#it’s so warm out i was actually sweating taking these
she went outside ?
12 notes · View notes
How He Sleeps
(A/N: It's been a lot longer than I thought since I've posted, but I have no sense of time and I'm in the middle of finals so I've been distracted recently, so I'm sorry for the delay. Hope you all enjoy!)
He sleeps usually in sweatpants, often old and peppered with stains of questionable color and origin, different from the sweatpants he wears out when he doesn’t feel like looking presentable just to go grocery shopping
These are the sweatpants that never see the light of day; between you and Alfred, he’s never allowed to wear them in public
On colder days, he’ll wear a t-shirt or undershirt to bed, but if it’s warm he’ll probably go shirtless
He kinda just keeps his blankets on his bed year round, and kicks them off when he’s too warm then pulls them back when he’s too cold
As far as his bed goes, it’s haphazardly made in the morning and wrecked when he’s sleeping at night; he doesn’t care much for how his bed looks
He’s not so much a blanket hog
Instead, he steals the sheets
He’ll get them tangled around him, and you’ve accidentally ripped one set (they were cheap, okay?) trying to get your half back
As for how he actually sleeps, with you, he likes to cuddle, even when it’s warm
he just likes the feeling of having someone present and with him
Usually, he’ll be the big spoon, but when he’s injured or vulnerable, or just needing comfort, he’ll be the little spoon
Wrapped in your embrace, he gets the best sleep he can
By himself, he spreads out, but not to starfish levelBut if someone else comes into bed with him, once he recognizes them as not a threat, he’ll octopus around them
Sleeps usually in just boxers
If it’s cold he’ll throw on some sweats or pj pants, and if it’s freezing, maybe he’ll add a shirt
But he usually runs warm when he sleeps, so it’s not often an issue
Always sleeps with at least a sheet, and keeps his bed made for the most part, though it doesn’t always stay neat by the end of the night
He always sleeps facing the door, and with weapons accessible
He’s protective, even in his sleep, and sleeps best when you’re either lying on him in some way or when he’s wrapped around you
And he’s a pillow hog; he’ll leave the blankets, but you’ll wake up in the morning and find yourself without a pillow
It will either be behind him, by his legs, or in his arms
You think it’s adorable, but you could do without the neck pain from sleeping without pillows
So you’ll use him as a pillow instead
By himself, he sleeps on his side or on his back, pillows both under his head and behind him, and he doesn’t move around too much unless he has a nightmare
When he actually gets ready to go to bed, he wears t-shirts and boxers most often
Tim keeps a lot of covers on his bed —he gets cold easily— and he’d rather have the layers than the long pants on
He does, though, have a collection of assorted t-shirts his friends have given him and wears those to bed and around the house; at some point you started counting how often he wears what shirts and it’s become a bit of a running tally you share with his friends. Tim has no idea
When you’re sleeping in the same bed, assuming you convinced him to actually sleep and not just pretend to sleep only to go back to work, the two of you sleep intertwined in some way, whether it be hands, legs, or one of you sleeping on top of the other
When he’s alone, he curls up small and into the fetal position
It scared you once, when you thought he was in bed and didn’t really see him because he was curled up amongst his pillows
He was there, and you accidentally woke him up as you patted down the bed
In general, he takes all the comforters on the bed and bunches them around himself
When you’re with him, you’ll usually be able to keep hold of a little bit, but sometimes it’s too hot out for that many covers, and you have to back away from him and his comfort mound
Sleeps in undershirts and pj pants, usually solid colored dark tees and various dark patterned pants, often striped or plaid
He never wants to be caught off guard and in a position where he’d be indecent
Also he just would rather sleep fully clothed
Sleeps better under the weight of the covers, so the winter months are more enjoyable for his level of comfort
You eventually get him a weighted blanket, and he adores it
When you’re sleeping next to him, he sleeps best, though only he truly understands how much better he feels when you spend the night sleeping beside him
The two of you don’t always touch, especially since you tend to stay in one spot for the most part, but it’s common to fall asleep with your head using his arm or shoulder as a pillow, or with your legs tangled together but heads on separate pillows
With the weighted blanket, sometimes there will be one of you who has more because it’s not very stretchy, but otherwise, there aren’t too many problems
27 notes · View notes
𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓼/𝓸
Love is sort of an unfamiliar emotion for Eins
Not so unfamiliar that he completely denies feeling it in the first place
It's just that he'd have to make absolutely sure that what he's feeling is love before he draws any conclusions
The moment he even has the slightest inkling that he's in love with you, he'll withdraw from you a little bit
Try not to feel bad
He just needs a moment to think
Once he determines that he is, in fact, in love with you, he'll keep it to himself for a while
At least until he works up the courage to tell you
You'll probably notice him smiling just a bit more when he's around you
But he'll deny it
Also, don't feel bad if he doesn't show his love for you too prominently
It's going to take him some time to get used to loving someone again
But rest assured, his love for you is unwavering and unconditional
Kai wouldn't act that much different if he's in love with you
He'd probably be a bit more cuddly and affectionate though
Makes it a point to spend a lot more time with you
Enjoys napping/cuddling with you all the more
Kai would also be a bit more smiley when he's with you
Unlike his brother, Kai would probably be more likely to tell you his feelings sooner rather than later
He might stutter a little bit
But please be patient
If you tell him you love him too, he'll just freeze
Kai.exe has stopped working
Prepare to be rewarded with huge bear hugs and snuggles
Bruno wouldn't know what to do with himself
Suddenly he wasn't able to breathe and his face felt extremely warm every time he saw you
He disregarded it as a common cold
But then this "cold" persisted for a few days after, which then turned into weeks
What's worse, he couldn't stop stuttering around you for whatever reason
Constantly asks himself what's wrong with him
You know how he's usually well put together and keeps his composure?
Yeah that goes straight out the window when he's fallen for you
Bruno takes a methodical approach when he confesses to you
Even so, he's a nervous wreck
He feels an abnormal amount of relief when he gets it off his chest though
Might actually faint if you say "I love you too"
Seals the deal with a quick kiss
Bruno promises he's never been happier in all his life
We all know how slow Leo can be sometimes
So the concept of being in love with you might fly straight over his head at first
He's the epitome of "what's wrong with me why do I feel like this"
But once he realizes that he only gets a huge knot in his chest and starts sweating uncontrollably and gets super red when he's around you
It'll dawn on him
Completely denies it if you or his brothers ask him about it
But then he saw your smile and heard your laugh
And time stopped for him
Like "omg I think I am in love"
Treats you with all the sweetness and respect in the world
As he should
Leo confessing to you is more like him saying "I have something to tell you" and then not saying anything for a while
So you two are just sitting there in silence for a minute before he's just like "So... don't take this the wrong way but... I kinda... sort of... love you. But don't read too much into it!"
Dies a little inside when you don't say anything
Soul completely leaves his body if you kiss his cheek in return and say "I love you too"
Licht's reputation as a casual lover is kinda sus but believe me when I say
His love for you is r e a l
He'd make it super obvious that he loves you too
We're talking flirting with you a lot, kissing your cheek, calling you silly pet names
If you don't catch on at first, he won't be too bothered by it
But once he's ready, he'll make it clear to you how he feels
Licht would confess to you accidentally on purpose
What I mean by that is
You two could be laughing at whatever
Sitting all close to each other
Your voice is music to his ears btw
And all of a sudden, he'd be like "See, this is why I love you"
You'd stare at him like "huh"
And he'd look at you like "You heard me"
Furthers his point by kissing you for a good few seconds
Licht promises to love you and only you for as long as possible
4 notes · View notes
1 - tiny hands in big hands
3 - cold hands in warm hands
29 - holding hands while running through the rain
They were halfway through their run when the clouds rolled in. Lily, who noticed them first, sped up and nudged Lucy as she went by. "Better run faster," she said through panting breath. "Rain's coming." A cold breeze swept through as if to emphasize her words.
They hadn't checked the weather before they left, confident in the warm sunlight that had been shining down, but they should have. Autumn days in Glimmerbrook could change quickly.
Lucas looked at the looming rainclouds, which darkened the sky ahead but didn't block the sun yet. "Think we can beat it?" he asked.
Lily grudgingly noted how he was barely breathing heavily at all. He had to slow down to run with her and it was annoying to admit.
"We can try," she huffed, knowing full well that she couldn't keep this pace the rest of the way home. She'd been running more often than ever before, because Lucy liked to do it, but she still wasn't good at it. "Though I could probably run faster if you didn't feed me so much cake!"
He laughed. "But you love cake! And I would be remiss in my duties as a boyfriend if I didn’t get it for you."
"You just like watching me eat it," she said, shoving at his shoulder so he veered off course for a second.
His laugh deepened. "That I do."
The rain held off so long they began to think they'd actually make it. They were within sight of Lily's house when they realized how wrong they were. The clouds had closed in, blocking out the sun, and with no warning at all, the heavens opened up on them.
Lily shrieked as the cold rain hit and soaked her in an instant, but she could barely hear herself over the sounds of a million droplets hitting the ground all at once.
Lucy, who was just ahead, turned and grabbed her hand in his. Her small one all but disappeared in his warm grip. "Just a little farther!" he yelled, pulling her into an all out sprint even though it was already far too late.
Too tired to run that fast, Lily stumbled. She had a vision of falling flat in her face in the mud, but Lucy never let go of her. He caught her and helped her right herself and then they were off again, hand in hand through the onslaught of sluicing rain. They made it to the house and clambered up the steps and inside, paying no heed to the water that dripped off of them into growing puddles in the front hall.
Hot as she was from the run, Liliana began to shiver as the water evaporated off her skin. Lucy must have noticed because he pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her, warming her through. He smelled like sweat and rain, and she quite liked it on him.
Still, she wasn’t too disappointed when he asked, “Want to go take a shower?”
“With you?” she clarified.
Smiling, he nodded. “Yes, with me. Come on, little witch.” And then it was her who grabbed his hand and dragged him in the direction of the bathroom.
Send a prompt of your own?
48 notes · View notes
Valkyrie x Reader Fic Chapter 1
Summary: Being new to the Games meant there was no messing around. You tied yourself to a strict and introverted schedule to ensure you’re abilities were at their peak development. That was, until a certain Legend stuck a foot in your path that you couldn’t ignore.
Author notes: This originally was going to be a oneshot, but ideas kept coming and I couldn’t fit them all into one place :). It’s been a while since I’ve taken a crack at fic writing, so please excuse any mistakes in grammar or spelling as I didn’t have a beta reader. This is written with a gender ambiguous reader. Feel free to drop some feedback, and let me know what you think! Happy reading :)
Chapter 1: No More Auto Pilot
You woke up to dark skies and a clouded feeling in your head. Though it didn’t look like it, the early morning was upon you and you were anxious to get to your morning tasks. Today was a game day, which only added to your feelings of unease.
You fell into a trance, getting out of bed and into training gear in what felt like a matter of seconds. Before you knew it, you were in the training room, and taking powerful punches at the sand bag in front of you. Your breaths were calculated with each strike, and the familiar sound of your heartbeat filled your ears.
This is how every morning had started for the past month or so since joining the Apex Games. You had left a place you could barely call home, with only one intention: success. All of your energy and focus went towards developing your abilities to their peak. There was no time for anything else, in your eyes. Even during off days and leisure time, you were secluded and focused.
You feel your arms becoming sore even though it feel like you’ve been training for a minute or so. One look at the clock proves you wrong as you realize thirty minutes has passed since first entering the training hall.
Now that you’ve realized how much time has passed, you can feel how heavy your breathing has become and the sweat pooling under your shirt. Since it’s a game day, you decide to take it easy and make today’s session shorter than usual. You know you need to get out of your trance before you even think about going onto the field. Full awareness isn’t just required in the games, it’s a necessity if you want to survive for more than one minute.
As you’re recovering both physically and mentally, the sound of footsteps approaches from behind. You silently curse to yourself, usually the gym is empty for another hour or so.
“Hey.” a voice mixes in the air with your heavy breaths. It wasn’t exactly a warm greeting, but it got your attention. The voice is unfamiliar for the most part.
You turn to them, and see a woman with short white hair standing there. She’s slightly taller than you, and wears an orange flight suit with the sleeves tied around her waist. You recognize her from previous matches- The Winged Avenger.
“Hi. . . Valkyrie, right?” You do your best to get your breathing under control, but to no avail.
“Yup. That’s me,” she says with a smile. She looks you up and down, but you’re focused on her expression. “Looks like you’ve been at this for a while. I was actually going to ask if you were interested in sparring for a bit before we head into the arenas.” Her attention is on you, and it makes you feel slightly dizzy. You realize that limiting socialization may have been a damning mistake now that this unexpected conversation has arisen.
Her friendly demeanor and sparring offer had caught you completely off guard. Up until now, your interactions with other legends had been minimal. Any and all conversation revolved around communicating actions on the field and the occasional technique run-down. You remember that Valkyrie had joined a short while before you, so you figured it had something to do with being new to the Games.
Despite how unpracticed you were with talking, you return her energy and offer a worn out smile. “Yeah, I was about to start getting ready for World’s Edge today. But hey, maybe we can team up for today’s rounds of matches?” Usually you were the one being invited onto teams, but here you were offering to be her teammate in battle. Today was turning out more different than you could have imagined.
Valkyrie nods in agreement. “For sure. We can talk more when we get in the drop ship. I’ll let you continue your routine and whatnot.” She back steps slightly, glancing over at the shooting range area of the training hall.
“Sounds good to me,” you reply with a steadier tone. “I’ll talk to you then.”
She looks back at you and nods once before turning and walking towards the shooting range. Practicing firearm aim before going out to the arena was a smart way to prepare. You smile softly, in what felt like a moment of admiration. You appreciate her focus on improving her abilities in the games.
She suddenly stops and spins on her heal to face you once more. You don’t have time to hide your smile or stare from her.
There’s a moment of silence before she speaks while she takes in your current state, followed by a smirk. It was like she had just learned a secret about you that not even you knew. “I never got your name, by the way.” Her voice carried differently now that she was further from you in the training hall.
“. . . O-oh,” You don’t bother hiding the slight embarrassment in your voice. “I’m (Y/N). But on the field, I go by Zero.”
Valkyrie nods slightly. “Alright (Y/N). I’ll see you later.” The tone in her voice made your skin feel hotter than it already was from the training and small moment of embarrassment. You wonder what it was in her voice that made you feel this way.
As you gather your belongings, your mind is buzzing. It’s impossible to stay focused on a single objective.
All you could think about was her.
You take deep breaths to calm the racing thoughts, not forcing yourself to over exert your brain’s energy. That was the first real conversation you’ve had with another legend since joining the games, so it was normal to feel shaken up.
You can hear the shots of a firearm echo through the training hall, and realize it’s taken you a while to gather yourself.
Once you finally head towards your living quarters, you pass by Mirage and Wraith. The two were having a conversation, but both paused to look over at you and offer a small greeting.They knew of your quite nature, and respected it by not being overwhelmingly talkative.
Instead of remaining silent and waving your hand like usual, you stop and smile. “Hi, I hope you both have good matches today,” you say smoothly.
The pair look confused for a brief moment. You figure it’s because they hadn’t heard your voice outside of the battlefield, and in such a casual setting.
“Hey, you too Zero,” Mirage happily responds, saying so with his finger guns pointed at you. Wraith takes that moment to lightly jab her elbow into his side in a teasing manner, which made you giggle softly. Their friendly companionship added to your elated mood, and you kept a small smile on your face as their friendly banter faded down the hallway.
You get to your room and stare at yourself in the mirror for a second. Your routine was completely altered today, however you didn’t feel mad or disturbed like you assumed you would be. Valkyrie’s voice echoed in your thoughts, and you didn’t try to push it out.
You can’t help but wonder what kind of hex she had put on you.
You enter your closet to grab your field uniform, and look at the black and grey material. You think of Valkyrie’s orange flight suit and wonder if you should add more vibrancy to your gear.
“Stop,” you speak to yourself internally- shaking your head slightly. “Just get ready.”
On that note, you enter the wash room and prepare for the games.
Yes, things were very different today. But you knew you couldn’t let change afflict your senses. Adaptation was key.
_ _ _ _ _
You fiddled with the hem of your shirt while waiting in the drop ship. As always, you were extremely early so no one was there but you. There’s an unusual feeling at the pit of your stomach that is sour. You figured it had to do with bad nutrition or lack of sleep, and try to ignore it.
You take your attention from the thick black material of your uniform and look around the interior of the aircraft. The metallic walls and seating made it feel cold most of the time, but today you felt hot.
“Hey there (Y/N),” Valkyrie greets suddenly “is this seat taken?” She motions towards the seat beside you.
Once again, you were caught off guard. You wonder how she was so light on her feet.
“The seat’s all yours,” you reply with slight apprehension. It wasn’t until now that you realize the feeling in your gut was in fact nervousness. You rub your hands down your legs to try and soothe your unease.
She takes the seat. Her posture is bent forward with legs slightly spread and elbows resting on her knees. “So. . . What kind of skills are you bringing to the field?” She peaks over her shoulder at you as she asks the question, expression cool and composed.
You return her gaze once again, the knot in your stomach refusing to let up. “I’m kind of a jack of all trades. I’m well versed in tracking, fighting, and support. . . master of none, though.” Speaking to someone else about your abilities for once brought more unease. It made you feel exposed.
Especially because you hadn’t won a single game yet.
You had made it in the top five teams a multitude of times, but always fell short. It was hard knowing how to counter your opponents ultimate abilities, let alone dealing with multiple teams at one time. It seemed as though you were always met with those situations as the ring got smaller and smaller.
“Jack of all trades, master of none. Oftentimes better than master of one, right?” Valkyrie’s voice carries you out of your thoughts. You shook your head slightly to regain a sense of control of your attention.
“I’ve never heard that second part before,” you admit, grinning slightly. “It makes me feel a bit better going up against the other legends. They’ve all mastered their specific fighting techniques very well.”
Valkyrie sits up slightly as you talk, nodding as you spoke. “Sure, it’s unusual to not have a specific skill set, but it’s still useful as hell from the sounds of it. Who have you teamed up with before?” She sounds interested, which encourages you to open up a bit more.
“I’m usually in duo teams with Bloodhound or Lifeline. They both have great tips for how to improve, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m the reason we lose when defeat falls upon us.” Your statement makes Valkyrie scoff.
She waves her hand as though she’s wiping away what you just said. “Losing is in the cards like winning is. Plus, those guys are on the ground the entire time. You’ve never experienced what it’s like taking the games to the skies.” Her voice is strong and confident as speaks, and the strong esteem makes you smile.
She smiles back at you and suddenly the knot in your stomach tightens.
“Y-yeah. You’re not wrong. I’m excited to see your abilities in action once were in the arena,” you respond, voice sounding almost constrained. You needed to get a hold of your feelings.
“. . .Best way to deal with the nerves is knowing that you’re never gonna stop improving. There’s no goal or peak your reaching. You just gotta keep trying,” Valkyrie says with a steady tone, sensing your apprehension.
You internally wonder how she’s so confident without being overly cocky. She carries such a strong energy with her, which leaves you almost intoxicated.
Other members usher themselves into the drop ship, and you notice that everyone glances at you with an almost surprised expression. Even Bloodhound looks at you to offer a small nod. Was it really that unusual to see you speaking to someone else?
Valkyrie doesn’t seem to notice the looks, and if she does, she ignores it with ease. You both talk about field strategy and how to navigate World’s Edge. Both of you were well aware of the wild differences in climate and terrain, but Valkyrie insisted that’s on long as there’s a sky- there’s nothing to worry about.
Once the ship is loaded up, flight prep is initiated. You get buckled in and think about what’s been discussed between the two of you.
A random question pops into your brain.
“Hey,” you get her attention before the engines begin roaring. “I know your call-name like you know mine, but was is your actual name?”
Valkyrie looks at you and smiles mischievously, “Classified information, Zero, But maybe you’ll be granted access if we win a match today.” Ah, her wit was both a blessing a curse. However, you would be lying if you said it didn’t motivate you to win today.
You stare at her for a few moments, with a playful glare on your face. “Okay. Fair enough, helmet head.” Your response is met with a small shove of your shoulder from Valk.
“Did I hear something about winning today’s matches?” A familiar voice pipes up from your right. You turn to see Loba Andrade with a competitive expression on her face. “Because the only people winning today’s matches are Bangalore and me today, sweetheart.”
Her tone is playful, and Bangalore jeers to add into the competitive banter. You look over at Valkyrie and scrunch your face slightly as the other legends boast about their future victories. Valkyrie doesn’t look too entertained.
As the engines begins to roar, you look down at Valkyrie’s extended fist. You don’t really know what she’s doing.
“What, you’re just gonna leave me hanging?” Her voice still carries over the loud machinery. She takes you hand and makes it into a fist, before grasping your wrist and pulling it towards hers for a fist bump. “That’s more like it. Battle face on, (Y/N). We got this.”
The places where her hands touched feel like they’re on fire, and you hope that the blushing on your face isn’t noticeable to the people you were surrounded by. After that final interaction, you realize that the nerves in your stomach don’t have much to do with the game.
They have everything to do with her.
As the ship ascends into orbit, you internally panic at what’s unfolded. But before you can get to far into self-loathing, you remember what’s at stake.
You need to know her name.
That’s all the reminder you needed to get in the right headspace. You would win at least one match today, and try harder than ever before.
_ _ _ _ _
End notes: In the next installment of the fic, I’ll go more into Zero’s abilities. Hopefully I’ll have time to write it this coming weekend. My goal is to make updates happen weekly, and then once the fic is complete- I might post it to Ao3! If you’ve read this far, thank you for your time and a please let me know what you think!
37 notes · View notes
ʃ: fingers running through sweaty hair?
Thanks for your patience! Here it is.
Still taking prompts from this list if anyone’s interested and doesn’t mind a slow response. (To the two anons who requested variations on ⌓, I see you, stay tuned!)
Also available on AO3.
He's not surprised when Athena's eyes narrow when she opens the door.
If he's completely honest with himself, it's why he didn't cancel on dinner with her and Bobby: he wanted— wants— to be seen.
She doesn't say anything about it, not at first; just purses her lips and takes the bottle of wine he'd brought. Runs a hand over his shoulder. "Good to see you, Buck."
"Hi, Athena." He doesn't go in for a hug, and her frown deepens. He should've called it off when the creeping suspicion that he wasn't just worn down but actually getting sick had settled into resigned certainty an hour and a half ago. That would've been the responsible thing to do. Keep his germs to himself.
The idea of being alone in his apartment, though, flat on his back in his too-big bed with his eyes aching, aching, in the dark— it had just been too much to take.
"Buck!" The way Bobby welcomes him in feels like he's welcoming him home.
Bobby takes a step closer, all concern. "You okay?"
"Just a little tired." He tries to brighten up his smile.
"Well, come sit down. Dinner's not quite ready, but it will be soon."
He follows Bobby and Athena into the living room. Makes conversation, exchanging stories of their wildest calls. It's good, and it's easy, and then it's not. The ache is moving outward from his eyes, radiating through his skull. Shockwaves. Pinging wires. The conversation is moving on without him. He's not quite sure where it's gone.
"Buck?" Bobby's voice, cutting through the haze.
"Yeah." It comes out shaky, and he realizes with a start that there's sweat at his temples. Under his arms.
"You're not looking so good, Buckaroo." Athena. Disapproving, but in, like. A caring way. He squints at her, the dim light too bright, and her eyes flick to the side. Meeting Bobby's, just out of his line of sight, and it's Bobby's hand that lands on his forehead, steady and calloused and cool. It kind of makes him want to cry, the way it took this long in his life to find someone who—
He pushes back the thought, and then, after a breath, lets it in, Dr. Copeland's voice steady in his mind.
To find someone who actually wants to be his dad.
He's blinking fast, trying to keep his breath even, trying not to grieve for the childhood he never got to have, and it's that thought that crumples his resolve. A breath that's a million things all mixed up together, and then Athena's there, too. "Lie down," she says; an inexorable command. It feels better, lying down, just a bit, and he lets himself drift again. There's movement all around him. A strange sort of hurricane. It settles with his body under a blanket and a pillow under his head.
"Now, why didn't you just tell us, hmm?" Athena's fingers running through his sweaty hair.
He's so close to sleep, to being pulled under, and the truth falls off of his lips. "I didn't know how."
This low sound in her throat, threat and protest and dismay all rolled into one. Buck can't convince his eyes to open, but he can picture them, feel them there: Athena, warm at his side on the edge of the couch; Bobby, standing beside her, a hand on her shoulder.
"He's getting there," Bobby says, and it's murmured, like he thinks Buck's already asleep. A collective exhale, and Buck breathes out, too. "He'll learn."
"Learn faster," Athena tells him, and it's all impatient warmth. "Can't take care of you if you don't let us, kid."
He's weighted down with fever and sleep, but he does his best to nod against the pillow.
"Okay, then." Decisive, protective, assured. "You’re staying here tonight." An afterthought, like it’s so obvious she shouldn’t even have to say it out loud.
Turns out he needed to hear it all the same.
14 notes · View notes
23 + kaysanova!
23 - carrying the other one in their arms
alright so maybe joe has miscalculated things and actually gotten in way over his head with this.
when sweet, gorgeous nicky invited him to watch a movie after work, joe had thought he’d meant going to the movies. the idea of sitting in the dark for two hours with the man he has a crush on had sounded tempting to joe, though he had no intention whatsoever to make a move and potentially jeopardize their friendship.
in his lovesick, fucked up brain, that meant spending more time alone with him, just basking in his presence. it all sounded like a dream--
… until nicky parked his sleek black sedan right outside his apartment building and okay, fuck. maybe joe should have seen that one coming.
“i hope you like my netflix selection of dramas or--” nicky pauses after unbuckling his seatbelt, clearly noticing how quiet joe had just gotten and turning those big, concerned green eyes on him. “hey, are you alright?”
no, cause you just took me back to your apartment and i am about to have a stroke. joe nods far too enthusiastically, smiling in a way that didn’t make him seem too unhinged. he’s not quite sure if he’s succeeded. “yeah, of course! and i’m definitely going to like your list, nicky, don’t worry about it.”
thankfully, nicky seems to be convinced enough to not press the subject any further, unlocking the car and climbing out. joe follows him, his feet a bit unsteady as they enter his building and take the elevator to the seventh floor, the ride far too quiet but not really unpleasant. joe’s palms have started sweating somewhere between floors four and five, and by the time the elevator pings and its doors slide open, his mouth is dry and he’s so lightheaded he thinks he might faint. so much for a quiet night evening just basking in his presence, joe thinks, curling his hands into tight fists so they would fucking stop shaking, thank you very much.
nicky walks ahead of him when they reach his door and joe very pointedly does not think about how broad his shoulders are in that tailored suit he’s wearing and then his apartment door is opened and the place gets flooded in a warm orange light and nicky says, “make yourself at home while i take a quick shower, okay?” and joe’s brain short circuits.
he stands in the middle of nicky’s pristine living room like a fool, heart pounding frantically against his breastbone because this shit is unreal. joe walks towards the soft, green sofa and plops down, sighing heavily as tries to get his mind around the fact that he is in nicky’s apartment, that this warmly-lit place filled with family photos and a couple of black and white movie posters is his home. he nearly chokes on air when he notices a familiar sketch framed on the wall next to the tv.
it’s my sketch.
joe still vividly remembers the blush on nicky’s cheeks when he offered him the portrait a couple of years ago, as a birthday present. it was hardly his best work - just a charcoal portrait of his profile, long eyelashes, mole and beautifully sculpted cupid’s bow on display - but nicky had looked at him with such raw intensity in that moment that joe had felt special.
“this is already my most prized possession, joe,” nicky had said as he wrapped his arms around him, warm lips brushing the column of joe’s neck. “because you gave it to me.”
joe couldn’t believe he had framed it.
“you didn’t think i would frame it, did you.”
fuck! joe nearly jumps a foot up in the air when he hears nicky’s voice so close to his ear, turning around to look at him, which is the absolute worst decision he could have taken.
nicky, freshly showered and his sleep clothes, is a menace. his brown hair is still wet, green eyes watery and heavy-lidded, and he smells like cedarwood and sea breeze all mixed together. he is also looking at him with a fondness joe remembers all too well, and it’s all too heady for words.
that’s why joe quickly looks down at his feet, feeling like a teenager talking to his school crush for the very first time. this will definitely not make it to his top 10 smoothest moments.
“well, i’m very glad you liked it,” he mutters awkwardly, chancing a glance at nicky only to find him already staring, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips upward.
“i told you it was my most prized possession, didn’t i?” there’s a flush high up on nicky’s cheeks just like all those years ago, when joe first offered him the sketch, and there’s no way he is going to overanalyze this reaction, no way. this is a fun evening at a friend’s house, his stupid feelings don’t need to be involved. “let me fix something for us to eat so we can relax a bit.”
thank you. “you read my mind, my friend.”
relax is all joe needs right now.
turns out joe was probably much more tired than he had anticipated.
they have reached the first half of atonement of all things when his eyes begin to flutter shut. maybe it’s the fact that he is sitting so close to nicky, their thighs pressed flush together, or maybe it’s the fact that he has eaten a delicious meal that nicky had cooked especially for him, as he had said (as if joe needed another reason to love that man with everything in him), or maybe it’s just because he doesn’t have to work for two days, but he feels so warm and content that this movie is the last thing on his mind. he feels his body sinking further against the soft cushions of nicky’s sofa and then he’s gone, his head lolling back and brushing nicky’s shoulder.
joe never hears nicky’s fond chuckle, or notices the way he leans closer to joe so his head could rest properly against nicky’s shoulder, nicky’s hand coming out to encircle his shoulders protectively. joe only sighs and snuggles closer, already too far away in the dreamland to return.
he does return, however, when he feels a pair of strong arms lifting him up as if he weighs nothing and carrying him away.
“hey,” joe protests against someone’s neck and fuck, they do smell delicious. “you smell amazing,” he nuzzles their neck just because, hearing a sweet giggle in response.
“don’t tickle the person carrying you, joe,” a familiar voice whispers in his ear and joe sighs, resting his head against the person’s chest.
“i should go home,” joe says weakly, but then the person is carefully placing him on a very soft mattress and he’s rolling over immediately, reaching out blindly for the covers.
nicky smiles fondly, taking off joe’s shoes and wrapping him in his duvet, his heart clenching when joe buries his face in his pillow and falls back asleep again.
“rest first, my love. just rest.”
nicky takes one final look at the man he loves, picks up a discarded pillow and another duvet, and goes back to the sofa.
71 notes · View notes
Please Kiss me, Rio: Revering Kiss
Narration, thoughts, speech
I still wasn’t used to attending these fancy evening parties. Yet with another one under my belt, I dragged my tired body to prepare for bed when I heard a knock.
Rio: “Nice work out there, MC”
Rio: “I made some of your favorite milk tea packed to the brim with love~!”
Rio came over holding a tray with a sweet smelling cup of tea sitting on top.
MC: “Haha, thanks. I’ll drink it now...”
My legs were exhausted from having to stand for hours on end, and shook beneath me. Just as it seemed like I was going to fall---
Rio: “Careful now...You alright, MC?”
With one hand still holding the tray steady, his other hand wrapped around me keeping a strong and supporting grip .
MC: “Y-yeah. Thanks to you, Rio! Otherwise I would have face planted right onto the floor.”
Rio: “No sweat! Have no fear, whenever my master is in need I’ll be here! After all that’s my whole purpose for being here~.”
I couldn’t help laugh at the very Rio answer.
I sat down on the bed. The milk tea was still warm when I accepted it and took a single sip.
MC: “Mmm, this is so good. I feel like I’ll be able to go right to sleep tonight.”
Rio: “I’m glad. But you know, I reeeally want to do more to help make you feel better and get rid of all your aches and woes.”
Rio: “At the party tonight you were standing the whole time. I bet your feet are feeling pretty sore.”
Rio: “How ‘bout you let me give’m them a little massage?”
MC: “W-wait you don’t have to do that! Really, it’s ok.”
MC: “I mean I bet you’re tired too. It can’t have been easy to work on the preparations for the party. You should rest.”
Rio: “Do you really think I’ll be able to get even a wink of rest if I leave while my master isn’t fully cured of her hard day?”
Rio knelt down in front of me, gently covering my own hands that still held the tea cup with his own larger ones.
His eyes stared up at me, shining with a pleading and hopeful gaze. Unable to stop myself, my heart squeezed tightly at the sight.
(Ugh I’m such a pushover whenever Rio goes looking at me with THAT look...)
MC: “Ok, ok you win...But just a little ok?”
Rio: “You got it! Just leave it to me.”
He took the cup from my hands that were still overlapping, and placed it on the bedside table.
But when he suddenly reached for my shoes to take them off I couldn’t help but raise my voice in a panic.
MC: “Wait, I can take them off myself.”
Rio: “MC you’re my master, ya know. So it’s fine if you just sit there and not do a anything.”
(That’s impossible, it’s too embarrassing....)
Rio pain me no mind as I buried my face in my hands while he was busy removing my shoes.
Rio: “Ok, I’ll be touching you now.”
Rio got himself comfortable in front of me, and removed his gloves. I don’t know why but when I saw his hands my heart skipped a beat.
(Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen them in a while...because back before we came here I saw them everyday.)
Rio: “Be sure to let me know if I’m using too much strength.”
So he said but I didn’t have to. From my soles up to my half it felt sooo good. He used just the right about of force that had like putty in his hands.
MC: “Actually it feels good, really good. I’m a bit surprised.”
Rio: “Seriously!? That’s good to hear.”
MC: “How come I never knew you were so good at this? Did someone teach you?”
Rio: “Nope, no one. But I happened to find a book about it in the library and picked it up.”
(Wait, and THAT was all it took for you to get this good...?)
Thanks to Rio and his hands the weariness I had accumulated through the day slowly fell away. His hands were magic. My body felt like heaven.
But now that I was feeling on cloud 9, I was starting to get sleepy. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy.
Rio: “It’s ok if you fall asleep. I don’t mind.”
(I can’t sleep while you’re going out of your way to do this for me...)
Rio: “Really its ok. Not only do I get to pamper you, but I even get to see your cute sleeping face, too.”
Rio: “For me that’s like being given a reward.”
MC: “Well if we’re talking about people getting rewards then it’s me who always gets them....”
Memories of Rio’s friendly smile filled my mind, especially back during the time before we came at to the castle.
No matter when, he was always at my side, filling my heart with happiness and warmth.
MC: “I think I’m being spoiled because you’re always with me...”
MC: “But because of that, even during my spartan lessons or these parties that I’m still not used too, I can do my best.”
MC: “So thank you for everything, Rio.”
I felt a little embarrassed after the sudden emotional confession. Rio stopped moving.
Rio: “Hearing that I’m able to give my favorite person the strength she needs to do her best makes me super happy.”
The fingers still touching my calves caressed me again but the sensation behind the movement was completely different from how it felt before.
Rio’s eyes narrowed happily before he softly kissed the top of my foot.
MC: “! R-rio!?”
Rio: “If tomorrow, and the days after, you can keep doing your best then I’ll be able to do anything.”
The spot he kissed throbbed with heat that spread across my tows and up my legs.
As though I was trying to run from that warmth I tried to pull away, but Rio’s hands wouldn’t let me get away.
MC: “If you keep being sweet on me like this you might end up stuck with me. Because I won’t be able to let you go.”
Rio: “Then maybe I shouldn’t stop. It would make me happy if that happens.”
His fingers still pressed against my heels started to crawly up my calves. I almost felt like there was a silent invitation behind his moments.
Rio: “Besides, I already like you way too much to ever be a part from you.”
He closed his eyes with that smile I was so used too, large and bright. Bit his voice held a hint of sexiness and charm that I wasn’t used to.
(Somehow...I feel like I wont’ be able to sleep but for a whole different reason...)
With both my desire to sleep and weariness melted away. What I was left with was my loudly racing heart.
Okay Rio I see you! Go on and get then!!!
Please Kiss Me
7 notes · View notes
A and B have been dating for a few long months. A is always putting on a show, making everyone laugh, anything they throw on looks amazing, they always make it a point how fit and strong they are, which B finds amusing and mostly hot. B is a little bit shy, they know how to have a good time but aren’t such a show off.
Tonight’s different. They’re coming home from a dinner with friends and A doesn’t want to admit that they ate too many spicy wings, drank too much beer, so they put their backpack to cover their bloated tummy on the way back. B is driving and they can tell A is squirming right next to them. All of a sudden a loud fart cuts their silence.
“All good?” B asks, chuckling a little. A laughs nervously.
“That was actually intentional.” B nods.
The silence is resumed and B pretends not to notice the discreet hand rubbing A’s belly. Things are moving down there and fast. It hurts like a motherfucker but A would have to let some gas out if they wanted to relieve the preassure and they will not fart again. Not trapped in the car with B, no sir. So A holds everything in.
It doesn’t last. A high pitched fart escapes from A’s tightly sealed cheeks and then three hot short toots.A swallows hard, things are shifting in their gut, something’s moving downwards and it’s not taking it’s sweet time.
“Hey, babe, if you’re feeling gassy...”
“Oh god no, don’t say that word...”
“Which word?” B asks with a little grin. “Gassy?”
By this point, A’s hands travel to their stomach, they’re not feeling well at all. The bubble gut is almost constant but the cramps are new and A is sweating, had they been sweating all along? What’s going on? A’s never felt like this, their body is betraying them. A loud string of farts erupts from their bum and they feel like crying.
“We need to find somewhere to stop...” A mumbles shakily.
“Alright, okay”: B looks concerned now, smile gone as A goes sheet white with another warm brassy fart.
“Fuck... Okay, you need to stop now...”
A is whining like a child because they really need to poop and it’s not going to be solid and they’re not going to make it home. B frantically looks for a restaurant or something but everything’s closed and A is getting obviously desperate. Their usual snarky comments and cocky attitude is long gone. They look like a little kid who overdid it at a birthday party, holding their tummy, crying for the loo.
“Just a second, babe...”
“Stop now, let me get out of the car, I don’t care, just... oh...” It happened with little to no warning, for a second A thought they were peeing but that hot jet of liquid was actually poop. They hadp ooped their pants in their partner’s car, they had the worst non precedented diarrhea accident in their partner’s car.
16 notes · View notes
maybe tsukki noya and kuroo with an s/o who is nervous around men because of trauma?
hello! thank you for your order of [headcanons] at this writing/matchup cafe 🍑
first of all, i’m so sorry this request is literally from... 6 months ago, lol. i’m trying to get back into writing headcanons so i can do all my unfinished requests, so uhh better late than never? *sweats profusely*
second of all, i only write for two characters at a time (i just love low commitment lol) so i went with the first two you listed—hope that’s alright! assuming you see this OTL
lastly, i tweaked the prompt a little to exclude the trauma part, since everyone deals with trauma differently and it can be a slightly heavier topic. nonetheless, i still hope you like these! i’m a bit rusty since it’s been awhile since i’ve written headcanons, but i tried :’)
💌 tsukishima & noya + s/o who’s nervous around men 💌
• despite his seemingly i-couldn’t-care-less outward demeanor, tsukishima is actually very understanding and respectful when it comes to this kind of stuff. it’s not just because you two are dating, but because he’s, y’know, a decent human being (even if his friends might jokingly doubt that about him sometimes)
• the first time you and tsukishima coincidentally crossed paths with some of his teammates while you two were out on a date, he could immediately notice how quiet you got. his friends—excited at the possibility of finally meeting their darling tsukki’s s/o—rushed over and tried to be as warm/welcoming as possible (which can be... a little overbearing, even if they don't mean to be)
• but instead of dismissing your discomfort and urging you to at least say hi to his friends, tsukishima turned around and shooed them away LMAO. he was just like, “leave us alone, losers” and shrugged them off before walking back towards you
• if nishinoya and tanaka were present, they definitely would’ve had steam coming out of their ears at how tsukishima just “disrespected his seniors,” and both of them were probably internally threatening to make him pay since they don’t understand the whole situation (insert clip of noya chewing tsukishima’s arm)
• and, frankly, tsukishima would rather his teammates think he’s just being unsociable than having to put you in a stressful situation that you wouldn’t want
• after he’s gotten rid of his loud and rowdy friends, he’ll rejoin you and mutter, “sorry about that.” you don’t mind, of course—it’s not his fault it’s a small world, and you can appreciate that tsukishima cares about your wellbeing in his own ways (even if he’s a little... blunt towards other people)
• bonus: the funny thing is, tsukishima was already considered nice if it’s his friends that you two bumped into. if it were other men (strangers) making you nervous and uncomfortable in public, he’d whisk you away in an instant and throw them a look or two that says “don’t even think about coming near us”
• if there’s one thing that anyone (and everyone) knows about noya, it’s that he will go to the ends of the earth for his s/o and to keep them happy. anything—and i mean anything—that could potentially jeopardize that happiness, he will find a way to fix or avoid
• noya is a vocally expressive person, so he’s constantly reminding you that you can rely on him for anything. there’s a lot of “babe, you know you can count on me, right?” and “are you feeling okay?” and “don’t hesitate to tell me if you wanna go home early!”
• honestly just a thoughtful, considerate king (albeit loud). if you two are at a restaurant, he takes the initiative to call to the waiter, and is pretty much in charge of most social interactions. you never have to ask him to, he just does it because he knows that you can get nervous around men easily
• even if you feel bad about it on occasion (which is natural), he’ll just beam at you and say lightheartedly, “don’t worry! i’m glad i can be a guy that you feel comfortable around, and it’s my duty as the best boyfriend to make sure you don’t push yourself to do anything you don’t want to!”
• noya also has a tendency to keep his arm around your waist or have your fingers interlocked, especially when you’re in public. he tells you to “squeeze twice if you’re uncomfortable” so that he can be aware of how you’re feeling, in case there are times when he doesn’t pick up your other physical cues
• all in all, sometimes it’s easy for noya to get a little sad that something difficult might’ve happened in the past for you to be so nervous around men, but he’s honored that, despite all that, you’re willing to let him into your life. he’s incredibly grateful that you love and trust him so much, and he never stops looking for ways to remind you that he feels the same way about you ♡
hope you enjoyed your stay!
if you did, a like and/or a reblog would mean a lot to me (◜௰◝)
141 notes · View notes
TASK 001 : LIFESTYLE
When you think of Nevin Barak you think of this happy go lucky, out going, one of a kind, life of the party kind of guy. With Nevin, what you see is what you get. He’s the best kind of person to be around, always has a smile on his face. If you need a shoulder to cry on he’s there for you, if you need a laugh he’s got you covered. Although his jokes are more like terrible dad jokes, just the fact that he’s trying makes it worth it.
Nevin is the most loyal person you’ll meet, until you cross him or get on his bad side. If you mess with him or the people he cares about he will go to the ends of the earth making sure you know just how much you fucked yourself over so hard.
The most important thing in Nevin’s life is family, or more importantly his sisters Dilan and Leila. He may be the baby but he sure as shit will protect his sisters at all costs. Being the youngest as its perks because both sisters spoil him rotten, and for that he loves them more than anything. The bond he shares with his sisters is one that can never break.
Nevin is a Cal State Berkley graduate who is proud of that accomplishment. Catch him wearing sweats and sweatshirts, or wearing his soccer jersey, or his Cal hat. He takes pride in knowing that he is more than just a party, frat boy who likes to have a good time.
Everything Nevin owns from Buckley (Buck) his golden retreiver puppy, to his matte black Mercedes G Wagon, to his loft are all things he takes pride in. Buck is his partner in crime, he goes everywhere with Nevin. He mellows Nevin out, calms him down when things get tough. Nevin has a truck, and a motorcycle on top of his G Wagon but his G Wagon was his dream car and being able to actually buy it was a dream come true, I don’t think there is anything he owns that he cherishes as much as he does his G Wagon other than Buck that’s his baby. With his home it’s small but it feels warm and inviting, he’s able to have his sisters over and feel happy and comfortable.
2 notes · View notes
Volleyball Help Part 1
Bokuto X female reader (she/her pronouns)
Word count: 1k
Warnings- Fluff as usual
Tag list @thathawkssimpp @tooloudarts @kingtamakimurder @fandomfreak1000000 @alesipanic sorry if I forgot anyone
Note: I am back bitches and bros and non binary hoes!
It was your third year in high school. You went to Fundokri Academy. It was a good school to go to and the sports teams were well known. You were the setter for the girls volleyball club. The captain and your best friend told you yesterday that you had to go to the boys gym because their captain requested your help.
“Me? What does Bokuto want with me?” You asked, trying to hide your pink face.
“He’s watched us play and he claims you can teach his team a few tricks.” She smiled at you. “Plus, I think he’s got a thing for you.”
“F/n, you know no one sees me in that way. To add on, Bo is literally a foot taller than me!” You picked up the volleyballs that were on the floor.
“You're calling him Bo again” She smirked at you. “come on, you two have known each other for two years. I see the way he looks at you. Now be in your practice clothes and be at the boys gym after school tomorrow.” You sighed and locked up the gym.
“It’s freaking cold out here!” You complained and regretted wearing your practice clothes outside. A tank top and very short shorts.
“Maybe you should’ve brought your jacket today.” Your friend snickered.
“I’m literally wearing a tank top and shorts. Shorts that show that I have an ass, even though I don’t have one! Everything went to my chest.” You held your arms close to you in an attempt to keep you warm.
The next day you were standing at the doors of the boys gym. Looking down at your phone, 3:05pm no one was here. Looking up you saw Akaashi and a few other boys you didn’t know.
“Apologies for making you wait l/n.” Akaashi opened the door. “Ladies first.”
“Why thank you.” You said smiling at him. You couldn’t find your regular practice shorts so you used your ones from last year. They hugged your thighs and butt in all the right places. The boys were practically staring at you. “Where’s Bo?” You asked standing on your tiptoes.
“Don’t know, he should be here by now.” Akaashi replied back, slapping a few of the boys that were staring at you.
“I’ll go find him!” You jumped up with a smile on your face. Running out of the gym you were calling out to him. Now the setter somewhat understands why Bokuto had a thing for you.
“Is she single?” One of the first years asked. Akaashi just smacked him.
“Bokuto said she’s here to help us, not for you to her number. Plus it’s none of our business of her relationship status.”
You found him and the two of you were walking back to the gym.
“Hey, hey hey! I’m so happy that you could lend us a hand!” He smiled.
“It’s no problem, but would I help out with?” You looked up at him.
His mind drew a blank, he had completely forgotten why he asked for help. He was trying not to stare at well, your thighs.
“Akkashi actually wanted your help, but I really wanna play with you! We have a practice match against Nekama this afternoon, will you play with us?!” He was smiling.
“Wow, that’s a lot to take in but yeah I’ll help out as much as I can. But I don’t know about playing against anyone.” You held your arms to your chest trying to stay warm.
Bokuto took off his jacket and put it on your shoulders.
“Here, you can have this! Besides I’m all warm and I can’t let you get sick. You have a game next week.” You blushed slightly and nuzzled into the collar. It smelled like sweat and his cologne. A great combination. Bokuto clearned his throat. “I hope it doesn’t smell bad.”
You giggled. “Oh no, it smells pretty good actually. What cologne is this?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t remember, my sister gave it to me for my birthday last year.”
You showed Akaashi how you set which wasn’t too different from how he did it, you just had your hands in a different shape. The first years couldn’t stop looking at you, which earned them a smack from the managers.
But as soon as Nekama showed up, you hid behind the tall capitan. He looked down at you with a look. “What’s wrong y/n-chan?”
You didn’t know them so you hid. When new people were around you wanted to stay out of their way. To add onto that, you were practically in the wrong clothes to meet new people. You zipped up the jacket you were wearing and looked up at him. Then he realized. “Oh right, you don’t know them?! Kurro this is y/n chan! She’s the best setter on the girls volleyball team we have had in years!” He put you in front of him and you bowed and hid your face in his jacket that was a dress on you.
Kurro just looked at you then looked at bokuto. “You got a girlfriend? How did that happen, you got a 47 on your trig test. How did you get this girl’s attention?”
You hated conflict so you managed to sneak out with your bag outside the gym.
“Phew, well it’s late so I should probably get home.” It was around six pm and you were hungry. You texted Bokuto saying that you were leaving and going home.
The roster and owl were currently spiking balls back and forth. Bokuto’s phone was buzzing on the bench. It was break time and Akashi picked up his phone.
New message from Baby Owl 🥺
Hey Bo, I left and went home. If you want, you can come over tomorrow after school to study. You know how I get when I see new people. I get scared and confused, so I hope you're not mad.
He sighed and gave Bokuto his phone. “Seriously, you have l/n-San as baby owl in your phone. Kinda creepy if you two aren’t dating.”
“Shut up Akaashi!” He blushed a bright red.
“Better hurry up, before someone else makes the first move.”
2 notes · View notes
right place, wrong time
— a someway, somehow jungkook drabble
summary Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook.
warnings angst, heart ache, its actually kinda sad :/ lmfao, jk is a little... uh... como se dice.... jerk without realizing it.... justice for oc.... also there’s a scene where oc throws up so !!
notes THIS TAKES PLACE 5 YEARS BEFORE SWSH ITSELF ! OK ! enjoy <3 i wanted to try writing angst again <3 also i have no self control i said i would post this in 7 hrs yet here i am. and its not proofread <_<
When you were kids, the fact Jungkook’s birthday fell early on into the school year was a huge deal; everyone in your class was invited, both new and returning students, and the event itself was practically the opening scene to the school year itself. As you got older and he began to move away from colorfully decorated parties, his early birthday still earned him a lot of attention, had everyone at your high school congratulating him from the moment the first bell rang until the last. There weren’t any grand birthday bashes during high school, but the Jeons were a loving family, party or no party, and always got him a cake to celebrate each new year.
Up until you left for college, you had never missed Jungkook blowing out the candles for his birthday. Be it a backyard party bustling with kids or a smaller affair at his favorite restaurant, you had always been invited, always cheered for him with each new year of life he welcomed.
As a kid, you had always been adamant on getting the spot closest to him as you sang happy birthday, beaming at your best friend like he was your entire world. His childhood photo albums had been proof of that, filled with a chronological sequencing of every birthday he’s had with you at his side, your smiles changing with the times— from missing teeth to full of braces, you had always been at Jungkook’s side.
As a young-adult, you had to bite down your pride and watch Sojin fulfill that spot.
You had missed his last two birthdays since entering college. Your first year away from home, everyone you knew warned you about not going home too early into the year, something about how it would solidify your homesickness and you’d never be able to assimilate afterwards. So you had congratulated Jungkook from Taehyung’s phone screen, greatly appreciating the way Taehyung angled the phone away from Sojin as best he could. Then your second year, you had been drowning in that first wave of projects and essays, and simply couldn’t squeeze a five hour drive there and back into your schedule. Jungkook understood; there was no party this year, just a simple family dinner. The video call ended soon after you congratulated him, his attention drawn away by the voice of another woman you knew all too well.
For his twenty-first birthday, Jungkook was adamant that you attend. He had told you about it before you had left for the new semester, bent over by the front wheels of your car, making sure everything was in tip-top shape before you went off again. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat, trails running down his hairline, over the prominent veins of his neck.“I want you there,” Jungkook had said, taking your offered hand as he stood back up. He must have miscalculated— or maybe it was on purpose —his step, because when he stepped forward, he was all too close. He didn’t let go of your hand. “Please?”
Your eyes flickered over his chest, to his neck. He smelled like home, or at least the image of it you had created in your mind during your last two years away. Home was lavender fabric softener billowing over you in waves, the faint traces of this morning’s cologne, the subtle scent of his metallic work tools. It was his chocolate curls tickling his eyebrows, his easygoing smile, the way he pulled you closer, made the scents wash over you all over again.
It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook and his warm touch. It was Jungkook and his softened gaze. Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. It wasn’t this Jungkook and the hickey on his neck.
The sight made your stomach recoil, eyes quickly averted from the site of the crime. He had gotten here later than usual, said something about having to take Sojin somewhere first. So that’s what that meant. Jungkook, unaware of the fact the collar of his t-shirt has let you in on his private life, squeezes your hand. “You’ll come, won’t you?”
And you were stupid and you were in love, so of course you said yes.
It’s a cookout this year, his backyard filled to the brim with relatives and friends and so many cans of beer you don’t know what to do. His parents are ecstatic for your return, babbling on and on about how much he missed you for the last two birthdays. You take it in stride, and maybe in a different timeline you would have believed it, but not this one. Aside from greeting you at the door and taking your keys off your hands, you had barely seen the birthday boy all day. You mingle with old friends, his relatives, tentatively sip at your can of soda. You’re tired, the long drive having sapped the majority of your energy for the day.
Sometime around sunset, you meet eyes with him across the yard. Jungkook smiles, he always smiles. You okay? he mimes with a thumbs-up, and you want to say yes, but Sojin is sitting on his lap, an obnoxiously loud display, and when he puts his hand back down, it immediately finds its home on her thigh. You send him a half-hearted shrug, play it off like you're still a little carsick from the long drive here.
(Truthfully, you are sick, but you’re not sure it’s from the drive.)
Even at twenty-one, his family maintains their tradition and sings him happy birthday. With your return, his mother delegates you to cake cutting duties again, so you’re on standby for the song, at his side with the cake cutter in hand. Jungkook is grinning from ear to ear, Sojin attached to his hip, his arm sling around her shoulders. His family sings and sings, and Jungkook is happy. His eyes jump around the table, taking in the sight before him the way he does every year. And when they reach you at his side, Jungkook beams, reaches for your hand beneath the table and squeezes, all the while keeping his girlfriend closely hugged to his other side.
You cut the cake. Sojin gets her slice and promptly whisks Jungkook away.
By ten pm, you find yourself in his upstairs bathroom puking your guts out. It’s the carsickness, you tell yourself, or maybe the cake frosting, throat gagging around nothing, tears clinging to your lash line. But is it really?
“__?” someone says, and you make a weak attempt to turn towards the door. You don’t know what you expected— had you actually wanted Jungkook to find you in this sorry state? —but it isn’t Jungkook. “Shit, what happened?” Taehyung worries, hurrying to your aid. And you’re grateful that there’s someone here to help you, to save you from yourself and your stupid, heartbroken thoughts. But it’s not the man you want it to be, and that has you squeezing your eyes shut tightly, until the mascara on your lashes imprints itself against your under eyes instead.
The man you want bumps into you downstairs, catches Taehyung helping you into the spare bedroom to lie down. “__?” Jungkook calls out, eyes big and scared. “Where— what’s going on?” he asks, thrusting his plate into Sojin’s hands before rushing to your side. He grabs your forearm, and the touch burns, so you yank yourself away.
Faintly, you hear Taehyung explain. “She’s sick,” he says, pulling you closer. “She’s been out of it since she first got here. I think it was the long drive.” Yes, it was the long drive, you agree.
Jungkook, unfazed by your first recoil, reaches for your arm again. “I’ve got her,” he tells Taehyung, underestimating his strength when he tugs you closer, has you stumbling into his chest. His rough handling makes your stomach tighten, your head feel dizzy.
“Jungkook,” you gasp, hand on his chest. “Wait— I’m—“ And he’s trying to move you back up the stairs, probably into his bedroom to lie down. But the sight of the stairs and his overwhelming scent and the hickey on his neck, the hickey Sojin left on his neck, makes you nauseous all over again.
Taehyung yelps in your defense. “Jungkook,” he scolds, carefully maneuvering you out of Jungkook’s harm’s way. “You’re making it worse.”
From a few feet away, Sojin calls out his name. “Jungkook?” she says and her voice is so sweet, yet so sticky; it makes you gag. “Baby, they’re calling for you outside.”
And everyone is saying his name, so he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know who to prioritize, not when everyone wants his attention. He looks at you, and your heart soars for a millisecond. Then it plummets when he settles on Sojin instead. “I— you’re right, Tae,” he sighs, backing off, letting go. “You got __, right?” Taehyung nods. “Call me if anything happens.”
And he leaves, slips his hand around Sojin’s waist and guides her out the door. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even tell you to get better soon. He just leaves.
Taehyung lays you down, doesn’t say a word when you start crying because he probably thinks it’s about your stomach and the vomiting. “It’s okay,” he soothes, helping you out of your shoes. “Does it hurt?”
Yes, you sob. It hurts very badly.
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
326 notes · View notes
(Because you know I’m all here for Bobby being forcibly perceived against his will) lobby or boggie nightmares/talking in his sleep
hi this is also sickfic because it’s you <3 ao3 link in the reblogs!!
i didn’t know just where i’d fall | 1.6k | lukebobby (platonic or romantic)
Luke's awoken in the middle of the night by Bobby muffling a sound into his pillow and kicking, hitting Luke in the back of the leg.
At first, Luke just feels disoriented, and mildly annoyed. It's very late (or potentially very early), and cold, and Luke has been sleeping poorly anyway out here in the studio instead of at home in his real bed, so he can forgive himself for starting out a little grouchy.
But then he registers the fact that Bobby's movement woke him up.
Registers that Bobby is sweaty and sticky and cold where his shoulder presses to Luke's, enough that Luke shifts back, feels his skin un-stick from Bobby's, and it's kinda gross but mostly concerning. Luke vaguely remembers Bobby looking exhausted the evening before, how Luke tried to kick him out to go back to his actual bedroom and Bobby had grunted, said, yeah, will soon and Luke had dozed off soon afterward. Now, Bobby’s whole body looks so tense, Luke sees as his eyes adjust to the dark, as Bobby twitches and kicks again, smaller this time, so Luke can dodge. Bobby's fist clenches in the blanket and he makes another sound — almost like a whimper.
The panic sets in, like ice down the back of Luke's shirt.
Obviously, he can see what the problem is. It's just a matter of what to do about it. But Luke isn't Alex, doesn't overthink things (sometimes doesn't even do the 'think' part, without the 'over'), so while it takes him a second to remember if not waking someone up is the rule for nightmares or sleepwalking, he's pretty sure it's the rule for sleepwalking. So he sits himself up, ready to flinch back if Bobby accidentally takes a swing at him, and says, "Bobby?" Then, a little louder, "Bobby!"
He gets no response. Bobby's breathing hard, but Luke still can't see his face, where it's buried in his pillow. After a moment, he assumes it didn't work. When Bobby makes another one of those awful, vulnerable sounds from the back of his throat, like nothing Luke has ever heard from him before, and Luke can't take it, the way his stomach lurches and his chest hurts at the sound. With as much strength as he can muster, he shoves Bobby's shoulder, hard.
Bobby gasps, coughs, scrambles, and sits up with a start, pressing himself up on one hand. His other arm shoots out and Luke was right to be ready to dodge, but the swing has no real direction, no heat, and Luke easily moves out of the way. Like it was muscle memory more than anything. Or like Bobby was aiming for something else, something that's not there anymore.
His face looks awful. He's way too pale, but flushed somehow, and he's covered in sweat, and trembling, and his eyes are wide. Now that Luke looks, really looks, in this light, he can see the dark bags under Bobby's eyes, the strain in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.
Then Luke remembers who he's dealing with. "Hey," he says, and does his best to keep his tone light and friendly, instead of terrified, and he succeeds on no counts because he's the world's worst liar. "You... okay?"
Bobby blinks, slow, like he's still trying to process what he's seeing, kinda like he's staring right through Luke. Then he blinks again, and looks... well, horrified, for just a moment, and then almost blank, like he used a towel to hurriedly wipe the expression off his own face.
"Fine," Bobby gets out sharply, and tries to push himself up further so he can get out of the bed, but he's shaking so badly that Luke instinctively reaches out a hand to steady him. Bobby really does feel warm, even through his shirt sleeve.
"You don't look fine," Luke mutters. Feels how Bobby's shoulders go tight and wishes he could eat those words right back up because it's Bobby he's dealing with, and he should know better. Less confident, Luke follows up, "Dude, what happened?"
"I just —" Bobby starts, and then stops, slumping back a little as his trembling arm gives way. "It's nothing," insists Bobby, and Luke would ignore it, but Bobby's tone is on the verge of pleading, and he ends it by coughing more into his elbow, a horrible, wet thing that makes Luke flinch back instinctively.
"Okay," says Luke, holding both his hands up in surrender. "Okay. Uh." Shit, what would Alex do? Luke’s own instinct is to flee, because there’s Feelings and Someone Being Sick and Gross involved, but he knows that’s not what Alex would do; Alex would suggest something helpful, without being too pushy, like… "You, uh. You want a shower?"
Bobby hesitates, and then grunts something semi-positive, shoving his sweaty hair out of his eyes and pulling the back of his hand across his nose. Takes a deep breath. When he gets up, he still seems shaky, and Luke can see the way his damp shirt sticks to his back.
They cooperate in silence. Luke runs the shower, gets it to a moderate temperature that hopefully isn’t too hot or too cold, though he knows he runs a little hot personally so he could be off. When Bobby gets in, he makes a groaning sound, and Luke hurriedly tells him, “Don’t change it, okay!”
He hesitates, not wanting to tell Bobby he thinks Bobby has a fever, because Bobby will get bitey and deny it immediately, do whatever he can to prove it’s not the case even if it means showering in hot water. So he doesn’t elaborate, and Bobby doesn’t protest. Luke digs around in the little bathroom in the studio for the spare towel he hasn’t really touched since he moved in, and leaves it on the counter.
Then, he goes out to rummage through his bag of belongings that he scavenged together before turning up on Bobby’s doorstep in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. He’s sure he has some flu medication in here somewhere, some Alex gave him the first day he moved out, when he turned up and angrily started slamming down a variety of bare necessities that Luke obviously needs, you moron on the table.
He also fetches a bottle of half-finished water from beside his guitar stand, and when he returns to the bathroom, Bobby has wrapped himself in the towel and is leaning on the counter wearily. His hair is wet with water, now, and he’s a slightly better colour, but the dark rings under his eyes are extra-pronounced. Luke offers him the water and the medicine, and Bobby raises his eyebrows, sceptical.
Luke does his best puppy-dog eyes. Please don’t fight me on this, he asks silently, because if Bobby gets worse Luke is going to panic and call an ambulance or something. Bobby rolls his eyes with a sigh and swipes the pills and bottles out of Luke’s hands. After he’s downed them, Luke says, “Should we… do you want to go back to bed?”
“No,” Bobby says, too fast. But his legs almost give and he fumbles to grab at the counter with one hand, Luke’s shoulder with the other.
“Yeah, okay,” says Luke, a little panicked, “let’s at least lie down.”
He helps Bobby back to the couch-bed, easing him down onto it. Bobby leans back against the pillows and huffs out a sigh.
Luke hops in next to him again, where he was before. Glances sideways at Bobby, whose eyelids are already drooping, but his jaw is gritted tight. They lie there for a few minutes, and Luke watches Bobby repeatedly doze off and then wake himself back up with force, shifting around and rubbing at his face. He looks so tired, more so as the flu medication must set in, his eyes going a little fuzzy and far-away, and so uncomfortable, and despite the help of the shower, Luke can feel the warmth radiating off him a little too much still.
“I think you should sleep,” Luke murmurs.
“Don’t wanna,” Bobby says, slurred. The flu medication was admittedly the strong stuff. And he’s still feverish.
Luke bites his lip. It’s so hard to make these kinds of calls, but it might be his only chance to ask, to make sure. So, he takes the chance. “Because of the dream?” he asks, swallowing his nerves down and keeping his voice relatively steady.
Bobby pauses, but only for a moment, to sniffle a little miserably. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Scared.”
It hurts Luke’s chest. Bobby’s never like this, never vulnerable or soft, is always the one who knows what to do. And if it’s not Bobby, it’s Alex. It’s never Luke left to manage these situations, because he’s too empathetic and too bad at understanding other people at the same damn time. “Can – shit, man, can I help?”
Bobby shakes his head this time, and curls closer to Luke, like he wants to … like he wants to cuddle up, but isn’t quite that bold. Luke breathes and opens his arms, an invitation. Almost right away, Bobby snuggles close, exhaling too-hot breath into Luke’s chest, tucking his head under Luke’s chin. He’s never seen Bobby like this, never expected to. But there’s something sweet about it, even if Luke feels bad for him.
“Just try and sleep,” Luke mutters, runs a hand up and down Bobby’s back, tries to think of what makes him feel better when he feels unwell and not about how likely it is that he’ll get sick after this, or about how cagey and embarrassed Bobby will be if he remembers any of this clearly tomorrow. Right now, though, Bobby shivers and relaxes against him with a little hoarse cough. He seems so much smaller than usual, but he isn’t nearly as tense as he was before. “I’m here. I gotcha.”
jatp taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @malecacidd @burntchromas @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight @chickwiththepurpleguitar @fairylightsandrainydays @joyandthephantoms @fighttoshine @michelangelinda @queenofthequillandink @random-nerd-3 @silent-silver-slip @apolo81 @evashmz @bagoffriedrice
44 notes · View notes
_-*Soft Sero Headcanons*-_
^ Kisses ^
- A little embarassed at first because his confidence is practically non-existent, but warms up to your love quickly. He feels that way stronger then you think. He is after all considered least attractive amongst the Bakusquad, surprisingly. This causes him to be left alone alot, and talk to Ojiro and Sato. He feels quite lonely. That's why when he felt actual affection from someone else, he teared up a little.
---- Scenario ----
Sero Hanta: 'Hey babe... please don't feel forced! I know my hair is greasy and dry, and lowkey ugly, so please don't feel obligated to-'
You: *Runs your hands through his hair and quietly detangles it*
Sero: *blushing boi* 'Oh! That's nice of you.'
You: 'Don't call your hair ugly, Hanta! I love your hair, regardless of what other people think it looks like! It's fluffy and soft, and it's a satisfying color. It goes perfectly with your outfits and face.'
Sero Hanta: 'Darling... Thank you! I've never felt this loved before, and I didn't think that anyone, especially someone like you could ever love me like you do... So for that, I love you.'
You two cuddled and hugged all day, ending it with a nice movie.
____ Protective Side. ____
- Sero is definitely the silent intimidating boyfriend. He loves to protect in quiet. While someone is flirting or hitting on you, he'd be the type to silently give them the death stare, or openly kiss you. There's an immense amount of protection of you, since your extremely special to him. Sometimes, it can get a little much, but he knows his boundaries, so he tries keeping it to a minimum at all times. He'll become an apologetic mess afterwards when he took it too far, because he knows you get pissy. ( :-()
___ Romantic Hanta ;) ___
You walked home tired, realising dinner has to be done for you and Tape Hero! He had worked all day, and you didn't want him to sleep hungry so you sped home sweating from all the training.
*door unlocks* 'Hey Hanta, I'm home-' you managed to squeeze out before you turned around and saw the scene ahead of you. 'Hello, my love! Welcome home!' Hanta exclaimed, wrapping tape around you and pulling you in. 'How has your day been?' You kiss him on the cheek. 'Good, but why did you do all of this?? Didn't you have work all day?' Sero's mouth formed into a smirk. 'Nothing a nice white lie can't do! I just had to leave to get some nice things, so I hope you enjoy them!'He let you go and stepped back. 'Take a look around and enjoy the view Y/N!' You walked around and your jaw dropped. Roses, eggs and cake in your favourite flavours. Walking over to the living room, you see fresh food from [insert favourite food brand] and you squeal in excitement. 'Babyyy!' You run up to him and rest your head into his chest and relaxing. '..Thank you for taking care of me Hanta.'
He smiles softly. 'I love you darling. I may be busy but I can always fit you into my program. You're important to me.' Cradlling you into his arms he takes you into the chilly room. Hanta lays down on the couch with you on top. 'Cuddles?' You nod shortly. You both fell asleep together.
__ comfort soft angsty __
You sit silently on the couch. Arms crossed, looking down while sobbing dramatically. Normally you'd do this exact thing for his attention, so he came downstairs to provide exactly that.
'Hey darling! You can stop doing that, what's going on?' Hanta noticed you didn't stop or giggle so he moved over quicker with a worried look. 'Dear?' He moved your hair out of the way and went into to caring mode immediately. 'Heyheyhey... It's going to be okay. Come here.' He stood you up and helped you go to the bathroom. He cleaned your face and calmed you down with breathing excorcises. 'It'll be okay, Y/N. Sit down and tell me what's going on.'
You both went up to the bedroom and spent the next hour talking about what was bothering you. Your [E/C] met his Almond eyes and for the first time in a bit you felt genuine concern and love from someone that wasn't your family. You cuddled closer into him. You loved him, he loved you
The Sceptre and the Isle- S.R (pt 2)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND ON MY MASTERLIST -> here
Tags n warnings// Odysseus! Steve Rogers x fem!reader. Angst, fluff, smut in this chapter minors DNI , love triangle, sexism, mentions of war & death & blood, lovers to enemies to lovers I suppose
Summary// the aftermath of Steve’s (the king) return sets in in more than one way. You deal with the impacts of his arrival emotionally and struggle with what it means for your position in posterity to the throne.
Bleeding hearts and betrayal; Aphrodite’s been busy. There should be a self-help book for women whose husbands have walked through Hades’ house and came out clean on the other side.￼
After it transpired last night that yes your husband is in fact alive things became... hectic. Wanda and Natasha were quick to clear the party out and to their guest rooms, for which you were grateful because what the fuck just happened?
Now, early sunlight dappling the dimples of your bare shoulders, you lie next to a still sleeping Steve. The scent of lavender hangs in the air, breeze blows gently through the open windows. It’s serene, the morning atmosphere. And against all odds so are you. Cheek carved craters in your pillow from how your head’s turned to watch him. His arm is hooked under your midriff, warm skin against skin; his fingertips pressed lightly lazily over the curve of your side. Your own fingertips graze over his shoulder, arm draped over his chest as it rises and falls. Remaining guests from last nights festivities whom you can only assume scattered at dawn- disbanding at the first scent of scandal as is the nature of any aristocrat- and the expected absence of any palace staff who (like you) had received the shock of the dead appearing alive and well before them, meant that for the first time in many mornings you could actually hear the birds sing outside.
“Mornin’, my darlin.”
His voice is like gravel, throat tossing stones in his sleep. Blue eyes blinking across at yours, warm and soft and sore from picturing you all that time he was away. Steve places his palm to the back of the hand that you’ve curled over his shoulder, fingers fitting perfectly between your own: lock ‘n key. The way he’s smiling at you right now makes you wonder if the stars are shining in your eyes. He snakes his arm from under you, brushes your hair behind your ear. You smile right back.
Turning over onto your back, Steve leans over you to touch his lips to yours. Sunlight bathes your fingers as you brush the tips over his shoulder blades, pulling him closer to you. Settling on one forearm, he holds your face with his free hand and swipes his tongue between your lips. Soft linen sheets under you shift as you wrap your legs around his waist and he moves his hand to brush your night gown up your body.
Light feather kisses along your jawline and down your neck where he buries his face to take in your scent for a moment. His fingers follow the curves of your silhouette stopping to wrap around your thigh. Salt air settles on the mosaic tile; Steve settles between your legs. He circles his thumb over your clit, pressure pulsing harder in your body when he nips and sucks at your neck. Sharp and shallow breaths.
A soft moan escapes your lips: a symphony Steve thinks Apollo couldn’t hope to rival. Its just enough to break whatever control he’s holding onto and he pulls his fingers from you to grip onto your hip, steadying himself against you as he pushes himself in. Hips slotted together like the bricks in the tower of Babylon, the blonde rocks his body against yours still sucking on your neck. He moves with the waves; you sing like the birds.
Sweat glistens on your forehead, dew on morning grass, as you bury your face in the crook of Steve’s neck afterwards. Catching your breath together, yours and his slow in sync. He whispers that he loves you into your hair before you get up and ready for the day.
Transitioning from tracking tax inflation to planting petunias is like salt to spring water. You fight the resentment of having to fall into line behind your beloved, who seems to have assumed his former position with little thought to the upkeep of it you’ve assumed while he was away.
“Perhaps you’d like a hand, your majesty?”
Thor Odinson: Crete royalty, your neighbour to the west and (up until late) competitor of your hand. The recent departure of his wife made him a favourable suitor with Ithaca’s palace council.
“Your highness, I thought you took your leave this morning?”
“Ah no. My ships captain has been taken ill and so my departure will unfortunately be delayed. I hope my presence won’t impart too much on your family. Here-“ he shifts to your side to helps you manoeuvre a gardening fork between a couple of peonies. His tall and broad figure casts a shadow over the flower bed that shrouds your own. “Does your palace not have servants to perform these menial tasks on your behalf?”
“We do but I much prefer to do this myself, you see. I find it calms me.”
Your reply seems to satisfy him as he hums lowly. When you step back and look up to meet his face, you’re closer to him than you thought.
“That’s an admirable quality, my lady.” Thor smiles at you. His eyes twinkle in the daylight like the andromeda constellation; you don’t know if you should smile back or run the other way. Natasha makes that choice for you when she calls you into the palace halls, your presence requested by the council. Petunias rippling against the breeze, he watches you leave.
“I’m afraid it is more complicated than that, your majesty. Your prolonged absence has left us wading in uncharted waters. Your lack of a son meant the Queen herself had to assume a position of royal absoluteness... and I suppose that a lot more of your constituents approved of her reign than we initially anticipated.” Coulson delivers the message with conviction, however his assured disposition is betrayed by how his hands rub together, anticipating a volatile reaction.
Steve seems as perplexed as you. “And what exactly does that mean, Senator?”
The council exchanges apprehensive glances. They seem to pass the responsibility of replying from one to the other like hot coal. Fury is first to speak, ever the horse that takes himself to the water, decides himself to drink.
“Despite what we have gained in terms of population, our losses still remain innumerable. And while the Isle is nothing if not blessed to receive back our true king, it is an undeniable fact that public opinion majorly sides with our Queen remaining primary ruler of the citadel.”
In all the great orchestral pieces, theres always a few seconds of quiet before the melody drops. So when the room erupts into chaos, obnoxious voices reverberating from the stone arches like notes being passed in class, you’re thankful for the moment of silence that preceded it.
“He is the king, Hill. To deny him the throne is treason!”
“And what kind of a message does it send to our enemies to have a woman leading our people and her husband on the sidelines?!”
“Nevertheless, we can’t ignore the facts: the people’s loyalties lie with her majesty!”
“Even you have to admit it, May: the Queens situation was never supposed to be permanent.”
In light of your lover’s return, your dynasty has crumbled to the ground in a heap of rock and ash, ornaments of your success once brandished in gold and silver now melted to metallic syrup. And in the wake of the rubble, cast in marble that death itself could not crack, Steve Rogers stands his ground.
There’s a saying passed around in Ithaca. One that came from an old philosopher, Hesiod.
It will not always be summer; gather the harvest while you can.
You think this wisdom applies to your predicament. Only, you can’t quite figure if the summer is the memory of your short lived reign or Steve. Steve with golden hair falling away from a sun kissed face; the freckles in his smile and all the spring seasons you’ve shared. A soul with whom your life starts and your autonomy ends. A man who has taken your love as willingly as he has taken your freedom. Someone whose very presence here and now marks the end of your acknowledgment as anything but a trophy wife.
Where’s Hera to bless the home and hearth when you need her?
I’m gna introduce Bucky and Sam real soon guysss <3
27 notes · View notes
type: fluff + she collapses into aomine’s awaiting arms
word count: 0.7k
summary: The exhaustion rolls off in waves, but he’s still there. —Aomine/Reader
If there’s one thing she can say she’s dedicated to – other than hassling Aomine – it’s training.
She has never been that girl. The athlete. The one that loves sports more than she does humans. The one that sweats, breathes and lives for the thrill of adrenaline that comes with winning. No, she has never been that girl. But, one day one of her childhood friends introduced her to mixed martial arts—something about self-defense and stress and things have never been the same since.
She loves getting off on the fact that she can take care of herself, the taste of independence, coupled with freedom and glee.
She can’t say she’s competitive because there are tournaments, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she doesn’t like winning—who doesn’t like winning? It’s just not the most important thing to her. However, because of lack of funding and resources for her mixed martial arts club, if they don’t get a seat in the inter-high tournaments, the club will be dissolved.
So now she has to win; there are no other options.
She’ll leave practice right around dinner, face flushed and legs trembling with the exertion it takes to hold herself upwards. She’ll smile at the juniors as she locks up and grabs her bag from the bench. She’ll roll her shoulders and sigh when she walks down the stairs from the gym. She’ll swing her bag into the crook of her elbow, sweat matting the back of her neck and she will feel the weariness hit her bones just after she crosses the street.
She’ll bump into Aomine without thinking or maybe, he bumps into her on purpose.
“What are you doing out here so late?” she blinks at him blearily and rubs the side of her face in an effort to compose her tiredness.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Aomine drawls, he doesn’t let her go, his arms lay lax around her waist, her head on his chest – when did it get like that? – and he looks down at her, “Shouldn’t you be at home?”
“I was training,” she rolls her eyes, “You’d know about that if you actually went to practice.”
Aomine’s eyes widens, “This late? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I can’t help it,” she wants to curl herself into him, in the middle of the busy street, where the city lights blur into a multitude of colors, “If we don’t secure a spot in the inter-high, we’re going to have the close the club.”
He goes silent, sliding a hand up her upper back to rest on the crown of her head and then he sighs. He releases her, turns around and crouches below, “Get on, I think Miki’s is still open.”
She blinks, “Aomine, it’s fine. I can go home—”
“You’re dead on your feet,” Aomine says bluntly, he twists his head, navy strands hooking against the back of his hood and he continues, “If you go home, you’re going to drop asleep. You need to hydrate and eat. I’m not going to leave you half-dead in the middle of the street.”
She glares at him.
“C’mon,” he sighs and turns back, “I’ll even get you a milkshake.”
Slowly, she gets on, and yelps when he moves so quickly. Her legs tighten around his waist, arms nearly choking him until he adjusts his grip on the back of her thighs and her fingers interlock with each other.
“Easy,” Aomine soothes her and shifts her weight with his hands, “I got you.”
She digs her chin into his shoulder, the scent from his sweater engulfing her in a warm embrace, and she says, “I might fall asleep.”
“No, you’re not,” he snorts and bounces her up as he waits for the streetlight to go off, “If you fall asleep, I might just dump your milkshake on you.”
“I will scream,”
“I’ve gotten used to Satsuki’s shriek of horror when she sees my magazines, I think I’ll be okay,”
She leans in until her lips brush his jawline – his hands tighten around her thighs – and she almost grins when she hears his breath hitch, “Momoi-san’s not in your ear, is she?”
49 notes · View notes
The mangled hands (SherlockxReader) - # 6
beware: this is one of the pure smut chapters...
#6 - the result
"Let go of me, now!" you hiss at him as his warm hands trembling hold your breasts. His response, however, is a squeeze that already throws you so off your game that you lean toward him at first. However, as his hands push further up, displacing your towel so that it slides down your body and lands on the floor beside you, your head becomes clear again.
"Sherlock! Let go of me!" you say louder now and take a step back, even though it's not easy to break free from his tight grip.
So now you're standing there: Naked, trembling with desire, but with the firm conviction to make him suffer for experimenting with you behind your back.
You close your eyes with a deep breath, because it's hard for you to concentrate on your real goal when you keep looking at him.
He is trembling, as are you, but the effect of the root leaves visible marks on him, so he can't talk his way out of it. He has lost all control over his body. And every sign of this makes it harder for you to go through with your plan.
When you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is his gaze. He looks at you with a mixture of lust, but also agony, exactly what you wanted to achieve.
Now all you have to do is turn around, walk to the bedroom, get dressed and leave. But it's not just his gaze that captivates you. By the fact that Sherlock always has the first buttons of his shirt open, you can see that there are beads of sweat on his chest, which become more with each passing second. The very fact that his chest is expanding more with each breath, the buttons fighting even more than they already do, would already be enough. But then there is the giant boner that is showing in his pants, so you are sure that it must be very uncomfortable for him.
After another moment in which he couldn't take his eyes off your body, he opens his mouth, closes it again without saying anything, and then wants to walk towards you, which you immediately prevent by stomping towards him gasping. Before you can say anything, though, scold him for what he's done, you have to collect yourself again. Because you're way too close to him. His aftershave in perfect harmony with his own scent, his warmth radiating towards you, his boner so close to your core. At first, all this brings you a little out of the concept. Then, as he pushes himself a bit closer to you, and you can feel his bulge against your clit, anger flares up in you again, and you begin to tap your finger hard on his chest.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" you yell at him, forcing his face to you again with your other hand as his gaze begins to move over your body.
As your eyes meet, you think you detect something like remorse in his eyes, but quickly dismiss it when his hands settle on your waist, trembling. He's desperate, he wants redemption, it's driving him crazy. You wouldn't even have to look at him for that, because you feel it yourself.
"I trusted you! I thought...I really thought you gave me the orchids because you wanted to please me, and not to confirm some bullshit myth...If you had at least asked me..." With each word, your eyes grow wetter as you realize more and more that it's actually not anger that's controlling you, but more disappointment. That he went behind your back instead of talking to you. That with this action he has destroyed a large piece of trust between you that needs to be rebuilt in painstaking work.
"I... It would have falsified the result... this way it is confirmed that the black orchid really has a clear effect...and is not a placebo..." he laughs anxiously and closes his eyes for a moment. By now, sweat is also on his forehead, so that his black curls stick heavily on his forehead. It's a bit satisfying for you to see him like this, even if on the other hand you already feel a bit sorry for him. It serves him right that he has to suffer now.
"YN... please..." he pleads in a hoarse voice, and his grip on your waist tightens as he presses his hips against you with a moan. Frowning, you look at him, for this is not a moan as you know it from Sherlock. It's not laced with lust, but pure desperation. A plea from his body for you to help him get better.
"No, Sherlock! Maybe now you know how shitty I've been the last few days and that it really sucks to put a drug in someone. What would you have done if I had an allergic reaction? Or passed out because of a panic attack when you weren't there?....I don't know if I can trust you anymore. " Your voice is soaked with anger, not just at him but at yourself. That you've been so damn blind, that you haven't become skeptical. And somewhere a quiet voice creeps in as well, that you're not one bit better than him, but you push it back again shaking your head.
"Please...I...it hurts like hell...I'm begging you...Help me..." he gasps at you, and you flinch as his forehead leans heavy on yours. You look at him and realize that he is getting more and more restless with each passing second. And the voice that was so quiet a moment ago is becoming more and more noticeable.
He has his eyes closed, his breath trembling, as do his hands against your skin as he presses his hips against you again and again.
When your fingertips touch his neck, he lets out a soft whimper, so you soothe him in reflex as you try to feel his pulse.
"Sherlock... Maybe we'd better get you to a hospital..." you mumble, trying to push yourself away from him. You realize that all of this, no matter what a good actor he is, is real. It's really torturing him, from the high dose you gave him, probably a lot more than it's torturing you.
"No...they can't help me...only you can...please" he pleads again, pushing his head between your shoulders and your neck as he holds you close.
As his rough lips hit the skin on your neck, you curse under your breath as your resistance melts faster than a stick of butter in a hot pan at that second.
"I'm serious...Maybe a doctor really should...Oh God, Sherlock!" you scream out as his fingers find the quickest way into your vagina and, without you being able to mentally prepare yourself, he starts pumping into you while his other hand keeps you from running away from him.
But if you're honest, you don't even want that anymore. Not when he brings up that tingling something inside you that, within a few thrusts, turns into a monster that threatens to tear you apart. As it rushes over you, you claw at its shirt in search of help, so much so that a few buttons have to say goodbye and land unnoticed on the floor.
As your legs give way in the wake of the sensation because he can't stop thrusting into you, he doesn't hold you. He lets you sink to your knees, moaning as his fingers slide out of you and your breasts graze his crotch.
"Please.... Help me..." he whispers as he holds your head and runs a trembling thumb over your lips. His gaze is moist, and as you undo the button of his pants and his zipper, his eyebrows furrow a bit. As you carefully pull down his pants and his hard cock literally jumps in your face, you're finally convinced that he's not just suffering because he's horny, but because it really hurts him.
Every single vein stands out on his cock, which keeps twitching in search of the redeeming touch. His tip is already glistening with precum, and as you place just your fingertips around him, a moaning hiss escapes him.
"Sherlock, we really should go to the hospital..." you urge him again, but your argument is stopped by his hand guiding his cock to your lips. With hesitation, he pushes his hips whimpering closer to you, hoping you'll part your lips for him and give him release.
It's not like usual, him letting his dominant side hang out, guiding your head to him with the pressure of his hand, making you want to suck him off. His whole behavior, his whole posture is a single plea, a begging, a prayer to you to finally show mercy.
As you close your hand around him, it confirms what you already suspected when you freed his cock a moment ago. He is much harder than usual, and that is anything but enjoyable for him.
With every movement of your hand he moans out again, his hand on your cheek trembles more and more. As your tongue touches his tip, spreading your spit so he can slide into your mouth easier, he holds his breath for a moment, and you don't know if it's from pain or sensation. Or maybe it's a mixture of both, because in all your time with him you've noticed one thing: He's into the bittersweet pain, and he demands it silently every now and then.
But this is something else. You become even more aware of that when you let him slide into your mouth a few times and taste the bitter flavor of his cum on your tongue after only such a short time. This is not like Sherlock, not someone who wants to savor such moments for as long as possible.
After a few more slow movements, and when you notice that he's losing some of his hardness, you finally release his cock from the wet, hot place and slowly straighten up. But somehow it didn't have the effect you were hoping for, because with the exception of his cock still being pretty hard, nothing has changed.
"I have to...It's not helping...I...Please...let me...I do need to fuck you..." he whimpers, and you let his words sink into a kiss. You startle, because from his frantic breathing and constant wetting with his tongue, his lips are cold. Not just cool, but really cold, so it fuels your concern for him even more.
Your eyes widen as he begins to thrust his hips towards you again, and you can feel his cock, rock hard again, against your skin.
"Fuck..." you curse out in a low voice, because the voice in your head can't be turned down now. This is your fault, because you were pissed, and you wanted so badly to get back at him. Because you wanted to make him suffer.
You achieved your goal, but stupidly it doesn't give you the satisfaction you were hoping for.
You don't really register him pushing you further and further towards the kitchen. Only when his hands grab your ass and lift you onto the tabletop is your mind catapulted back into the here and now. Stunned, you stare at all the papers he's carelessly shoved onto the floor, leaving only the heavy microscope on the wooden top.
"Don't stop trusting me..." he gasps into your lips as he pushes his cock between your lips and rams into you in a thrust that knocks all air out of your lungs.
He doesn't wait for you to adjust his length or to correct your position, but pushes into you again and again in fast and hard thrusts, as you don't know it from him. And as it was just the case with him, so it happens to you now. Already after a few thrusts your walls start to massage his cock, but he is far from being at the end.
Gasping, his fingers claw into your scalp, pressing his forehead harder against yours, while he incessantly makes sure that you have no chance to recover from your orgasm, while the next one is already breaking over you.
All the while he holds your gaze, and as he pushes further into you, you see a rarity. Something that very few people have seen on him yet: Real, true, authentic tears. Caused by bittersweet pain that turns into a sensation that even Sherlock Holmes doesn't know how to handle.
But even as you ponder how long he can sustain this destruction, you suddenly feel his hand on the back of your neck, gripping so tightly that you are unable to move. At first, a sense of shock surrounds you, triggering this rigidity, but the more his fingers dig into your neck, the stronger and more intense the monster of sensation in your belly becomes.
Each of his thrusts seems to force a hoarse moan from your throat, and as his moans grow louder and your name hits your lips in a whisper, his gaze suddenly widens.
"Oh god...YN...This is the.... The best thing that I...oh yes..." he moans out loud, and as his teeth sink into your bottom lip, you can feel the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. As he stops deep inside you, and his grip on your neck lightens, you moan low. Because you can't just feel the twitch of his cock inside you like usual. It's so much more. You can feel every inch of his cum making its way from his balls through his cock and then spreading hot against your cervix, making you shiver all over your body.
But what you also realize is that it has helped him. Because now his cock is getting soft as usual, not like before. You can hear his relief in every breath he takes, in every touch that so gently hits your skin and makes you feel like you're floating.
"Ohh... um... maybe you should wear a scarf for the next few days..." he remarks while clearing his throat, as he slowly rises from you. With a blank gaze, you stare at him, knowing exactly what he means. Slowly you raise your hand, reach for your neck and are relieved that at least you don't feel anything. An unfamiliar feeling spreads through you as you think about what he has just done to you. And you find it even creepier that it turned you on even more than a lot of other things.
"Yeah, it's probably better..." you reply with hesitation, watching with a frown as Sherlock pulls away from you and starts digging through the papers half-naked. You don't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight, so you get off the table without further ado.
You have to hold his pants out to him twice before he even registers you. Although you're not sure he was just looking to you because he finally has the document he wants in his hands.
"Are you okay?" you ask cautiously, taking the piece of paper in your hand with the exact description of the black orchid written on it. He nods only barely as he straightens his pants, taking the paper back to himself when he finally closed them.
"Um..Sherlock? What exactly is going on?" you ask with a bit more vigor, following behind him as he walks into the living room. You curse in a low voice as he reaches for his coat by the door and throws it over.
"My mind... It's working smoother than ever, more specific, more focused... Thanks YN... I know where to look now..." he gasps as he ties his scarf around himself and wants to say goodbye with a fleeting kiss on your forehead, but you prevent that as you hold him by the sleeve.
"If you do that to me again, I'll make you suffer next time, sweetheart. And now, go and catch the killer" The threat doesn't come across as potent as you had wanted it to, but that's due to the fact that you can understand his reaction. Even if you're a little confused by the fact that he's thanking you. But even if you wanted to, you couldn't think about it anymore. Because unlike his mind, yours is so in relaxation mode that you just want to enjoy the feeling and decide to lie down in bed.
29 notes · View notes
How They Cheer Themselves Up When They Feel Unmotivated [Avillon NPCs]
I hope you discover new methods here that help you when you feel down ^^
He starts by identifying the source of the problem. Rouin has trouble identifying his emotions, so he takes some time to self-reflect
Sometimes, there’s no source and he’s just having a down day
Rouin has a lot of work, so he can’t really take a break. This isn’t because Lord doesn’t allow him, it’s because Rouin himself doesn’t want to leave his work in the hands of others
What he does ask for is extensions for deadlines, and for someone to be assigned to assist him in work
Once he gets more time, he makes schedules and checklists to utilize it the most. Rouin has an unhealthy schedule, so he puts in time for workouts and sleep.
Organizing his day before it starts is really satisfying for him and already motivates him
He isn’t as fit as the knights; he’s actually really underweight. Working out when underweight is unhealthy, so he eats more than he normally does.
He eats a lot of sweets because sugar contains more energy. Don’t get me wrong, he eats a balance of foods, but when it’s a down day, doughnuts and candy really help.
Working out is his favourite way to relieve stress. He hates sweating, but once he’s done, he’s refreshed and ready to get back to work
His emotional health is like a reflection of his physical health.
He knows that confiding in others is the best way to deal with down days, but he likes putting up a strong, reliable front, even when he’s alone.
But having someone special like Lord who casually motivates him with “Take care of yourself”s and “Do your best”s helps him more than he admits.
Cannae’s mood can be seen by how many times she fails when upgrading equipment
She might be playful and purposely fail sometimes for gold, but when it isn’t on purpose, she starts beating herself up for not being good enough
I think that she gets self-conscious really easily, which affects her work, which causes her to beat herself up more, and it’s a full cycle
Her mood affects everyone who is a mile radius from her. Anyone can tell that she feels down, but when she’s confronted about it, she denies it.
She’ll never admit that she feels down so Lord will have to take initiative.
It has to be Lord, Rouin, or Lyn. If it’s someone else, Cannae will become really difficult to handle.
Lord has to give her easier equipment to upgrade and shower her with approval for her to feel a little better
Sometimes, Cannae needs to vent and scream to feel a bit better.
That little bit is what opens her eyes to why she feels down. It’s not because she isn’t good enough, it’s because she needs to self-improve
Setting goals for her improvement is what helps her the most
Of course, she doesn’t like the setting goal process and needs Lord to help
But when she achieves those goals, she feels like she can do anything in the world
Whenever Cannae falls, she might lay low for a moment, but then she jumps up higher than before
The most important thing is having someone who is willing to spend time on helping her feel better. Without them, she would never be able to get back up again.
Aries and Rouin are the most similar characters in the entire game
They want to look strong to themselves and others and repress their emotions, if they’re able to identify them at all.
I don’t think that Aries even likes being happy. I don’t mean that in an edgy way or anything.
You know how happiness makes your heart go faster and your body feel warm and full? Aries finds the feeling icky and disgusting.
He also hates it because it clouds his mind and that makes him feel vulnerable.
But he definitely doesn’t like being unmotivated, it drives him crazy.
He’s a loner so once he is able to figure out that he isn’t feeling good, he’ll figure out a fix
He doesn’t like someone finding out that he’s feeling down, because he labels negative emotions as vulnerability
What he needs the most is someone to treat him like normal, not go out of their way to make him feel better. If he needs alone time, he’ll request it himself.
He might even get a bit talkative with someone he’s relaxed around. It serves as great distraction and helps him take the first step to getting back on his feet. I’m looking at you, Lord.
Then he goes out of the way to make others happier. He does it subtly so no one can trace the acts of kindness back to him. Seeing others happy because of him is like medicine to his mental health.
If you find out that he’s discreetly helped you, don’t thank him or tell others. Don’t feel like you owe him or treat him with extra kindness. Just don’t acknowledge it at all. Please. He wants to be sure that he’s helping out of kindness, not for others’ approval.
For Aurea, unmotivation isn’t not feeling like doing anything. Unmotivation for Aurea is not getting new ideas for designs.
That drives her nuts. Designing clothes and making others feel good in what they wear makes her happy, so it’s like her brain is hindering her from happiness.
When this happens, Aurea has to force herself to face the fact that she won’t get new ideas by continuously trying and failing.
Instead, she gets out old clothes she’s made and washes them by hand. She doesn’t like doing chores either, but seeing her old works up close reminds her of the time she was making them.
It also shows her how much she has improved from before.
Normally, doing this ignites a spark in her brain and she’s back at work as if nothing happened.
But if it doesn’t, she looks at other designers’ works for inspiration.
Her mind normally wanders off thinking of what the designer was inspired by when designing, and that normally points her to the right direction.
Aurea normally looks at works from designers who are better than her.
Sometimes, she invites designers she looks up to for tea and talks with them about whatever. It’s barely sometimes that they touch on the topic of designing clothes.
She’s open with her emotions, so she’s okay with asking them what they do when they feel unmotivated.
It never intimidates her, it’s more of a bonus dose of motivation. It sets new standards for her which she knows that she can reach.
Plus, those designers also started somewhere. If they got where they are now, then so can she.
I think it’s pretty much canon that Lord prefers to shoulder stress than share it
They don’t want others to suffer because of the mistakes they made, so they prefer to remain silent and sort out the problem themselves
Even if it isn’t their fault, I think they’d still keep their emotions to themselves so others don’t have to carry the burden with them
Lord just wants everyone to be happy ok
But that vulnerability is exactly what connects the knights in the first place
It reminds them that Lord is just another human being. The only thing that makes them different is their determination to create a fair and happy world.
Not only that, it strengthens their bond with their fellow knights. They swore to protect Lord, and making sure that Lord is happy is just one of their duties. Whenever Lord seems down, the knights are active in communicating with each other to sort out a solution.
For Lord, the advice serves to show them how their knights view them. The advice a person gives is a reflection of their mindset.
Not only that, it also serves as a reflection of Lord. The advice a person gives differs depending on who they are giving it to.
This motivates them to go ask. Not straighforwardly; they ask questions in roundabout ways to get that advice
Like “What do you do when you’re having a bad day?” or “If I’m at a fork in the road, what advice would you give me?”
Yeah they’re terrible at hiding their emotions
It’s the advice they receive that really helps them get back up
All in all, Lord relies on the people around them if they aren’t at the best point in their life. It normally has more than one positive result.
This was just a recollection of extreme story lol
It isn’t wrong to feel depressed and unmotivated. Emotions are okay. What matters is how you deal with them.
Tysm for reading! Take care of yourself.
18 notes · View notes
For drabble night: “Did you just slap my ass?” / “Actually, I firmly grasped it.” / “Did you just quote Spongebob?” 🙏
jimin x reader
tw: smut, unprotected sex, oral sex
Sneaking around wasn’t what you had planned to do when you arrived at the party, but all that changed when you’d seen Jimin. You didn’t protest too much when he took your hand and led you to his bedroom, making sure nobody paid the two of you any mind.
“We’re supposed to be out there at the housewarming,” you remind him as he presses you against the door of his room.
“We are warming the house. We’re just starting with my bed,” he responds with a cocky smile, lips pressing kisses on your neck as he holds your hips.
“Uh-huh,” you hum in response, fighting the urge to moan when his teeth nip at your neck. Your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer.
“Do we have time to fuck?” Jimin asks as he moves you away from the door to lead you to his bed. He’s never been more thankful that you’ve worn a skirt than in this moment.
You turn to climb on the bed, “probably not.”
Jimin stares blatantly at your ass, slapping it.
You look at him over your shoulder, “did you just slap my ass?”
“Actually, I firmly grasped it,” Jimin retorts, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing.
“Did you just quote Spongebob?”
“What if I did?” Jimin chuckles.
“Then I’ll leave,” you giggle, rolling your eyes before pulling your panties to the side after throwing your skirt over your hips. You balance on one arm, using your other hand to push two of your fingers into your pussy, moaning softly.
Jimin’s eyes widen, mouthwatering at the sight of you fingering yourself. You spread your legs further, rocking into your fingers and moaning his name. Jimin snaps out of the trance you’ve put him in, unzipping his jeans and climbing onto his bed behind you. He watches you for a moment longer, licking his lips before his fingers are teasingly stroking your inner thighs.
“So pretty,” he murmurs to himself as he leans in closer, kissing your thighs and gripping your hips. A low moan escapes you when you feel his lips beside your fingers, tongue meeting them.
“Jimin,” you moan his name. Your eyes flutter shut, backing up into Jimin. He holds you, eagerly pressing his lips against you, moaning when your arousal coats his tongue. He wants you so bad, but he can’t have anyone catching the two of you. The both of you were testing out this relationship, didn’t want to involve your friends until you were sure you were serious about each other. That thought was easily lost as his tongue flicked against your clit.
You wanted him to devour you, eat you whole if he could. But you were on a time crunch and you wanted to feel his cock stretching you open, fucking you and filling you with cum. The thought alone is enough for a lewd moan to escape you, begging him to fuck you.
Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice as he palms his cock before aligning himself at your entrance and pushing in. He curses, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he fucks into you, his fingers brushing your clit as your thighs quiver. You bite down on his pillow, muffling your moans as he fills you to the brim with each thrust.
He spanks you again and again, groaning when you fuck back into him. Your pulsating cunt is driving him wild, his teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip, head thrown back as a long guttural groan escapes him. He’s approaching his high, and he wants to take you with him as he rubs your clit faster.
His name tumbles from your lips in soft cries, begging him to make you cum. He does so, moaning your name as he finds his release shortly after you. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, fixing your panties after he pulls out.
“Jimin, I can’t go out there like this!”
“Yes you can,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips as he adjusts his clothing and helps you off the bed. You rolls your eyes at him but fix your skirt before following him out of his bedroom.
“You know, you’re not as quiet as you think you are,” Hoseok states bluntly when the two of you rejoin the party. You avoid your friends’ gazes, chugging a glass of wine instead.
16 notes · View notes