notes that his own seems smaller, too. Did he… shrink?

Without letting go of their hands, the god of death leans down, his breath drifting over Atem’s ear as he speaks. “Your lover awaits. Are you ready to surrender your godhood and hold him again?”

The knot in Atem’s shoulders loosen. That might be the only thing he’d been ready for this whole time. He nods, and the god of death smiles, feral.

“Then you must die now,” the god of death says, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. Atem blanches, jerking his arm back to no avail, but then the god of death’s fingers are at his forehead, and he knows no more.

The godling, now human, falls. The god of death catches the body easily, appraising it for awhile. It’s so small and fragile, still warm. He drags a finger down the side of its smooth face. Beautiful.

The shadows gather back around him, fluttering over the body. They think they should’ve been able to touch the godling at least once, before he’d been killed. The god of death ignores them, waving a pyre into existence.

He steps forward, setting the body down onto it, and with a snap of his fingers, the body is engulfed in flames. He can’t help but watch as the flames spark, unable to think of anything else but the deal he’d just made. Thoughts of what could have been and what will come whirling round and round in his head.

He turns away, walking back to the bowl of water. Looks upon the perfect human soul, and just, waits. No doubt the godling’s newly made spirit will join it soon.

Not a moment later, another soul crashes into it in a blaze of red and gold, as glorious as the red of the godling’s hair and the golden glow of his skin.

The souls weave their ends together in delight, their lights so dazzling that it’s almost painful to keep watching. But he can’t tear his eyes away.

All too soon, they’re torn away from each other to be sewn back into mortality, born anew.

The god of death watches as the two are born, the godling a prince in the sandy land of Khemet, and his precious human the son of the son of the royal advisor. Watches as they grow up; napping together; playing hide and seek in pots; running down the corridors giggling; stealing kisses from one moment to the next; lives closely intertwined despite the gap in between their stations.

Even when the young pharaoh must take a wife, he keeps his beloved scribe close by. Despite their roles, their many obligations, they are happy.

The god of death blinks, and the years pass. Already they are dead again, the pharaoh and scribe passing at the end of a long, peaceful reign.

And now the human’s soul awaits him.

For the first time in his existence, the god of death is…

...nervous.

The once-godling’s soul swirls around the human’s, its flight jittery and uneven. It remembers its deal with the god of death on some level. Its light flares anxiously even as the human’s soul bumps up against it in an attempt to be soothing.

The god of death stands. It has to be now, or never at all. He must tear his tear his godhead out, become mortal.

The human is his. Or, he will be. As soon as the god of death woos him. (He has never wooed anyone before. The thought worries him a little. But perhaps life as a human will prepare him?)

The shadows flare in alarm as the god of death cries out, clutching at his chest and sinking to his knees, panting quietly. They butt up against his robe, fussing over him. Their master is so small now, so delicate, and they can hardly feel their connection to his body anymore. They curl around him tighter, trying to drink him in.

“Enough tarrying,” the god of death says. “You have to kill me now.”

His shadows recoil, alarmed. Kill their master? But, they’ve never been without him. They need him.

It’s silent. And then whispers begin again. No. No. Nononononono noooooooOOOOOOOOO.

“Silence!” the god of death snaps, wincing from his ringing ears. “There’s no need for all this fuss! Human lives are short. I’ll return before you even feel my absence.”

His shadows whine, curling around him, pulling at his robe as they beg for comfort. He sighs and sits down, beginning to pet them. He doesn’t spend too long indulging them before he plucks a shadow up, pointing the flickering tip at his breastbone. “Right here,” he says, tapping over his new beating heart. “Quickly now. Nice and sharp.”

He waits, impassive as the shadow wriggles in his grasp, its long form growing sleek and dagger-sharp at the tip. It drives forward. There’s only time for a short, choked gasp of pain.

The god of death slumps over in the shadows’ embrace. They twist mournfully around his empty body, touching his hands and face.

And then they devour him.

This is the only way they can be together until their master returns to them.

In the quiet gloam of night, a pair of men kiss in bed, their shadows dancing across the walls as the candlelight flickers. As they break away, one of them sighs. The other man knows that sigh intimately, even if he’s not sure what exactly it means.

“What’s wrong, Yuugi?” he asks softly, touching foreheads with his lover. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Yuugi frowns at his lap. “I don’t know. I just feel like - I’m missing something. Something important. I wish I knew what it was.”

Something in Yami twinges. Why does he suddenly feels so uneasy? But he squeezes Yuugi’s hand. “Maybe you’ll remember in the morning,” he soothes. “Whatever it is, it can probably wait.”

Yuugi smiles at him, and Yami can’t help but smile back, touched by the warmth and adoration in Yuugi’s eyes.

“You’re right,” Yuugi says, pulling Yami back down. “I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually.”

Miles and miles away, another man is leaning against the window, staring up into the sky. He reaches towards the blanket of stars and does not wonder why he feels empty. He’s felt this way for as long as he can remember. It doesn’t bother him most days. Today is one of them.

He lowers his hand and closes his eyes. Goes to bed. Knows one day he’ll stop feeling so lost and alone.

One day.

#puzzleshipping #monarchshipping #three gods au #my writing #ygo fanfic

[djavoll]

have some trashy, post-midnight sprint, self-indulgent intro to the hybrid universe i hope to actually write and publish one day. (unedited unbetad etc etc u know the drill)

pairing: pre-yoonkook + established vmin (vague hints at vminkook and taegi bc that’s how i roll)

rating: pg-13

length: 1.4k

summary: jungkook turns 21. his surprise party is less ‘here’s a stripper!’ and more ‘we adopted a cat hybrid under your name. happy bday bro!’

Jungkook expected a lot of things out of his twenty-first birthday. He expected to get so shit-faced drunk that he might have to visit the hospital for a quick, casual, run-of-the-mill stomach pump. He expected a sloppy blow job from an eager friend. He expected a customized cake of a favourite video game. He expected to magically turn cool and confident and mature and totally look like A Man the way Jimin and Taehyung already do, and no, he's not jealous. A lot of people say his baby face is a charming point, actually. Lots of them. So he expected a lot from his birthday, yes, but you only turn twenty-one once in your life. From thereon it's all downhill; a mess of living up to your childhood expectations, getting an Adult Job, doing adult things which involve not being the world's brattiest younger sibling. He's not really prepared for all that. Twenty-one on the dot is perfect as is. He expects twenty-one to be his lucky year. Funny thing about expectations, though, is that they're rarely ever met. Jungkook walks away from his birthday celebration free of poisoning of any sort (yawn), only reasonably high from the nug Hoseok brought to the party, and holding the official documents for the adoption of one human-feline hybrid named Min Yoongi. But let's backtrack a bit. All of it, like all the bad ideas Jungkook gets dragged into, starts with Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin and Taehyung, god bless their beautiful, perverted hearts, have been pioneering human-hybrid companionship in their little circle of friends for a few years by now. It all started rather simply: Taehyung was deemed unsuitable for the market (read: for sale) due to a number of health reasons and his undesirable lack of post-human genes. He ended up being let go of the corporation (read: kicked out), forced to make a living on his own, and ended up on the steps of the Park family restaurant weeping, begging on his bare knees to be granted a job. Anything. Even as a dishwasher. He had worked there for a total of six months when Jimin came over for a visit from university and after one glance, fell deeply in love. Took him back to his apartment in the city. Introduced him to all his friends. Signed him up for online classes. (Became his best friend and boyfriend for years to come). It was a lot to take in at first, but neither of them have been shocked by the presence of hybrids for many years now. Taehyung fit right in, standing among them as an equal in all terms. A friend, a boyfriend, a brother. Jungkook could handle that. Jungkook can handle a lot. He definitely can handle a hybrid. "Jimin, I can't handle a hybrid." "Yes, you can! I know you can," Jimin groans again, throwing his head back on Taehyung's shoulder, on whom he's seated. "You're Tae's friend, too. You practically live at our place. You can totally do this." "Yeah, Kook, seriously. What are you so scared of?" Taehyung asks, voice muffled against Jimin's neck. Nuzzling gently, as if to leave his scent behind. "I don't know, man. This is a lot to dump on someone without their prior agreement." Jungkook whines and whines, clutching the official document in is hand like he can't believe it's real. That this is really, actually happening. "I don't even know anything about this hybrid." Namjoon wolf-whistles from where he's laid on the couch, face down, drooling steadily into the pillows. "Dude, so hot. Such a babe. Eleven out of ten." Taehyung tosses a flip-flop on his head, "shut up, that's not the intro he needs." Namjoon goes to toss it back, but witnessing Jimin's menacing glare, he reluctantly puts his hand back down. Closes his eyes again. Continues drooling. "His name is Min Yoongi, he's twenty-five years old, a feline hybrid like Taetae," Jimin lists off his fingers, face scrunched up, "oh! and he's also from Daegu. Tae has met him before, at event briefings way back. Tell him about it, babe." Perking up from a light scratch behind his ears, Taehyung smiles encouragingly. "Yep, I know Yoongi from a long time ago. We just mostly reunited in glances when Jimbles and I were going through the adoption process, so I haven't really spoken to him in years, but," he sighs, fond, "Kook, he's so cute. If I get mistaken for a canine hybrid a lot, then Yoongi is a fucking teacup kitten. I love him." "Show us some photos, maybe?" Hoseok plops his chin on Taehyung's knee, wriggling his brows. "Ooh, I have something!" Jimin chirps, pulling out his phone. He scrolls through his photo album manically, the sound of his thumb tapping the screen loud in the quiet room, face contorted in concentration. Taehyung stares over his shoulder ready to tell him when. "Ah! There it is!" Then he's leaning down to show it to Hoseok, who 'oooh's loudly and lewdly, captivated by the screen, apparently watching a video. "That's kinda hot, I'm not gonna lie." "What is it? What are you showing him?" Jungkook's never been good at controlling his impulses, even when it comes to feigning nonchalance. He's always been a bit of a hedonist. "I wanna see. Let me see." he babbles as he trudges his way to the front couch, tripping over blankets and pillows, then snatches the phone away. He ignores the plights of protest in his wake and presses play, wide eyes and lower lip bitten. A split second later all he has is regret. "Oh, fuck." he mumbles. "Fuck, yeah." Hoseok echoes. So, the video. He expected it to be a lot of things. A cute video of him smiling. Yoongi man wearing something revealing. Lots of expectations. Funny thing about expectations. The video loops and once again he's met with the image of Jimin and Taehyung's bed - unmade and soft in the afternoon light - and on it Taehyung making out sloppily with a much smaller, paler man. And oh, boy, is it hot. Ghost pepper hot. 'I-will-not-lose-a-noodle-challenge' Jeon Jungkook level of hot. "Oh, fuck." "You already said that." someone chortles. Jungkook pays it no mind and lets the video play again. The man - Yoongi, his name is Yoongi - is sat forward facing Taehyung with just his knees resting on top of Taehyung's thighs. His shoulders are fairly broad but he's otherwise small, fucking tiny, in a simple black tee and ripped jeans, and oh my god-- the softest mop of black hair and little black ears. He's a dream come true. He's Jungkook biggest fucking fantasy in the flesh. He's perfect. Jungkook had popped his fair amount of boners over Taehyung (Jimin and him are unaware of things such as boundaries or privacy), so he doesn't really mind his presence. Quite the contrary, the contrast is really something else. Taehyung's golden tan skin, plush red lips against the pale pink of Yoongi's smaller, poutier mouth. It's poetry in motion. Yoongi's jawline is sharp and he moves so leisurely against Taehyung, with all the practiced ease in the world, like he was born to suck faces. He makes wet, smacking noises whenever he pulls in and out of the kiss, and Jungkook is fucked. He's fucked even more when just a hint of a small, red tongue peeks out from between his and Taehyung's mouth. God, he wonders if it tastes as good as it looks. He's three seconds into his tenth replay when the phone is yanked out of his hands. "Alright, that's enough perving over my boyfriend. We can talk more about this tomorrow." Jimin waves him off, much to Taehyung's amusement. That goddamn bastard. He knows exactly what he does to him. "Let's all go to sleep." Namjoon and Seokjin are deep in slumber when Hoseok announces, begrudgingly, that it is indeed late. Half past five in the morning, in fact. Jungkook goes to sleep with an awkward, overly-excited boner, thinking of all the possible ways he can fuck this Yoongi dude sideways once he gets to his place. Happy fucking birthday to him. (Spoiler alert: as all predictions done by one Jeon Jungkook, this one fails, too. Turns out Yoongi's dick game is just as good as his bubble butt and cute tongue. Jungkook learns to bend over any way he wishes.)

#fics #yoonkook #vmin #the grand hybrid universe #2am shitposting #*fic