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scorpioriesling · 5 months ago

Note

Hiya! If like to order a Ridoc, Bodhi, and Liam, with a side of 10 and if it is in-stock, a 73? Cheers friend!

Good Things Come in Groups of Three

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x Bodhi x Ridoc x reader

Warnings: mdni, 18+, heavy smut, p in v, oral, threesome… this is quite graphic lol

Summary: After a long day with your trainer, the last thing you need is his friend mouthing off to you -- especially when it's a topic he has no business "educating" you about. Ready to rinse off the day and finally catch a few hours of sleep, you're not expecting company; but, you come to realize maybe it's not all that unwelcome.

SR’s Note: So... this is my first time? Writing? Smut involving more than just two consenting parties? So like... please don't tear me to shreds. <3 I really, really tried, and I apologize for the wait time, I have so many WIPs and I wanted to do my best on this for you; I appreciate your patience! This uses prompts #10 and #73 from my Prompt Request Masterlist. Enjoy (:

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Come on Y/L/N -- harder!"

Sweat runs down the back of your neck as you draw back, raising your gloved fists in defense for what felt like the hudredth time that evening. Bodhi stood before you, his left brow raised tauntingly as he motioned for you to move with a curl of his fingers.

"Do it again, but do it harder this time," he instructs, repeating the forward motion with his fingers. You huff in frustration, awareness creeping in of how late it had gotten. The moon was now hanging above the clouds, barely anyone was left in the gym... and you had Bodhi, your trainer, keeping you here late.

You lunged forward, throwing your weight into him. He stumbled, back, but you weren't strong enough to knock him off of his feet. You thrust your clenched fist out, aiming to at least leave him doubled over -- again, you were too slow. He caught your wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you to the ground. Your hipbone connected roughly with the mat, surely to leave a bruise; but that paled in comparison to your strangled breaths as the wind was completely knocked from your lungs.

"B...Bod...hi.." You writhed beneath him as he pinned you, his form pressed completely atop you to keep you from rising. A pleading cough was all you could get out before his warm breath ticked against the shell of your ear.

"Tapping out?" He rasped, the rough patches on his worn leather gloves rubbing your wrists raw. You nodded frantically, and he sighed, smacking the mat before releasing you. The air was a welcome relief as it flodded your lungs, each breath drawn in greedily as you rolled onto your back against the mat.

Bodhi leaned back on his heels, the slight shake of his head sending a soft ruffle through his dampened curls. He peered down at you with a disappointed look.

"Y/N, you know when you tap out during the real thing-"

"Bodhi, you were practically fuckin' killing me on that last one!" You squeaked, your head resting pathetically against the worn training mat. He tsks at you, cracking his knuckles and continuing to stare.

"You need to know how to hold your own. Especially against guys," he elaborates. You roll your eyes, but he continues. "Guys don't give a shit if you're small, or you're a girl, or you physically can't take them." He gives you a pointed look, and before he can say more, you hear the even more irritating sound of your fellow squadmate approaching.

"Hah, yeah, in fact," Ridoc chuckles, bending at the waist to peer over you. "Some twisted fucks try to get paired with girls on purpose, just because they know it's a different type of fight, and it's one they could win." He looks pitifully at you, the waves in his black hair falling over his forehead. You scoff, pushing onto your elbows and wincing at the pain blooming near your hip.

"You're annoying," you throw a pointed glance at your fellow first year, your eyes sliding to the trainer you were assigned by your absolutely-wonderful-and-charming wingleader next. "And so are you; running me into the ground, working me harder than anyone else here," you gesture around the gym, and laugh sarcastically as you notice it has emptied out.

"Oh! Wait. There is no one else here." You frown, and Bodhi only glowers at you.

"You'll be thanking me when it comes time for challenges and you can actually take down your opponents." He says nonchalantly, and you shake your head in disbelief.

Ridoc opens his mouth again from your right. "It's probably for the best anyway-"

"Ugh, Gods Ridoc, do you ever SHUT UP?" Your anger bubbles over, and he immediately stops talking. "I'm so tired, I'm worn out, I've been here all night sweating my ass off with him," you jerk your thumb toward his annoying upper-classman friend. "Now, I have to listen to you run your mouth, too?" You sigh frustratedly, glaring at the moon through the open window.

You push to your feet then, sending one final angry look at the two friends.

"All on a fucking school night, too!"

You turn on your heel, making way for the locker rooms. You cross your arms, feeling the smallest victory won as you approach the locker room door.

It's short lived when you hear their mocking laughter from the training room behind you.

You slam the door shut, grumbling and growling as you stomp by the grayed-out stalls. What the hell is their deal, anyway? Surely you could handle your own. Not every guy here is looking for a girl to go after, anyhow.

Approaching the mirrors, you sigh heavily, bracing your hands against the cool ceramic of the sink.

So what if you were paired with a man. You would be able to hold your own -- they were just afraid of looking weak. That had to be it.

You stared at your reflection for a moment, taking in the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep. Your ponytail was nearly undone, so many hairs had fallen in the hours you'd been forced to train here.

Screw Bodhi for making you stay so late. You shook your head, thinking about him pinning you to the mat. He didn't care how tired you were -- he did it anyway. And Ridoc, he never knew when to stop running those full lips of his...

Screw them both, honestly.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sound of a locker closing rang out, causing you to jump. Your heartbeat quickened; surely, no one else would be in here. The gym was empty when you walked out.

"Hello?" You called. Your feet felt frozen in place, your mind swimming with all of the possibilities. After a few moments of silence, you shrugged it off. It was late; perhaps with the lack of sleep, you were simply imagining things.

Of the four shower stalls available, you weighed your options before stepping into the one in the corner. Two were missing a shower curtain, and the other had a sign that read "Out of Order" in front of it. Not to mention the lack of a lightbulb in there; you went with the fully funtional option.

You peeled your clothes off, discarding them at the bench near the sinks before stepping in. You had just closed the curtain quietly, the room so eerily quiet when your mind began to wander. You could have sworn the locker rooms had six showers -- not four.

Again, you rolled your shoulders, chalking it up to be pure exhaustion that had you thinking these rediculous things. With a soft sigh, you reached for the shower handle.

✧･ﾟ: *

It seemed as though fifty things happened at once.

You had just let your eyes drift shut, your hand bracing the cool steel of the shower faucet as you awaited the feeling of the warm water to rain down on you.

In that same second, the curtain was abruptly shoved open, and you heard (definitely heard, not imagined) a male voice, asking, "Uhhh, what are you doing in here?"

Also, in that same second, you screamed. At the top of your lungs. Wide-eyed, shrill, screaming. Because why the fuck, was Liam Mairi, of all people, staring back at you, naked in the girl's locker room?

While he was also... naked... in the girl's locker room?

"Liam!" You screetched, reaching for the shower curtain in the same second he did. You pulled it toward yourself in an attempt to conceal what had already been exposed, but it seemed he had the same idea. It was as though tug-of-war was happening with the damned curtain, and in the end, his barely covered dick was pressed against your barely covered vagina. You braced a forearm across your chest in an attempt to hide your top half.

"Y/N, what the Hell-" he began, his cheeks reddening as he looked anywhere other than in your direction.

"Ohhh no," you roared. "What the fuck," you puncuated. "Are you doing. In the girls. Locker room!" You demanded. He let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes drifting from the ceiling finally to meet yours.

"Are... are you serious right now?" He asked. Your eyebrows rose so high on your forehead, you thought they'd recede right into your hairline.

"Yes? It's, what, nearly midnight?" You seethe. He chuckles, his seaglass eyes roving across your face. You narrow your brows at him.

"It is midnight now, yes," he confirms. "I just got back from riding with Deigh, and since the shower in my dorm is taken..." he explains, his piercing gaze trailing over your mouth and drifting lower. "...I opted to use the ones down here. In the boys, locker room, I might add." He smirks, his pupils widening as he unashamedly takes in the cleavage you still have pressed against him.

Your cheeks burn, the embarassment of the entire situation, and now you've only gotten in worse with this compromising position you're in-

"H-hey," you say, your breaths quickening as you realize he is still quite literally oogling you. His gaze flicks up, the cool blue of his irises now darkened with lust as he's gone completely quiet. "My eyes are up here."

He chuckles, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth as his hand gently reaches around the curtain, the pads of his fingertips connecting with the curve of your exposed waist. You suck in a sharp breath, the steam from the shower providing no warmth under his icy gaze.

Sure, you could admit you had thought about your handsome squadmate in... rather unsavory positions before. Would you ever act on those? Probably not. You were only ever cordial before this, anyway -- but the way he was practically devouring you with his eyes right now had you feeling the need to rub your thighs together.

"You think she's still in here?"

Whatever trance Liam had you in was severed the moment you heard that taunting voice, your eyes widening with the realization.

"Probably, she never came back out."

You grabbed Liam by the shoulder, tugging him into the running water with you -- curtain be damned. You slid it shut, concealing yourself from the approaching males. Turning to face him, you see his face etched in concern. You pull him close to whisper.

"I think Ridoc and Bodhi are in here," you explain, and Liam's lips press into a line. You brace your hands on your hips, anxious now that they'll come looking for you, watching as you went right into the wrong locker room.

You turn your back to Liam, your flushed cheeks indication that you are aware the both of you are still fully nude together... only now, you're in the shower together. No barriers, no curtains between you two.

He steps toward you, his fingers cupping under the curve of your ass as he pulls you back to him. You hiss quietly, turning your neck to look up at him. He's already leaning over to say something, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

"They can... still see your feet, you know."

You look down. You hadn't even considered the few inches between curtain and floor -- they'd surely know it was you. Not many other males in the Riders quadrant had pink toenails with flowers painted on them.

Liam's hands snake around your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can instantly feel his length pressed against your ass, and as his fingers continue to trail across your dewy skin, he twitches against you.

"Fuck..." he groans, low and gutteral against your throat before placing a wet kiss against your skin. You can hear Bodhi and Ridoc poking around, their voices becoming ever so closer.

"L-Liam... please," you pant, his hands travelling up to cup your breasts in his palms. He pinches your nipples hard between his fingers, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip to stifle your cry.

"Liam, please, you have to h-help me," you plead, and he chuckles lowly in your ear. You hadn't realized that you had begun moving your ass against him, his cock now pressed more firmly against your bum.

"Oh, I'll help you," he offers, his hands grabbing your hips and turning you around to face him. His lips merely ghost over yours as he speaks, staring directly down into your wide eyes.

"But you're gonna help me too." His hands slide underneath your butt, gripping the flesh as he lifts you off of your feet. He pulls you against his chest and you wrap your legs around his waist, the feel of his erection strong against your throbbing core. He backs you up until you're pressed against the stone wall, one of his hands moving underneath you as his eyes bore into yours.

"There -- now no one can see you." He grins, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. The muscles of his shoulders flex, and you watch as his hand moves in time beneath you; realizing he is stroking himself below your entrance. The epiphany sends another wave of heat through you, and he leans in close as his tip prods at your entrance.

"Now, be a good girl for me and keep quiet?" He smirks, and you all but nod before he slowly pushes himself inside of you, each inch stretching your aching pussy deliciously.

"Mmmm," You squeeze your eyes shut, trying your best to stifle your moans as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt, only pulling out a few inches before roughly shoving back in.

Your eyes fly open, your mouth wide as you stare up at him. He simply smirks at you, one hand palming your ass and the other bracing against the stone wall. He continues fucking himself into you, slowly at first, drinking in every quiet whimper you let out for him.

"So tight," he rasps, his gaze focusing on your breasts pressed against him once more. You fight to keep any noises at bay, worried that Gods forbid another person pulls back the shower curtain-

"Ohhhh! Looks like Y/N came in here on purpose, huh!" Ridoc's taunting voice bellows, a blast of cool air flooding the warm shower as he yanks open the shower curtain. Your nipples harden at the sudden temperature change, only seeming to turn Liam on more. Ridoc chuckles at the scene before him, and you watch as your trainer approaches from behind.

"It's... it's not what it looks...like-"

"Oh, I think it's exactly. What it looks like." Bodhi cocks an eyebrow, glancing to Liam who has not let up on his relentless deepstroking. "Is this exactly what it looks like?"

Liam smirks, glancing between you and the two males watching the scene before them. "Oh, it is exactly what it looks like."

You gasp, looking up at him in disbelief. "Liam! What-"

"I've heard enough." Bodhi says, raising a hand in silence. He only sighs, his eyes raking over your naked form before him. Your cheeks heat as Liam adjusts his angle, his hand gripping the back of one of your knees as he drives into you harder. You can't help the moan the escapes; the sheer force at which he's fucking you is enough to make anyone wet at the sight of it.

"Thought she deserved something -- been a pretty good girl for me, anyway," Liam praises, and Ridoc rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well she was bein' a fuckin' brat during training today-"

You glare from your place on the wall, watching as his devilishly handsome lips tilted up in a smirk.

"Ridoc... I said... shut... up..." you pant. Bodhi leans against the stone wall, chewing on the inside of his lower lip as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust Liam gives you. "Ah... oh.. fuck, Liam I'm-"

Liam groans against the hollow of your throat, his cock twitching inside of you before shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your pussy. The tether inside of you snaps, your warm release trickling out of you and running over the curves of your thighs. You're panting, still coming down from your high when Ridoc opens his mouth again.

"Why don't you shut me up then?" He says, his voice thick as he pushes his sweat shorts over his muscled thighs. Liam places you gently back on the ground, the aftershocks of your first orgasm finally wearing off as you saunter toward Ridoc. You shove the shower curtain aside; clearly, there was no concern for getting clean anytime soon.

Approaching the bench where your clothes lay, you push against his shoulders, watching as he yields to your touch. He lies flat on his back near the edge of the bench, his toned legs tapering off the end to where his feet plant flat on the floor.

He grins cheekily up at you, his eager hands guiding your waist as you swing your leg over his chest. He grips at your thighs, squeezing your skin as you position your leaking heat just above his awaiting mouth.

"This will do," You say, looking down at him and smirking. He groans, fingers pulling you to sit all the way down on his tongue. Immediately he gets to work, his lips exploring each and every inch of your throbbing core while his hands grip your ass, perched lightly on top of his chest.

"Ohhh... fuck," you moan, your fingers threading through his onyx locks as you begin to lightly rock your hips against his expert tongue. He licks up into you, illiciting more whines of pleasure from you as your fingers tug on his locks. He growls into your cunt, the sound sending another wave of pleasure through you that has one hand leaving his hair and playing with your nipple instead, imagining how good his mouth would feel there if this was any indication.

"Ridoc, yes, yes..." You chant, your eyes drifting toward the abandoned shower you had retreated from before. No longer is Bodhi leaned against the wall -- the space is empty, save for a few articles of clothing on the ground.

You let out a sharp gasp as your hair is suddenly yanked, forcing your chin up as dark brown eyes stare lustfully down at you. From the corner of your eye, you watch as a blonde head strides over, sitting on the bench a couple of feet away and leaning against the row of lockers.

"You don't seem so eager to get to bed now that your cunt's being eaten," Bodhi snarls, his gaze trazing over your face contorted in pleasure. You can't think of a witty a response, no comeback in mind -- especially as Ridoc moves below you, his nose prodding against your clit. You let out a breathhy gasp, your mouth hanging open and Bodhi only shakes his head at you.

"Mouth looks a little empty," he grits out, gripping your chin harshy before releasing you. He strides before you, his fingers tugging on his length before sitting in front of you on the bench. Your mouth practically waters at the sight; he's huge. He sees it too, as he scoffs at you.

"You wanna mouth off all night -- bend over and take it all then," he challenges. Ridoc's hand moves to grip his own length, moving in quick thrusts as you bend before him, lowering on your hands until his glistening tip is positioned just before your lips.

"Said you could handle a man yourself... handle me then," he looks at you darkly, and you glare at him, shoving his entire length down your throat in one thrust. You gag around him, his intimidating size measuring up. When you draw your head back, his hand threads through the mess of a ponytail you have left, roughly gripping the back of your head and forcing your mouth all the way back down on his cock.

"Fuck... so pretty, taking my dick all the way down that little throat," he groans. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the combined sensation with Ridoc's punishing tongue nearly pushing you over the edge almost too much. When Bodhi releases you again, you stick out your tongue, and he taps his length against it.

"Fucking hot," he mutters, watching you through half-lidded eyes. You dare a glance to your right, catching sight of Liam relaxed on the nearly bench, fisting his own cock at the sight of you getting both males off at once. His head is rolled back in pleasure, his eyes closed as he drags his fingers up, and down, and up...

You don't have time to warn Ridoc before your orgasm rolls through you, your thighs shaking beside his head. You glance up, surprised to see Bodhi panting heavily as you continue sucking him at a slow, punishing pace.

"Fuck... oh fuck-"

He plunges his cock deep, shooting his cum down your throat. You gag, the size stretching your throat around him as he whimpers before you with each twitch of his cock. You focus on swallowing every last drop; though a small part of you cheers in silent victory that you have Bodhi Durran whimpering for you.

✧･ﾟ: *

You're spent. You're absolutely spent; surely, you'd been in here hours now, the three males delighting in pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, and you doing the same for them.

Nonetheless, you still find yourself happily sitting atop Ridoc's lap, bouncing on his thick length in the early hours of the morning.

"Fuck, Y/N... just like that, bounce that ass on my dick, just like that," his arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you against him as you ride him, milking every last drop out of his delicious length. It was the only time, you'd admit, you liked hearing the sound of his voice.

"Tongue," Liam commands, and you open your mouth wide, letting your tongue fall out per his request. He grins, giving your head a little pat before tapping it with his silky-smooth dick.

"Good girl," he praises, slipping into your awaititng mouth with ease. Your eyes roll back, his tip hitting the back of your throat as Ridoc's thrusts were now brushing your cervix. Your hands gripped his shoulders, and he delighted in the way your strangled groans sounded right next to his ear.

It was the sharp slap on your right butt cheek that had your walls fluttering around Ridoc though, Bodhi's fingers lightly tugging on your hair again in silent control.

"You like being fucked, is that it, hm?" He asked, landing another slap against your skin. You cried out, Liam pulling his cock from you for only a moment to hear your pleasure-filled screams.

Another slap -- this time, you felt yourself on the edge.

"Fuck!" You sobbed, your fucked out expression staring at Liam with your rounded eyes. He sucked in a breath, his hand working his cock as he slipped his thumb into your mouth.

"Taking it so well..." he mumbled, his eyes closing only for a moment before sticky spurts of cum covered you, painting your chin and neck with the evidence. He sighed in pleasure, Ridoc slowing his relentless pounding before he pulled his dick from you, his cum shooting across your boobs and painting your skin in his seed.

"Fuck... I'm so close," Bodhi groaned, his hands hauling you off of his friend and bending you over the sink. Before you had a moment to adjust, he filled you with his length, his hips snapping against your ass harshly. His fingers gripped your throat, tilting your chin to gaze at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth dropped open, watching the attractive male behind you fuck himself into you mercilessly.

"This perfect fucking cunt," he grunted, his chocolate curls swaying with each thrust. "Watch how good you take it, baby," he ground out, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your stomach tightened, your eyes rolling back as his dick rubbed against your sensitive spot.

"Bodhi... Bodhi, please, I'm cumming-" You squeaked, and with a few sharp thrusts, he came inside you, pulling out to watch hungrily as the white liquid dripped out of your raw cunt. You gripped the sink's edge, panting as the weight of the evening's activities took hold of you. Glancing to the shower, you sighed, chuckling at the thought.

"You still have time, if you want to actually clean up before class," Ridoc chuckles, pulling his shorts on from behind you. Liam yawns, stretching his arms wide as he glances at you through the mirror. Bodhi grabs your clothes, extending them to you. You take them with a shaky hand, chuckling softly and shaking your head. You could barely believe the direction the night had gone.

"Yeah... I think I may just skip class today."

✧･ﾟ: *

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dreamersparacosm · 5 days ago

Text

jeon jungkook - 15 minutes

warnings ; idol!jk, hairdresser!reader, oral (m recieving), short n sweet sex cause he only got 15 minutes!

prompt ; in which it’s only going to take two to make him finish.

note ; i love sabrina and i love jk so porque no los dos

based off 15 minutes by sabrina carpenter

You must be ovulating. That has to be your excuse.

And honestly, if you’re talking about everything, Jungkook should really invest in a bed for his dressing room— and you resolve to tell him once you’re no longer occupied with his heavy cock in your mouth, on your knees in his dimly lit assigned room.

His usually neat black hair sticks to his forehead, and his shirt clings to his chest, accentuating the muscles you've long since memorized. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it’s impossible. His presence is magnetic—every movement, every breath, has a weight to it, a pull that you’ve fallen into over the past few months.

What started out as a normal night on BTS’ tour — with him being gone for most of the day rehearsing, you styling the boys’ hairs much to their dismay, and then eating a quick dinner in the back room before the show — has now quickly turned into one of your elaborate wet dreams with you on your knees between his legs, going down on him like it was your last night on earth.

It began on a warm weekend in May—because really, who wasn’t drawn to him? What had begun as a harmless crush had spiraled into something far more dangerous, something he had undoubtedly noticed. Not that he minded. In fact, he thrived on it, relishing every chance to tease you, to push just enough to watch you squirm. He fucking adored it.

But despite the strict no-dating policy for the boys, he had made one thing painfully clear—no matter how much fun he had toying with you, he wasn’t about to risk his stardom for it. For you.

And you were fine with that, as long as he gave you late nights and multiple orgasms.

You're not sure what compelled you to pull him in for a deep, breath-stealing kiss before sinking to your knees after finishing his hair. Maybe it was the way his fingers had teased along your inner thigh earlier in the day, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Or maybe it was the way his biceps strained against the sleeves of his black t-shirt, taut and flexed, making it impossible to think about anything else.

Once the rest of his team had left the room, you had nearly mounted him, whispered in his ear, “How much time do we have?”

He had glanced up, meeting your eyes with a lazy grin. The faintest glint of amusement had sparked behind his eyes as he ran his fingers across your jawline. “15 minutes.”

That’s all you really needed.

Brain had gotten a little fuzzy when your fingers were tracing his collarbone, nearly tugging him in when your fingers caught on his chain.

Then, you leaned in tauntingly, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear, “Only gonna take two to make you finish.”

And that’s really all he needed to know.

All that to say - one thing led to another and you ended up sinking to your knees, his hand entangled in your hair, fingers pressing into your skull and you’re choking on his cock with your breasts hanging out the front of your bra and Jungkook’s head pressed into the couch as he struggles to keep his moans at an appropriate level.

He's close—you can tell by the way his breath turns ragged, each exhale more strained than the last. His left hand tightens in your hair, holding it back so he can see you clearly, his grip just shy of trembling. And then there’s the way he says your name—deeper, rougher, laced with restraint—like he’s on the edge of losing himself completely.

You double down, saliva dribbling down the side of your face as you push your mouth down onto it as far as you can handle, reaching another hand to jerk off the rest of his length your mouth can’t reach. The raw, guttural sound he lets out shoots straight through you, igniting something deep in your core. You moan softly in response, the vibrations traveling through him, unraveling him. His free hand clenches, then releases, struggling to find control—grappling with the restraint that’s slipping fast.

“Fuck, baby,” His eyes nearly roll back into his head when you make eye contact with him, truly a wreck. “So good for me.”

You remove your lips from his cock, your tongue running against the length of one of the veins that line him, and the stimulation alone has his whole body jolt forward. You have him right where you want him, like putty, like he’ll surrender his whole life for you. He’s been teetering on the edge since you started, and you’re determined to get him as close as possible. You wrap your lips around his tip, tongue swirling around it, saltiness of his pre-cum soaking your tastebuds.

You hum in pleasure. He moves more hair from around your face, “You are so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Shit!”

The compliments are nothing new to you. He showers you in them every time you bring him to the brink.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your lips.

“Please,” His free hand drifts to your cheek, his touch gentle, reverent, as he gazes down at you with something dangerously close to adoration. His thumb strokes your skin, a silent plea, though he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to.

Without breaking eye contact, without hesitation, you take him deeper, your lips stretching around him as you hollow your cheeks, sinking down inch by inch—slow, deliberate, watching as his breath stutters and his grip tightens in your hair.

And he’s really just a mess—hips bucking upwards, hands nearly shaking in your hair as he nearly combusts. But before he has a chance to fully finish, to let you bring him to an orgasm he so desperately needed, you remove your lips from his length with a pop. “Want you to fuck me, Kookie.”

Jungkook is pissed.

One second, he’s on the edge, drowning in the warmth of your mouth, his grip tightening in your hair as he chases his release—and then, just like that, you pull away, leaving him aching, throbbing, desperate.

His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as he stares down at you, dark eyes burning with something dangerous. And then, before you can react, he’s grabbing you—fingers wrapping around your arm, yanking you up with ease.

"You think you can just stop?" His voice is low, wrecked, but laced with something sharp, something deadly.

Your back barely hits the wall before he’s pressing against you, heat rolling off his body in waves.

"Turn around," he growls, voice thick with frustration, with need. And when you hesitate for just a second too long, his hands are on your waist, flipping you himself—bending you over, lifting your skirt up, pushing your light pink panties to the side, pinning you against the cold surface.

"You’re gonna finish what you started."

And he doesn’t hesitate. He’s smooth in his movements, like he always is, enough to confirm he’s in someone’s else’s bed when you’re not.

The second he has you where he wants—bent over, hands splayed against the wall, breath coming in uneven pants—he yanks your hips back, spreading you open for him. His grip is bruising, possessive, his frustration still thick in the air.

He knows you’re soaked, can see it dribbling down your inner thigh. Doesn’t have to do much to you. He smirks behind you, gives your ass cheek a little slap before he lines himself up at your entrance, cock splitting you in half as he fills you to the hilt.

A choked gasp rips from your throat at the sheer force of it, your fingers curling against the wall, legs nearly buckling. Behind you, Jungkook lets out an obscene groan, his head falling back, eyes screwing shut as he sinks all the way in, filling you.

The sound that escapes both of you is downright filthy—loud enough that, for a split second, you remember where you are. That the boys, the staff, other people are outside.

But Jungkook? He doesn’t give a fuck.

"Let ‘em hear," he rasps against your ear, voice thick with possession, rolling his hips slow, deep, just to watch you squirm. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips grazing your jaw before he snaps his hips forward again, sending you crashing against the wall with a whimper.

"You started this, baby," he growls, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. "Now take it."

His words cause you to let out a whimper, walls tightening around him. The moment he feels you clench around him, your body gripping him like you never want to let go, a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. His fingers dig into your hips, nails nearly biting into your skin as he pounds into you, each thrust sending you forward, your palms bracing against the wall.

"Fuck—" His voice is wrecked, his breath hot against you. "You feel so tight— shit— you’re squeezing me so fucking good."

Your legs are trembling, your body barely able to hold itself up with how deep he’s hitting, how relentless he is. Your knees threaten to give out, but Jungkook doesn’t let you fall—his strong arms keeping you upright, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"You can't even stand, huh?" he taunts, voice thick with cocky amusement, but there’s something almost wild in the way he groans right after, feeling your walls flutter around him. "So fucked out already? Thought you could handle me, baby."

You whimper, barely able to form words, and Jungkook feels it—how close you are, how your legs are shaking so bad you’re practically collapsing.

His hand snakes up your body, wrapping around your throat, tilting your head back just enough so his lips brush against your ear. "Say it," he breathes, voice dark, demanding. "Say how bad you needed this."

Your breath stutters, your vision blurring from the sheer pleasure. "I needed it—" you gasp, voice barely above a whisper. "I needed you so bad, Jungkook—"

Jungkook is so close. You can feel it in the way his thrusts grow rougher, more desperate—his breath ragged against your skin, his fingers digging into your hips like he’s holding on for dear life. His jaw clenches, a low, guttural groan slipping from his lips as he mutters a curse under his breath.

And then—suddenly—his grip tightens, and before you can even process it, he’s lifting you.

A gasp leaves your lips as he hoists you up effortlessly, turning you around to face him, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, arms tangling around his neck as he presses you hard against the nearest wall. His hands grip your ass, keeping you steady as he slams into you—deep, unrelenting, his pace nothing short of punishing.

"Fuck," he growls, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before his lips press against it. "You feel so good—"

Your head tilts back, pleasure crashing over you in waves as he takes what he needs, his body pressed flush against yours, his hold possessive. And the way he’s moving? Like he owns you. Like he never wants to let go.

Every thrust is brutal, his grip on your ass firm as he lifts you, sliding you up and down his cock like you weigh nothing. Your legs tighten around his waist, your arms clinging to his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as he slams you against the wall, taking you deeper, harder, faster.

"Fuck—" His voice is raw, rasping against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours as his pace turns desperate. "You feel so fucking good—so tight—"

You can barely think, barely breathe, the pleasure overwhelming, your body pulsing around him with every snap of his hips. Your moans spill freely, mingling with his ragged groans, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

"Jungkook—" His name falls from your lips in a broken gasp, and he groans, losing it at the way you tighten around him, your walls fluttering, your body so close to shattering completely.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he pants, his lips dragging along your jaw, his hands gripping your ass even tighter, slamming you down on him with each thrust. "Gonna make a mess all over me?"

Your legs tremble, your body clenching so hard it makes his rhythm falter. "So close—" you whimper, eyes squeezing shut, your head falling back against the wall.

Jungkook growls, his grip tightening, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic. "Look at me," he demands, voice thick with desperation. His forehead presses against yours, his dark eyes burning into you. "Wanna watch you when you cum all over me."

The way he orders it—the rough, possessive way he demands your pleasure—sends you over the edge, a sharp cry breaking from your throat as you shatter in his arms. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for everything he’s worth, and Jungkook lets out a filthy groan, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you a few more times before he’s gone, too.

With a deep, wrecked growl, he slams you against the wall, burying himself inside you, his entire body tensing as he finally releases, pleasure overtaking him completely.

Jungkook’s breath is still heavy, his chest rising and falling as he slowly comes back down from his high. His grip on you lingers for a moment longer before, with a deep exhale, he finally lets you down, carefully easing you back onto unsteady legs.

Your knees nearly give out the second your feet touch the ground, but his hands are still there—steadying you, keeping you upright just long enough for you to catch your breath. His lips curl into a knowing smirk as he watches you struggle to stand properly, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

"Legs shaking already?" he murmurs, voice smug, teasing, as he steps back, reaching for his clothes.

You roll your eyes, still breathless, trying to gather what’s left of your composure. "It’s your fault," you mutter, watching as he tugs his shirt over his head, the muscles in his arms flexing with the movement.

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle, tossing his jeans back on before running a hand through his damp hair that you’ll probably need to fix. "Yeah?" He quirks a brow, pulling his lip between his teeth. "Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You’re right,” Your stomach flips at his words, heat creeping up your neck, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Really only took two to make you finish.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was in a hurry,” He scoffs, feigning nonchalance.

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek. It’s soft, fleeting, but it lingers just long enough to make your breath hitch. And as soon he does—he pulls away.

“Need you to fix my hair before I go on," he murmurs, voice low, teasing, before stepping back, slipping on his shoes, and heading for the door without another word.

You watch him go, heart still hammering in your chest, body still humming from the aftermath.

And just before he disappears out the door, he throws one last glance over his shoulder, his smirk downright sinful.

"See you in two, baby."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #bts army #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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jeonscatalyst · 2 months ago

Note

Sometimes I think about Jungkook’s NJ Vlive in 2019 and laugh about the fact that both Jikookers and taekookers think that Live was the ultimate prove of their ship. I mean why on earth do taekookers think that Live proved their ship in anyway when it was all Jikook lol.

Anyways. You once said you were going to talk about that Live (and others) in detail. Could you please elaborate on it? I would love to read your thoughts about the Live😊

Hi anon,

Sorry it took me almost forever to get to your ask. I’ve had a crazy couple of weeks lol.

I promised to discuss a few V Lives, either featuring Jikook or all the members together, that I found significant. Let’s begin with the most intriguing one, Jungkook’s New Jersey V Live from May 2019.

Before diving into the specifics of this Live, I’d like to point out an issue that many shippers, particularly Taekookers in this case, tend to have: they rarely consider the full context of moments, both before and after, and instead focus on fragments that suit their narrative. A reasonable person watching this Live along with the preceding one would not categorize it as a Taekook Live. To me, this V Live is one of the most defining moments that highlights the nature of Jimin and Jungkook’s bond. Below, I’ll elaborate on why I believe this, using tangible evidence that connects the dots effortlessly, rather than baseless speculations like “voices in the background,” imaginary snores, or random household sounds with no supporting proof.

Understanding the full context is key, so let’s start with Jin’s Live, which took place earlier that day.

JIN’S VLIVE

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The Live begins with Jin sitting alone in his hotel room, eating and chatting with ARMY. Around the 10:00, Jimin rings the doorbell. Jin answers, and Jimin enters wearing a plain white t-shirt and black pants while carrying food. This detail will become relevant later.

Jimin sits down and starts eating with Jin while chatting. At approximately 13:35 minute mark, Jimin mentions that he planned to quietly sit on the side, watch Jin’s Live, and leave, a detail that will also matter later.

Around the 18:00 minute mark, they discuss their hotel room sizes. Jin mentioned that he heard Jimin’s room is bigger than his, to which Jimin replies that the rooms are similar in structure but adds that Jungkook’s room is the biggest. This, too, will be important later.

At 30:30, Jin wipes his sweat, jokingly asks if Jimin likes the shirt he’s wearing, and then wipes his hand on Jimin’s shirt. Jimin laughs and says, “This is why I don’t wear my own clothes when I visit Jin’s room.” This playful interaction will also tie into later events.

The Live continues with lighthearted eating and chatting until the doorbell rings. Both Jin and Jimin laugh mischievously before abruptly ending the broadcast, leaving fans wondering who was at the door.

Shortly after, Jungkook starts his own V Live. Before diving into it, it’s worth mentioning that Jimin posted a video on Twitter confirming that it was Jungkook who rang the doorbell. He was upset (though not seriously) that Jin and Jimin ended their Live before he could join, which prompted him to start his own.

Jungkook starts his own Live.

youtube

In the opening seconds of Jungkook’s Live, around 17 seconds in, we can hear what sounds like a cough or sigh before Jungkook pans the camera, revealing Jimin seated on the bed. It’s important to note that Jungkook started the Live with Jimin out of view, and had Jimin not made a sound, we might never have known he was in the room.

This connects to Jimin’s earlier comment in Jin’s Live about quietly sitting in the background. The one mentioned above. It suggests that Jimin has likely done this on multiple occasions, sitting silently in members’ rooms during Lives without fans noticing. This isn’t mere speculation…it’s behavior Jimin himself has confirmed. Therefore, it’s not far-fetched to think that during past Jungkook Lives where fans speculated about sounds or movements, it could very well have been Jimin quietly present in the room.

During Jungkook’s Live, it’s evident that he’s lightly annoyed at Jimin and Jin for ending their Live before he arrived. Jimin tries to apologize, but there’s a noticeable tension in the room, especially when Jimin leans closer to Jungkook around the 53-second mark. Jungkook’s unease becomes apparent as he starts fidgeting—touching things, adjusting lights, licking his lips, scratching his nose (though clearly without an itch), and avoiding eye contact with Jimin.

This kind of nervous energy doesn’t align with the dynamic of simple friendship, in my opinion. Around 1:25, there’s an awkwardly charged moment where Jungkook appears to peek into Jimin’s shirt. Jimin notices and immediately begins rubbing his chest while saying something only the two of them seem to understand. The interaction feels intimate and loaded with subtext.

Jungkook’s uneasiness isn’t the kind you’d associate with discomfort or dislike; it’s the other kind…..you know, the kind that carries undertones of something more. Iykyk.

Side Note: One of the things that stands out to me about this Live is how Jungkook can’t seem to look Jimin in the eye throughout most of it.

Jungkook brings up his frustration again about Jimin and Jin turning off the Live before he could join, prompting Jimin to apologize and tell Jungkook he loves him while cupping his chin. Although Jungkook still appears annoyed (albeit playfully), Jimin says that since he has apologized, he’ll leave. Jungkook responds immediately with an “okay.” However, pay close attention to Jungkook’s body language as Jimin starts to leave. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jimin, stares intensely, and even begins making plans on when to see him the next day, almost forgetting he’s still Live lol.

At 12:14, Jimin reappears in the frame, heading toward the couch at the back to retrieve a piece of clothing. Let’s revisit a point I mentioned earlier…Jimin’s outfit when he visited Jin. He arrived wearing only a t-shirt and black pants, with no hoodie or sweater. We also know he didn’t have any extra clothing on him when he entered Jin’s room because his hands were full with food. So, where did this piece of clothing in Jungkook’s room come from? When exactly did he leave it there because it certainly wasn’t after he left Jin’s room and followed Jungkook to his.

Jungkook mentioned earlier in his Live that he’d been working out before heading to Jin and Jimin’s Live. This implies that Jimin must have left the clothing in Jungkook’s room before going to Jin’s room. It’s unlikely he brought it with him when he left Jin’s room because he didn’t have it then. Also, remember how Jimin joked in Jin’s Live that he doesn’t wear his own clothes when visiting Jin? This means that Jimin must have been in Jungkook’s room before going to do a Live with Jin and there is a good possibility that the T-shirt he had on wasn’t his but Jungkook’s. While this is speculative, what’s certain is that Jimin had been in Jungkook’s room earlier and stayed long enough to leave his clothing there, on a chair that also has someone’s underwear lying on it. Do with that information what you will.

Around 2:26, as Jimin picks up the clothing and starts to leave, if you listen closely, you can hear the sound of what sounds like a closet door opening and closing….a distinct creak, like those older wooden closets that open toward the front. You can even see the closet on the left near the TV.

The timing is notable because before this sound, all we could hear were Jimin and Jungkook talking, along with the sound of Jimin’s footsteps so I can’t think of anything else that could make that sound at that particular moment. What’s intriguing is that Jimin pauses and doesn’t walk directly to the door to leave. You can clearly hear his footsteps stop as the creaking sound is heard and then starts again after and then stops again. Why would he seemingly stop to open and close Jungkook’s closet before leaving if he is just a guest in that room? Again, do with this information what you will.

Now, this next part is speculative, but it seems obvious to me that Jimin had no real intention of leaving the room. Here’s why: when Jimin announces he’s leaving and Jungkook tells him goodbye for what feels like the umpteenth time, there’s a brief silence after Jimin’s footsteps stop. We don’t hear the door opening or closing during that pause. To me, it feels like Jimin intentionally paused, trying to create the impression he had left the room while simply standing silently by the door. We’ve already established from earlier behavior that Jimin is fully capable of doing this.

Also, note the lack of resistance from either of them regarding Jimin leaving. Jimin announces he’s leaving, and Jungkook immediately agrees without hesitation. It feels like there’s an unspoken understanding between them…like they’re merely playing along for the camera. This part will become important later.

The doorbell rings, and we realize Jimin is still in the room when he answers it. He opens the door, and Jin walks in. While they laugh and chat, notice how Jimin immediately starts explaining himself to Jin, saying he was “just leaving” before Jin arrived. To me, this sounds like a guilty person trying to proactively explain their actions before being questioned. Jungkook even chimes in, repeating, “Jimin was just leaving.”

This could mean one of two things: Jungkook could also be guilty and trying to explain, or he could be subtly signaling to Jin that he wants him to leave soon too. Jin’s response, saying he was about to leave anyway suggests he understood the hint.

What stands out to me the most is Jimin’s behaviour. He seems hurried and anxious. He turned to Jin and told him to say something to Jungkook kinda like “say what you have to say quickly and let’s leave” lol. Jin then says he wants to apologize to Jungkook (for turning off the live) and Jungkook says “thank you” but again we have Jimin lol. Jimin once again says this to Jin “Jungkook wants to say something to ARMY so…..” to me he was indirectly saying Jungkook wants to say something to army so let’s leave. Jin then asks if Jungkook can’t say what he wants to say with him in the room. What is worth noting here is that Jimin seems hurried but the question is, why doesn’t he just leave by himself? Why does it seem like he is trying to get Jin to leave with him so bad? They continue with their little banter, jokes and then they try to leave again before they hear a doorbell.

The bell rings and Taehyung comes into the room. At 5:21 Tae mentions that he came because the alarm went off (the Vlive notification) . The other members start commenting on how good his body looks and he says he worked out with Jungkook which means Taekook were probably working out together when Jimin and Jin were Live. Around 5: 43 Jungkook says “ one tries to go out and one comes in” seemingly acknowledging the revolving door of visitors. Then pay attention to Jimin again. He puts his hand on Tae’s chest physically trying to turn him towards the door while explaining to him that he was just about to leave. Yet another attempt to subtly get someone else to leave the room. Tae then says he watched them on Live while having steak in his room. ( this will be relevant later).

Eventually Jimin stops being subtle about trying to get the others out. Now he says it directly ….. lmaoo.

My question here is, why is he trying so hard to get the others out of that room? First he did it with Jin, and now he is doing the same thing with Tae. If he was tired and wanted to go to bed, why didn’t he just leave? It’s not like the others being there affects him in anyway…….except perhaps, he wanted them to leave the bedroom he planned to sleep in. That to me is the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour. Mind you he said he was leaving ages ago but minutes later and two doorbells rings later, he is still there. Why? At 6:21 you literally see Jimin let out an exasperated sigh and his body language tells that he is hurried and uneasy.

At 6:23, Taehyung asks “whose room is this.

The way he asks, genuinely curious shows he didn’t know. This stands in contrast to Jimin, who not only knew whose room it was but had even visited earlier and left his clothing there. This single moment should be enough to debunk any claims of Taekook being real because why wouldn’t Tae know his boyfriend’s hotel room? Mind you this wasn’t the first time we got evidence of him not knowing Jungkook’s room while they were on tour but Jimin always knew. Do with this information what you will.

Tae then moves towards the chair where Jimin picked up his piece of clothing earlier and we find out from him that there was an underwear laying there. Now there is speculation that it might have been Jimin’s because his other item of clothing was laying there but we don’t have any definitive evidence to support this so we leave it at a maybe.

The guys go on to joke about the underwear and later Jungkook’s clothes while Jimin sits on the chair with the camera. He looks kinda fed up and later he gets up and says he is leaving. I think he leaves for real this time cuz you can hear the door open and close. Jin leaves shortly after and we are left with Taekook.

Tae asks Jungkook if he had something to eat and Jungkook says this “ I don’t eat anything at dinner time” not “ I didn’t eat anything for dinner” or “I haven’t eaten yet. The way the sentence is phrased shows that he is informing Tae that he usually doesn’t eat dinner and not just today which means that is information Tae didn’t know. This seems like a small detail but why wouldn’t Tae know that his boyfriend doesn’t eat at dinner time? It raises the question of how well Tae knows Jungkook’s habits. Tae then says he is on a diet these days too but Jungkook reminds him that he earlier spoke about eating steak….

At 9:18, the doorbell rings, and both Jungkook and Taehyung go to check. Jungkook says the person rang and left, but you can still hear the doorbell ringing as Jungkook opens the door. Unless the person ran away at superhuman speed, it’s unlikely Jungkook didn’t at least see who was there.

What is worth noting here is that immediately after that doorbell, Jk starts asking Tae when he would be leaving. Now, many taekookers say that it was probably a staff ringing to ask Jk to end the Live but if that was the case then why wouldn’t Taehyung understand and then immediately leave when Jk started asking him to? Later on we see that Jk keeps subtly asking Tae when he would be leaving but Tae is clearly stubborn about leaving. Remember how I asked to take note of the way Jimin and Jungkook had a quiet understanding about Jimin leaving? I don’t see any reason why Tae would have been stubborn about leaving on camera if he knew he wasn’t really going and was just putting up an act. If anything he would have wanted to quickly leave so jk could end the live and they spend private time together but instead he was stubborn about it.

Jk asks Tae again when he will be leaving and Tae says he will leave after Jk is done with the Live. Jk then says he is going to shower and that Tae can continue with the Live. Watching Jk, it is clear he wasn’t going to shower with Tae on Live. I think he wanted Tae to leave but didn’t want to be direct about it so it doesn’t come off rude on Live. He starts fidgeting around, picking and folding ziplock bags lol.

At 9:59 or 10:00, there’s an audible cough-like sound coming either from the bathroom or outside the hotel room door. The echo makes it more likely to have come from the bathroom. At first, I thought I might be hearing things but what convinced me is the fact that , before this sound, Tae had the camera panned towards Jungkook but after the sound, Jungkook audibly asks Tae to “stay put” and then he walks towards the bathroom and we can hear him say something from a distance. Remember that Jimin had a little cough while on Jin’s Live, and even when Jk’s Live started, we only knew Jimin was there because of his little cough and we also saw him cough a few times during the Jk’s Live.

At 10:05 Tae asks……

Taekookers interpret this as evidence they were sharing a room. However, when Taehyung entered the room earlier, he didn’t even know it was Jungkook’s room and had to ask. If they were sharing a room, wouldn’t Taehyung have known? Taekookers argue that he was pretending not to know to avoid suspicion, but if he was trying to hide their relationship, why would he then ask this question that could supposedly expose it? The reasoning seems contradictory.

I’m not sure if there was a translation error or if there is some context we are missing but he clearly wasn’t sharing a room with Jk else he would have atleast known the room and also known that Jk doesn’t eat at dinner time, no? This might just be me but this question from him felt calculated and I could be wrong but I suspect it has something to do with that cough sound we just heard.

After this, Jungkook once again subtly suggests Taehyung leave, mentioning that he needs to shower and go to bed. Taehyung eventually decides to leave, and we hear the door open and close as he exits.

Note the contrast between Jungkook’s reaction to Taehyung leaving and his earlier reaction to Jimin leaving. This observation speaks volumes. Do with it what you will.

Once Taehyung leaves, Jungkook continues the Live, but it becomes obvious he’s distracted. He frequently glances to the side, seemingly at something or someone in the direction of the bathroom. Jungkook is not great at masking his expressions, and his unease is noticeable.

At 12:00, something white flies across the frame, which Taekookers claim is a candy wrapper thrown by Taehyung. However, it’s clearly just lint; it’s too small to be a wrapper thrown open and if it was folded before it was thrown, it wouldn’t have gone in that speed.

At 12:20, it is even clearer that someone or something is distracting Jungkook from the side because he looks to the side, laughs and then you can hear a faint whisper of “Saranghe”. Jungkook looks really uneasy too and if you know him even a little you’d easily recognize where else you just saw him look that kind of uneasy and with whom.

When Jungkook was alone with Taehyung in the room, he appeared calm and relaxed, even though he seemed slightly exasperated while asking Taehyung to leave. With Jimin, however, Jungkook was visibly uneasy…fidgety, scratching his nose, avoiding eye contact, and barely managing to look at Jimin. This unease, while subtle, speaks volumes about the dynamics between them. While some people interpret uneasiness as a bad thing…. in this case, it tells us whom he has something to hide with and who he doesn’t.

At 12:44, Jungkook looks to the side again and laughs, further indicating something or someone off-camera is drawing his attention. His behavior is strikingly similar to how he acted around 2:20 earlier in the Live, when Jimin said he was leaving. Jungkook’s distraction is impossible to miss; whoever is in the room is clearly holding his attention more than the Live itself. Someone he is desperately trying not to look at but failing woefully?

This Vlive for me stands out as an extremely significant moment for understanding Jikook. Just like you anon, I honestly don’t understand how anyone could watch this Live and genuinely believe it was anything other than a Jikook live. While Taekook had some lighthearted and cute moments, they didn’t suggest anything beyond friendship. On the other hand, Jimin and Jungkook’s interactions, body language, and subtle cues paint a much more complex picture.

I’m not one to jump to conclusions based on every sound or coincidence in a Live, but this particular VLive offers enough factual evidence to support the idea that something was going on between Jimin and Jungkook. The before-and-after context makes all the difference.

For me, it is never just about a particular moment but about the beginning and after of that moment. So many taekookers believe this Live to be a Taekook Live because many of them don’t know what happened before and after. The Live before was between Jin and Jimin so many Taekooker probably didn’t watch it but what they don’t realize is that, without starting from that beginning, you miss out on a lot of context or important information like Jimin’s jacket being in Jungkook’s room before he went for a Live with Jin or other little information we got from Jimin like the fact that he doesn’t wear his own clothes to visit Jin and that he is capable of hiding in the corner and watching members do Lives. These seemingly small details add up to tell a larger story.

This is one of my favourite Lives and as promised, I would try to elaborate more on other Lives I thought were significant to understanding Jikook more.

#jikook #jungkook #jimin #vlive #weverse live #Taekook #Vlive analysis #taehyung

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utopiastri · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, hello!!!

May i request sleep deprivation for the fic prompt, pretty please???? To be honest I'd be so happy with any ship (bc im obsessed with ur writing), but mayhaps landoscar or maxcar???🥺🥺🥺

Hope you are having a wonderful day!<3

-💫

💫 anon!!! hi lovely! thank you for the prompt! i hope you're having a lovely day too and i hope you enjoy some maxcar!!!

Of all the people that Oscar expected to bump into whilst walking around Monaco at 5am, he wouldn’t have bet on Max Verstappen.

Or, well, he wouldn’t have bet a lot on Max Verstappen – Monaco’s tiny and Max does live here, so it’s not entirely unreasonable to run into him. But still.

5am.

“Oscar! Mate, hi!”

Oscar does his best not to wince at how cheery Max is. From the way Max’s face falls slightly, he’s guessing he doesn’t do a particularly good job of it.

“Hey, Max,” he says quietly, giving him a tired smile.

“What are you doing up so early? I wouldn't have guessed you were a morning person.”

“Just, um, going for a walk, I guess.”

Max frowns. “Hm.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. Oscar prays that the street lighting is dim enough for the dark circles under his eyes to stay hidden.

Eventually, when it becomes clear that Max isn’t going to say anything else, Oscar says, “Right, uh, I’ll see you.”

Oscar’s barely even turned around to start walking in the opposite direction when Max calls out, “Wait! What are you doing after your walk?”

Living the Monaco high life, Oscar thinks to himself, going back to bed and tossing and turning for another six fruitless hours.

“Nothing much,” is what Oscar actually says. In fairness, it isn’t exactly a lie.

“I was just finishing up my run. You should come back to mine for some breakfast,” Max suggests.

Oscar gives Max an assessing look and notes that he looks more like a person about to go for a run than one just finishing one up. Max folds his arms and raises an eyebrow, as if daring Oscar to call his bluff.

On another day, maybe Oscar would. But he feels so tired his bones are heavy with it and giving in is the much easier thing to do.

“Yeah, ok.”

Oscar doesn’t realise that the breakfast invite is a trap until he’s blearily blinking his eyes open a few hours later. Or, maybe ‘trap’ is the wrong word. ‘Trap’ implies that there was some trickery or persuasion involved. Max didn’t exactly have to do much convincing to get Oscar to take a seat on his sofa. And Max certainly didn’t have to do much convincing to get Oscar to let his eyes flutter shut, since they were very much doing that of their own accord.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Max calls from the kitchen. Oscar slowly begins to register where is. He bolts upright when he realises that he managed to fall asleep on Max’s sofa when the poor man had only invited him in for a pastry and some coffee.

“Shit, Max, I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to stand up from the sofa and only managing to almost fall flat on his face, his legs getting twisted in a knitted blanket Max must’ve thrown over him. His face flares bright red and he refuses to look in Max’s direction.

Unfortunately, Max has other plans. He feels Max’s gaze burn into the side of his face until finally Oscar looks up and meets Max’s eyes. He’s smirking ever so slightly.

“No apologising. You needed sleep and, for whatever reason, you cannot get it at home. So you slept on my sofa.” Max says it so matter-of-factly that Oscar almost finds himself nodding along.

“No, wait,” Oscar shakes himself and reminds himself that this is ridiculous, “Max, it wasn’t fair, or, I mean, it was rude of me to fall asleep on your sofa.”

“No, it wasn’t, I didn’t mind.”

Oscar groans slightly. “Well, maybe, you should mind.”

A calculating look appears on Max's face. “To clarify," he says, "You object to the part where you fell asleep on my sofa?”

“Yes,” Oscar says firmly.

“Fine. I agree you should not fall asleep on my sofa.”

“Good.”

“You should fall asleep on my bed.”

“What?” Oscar splutters staring at Max, “Hang on.”

However, Max is too busy grabbing Oscar by the arm and frogmarching him through his flat to take heed of Oscar's request for him to hang on. Oscar’s so bewildered by this turn of events he doesn’t even fight the manhandling that much. Before he knows it, he finds himself sat down on Max’s giant bed, staring up at him.

Max is smirking again.

“There, problem solved. You can’t fall asleep on the sofa if you’re asleep in my bed.”

“Max,” Oscar starts.

Max raises an eyebrow ready to counter whatever Oscar’s next argument will be. Oscar sighs.

He knows when he’s beaten. Max smile grows even wider.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me." He turns to leave but Oscar, almost without thinking, grabs his hand before he can.

His skin starts tingling where it's touching Max's and he does his best to ignore it. Oscar swallows. “Stay?” he asks, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Oscar thinks he might have found the one thing to say that would catch Max off-guard, even if that wasn’t his intention. His expression doesn’t shift, but Oscar can just about make out two dots of pink high in Max’s cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“Stay,” Oscar repeats, less of a request and more of a command.

Max takes a second but eventually nods and crawls into the other side of the bed. Oscar carefully arranges his body so it's not touching Max's at all and then has to do his best not to react when he feels Max reach out and gently interlock their fingers. “Sleep,” he whispers.

Oscar convinces himself the kiss he feels pressed to his forehead is purely induced by sleep deprivation.

#baby's first maxscar!!!#at one point i accidentally changed vibes halfway through and these two accidentally talked themselves into a game of gay chicken #i'll save that for a different maxcar fic perhaps #maxcar #maxoscar #💫 anon i love youuuuuuuu #you're so wonderful #💫 anon #drabbles #asks

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magical-reid · 2 months ago

Text

The Fine Line Between Pretending and Falling

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw! Reader

Word Count: 1.6 K

Prompt: 31: “You said you wouldn’t fall in love with me.” “I lied.”

Summary: When Ravenclaw Y/N enlists Fred to be her fake boyfriend to fend off a persistent admirer, she expects an elaborate but ultimately harmless plan. But Fred’s penchant for theatrics—and the growing feelings between them—turn what should have been a simple ruse into something much more complicated.

The problem started with Jeremy Tuttle.

For weeks, you’d tried to politely decline his advances, endure his overly enthusiastic conversations, and sidestep his relentless invitations to study together. It was exhausting, and no amount of subtle rejection seemed to deter him.

Desperate for a solution, you turned to Fred Weasley, a master of mischief and persuasion, to play the role of your fake boyfriend. His easy charm and love for theatrics made him the perfect candidate—or so you thought. What you didn’t realize was how quickly Fred would take the reins, blurring the lines between pretense and reality.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Blurred Lines

What you hadn’t anticipated was how much you’d enjoy Fred’s company. He made you laugh, even when you were determined to stay annoyed with him, and he had a way of noticing things others overlooked.

One evening, as you sat in the library revising for your Charms exam, Fred appeared beside you with a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“I figured you might need a snack,” he said, sliding the box across the table. “And don’t worry—I picked out the good ones. No earwax, I promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Fred.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a soft grin. “What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned your attention back to your notes, willing the flutter in your chest to settle.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Great Hall Incident

The plan was going well—or so you thought. By the fourth day, Fred had ramped up his efforts, wrapping his arm around you in the corridors, and occasionally whispering something teasing that made you blush.

But everything came to a head one morning in the Great Hall. You were seated at the Ravenclaw table, buttering toast, when Fred sauntered over from the Gryffindor side, earning curious looks from the other students.

“Good morning, love,” he greeted, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head before sliding onto the bench beside you.

You blinked at him, startled. “Fred, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, instead reaching for a piece of toast from your plate and biting into it with a grin.

The answer came a moment later when you spotted Jeremy entering the hall. Fred must have noticed him first.

Before you could say anything, Fred leaned in and, without warning, kissed you square on the lips.

Gasps rippled through the Great Hall as heads turned toward the spectacle.

Your heart raced as Fred pulled back, his smirk firmly in place. “Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

Your cheeks burned, but before you could respond, you caught sight of Jeremy standing frozen in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

Fred glanced in his direction and gave a small, satisfied nod before returning his attention to you. “Toast’s a bit dry, don’t you think?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Fred said, entirely unbothered, “you keep me around.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Quidditch Sweater

A week later, you found yourself seated in the Ravenclaw stands during a Gryffindor Quidditch match. It was cold, and Fred had insisted you wear his Gryffindor sweater for “authenticity.”

“You know, to really sell the whole boyfriend thing,” he’d said with a wink as he handed it to you that morning.

Now, as you watched the game, his red-and-gold sweater hung loosely on you, the scent of broomstick polish and something distinctly Fred lingering on the fabric. You felt more self-conscious than you ever had, especially when a few of your Ravenclaw friends raised eyebrows at your outfit.

When Fred scored a spectacular goal, he looped around the pitch, searching the stands until his eyes landed on you. His grin widened, and he gave an exaggerated bow in midair before flying off again.

“Ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

After Gryffindor’s inevitable victory, Fred made a show of flying over to you, landing just beyond the stands and jogging up the steps with his broom in hand.

“Thought you’d like a personal victory lap,” he teased, pulling you into a quick hug.

The sweater hung even looser now, but as Fred ruffled your hair with an affectionate grin, you realized you didn’t care who noticed anymore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Gryffindor Common Room

It was late one evening when you found yourself in the Gryffindor common room, sitting beside Fred on the worn couch near the fire. You weren’t sure how he had talked you into staying, but the warmth of the flames and the easy laughter of the Gryffindors around you made it hard to leave.

George, however, wasn’t letting it go unnoticed.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the arm of a nearby chair, “you don’t need to fool anyone here. We all know the ‘fake boyfriend’ routine is for show.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you think we’re not just this madly in love, dear brother?”

George smirked. “Because you’re sitting here with hearts in your eyes, and she’s the one keeping you grounded. It’s almost nauseating.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

George grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

Fred threw a cushion at his brother, who dodged it with practiced ease, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know, we could always move this to the Ravenclaw common room,” you teased Fred, leaning against his shoulder.

Fred shook his head, feigning horror. “Too quiet. Not enough chaos for my taste.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hogsmeade

When the next Hogsmeade weekend arrived, Fred didn’t even wait for you to ask—he showed up outside the Ravenclaw tower with his hand already extended.

“Shall we?” he said, grinning.

The walk to the village was filled with light banter, Fred making exaggerated gestures every time a group of students passed by to ensure they noticed the two of you holding hands.

At Honeydukes, he bought your favorite sweets, stuffing the bag into your hands with a mock-serious expression. “A boyfriend’s duty,” he said solemnly.

By the time you reached The Three Broomsticks, the whispers around Hogwarts had reached a fever pitch. You could feel the curious stares as Fred guided you to a table, but you found yourself caring less and less.

When the two of you finally returned to the castle, your cheeks were flushed from the cold—and from Fred’s endless teasing.

“You know,” you said as you climbed the stairs back to your common room, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

Fred leaned closer, his grin softer than usual. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he kissed your forehead, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, love,” he said, leaving you standing there, your heart racing as he disappeared down the corridor.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not Pretending Anymore

The next evening, as you sat together in the library, Fred broke the comfortable silence between you.

“You know,” he said, his voice unusually serious, “this whole fake boyfriend thing was supposed to be fun. But…”

You glanced at him, your quill hovering over the parchment. “But?”

Fred hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m pretending anymore.”

His words hit you like a bludger, your heart pounding as you struggled to find the right response.

“Fred…”

He smiled faintly, his usual bravado gone. “I’ve never felt this way before, and it scares me. But the idea of not trying? That scares me even more.”

“You said you wouldn’t fall in love with me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I lied.”

Fred’s hand found yours, his fingers brushing against your own before curling around them. “So, what happens now?”

You swallowed, your voice soft but steady. “Now, we stop pretending.”

And as his lips met yours in the quiet of the library, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable truth between you.

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fake dating #fred weasley #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts reader insert #reader insert #fluff #fake dating #ravenclaw reader #ravenclaw #magical-Reid

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merakiui · 6 months ago

Text

promising young man.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, one-sided student/teacher relationship, obsession, dark thoughts, jealousy, delusion, brief descriptions of blood/gore, violence, death, murder, brief nsfw note - riddle's perfect world comes crashing down with the arrival of foreign exchange student azul ashengrotto.

He meets him in Intro to Psych.

Azul Ashengrotto struggles to parse English, but he’s dressed like a businessman with his pressed suit and leather Oxfords. The only thing that reveals his status as a student is the black backpack he carries to class. Riddle’s seen him around campus a handful of times. It’s hard to miss him when he seems to throw himself into social circles with practiced grace.

This is the first time he’s ever had class with him, though, and so now he gets to see him in a classroom setting. There isn’t much about him that immediately strikes Riddle as odd. He’s well-dressed and prompt with a polite tongue. Every time he speaks in his thick accent, the one that just commands admiration and attention, that tiny Italian flag pinned to the strap of his bag becomes even more apparent.

Riddle’s not sure what he’s doing in this class. Perhaps he’s aiming to study law as well. He’d hoped to find more people with similar academic hobbies and interests and, while he’s yet to form any lasting bonds, he’s been wondering what sort of person Azul is.

On the first day of class, he introduced himself with confidence: “Buongiorno, amici. I am Azul. I look forward to the year with all of you.”

Though the structure and pronunciation of English proved awkward in his mouth, that didn’t stop him from opening himself to others. He’s friendly and outgoing, always welcoming conversation when it’s thrown his way. Riddle finds it impressive. If he were in Azul’s shoes, he’s certain he’d feel just a little lost attending school in a new country, far from home, surrounded by people who speak a completely different language. But Azul is resourceful, a dab hand at communication despite the barrier in vernacular. Perhaps that’s where his charm comes from.

Riddle thought the two of them might get along.

But then Azul proved academically formidable, and then you began to pick his brain after class, during time that was specifically reserved for Riddle so that he could discuss psychology with you.

So now Riddle sits in his seat, impatiently awaiting his chance.

“The law over in here is fascinating,” Azul says, leaning closer as you show him something on the desktop computer.

“What’s it like where you’re from?”

“Mm. How to explain… The law is…”

“It follows a civil law tradition,” Riddle pipes up, casually flipping a page in his textbook. He does it for show. He’s aware it probably makes him look like an arrogant know-it-all.

You peek past the screen at him. “Oh! Riddle, you’re still here. Hello!”

He hums, warming under your gaze. “I always am.”

“What was it you were saying about the Italian legal system?”

Azul stares at him. An unhappy frown tightens on his face.

Uplifted with pride, swimming in the clouds, Riddle elaborates: “I’ve only just started researching it, but it’s very interesting. In the realm of criminal law, trials are often led by judges or a select few to form a panel unlike the juries we have here. Of course you’ll find differences everywhere. All countries have justice systems and law enforcement. Still, it’s fascinating to compare and contrast the fine details.”

From across the room, Azul’s stink eye has never been more obvious.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard a few things regarding the way cases are handled over there. From what you know, Azul, would you say the system is harsher here than it is there, or is it the other way around?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Azul says, and that polite mask of his slips for a second. “I’ve never done crime.”

Riddle snaps his book shut and rises from his seat. “Let’s hope not. You’ve a promising career ahead of you.” He smiles sweetly at Azul like he’s particularly stupid.

Azul tracks him as he packs his belongings away and strides towards the door. His brilliant blue eyes are dark. “Ci fai o ci sei?” he mutters, clicking his tongue discreetly. “Rompipalle…”

Riddle will later learn these are slang phrases. He’ll learn a lot of things later—things he thought he’d never need to learn.

Thinking it a joke, you laugh and wave your hand about dismissively. “Aren’t you going to stay, Riddle? I watched the first episode of that podcast you recommended.”

Riddle perks up at that. “You watched it?”

“This past weekend, yes. It’s a riveting series. They really dig deep into the facets of a criminal.”

“Don’t they just?” He hugs his textbook close to his chest, nearly vibrating out of his skin. Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for—an opportunity to speak with you. “I’m amazed at how much time and research goes into each episode, and they always treat each case with tact. It deserves so much praise.”

Azul glances between the two of you. Riddle is sick with satisfaction. Once more, his blue hues land on him.

“You like criminals?”

“Not in that way, of course not.” Riddle shakes his head. What a preposterous assumption. “I find their minds to be exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.”

Azul blinks back at him, owlish. He doesn’t seem to grasp most of what Riddle’s just said.

“In short, I think they’re a fine learning experience.”

“An experience? Non capisco.”

“For those wishing to pursue a career in criminal justice or law. Think of it like watching a tape from a criminal investigation. It’s important to study the interview techniques and tactics utilized by detectives to understand what’s most successful in gathering a proper confession.”

Azul nods along. “Ah, capisco.”

“We’ll cover things like that later in the semester. Don’t feel so overwhelmed, Azul.”

“I’m not. I learn as I go. Grazie, Professor. You’re very kind.”

“I’m happy to help. If you ever need anything, my office hours are on that sheet I gave you. I had a colleague of mine translate the syllabus for you. If you have any questions or need accommodations of any kind, let me know.”

“I will.” He fixes the strap of his backpack and, after bidding you a final farewell, stalks past Riddle out the door. His footsteps echo down the hall until eventually they’re no more.

“Riddle, if you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”

“Of course. Anything,” he says hastily, his heart stumbling in his ribs.

“If you wouldn’t mind, could you help Azul out? I notice he struggles taking notes during lectures. If you’d be willing to share your notes with me so that I can get them translated, that would be great.”

Riddle doesn’t want to share, but this is an opportunity to be praised in spades. “I’d be glad to. I’ll scan and email them after each class.”

“Thanks, Riddle. Your notes have always been so organized. This is a huge help. I’m sure Azul will be just as grateful.”

I’m not doing it for him, he thinks, bitter and envious.

But he just smiles, standing a little taller when you compliment him.

Your notes have always been so organized.

What is he getting so territorial for? He’s had you for four classes in past years. Azul’s only known you for a few measly weeks. That’s nothing compared to the special bond you have with him.

Riddle isn’t worried.

1 September, 20XX.

Dear Diary,

(Name) Rosehearts has quite the lovely ring to it. Far more musical than that of (Name) Ashengrotto. I’m almost certain he sits there in class, silently drooling over Professor. Just last week, he took my seat at the front. The gall to do such a thing! Can you imagine? He must know that seat is the best for getting a perfect view of Professor. It’s childish to bicker over seating arrangements and I refuse to stoop to his level. That said, the seat is mine. Professor’s time is mine.

I’ve deigned to share my notes, but only because Professor put such faith in my abilities by personally asking me. Even though it’s foolish, I’m tempted to sabotage the notes so that Azul will have incorrect study material. But that would be unfair and an infraction upon all that I stand for when it comes to academic fairness. Thus, I’ve refrained from doing anything of that sort. I’m certain Professor would disapprove.

It makes me happy to know Professor listens to the podcast I recommended. I wish we could discuss it at length, but Azul is always there and he takes up so much of what little time there is. It’s infuriating. I wish he would just drop out of the class. That way it will be just Professor and me, as it was intended.

Perhaps he will once the coursework comes knocking.

Sincerely,

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle slumps forward over his desk and combs his hands through his hair.

“That rotten Azul…” he sneers, his face scrunching into something sour. “He’s always monopolizing your time… Does he not realize how important it is to me—how much I look forward to talking to you? And you smile at him… You look at him with those sweet eyes of yours and he’s completely undeserving of such treatment! It never does anyone any good to be greedy, yet there he is…”

He inhales deeply, holds it for a few seconds, and then exhales.

What am I supposed to do? How can I make this right again?

Azul isn’t breaking any rules. It’s not a crime to seek you out for conversation after each class ends. But therein lies the issue. There is nothing wrong with that. It would be wrong if, say, there was an illicit exchange between the both of you. Like a taboo relationship of sorts…

Riddle startles in his seat, his eyes blown wide.

Azul isn’t having a secret affair with you, is he? Not that it could be considered cheating when you’re not yet married (and Riddle intends to keep it that way). He has a plan. When he graduates, there will be no formal barriers holding him back from starting a relationship with you. He can email you freely without the need to circle back to academics. He can invite you for tea or coffee and the two of you can chat about things that aren’t school, and it won’t be weird or overstepping boundaries. Because he won’t be your student anymore. He’ll be Riddle, your former student. And former students have better odds than current students, do they not?

He’s thought it out carefully. He was raised to be responsible, to do everything right.

And though he’s thought of it in passing—considered what might happen if he were to try to play at being a seductive siren—he’d never truly act on such folly. But Azul… It isn’t too impossible to theorize he might be sleeping with you for a better grade. What if he’s forced you into it? What if he has some sort of wicked blackmail? What if you’re holed up in your office every day, scared for your career, while Azul bends you over the desk and uses that boyish charm of his, that silky-smooth accent, to coax the sweetest of sounds from—

Riddle shakes himself free of that thought. He’s not going to imagine it any further. He doesn’t need to be plagued with graphic imagery, gross as it may be.

Even though he chases the fantasy from his brain, it returns to poke at him. He gazes at his lap, noticing the substantial strain in his pajamas, and groans.

It would be easier if he wasn’t where he is now. Logically, he’s aware he doesn’t have much of a chance. Neither does Azul. Unless he’s sleeping with you in secret. Then he has a chance. But he’s not. He can’t. That’s against the rules.

And even if he was, it wouldn’t be very fair for him to do the very thing Riddle’s abstained from.

His hand closes around his dick. He feels pitiful as he pumps himself to scandalous visions.

It’s not fair.

He should have a chance. In a perfect world, he’d have you. He’s earned this, hasn’t he? He’s worked so hard. So why isn’t he allowed to have you?

It’s not fair.

Why does Azul get to relish in your attention when Riddle’s left alone in the shadows? Why can’t you look at him like you used to? Why can’t you praise him for knowing all the answers? Why can’t you tell him good work when he does just that? Why must you coddle Azul? Riddle thinks he can speak perfect English. He’s just playing it up to look weak and pathetic—to garner your sympathy!

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

He’s the good one. The one with perfect marks. The one with perfect attendance. The one every professor holds in high regard.

Riddle squeezes himself and sucks in a breath through grit teeth.

He’s not funny like Azul. He doesn’t have that awkward charm Azul has. He can’t speak another language fluently. He’s never traveled out of the country. He thinks he knows everything, but he only knows so much.

He can fascinate you with the intricacies of his mind, each fold primed for education, but Azul can do better because he has social experience.

Riddle can’t believe it. He, of all people, is jealous of someone.

Cum oozes from his dick and coats his fingers in a pearly-white. It isn’t satisfying.

Right then, he thinks his world would be better if Azul stayed in Italy.

Or maybe it would be better if Azul wasn’t in his world at all.

On his way out of class, Riddle stops Azul in an empty corridor.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He blinks back, oblivious. And then he smiles, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “What I’m doing?”

Riddle won’t say it. He can’t. Because then he’d be admitting the truth Azul’s trying to pry from his heart, whether that’s his intention or not.

“You know very well what you’re doing.”

A silent head tilt is his reply.

His temper is nearing its boiling point. It’s been on a low simmer ever since Azul first bewitched you, and it’s threatening to spill over.

“I see the way you and Professor look at each other during class. You may think it discreet, but I know.” Riddle folds his arms over his chest, feeling very proud of himself for successfully playing Sherlock. “I can tell there’s nothing formal about it. So how long has this been going on? How long have you been flouting the rules?”

Azul stares at him. His shoulders shake with his chuckle. “You’re funny.”

Riddle startles. His accent—

“I’m here to learn just as you are. What I do outside of the classroom is none of your business, so it would please me greatly if you could stop prying.”

His eyes narrow into vicious slits. “If you lay a hand on—”

“Oh, I’ve done more than that.” Azul smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his sweater vest. The same brand of sweater vest that Riddle wears. “But you have no proof. The courts here will want that, won’t they? Or is it harsher here? Will you need to peer inside Professor to see for yourself? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never committed a crime.”

Disgust pools in his stomach. He feels like he could vomit, and it isn’t because he’s appalled by the conspiracy Azul’s proposed. It’s because he should’ve been the one to do it if it was that easy. Instead, he musters a mean glare.

“Who are you, Ashengrotto? What do you want?”

“I’m just a student like you. I want to learn lots from Professor.” He brushes past Riddle, his voice a melodious hum. “And some things can’t be taught in the classroom.”

Riddle opens his mouth to let the angry tirade fall, but he chokes on the words. There’s so much he wants to say, but all of it will come out accusatory. And that’s where Azul has him pinned. It’s all baseless accusation.

He doesn’t want to believe it. Surely you wouldn’t… It’s impossible! An academic and social infringement! It’s wrong!

It should’ve been him.

Later that evening, cooped up in his room, Riddle scrawls furious lines in his diary: He’s a liar. A cheat. An embarrassment to this institution. I should be the one who holds Professor. I should be there in Azul’s place. I’ve worked so hard. I deserve it. I’ve earned it!

He can’t let this madness go on any longer. He won’t tolerate it.

Looking at it logically, Riddle has illustrated the negatives and the positives in his notebook.

If Azul’s insinuations are true, then all Riddle needs is valid evidence. Unfortunately, that would mean you might lose your job given the circumstances. If it’s consensual, both of you are equally at fault. If it’s not, Riddle hopes Azul will burn in a terrible blaze.

But if you do happen to lose your job, it would relieve some of the weight burdening his situation. He could start a real relationship with you. It’s plausible! Perhaps not very realistic, but there’s always a shred of hope to be found in misfortune.

Riddle wonders if he should just ask you and save himself the headache.

He gazes sidelong at Azul, who has since claimed that seat for his own, and chances a glance at his open notes.

That’s Riddle’s handwriting.

He’s sure of it. That’s his handwriting. He writes his notes in cursive. He writes in a perfect, elegant slant. His letters always connect. There’s no denying it; that’s his handwriting on the page.

A disturbing thought crosses his mind: Has Azul been practicing my handwriting?

It sounds impossibly silly. Who would devote so much time to something so witlessly fraudulent? Riddle wracks his brain for a reasonable explanation. Why would he need to practice someone else’s handwriting? Riddle could understand if Azul struggled to write in English. Most of his work is submitted in his native language. You allow this exception even though Riddle finds it unfair. Maybe it’s because you treat Azul’s work like it’s something special, and you jump through all of these hoops just to get it translated. Why can’t you treat his work with that same amount of care?

Riddle drags his pen along the page, scribbling mindlessly. Why is he doing that? He has nothing to gain from writing like me.

But then Riddle realizes the notebook is the same as his. The same color, in fact. He wonders when Azul purchased a new one. Did he purchase a new one, or has he always had this one?

Riddle looks down at his notebook.

That’s Azul’s handwriting.

He blinks twice and rubs frantically at his eyes. When he looks back at Azul’s notebook, it’s to a page filled with Azul’s stylish scrawl.

Have I…been copying him this entire time?

No, surely not! He would never plagiarize. That’s one of the biggest sins of academia. He couldn’t live with himself if he did that!

Besides, he’s not the copycat. It’s Azul in his sweater vest, boasting the same writing implements as Riddle, using the same brand of notebook. Riddle’s not copying him. It’s Azul. It must be.

It can’t be Riddle. He’d never do such a thing.

After class, you call Riddle up to your desk. He hesitates, his heart thrumming wildly, and shuffles over.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Riddle, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” You withdraw last week’s assignment from a folder and set it down. “You wrote this, did you not?”

Riddle scans the typed document. “I did, yes.”

“May I ask if the Italian was intentional?”

“The Italian?” he parrots, confused. “I don’t understand what—”

In between brilliantly articulated paragraphs, he’s sprinkled in Italian words and phrases.

He coughs out a rattled laugh. “I must have been studying it for another assignment before I did yours. I…can’t believe this happened. It was fully unintentional. I’m very sorry.”

His face is flushed cherry-red. He’s never felt more humiliated.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to ask. It definitely confused me.” You take the paper from him, smiling that understanding smile he loves so much. But then, rather intrusively, he wonders how many times those soft-looking lips have been on Azul, wrapped around him, sending him to cloud nine… “I actually asked Azul to translate it for me. He said all of it was written correctly. You must be very adept in your Italian.”

“I… I suppose I am,” he answers after a tense minute.

His brain is swirling like sediment stirred up on the ocean floor. When did I pick up Italian? I’m not taking any language courses this semester. I don’t even own an Italian dictionary… Just what in the world is happening?

“Ah, you don’t have to look so pale! It’s not going to affect your grade. I only wanted to fulfill this nagging curiosity of mine. Thank you for all the good work you do.”

Riddle nods mechanically. When you ask if he has time to stick around and discuss more psychology podcasts, he shakes his head and mumbles a feeble excuse.

He tears through his desk and all of the drawers in his room in search of it. If it’s not there, he can relax. If it’s not there, he can chalk it up to stress. If it’s not there—

It’s tucked away in his bookshelf. A little pocket dictionary. English to Italian. And it’s been bookmarked and annotated.

Riddle pulls it from the shelf in a baffled daze. When did he get his hands on this? More importantly, when did he read through it? In a hurry, he empties the contents of his backpack and flips a few pages in his notebook.

His notes from class. Dated for today. Written in Azul’s script. And at the top of the page, an exact copy of his signature, a name that isn’t Riddle’s: Azul Ashengrotto.

Riddle peers at his trembling hands. He flexes his fingers, curls them into a fist and then unfurls them.

He seizes his psychology textbook next and skims the chapter index in search of an answer. He lands on it. Page 371. Dissociation.

Two minutes into a phone call with Trey, he’s asked a simple question: “Are you speaking with an accent?”

Riddle bristles. “Of course I’m not. Of…course I am not,” he says, sounding the words out. His brow furrows. Why does my tongue feel so clumsy in my mouth? “I’ve always spoken this way, have I not?”

“I can’t say. I mean, come on, Riddle. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg.”

“You know very well I don’t pull legs, Trey.”

“You told me buongiorno when I picked up.”

“I did not!” he snaps, scandalized. “I said good morning as I always do.” And then he pauses. “I… I did say good morning, didn’t I?”

Trey’s silence is answer enough.

Riddle sucks in a sharp breath. Neither of them says anything.

Eventually, Trey speaks. “Do you want me to come up there? I could bring you a tart or…something. You sound…tired.” He chooses his words carefully. “Silly question, I know, but I’ve gotta ask. You’re not overworking yourself?”

“No, not at all.”

“And you’re getting enough sleep? What about food?”

Riddle frowns even though Trey isn’t there to see it. “I’m fine, Trey. Midterms are coming up. I’ve got to focus. I refuse to fail.”

Again, the other end is quiet. A minute later, Trey says, “Do you have time this weekend?”

“This weekend?” Riddle flips his planner open to this week. “I do.”

“All right. Is it cool if I visit?”

Riddle almost declines, so it surprises both him and Trey when he replies with, “Please.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, and the call ends before Riddle can say grazie.

Trey brings six strawberry tarts. Riddle shares three with him over tea at the campus café.

“So what’s up?” Trey points his fork at Riddle. “You sound like yourself, but you don’t seem…fine.”

Riddle chews thoughtfully. He can’t confide in Trey because Trey wouldn’t understand. Because he’d apply Trey Logic to everything, and Trey Logic is almost always sensible. Riddle doesn’t want to hear it.

“I submitted an assignment in Italian,” he says instead, casually, as if it’s not a big deal.

Trey looks at him like he’s grown a third eye. “Since when do you know Italian?”

“I dabble.”

Trey laughs. Upon seeing Riddle’s serious expression, the humor sticks in his throat. “Oh, you meant that. Well. That’s…good then? If it’s for a foreign language course—”

“It was for psychology.”

“You…wrote in Italian…for a psychology assignment?” he reiterates, attempting to parse it. He drags his fork through his cut of tart, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips. “Why?”

“I couldn’t say. It perplexed me to no end when I realized it. My professor thought it was curious.”

“It is. I mean, you don’t find that just a little…unusual?”

Riddle stares at him over the rim of his teacup.

Trey tries again. “Was the Italian correct, at least? It wasn’t all nonsense?”

He nods. “It was as if I was translating and switching between words. Like using the Italian word in place of an English word.”

“Huh…”

“It’s not very impressive. I can do much better than that.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities. I’m just…trying to understand why.”

Riddle smiles. “Why not? I think it’s very good to study another language. It opens more doors for opportunity, and it’s a challenge that proves rewarding in the end.”

“Is that it?”

“Precisely.”

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt there. Trey changes the subject. They chat the afternoon away.

Later, Riddle returns to his diary.

He writes an entire entry in perfect Italian. Workbooks pile up on his desk; he’s not sure when they got there. He’s filling them out so fast his hand gains new calluses.

Azul visits your office around the same time Riddle used to. Now it’s Riddle who trails after him, hoping to catch him in the middle of a nefarious scheme. He’s not sure he’s ready for whatever he might learn, but he swallows his rage and carries on.

Azul turns just as Riddle ducks around the corner, perfectly out of sight. He waits until he hears the tell-tale click of those pristine Oxfords against linoleum before continuing. Azul walks right past your office and then he’s gone. Looking both ways, Riddle creeps further down the hall.

Where is he?

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around, startled, and is about to unleash verbal tyranny when he stops short. You stand there, looking positively puzzled.

“Are you looking for something, Riddle?”

“No… I—” He cuts himself off. “Actually, I was hoping I might discuss something with you. The final project.”

“Oh, of course! Did you come earlier? I stepped out of my office for a second. Sorry if my absence had you looking all over.”

Riddle falls into step with you. “It’s quite all right.”

He’s not sure what he hopes to find by sitting in front of your desk, gazing at the familiar interior of your office. He manages to get through all of the questions you ask him regarding the final project.

“I have too many ideas,” he lies, “and I’d like assistance in narrowing the topics down to one.”

He glances slyly at the floor. Would Azul be bold enough to hide a voice recorder or a camera somewhere? Or is there something of Azul’s left in here? A cheeky means of marking his territory, maybe?

Riddle turns up empty.

He stalls the conversation expertly for ten more minutes. During that time, he can’t locate anything from his semi-thorough observations.

Maybe it’s hidden in your desk. Maybe there’s nothing at all.

No. No, there has to be something.

He thanks you for your help and, shouldering his backpack, leaves.

Just as he turns down the hall, Azul steps into his path.

“Your mind is exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.” He snickers like a devil. Riddle wants to punch him. “So many ideas. Where do you have the space for all of that?”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, is that so?” Azul taps at his phone and then turns the screen towards Riddle. There’s a picture of him in the hall, looking awfully disoriented. “It’s not very polite to stalk now, is it, amico?”

Riddle narrows his eyes. “How easily that accent comes. Almost like flipping a switch.”

“Non capisco.”

“You should know you’re going to ruin your life and Professor’s.”

“I’m not.” He smiles cryptically. “You’re going to ruin it for me.”

Fed up with his attempt at mind chess, Riddle stalks past him in a huff.

You walk into class five minutes late, disheveled and breathless. You’re babbling about a meeting that ran late, but Riddle can’t trust that.

Meetings don’t end in frazzled hair and crooked ties.

What’s even more damning, perhaps, is when Azul Never-Late-to-Class Ashengrotto walks in fifteen minutes after you. He sits in the seat beside Riddle. There’s not a hair out of place on his person. Except there is. The glass face of his luxury wristwatch is smudged with a fingerprint.

Riddle wonders what forensics would have to say about that.

He phases in and out of focus during the lecture. He can’t stop searching you for fine details. He can’t stop questioning Azul’s presence beside him.

How dare you? he thinks. How dare you defile my professor? What makes you think you have the right to do such a thing when I’ve been working hard all this time? When I’ve been nothing but perfect…

He glances at his notebook. A single phrase has been scrawled over and over, so manically that the lines loop and overlap in angry criss-crosses. Lo voglio morto.

At the end of class, Riddle catches Azul in the hall.

“I would like to review with you for our upcoming midterm.”

“What an honor.”

Riddle hums. “Let’s compare our notes tonight. You can stop by my room after dinner.”

Azul grins like he can read through Riddle. Like he’s in on a joke Riddle’s not privy to.

“I would be happy to study alongside you,” he says, his accent thick.

Riddle imagines a rope around his neck. A rope of thorns and barbed wire, pressing into his jugular until, inevitably, it severs his head clean off.

Azul arrives on time. He really does feel like an echo of Riddle. Same school supplies. Same notebooks. Same fashion style. Same manner of writing.

Riddle shuts and locks the door behind him. He doesn’t waste time waltzing around the subject.

“You’re the reason Professor was late today.”

“You’re mistaken. I simply lost track of the time.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is? I had nothing to do with Professor’s tardiness. If it bothers you so much, why not tell Professor to be more conscious of the time?”

Riddle grits his teeth. He’s sick of this. Sick of these mind games. Sick of all this mental chess.

Sick of the fact that he gets to have you when you should have been Riddle’s from the start!

“You’re a liar! Do you know the gravity of your actions—the severe consequences that’ll undoubtedly befall Professor? Do you know you’re jeopardizing a brilliant mind all for your own immature fun?”

Azul holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Those are harsh accusations. They could ruin my life, you know.”

“Oh, like that’s such an issue.” Riddle scowls.

“Your room is quite nice, I must say.” Azul looks around, his hands in his pockets. He spies the many Italian workbooks lining Riddle’s shelf, and a slimy smirk pulls at his lips. “Imitatore,” he marvels, his eyes bright with an eerie sort of joy. As if he’s just discovered a particularly filthy secret and can’t wait to tell someone.

“If it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

“And what makes you think Professor would ever entertain you?” Azul rounds on him, still smiling. “Professor loves me most. There was never any room for you.”

Riddle hears the distant crackle of something fraying. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? All I did was take your best characteristics and make them even better. Italian lovers are a romanticized ideal abroad. You were never an option, let alone a consideration.”

How dare you. How dare you. How dare you!

Azul steps towards the door. “Addio. Le mie condoglianze.”

That something inside Riddle finally snaps, and with it goes his restraint. He grabs Azul’s wrist and yanks him to the floor. There’s a struggle for survival. During the scuffle, Azul claws at Riddle’s arm and face. Riddle kicks him down. And then his fingers wrap around his psychology textbook—all 800-something pages, a hardcover—and he brings it down, brutal like a guillotine.

“How dare you walk away in the middle of a conversation!” he berates, lips curled in a monstrous sneer. “How dare you touch what isn’t yours—what you didn’t earn!”

He thinks he sees a real smile on Azul’s face, but in the midst of blind rage he can’t tell.

He sees red. He feels red. It splatters his room in a mess of broken bone and pulpy gore. It flecks his face, warm and thick and soupy.

It all ends with Intro to Psych.

Riddle is bathed in blue light, afloat on a chaotic sea.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, he can hear his mother in hysterics: What have you done?! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done—the future you’ve so carelessly thrown away?! All of my hard work?! Do you realize what you’ve done?!

And he does.

If there’s anything Riddle has ever been one-hundred-percent certain of in his life, it’s this. He sits on the steps to his dormitory, battered and bloodied, and bites into the strawberry tart clutched between crimson-stained fingers.

Despite the crisp autumn air, he feels warm.

An officer approaches him just as he’s licking his fingers clean of strawberry and blood.

He holds his arms out before the woman can say anything. He already knows what comes next.

Riddle has always wondered what criminals think and feel in the aftermath of grisly crimes. He can’t feel much of anything other than hollow relief. Maybe that’s just the adrenaline snuffing logical thought and remorse. He thinks everything and nothing all at once. He’s sure he’ll feel it all come crashing down when he’s sat in the station for questioning and then the reality of his actions will seep in, awakening him from a vile, murderous dream.

Right now, he isn’t concerned with that.

You lived filthy and you died just the same, Riddle thinks as he’s led to a police car. And now there’s no part of you Professor will ever want.

#happy very belated birthday rido <3 #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #tw: student teacher relationship #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: blood #tw: violence

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writtnbyhan · 1 year ago

Text

Let me take care of you.

PAIRING: han jisung x reader

TAGS: sickfic, idol!han, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 1927

PROMPT: "and just when were you going to tell me about your [injury/illness]?" You're sick and Jisung is worried -- That's the plot.

warnings: mentions of being sick (reader has a cold). Let me know if I missed a warning.

author's note: i don't know where this came from. I had something very different planned for today's post but this came to me in a vision and now i can only think of jisung taking care of his s/o, he's so baby and he's probably so good at taking care of people !!!!! i just wanna be in between his arms !! being cared for !!!

Okay, here’s the thing: you knew you were getting kinda sick. You knew from the way your body ached when you first woke up, from the sore throat and from the general feeling of being unwell. However, you decided it was not a big deal, and that was obviously your first mistake.

It was Jisung’s kind-of-free day, which meant he only had to go to the studio with 3RACHA to work on “some stuff”, as he put it himself, refusing to elaborate claiming that it was a surprise. You knew they were probably working on music for the next comeback even when this one wasn’t even out yet, and that’s why Jisung wouldn’t come clean, wanting to avoid your reprimanding from overworking themselves when they finally have some free time from the studio, only having to comply with the schedules related to the comeback.

On these days, he was usually only busy for a few hours before they got distracted with something random and therefore decided to call it quits, going home and relaxing for a few hours before moving onto the next scheduled activity. Today, Jisung didn’t have any of those, only going to the studio and then straight back home. You didn’t want to ruin what little time together you were getting these days, and you weren’t actually sick yet, so it wasn’t anything you should worry about.

You woke up alone, the other side of the bed unmade from when Hanji woke up, earlier, and went to the gym before the studio. He spent most nights with you, cuddling to make up for the time you weren’t capable of being together due to busy schedules and responsibilities. Everything ached, and the only thing you wanted to do was cover yourself with the sheets and sleep some more. But, you couldn’t do that. You needed to take a shower, clean up a bit, and force yourself to feel better. “Just for today, tomorrow we can be sick,” you told your body as you got out of bed, frowning and closing your eyes when the light coming through the window was quick to cause you a headache.

Shower first, you decided, going for the warm water and hoping it’d help with the pain on your body. It did, luckily. You then brushed your teeth, noticing on the mirror that the bags under your eyes were darker and more noticeable. Yes, you were obviously getting sick. Tomorrow. You were getting sick tomorrow, because today you had to spend the day with Jisung and cuddle with him watching Ghibli movies, it was a need.

After breakfast, you took some ibuprofen and sent Jisung a quick text.

“good morning, baby. hope everything’s going well at the studio, missing you already :)”

Putting your phone down after that, you set out to clean up the apartment, taking more ibuprofen whenever your body was being inconvenient to you.

“hello cutie, we’re actually wrapping up for the day!! going home in 30, love you.” You read the text when ten minutes had already passed since it was received. With a smile on your face, you sent a quick reply, knowing it wasn’t necessary given that he was already coming home, but also knowing that he would sulk if you didn’t reply to his “love you”.

“love you too<3 will be waiting with the popcorn ready.”

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and conditioning the living room for

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and setting up the living room for your movie plans, bringing all the blankets you could find (which was not actually necessary, but you were starting to feel cold so you thought it’d be better to have those around) and the pillows from your bed.

As you were placing the popcorn on the table with some juice, the door opened, and in came the squirrel-looking boy that was able to put a smile on your face instantaneously, even when you were feeling so ill.

“Hello, my love!” you said, dramatically, bringing a hand to your own chest as if to hold your heart. “I thought you’d never make it, I was left missing you for too long!”

He smiled with that heart-shaped smile that made your heart do spins. You felt dizzy just by looking at him (okay, maybe that was the cold you probably had, but you decided to convince yourself it was Jisung’s fault). “My lady, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, shall we begin with our plans?”

You giggled, skipping towards him to give him a kiss on the cheek and drag him to the couch that was currently surrounded by blankets. You chose one and threw it over both of you, getting comfortable in between your boyfriend’s arms with the remote in hand.

Halfway through the first Ghibli movie of the night, you began sneezing.

“’m sorry” you mumbled, getting up to grab some tissues and noticing you felt much more sick than in the morning.

You should tell Jisung, you knew that. But he’d worry, and you didn’t want to cut your night together short.

So, you didn’t. You grabbed the tissues and got back into his arms, kissing his hands when they were in front of you. Jisung freezed when you did that, and you frowned — it was a common gesture between the two of you, why was he reacting like that?

His hand went quickly to your forehead.

Oh, that.

Jisung gasped.

“Baby, you’re burning up.”

He sounded worried, and you sighed.

“I know.” You said. You didn’t actually know you had a fever, but you didn’t want him to make a fuss. You wanted to watch movies together, and cuddle, and sleep. And okay, maybe you had a headache and that had made you grumpy, which was something that always happened when you were sick so Jisung was used by now to your complaints about his caring.

However, despite knowing you always reacted badly to feeling unwell, that comment had made him frown, looking at you while his hand was still on your forehead.

“You knew?” he repeated, clearly agravated by what you had just told him. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me? When you collapsed in the hallway or while I was being forced to bring you to the hospital?”

He was being dramatic, of course, but the sincerity in his worry and his concern made your heart soften a little, so you directed your eyes to the floor, blinking to try and ease the headache that had formed from looking at the screen for too long.

“I didn’t wanna worry you” you mumbled, voice soft and shy. He melted a little at that, his anger dissapearing almost as quick as it had made his way forth.

“Baby, you need someone to take care of you when you’re feeling like this. We could’ve just cuddled in bed so you were more comfortable, and I could’ve been checking on your temperature and your medicine. What hurts?” he asked, giving a little kiss to your forehead before letting his hold around you loosen, clearly having plans of getting up.

You whined at the lost of his warmth against your back, your eyes filling up with unwanted tears at the cold and the loneliness you suddenly felt.

“Hannie…” you cried out, looking up at him, who looked almost bewildered. When he met your eyes, a pout formed in his face. He extended his arms towards you, now standing in front of the couch, and hugged you so you could attach yourself to him like a koala would to a tree. Your hold was weak, so he made sure to keep you safe with one hand on your back while he wrapped a blanket around you as if you were a baby. You knew the plan was to get you to your shared bed so you could cuddle more comfortably and drift off to sleep when you needed it. Problem was: you had needed it for about 15 minutes by now, so hiding your face in his neck and letting his warmth envelop you, you were quick to fall asleep against him, not minding his movements or the sounds around you.

You woke up when it was already dark outside. A wet cloth was on your forehead and you were now in bed, your boyfriend’s hand on your waist and Ponyo playing in the background. You looked to your bedside table and found a water bottle and some pills that you knew you didn’t have in your house. You knew Jisung never wanted to leave your side when you were sick, no matter that you were asleep, so you were sure he had those delivered or asked one of the boys to pick them up for him.

You turned around, letting the wet cloth fall off so as to hide your face in his chest. You felt better after sleeping, and you were sure your fever had subsided because you no longer felt cold, but your throat was still sore and your eyes still stung with the light.

At your movement, Han directed all his attention towards you, kissing your forehead and tightening his hold on your waist.

“Hello, sleepyhead. You need to take some medicine, I asked Chan-hyung to bring it here because all you had was some ibuprofen, and you were running out of it. How are you feeling?” he asked, his free hand caressing your hair and making you feel a lot more relaxed, even when your back still ached and your throat hurt.

“I’m okay,” you settled for, your voice coming out raspy and probably revealing what you were hiding. He chuckled, and you knew he knew what you just said was a lie, so you sighed. “I’m feeling a lot better, but my throat still hurts and my body aches. It’s probably just a cold.” You mumbled the last part against his chest, a subtle way of saying: there’s no need to worry this much.

He nodded, which you knew because you felt his head moving above yours. “Probably. Please, take some medicine so you can feel better faster.”

You did as he asked, taking the pill he was offering you and drinking from the water bottle he had uncapped and handed to you. You smiled at him in thanks, after wincing from the bitter taste of the pill.

“Sorry for ruining or movie date.” Your eyes were sad and he knew you were sincerely sorry. A pout formed on your lips as you thought of when you would be able to have the next one, knowing it’d be difficult to plan out given that the comeback was so close.

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” he said, equally as sincere. “It’s not your fault you got sick, and I don’t mind taking care of you — I really like it, actually. Plus, I got to watch the movies while watching you sleep, so… I really don’t mind. I just want you to be okay so we can have more movie dates.”

You blushed at his words, feeling soft and just wanting to kiss him — you both knew you should not do that, for he couldn’t get sick now because he had a lot of presentations and performances to do. You pouted.

“This is so unfair, I want to kiss you so badly,” you complained, and he laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I know, baby, me too. So, take your medicine so I can get all the kisses you owe me.”

#✿ . . cami writes #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #han jisung fluff

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in-another-april · 1 year ago

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summary/prompt + genre - just a few hcs about living together with spencer | fluff

warnings - mentions of food

wc - 385

notes - hehe i'm so normal about him *eye twitch* i have more but i didn't wanna overdo it soo lemme know if i should post the part 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

- He’s pretty tidy overall, but he does have his things. Namely, the books. You’ve run out of space for yet another bookshelf, but his collection just keeps growing, so now they’re Everywhere. Every time you sit on the couch there’s something jabbing into your back and you just sigh and shoot him a lighthearted glare as you pull out his 3rd copy of The Illustrated Man from behind the pillow.

- His side of the closet is also a mess, especially the sock drawer, but he knows exactly where everything is and is surprisingly particular about his clothes. You ask if you can borrow his green sweater and he’s like “Which green, army, moss, or olive?” while you’re just ???? at him.

- He is absolutely obsessed with anything combining his two favorite things (you and books) whether its him reading to you, you reading to him, reading the same novel and discussing it book-club style, or just being in your general vicinity while he reads by himself.

- Speaking of general vicinity, he’s a sucker for parallel play. As much as he loves talking and interacting with you, he really enjoys the comfortable silence of being around you while you do your separate things.

- Stares at you with the sappiest heart-eyes no matter what you’re doing. You could be just folding laundry and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the entire world. Even if you’ve been together for years, he’s still enamored with you like a teenager with a crush.

- He cannot cook to save his life. He knows the processes and methods of cooking in theory, and can easily recite the history of practically any dish, but once he’s actually trying to make something he’s lost. He still wants to make food for you, though, so he practices up on a couple of meals he knows you like so he can surprise you with them after a long day.

- On his days off, he gets really into making elaborate coffees. The coffee from whichever local police precincts he’s working a case with is normally watered down and bitter regardless of how much sugar he adds to it, so he starts to appreciate the coffee from home a lot more and makes a whole thing of it every morning. You get him one of those fancy Keurig’s that makes espresso shots and has a milk frother and he almost cries.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #x reader #reid x reader

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deathbxnny · 8 months ago

Note

So remember that prompt i sent to you? Well here’s the request! Can i request Neuvilette, Zhongli, and Dainsleif meeting the alternate version of their dead lover? Like how would they act around the reader during their respective Archon quest? (Example, Zhongli acting weird around the reader when they were gathering materials for Rex Lapis’s funeral)

Context:

The said character used to have a lover that had died a gruesome death centuries ago. And despite the years passing by, he still hasn't really gotten over their death. He wishes he could see his dead lover again and that wish came true as when he met the traveler, he met them too but it wasn't the one had fallen in love with. It was an alternate version of his dead lover.

The reader is an alternate version of said character's dead lover. They're from another universe (maybe HSR?) and somehow got isekaied to Teyvat. Fortunately, they got dropped at the same beach Traveler and Paimon was resting in the prologue. After talking with the traveler and realizing they are in another universe, the reader decides to join the traveler in traveling Teyvat and try to find a way to go back home. Although the last thing they expect was an ancient man acting strange around them.

(Side note: The characters are not in love with the reader (who’s the alt version of their dead lover) as he did not fall for this version of his lover. Its more of a longing? Like “so close yet so far” kind of case? I hope that makes sense)

- Flower Anon 🌸

Hello Flower anon! I have finally found the time to do your request, so I hope you like this and thank you for your great ask!!<33

(Also, due to the fact that I barely remember most story quests, I've decided to generalize these a little-)

Content: Reader is dead, past romantic relationships, doppelgangers, vague descriptions of readers death, angst, hurt/no comfort, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette took a double take, a really obvious one that made the Traveler and Paimon glance at eachother in confusion at his strong reaction. His usually calm and collected persona slipped, the disbelief spreading across his face before he tried to hide it behind a cough quickly. His heart was beating out of his chest, thousands of questions plaguing his mind at once, until you nervously asked him if he was okay.

It took him only a small moment to collect himself, a deep exhale releasing all the grief, horror, and pain with it. He smiled calmly once more, chuckling as he waved off your concerns. "I felt ill." He'd say, not elaborating any further as he asked you to please continue telling him about your mission to expose the truth behind his own archon. He doesn't react further than that and stays professional to his bestest ability.

He knows it's not really you, after all. And he refuses to hurt himself any further than your death already had. This was a mere coincidence, a cruel joke of the universe that made him want to laugh bitterly.

Instead, however, the rain poured down for a week straight, despite his best efforts to stay strong.

》ZHONGLI

Zhongli doesn't have a visible reaction and strictly keeps it that way when meeting you for the first time whilst you were helping him with the "funeral". This alternative version of you seemed to be the same on the surface. But he could easily tell that you still weren't his lover that he lost so many years ago. And he supposed that it was for the best to let the past go through befriending you at least.

He observes you closely, often finding himself still reminiscing in the small actions you do share with his original muse, whilst he delves into deeper conversations with you. But that's his limit. Whether out of the respect for the dead or his need to distance himself from the tragedy that once befell you, he didn't know. But he just couldn't interact with you further than that.

He simply watches you from afar instead, as you prepare everything for the grimm festivities, his heart secretly yearning for another awfully familiar smile his way despite everything.

》DAINSLEIF

Dainsleif felt breathless at the sight of you, and for a moment, he wondered if he had imagined you. A past he desperately held onto drifted through his mind, your image perfectly clear in his memory, his heart aching desperately with the need to hold you again after the fall of your nation. Unsaid, regret filled words burned on his tongue before he swallowed them as swift as the emotions that overwhelmed him.

He ignored Paimons' inquiry over his somehow even paler face, before turning to the important mission at hand. That wasn't you, he reminded himself grimly. This doppelganger that seemed so much like you was just a pure coincidence, nothing more, nothing less. And yet those reminders did little to quell the uneasiness and ill feeling in his stomach. The memory of your death replayed over and over again endlessly for all eternity to come.

And even if it did happen to be a reincarnation of you after all, Dainsleif would have still refused to reach out to you more than he already has through the unknowing traveler and Paimon. He didn't see himself as deserving to be in your presence. That privilege had been taken from him the moment you took your last breath.

#genshin fanfics #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette #genshin zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin dainsleif #genshin Dainsleif x reader #Neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #Dainsleif #dainsleif x reader

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cursedcola · 2 years ago

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

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wooahaes · 10 months ago

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party hats & kitty cats

pairing: non-idol!lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: food. one-off line about having kids in the future. discussion of expanding the family via adopting a new cat.

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: oh to adopt a cat w lino....

Minho shifted next to you, causing you to lift your head off of his shoulder. “Hold on,” he said, voice soft as could be so as to not disturb you (or, more likely, the cats asleep around you). “Keep your head held up.”

Which was what prompted you to open your eyes right as a string fell snugly against the underside of your chin. Minho pushed it back so it would sit more comfortably, continuing to manipulate the party hat on your head until it looked right. That was when you realized he was wearing one, too.

“What?”

You’d been drifting off a little too much despite the carnage going on the screen (the powers of a bad horror movie, for sure), halfway to dreamland when he moved. The first time, you hadn’t had to move too much—assuming that Minho had just been reaching for his drink. The second time, you thought he’d been putting it back. And now he was just watching you with this playful look in his eyes, proud at his own silly little joke.

“Pretty,” he mused aloud. Then he leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss against your lips before getting up for real this time. The action earned a curious ‘mrrp?’ from Doongie, who had been sleeping at your feet until now, and Minho looked at him. “Doong-doong-ah, just stay there.”

Doongie promptly hopped down off of the couch to follow him instead, cat DNA requiring that he not follow orders from anyone but himself. You just relaxed against the couch, reaching a hand up to pet Soonie where he’d curled up to sleep. He raised his head lazily, purring once you began to scratch underneath his chin. Dori had popped his head up from where he’d been batting around a little mouse toy, watching Minho carefully as he moved about the kitchen with Doongie at his heels. You just found yourself smiling at the scene. Sometimes you joked that Minho fell in love with you once you met his cats and began to adore them almost as much as he does, but sometimes you truly think this relationship wouldn’t have lasted this long if you weren’t all-in on moving in with him and the three cats. You turned your attention back to Soonie for barely a second before you heard the click of a lighter.

And then a minute later, Minho began to sing to you. He made his way over, holding a small cake that was enough for the two of you. Doongie followed after him as he came back to you, all too curious and needing to know exactly what was going on in his home without him knowing ahead of time. Minho carefully lowered himself onto the couch next to you, holding up the cake for you.

“Did you make this?” You asked once he stopped singing.

He shook his head. “I was going to,” he said. “But I decided to focus on cooking dinner instead.”

Good, you thought to yourself. The dinner Minho had cooked for you was a little elaborate. The idea of him making you a cake and dinner, especially when the cake was decorated a little extravagantly, would have been too much. He’d pouted at you when you went the extra mile on his birthday considering how much you’d been working lately, gently chastising you when you were left exhausted after everything.

“I don’t need anything that special,” he’d told you while the two of you were laying in bed, his arms wrapped around you. “Your health is more important to me.”

You turned a little to look at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t like it…?”

“I loved it,” he kissed the side of your shoulder. “I always love the things you do for me. But…” His fingers grazed against the skin, exposed from where your shirt has ridden up. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your wellbeing for me. Okay?”

You had made him promise to do the same, something he’d easily done and sealed with a soft kiss before snuggling in for the night. Now he sat before you, the candlelight illuminating his face more than the television screen did.

“Make a wish already,” he’d lightly teased. “You can stare at me later.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned your attention to the lit candles. For a moment, you debated on what to wish for before settling on something achievable, hopefully. You shut your eyes, blowing out the candles before the smell of smoke immediately greeted you. When you opened your eyes, Minho had reached for one of the forks he’d casually left on the coffee table earlier. You’d assumed at the time that he simply brought too many and would return it to its drawer later, but of course he was a step ahead of you.

“So?” He pushed the fork into the cake, apparently intent on feeding you the first bite before he’d pass the fork to you. He held it up. “What did you wish for?”

“I thought telling you meant it wouldn’t come true?” You teased before closing your lips around the fork, sweet vanilla buttercream bursting over your taste buds as you enjoyed the first bite of your cake. This had to be the same bakery you ordered his birthday cake from last year. Their vanilla buttercream had a certain quality to it that you could never put your finger on (Felix would know, though: he’d complimented it at Minho’s party).

“Is it something I can do?” He asked. When you played up your debate before nodding, he rolled his eyes, scooping up another bite of cake for you. “Then tell me.”

“I was thinking…” You went to take the fork, only for Minho to pull it away from you. A hostage situation, apparently. Unfair. “We could maybe expand the family a little?”

He gave you the most confused look in response. “You said you didn’t want to have kids until later on—”

“Not kids,” you said. “Maybe… We could get another kitten?”

Minho nodded along to the question, thinking it over. He pushed the fork back toward you, purposefully not letting go. You decided to oblige once more as you ate the bite of cake. “We’d have to see about fostering first,” he said, already figuring out the reality of adopting a new kitten when you already had three rambunctious cats around. “Find a space that the others can’t get to while we introduce them to each other…”

Finally victorious in stealing the fork from him, you pushed it through the cake and held out a bite to him. The two of you had shared enough at this point anyway. “So we’ll look into it?”

He nodded. “I think we could. It’ll mean more work looking after them, but I think we could handle it.” He looked at Soonie, reaching up to scratch him between the ears. “Although if the cats don’t respond well, I don’t know if we could go through with it…” He hummed to himself for a moment, thinking harder about it. “Maybe a girl? It doesn’t matter either way, but maybe it’d be nice to have a girl cat around. We’d have to find one spayed or get her spayed when she’s older—”

“Minho.”

He immediately turned back to look at you, realizing how lost he’d grown in kitten adoption thoughts. His gaze flickered back to the fork in front of him, and he smiled at you for a minute before leaning forward to accept the bite. “Thank you,” he said after swallowing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you giggled. “It’s cute that you care so much.”

He lowered the cake he’d been balancing on one hand, carefully leaning over it so that he could kiss you. When he drew back, his eyes were all twinkly, so obviously giddy over the prospect of a new cat. Or maybe that was just the way Minho looked when he looked at you. His friends told you once that Minho adored you completely, and it was evident when they saw the way he looked at you.

“Happy birthday,” he said for the final time that night. “I love you so much.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

#wooahaes.fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know fluff #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #lee minho fluff #lee minho x reader #wooahaes.24

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thehypnone · 2 months ago

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Symbol on the Surface Chapter 20

WC: 800

Relationship: SwissAlps & the kits

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, 99% Fluff

They close their eyes only after sparing a minute to look at their sleeping kits—the most beautiful babies in the whole universe, if you ask either of them.

Notes: This chapter is short because the exam session at uni is absolutely killing me. That's also why there won't be a chapter next week, but I will do my best to get one out in two weeks, and then continue like normal.

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 20 under the cut or on AO3.

After having had the kits grow inside him for seven months, Swiss finds himself uneasy.

Yes, he’s very glad they have been born and are now out and healthy, but since the very idea of their existence has sparked, they’ve been right under his heart. And now?

Now he simply can’t get them close enough.

Both Swiss and Mountain are quite exhausted—as new parents always are—but while the former absolutely crashes at night, the latter stays somewhat alert. That is why one quiet squeak of discomfort is more than enough to wake the earth ghoul up.

Mountain sits up and looks down between himself and his mate to where the kits are. What he notices, though, is Swiss on his side, but leaning over the kits—slightly pressing them into the mattress with his chest.

The squeak must’ve come from Arya, but apart from that the kits aren’t showing any signs of distress. He’s not crushing them, but still, Mountain decides to wake Swiss up, lest he falls further onto them in his sleep and starts actually doing so.

“Swiss? Wake up, darling,” he whispers into the multi ghoul’s ear before giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Hmpf…wha’s wrong?” Swiss mumbles.

“Nothing’s wrong, sorry to wake you,” Mountain calms him right away, but then elaborates, “but you’re squishing our kits a little.”

Once Mountain’s words and the feeling of the kits under him register, Swiss pulls back as if he got burned, his scent immediately turning sour from anxiety.

“No way, I–I’m…I’m a horrible dad, why did–”

“Hey, hey, no,” the earth ghoul stops him before he can start fully spiralling. “Look at them, Swiss.”

The multi ghoul blinks slowly and obliges, looking down.

All three are asleep; Amon and Aelin purring, while Arya is looking only mildly disgruntled. Her little face relaxes once Swiss pulls back, though, and she kicks up a tiny purr of her own soon enough and carries on sleeping.

“Are they crying? Do they look uncomfortable? In pain?” Mountain prompts.

“No…” his mate admits, calmer already.

“They were cozy under you!” the earth ghoul quietly chuckles. “You didn’t hurt them, my heart, and I am absolutely sure you never once will.”

Swiss sighs, nodding. Mountain’s right, of course, but he really is just a ball of anxiety nowadays. The multi ghoul leans over the kits and faceplants into Mountain’s chest, nuzzling into him as his mate chuckles and brings his arms around him.

“It’s alright, my heart,” he assures and comforts him, starting to purr quietly.

“I know, it’s just…scary. They’re so small.”

Mountain hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t reply. The same thoughts and anxieties have been plaguing him; but now is not the time for a therapy session between them.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” he says instead and Swiss nods against him before pulling back. They close their eyes only after sparing a minute to look at their sleeping kits—the most beautiful babies in the whole universe, if you ask either of them.

In the morning Mountain gets a text from Omega, asking if they’d be alright to have him come over and check up on the kits—they’re a week old now, after all. Neither Swiss nor Mountain particularly like the idea of anyone touching their babies just yet, but they trust Omega and know a check up is a wise idea, so they agree. He comes over around noon and tells the parents that a quick quintessence scan and a lookover will be more than enough, so he doesn’t even have to touch them.

“All good and healthy. You’ve made some adorable looking kits,” Omega praises when he’s done, smiling down at the babies. Aelin lets out a squeak at the compliment, as if agreeing, “and adorable sounding.”

“You should hear them purr,” Swiss giggles and wiggles his eyebrows.

The quintessence ghoul turns to him with disbelief in his eyes. “They’ve purred already?”

“Yes, their second day,” Mountain replies. “Is that not normal?”

“Kits don’t usually start purring so early,” Omega starts, his smile only growing, “the typical age for that is three weeks, sometimes later. Do you want to know why they start early sometimes?”

Swiss and Mountain nod simultaneously.

“Because they feel incredibly safe and are trying to communicate that in the only way their little brains know.”

Swiss and Mountain tear up and start grinning simultaneously.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus @ghoultrifle (if anyone from here wants to be removed lmk, and also if anyone else wants to be added)

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #symbol on the surface #ghoul kits #arya ghoulette #aelin ghoulette #amon ghoul #nameless ghoul oc

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ink-flavored · 18 days ago

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#OCKiss2025 Day 5: Worship

Part of the @ockissweek event from Feb. 10-16th, featuring Xinya & Yu-Qi <- Day 4 - Day 6 -> Tips are appreciated!

Xinya clenched the armrests of her throne, suppressing the urge to launch herself across the hall. She watched, tense to the very ends of her eyelashes, as Yu-Qi followed close behind a pair of subjects come to seek guidance as they left the palace. Again.

Neither of them were brave enough to do anything about it—none had been so far—but the way they dodged her swooping in like a bird of prey was unmistakable. Yu-Qi darted around them, head cocked, and definitely trying to smell them. She kept her hands behind her back, the long sleeves of her robes obscuring just what she was doing with them, but Xinya had no doubt she would try grabbing at them any second. She’d only stopped trying to steal people’s clothes when told sternly to stop bothering her subjects. Apparently she needed to be told again.

Jao, standing ever-present at her side, glanced warily between the queen and the object of her frustration. “Your Greatness?” she asked, but Xinya lifted a hand to stay her.

“Yu-Qi, please,” she called, only barely restraining her irritation. “Stop.”

Yu-Qi stopped and turned, standing tall with an unbothered smile on her face. Her victims took the opportunity to walk faster, racing out of the throne room at a pace that would normally strike Xinya as rude. Today, she wanted to join them.

“Refrain from this and come sit quietly,” she said, not above begging after so many hours.

“But of course,” Yu-Qi replied, suspiciously agreeable. Xinya didn’t have the energy to worry about it.

She weaved around the thick, elaborately carved pillars that lined the throne room, each representing fourteen of the fifteen God-Dragons. Yu-Qi dawdled around her own pillar in particular, circling the palace artisans’ interpretation of her true form. After having seen it for herself, Xinya noted the discrepancies with uncomfortable accuracy.

With enough lethargy that it could only be intentional, Yu-Qi made her way up the short staircase to the throne. Xinya watched her carefully, the weight of her headdress threatening disgrace as she tilted her head down. Step by step, Yu-Qi held her cautious gaze, finally sitting where the flowing, golden train of her court robes ended.

“Thank you,” Xinya sighed.

“What is it like,” Yu-Qi asked, without prompting, “to sit upon that chair all day?”

“It’s uncomfortable.” She hoped the pointed emphasis was understood. “But it was built to be so, and so I endure it.”

“Why?”

“Because ruling is not meant to be comfortable.” Xinya deftly turned her hands, a light gesture to the throne underneath her, carved for the final of the God-Dragons, Keungkai. “I should not sit lightly upon my throne whilst I carry the lives of so many on my back, as the Father of the World carries us all.” She curled her fingers up to indicate her headdress, an elaborate tension of fabric, gold, gems, and ribbons. “My crown is heavy, so I cannot do anything but look forward and up to keep it on my head. And I am reminded of the burden it is to rule so long as I wear it—proudly, and with intention.”

Yu-Qi nodded at her. “So many people have come to see you today.”

“As is their right. I have a responsibility to my people.”

“It’s a bit like being a god, is it not?”

Xinya flinched so suddenly her headdress jangled, Jao sucked in a harsh breath. Yu-Qi grinned with sharp teeth, eyes round and silver as the moon of her domain. Inscrutable in her intentions.

“I—No, of course it isn’t,” Xinya sputtered, mind racing to figure out her game. Was it another one of her endless curiosities? A test of character?

“How so, my beloved? Do you think I felt much different, watching all you little creatures from my territory?”

“Very! Certainly, you must understand that I have no such power as yours! For all I wish, I cannot help every person who wanders into my chambers—you can very well tip the scales of time and space.”

“Precisely.” Yu-Qi blinked slowly around the hall, passing her cool metallic gaze across hundreds of years of art and architecture. “I have watched your empires rise and fall, and all of them have stolen the many faces of my family to declare themselves. Humans are as slavishly devoted to pretending at divinity as they are to serving it.” She twisted her body in an impossible, reptilian way to face the throne again, the same sharp smile on her face. “With what little power you have, you grasp rather tightly.”

Every drop of blood in Xinya turned to ice and sank into her bones. She couldn’t move. The massive hall felt claustrophobic as the God-Dragon of Passion stared her down, pinning her to her throne—and why? What did this mean? Was it an insult, a way to grind her beneath draconic heel? Was she meant to remember her place—a mortal at the mercy of her god? She dared to glance at Jao. Her right hand looked as shocked as she felt, mouth tightened to a thin line.

Yu-Qi moved before either of them saw her. In a single breath, she knelt at the final stair before the throne. The long train of Xinya’s robes wrinkled as she shuffled forward on her knees. With cool hands, Yu-Qi clasped her legs, and placed a gentle kiss on each of her knees. A declaration of piety, the same as all those seeking her guidance presented. Xinya struggled with the weight of her headdress.

“I’ve always wondered,” Yu-Qi said, grinning from her knees, “what it would be like to be mortal. You have taught me much, little queen.”

As speechless as if she had cut out her tongue, Xinya could only stare. Never had a show of submission felt so much like a threat.

“Once we marry, I shall teach you about divinity. It’s only fair.” Yu-Qi stood, casting a tall shadow over the throne. She whipped her head to the doors to the apartments, like a dog on a scent. “Gold? Fresh gold?”

And like a bird, she raced out of the hall. The guards knew better than to try and stop her, and she threw the doors open without a pause for breath. Xinya didn’t relax until her footsteps disappeared.

She slumped like a queen never should. Hands on her face, headdress slipping down her scalp, back hunched like a creature hiding from the rain. She slouched like a mortal under duress.

“Your Greatness?” Jao asked warily. Fabric shuffled as she crouched by the arm of the throne. “Do you need… something?”

“A way to purge the last few minutes from my mind,” she groaned.

“I can… have tea brought?”

Xinya sighed, but uncovered her face. “A fair substitute.”

“Right away, Your Greatness.”

Jao bustled down the stairs, robes flowing in her haste. With an extra weight on her neck, Xinya adjusted her crown and sat tall on her uncomfortable throne. As a ruler should.

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