#Like ofc write what u write and don't like don't read

[maraudersidk]

The next gen era has sm potential but people just don't wanna see it. Like what i love about them is there's not alot of canon and even CC is usually ignored so u can literally write whatever.

And they don't have a war looming over them unlike their parents and grandparents they can enjoy their childhood (unlike their parents) and their adulthood (unlike their grandparents)

Also i feel like because of this it's such a nice area to represent neurodivergent characters because i feel like even tho most characters were not neurotypical they didn't get the chance to have the freedom to understand that part of them because they were well yk dying

I have so many hcs and if i could write i would so many fics but my pacing is so bad, but lwk this makes me want to write oneshots for my rair pairs.

Also i may or may not have made post of them gay but like who's gonna stop me😝🤷🏻‍♀️

[astraystayyh]

this is me reading btw if u wanted to know I LOVE UUUUUUUUUU I LOVE USER FELIXSBAKINGBUD I LOVE THEM 💓💘💗💘💗💘💗💘💗💗💘💗💘

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33. 

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear. 

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory. 

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse. 

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance. 

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you. 

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago. 

Day 17. 

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade. 

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores. 

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes. 

He knows you better than you know yourself. 

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands. 

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from. 

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you. 

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.” 

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head. 

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again. 

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you. 

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you. 

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19. 

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement. 

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.  

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.  

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.” 

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask. 

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently. 

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?” 

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.” 

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment. 

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé. 

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out. 

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms. 

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope. 

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto. 

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating. 

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in. 

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back. 

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night. 

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you. 

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?” 

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure. 

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles. 

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door. 

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place. 

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up? 

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you. 

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-” 

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.” 

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you. 

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach. 

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls. 

Day 22. 

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart. 

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.” 

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.” 

“I can try.” 

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.  

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles. 

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him. 

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle. 

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago. 

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?” 

“Of course. I promise you.” 

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear. 

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers. 

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm. 

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road. 

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart. 

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light. 

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit. 

“What?” he asks, confused. 

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify. 

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.” 

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words. 

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.  

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face. 

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression. 

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running. 

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again. 

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content. 

“You did.” 

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands. 

“Of course.” 

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to. 

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.” 

Day 26. 

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads. 

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more. 

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin. 

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest. 

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought. 

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.” 

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within. 

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals. 

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door. 

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for. 

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you. 

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.” 

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more? 

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were. 

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.                          

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks. 

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart. 

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words. 

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle. 

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words. 

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side. 

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder. 

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second. 

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing. 

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips. 

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly. 

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends. 

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?” 

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.” 

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out. 

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along. 

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle. 

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs. 

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks. 

“N-nothing,” you stammer. 

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you. 

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you? 

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out. 

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.  

And he loves you. 

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for? 

How many more days do you have to love him back? 

Day 30. 

Minho is sick. 

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face. 

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind. 

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented. 

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow. 

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on. 

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers. 

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering. 

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you. 

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?” 

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet. 

“Anything.” 

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly. 

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to. 

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea. 

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm. 

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you. 

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows. 

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted. 

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds. 

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days. 

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again. 

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean? 

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep. 

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name. 

He prayed you’d call his too soon. 

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean? 

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips. 

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of. 

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways. 

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh. 

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?” 

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh. 

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.  

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card. 

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify. 

“Hey, yn!” 

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them. 

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.  

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run. 

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey. 

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat. 

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by? 

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be. 

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both. 

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all. 

Day 33. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” 

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?” 

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him. 

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table. 

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here. 

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines. 

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger. 

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.” 

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you. 

“But how does that make you feel?” 

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.” 

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.” 

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?” 

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.  

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.” 

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Yn, he brought you back to life.” 

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?” 

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.  

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core. 

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table. 

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder. 

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around. 

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it. 

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart. 

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room. 

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind. 

“Minho?” 

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to. 

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.  

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again. 

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho. 

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.  

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one. 

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?” 

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.” 

[i-cant-sing]

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

[thessaralka]

Solas romance is basically:

Inquisitor: hey Solas:. …. Inky: I gotchu boo bear ❤️ Solas: choking th-thank you? Inky:… ;) you're not like other girls Solas: I - no I’m not. Thank u for noticing. Inky: ;;;) Solas: ur hot and I’m into u and I might plausibly want to test that theory Inky: choking Inky: so u have feelings for me? Solas: n-noo Inky: tests that theory Solas: fade tongue

Solas: moaning oh hehe this is a dream btw ~ Inky: wow. Hot. sooo. Wanna? Solas: there are....considerations. like mythal's geas over me which is heavily implied in the subcontext throughout my entire narrative arc. Inky:……. U don’t have to do this alone. I felt your tongue in my mouth. I said I gotchu.

Inky: I SAIDDDD I gotchu. Solas: choking vhenan ar lath ma I haven’t and will never forget that kiss smooching noises Inky: damn alright mf Solas: vhenan ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Solas: wow I love sex and parties reminds me of the good ol days let's dance babe Inky: ??? Solas: in the fade ofc. I don't party. Inky: o-okay Solas: mythal's temple…. It's all coming back…. Memories of my pa- the fade. you really cannot rely on friends at all. untrustworthy mfs Inky: ??? damn you're being negative as hell right now you tryina fuc Solas: no. Actually, Yes. Come with me vhenan. Solas: I have so much to tell you. Choking the truth. Your face. The Dalish are but simple fools - Inky: what the fuck Solas: kissing and grabbing ass, choking back tears we cannot. Your duty - I am but a distraction crying Vhenan: … I said whatever you're going thru you don't have to go thru alone. I meant that. Wyd? I love you. Don't leave me. Let's be worms together. Solas: choking and crying I'm such a piece of shit vhenan I can't Vhenan: 😭😭😭😭???????? Vhenan: 😡😡😡😡!!!!!!!!!!!

Solas: heartbroken and wracked with so much guilt on main Cole: all you have to do is tell her. she thinks it's her fault why don't you just tell her? Solas: I'm a piece of shit Cole please stop trying to help me I'm unlovable Vhenan: 💔💔💔???? Solas: harden your heart and use that pain against C-Corypheus. Solas: wh-what we had was real vhenan 😭😭💔💔😭 Solas: leaves Vhenan: 🚬😭 what the fuck even was that

Vhenan: Cullen wyd Vhenan: nevermind. Ew

Vhenan 2 years later: *putting on a clown nose* wdym Solas is an agent of Fen'Harel. Of course. He has been helping us all along ☝🏻😍 Everyone except Cole: you stupid bitch Cole: you see him ❤️ Vhenan: Solas idgaf that you're the dread wolf you should have trusted me. Solas: ….. I'm such a bastard. Solas: I'm going to tear down the veil and kill you and everyone you love. Vhenan: *in full clown makeup* let me help you Solas. You don't have to do his alone. I am literally just as crazy as you. Solas: choking I walk the din'anshiral vhenan I can't let you love me when I'm like this. Vhenan: you stupid mf. I will save you from yourself. Solas: choking and crying my love~ kissing sounds Solas: sobbing I will never forget you…. But you should forget me… I'm such a loser and horrible person. Bye Vhenan: this stupid mf. I will find his ass and make him see.

Solas for 8 years: writing vhenan unsent letters and reading smut and painting murals about it all emo Vhenan: wearing clown makeup this stupid mf. I love him still. Rook: damn okay. Vhenan: *putting on clown shoes* can we save him from himself at this point in time maybe? Morrigan: thinking with your pussy Inquisitor? Vhenan: I have literally never stopped thinking with my pussy from the moment I saw him

Vhenan: Solas, stop. Solas: choking vhenan what are you doing here? I am a peice of shit. Vhenan: Idgaf. You're my peice of shit. Solas: I cannot stop. I am under a geas by Mythal and the writers didn't want to extrapolate on that further even though it is the only thing that makes my character motivations make sense 💔 Mythal: I release you from my service btw. Solas: wow suddenly I am free to make descisions that align with my morals and values. Crazy. Rook: wack. I wanted to punch you. Solas: I will go and seek atonement. Vhenan: not alone you aren't. Solas: crying where I am going is terrible vhenan. Vhenan: I SAID I GOTCHU. WE GOING TO THE BLIGHTED ASS BLACK CITY TOGETHER TO BE WORMS ETERNAL. AND IT WILL BE FINE BECAUSE I SAID SO. Kissing noises Solas: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thanks for bringing my woman back to me Rook, serving your only narrative purpose ❤️. Rook: whatever. Vhenan: ;)))) ❤️

[reeniecon]

- YOU'RE A GIRL??! -

Riddle roseheart, Trey clover, cater diamond, ace trappola , deuce spade.

----------------------------------------------------------

😮‍💨‼️ : fem reader, imperfect grammar

A/n: this is a remake/rewrite from my OLD OLD Fanfic in my old blog ( I hate that writing so much I want to puke)

My other fanfic

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Riddle roseheart

" [Name] I beg of you to do not ignore rule 534, you've broken that rule 2 times already... I won't be easy on you for the 3rd time " Riddle remained you gently (passive-aggressive actually)

" As I read the rule book and searched about rule 534 it writes here that a woman is an exception in this rule!! So yeah~ "

But you're not a-

...

WAIT

WHAT

WHAT DID YOU SAY???! A WOMAN CAN WHAT, HUH DOES THAT MEAN THAT YOU'RE A WOMAN?

How this is a boy's boarding school how did you get here???!!

Not only that you're a magicless student but also a woman? ( in all-boys schools)

Ah, you must have felt so uncomfortable...

Ugh, what did the magic mirror do...

After that day riddle pays closer attention to you

He wants you to be comfortable at least he can assure you that in his own dormitory

Ah did Ace and Deuce know about this already??

Are they being mean to you??

Ugh, are you okay with this???

" [Name] let me know if there is something that bothering you... Uh- I hope you can feel the most comfortable in heartslabyul with me... "

Cater diamond

" Awww.. C'mon why did the sky choose to rain now ~ we might missed our movie! " Cater complaining

" Not only missed the movie we might also have to watch the movie drenched, look cater look how drenched we are "

This is supposed to be one of the happiest nights you and Cater have!!

You and he got a free ticket for Vil's new movie!!

The movie was literally trending EVERYWHERE ON THE INTERNET

It's really impossible to get the ticket right now!! But Vil being the awesome friend he was gifted the tickets

FOR FREE!!

And now here we are drenched in front of the mall with cater

Cool, cool so awesome!!

" This is so unfortunate isn't it but surely this would be such an unforgettable memory right [name ] " He said with the usual smile on his face " Why don't we take a picture together this would be an awesome post don't you think " He Suggested

* click* * click*

" #vilnewmovie #badday #icannotbeliveit #catty #whatshouldwedo? And lastly- " Huh.. What's that? He zoomed in on your side of the pic

Oh.

OH

HUH????

" What's wrong cater? Are you going to post it? " U asked him " Ah no, hahaha I'm going to post it later ig. Because you know uh.. The the uh THE INTERNET yeah the internet is so sloww~~ I will post it when we go back~~"

HOW COULD HE POST THE PHOTO

When your... Uh- tops? Tops holder? Shown faintly....

ARGHHHH !!!

did everyone know this already?? Are he the only one who doesn't know yet?? How how how how how

And more questions coming to cater head one hundred by one hundred

What should he do now...

He drapes his coat around you.

" Here use this you might catch a cold~ haha... Ha... Ha. Be careful okay... " He awkwardly says with that flushed face he tries to cover

Trey clover

He knows from the start

Trey is the mom of the group, and he is a really careful man, to begin with

We will OBSERVE you even before you start to hang out with other heartslabyul members

So yep, he knows!!

How did he know you ask?

He eavesdropping on Crowley (accidentally ofc he's a good boy!!)

I felt like he would "accidentally" heard you ranting to Crowley about being the only girls there

I don't think anyone would not be surprised at this situation tbh

But he is the most sweetest guy you've ever met in NRC

I can feel his girl's dad's aura through the screen tbh

He would bake you your favorite cake, teach you how to bake things if you ask him to~

Totally the most helpful guy in the heartslabyul dormitory even in NRC!!

Please marry us Trey we want you TwT

" Hm? Pardon me [mame] I didn't quite catch you...Can you please repeat it? Ah- you want to bake together? Ofc I'll teach you okay <3 "

Ace trappola

....

How

HOW COULD HE NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THIS SOONER????

IS HE YOUR BEST FRIEND??? HUH DON'T YOU CONSIDER HIM YOUR BSF???

" ah... Now What. What is this soap opera plot... My best friend who I've known for YEARS ( you only know her at least only for 6 months you dramatic ass) is a girl??? Why can't you tell me sooner..." He rolls his eyes, not facing you at all, you cannot help but sigh at the situation " Cannot help it yk Crowley told me to keep it a secret it's for my safety too" You explained while trying to face him " Is gender really that life-changing to you ace in our friendship? " You asked him while your head hanging low

OF COURSE IT IS???

Bro, AGRHHHHH HE CANNOT WITH YOU RIGHT NOW

HE THINKS THAT HE IS RLLY GAY ALL THIS TIME

BECAUSE

OF

YOU!!

He went on an identity crisis on this

ahh... How can you do this to him...

'Did Deuce already know this too? AGRH SO ANNOYING I want to punch him... '

"No no no no you don't get it [name] uh... Your gender didn't mean anything in our friendship but it matters in our other relationship... " He says his voice cracking on the last sentence hiding his redness

Deuce spade

----------------------------------------------------------

" No deuce we cannot go to the hot springs together, you go with ace okay"

" Huh, why not it's not fun [name] if we're not together !! " His eyes wide open smiling all over the place " YOU STUPID, ofc she cannot go with us??? " Ace interfering with the conversation

She?

Why did Ace use she?

[Name] is a boy so wh-

Ah

Ah

No way

NO WAY NO WAY

" I'M SO SORRY I DON'T KNOW [NAME] PLEASE FORGIVE ME, DID UH- DID I MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE??? in a uh jn any way??? " He bowed down his forehead and touched the cold hot spring wood. " HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING DEUCE GET UP FAST YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US " Ace Hurriedly tried to get Deuce off the floor but Deuce seemed like he was glued to it...

" I'm sorry I'm so sorry, I just make a unforgivable mistake [name] forgive me!! " Still half bowed

" Deuce!! Get up !! "

A/N: my old fanfic is batshit crazy, 0 to work with no plot, you must read the old one tbh it's really cheesy, it's either involves water and water same plot over and over again, and I really hate it tbh, I wrote that fanfic when I was in... 8th grade??? Now I'm in 12th grade kekw so cringed.

Old fanfic

A/N 2.0: sorry for the incostistent writing length for each of the characters!! I cannot take it anymore with this prompt tbh- it's kinda cute in some way but- it get me the ick everytime when I try to reference my old fic TwT

[redwinelew]

the boy is mine | lewis hamilton [3/3]

social media au. latina + singer!reader

summary — a certain formula 1 driver caught your attention, and you can't help but let the whole world know about your attraction. (read part one and two here)

face claim — rosalia

song — the boy is mine by ariana grande

warnings — none!

author's note — apologize that pt3 took so long!! i got sick lol. but here's the final part!! i love this series so much and i hope u guys enjoyed it as much as i loved making it!

all pictures taken from pinterest. credit to owners.

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f1wagsupdates YN LN supporting Lewis Hamilton at the Belgium Grand Prix today!

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user1 omg yn wag debut 🙏🏼

user2 lewis already lurking in the likes 😭😭

user3 their smiles 😭🩷

user4 bringing her to the merc garage already.... chat how serious do we think they are

user5 user4 probably just friends. personally i do not see this progressing as an actual relationship

user6 user5 i hope not cause they look so adorable together though :(

user7 user6 honestly if yn hornily wrote "bed chem" about lewis then "guess" WITH lewis and still failed to get the man it'd be so hilarious lmfao

user6 user7 it'd be HIS loss though imagine fumbling someone like yn 🙏🏼

user7 user6 fair enough

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ynln george in the back bcs that pic didn't match the aesthetic of my feed

tagged lewishamilton, f1, mercedesamgf1 and georgerussell63

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ynln also congrats on the win or whatever lewishamilton

lewishamilton ynln ouch

lewishamilton ynln congratulating me as a second thought? i regret inviting you already

ynln lewishamilton i would've been there either way 🙏🏼

lewishamilton ynln if i recall correctly you said showing up at the race is a bad idea and that people would talk

ynln lewishamilton i didn't say i wouldn't be there period 🙏🏼 i had to show otherwise you would have lost

lewishamilton ynln my good luck charm ❤️❤️ this is why i love you

ynln lewishamilton i know right you are soooo lucky to have me

user1 ynln lewishamilton damn should we leave????

user2 user1 FR LIKE YN ARE WE INTERRUPTING SOMETHING 😭😭

user3 ynln lewishamilton oh my god they are DATING dating i'm freaking out like crazy right now

user4 ynln lewishamilton SHE GOT THE BOY

user5 ynln lewishamilton omw to write a horny love song about my crush so he'd like me back brb 🏃🏻‍♀️🌬️

georgerussell63 i'm hurt yn and i already got dsq

user6 georgerussell63 LMFAO POOR GEORGE 😭😭

carmenmmundt loved talking to you we should hang out soon!!

ynln carmenmmundt would love to!! text me babe

user7 carmenmmundt ynln they're bffs already omg

user8 user7 mercedes wags have to stick together 🙏🏼

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lewishamilton the win might be mine but this boy is forever hers ❤️

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ynln OKAYYYY

ynln i'm putting that caption in the song btw

lewishamilton ynln you can take full credit baby

ynln lewishamilton ofc i am you wouldn't be coming up with that clever ass caption if it wasn't me 🙏🏼

user1 ynln WHAT SONG

user2 ynln DON'T IGNORE US

user3 ynln she's so 😭😭

user4 THEY ARE HARD LAUNCHING EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM

user5 this is so crazy we already seen them saying i love you on this app PUBLICLY and yet i still can't believe they are actually dating rn 😭😭

user6 user5 I KNOW RIGHT and to rhink this all started bcs she was down bad for this man 😭😭

user5 user6 she's giving me the courage to confess to my crush but i just KNOW as soon as i try i'd fumble it so bad

taglist — @seonghwaexile @totallynotluluu @omgsuperstarg @exotic-iris13 @formulaal @josephqunnies @book-obsesseds-world @st4rgirl-ellie @czennieszn

[pre11yyy]

SUMMARY: You've been teasing Haechan way too much lately so he had to put an end to it (by fucking u so good)

A.N: this was originally a hard thoughts drabble but i just felt like writing more into it so hope u enjoyy... Also m in a very Haechan mood today so i might or might not spam u with his content sorry not sorry

Warnings: explicit content (mdni), mean!haechan, hard!dom!haechan, choking (with hands and cock), hard fucking, unprotected seggs, and more

You were standing in front of Heachan's door, ur hands playing with the hem of ur skirt as u wait for ur brother to show up so u could leave. U always kind of felt nervous around Heachan, u don't know if it's because he always eye-fucks u whenever u r around him, or because of his never ending teasing but u were sure that if u were to be in space alone with him something will 100% happen between both of u.

U can feel that he was only holding back because of his friendship with Mark and that makes u uneasy, so u've been playing with his nerves lately, wanting him to snap out and to give in for his dick i mean for his emotions but also his dick. You didn't know what has gotten into u yesterday but u sent him a picture with ur new red lengerie, waiting for him to see it before deleting it and sending a bunch of sorries wanting to see his face more than anything, but he didn't reply, only reading ur texts without an answer and u couldn't help but wonder if u crossed the line or if u read wrong into him. You weren't sure about coming here with Mark to get his jacket that he forgot in Heachan's house, embarrassed but also curious at the same time, eyes looking for him as he disappeared in his room, hearing his chatter with Mark about random stuff while leaving u standing in the hallaway, u were about to sit in the sofa when u heard their footsteps coming ur way and u stopped looking at Heachan who threw u a very intense look, his eyes hazy as they noticed u, drinking ur excuse of the dress that u fought with Mark over, the small piece barely covering ur ass, ur makeup heavier than usual and the only thing that Heachan wanted to do was to smear it and mess it up but he held himself or at least he tried before he saw the ghost of the red lace bra under ur dress, the same one u sent him yesterday, he cursed under his breath knowing exactly what u r trying to get from all this and he sure will give u that and more.

Mark wrapped his arm around ur shoulders "let's go" u pulled him away annoyed that he messed up ur hair but he returned it in immediately making u fight with him ur dress riding up as u squirm trying to get him away, Heachan watched the whole thing, his pants tightening as he saw the red thong pop in contrast with ur skin, flashing half of ur butt to him. He clenched his hands, his leg shaking impatiently and praying that u'd leave soon or else he'll bend u over in front of Mark. And as if his prayers were answered Mark let go of u earning couples of hits in his chest while laughing at ur tired form, he turned to Heachan "u coming dude?" he asked making the other frown confused "where?" his eyes falling back to u, not missing the small grin on ur face "y/n wants to get a tattoo, it's gonna probably take a long time i'll be so bored if i go with her alone" Heachan raised his eyebrows at u, u really giving it ur best ha! He nodded agreeing to join u and he almost regret that. U were laying on ur stomache the tattoo artist working on ur inner thigh, Heachan could see u through the empty space in the glass, he could see ur ass sticking out as the tattoo artist is inking in ur skin, not paying attention anymore to whatever shit Mark is saying, his mind wondering to later on, to when he'll have u and make u pay for all the teasing u did to him cause ofc he won't let it slide…

U were on ur way back, Heachan's the one driving insisting for both of u and Mark to spend some time in his house and Mark agreed even tho he wanted to drop u off before hands but Heachan refused, u were about to reach Heachan's house when Mark's phone started ringing, "ohh okaay i'll be there in 20 minutes, okayy dw" Mark sighed asking Heachan to drop him off right there "i have to go, they need more waiters tonight" Mark turned to where u r pretending to sleep knowing so well that he would force u to go home right away and u can't let that happen, not when u have this big of oppotunity "dude what am i gonna do? should i wake her up?" Heachan shooked his head "no need i'll take care of her dw" it took Mark a minute to nod his head not sure if he did a good job or not but trusting his friend nonetheless. The moment u heard the door click and the engine start again u opened ur eyes, sighing in relieve and laying there playing with ur phone, excitement filling ur whole body… U felt the car stopping before Heachan got off the car closing the door with too much force that it startled u, u got out of the car seeing Heachan's back facing u as he was opening the door to his house, u stepped in, tugging the end of ur skirt as u followed him inside and the next thing u know, u were pressed on the wall, Heachan's hand wrapped around ur neck making u gasp, his other hand on ur hips, breathing right into ur ears "u played with wrong person little doll" he whispered the hand on ur neck moving up to grip ur jaw making u moan from how rough he is, he chuckled looking at u amused "we didn't even start and u r moaning already?" he clicked his tongue moving ur face and forcing u to look at him, ur hazy eyes meeting up with own and u felt ur legs weaken at the way he was staring at u,

he burrowed his head on ur neck nibbling at ur jaw, his right leg forcing it's way between ur legs, urging u to sit on his thigh and he groaned as he felt ur wetness through his pants, his hand letting go from ur face and gropping ur breasts on top of ur dress, kneading them harshly loving the sound of ur moans and whimpers as u grind at his thigh "i bet u've been waiting for this to hapen right? to come here and for me to fuck u senseless" you whimpered in response, his knee raising slightly to press more on ur pussy making u scream his name, his eyes never leaving ur face, loving the way u look, mouth wide open, eyes rolling back, drooling at the pleasure u were feeling, your makeup a mess already, he groaned, his cock twitching at the sight, his hands leaving ur breast and traveling down to your ass, gripping it tightly and pulling ur body forward making u ride his thigh properly, his hands controlling ur every movement and not letting u stop even if u begged, he moved his face towards yours, his lips ghosting over yours, his hot breath fanning on your skin and you were so eager to kiss him, to taste his mouth that u've heard multiple times talking so dirty and sinful that it drove you crazy.

But he won't give in that easy, he moved away, his hand still controlling your hips and making you chase your orgasm, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he looked at the desperate mess he turned u into, your hands holding onto his shirt for dear life, your knuckles turning white, your eyes closed, your breathing uneven, your whole body trembling from the pleasure, your hips stuttering from overstimulation your thighs clenching around his knee. He chuckled "cum for me doll, cum for me like the desperate whore u are" you moaned in response, his voice and dirty talk sending u over the edge, the pleasure taking over ur whole body, a scream escaping your lips as you cum hard, your juices spilling out on his pants.

He let go of your body and you slumped down to the floor, a satisfied smile on ur face as you look at him through ur hazy vision, his hands fumbling with his belt and undoing his zipper, pulling out his cock and stroking it slowly, the precum spilling out of his slit, his eyes trained on your body, his tongue licking his bottom lip, he smirked and you knew that this won't end until he has his fill. "Strip"

You stood up on wobbly legs, the post orgasm high making your head spin but u still manage to strip out of ur clothes, standing naked in front of Heachan whose hungry eyes were scanning every inch of ur skin, his cock hard and ready, his hand stroking it as he looked at u. He groaned and walked towards you, his hand on the back of ur neck pushing u down until u were face to face with his cock, the tip touching ur lips leaving a trail of precum.

"Open your mouth little doll" despite his words he didn't give u a chance to do so shoving his cock inside your mouth, hitting the back of ur throat and making ur gag reflex kick in, he pushed his cock even deeper inside, making it hit ur throat as tears rolled down ur cheeks, you started coughing and trying to pull away but his hand didn't budge, not letting you escape, not until his whole cock was coated with ur saliva. You sucked him in and swallowed his cock whole, trying your best not to choke, your nails digging into his thighs, leaving crescent moons on his skin.

He grunted, his hand fisting ur hair and forcing you to deep throat his cock, your jaw starting to hurt and you were close to passing out from the lack of air, Heachan groaned as he released his seed deep down your throat, you swallowed everything, his hands finally letting go of your hair and you fell on the floor this time gasping and trying to regain your breath. U were panting, drool and his cum drippin on ur chin, eyes teared up smeering ur mascrara and eyeliner, your body hot and sweaty and the only thing he wants to do is to make u beg for his mercy but he held himself back, pulling his cock back into his pants and adjusting them making u look at him confused "w-what are u doing?" you asked, the panic evident in your voice, scared that he'll leave u hanging. He raised his eyebrow at you and chuckled "what is it doll? did you think i'll let u go this easily?" his eyes darkening and the corner of his lips quirking up "what do u think? should i leave u now?" he asked the smirk evident on his lips as he saw how eargerly u were shaking ur head "use your words little doll" he teased and u blushed "please" u whimpered "please what? what do u want?" he teased, enjoying how flustered and nervous u are getting.

"I want you to fuck me" u whispered, eyes casted down, he lift ur chin forcing u to look at him , his other hand removing the strands of hair that got stuck on ur face "i don't know if u derserve it tbh" u pouted at him, making him laugh ur insides tightening delicously at the sound of it "so eager for me huh? u want me that bad? u want my cock so deep inside u?" u nodded eagerly and he smiled at ur desperation, his hand letting go of ur chin and wrapping around ur throat as he pulled you towards him, his other hand holding ur jaw forcing u to keep your eyes on him.

"I'll make sure to break u until all u can do is beg me to stop, until the only word left in ur mind is my name, until u forget every other name but mine" he whispered in ur ear, his grip tightening making u gasp and moan "is that what u want? tell me doll" you nodded, a silent "please" escaping ur lips and he smirked, satisfied with ur answer. He led u towards his room, pushing u onto the bed, his mouth finding its way to your neck, his teeth scraping ur skin and sucking on it harshly, leaving marks on the way. His tongue trailing a path from ur collarbones, to ur nipples, swirling his tongue around them before biting and sucking them harshly, making you moan loudly. "You're such a slut for me aren't you y/n? always teasing me, wanting my cock inside u" his hand reached down, two fingers plunging inside your pussy without warning, a loud moan leaving ur lips as his fingers curl inside u, his thumb pressing on ur clit, sending shivers down ur spine.

"Oh my god.. ahh" he chuckled, his mouth still leaving marks on ur skin while his fingers are moving inside u. "I love how wet u got for me baby, so wet and ready to take my cock" his thumb speed rubbing harshly against your clit making u squirm on his hold from the pleasure until u cum, your juices squirting and covering his fingers, incoherent words leaving ur mouth as u try to catch ur breath but he didn't let that happen his hand never stopping its movement, fingers thrusting in and out, curling and uncurling, making ur walls flutter around him, your whole body twitching as he overtimulated u while u were trying to pull him away from u, ur tears not stopping as u cried and begged him to stop, "Fuck… Heachan please… Please i can't anymore" u whimpered, tears rolling down ur cheeks as you kept cumming, his fingers never leaving, the pleasure was too much that u were about to pass out but he won't let u, his hands finally stopping, showing u his fingers that were coated with your juices before he licked them, enjoying the sweet taste of it.

"You're doing good doll, u taste so sweet" he cooed, his mouth leaving kisses and licks on ur face, his hands roaming around your body, making your breath hitch and ur skin tickle, his fingers finding its way to ur neck, wrapping around it and squeezing gently, your mouth forming a small o shape, his other hand holding your jaw, his mouth on top of yours, his tongue forcing its way inside and exploring ur mouth, u felt his fingers tightening its hold blocking the air making u dizzy the only thing u can hear is your own heartbeat, your eyes rolling back and closing, the pleasure making its way through ur body, your whole body going limp as he kisses the life out of you. He pulled away, his fingers letting go of ur neck and you gasped, trying to take in the air, Heachan kissed the side of ur neck before whispering in ur ears "are u ready baby?" he bit ur jaw "are u ready for my cock?" u nodded eagerly and he flipped you over, his fingers digging into ur hips, his cock entering inside u in one thrust making u cry out his name, the sudden pleasure overwhelming and making ur head spin, Heachan groaned at the way ur walls wrapped around him squeezing his cock so tight making his mind go blank and his self control slip, he moved, his hips moving in and out, his pace fast and rough, not caring whether it's hurting you or not, all he wanted was to have his way with you and mark you and make sure that you'll be thinking of him and him only.

"Shit… u feel so good y/n, so fucking tight" he cursed under his breath, his hands holding onto ur hips, his fingers bruising the soft skin as u were gone, ur mind so foggy only gasping and moaning as he pounded into u, his cock hitting deep, his hips slamming hard into your ass, a string of curses leaving his lips, the pleasure so great and overwhelming that his mind is clouded, all he can think about is you and his need to release, his need to cum deep inside and to make sure that u r full and dripping with his cum.

You were so close, u can feel it, you were about to cum,your whole body trembled as his fingers were digging harder into your skin holding you close and tight, u felt his thrusts getting sloppier and faster, his cock reaching the deepest spots, hitting your g spot over and over again, and when his hand reached around and pressed on your clit, it was over for you, you came with a scream, his name leaving your mouth as ur thighs were shaking, your eyes rolling back, ur whole body trembling, and Heachan wasn't done, he groaned, his movements slowing down as he filled you with his cum, his cock pulsating inside of you, his cum dripping down ur thighs as he pulled out. Heachan was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his hands moving away from your hips watching intensly how his cum oozed out of you, a smug look on his face, proud that he marked you as his, your whole body aching, his hands were all over you, tracing every bruise and bite mark he made, his lips trailing kisses on your neck, a small smile on his face as he held you in his arms making u cling to him more before u felt something poking ur back and u widen ur eyes so tired "Heachan please no" u whined trying to get away from his hold but his grip was tight, not letting go as his lips curled up, his smile growing wider "just one more time y/n" and u were sure by the tone of his voice that he doesn't mean that at all.

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Predator x reader?

Leads to smut (0u0")

Where he breaks into he readers house/apartment for safety, he looks around and his heat sensors pick up the readers body heat.. He notices she's mostly defenseless but searchers her for weapons.. in the process he's touching her everywhere then leaves. he comes back a few nights later to see her and then BOOM SMUTTY SMUT!

This. . . This is just amazing! Ofc, and enjoy the treat. I'm gonna use Scar boy from AvP, he's my favorite Yautja out of them all heheheh. This is also my first monster/predator smut so. . . Please do be gentle with the comments if u don't approve 🥹

A/n: the Yautjas can roughly speak human languages, I'm using this from the end scene of Predator (1987) movie. I'll give them a reason to speak as well, don't worry. There's a plot for that lol.

Mission XXXIV-XXXV

Pairing: !Yautja!Scar x !F!Shy!Reader

Summary: After making an escape from the Alien Queen, Scar manages to hide away within an empty home—not knowing who was still there and wide awake. After finding and searching the shy human to make sure that she was no threat, she was rather aroused by the strange creature's lingering touches. When he leaves, he can't get the woman out of his mind, causing the Yautja to run back to where she was just a few nights later to finish what he had unintentionally started.

Warnings: Blood and gore, death, adult language, eventual smut, gentle sex (Scar a horny mf but he's a gentle giant imo), size kink, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it folks), fluff, anonymous ending.

Part 2

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut

--

Many things happen for a reason, times of events line up for destruction or something wonderful. Not right now apparently, not for Scar. This was destruction, he wiped out the rampant Xenomorph younglings, now the Queen was left. She was raging with fury as she searched for the few Yautjas who were hiding and planning their ways to kill the unforgiving creature.

Scar was wounded—bleeding out the neon green substance from his left shoulder. He shouldn't have let his guard down, he could've spotted that one Xenomorph that leapt at him. At least he made it out alive, he'll make it back to his planet soon. He entered a home, it was dark but he used his mask to read the room. Everything was clear, before he saw the acidic burn on a book that fell onto the floor from the fallen bookshelf.

His guard was already on high alert, his weapon at hand as he slowly approached a broken door where he saw a tail of a Xenomorph lying lifeless. It was already dead, he scanned the room once more, this time using the heat sensor built within his mask. He caught the glowing body within the dark kitchen, the lights flickered on by her trembling hand. She seemed to stunned to even react by the giant watching her, her clothes were disheveled, a few cuts on her arms but not too much damage.

She didn't move from her place, still taking in who this was. "You're one of them. . ." She muttered before her eyes moved to the side. Scar followed her gaze and saw one of his fallen brothers dead in the corner, impaled through the chest most likely from the Xenomorph itself. His neon green blood coated his stilled chest and the ground beneath him.

". . . I didn't know. . . what to do. . . he tried to. . ." She whispered. Scar looked at the dead alien next, seeing that it's head and neck was severely wounded by one of the Yautjas weapons: A Wrist Scythe.

He looked to her and saw the weapon around her arm that she must've taken from the corpse to defend herself from the Xenomorph. "I-I'm s-so sorry. . ." She mumbled. His mandibles clicked as he lifted his hand and held out his index fingers, slowly circling his wrist—telling her to turn around. She read his silent command and turned around, dropping the Wrist Scythe she held behind her back as she rested her hands against the wall.

Scar scanned her body, reading the wounds she sustained as his large claws grazed over her smaller arms. His entire hand could wrap around her neck if he dare harmed her, but he was simply checking for any hidden weapons she may have carried. Gently letting his hands lower down from the sides of her breasts to her waist and hips, his large hands then clasped over her left thigh. The bridge between his thumb and index finger softly brushed against her sensitive nether regions.

She silently scolded herself to stop thinking about such disgusting thoughts, she didn't even know what this thing was or what was happening. Y/n was a shy person, not really out there in the dating or hookup life. But her thoughts were rather intrusive about this strange being that was touching her.

She felt her face heat up from the unintentional touch, he moved on and checked her other thigh—again, touching her nether regions. Palming around her calf before he stood back up and towered over her frame, his shadow completely swallowed her own. His large mitt held her left shoulder and turned her to face him. She followed his movement and let him scan her body.

He read her vitals and smelled something. . . Something rare for any Yautja to smell from a human, her very own arousal, her vitals showed that her heart was beating erratically, a sign of nervousness while her body heat rose significantly, her pupils widened as she looked away from him. She was healthy and stable, but aroused and nervous around him. Scar stepped back and looked at the fallen Yautja, Y/n slowly slid down the wall and sighed.

". . . Um. . . I. . . I'm Y/n. . . Not that, you'd need to know. . . or anything. . ." She said, Scar looked down at her, his dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders as he tilted his head. His mask translating her words into his own language, his understanding of the human languages and different types were vaguely known to his species. Only a rare few of Yautja elders knew the humans entire lot of languages by memory, no mask needed for translation.

Scar was learning bit by bit each day he spends on earth hunting down worthy opponents, and Bad Bloods. "You're hurt. . ." Her shying voice said, bringing Scar's attention back to her, "Your shoulder is bleeding. . . are. . . are you okay?"

Clicking his mandibles again, he grabbed the items he needed and started to clean his wound and patch it up. Y/n grunted as she stood up and wandered towards the dead Xenomorph, she watched it, lightly kicking it's leg to see if it really was dead. . . which it was.

After he finished patching his injury when he saw Y/n standing by the body. It twitched just a little bit caused her to jump back and squeak with fear, making Scar's mandibles click in a chuckling way at her reaction. She growled and kicked the body before looking at Scar who was checking outside for any sign of the Queen nearby. The coast was clear and he turned to pick up his fallen brother's body.

"W-Wait!" She gasped when he walked out of the door, he paused in his step and glanced at her as she stumbled out of her house while watching him with a tiny glimmer of appreciation. ". . . D-Do you have a name?" She asked him.

Scar didn't say or do anything as a response, he looked away and continued to walk away, leaving the girl alone.

~Three Days Later~

He couldn't stop thinking about her voice, her eyes, the shy voice and her smell. He refused to go back to her for three days, for those three days he still couldn't stop thinking about her. Her bravery to take on a Xenomorph, one that even a Yautja couldn't defeat.

His species never mated for life, they simply procreated to reproduce for their species. To grow more warriors for more hunts, their mating wasn't loving either. The females were known to be rough and quite deadly with the males, just making it out alive and injured was considered lucky after their mating.

But after that, they'd go their separate ways. Mating with others and every four hundred days, they'd all mate again for reproduction. But here was a Yautja, searching for the same female he had ran into by accident, a female who wasn't even a part of his species, no, of course, she was human. A species that was noteworthy of being their opponents to hunt and kill, perhaps even ally with.

But something. . . Something shined from this human, and it wasn't because of the thermal scan. This human, this female human of the human race killed a Xenomorph when one of his kind failed to do so. She wasn't a regular human, she was a warrior.

Scar quietly remained perched up in a tree as his scanners searched her house. The damaged parts of the house were cleaned up and repaired over the days, the light in her bedroom was the only thing on. There he saw her exit the restroom, wearing nothing but a towel around her body as she brushed through her semi-dried hair. She seemed low and lonely as she sat on her bed, not even hearing the camouflaged Predator entering her home.

~Y/n pov~

I turned and looked at my folded clothes to wear; it's been three days, whoever that creature was isn't coming back. I already know that's the truth, but it's so hard to accept. For those three days, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Those large hands, the claws, those dreadlocks and his large abs lining his abdomen. Fishnets on his legs, his large build, his tall height.

He couldn't be just six feet, he had to be close to seven at least. I felt stupid when I remembered how I touched myself last night, thinking about him in such erotic ways. I don't even know what he was or who he was, and yet there I was—finger fucking myself over him.

He didn't even answer me or anything, I don't even know if he had a name. I was more pissed off at myself as I stood to grab my clothes, I opened my shirt and sighed as I turned around. Gasping as I dropped the piece of clothing when my eyes landed on the behemoth in front of me. Him. . . It was him! He was here. . .

He was back. . . But. . . why? Shit, what is he going to do? Kill me? Finish whatever job he had to be here? He stepped forward and I couldn't move, I was either scared or really brave to face this giant. . . I highly doubt that I was brave, I was just petrified. I saw him raise his hand at me, was he going to strangle me? Break my neck? I closed my eyes and accepted my fate, maybe he'll make it quick.

But that anticipation was for nothing, I slightly gasped when his claw dragged against my cheekbone. I opened my eyes to see his fingers gentle caressing my skin with care, it really showed me how truly big he was. His hand could cover my entire face, I looked up at his metal covered mask, those dreadlocks were out of this world. Hesitance drowned my confidence as I lifted my hand towards him, slowly and steadily.

He didn't move or growl, that was a good sign. . . right?

I let the tip of my index finger brush one of his dreadlocks, he seemed to have shuddered from the contact. I moved my hand—thinking I did something to cause him discomfort, but that was debunked when his hand held my much smaller wrist. He brought it up to encircle one of his dreadlocks, it felt smooth, rubbery almost, fake to the touch. But it was real nonetheless.

"Y-You're back. . . Why did you come back?" I asked him with a stutter lining my words. I heard the familiar clicking come from behind his mask, I didn't understand what he was saying but I saw his hand lift towards the tubes connected to the side of his mask before pulling them out. A hiss of air was heard when his hand lifted the disguise.

I didn't know what to think when I saw his face, those large mandibles, sharp pointed teeth, sharp and deadly eyes. Never in my life have I seen a creature like him, this was an extraterrestrial level. Forget E.T, this guy definitely takes the cake. I lifted my hand and grazed my finger over his lower jaw mandibles, they clicked and spread open to reveal his teeth within.

I couldn't stop looking at him, but when I did I glanced at the towel I was wearing. My heart rate picked up as I argued back in forth in my head. What if this is truly the last time I ever see him? He'll be gone, what if he forgets about me? This is my only chance, I've never done this before, but this'll be one hell of a first time story for anyone to hear.

I closed my eyes and gulped before bringing my hand towards my towel, I looked back at the creature before pulling the cloth loose—feeling it fall down to my ankles and the cool air breeze across my bare breasts. I shuddered as the coolness, but kept my eyes on his. His clicking grew to a low growl, almost like a warning sign.

Did I read the signs wrong-? oh fuck! I can't even get a regular guy and here I am, not even getting a damn alien or whatever he was to—"Bee-U-Tiff-all. . ." His semi-audible voice growled out. I gasped at the wonder of his voice, it sounded like he tried to put the words together correctly, but with struggle of course. I grew a light smile as I placed my hand on his chest.

"I don't know. . . if you can understand what I'm saying but: you. . . are the most amazing thing I've ever seen walk the earth. . ." I said to him. His large calloused hand slithered up my arm and towards my neck, his thumb gently pushed my chin to look up at him. His large head tilted to the side as he used his unintelligible clicking to communicate to me.

"I don't understand what you're saying. . . But if you mean. . ." I glanced at my bed then back at him, I took his hand and led him near it before I let him go, crawling backwards on the bed and watched him, "If I'm misinterpreting whatever you're trying to say. . . Then I'm sorry. . . But if I'm right. . . Then can you. . . be gentle? I-I've never. . . did this." I mumbled awkwardly.

He seemed to have understood that rather quickly when he held my ankle and lifted it, like he was examining my skin before he rested his knee on the bed. Pulling me closer and spreading my legs, I whimpered at my exposed place. He's ten times my size, yet he's being gentle as he could be. Maybe this will feel good like my friends say.

~~~

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Not good! Oh fuck! I was laying on my stomach, my ass was perched up and this thing was hovering over my back while his unnatural massive cock was prodding at my unexplored entrance. His hands were locked on my waist as he rubbed himself against me, I mewled from the sensation, it was some sort of friction for me.

He was so big, I was terrified on how he'll even make it fit inside of me. I'll barely get the tip in alone! Without warning me, he turned me over on my back again and knelt on the ground. He held my thighs open before letting his forked tongue run over my clit—there I gasped as I clenched the bedsheets.

"Ah!" I moaned, it was a strange feeling, but it felt good. I heard his growling rumbling within his chest as his hands squeezed my thighs. I wanted to touch him, but I wasn't sure of what he was comfortable with so I kept my hands to myself. I felt his mandibles slightly dif into my pelvic area as his lower ones cupped the backs of my rear, his tongue then slithered inside of my glistening petals and through my cunt.

My legs started to shake when his tongue flickered over my clit as he started to tease my labia. I felt my sweat beginning to form over my chest and forehead, I started to feel the tightening string building inside of me. He fully plunged his tongue deeper inside of me and struck the cord—my back lifting off the bed as I bit my hand to not moan out loud. With trembling legs and the flash of white blurring my vision, I didn't even see or feel him turn me back over on my stomach.

But I did feel that initial sting when his cock pushed into me, I used my pillow to squeal into as he added more pressure. Slowly but surely breaking through my hymen, my tears started to sting my eyes as his hands pushed down my shoulder—making my chest lay flat on the bed as I endured it.

His cock was large, too large, it filled me up as he started to slowly thrust, each thrust made his length dig deeper inside of me. I choked on my whimper as he slammed against my cervix, "FUCK!" I screamed out. He remained still and lowly purred beside my head, not moving and letting me adjust to the sheer size of him. My knuckles turned white as I clenched the sheets, I whined when he slightly moved. He was growling while letting his hands touch my body, I felt his dreadlocks drag across my skin.

After a minute or so, he slowly pulled back and pushed forward. Filling me again, he surely reached the deepest parts of me. Mewls and gasps came from me as he continued with his slow motions, rolling his hips into me and growling, letting out snarls and purrs as he clenched my hips—his claws digging into my skin to resist the urge to go faster. I appreciated the thought, but was terrified if he did let loose on me.

"Ah, Ngh! K-keep goi-NG!" I moaned while hugging my pillow with tears. I felt my sweat beginning to coat my forehead and my back, I felt him lower down and lick the shell of my ear with his forked tongue. A whimper flowed from my lips when he picked up the pace just a bit, I could feel his balls hitting my clit just right. They were so big slapping against me; I choked on my air when he pulled me up on his chest.

He hugged my waist and started to thrust into me again, I reached towards one of his locks and brought it to my lips to kiss. He roared and started to grope my breasts while thrusting quicker, each thrust was heavy and deep. His scale like arms held me tight, his claws tracing over my nipples as his mandibles clicked right next to my ear.

My body felt like it was going to split in half from his cock, I was shocked by my moaning and my begging for more of him. I held his arm while I shut my eyes to enjoy this overriding pleasure, my orgasm was approaching as he continued to grind against me. He laid me down again and snarled—digging his nails into my flesh as he restrained himself, I bit the pillow and squealed when the ball tightening within me snapped.

My back arched as I pushed against him, moaning as I felt my desire squirt out of me. That white bliss glossed over my vision, leaving small black dots to see as he continued to grind against me. He didn't stop, his thrusting grew more intense as he clawed at the sheets to avoid harming me—I covered my ears when he roared out. Then gasping when he finished inside of me.

It felt warm, and thick—I could feel his thick desire coating the walls of my uterus and filling my cunt to the brim. His dreadlocks were dragging over my shoulders as he slowly got up from me, I winced feeling him pull out from me. I felt his cum leaking out of me. I felt so tired, drained of all my energy.

His arms gently turned me over, my eyes felt droopy, they started to close when I felt him cover me with a blanket and pick me up before his deep voice growled out, "Sc—aar."

Unaware of where he was taking me. I don't know how long I was out but I was still sleeping. Until I heard more clicking and snarls from other creatures near me.

_____________________________________

I hope you enjoyed the smut! Feel free to follow and request for ur own!

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡my beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[yujinnieswifeu]

Can you do sassy insolent baby girl dramatic princesse tomboy reader × who you want

(Reader always make fun of her girlfriend but that's just that she kow her girlfriend to well and that's one of her way to say "i love you" not that she can't say "i love you" but yk. Reader is a good observer too and is in high school, reader is known for laughing a lot and making fun of her friends,classmate,teacher her girlfriend and even her girlfriend friends/members reader is a real troublemaker and quite bad at school too that' swhy she need her girlfriend help too do her homwokrs that doesn'thepl her case too)

i'm sorry i'm just rambling my bad you don't have to read it all

And g!p idol×bottom reader

thank in advance

-🎀

pairings: sub!fem reader x dom g!p Ahn Yujin

warnings: smut, cock warming, p in v, Yujin has a cock, cumming inside pussy (don’t do this irl)

a/n: hi 🎀 anonn~, tq for the request, really had fun with this plot heh and ofc everyone know im gg to write for Yujin when you said any idol 😋 also i tried to add in all the things u said but im pretty sure i missed out some, hope it’s still fine tho😣 enjoy~~

———————————————————————

Another day of school, and you thought it would be any usual day. It started of the same, you waking up later than the alarm you set the previous day, groaning as you groggily make your way to the bathroom to bath, getting dressed for school before rushing out of your apartment when you realised the time. It was only when you reached the gates that you looked at your phone, seeing multiple texts from your girlfriend.

7:35am

Hey cutie, good morning ;). Can’t wait to see you later🥺

8:02am

Baby? Why aren’t you awake yet 😞, miss you sm :(

8:33am

Don’t tell me you’re late again uh? Or are you still sleeping? 🤨

It makes you smile, and you quickly reply to her text, letting her know you just reached school. “Hey Y/n!” You heard a familiar voice, looking up as your face lit at your best friend. “Liz!” You went up to her, giving her a quick hug which made some passer by’s stare but you couldn’t care less. You and Liz were always like this, heck, if you weren’t dating Yujin now, people might think you two were a couple, but of course, word spreads fast in campus.

“Where’s your one and only?” She teases, which you react with a playful eye roll, raising a brow and your hands at your waist as you attempt to make a pose to act all cool. “Well obviouslyyy, she’s later than me!” Liz just laughs, her laughter dying down when she looks to someone behind you, only for you to hear the person cough and you bit your bottom lip. You were definitely in it now if she just heard that. “What did you just say Y/n L/n?” That voice.

It makes you shiver inside, a cheeky chuckle escapes your lips before you turn to pout at your girlfriend, which she rolls her eyes at. “You know, this girl here only replied to me now, and look at her hair, she was obviously rushing, weren’t you Y/n?” You look to Liz for help, watching as she slowly backed away and mouthing a ‘sorry’ before heading off first. “Babeee, why you need to embarrass me like that?” You whine when your best friend had gone, and Yujin smirks, her head tilted slightly with her brow raised.

“And why did you lie to your best friend hm?” You could only pout, your hands tucked in your pockets as your head was down. “I’m just playing with you love, i knew why you did that.” She was softer this time when she sees how you were acting and you gave her a wide smile. She boops your nose with her index which makes you giggle slightly. “Hey lovebirds, class is starting soon you know?” It was Wonyoung this time, her hand slung around your shoulder as she attempted to tease your height again.

“Wony! I’m not that short!” Wonyoung and Yujin laughs instead, and you glare slightly at Yujin who purses her lips together to stop her own laughter. “Sorry babe, you just look so cute.” “You mean when i’m this short?” You retort immediately and she couldn’t stop the smile appearing from her face. “You know why.” She winks, her attempt to flirt with you when Wonyoung was still here makes your face beet red and Wonyoung just blinks her eyes, not understanding a thing. “T-that doesn’t mean i am one!” You argued, and Wonyoung suddenly understood it. “Ohh, we learn something new about Y/n everyday hm?” She joins in and you just rolls your eyes. “We both know Yujin is the bottom!” You try again, sticking your tongue out at them before wiggling your way out of Wonyoung’s grip, before heading to your classroom. “Shall we see later?” Yujin shouts a little as you walked off, and you waved them off, feeling the hotness in your cheeks when you think about it.

。。。

“And that concludes today’s lesson!” Your last period finally ended, and you were so glad it didn’t last any longer. You quickly gathered your things, not forgetting the homework of course, thinking of only one person who can help you with it during the weekends. “Y/n? Can you stay back a little while?” The teacher’s voice makes you stop packing, your heart suddenly racing as you knew it was probably something to do with your grades.

“Sure.”

“So…i’m going to assign someone to be paired with you to help you with learning this topic, is that fine?” You were anxious on who it was, just hoping it wouldn’t be a guy as you nod your head yes. “Okay, hm let me think. I do have a student who is really good in this topic, it is a girl so don’t you worry.” She says, seeing how you were less tense after hearing her say that it would be a female. That was until you found out the student that she mentioned was Yujin, and you suddenly grew all tense again.

“A-and you didn’t tell me about this? You know your grades are important right?” Yujin was frustrated, combing her hair back with her fingers. It was after school when she just dragged you back to her place, her grip tight on your wrist with no explanation whatsoever. It was only when you two were in her room, and she sits you down on her chair rather forcefully that she spilled her frustrations, which brings you to the situation now. You were screwed.

“I…I can explain.” She glares at you, which makes you shut up. You knew in this situation to not talk back, after all, you were weaker in your studies. “I’m not doing your homework for you anymore.” She snaps coldly, a shiver runs down your spine, Yujin has never gotten this upset before so it scared you a little. “Yujin…” “You need to learn to do it yourself.” She continues, her arms now crossed as she looks down at your state. She knew you were feeling tense at the situation, and her chiding you would not be enough to help you. “I’ll help you.” Her tone was softer this time as she kneels, her arms on your thighs as she takes your hand, giving you a reassuring smile that catches your breath every single time.

You could feel your cheeks turning hot, and you let your hair cascade down your face to hide the blush as you bit your bottom lip. “Thank you Yujin ah.” She brushes your hair back behind your ear, and pinches your now red cheeks. “Cute.” You swat her hand away, suddenly feeling even more shy as you cover your face to hide the smile. She laughs, attempting to remove your hands to plant kisses all over your face making you squeal as you melt into her touch.

。。。

“What does this part of the sentence mean?” Yujin ask you for the countless time today, and you just stared at her with a blank face. She groans into her hands, clearly understanding this wasn’t working. “Baby…” she drags, and you pout, playing with your fingers instead. “It’s hard to understand.” You whine out loud, which makes her tilt her head at you, her palm against her cheek as her elbows are against the table. “You were distracted, thats why.” Your girlfriend says sternly, and you knew she was right.

But how could you control that? After all, you get easily distracted by everything, especially when it comes to your girlfriend. Yujin suddenly had an idea, a smirk plastered on her face and you cock a brow at her. “What?” She bites her bottom lip, taking you by the waist over her lap, it makes you gasp, feeling something poking between your asscheeks as you attempt to grind yourself against her even more. “Mm..how about if you’re able to get all the exercises right by the end of today…” You could feel her hand slowly undoing your sweatpants, as it drops down to the floor. “Then i will reward you hm?” You whimper softly, your lips pursed as you gave her a pleading look but she just glares at you.

“Be good, or nothing at all hm.” She wraps her fingers around your neck, not strangling you, but letting you know who was in charge as you gulp slightly. “Y-yes Yujin.” She smiles at your reply, contented with your answer as she asks you to stand, removing her pants. You immediately feel yourself salivating at the sight as she removes her boxers along with her pants, watching how her cock immediately springs up against her tummy, some pre-cum forming at the tip. You wanted to lick it so bad, to kneel and let your girlfriend fuck your mouth like the slut you were for her cock, but you knew she wouldn’t give you what you wanted just yet. “Sit down baby.” She spreads her legs a little, and you understood the assignment.

You sit down slowly on her lap, your back against her front, her hands spreading your asscheeks slightly as you slowly slide her hardened cock inside of you. It makes you moan loudly, hands gripping the desk, your breathing coming out in short breaths when you finally settled on her lap with her cock fully inside of you. Yujin bites her lip to suppress any sounds from escaping her mouth, her hands now pushing the exercise in front of you as she pases you a pen.

“Start.”

。。。

You were almost done with the exercise, and you do not know how long it has been, but it definitely felt like hours have passed. You were sure her chair was now ruined considering how wet you were, your juices were dripping down yours and her thighs. Sometimes, when Yujin shifts, it makes you whimper and you try to grind more against her which she stops immediately as her hands holds your hip in place, her breath fanning hotly against the back of your ear where she warns you to try again. Yujin’s voice was low and sultry, she was getting painfully hard by now, with the way your walls flutters around her when she would shift just the slightest, or when she touches you, it was a torture for her too. She really couldn’t wait to ruin you after this.

“I-i’m done Yujin.” You say rather breathlessly, and Yujin looks over your work, her chin on your shoulder, hearing how your breath hitches and your walls fluttering around her again as her front presses against your back. “My good girl, these are all correct now.” She lets out a satisfied sigh, and feels the way your hips move against her lap, it makes her groan, her head against the back of the chair. “F-fuck, you have no idea…how much i want to ruin you now.” Her voice deep and filled with lust, hands gripping your hips, nails slightly piercing your skin as you continue to ride her reverse cowgirl style. “Please…Y-yujin ruin me please.” You took her hands placing them under your shirt hearing her groan.

“Get up.” You were reluctant to do so, but listen to her instructions as you get up, your legs were weak when you try to stand, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for support. You feel her turning you around, her lips on yours almost instantly and you moan softly into the kiss. Your legs wraps around her, pulling her closer to you and her tip accidentally bumps at your clit. It causes you to jolt, you were sensitive from warming her cock for so long and so was she, another groan leaving her lips. Within seconds, she has your back on the sheets, her hands removing her shirt and bra as you did the same to yours. She strokes her now painfully erect cock, pupils blown with lust as she lines herself up against your sopping cunt and you swore that has to be the hottest thing your girlfriend ever did.

“S-so wet for me..fuck.” She pushes herself in almost forcefully, your walls greedily sucking her in as she moves at a feverish speed. It makes you all breathless, eyes rolling from all the pent up teasing earlier. She has your hands above your head, her head diving down to hungrily attack your bossoms with hickies and licks. You moan even louder for her, pulling at your hands weakly which she has them pinned over your head still, your back arches into her touch, the feeling of her tongue rolling over your nipples makes you clench around her even more. “Don’t..don’t s-stop please..!” Your orgasm was approaching with the way her tip hits your sweet spot with each thrust. You could feel her twitching inside of you, knowing she was close as well, her hands finally leaving your wrists, going to your hips as she pulls it higher up against her legs.

The new angle makes your body squirm, eyes pooling with tears from how her tip drags along your sweet spot, and she pistons even faster, mouth agape. “F-fuck, this pussy was made for me.” She speeds up her movements, feeling how your walls closes around her even more, it makes her breathe heavily, as she watches your body react with each of her thrusts. The sight of your breasts jiggling and teary eyes sends her over the edge as she paints your walls white. You come soon after, head tilting back, eyes rolling as your vision turns white, body spasming as you come all over her, screaming her name. She slowly thrust herself this time, prolonging your shared orgasm as her body comes into contact with yours. It makes you whimper, arms around her bringing her closer to you if that was even possible. “I-i can’t stop love, i’m sorry.” She mutters, and before you knew it, she turns your front against the sheets, your back against her front as she has her arms locked over yours, moaning and breathing against your ears as her cock slides back inside your now puckered hole, and you knew that she was not going to stop anytime soon.

This was definitely not just another usual day.

[weird-is-life]

Okay so, how about reader and Spencer Reid doing smth where they need to exchange kisses now and then. Reader has a crush on Spencer and can’t keep kissing him. It becomes too much for them. So one day reader tells him smth along the lines of him needing to stop kissing her like he means it. Bcuz she’s going to read into things wrongly and end up breaking her own heart” and Spencer answers with smth along the lines of “that’s b’cus I do mean it. Every single time. Ur just too dense to see it.”

But u write it like u want. I wanna give u creative freedom. It was just a thought. And if u don‘t wanna write it, that’s okay too. I hope u have a nice day :)

Ty for the request, lovely🥰! Hopefully, this is okay. Warnings: pet names, little angsty, fluff, mentions of kisses ofc, (0.5k)

Spencer keeps kissing you, well you keep kissing each other and it honestly drives you a little mad. Not because you don't enjoy it, you do, a lot actually, but because you don't know what the kisses mean.

They leave you so confused, you don't know what to think of them. Especially when Spencer kisses you so lovingly every single time. His kisses leave you breathless and confused at the same time.

So right now, as he leans in to kiss you again, being at your place to watch a movie, you turn your head away from his. You almost wince, when you notice Spencer's baffled and definitely a little hurt expression.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asks, worried, that he's done something wrong.

"I-I...it's just...," you try to find the right words, but you don't know how to tell it to him. You look down at your fiddling hands, just so you don't have to look at his worried, puppy eyes.

"It's okay, if you don't want me kissing you, I won't do anything, you don't want me to, I'm sorry, if I made you uncomfortable," he carefully takes one of your hands in his as he apologises.

"No, I do want to!" you say maybe a little too quickly, the embarrassment of it makes your cheeks go red.

"Yeah?" Spencer grins at you, not cheekily tho, softly as always.

You bury your hot face into your hands.

"What is it, huh? You can tell me anything, you know that right?" Spencer doesn't really understand what's going on. He's thought, you liked him, like he does you.

You take a few big breaths and then you slowly put your arms away from your face.

"It's just...I need you to stop kissing me, Spencer," you blurt out and it comes out differently than you intended it to be. Spencer looks stunned.

You try again, " I need you to stop kissing me Spence, 'cause I'm afraid, I'm reading into things wrong and I'm worried, that I'll just break my own heart by doing so."

Spencer is sure, that his relief could be seen from miles away. He was waiting for the worst possible rejection from you, but he definitely wasn't expecting this.

You look at Spencer's face, only to find him looking right back at you with the biggest happy smile ever.

"You're such an idiot, if you think, that you're readings into things wrong," Spencer starts, " because I like you. I wouldn't be kissing you, if I didn't mean it, sweetheart."

It takes you a few seconds to process, what you've just heard, but when you finally do, your whole face lights up. Spencer likes you back? This isn't a dream?

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. But I thought, you knew that already," he chuckles at your cluelessness, he really did think, that you knew.

"I don't know, what I thought," you say sheepishly.

Spencer doesn't think, he can survive looking at your cute, shy expression with the rosy cheeks any longer, so he just leans in to kiss you.

Of course, he gives you a moment to push him away, in case you still don't want him kissing you, but you don't do anything like that. Instead you are the one to finally connect your lips with his. Not afraid to show him how much you like him, too.

[kiyoomi-levin]

somethin' new (miya twinsxF!reader) <NSFW>

a/n i'm working on like 3 other fics rn but i found this in my drafts and thought it was good enough to publish (with a LOT of polishing ofc). I'm new to smut writing so I'm very insecure abt this but i hope u enjoy

summary::: your older brother atsumu likes watching porn. and the twins like trying shit out on you. aka porn w plot osamu focus bc he's best boy word count::: 2.9k warnings/triggers!!!::: non-con, step-cest, stockholm syndrome-ish, the miya twins are really fucking mean and possessive, double penetration (my fave! <33)

People think the Miyas are scariest when they lose, when they're arguing with each other, or when they're distracted during a serve. 

But you know them better–actually, you know them best.

They're scariest when they're fucking you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I was watchin' porn yesterday and I wanna try somethin' new," Atsumu announces as he walks through into the living room, tossing his volleyball bag onto the couch. 

Osamu rolls his eyes, continuing to flip through his textbook at the kitchen table. 

"Why the hell would you watch porn when you got ‘er right here?" Osamu snaps back, hardly glancing up. Atsumu’s eyes shift to you as you squirm on Osamu’s lap uncomfortably. 

Osamu continues casually stroking your pussy with one hand as the other holds you down. 

You’re shaking– he’s been at this for twenty minutes now, reading his lecture notes as he continuously edges you. You haven’t given in yet, though. 

You know he’s just waiting for you to beg him for it.  

It's still hard to believe that you’re dripping on his lap and he won’t stop memorizing vocabulary for his upcoming exam.

As a final year university student, Osamu’s been under a lot of pressure. What better way to alleviate it than to play with his favorite toy?

Atsumu takes in the scene in front of him, smirking when he makes eye contact with you. You quickly turn away.

Although the twins share you, it still feels wrong when one of them catches you in the act with the other.

“Ya sure you don’t even wanna hear? I know you’ll like it, ya freak,” Atsumu says, now glancing at his brother.

You shiver at Atsumu’s words and Osamu frowns as he moves his hand away from your lap.

"Fine. Out with it, asshole," he murmurs, finally distracted from his studies. He shoves his papers aside, full attention on you now. From the corner of your eye, you see Atsumu light up. 

It’s almost comical to see the twins this way.

Always fighting, always competing— but when it comes to you they're a single organism.

"I was watchin' my favorite porn star-- ah, don't be jealous, y/n! I only watch her for inspiration because she's freaky-- and I saw her take two in one hole." 

Your eyes widen.

You wouldn't be able to take it.

"No, please," you whisper, holding your breath. Osamu’s body flexes under you reflexively.

When have you become such a pussy?

You were always the outspoken, little step-sister who fought her brothers tooth and nail for the last slice of cake. 

Nobody could have excepted them to fuck the brat out of you within a month of moving in together.

Osamu surprisingly agrees with you.

"Nah. I'm not into rubbin' dicks with you," he says, both hands on your chest now. The thought of being that close to a naked Atsumu makes him grimace.

Atsumu rolls his eyes.

"I'm not into that shit either, but I wanna see her take it." You wince as Osamu pinches your nipples, hard. He's gone completely silent, which isn't a good sign. 

“It’ll be a little painful, but I know she’ll be able to pull through,” Atsumu continues, carefully watching Osamu’s expression.

The Miya fans would be shocked to discover that Osamu's a sadist, more so than Atsumu. 

While Atsumu wipes away your tears, Osamu enjoys watching them stream down your face.

When Osamu doesn't respond, Atsumu sighs and rubs his head, frustrated. He’d been looking forward to this since last evening, when he had to jerk off to the sounds of you and Osamu going at it.

"Fine then. I'll try it myself with a toy. I bought a new dildo for her, ya know. And it's bigger than you."

No further words are needed—Osamu pulls his hands out of your shirt, and you feel him physically fuming behind you.

He's possessive, stupidly so, and hates when Atsumu buys you disgusting silicon toys and shit. 

He really doesn't understand his twin sometimes. 

Why buy toys, why watch porn, when you, his adorable, precious little bitch, exists? 

Osamu would rather lose a game at nationals before you cum off a piece of vibrating plastic. 

And he won't admit it, but deep down he's scared. Scared that it'll satisfy you better than he can. 

The less competition, the better. He's already competing with Atsumu on a daily basis.

Atsumu, who can make you squirt faster than he can. Atsumu, who makes you laugh. Atsumu, who, Osamu knows, you favor.

Maybe it's because the little shit handles you just a little better in bed. 

Osamu picks you up from classes, purchases expensive jewelry and takes you out to get sweets every week, you still shy away from his touches.

So Osamu has given up-- if you're gonna hate him anyways, he'll do whatever he wants. 

And that’s why you’re always left a humiliatingly wet mess whenever he uses you. 

"Fine. Ya better take a shower first, you fuckin' freak," Osamu says, pushing you off his lap. 

Atsumu smirks, cracking his fingers and wrists.

"You be preppin' her, 'Samu."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It feels good, but you don't want to admit it.

You’re lying on your shared king-sized bed, trying to hold back tears and moans as Osamu eats you out, pumping three of his long fingers into you quickly. 

Between the two of them, Atsumu can get you to cum faster. But Osamu gets you to cum harder. His every move is calculated–from every lick to every moment of rest he gives you.

Osamu's on a mission to get you to beg.

"Samu, please," you breathe, gripping the bed sheets. You feel him smiling, and you grip at the bedsheets. All the teasing he’d been doing before Atsumu got home is quickly catching up to you. 

“What was that?” He asks, his dark eyes taking in the conflicting emotions washing over your face. When you don’t respond, he leans back and slaps your pussy, hard. Your eyes widen in pain, and you can’t help the squeak that you release, to his satisfaction.

You’re wet, and he knows it’s not a fluke. You want him. He hasn’t trained you over this past year for nothing.

“‘You aren’t bein’ too mean, are ya?” Atsumu asks, stepping out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. He’s shamelessly naked, hard from hearing your cries from the shower. 

Atsumu surveys your body, admiring the marks his twin has placed on you. 

A small part of him is thankful his brother is willing to play the role of mean cop. Atsumu gets to reap the rewards of consoling you—although he too enjoys seeing you covered in bruises and left in tears.

He’d never hurt you himself though. He likes cuddling with you and loves the way you laugh at his lame jokes too much. 

Osamu snaps him back to reality, standing up as he wipes his shiny lips with the back of his hand.

“She’s ready.”

Atsumu grins. His brother is strangely meek today---probably from you refusing to go to his practice game the other day. You had enjoyed a nice picnic date with Atsumu instead (although that ended with you shaking and moaning in Samu’s arms that night).

“I guess I’m first?”

“Ladies first.”

“You’re a bitch, ya know that?” Atsumu spits, rubbing his dick with his left hand and soaking his right in your wetness. Osamu laughs, pulling off his shirt in a smooth motion.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop shaking. The thought of having two of them in a single hole is almost too much to wrap your head around. With Osamu’s length and Atsumu’s girth, you’re sure you won’t be able to take it. 

What if you tear? Surely they’d stop if you beg hard enough.

For now, you can’t do anything but accept this. 

From what you’ve observed, when the twins are playful in bed, you shouldn’t resist.

Lost in your thoughts, you gasp as Atsumu yanks you towards him—he’s sitting at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. You gulp as you find yourself hovering above his dick, facing Osamu, who’s busy tossing Atsumu's towel onto the ground.

“Aw, baby. Calm down, won’t ya? You know it hurts more when you’re nervous.” 

Atsumu brings your face towards him, grip so tight you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. 

His rough hands, thick from years of volleyball training, gently smoothes out your hair, and he begins to press kisses on your jawline. The motion is so welcoming that you momentarily forget he’s the one to propose this in the first place.

Osamu sighs, frustrated.  

“Get on with it, won’t ya?”

Atsumu frowns at him, pulling away from you. 

“And that, ‘Samu, is exactly why she likes me better than ya,” he says, slamming you onto him in a single motion.

It hurts!

You groan, fingers twitching. It hurts already, he’s especially hard today. What’re you going to do when it gets to the meaner twin?

Atsumu pets your clit, grinning as he feels you begin to melt into his chest. He knows exactly how you like it. That spongy spot, right… there. Your groan turns into a moan as he shifts his hips, aiming to reach deep inside of you. 

Osamu doesn’t break eye contact with you as he slowly gets onto the bed. He’s in no hurry, unfortunately. 

If he wasn't such an asshole, you'd find him hot.

You really do love his gorgeous eyes and gray hair. 

"Stop bein' a dick and get on with it," Atsumu says. He scowls at his brother, who continues to simply stare at you. 

Both of them know Osamu doesn't want to actually hurt you. He'd never break you.

You're too precious.

"W-what?" Your shaky voice intrudes into his thoughts. 

You've gone red and stopped clawing at Atsumu's unrelenting hand.

Did he say that out loud? He must have, because Atsumu is laughing now.

Fuck. 

This isn't the time to be embarrassed, though.

Osamu reaches forward, lining his dick next to his brother's. 

To be honest, he was never opposed to the idea.

Yeah, Atsumu's a disgusting pig, but he's his twin. 

There's an unbreakable bond between them and knowing they share so much DNA sometimes makes Osamu feel as though they're just one person in two bodies. He’s honestly willing to try anything that Atsumu proposes (except get him off, of course, he’ll leave that to you).

Taking a deep breath, he begins to push, using his precum as lube.

Fuckkkkkk.

Osamu's pretty sure everyone had the same thought at that exact moment.

It's so tight. It's so warm. It’s hurting you, for sure. But it feels too good to stop. 

For you, it’s suffocating, being stuck between two muscular twins. And, once again showcasing their unspoken connection, they begin to carefully move in and out of you at the same pace. 

It hurts now, and tears are burning behind your eyes, but there’s that little voice in your head telling you to just relax and enjoy it—it’ll feel good.

Why? Why does it have to feel so good when this is all wrong?

Fundamentally, twins shouldn't be sharing the same girl, at the same time.

That same girl should especially not be their little sister whom they've been older brothers to for a decade.

But what does it matter now?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Atsumu's in heaven. This is better than he imagined, actually. He’s decided that he’ll take the easy route, playing with your soft breasts and sucking hickies into your neck. His dick has gone still as he simply enjoys the fast pace Osamu fucks you at. 

While there’s a slight burn against his cock every time Osamu moves, the pain only intensifies the pleasure. 

Osamu’s eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on watching his dick pump into you. He wants to curse out Atsumu for being so lazy, but at the same time— he’s always liked to be in charge. 

That voice was right, because it’s feeling good now. Your brain buzzes pleasantly and you’re losing control of your legs. 

Atsumu's moaning into your ear, Osamu's grunting with every push, and you feel hyper aware of every motion as you're slipping away. 

The dull lights of the room begin to blur.

You're crying now. Your toes are curling and drool slips out of the corner of your mouth. How stupid you must look right now.

How long has it been? 5 minutes? 5 hours?

It has to be at least that long or else the numbness that you’re beginning to experience down there doesn’t make any sense.

Atsumu has resumed his efforts in making you feel good, overstimulating every fiber of your being as he wipes away your tears and nuzzles your neck. It’d be an innocent gesture if he wasn’t rubbing circles onto your clit.

Osamu has been working like a well-oiled machine, admiring your broken face and how good his lower half feels, circulating adrenaline throughout his body. 

Just looking at you, choked up and crying, is enough. 

"I'm cumming..." he whispers. No, he’s not. He can’t. 

Not before his stupid twin does. And certainly not before you do. 

"Come on, baby, beg for it," Atsumu whispers into your ear, as if he can read his brother’s thoughts. 

Maybe they do have some sort of telepathy. Atsumu reaches forward and gently pushes down on your lower belly. You groan immediately. The slight pressure has your walls rubbing against their dicks even tighter now, and Osamu’s now grinding against that spot you love.

You’re gonna cum. Or pass out. Maybe both. 

"Please!" You shout. Fuck pride. "Please, please, please, ‘Samu, please cum."

Annnd he’s coming. Osamu reaches out, grasps your neck, and squeezes. 

Your cries are the only thing he can hear, loud enough to drown out Asumu’s words, and he’s losing sensation in his hips—

“Fuck, I love you, y/n…” Osamu says, admiring the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull. 

Even as your eyesight flickers, you make out this confession, lips automatically parting to moan. 

You tighten as Osamu releases in you, Atsumu following suit shortly after (something he’ll bully Osamu about later, no doubt).

There’s a certain stillness in the room as Osamu immediately slips out of you and turns away. Post-nut clarity’s setting in, and he realizes he’s not as fond of dick rubbing with Atsumu as he was a few minutes ago. 

Atsumu’s still panting in your ear, and, after a few moments of rest, gently eases himself out of you. Unlike his usual self (who insists on cuddling with you after the deed, no matter how much bodily fluid you’re covered in) he allows you to roll away from him, still recoiling from the strong orgasm.

Surprisingly, the lazy asshole leaps off the bed first today. 

“I’ll be taking a shower first. Alone.”

You muster enough energy to glance at him, then at Osamu. It’s so awkward you’d run out of the apartment if you could. 

Osamu knows his brother is being especially kind today, letting him speak to you in private.

As Atsumu strides towards the bathroom, he catches Osamu’s eye and winks, smirking at Osamu’s middle finger.

Osamu can basically hear his twin’s inner voice— this is just payment for the fuck.

You shut your eyes, registering the closing bathroom door. Now that the pleasure has subsided, you realize that you’re just in pain. Your chest and hips, especially, from Atsumu’s relentless teasing and Osamu’s rough handling. 

Damn it. You’re meeting with your friends tomorrow, how’re you going to hide these marks on your neck from them? 

From the way Osamu had choked you, you’re almost certain there’s going to be a bruise. You do have that leftover, crusty concealer that Atsumu got you a few months back—

“y/n, do you hate me?”

Osamu’s deep voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Your mouth instinctively opens, but you hesitate.

No. 

“No.”

Because you really don’t. Despite everything they put you through, you can’t bring yourself to hate them. 

Osamu lets out a silent sigh of relief, turning back to look at you. 

“Do you love me?”

You can’t answer him as quickly this time. 

Osamu and Atsumu were your brothers. They had been by your side for all of your childhood.

 They were the first ones to teach you how to ride a bike, how to multiply and divide, how to cook rice. 

They had been your first love. And even now… you’re relieved they’re with you, not in the bedrooms of other girls.

“I… do,” you admit. Fuck. You’re crazy. You know that. But you do. 

Even though you don’t want to admit it, you’re just as twisted as your brothers. You bury your head under the covers as the heat rushes to your face. 

“I wanna marry you.” Osamu suddenly announces, ripping back the blanket you’re holding to your face. He examines your blushing cheeks, and reaches down to grab your hand. 

Yeah, it’d look much fucking better with a shiny ring. He should look into a jewelry maker first thing tomorrow morning.

“Nope. I already called dibs, ‘Samu,” the blonde haired setter interjects, throwing open the door as if awaiting his cue. 

“Like months ago. Actually, years ago.”

Osamu frowns, prepared to retort back that actually, remember that you didn’t even like her when we first met her? You told dad you didn’t want him to marry mom because you didn’t want a sister, you little–

“We’re all Miyas here,” you say, predicting another fight. Despite your tiredness, you can't help but smile. 

Yeah, you do love them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n fun fact: i wrote this while meeting with my business class project group two semesters ago >.< depraved shit FR.. also no final read-through as usual bc i'm literally cringed out by my own writing LOL

[educatedsimps]

— bonus headcanons, iwaizumi hajime

≪ back to fics masterlist

iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader

a/n: idea dump based on this iwa request (main fic) so this is basically just everything i wanted to put into the fic but i kinda lost the energy and the bandwidth to write everything up to the standard i wanted so now this exists HAHA hope u like this and tysm for reading! :)

headcanons under the cut!

You remember asking him once, "Hajime, why do you do that?"

And he replied "Do what?" with deadass the most confused look on his face.

"Kiss my wrists and palms all the time," You clarified.

"Oh," He stopped. "Yeah, why do I do that-"

ok so basically, Iwa finds the wrists a very delicate part of the body, and given his experience as a volleyball player, and the nature of his job, he takes extra special care of them.

he remembers his coaches always reminding him and his teammates not to injure their wrists during training, which translates to "YOU BETTER HAVE GOOD FORM WHILE SPIKING, SERVING AND SETTING, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

anyway, i think he started noticing wrists when he was in high school, especially since he was seijoh's ace and had to use his wrists a lot to spike. he probably injured his wrist(s) once and has always listened to his coaches ever since.

now that he's a professional volleyball trainer he makes sure that his athletes don't injure their wrists either.

so i think all of this adds to why he pays extra attention to your wrists especially.

bonus if your job requires you to use or rely on your wrists a lot, eg. musician (like me), athletes, surgeon, author, artist, etc... idk.

YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME THAT HE DOESN'T GIVE THE BEST 👏 FKING 👏 MASSAGES 👏 ON EARTH 👏 and at the end of the massage he'll always kiss your hands and wrists and idk why but it just feels so chivalrous. like ofc it feels intimate when you hold his face in your hands and he plants kisses on your wrists/palms and but sometimes it just feels so chivalrous and gentlemanly ykwim?

OMG WHEN HE PROPOSES TO YOU like after he slides the ring onto your finger AND THEN KISSES YOUR WRIST/HAND AND IT FEELS LIKE YOUR HEART COULD EXPLODE 'cause i know mine would actually explode if he did that.

anyway some instances i thought of adding to the fic (but couldn't cuz i don't have the ability or capacity to write them out well) include:

waking up in the morning together or when you hold his face and kiss his forehead (these two are in the main fic linked above!)

when you're cuddling on the couch after a long day and just watching a show together or napping. if you're laying on him and touch his face he'll 100% kiss your wrists/palms

when he hugs you from behind and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair (like when you're cooking dinner together or something) and he'll pull your hand down to kiss your wrist

when you hug him with your arms around his neck and he catches your wrist before you pull away

when you shower together (SFW, DON'T WORRY) and you're facing each other and he's tilting his head / bending down while you wash his hair or massage his scalp and when you're done washing it he'll give your wrists a gentle kiss before returning the favour

BONUS: when he holds your face in his hands and you decide to give him a taste of his (very sweet) medicine. you’d twist your head to kiss his wrist and then his palm and he'd be BLUSHING because he's usually the one who does that AND HE'S SO CUTE he's like, "hey... you can't do that. i'm supposed to be the one doing that for you." while blushing and smiling and getting a lil shy and everything and HE'S JUST TOO CUTE FOR MY HEART 😭😭💕

a/n: ok that's all for the iwa brainrot ... i'm kidding, the iwa brainrot will never end. THANKS FOR READING THOUGH and thank you anon for sparking my two week long obsession with iwa once again

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[wispstalk]

Some writing advice for hunting, bc I see a lot of hunting scenes in fantasy that make me itch. More under the cut. Don't read if you're sensitive to blood-and-guts discussion or animal death.

Finding game:

- I don't hunt much these days bc I don't feel like getting my ass out of bed at shitfuck o'clock every weekend during the season. Which you have to do, because much of the time you come home empty-handed. Successful hunts come about when you're out there often.

- You don't really have to be a good tracker to hunt, but you do have to know the basics of your prey and you have to be able to interpret the landscape even if it's unfamiliar. It's less likely a tracker is looking for "bent blades of grass" or whatever and more likely they are noticing game trails, sheltered areas where nests and burrows are, a spot of thick vegetation which would indicate a water source.

- Scat and footprints are useful too ofc but to varying degrees. If I'm hunting deer it's just confirmation that they're in the area; more often I use knowledge of their habits to actually find them. If I were hunting something elusive and solitary like a cougar I would pay more attention to the tracks but that's also a reason people hunt with dogs!

Actually hunting:

- Bows are not the only hunting weapons, though would be most common in ur typical medieval fantasy type setting. Spears and lances, slings with stones, and clubs would also be used. And knives and swords but in this hunter's opinion, FUUUUCK that.

- Lung shot is a quick death. Heart shot and head shot too but that is much harder. Other shots might mean tracking a wounded animal as it runs away. This is where things like broken twigs/bent grass are especially telling, and ofc blood. Small game bleed out faster and won't get as far but you might spend quite a while running after an elk shot in the flank.

- This highly depends on the prey but hunting often involves more sitting around than people realize. I bring a small pad for my booty ass bc sometimes you'll spend hours in a strategic spot waiting for the game to pass by. Also hides (the shelter, not the skins) are a thing and most hunters would consider shelter-building an essential skill.

- Hunting seasons are not entirely a modern convention -- there are better times of year to find different animals. But there would be less concern, historically, about killing animals during the breeding season than we have today.

- Even when I was hunting regularly and more confident, I got a huge adrenaline spike EVERY time I had an animal in my sights.

Big game:

- A deer has a lot of meat on it and though it's not a bad thing to leave a carcass for scavengers, your party of two or three adventurers probably will not go to the trouble of hunting deer unless they have some nearby place to cache, preserve, or trade what they can't eat before it spoils. Are they leaving it behind or do they have some way to take full advantage of such a large kill?

- If your character gets a large game animal they're probably going to field dress it: deal with all the blood and guts on site, then quarter it so it can be packed back to the campsite or whatever. My dad is a big burly mutant man and he cannot carry a deer by himself. You can carry game on poles or horseback too but field dressing is pretty typical in a situation where u can't just fling it in the back of the truck and hang it at home.

- I grew up eating bear and when it comes up I'm often surprised how many people don't know that people hunt bear for meat. It's tasty imo, especially makes a good sausage

- I can hunt deer alone, though company is nice. I wouldn't attempt hunting something more dangerous by myself. Large animals especially are better taken down as a group effort. In the TES context for example it would be kind of insane to hunt horker alone. Not that some folks wouldn't try.

Small game:

- A character who subsists mostly on hunting is going to be eating a lot of small game. They are probably going to use traps and snares in addition to actually going out on hunts.

- Look up "rabbit starvation." Small game is often (but not always) lean and going without fat for a long time can cause serious health issues.

- I joke that you don't hunt turkey, you just go get one. Game birds are kind of stupid. I plan a deer hunt, but I have gone out and shot grouse on a whim.

Processing:

- Draining blood, skinning, plucking, butchering, dealing with all the bones and guts, storage and preservation: pretty time consuming and involved. It's a good excuse for social activity.

- The moneyed classes likely would not process their kills themselves, unless they're doing some kinda randyll tarly masculinity flex for the symbolism. Kitchen staff or a local butcher would handle it.

- A good skinning knife is kinda wide and short. Some game knives have a rounded tip which keeps it from puncturing the skin in case of accidental slippage.

- Skinning is done with a light hand bc puncturing the digestive system means you've poisoned the meat. I will say it is less difficult than I expected it to be the first time I tried it.

- We don't eat a lot of offal in the US but a deer liver, for example, would be considered prime meat by many and eaten first. Bear, walrus, and seal liver contain toxic amounts of vitamin A and would be thrown away.

- I've been told every animal has enough brains to tan its own hide, but I think there are some exceptions. It's definitely true of deer and elk. With small animals like rabbits it's hardly worth the effort of getting the brains out and other things can be used but brain tanned leather is soooo soft and nice.

- Hides and pelts are useful and valuable and would be kept or traded if circumstances allowed. You can tightly roll a hide to keep it from drying out before tanning, or you can freeze it, basically indefinitely. You can also air dry it once scraped clean and soften it later, which is what fur hunters would most likely do for efficiency's sake. Tanning is also so so so fucking gross imo. Really slimy process, and tanneries REEK.

That's all I can think of for now and this is already hella long but the takeaway is that it is generally a pretty involved activity and more impactful on lifestyle than I usually see depicted. So there ya have it

[taintedcigs]

YOU'RE NOT SCARED, ARE YA?

wc: 4.1k+

pairing: ghost face!eddie munson x final girl!reader

warnings: 18+ !!smut, smut smut!!, MINORS DNI!! absolutely no minors!! p in v, dom/sub elements, dark!dom!eddie, naive and innocent!reader, final girl!reader, mean!eddie, fingering, kinda manipulation, slight dubcon, this is kinda dark so if this kind of stuff bothers u DO NOT READ!!, minor character death, dom!eddie, squirting (??), sub!reader, heavy/graphic smut, knife kink kind of, very brief choking kink, kind of a breeding kink??, praising, degradation (name-calling etc), mean!soft!eddie JUST OVERALL FILTH MINORS DNI!!!

summary: you were happy to be a survivor and finally ready to get back to your life after ghost face was caught, but was he actually caught?

authors note: okay so i watched scream 6 yesterday and i had to i just had to write ghost face!eddie !! NOo SCREAM 6 SPOILERS DON'T WORRY OFC !! this is for u wyv OMG hope u like it i kinda have doubts abt it but oh well!! also hope u enjoyed scream 6 omg @sleepy-wyvern the reader is very forgiving and just gives in im sorry for that okay ill write another darker one maybe later pls send me ur ghost face!eddie requests and help me indulge in this fantasy omg xo, em &lt;3 line divider creds to @attxnt

The breeze from the window had you chilling up before you could realize. Your head popping in the direction of the window as your eyebrows furrowed, you never noticed that you had left a window open.

With a sigh you get up to close it, as it's already freezing inside, a creak on the floors causes your head to pop up again, more confused than ever, you look around.

The TV is faintly playing in the background, screams of a woman in the horror movie you are watching is pitching your ears as you hurry to turn the TV off, wanting to see what the noise is about.

As soon as you turn the TV off, you hear another creak, the sound is now familiar to you in an eery way, you feel uneasy as you tiptoe around the living room, looking around to see what is causing the noise.

You shake your head at your paranoid thoughts, it's probably just the noises an old house makes.

Huffing, you make your way into the kitchen, re-opening the fridge for the hundredth time that day as you wait for a meal to magically appear.

Another windy noise behind you catches your attention, you swiftly turn around. Nothing.

Then the loud rang of the phone causes you to jump.

The phone ringing isn't easing your worries, you know the Ghostface murderer who has been roaming around town, killing a bunch of teenagers in Hawkins was caught, but still, it didn't give you comfort as you saw the face of Jason Carver who was being arrested, he looked innocent —as innocent as he could look for someone who was an awful person.

You shake your thoughts as you realize you are being paranoid, the Ghostface killer is caught, you need to calm down, you remind yourself.

"Hello?" You answer the phone calmly, hoping that it's Eddie, ready for him to ease your worries.

"Hello," The distorted voice speaks at the end of the line.

"Yes?" You ask, curiously now, wanting to know who the caller is. You shake off the feeling that the distorted voice reminds you of the ghost face killer, you don't want to believe it.

"Who is this?" The voice asks, and you furrow your brows.

"Who are you trying to reach?" Your voice comes out small, you're still uneasy from the creaking noises and what had happened in town before the killer was caught.

"I don't know." The distorted voice sounds careless.

"You have the wrong number." You answer, any sort of phone call still gives you anxiety. "I'm hanging up" You almost huff, annoyed that it's not Eddie, just some random guy.

"Wait, don't hang up." The voice is soft now

"Why?" You reply, your eyes narrowing.

"Because I think you need to hear this." The voice is mysterious.

"Hear what?" You ask, confused.

"They got the wrong guy." The voice is taunting, and the uneasy, chilling feeling from before is back.

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" You ask, getting more uncomfortable, you look around, the paranoid feeling setting into your stomach once again.

You thought you had left the ghost face killer thing behind, happy that you survived.

"Jason Carver is innocent." The voice is more direct now, it sends shivers down your spine. "Well, he isn't innocent, but he sure isn't the ghostface killer." The voice chuckles.

"Who's this?" You ask, your voice getting shaky now.

“The question isn’t who am I, the question is, where am I?”

"Fuck you, asshole. This isn't funny." You spit, ready to hang up the phone.

"Oh, I'm sure you would beg me to."

"You know what-" Your words are quick to cut off as you are swayed by a mysterious figure, hooded hands cover your mouth as you attempt to scream and squirm.

"That's not going to do you any good, sweetheart." The distorted voice is enough to make you shaky again.

A scream dies out in your throat from the shock, you are left speechless and you feel almost paralyzed.

"Let me go." Your voice is muffled, tears are prickling your eyes.

"You want me to let you go?" The ghostface masked figure tilts its head to the side, you eye him curiously, nodding slowly.

"Don't you wanna know who I am?" The voice is taunting you again, and as much as you want to know, you don't want to give whoever it is the satisfaction.

"Let me go." Your voice is still muffled, a chuckle is heard from the other end.

"I think you know who I am, sweetheart." The voice is oh so familiar now, but you are still in denial as you shake your head.

"I- I don't." You manage to let out in your shocked state, the ghost masked figure chuckles, and the distorting voice is now going back to normal as you are finally hit with the realization.

The figure lets you go as he rips off the ghost face mask off his face, you first see the curls, those curls that you twirled your finger around as you laid in his bed, are now taunting you.

A grinning Eddie is revealed under the mask, you are now shaking as your face is contorted.

No words come out of your lips as you stare at him in shock, hoping for this to be his idea of a sick twisted joke.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" He is fully smirking, you are speechless, you can't believe that it was Eddie, your Eddie who had been behind the sick killings.

"Eds...?" Your words linger in the air, you feel small, so small.

"Yes, doll." The nickname should make you feel disgusted, you should feel disgusted. But you can't help but still be so enamored with him, you feel disgusted by yourself.

"What... why- How?" Your questions are spiraling, your eyes never leaving his, you want answers.

"It's... you?" You are dumbfounded, and the expression on Eddie's face is something you have never seen before.

"Yup." He's quick to let you know that he really is ghost face.

"I- I don't understand..." You are fighting your tears now, and Eddie walks closer to you to cup your face, still gentle, and you are too shocked to push him away, too comfortable with him that you let him.

"It's not that hard to understand, sweetheart." He chuckles almost, your eyebrows furrow. "Why?" You dare to ask, he clicks his tongue.

"It's simple really."

"You- you killed them, Eddie." Your voice is meek again, it's cracking as your tears freely escape your cheeks, he's quick to wipe them away. His other hand still holding onto the knife.

"Shhh, angel. There's no need to cry, they don't deserve your tears." He attempts to comfort you, but you squirm. "Don't be scared of me angel, 'm not gonna hurt you, I promise." He reassures, and you want to believe him, as much as you're scared, he's Eddie, your Eddie.

"Why- why did you kill them?" You manage to ask between your tears, Eddie's head tilts to the side.

"You're looking for a motive?" He asks. "How about the town "freak" is getting sick and tired of all those assholes calling him a "freak" and a "satanist", so he decides to finally show them how much of a freak he can be, how's that motive for you, hmm?" He taunts, the knife is still behind him, but you feel uneasy.

"Vicki, Tommy H., Carol, Tina..." You name every one of his victims, and it brings a smile to his face.

"I had to do it, sweetheart." His voice is calm and collected.

"Why... why..." You are still in shock.

"Oh, it's easy, sweetheart. Vicki, Carol and Tina were awful to you, d'you remember how they splashed you with their drinks, and laughed while you ran away sobbing, d'you remember that? Cause I never fucking forgot." His voice was harsh now, he was feeling the anger, the pain you had endured in their hands.

"Thought it was funny to humiliate my girl, make her feel bad, and they thought they could fucking get away with it? No chance." He hummed.

"Tommy H. was a fucking asshole, he got what was coming to him, no real loss there." He was talking about these people as if they were disposable, and you hated to admit he was right, you would probably never admit it out loud, but all of them were terrible people, destroying all the people they didn't deem to be "popular".

You look at him, still in shock, you don't know what to say, what to think, especially when Eddie is standing this close to you.

"And Jason?" You asked, your voice was less trembling now, what Eddie had done was horrible, but you didn't feel as scared anymore.

"Oh, he was easy to frame." He grinned. "I couldn't let him get away with fucking touching you at that party, princess." His hands were caressing your cheek now, and you gulped.

"I knew you tried to hide that from me, you knew how angry I would get, you didn't want me to get involved or hurt myself... Robin told me." His voice was more vulnerable now.

"But I'd do anything, fucking anything to protect you, princess. And I did. All of them, deserved what was fucking coming for them." His eyes squinted, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"S'all good, now. You have me, to protect you, princess." His hands drooped down from your cheeks, as they traveled across your body, you couldn't help but get chills all over where he touched, you felt disgusted with yourself that you were enjoying this, but you had waited so long, so long for him, and now he was actually giving you what you had waited so long for.

"Eds..." You get his attention.

"They tried to hurt what's mine, they tried to take my girl away from me." He murmured into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your face, and you can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"But I've got you now, princess. No need to be afraid." His words were late to register in your head, the infamous ghost face killer was in front of you, his body is pressed against yours, and he was telling you all about his murders, and for some reason, you were still not screaming and running away.

"I- I can't." You squirmed, your eyes were getting teary again.

"C'mon, Y/N. No need to make this harder than it is." His hand raised the knife, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

"You- you killed them, Eddie." Your voice was shaking, you eyed his movements.

"You taunted me... with your calls." Your voice was shaky. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?" You gulped, trying to push him away, but he held you in place.

"Baby, I just had to warn you of them... they were supposed to be your friends, do you remember everytime you defended them to me, telling me that they were your friends and that I should be nice, hmm?" He asked, you were ashamed to nod, he was right, he had tried to warn you of them but he never listened.

"But they ditched you the moment you told them what Jason had tried to do to you, they humiliated you... you deserved so much better." His voice was calm as he attempted to comfort you with the knife still in his hand.

"I had to taunt you a little for not listening to me, but whatever I said to you wasn't bad." He reassured, you shook your head.

"But killing them was the only way?" You raised your voice this time, getting confidence from the way Eddie saw you as his soft spot.

"I was protecting you." His calm voice was more irritated now, his gaze landed on yours, and it was piercingly sharp.

"I- I didn't ask you to do that for me." Your voice was shaky, and Eddie tssked as he dragged the knife along your face, you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid.

He noticed your movements, and he was quick to drag the knife away, knowing it had scared you. "No need to be scared of me, princess." He still had that smirk on his face, but he was gentle now.

"Let me go or I'll scream." You demanded, but he just chuckled.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet, angel." He hissed, but he let you go. And you look at him dumbfounded.

"Go on, then. Call the cops, tell them it was Eddie, your Eddie." His eyes narrowed as they watched you, you gulped. He knew where to hit you.

You didn't want him to be in trouble, even after everything, even after how you had tried to hate him in these last five minutes.

"I- I..." You stuttered, and Eddie chuckled.

"Do it, princess, turn me in." He taunted again, and it's like you were unable to move.

"Can't do it, can ya?" The taunting voice was back again. But he wasted no time as he pinned you against the wall this time, standing closer to you than he ever did.

"Knew you wanted me, as much as I wanted you princess." His voice was sultry, the knife that was supposed to scare you was now running against your clothes, and he felt you shiver under him, it makes him feel more in control, and he loved every second of it.

"Look how you squirm with just my touch, princess. I bet you're s'soaked under that tiny little skirt, aren't you?" He questioned, you squeezed your eyes shut, you hated how much you were enjoying this, and you felt disgusted with yourself.

"Let's see." His hands were cold as they landed on your thigh, riding up your skirt as you sucked in a breath.

His touch was so soft and demanding that as soon as his ringed fingers circled around your panties you let out a whimper, Eddie’s pants tightening at the sound.

“You really needed this, huh?” He whispered against your ear, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Look at you, squirming under my touch, holding out your pretty little whimpers from me, you want this as much as I do, sweetheart, don't lie to me."

The hand that was holding the knife grazed your thighs, the knife's coldness caused a gasp out of you, and Eddie smirked. "Such a slut." He almost chuckled, and you whimpered at the nickname, Eddie knew you like the back of his hand.

"You enjoying this, princess? You enjoy me making you squirm with the knife I killed the assholes that tried to hurt you?" He questioned darkly, you didn't want to answer, you felt ashamed.

Eddie's hand that circled your panties cut contact, and you gasped, your eyes opening, he cupped your face harshly. "Fucking answer me." You looked into his dark eyes, and you nodded, simply. You needed him.

"Words, need your words." His grip on your cheeks was harsh.

"Yes- yes! I- I need you!" You stuttered over your words but it was good enough for Eddie now as he smirked.

Eddie's rough and demanding demeanor, as well as his protectiveness, was sickly making your panties dampen, you hated to admit it.

His hands let go of your face as they returned to their place, and his finger easily slipped past your panties as they entered into you without warning, you whimpered loudly.

“S’fucking soaked for me, angel.” He purred against your ear, his hands gliding in and out of you easily as your whimpers were blissful to his ears.

The knife in his hand was still gliding your thighs, his lips harshly collided against yours as you were left out of breath.

“Eds…” The words slipped past your lips in a state pure of euphoria. He focused his one finger on your spot, causing you to almost scream out, as he pushed his other thick fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Look at you, doll…” He murmured.

“I haven’t even fucked you and you’re already dripping. Waiting to get fucked by me, my little slut” He chuckled as his fingers stretched you out, making you gasp.

You were captivated by him and willing to comply to all of his demands. You had been yearning for him to touch you, for you to feel him, for his cock to wreck you utterly.

"Need to get rid of these." He hummed as he swiftly used his knife to cut your panties, you gasped, as the air hit your cunt, whimpering.

"Need... need you." You couldn't take it anymore, you looked up at him doe-eyed, and he almost melted with your words.

"What do you need pretty girl?" He needed more from you.

“Need you between my thighs.” You whimper as he groaned at your words. “Need your cock.”

"Need your cock, inside of me, fillin' me all the way up." Your words are enough for him to quickly free himself from his pants and boxers.

He hissed as his angry red tip, oozing with pre-cum, faced you.

You licked your lips at the sight, spitting in your free hand and taking him in your hand hungrily, giving his cock a few strokes.

"Atta girl... but no fucking, teasin'" His hands were quick to swat yours away, you pouted.

He took the knife again, this time he freed you of your almost transparent blouse. He recognized that blouse immediately, he could almost always see your tits from them, enjoying the way they jumped up and down when he purposefully hit the curbs when you were inside his van. But now he wanted to see them, fully exposed.

The knife was quick to get rid of the tiny blouse. His eyes devoured your bare breasts flashing him, and he groaned at the sight.

The hand that was free of the knife played with your nipple as he latched onto it, hungrily, sucking, pulling and everything filthy he could possibly think of.

The other hand with the knife was still travelling across your stomach, and then getting closer to your other nipple. always grazing to give you a bit of pain, but a hell lot of pleasure.

"Please, Eds, please." You were begging now, and he loved it.

"Such a lil' slut... begging for me to fuck you, after I just told you I killed all those people..." He mocked, chuckling. You felt your cheeks flush with his words, you were ashamed, but he was far from wrong.

He still had your nipple in his mouth, kissing and nibbling.

"You were fucking made for me." He murmurs.

"This fucking cunt was made for me." He lets go of your nipple, now his hands give your clit a tight pinch.

Eddie lined his angry red tip to your entrance, groaning at the sight of your glistening cunt, waiting to be ruined by him.

Without warning, he pinned you further against the wall and pushed himself inside of you, your cunt engulfed him almost instantly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

It was as if your cunt was made for him, gripping him nicely.

He groaned, your pussy was milking him as he felt nuzzled by your warmthness, he was in pure ecstacy, and he never wanted to let you go.

Your whimpers were getting so much louder now, and he never felt more proud. He growled against your ear and choked you out with his free hand, muzzling out your cries. He watched the way your tits rose up and down, enjoying the sight, making him sink lower into you.

"Look at you, fuck, princess. Takin' my cock so fuckin' well." He groaned.

"This tight fucking cunt was made for me. Made for me to fuckin' use, perfectly made just for me."

Eddie was sure he was in heaven as he rocked his hips roughly and deeper into you, splitting you open until he was sure you were stuffed with his cock.

“D’you know how long I wanted to this, princess?” He asks.

You shake your head, whimpering.

"Up." He demands as he taps your thighs, you oblige immediately wrapping your legs around him.

His thick thighs are pushing your legs wider, “I waited so fucking long to take you. To take this fucking cunt and make it mine, make you mine.”

“D'you know how much I wanted to stuff you with my cock, fill you to the brim till all that pretty little head of yours would be able to think would be my cock.” He growled, harshly gripping into you, your hands tugged on his hair guiding him to go faster.

"You wanted this as much as I do, doll. I can tell, I can tell by the way your sweet little cunt is milkin' my cock, lookin' so fuckin' pretty when you're s'fucked out." His voice was dark now, and being filled fully by him made you whimper once again. You nodded your head.

“S’stuffed with my cock that you can’t even speak, baby?” He asked, smirking. You nodded, needing more, you were moaning loudly now.

“Lookin’ so pretty beggin' for my cock, I knew you would love the idea of me killing for you, didn't you? You love the fact that I'd do any fucking thing for you” He purred, his hips pushing against you.

You knew it was wrong, what Eddie did was wrong, and you surely knew that him stretching you open with his cock right after he told you he was a murderer was wrong, but fuck, he just felt so damn good.

“Needed this so badly, needed to stuff this tight lil’cunt to the brim, show you who owns it.” He moaned loudly.

He was quick to slip out of you, and you gasped, he didn't give you any time to process anything as he plunged himself inside your walls in a glorious thrust once again, stretching you open once again, and making you scream out.

“Yours, yours, yours” You murmured, trying your best to adjust to his huge cock again.

Eddie eyed you as you squeezed your eyes shut again, your head fell back from pleasure, your pretty lips were shaped in an 'o' form, and he could tell you were getting close.

“F-fuck, baby. You're squeezing so tight around my cock. You gonna cum, sweetheart?" He asked, groaning.

With both of his hands he was now holding onto your waist, the knife in his hands was dangerously close to your skin, grazing every once in a while, and he couldn't help but sickly smile as you had a terrified look in your face as it did so.

Eddie decided you looked so pretty when you couldn't decide if you were terrified of him or you wanted him inside of you forever.

He was pounding into you harder now, and you couldn't help but nod, you wanted to, you needed to cum.

"Needa cum..." You whined and Eddie's eyes glimmered with lust.

“Look at my lil' cockslut.” He purred.

“Cum for me, slut.”

"Cream my cock, sweetheart." He didn’t stop his movements as he roughly rutted his cock inside of you, your sweet cunt taking all of him as you released around him, gush of wetness pulsing out of you.

"Shit... shit... Look at you, f-fuck." He praised.

"Squirtin' all over my cock, f-fuck, made just for me."

Strained moans escaped your lips as the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with Eddie's groans were all that was filling the room.

"Your cunt gets so tight right after you cum, shit- shit." He moaned, his movements were animalistic now, he wasn't stopping.

"Don't think I can hold much anymore, sweetheart. Need to fill up your sweet fucking cunt." He cooed.

“Fuckin’ made for me. You’re mine and mine only.” He grunted as he pounded deeper into you now.

“Gonna fill that tight lil' cunt so deep with my cum, sweets. Paint your walls white” He cooed. "Gonna dump my load so fuckin' deep inside you, you'll never get it out, sweetheart."

Eddie’s deep growls and his animalistic noises filled the room as he sheathed himself further into you before releasing his warm seeds within your waiting cunt, his hot cum quick to fill your insides, causing you to groan once again.

He let out a last groan as he slowly attempted to come down from his high. He felt ecstatic, his big smirk never leaving his face.

After he caught his breath, his cock growing soft inside of you, he sighed. Finally relaxed, he pulled out of you with a huge grin plastered onto his face as he looked down to admire his work.

His warm cum was leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs. He was quick to stuff back all of his cum that tried to leave your pretty glistening pussy.

"Mine." He murmured as he placed a sloppy kiss against your lips, taking you in his arms as he carried you to your bed, so you could have your well-deserved rest.

[reidsaurora]

hil! so im a little nervous to send this in and confused how exactly to request but im gonna try anyway

the summer celebration and the banner is so cute! could i please request for you to write a "Malibu Dream House - domestic!au" with Reid and fem!reader? Spencer and reader are expecting (unless you're uncomfy with pregnancy, then they can just be a couple that's moving) and relocating, buying a home together. and the team comes over for a house warming party during well obviously the summer! just like cute fluffy dynamics between everyone. Rossi is protecting the bbq like it’s his baby and ofc Ms. Penelope Garcia is excited at the possibilities of the couple’s future

i hope this isn’t too boring a request, and of course no pressure to write this, i just hope you’re having a good day and hope summer treats you well 🩵

hi, lovey! sorry this took so long! as usual, i don't have an excuse alshalsjsksh 💀 hope u enjoy though!

"With A Little Help From Our Friends" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Reader is feeling apprehensive about the end of her pregnancy, Spencer reminds her that really all you need is a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Content Warning: pregnancy stuff, a little sexual humor at the end, food talk, small mention of a gun (this is CM after all), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: it definitely didn't take me three different attempts to write something without scrapping it...

Originally Written: 07/23/2024 through 07/27/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (love u my editor 4 life)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration can be found here!

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Crashing Waves - angst requests -> Sun Kissed - fluff requests

To say the last couple months had been busy would've been an understatement.

Sure, when you and Spencer first saw that little blue plus sign, you went into full-blown parent mode. It started with some baby clothes, then some bottles, then the crib… But, entering the last trimester of your pregnancy, that's when things started to get real.

In the process of getting ready, you'd acquired enough things for a potential army of babies, making Spencer's apartment—originally intended for one resident—feel even tinier than the baby you were soon to birth. So what was Spencer's genius solution? Move into a new house, because he simply couldn't get rid of his baby's things before she'd even arrived.

And that was how you found yourselves heavily pregnant and moving into your new three-bedroom Cape Cod in the quiet town of Cabin John, Maryland. Perhaps you should've found somewhere that wouldn't require waiting until your eighth month of pregnancy to move in, but with its charming blue-and-white exterior and flower boxes on nearly every window, it was hard to say no to the place.

The last week had been spent moving everything in, not much thanks to you but thanks to your friends/colleagues of the BAU. Pretty much everyone had been in and out of your home over the week, but Spencer still insisted that the two of you should throw a housewarming party, and who were you to say no to that cute smile and big brown eyes? You only hoped your daughter wouldn't inherit them, or else you might just take that two letter word out of your vocabulary altogether.

Now you were here, in the kitchen supply aisle of the grocery store, contemplating what paper plates to use for the party.

“I really don't think anyone's going to care about the design, love,” Spencer attempted to reassure you. “Just so long as they aren't flimsy.”

Your pregnancy brain was basically ignoring him at this point though. “What if I buy the wrong ones and they think they're ugly?”

Spencer pouted, though he placed a supportive hand on your back. “How long have you known my colleagues? And how many times has someone said something mean about something so miniscule?”

“There was that one time Rossi said he didn't like that flower arrangement I put on the coffee table.”

“In his defense, he said they were the same colors that his second wife had at their wedding,” he explained, then chuckled. “He was probably just having some PTSD.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of contemplation, you decided on the basic white ones, Spencer reassuring you all the while that they were perfect. Then, it was onto cutlery, which was just another thing for your brain to pick apart. You knew it was silly, truly, but you just couldn't get yourself out of your own head about even the most miniscule things.

On top of that, it seemed as though your husband hadn't missed your shift in behavior. Sometimes it sucked that he read people for a living.

“Honey,” he started, his tone sounding oddly like the word he'd just said, “are you sure this is about paper plates and plastic forks?”

Normally, you'd be able to put up a fight with your brain, push down the thoughts and explain later in the comfort of your home. But pregnant you was much different than regular you, and it only took that one question to have you tearing up.

You leaned into his shoulder, hoping to suppress the sounds of your cries. “What if I make all the wrong choices and the baby hates me?”

His lips met the crown of your head for a gentle kiss, followed by a soft sigh. “I promise she'll love you. You're going to be the most wonderful mother any little girl could ask for.”

“But what if I buy her the wrong diapers and she yells at me?”

Spencer gave you that signature pout, and a small swarm of butterflies set off in your belly. “I doubt she'll be that picky over them, but if she is, we just buy her new ones and make it better.”

You couldn't help but snicker through your tears. “I feel like that's awful advice, but I think I get what you mean.”

“C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in as closely as possible. Your bump had made it hard for hugs to happen, but that definitely didn't stop your husband from trying. “You're going to make a mistake or two. It's in our nature. I will most likely make a lot more than one or two mistakes-”

“Not true. You're gonna be the best dad in history.”

“And you will be the best mom in history. It's going to be a learning curve for all three of us. But, when they say ‘it takes a village,’ at least we know we have our village. JJ will be there to help with all your new mom questions and Hotch will be there to help me build her first treehouse. Kate will be there when she starts playing with makeup and we start to feel old.”

You giggled into his shoulder, earning you a small smile. “Penny will be there just to spoil her.”

“Emily will be there just to teach her how to flip someone off,” he snickered, the sound vibrating against your skin. Then, he was pulling you up for a long but sweet kiss, the taste of his morning coffee taking over your senses. “We've got this. You've got this.”

And instantly, you were feeling better. You knew Spencer knew magic, but sometimes you swore he was a wizard with the way he could change things just by saying one thing.

—

The second you pulled into the driveway, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Spence, why is the gate open?” You only hoped he had a reasonable explanation.

Unfortunately, his answer was not at all what you were hoping to hear. “I'm not sure. I don't think I left it open.”

Abandoning your party supplies in the car, the two of you headed toward the gate, Spencer insisting you and the baby stay behind him. As an FBI agent, he knew never to go anywhere without a gun, so luckily he at least had some way to protect you and himself if it came to that.

With one hand, he pushed open the cracked gate, the other lingering near his firearm just in case. The two of you quietly and slowly made your way into the backyard. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, it felt like it would jump right out of your ribcage. Spencer managed to remain his normal, calm self, but you couldn't say the same.

And then, just as you rounded the corner: “SURPRISE!”

Both you and Spencer nearly jumped out of your skin at the screams, though you both quickly realized what was going on.

Pink and white balloon arrangements, one table filled to the brim with gifts and another covered with various snack trays and drinks. If it wasn't clear this was a baby shower, the sea of people in pink outfits would've been the giveaway.

Penelope was first to greet you, her pink sundress bouncing as she practically ran to meet you. “You don't understand how hard it was to keep this from you,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Your arms flew around her neck, and hers wrapped around what they could of your stomach. “What is all this?” Now you were on the verge of tears with her.

“Papa Rossi wanted to throw you guys a shower and of course we had to surprise you.”

You let go of Penelope and turned to Rossi, wearing his normal attire, except for his normal white button-down had been replaced with a pink one. “Dave, you old softie!”

His arms wrapped around your neck for a small hug, and he left a peck to each of your cheeks. “I love you, kid, but don't call me old.”

You laughed as he let go, and immediately he walked over to the grill, like that was where he belonged. Then, you and Spencer were off to make the rounds.

Spencer wore the biggest smile you'd ever seen, aside from the one he had when you'd first shown him the pregnancy test. Even though you'd been with Spencer for nearly a decade, you still felt butterflies and goosebumps when he smiled, when he laughed, when he called you ‘love’.

“He's gonna be the best,” Penelope said, her eyes following yours.

You smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah, he really will.”

Just then, Luke and Spencer headed your way, Spencer moving to stand behind you. Immediately, you leaned into him, and he took your belly in his hands, relieving some of the pressure there. “Why were you staring?” he teased in your ear.

“I just think you're pretty,” you giggled, the sound like music to your husband's ears.

Luke snickered at the interaction, though he tossed an arm around his girl, giving Penny a quick kiss on the head. “By the way, you guys should have babies more often. This woman has been cooking enough to feed an army. She left like ten casseroles in the fridge for you guys.”

“Penelope,” Spencer gave her a soft look of something close to disapproval, though you knew he didn't mean it. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You and Mama are gonna need something to eat, and I know you guys are not going to feel like cooking after being up with a newborn all night.”

And it was time for another hug, the tears from earlier actually falling this time. You weren't sure what it was about pregnancy, but you'd realized it had made you awfully touchy. But you didn't care, especially today, when you were in the arms of some of your best friends.

“Hey, Penny,” Luke said as he watched the encounter, a tone of slyness to his words. “Maybe we should hop on the train next. Then you'll have a reason to make that breakfast casserole more often.”

She pulled away from the hug before turning to her boyfriend with probably the most serious look you'd ever seen her wear. “Luke Santiago Alvez, if you bring your man-juices anywhere near me, I will rip off your thingy and then feed it to you.”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. Then, you turned to Spencer, who was just confused. “Did she just call it a thingy?”

“Did she just say man-juices?” His sentence elicited giggles from all four of you.

It was then that “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles started to play on the speaker, no doubt having been taken over by Hotch. But as the song played, you couldn't help but notice the sea of people all here for your baby. Sure, you were terrified. But you knew you'd get through it: with just a bit of help from your friends.

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