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meltedbluecaterpillar · 3 months ago

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I Don't Care!: Diasomnia

Heartslabyul - Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomfiore - Ignihyde

Romantic Jealousy: Based on real or imagined threats to a romantic relationship. There could be a history of infidelity or flirtations; however, this could also be solely based on insecurities. Sexual/Suspicious Jealousy: Based on fears that a partner may have cheated or be engaged in inappropriate communication.

Does he get jealous?

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is very aware that he isn't as social as his peers. So when Floyd comes to tease you he can't help but get emotional...

Malleus crossed his arms over his chest, watching the scene unfold with knit brows. Classes had ended for the day, and Malleus had made his way through the halls to retrieve you from Ace and Deuce and all of the other students that tended to cling and hover around you.

Malleus personally disliked it. It wasn't that you having friends upset him. It was the way they appeared so close. How they all seemed to yearn for your attention. Malleus was the object of your affections. No one else. The only 'person' he begrudgingly shared with was Grim.

So seeing Floyd wrapping his arms around your shoulders left his stoic expression twitching and contorting into a silent fury. Malleus couldn't see your expression. But through body language alone he could tell you were uncomfortable. Floyd cooed and lifted you off your feet as he squeezed your body. Until he noticed Malleus in the corner of his eye.

"Shrimpy, Sea Slug came to getcha." He sang softly as Floyd smiled as he pivoted, holding you against his body as he and Malleus locked eyes. "Guess that means we can't play today." Floyd held his stare with Malleus, disinterested in the way the clear sky began to swirl with darkened clouds. How the wind started to pick up and shake the trees. Floyd snickered before letting you go, you stumbled as your feet suddenly hit the floor, and Malleus reached out to catch you. Causing their locked eyes to break. "Specially 'cause Sea Slug seems mad..." His tone was still playful, but the twin seemed to be making a brisk walk in the other direction down the hall.

Malleus assisted you in standing, his hands holding your shoulders as he looked you over. The silent fury had melted into melancholy. "Are you alright?" He asked, the dark and heavy clouds had began to produce rain over the campus. Something that wasn't on today's forecast until now.

You nodded, thanking him with a sigh. Floyd was too rough, too handsy. You didn't like it. You asked Malleus to lean down so that way you could thank him. You pressed your lips against his cheek. And with his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed a dusty rose pink;

The weather had cleared again.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia didn't view himself as insecure. He was just having a hard time seeing Ace so close to you...

Lilia is an old man. You are not. Sometimes he would watch you run and play with those closer to you in age. Lilia was 700 years your senior. He had no issue with taking your hand when he discovered his feelings for you.

But with age comes with new anxieties. He wouldn't live forever. But there was a chance he would outlive you as well.

He stood near the once empty classroom. Listening in on a conversation being had between you and Ace. He never meant to pry on you personal matters unless you brought them up to him. But Lilia couldn't help it. "I do like you." Ace admitted, his tone awkward as Lilia leaned against the wall. His arms crossed as a frown rested on his lips. "And I know you're with Lilia but... I'm just saying, he's a thousand years old-" Lilia's eyes turned towards the tips of his shoes when you corrected Ace. Reminding your classmate that Lilia was a few hundred years younger than one thousand.

The conversation continued with Ace making an attempt to convince you to leave Lilia in exchange for him. Ace is around your age. He's human. And you would be perfectly happy with a more 'natural' arrangement. A Fae and a human was extremely uncommon in this world. In your world, Fae didn't even exist.

You raised your voice, startling Lilia as he listened to you shout at Ace. How he was just a little 'booger' and making a suggestion like this had to be one of many other reasons why he was still single. When Lilia heard you storming towards the door, he dashed down the hall and into another empty classroom to hide.

His heart thudded in his ribs. Lips parted as he caught his breath. His face warm as his hands now clenched into fists at his side. Lilia was upset with Ace making a move on you.

But he was ecstatic to know that you truly did cherish him just as much as he cherished you.

Silver Vanrouge

Silver already has so much to worry about. Something about Deuce being your friend made him worry...

Silver couldn't help how often he dozed off. His head bobbed as he sat on a small plastic chair beside you, leaning back with a stern look as he fought against his desires to sleep.

You were holding a stop watch and a small clipboard. Coding everyone on the track team for their times as Coach Vargas barked for everyone to pick up the pace. Silver didn’t mind. He knew that you liked to help your first year friends.

It was early in the morning on a Saturday. A little chilly, but nothing Silver couldn’t handle. But just for you, he had brought a black parka with the Diasomnia emblem for you to wear as the two of you sat in the cold air.

Now it was time for the team to take a break. Get some water, check on their time, stretch if they needed to. Deuce came over with a bright smile. Silver liked Deuce. He's a good boy with good intentions. He cherishes his mother and he has lots of growing to do. His eyes fluttered shut as the two of you talked. His head bobbed again. Even after an energy drink and a paper cup of coffee, he still couldn't stay awake.

"O-Oh but... I mean we don't have to do it like a date..." The words that left Deuce's lips filled Silver with the energy he needed for his eyes to shoot open. He sat up in his chair and looked at Deuce. "I know Deuce, it's just studying." You smiled up at him. Deuce awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Still smiling as Silver stared in disbelief. Maybe he misheard something.

Deuce wouldn't pull that in front of him. There's no way. "Is it okay if I join?" Silver asked the two of you. His expression hardening as you turned to face him with a soft laugh. "If you want. We're just going over some stuff for a test on Monday." You and Deuce are classmates, even though you're Silvers age.

But something didn't sit right with Silver. Especially since Deuce looked disappointed after he invited himself to the study session. Or 'date', according to Deuce.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek doesn't believe in jealousy. But Ruggie proves that to be false...

Sebek narrowed his eyes, his teeth dragging into his bottom lip as he saw Ruggie holding one of your books above his head. Tossing it between one hand to the other. He was smirking, trying to get you to play with him.

"Is he a middle schooler?!" Sebek huffed and made his way over, now standing behind you as he easily took your textbook back from Ruggie. "Enough! No horseplaying in the halls!" He shouted as the beastman looked up in shock. And so did you. But you looked much happier to see Sebek than Ruggie did.

"Great, Loud Mouth is here." He huffed in annoyance as he folded his hands behind his head. "I was just messing around, don't burst a vein." Ruggie grumbled as Sebek handed you your textbook back. Remaining behind you with his hands now attaching themselves to your shoulders.

"I am not a Loud Mouth! And I am sure the Prefect doesn't appreciate you bothering them." Sebek didn't realize he was causing a scene now. Ruggie started to smirk again. "How would you know?" The hyena asked as he started to take a step away. "You have no idea how close we actually are Sebek. Since you're always gushing about your boyfriend Malleus-" "Lord Malleus is not my boyfriend!" He snapped as he started to slowly process what Ruggie said.

You and Ruggie are friends. Sebek was aware of that. It didn't bother him, until right now. You barked at Ruggie to leave Sebek alone, and the hyena only snickered and made his way down the hall. Vanishing among the sea of students. Sebek is one of Malleus' retainers. His job was to watch over the future king of Briar Valley. Sebek wasn't the best at managing his time between you and Malleus. But he did try.

So what did Ruggie mean by that? Was he just talking to hear his own voice? Or was something else going on?

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fireinmoonshot · 4 months ago

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the tyler owens effect | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: After realising why other storm chasers think you and Tyler are dating when you aren't, you confront Tyler about it, only to be surprised by his solution. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader drinks a beer. Word Count: 1.9k A/N: Surprise! Is there any better time to start writing for Tyler Owens again than when a cyclone is meant to make landfall in Australia tomorrow? I don't live in the direct path of it but we have had some insane wind and a lot of rain is forecast for the weekend, so I figured it was the perfect time to write for him again. Enjoy! 💗

Before you and Tyler started dating officially, everyone from the other storm chasing teams always assumed you were a couple. You never really understood why – he always treated you like every other member of the Tornado Wranglers and you were nothing more than just two good friends.

It’s only when you’re out having some drinks with the other storm chasers in the motel parking lot that you realise exactly what it is that makes everyone assume.

You’re standing by the cooler, a beer in hand, talking to Kate and keeping an eye on Boone – who is already several drinks deep and very much out of it – when you feel a hand on your waist. It’s gone just as quickly as it came and you already know it’s Tyler before you even look at him. He doesn’t even look at you as he steps past you to bend down and grab a couple of drinks out of the cooler.

Kate stops talking mid sentence, noticing your attention has shifted elsewhere. “I didn’t realise the Tyler Owens effect was something a fellow Tornado Wrangler could be affected by,” she says, expecting you not to hear her.

You blink, looking away from Tyler and back at Kate. She has a small smile on her face.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“My point exactly,” Kate takes a sip of her drink and shakes her head, laughing a little. You really were so clueless, even after working with Tyler every day.

You narrow your eyes. “Kate.”

“I said that I didn’t realise that Tornado Wranglers could be affected by the Tyler Owens effect.”

“The Tyler Owens effect?” You almost laugh. “Is that a thing?” You’ve never heard of it, even though you’ve been a member of the Tornado Wranglers for a few years now.

Kate nods. “What, you haven’t noticed that everyone turns to look when Tyler enters a room? I don’t think it’s all cause he’s a semi-famous storm chaser, either. I think it’s more to do with the fact that everyone finds him so good looking they can’t help but look at him.”

You stare at her for a few moments and then laugh. You being caught up in the Tyler Owens effect? Please. You can admit that he’s good looking, but so is Boone and so are plenty of other storm chasers you see on a daily basis. You’d only been looking at him before cause he’d walked behind you and made you aware that he was there. It’s totally normal for you to watch him – he’s one of your best friends. The butterflies in your stomach don’t count for anything.

Before you can reply to Kate, you catch Tyler stand up from the cooler, closing the lid and moving back towards the two of you. He has two beers in his hands – likely one for himself and one for another member of the Tornado Wranglers. He holds the necks of both beer bottles with one hand.

“Ladies,” he says in way of greeting.

He doesn’t stay to talk, though. He has a beer to deliver. As he walks past you and Kate, his hand touches your waist again, having to get past a group of storm chasers that are headed for the cooler after him. You ignore the chill that goes down your spine at the feeling of his hand on your waist.

It’s then that the realisation hits.

Tyler always touches you – especially when you’re in public. A hand on your waist as he’s moving past you in a room, an arm around your shoulder when your’e sitting around a make-shift bonfire in a motel parking lot, holding your hand to get you through a packed crowd of storm chasers at a gas station…

“I have a question,” you look back up at Kate, having turned around to look at Tyler as he walks away. Kate is looking at you with a knowing smile on her face, as if she already knows what you’re about to ask her. “Is the reason why people always assume Tyler and I are together is because he touches me so casually? Like just then, he put a hand on my waist as he walked past.”

Kate can’t help it – she laughs. “It took you long enough to realise that. To everyone else, it looks a hell of a lot like a boyfriend just being touchy with his girlfriend.”

“Oh, god,” you run a hand over your face. “That is so…” You take one final swig of your beer before handing it to Kate. “I need to talk to Tyler. I’ll be right back.”

You spin on your heels immediately, heading in the direction Tyler had been going before. The parking lot is crowded but not so crowded that you can’t see where he’s sitting with Dexter and Dani. He’s sitting on the tailgate of his truck, beer in hand.

Tyler spots you when you’re not too far away from him and raises his hand to wave you over to them. He taps the tailgate beside him, motioning for you to join him there.

“What brings you over this way, darlin’?” He asks, flashing you a grin.

You give a quick greeting to Dexter and Dani before looking at Tyler again. “Ty, we need to talk.”

His eyebrows furrow briefly but he continues acting playful for the benefit of Dexter and Dani. “Well, that never ends well,” he says, setting his beer down on the tailgate beside him. “Can you watch that? I’ll be back for it.” He asks the other two.

It’s second nature for him to reach down and grab your hand, starting to walk you away from your friends and towards the motel, near where your room is and away from all the storm chasers chatting. You’re so used to holding his hand that you don’t even remember that the whole reason you’ve come over to talk to him is to stop him from holding your hand and initiating other random touches.

It’s a little quieter over by your room. There are a few people milling about here and there, going into their rooms or coming out of them, but it’s much better compared to being in the thick of the storm chasers.

“What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” He asks, letting go of your hand and leaning up against one of the poles holding up the second floor hallway. You can tell he’s worried just by the sound of his voice.

You sigh and prepare yourself for what is likely to be an incredibly awkward conversation on your behalf. Tyler will probably barely even blink at it. You, on the other hand? You’re ready for a lifetime of embarrassment. “Are you aware that a heap of other storm chasers think that we’re dating each other?”

Tyler slowly nods. “Yeah, I’ve had a few people ask me if we are. Why?”

“I know why,” you continue. “You know how you held my hand as we were walking over here? And you came over to get a drink earlier and put your hand on my waist when you were walking past. Kate even confirmed it. People always think we’re dating cause they always see us touching like a couple would.”

Tyler is a little confused. He’s never really put two and two together but it makes sense. He doesn’t touch anyone like he touches you. You are the only person whose hand he holds and whose waist he touches as he passes by. He never even really means to. He just always finds himself drawn to you and it’s just habit at this point. He supposes that the crush he’s been harbouring for a few months now would have something to do with that.

“Do you want me to stop doing that?” Tyler asks, genuinely concerned. If it was something that made you uncomfortable, he’d stop doing it immediately.

You open your mouth to say yes, but stumble over the word. You know without even thinking about it properly that you’ll miss the comfort of holding his hand or having his hand on your waist if you stop him from doing it… it’s not that you don’t like it, it’s more just that you don’t want people to assume anymore.

“No, I just…” You trail off and shake your head. “I just want people to stop assuming that we’re dating when we aren’t.”

Tyler looks at you for a moment, then swallows and says “Well, maybe we should just date then.” He shrugs a shoulder, making it look like he’s someone who is totally cool, calm and collected about this – as if his heart isn’t beating a million miles an hour in his chest and he’s not quietly terrified that you’ll shut him down.

You stare up at him, opening and closing your mouth a few times when your mind goes blank and you can’t find anything to say to him. “I– what?”

Tyler clears his throat. “Go on a date with me, a proper date.”

“A date… with you…” You repeat. “Tyler, how many drinks have you had tonight? Are you drunk?”

You know that he isn’t. He’s not a particularly heavy drinker, often choosing to keep reasonably sober. But for some reason, the words coming out of his mouth make it seem like he is. Why would Tyler Owens be asking you on a date? He’s your co-worker, your friend… and you get butterflies in your stomach whenever he smiles at you. Totally normal, right?

Tyler chuckles. “I’ve had half a beer, darlin’, I’m not drunk. I’m asking you a genuine question right now. Will you go on a date with me? You said you want people to stop assuming that we’re dating, so let’s date for real and they won’t have to assume anymore.”

You let out a breath and shake your head. “Ty, I… you don’t have to offer me a date just cause you feel bad that I don’t like people assuming things about us, okay? We can just make an effort not to do things that make them assume.”

“Do you not wanna go on a date with me?” He asks, a tinge of hurt in his voice. He considers you one of his best friends but he can understand if you don’t feel the same way about him as he feels about you. “If you don’t, just say so and I’ll drop it. But if even one part of you wants to… say yes, darlin’.”

“Yes,” the word is out of your mouth before you even register it. You throw a hand up to cover your mouth, a little shocked at your own instinct. “I mean… okay, yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” Just to test whether the butterflies in your stomach really mean something or not… just to see…

Tyler can’t keep the grin off his face. He isn’t as terrible at guessing things like this as he had started to wonder he was. “All right,” he smiles. “So, give me a couple days to work somethin’ out and I’ll keep you updated.”

You laugh. “You’ll keep me updated? Ty, I see you every day. I sit in the back seat of your truck for like twelve hours a day.”

He shrugs, a smile on his face. “You’ll obviously be upgraded to the front seat if things go well on our date. I couldn’t have my girlfriend sitting in the back seat while Boone sits up front.”

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Don’t go getting ahead of yourself, darlin’,” he teases.

You gasp. “You were the one who said it!”

Tyler laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon, my beer is getting warm waiting for me over there and I can feel Dexter and Dani’s eyes staring a hole in the back of my head. And I’ve got a busy night of date planning ahead of me.”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters x reader #twisters x you

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parfaitblogs · 7 months ago

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snow on the beach ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend takes you to see the snow in the oddest of places.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. mention of a past fling (between spencer and r). snow on a beach? word count: >1k a/n: summer fling!spencer reid/reader is a dynamic ive been cooking up with margot... here is them as an actual couple for liamas. we'll give you their origin story one day.

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

"Do you want to see the snow?"

When your boyfriend had asked you that nine hours ago, you did not expect to be stuck inside a car for eight hours straight. With one singular pit stop for the bathroom and some dinner. You could've cussed him out on the spot.

You didn't.

Instead, as you stepped out of the car at an awfully familiar location, you whipped your head around to Spencer Reid, and asked, as calmly as you could, "Were there no closer beaches?"

"None that have forecasted snow like this," he answers, and you had to give him credit, for it was probably true.

There were flurries of snow surrounding your bodies, catching in your hair and on your mitten clad hands, and you could see a few flakes of snow fall on Spencer's own skin. You smile.

"Besides," he says, taking your hand within his and tugging you along the path down to the beach. "None have sentimental value like this one."

"You hate it here," you comment, your feet dragging along in the sand as he pulls you closer to the crashing waves on the shore.

"I hate the water here. Bad memories."

"Same thing."

"And you love it here," he murmurs, barely audible over the wind rushing past your ears, and so he tugs you closer to him, arms looped around your waist.

"I do love it here," you nod, hands tracing up his arms. "I've never seen snow on a beach."

"Do you like it?"

"It's so pretty," you mumble, turning your head to the side, staring out at the water, vision clouded by the falling snowflakes. "C'mon."

You pull on his arm suddenly, and he's shocked into stumbling after you, before he realises the direction you're headed, and he's stammering out a mess of denials.

"Hey, no. No, no. The water is ice cold. That can shock our hearts and cause panic, or spike our blood pressure and that can cause heart failure and—"

"—Are you eighty and vulnerable?" you muse.

"Eighty, no. Vulnerable, maybe. I'm not in the business of discovering if I am. You shouldn't be either."

"Spencer, our feet in the water won't kill us," you say, slipping your shoes off your feet, grimacing at the mix of cold sand and snow beneath them.

He seems to give up trying to fight your decision. Perhaps keenly aware that you're not backing down, and instead follows suite in taking his shoes off.

"I'll put you on my cause of death," he grumbles.

"No. You're gonna live forever, boy genius," you deny, dragging him closer to the water.

Icicles prickle your skin as you step into the freezing water, and you almost sorely regret your decision. Spencer's in the same boat, and you feel his hand around yours squeeze your palm at the feeling. The sight's enough for you to relax a little, and laugh at him.

Once your blood circulates better — or your feet go numb — you lean into Spencer, staring out at the moon.

"At least I'm not throwing you into the water this time," you chirp after a few moments of quiet.

It was the middle of the previous summer, before you and Spencer had even told each other about the feelings you had for the other. Feelings that were, frankly, quite obvious, now looking back on it. You blame your obliviousness on attraction hidden under the guise of never being more than a summer thing.

If only you knew then.

You had taken him to this very Falmouth beach at night, begging him to go for a night swim with you. It took a whole lot of convincing before he had even agreed to put his feet in the water, claiming he hates how unpredictable the ocean can be, even in the shallowest of shores.

Though, rushing water around your ankles meant his already less-than-perfect balance was thrown off incredibly, and you were able to tug him down into the water. Evidently, soaking both himself, and you.

You're pretty sure the way he reacted is what solidified your feelings for him.

Instead of freaking out on you and being angry, he had laughed, spluttered the salt water and sand out of his mouth, and simply splashed you with the ocean.

You weren't going to do the same thing tonight, though. As much as you'd hate to admit it, the water was freezing cold, and you really weren't interested in submerging yourself within it.

"That's true," he agrees. "Though, I think losing my feet to hypothermia might rival being as bad as you soaking me."

"You'll be fine," you shrug, waving him off.

More minutes pass, as you stand there, the only sounds coming from the rushing water and the wind blowing snowflakes around your two bodies. The sky is painted with the snow that falls, white on black.

"I love this beach," you say, decidedly, the beauty of it all making you oddly sentimental.

"We've established that," he teases.

You shove him with your shoulder. He shoves you back.

"Personally, I hate this beach."

"I hate you," you huff, turning around to face him, and he's steadying his hands on your waist, pulling you closer.

"Okay. Now say that without a smile on your face," he challenges, head ducking down closer to yours, eyebrows risen.

You couldn't wipe the lovesick grin off your face even if you tried.

your reblogs and replies are always welcome ♡

#lia's advent calendar ♡#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

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ohimsummer · 1 year ago

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IT'S TOO COLD ft. BULLY! SUGURU

— minors dni, anal, closet sex, bully! suguru x fem! reader, dubcon, fingering (anal), creampie, fem! reader, begging, pet names (puppy, darling), ending is a little rushed :'DD

An icy breeze creeps through the cracks of your clothes, any inch of fabric careless enough not to shield you from cool winds. Your body lay way more unprotected than you were comfortable with, considering you were dressed for a brisk 70 degrees and not 15 degrees colder.

It’s appalling how the forecast could possibly be this inaccurate, but you’ve braved the weather so far, having no time to stop by your room for a jacket. Sure, the wind sent your little sundress fluttering and raised goosebumps on any bare patch of skin, but at least you weren’t late for any classes?

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that.”

At the sound of his voice, your feet fix themselves to the ground. You hadn’t even spotted him, too caught up in rushing to your final lecture and the comforting thought of a nice, warm nap after a day of classes.

You turn to watch Geto approach, clad in a dark sweater beneath a darker hooded coat, one he unzips as he draws nearer. He holds the garment out for you to take, amused at the doubt clouded over your expression.

“Come on, darling, you want my arm to get tired?,” he rushes you.

You cross arms over your chest, partially for warmth, partially in defiance, and unintentionally smushing your breasts up perfectly for Geto to get an eyeful, mumbling. “I don’t need your jacket.”

He raises a brow, eyes lingering on your shivering legs for less than innocent reasons, before flashing you his signature, calming grin. “Sure you don’t. Put it on, anyway.”

The subsequent pout of your bottom lip reminds him of Gojo. “But I d-“

“Now.” And you recognize the menacing look in his eyes, a forewarning to obey or else.

Without a word, you snatch the oversized jacket from him, slotting your arms through the spacious sleeves, and zipping it up to your chin. The length of it brushes your knees, and admittedly, you’re grateful for the extra coverage.

“There.,” as the collar of the jacket engulfs the lower half of your face. “Happy now?”

Geto pads even closer, chilly hands grazing your cheeks and ears to send a shiver up your spine, and pulls the hood over your head. He tugs at the strings to tighten it a little, brushing off complaints about your hair to make sure it fits snug.

“Perfect.,” he hums and pats the top of your head. “Though…”

A curious look plasters itself on your face as Geto tilts his head, gaze traveling from your head to toe, stopping again on the rest of your barren legs, and settling on your eyes. ‘C’mon’ he mutters with a hand around your wrist, essentially dragging you in the opposite direction.

“G-Geto!,” you quiet your protests to avoid judgmental stares. “I was g-, let go of me, I was going to class!”

He doesn’t break his gait, pulling you behind him to who-knows-where, your objections flowing straight over his head with the accompanying frigid gusts. Sounds of feet scuffing the ground as you fight against Geto’s steady strides, though to no avail as he slips you both into the campus’s art building. The halls are vacant, slightly less cold than outside, no noise except the loudening sound of drums and instruments as he guides you down a hall destined for trumpet players and the like.

You two arrive at an ordinary, brown door, a storage closet. Geto manhandles the knob, heaving it open with his shoulder against the wood, and gestures you inside. Glancing left and right and seeing no witnesses, you tiptoe inside, nerves worsening as Geto shuts the door behind you.

You mutter, “It’s dark in here.” And as if on cue, a dim, yellowish light fills the small room. Geto’s hand wraps around a dingy string tailing from a single lightbulb, before he walks forward to corner you against a tiny sink stuffed in the room.

“Wh-what are you–?,” croaks out, interrupted by him spinning you around to bend over the porcelain fixture.

“ ‘M warming you up.,” he replies, hands ducking beneath the jacket and your dress to glide up and down your thighs. “You felt pretty cold earlier, can’t let you walk around like that. I’ll help you out before sending you on your way.”

You crane your neck to look at him. Geto looks so much bigger cramped in this tiny janitor’s closet amidst forgotten cleaning supplies and gloomy concrete walls.

“Geto–“

“Suguru.,” he corrects.

You huff, brows furrowing at him, though his eyes are locked on the sight of your exposed panties from where he’s bundled both the jacket and your dress around your waist. “Suguru, I got a lecture to get to, and I’m running late–“

“Mhm.”

You clench at the sensation of something hard against your ass, rambling, “A–nd it’s important, we’re doing group–, group assignments–“

A loud ripping sound and your panties are gone, then the sound of spitting followed by a warm something dripping down the seam of your ass. “Tell me all about it, darling.”

Something prods at your puckered hole, and your lungs shrivel inside your ribcage. You choke out, “Su-Suguru, I really, really–,” a whine as his slick finger breaches your hole, “need to be in cla–ss!” He sinks knuckle-deep into the tight orifice, wriggling around before pumping a few shallow thrusts. Wetness builds between your legs, that knowing ache forming in your core as Geto stills the writhing of your hips with his other hand.

“Geto-!,” a corrective ‘smack’ that leaves a hot sting on your ass, yelping ‘oh!’ before you continue pleading. “Suguru, cut it out, I really can’t fail this class!”

“Of course you can’t.,” Geto says automatically, clearly not listening, too busy stuffing another finger in to prep your hole. His dick twitches as another glob of spit drops from his lips, soaking between his fingers as they stretch your little opening. He scissors them apart, earning a gasp from you, before retrieving them as Geto’s now decided you’re ready.

“Look at that, you feel warmer already.”, he laughs softly, hands tracing the expanse of your skin, trailing up your lower back to feel the new heat radiating off you.

Of course Geto’s right, his playtime with your hole has blossomed a scorching heat over your body, coated in a sheen of sweat, a blazing throb between your thighs. The mass of his chest weighs on your back, Geto’s hand moving over one of yours to lace your fingers together on the edge of the sink; wet sounds of him thrusting into his hand fill the room, and your asshole clenches when you feel something much larger breaching your inside.

“S-Suguru!,” you whine, clutching the smooth porcelain as his tip forces it’s way into your entrance. “O-oh fuck, wait!”

Geto ignores your pleas, already halfway in. Your neck tingles under the vibration of his groan, hot breath on your neck, and Geto makes himself at home amongst the tightness of your walls, you squeezing around his dick as he buries himself deeper. “Fuck. So tight, loosen up, darling.”

His leaking tip drags along your walls, and you both synchronize an unbroken moan when he finally bottoms out in you, flush against your ass. The fullness of it feels funny, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as Geto draws out, before slamming back inside and sending you careening forward. Choked whines echo amidst the small room, mingling with Geto’s low, animalistic grunts, and the occasional curse entwined with rasps of ‘feels so fucking good ’ and ‘god, you’re gonna snap my dick off’. He nibbles on your neck, sucks a dark bruise on the skin, a hand trailing down to balance your leg on the edge of the sink. You embed teeth into your fist, suddenly fearful of passerby overhearing your activities, though it in turn prompts Geto to force a deeper arch in your back, your ass rippling as he ruts into your behind.

Your needy pussy clenches around nothing, clit aching for some kind of stimulation but both of your hands are busy. “Suguru–! O-oh god, please!”

Geto tightens his grip, further entangling your fingers, leaning to press you down some more. “Please what? You want me to touch you?”

You nod with a whine, earning a hard thrust before mewling out, “Yes, yes!”

Geto hums in thought, lips brushing behind your shoulder, and pants ,” Well?” and when he notices the knit of your brows. “Start begging then.”

“But–“

“Ah, ah, I’m waiting.” And he presses a rough kiss to your cheek. The hand on your hip creeps ever closer to your core, tracing over the crease of your thighs but not daring to go any further. A babble of pleas fall off your tongue, tears threatening to slip down your cheeks as your pussy yearns for some kind of stimulation.

“I’m being such a good g-girl for you, Sugu, your good pup–py.”

Aw, aren’t you cute, pulling out the little nickname you’d angrily sworn at them to never use. ‘Why would I ever use that, I don’t even like you.’ Suguru licks up your jawline, smothering your neck in another layer of sloppy kisses. You pull your drool-soaked fist from your mouth, lips quivering. Geto looks through lustful eyes to meet your needy, wide-eyed gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at your subtle pout.

"Pretty please, Suguru, I really want it...", you whine.

You're such a sight for sore eyes, Geto thinks, tongue darting over his lips as he finally dips a finger between your folds. He's immediately met with your cry, watching your head fall as he massages the swollen nub under his middle finger, basking in the desperate mewls of his name that leave you.

"I wanna cum with you, Sugu, please, please, feels so, s-so good..”

Geto's smile widens. "Yeah?” You nod eagerly. “Ask politely, like a good puppy, and I’ll let you."

His fingers plunge deep into your spasming hole, leaking juices down to his wrist, the rough thrusts of his cock leaving words to catch in your throat. Your release is just around the corner, and it's a struggle to hold back the way Geto is pounding into you, with his thumb still pressing circles into your clit.

"May I please cum with you, Sugu, please, please, please?", you whimper into the back of your hand.

A short silence follows. Geto's way of toying with you further. The way you squeeze around his fingers and dick make it evident you're close, but he just wants to see. Is his puppy really gonna go ahead and cum without his say so?

"Please–!" It's taking all your strength, and you don't know how much longer you can hold out. "Suguru, fuck, I-I might–“

And his answer feels like a blessing in your ears. "Go ahead, darling. Cum with me."

You let out a broken, choked moan, trembling in Geto's hands as your orgasm sends you over the edge. He thinks you just might actually cut off his dick the way you contract around him, groaning against your neck as he releases thick strings of cum into your entrance. Geto spreads your ass cheeks wide as he pulls out. Globs of his cum dribble out your tight hole, trailing down to mix with the cum leaking from your cunt. If not for Suguru holding you up, surely you would have collapsed on the floor, legs weak and useless in keeping you upright. Geto gives your ass a little smack, before readjusting your dress and his jacket to make you look a little more decent.

"There, all done.," he says. "Want me to walk you to class, now?"

You roll your eyes, shivering and gulping in air. Of course he’s wants to be funny with his cum running down your legs. Between shaky breaths, you rasp, "It's too–, far too late for that."

tagz: @anthoosies today i offer u bully suguru, tomorrow….who knowz

#suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #bully!suguru #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #suguru x reader smut

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months ago

Text

For Good News, Read Front

(Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader)

CW: Mostly fluff; some crude language.

Word Count: 3313

AN: This was requested by the lovely @justreblogginfics for the April Showers event!

Civilian life hasn’t been kind to Frankie Morales.

Addiction, divorce. Nearly bankrupted dealing with both. He only sees his little girl half of the time, and each time he drops her off at her mom’s house, he feels like he’s been lanced through the heart. He lives alone in a shitty apartment, and if it wasn’t for his job, he might go entire days without seeing or speaking to other people.

More immediately, though, he hasn’t been taking care of himself. He’s lost the rigor of military life. He’s put on some weight and barely exercises. According to his annual physical, he’s got high blood pressure, high cholesterol.

He wouldn’t care so much except for his daughter. He wouldn’t bother if it was just for himself. The thought of checking out early and not being there for her big moments—graduations, marriage, whatever—is enough to spur him to action.

He eats better, or tries to. He cuts most of the red meat. He cuts much of the mindless beer drinking he does at night in front of the TV. He takes a multivitamin each morning.

He starts running for the exercise.

At first, it’s pathetic. He’s winded almost immediately, his knees ache, and his muscles burn. What happened to the Frankie who breezed through Basic Training? What happened to the young buck who could hoover down four cheeseburgers and run with a loaded rucksack like it was nothing?

He got old, Frankie thought. He got old and used up and left behind.

But it gets easier. The running gets easier. He starts to chew up miles on his long runs. He wears out a pair of shoes and needs another. He buys a stupid reflective vest so he can go out early mornings and run to race the sunrise. As the running gets easier, so do other things: he sleeps better, breathes better. His mood improves marginally.

Maybe civilian life can work after all.

-----

He still makes stupid choices all the time.

Like this evening: the weather forecast showed rainstorms. He checked it three times, but he still laced up his running shoes, queued up a playlist, and left his apartment. In a surge of unfounded confidence, he figured he could outrun the weather.

Frankie figured wrong.

He’s almost exactly as far from home as he can be when the skies open up. His favorite running route takes him into a quiet neighborhood full of old Florida-style homes with rambling lawns and big trees. It’s usually charming, but now? In the middle of a rainstorm that is increasingly dangerous—thunder rolls overhead, lightning cracks in the distance—it’s foreboding. The light in the sky takes on a pearl grey cast, washing everything in a funereal pall.

Sheets of rain soak him in seconds. He turns around, pounds back down the street, his waterlogged sneakers squelching with each stride. His clothes cling to him uncomfortably, and a moment later, his phone dies, his playlist cutting off mid-song.

Then a bolt of lightning splits the sky in front of him—way too close for comfort—and Frankie knows he has to find cover.

He thinks of who he knows nearby. He comes up short when he goes through the obvious: Pope is somewhere in South America, both Benny and Will are on the other side of town in the opposite direction. Frankie has a cousin nearby, he thinks, but then he remembers that she moved to Virginia last year, according to his mother. He doesn’t know where any of his coworkers live, or anyone from his NA meetings—

The only person he can think of is you. He’s only met you a handful of times, one of those flimsy acquaintances situations. You were friends with a girl that Benny was dating a while back, and you had come to some of the group hangouts with her. You had been quiet, hung at the margins like Frankie, and the two of you had shared some pleasantries. Not enough to be friends, but you had also hosted a cookout a few summers back and invited the guys, so Frankie remembers where you live. Nearby, thankfully.

It'll have to be enough, those handful of paltry conversations he shared with you. Hopefully you’re home. Hopefully you’ll answer the door to the near-stranger soaking wet on your porch.

It’s Frankie’s lucky day, it turns out. You are home, and you do open your door to him, first with a look of puzzlement, then with a bemused smile as you usher him inside.

-----

“I’d offer you a shower, but you probably shouldn’t since there’s lightning,” you tell him.

He’s standing in your kitchen, dripping all over your tiled floor. You hand him a towel and watch him, that smile curving your lips as you watch him dry off as best as he can.

He’s also interrupted your cozy evening in. You’re already in pajamas, contacts out and glasses perched on your nose. The TV in the other room is paused, and the screen shows what looks to be a period drama of some sort. The entire house has the warm scent of something delicious recently baked, and when Frankie glances over at the counter, he sees a pan of brownies cooling.

“I appreciate this,” he replies. “Sorry to bust up your evening.”

“No worries. It’s just solo movie night.”

“Good weather for it.”

You chuckle. “Certainly better than going for a jog.”

Frankie smiles. “I thought I could outrun it.”

You smile back at him, then shift your gaze over his shoulder and to the window. The storm is only picking up in intensity; the smaller trees bend in the wind, and rain comes in sideways with each gust.

“I’d also offer to drive you home, but I’m not good at driving in bad weather,” you say, the smile ceding to a grimace. “I’m kind of a baby about it.”

“Or you’re just sensible,” he counters.

He runs the towel over his head. Instead of being soaked, now he’s uncomfortably wet—his clothes stick to him, and he feels clammy and gross.

“I could call Will, maybe.”

Frankie shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, which was already outdated and nearing its end of life. “I don’t have his number memorized.”

“Maybe Benny?” You pause. “Though since he dumped Emma, I’ve been sworn as his enemy. You’d have to keep it on the down low.”

“I don’t have his number memorized either.”

There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence, then Frankie says, “if I could just wait out the worst of the storm…if I could just even sit on your porch and not bother—”

You cut him off. “Of course you can hunker down here. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t wait to ruin your evening—”

You cut him off again. “You aren’t. Solo movie night is flexible on the ‘solo’ bit.” You gesture to the pan of brownies behind him. “There’s plenty of snacks to go around.”

Frankie should feel bad, but now that you’re in motion, he doesn’t quite have the time to sink into any bad feelings: you snatch the soaked towel from his hands, and you take his elbow lightly and lead him down the hallway to your bathroom. You push him gently inside, then pivot to snag some fresh towels from the linen closet. You toss those at him, and the entire sequence happens so fast that he blinks in surprise.

“Go ahead and dry off,” you tell him. “I think I have some clothes that will fit you. I can run your wet stuff through the dryer.”

“You’re sure you—” he starts to say, but you’re already closing the door on him, giving him privacy, and he hears you padding down the hallway away from him.

It’s only a few minutes later that you knock on the door again. He opens it—still fully clothed—and you’re standing there with spare clothes for him.

“Okay, so you won’t get style points,” you say. “But these should fit you.”

Frankie makes sure to look you in the eyes when he thanks you. He wants you to know he’s appreciative. You didn’t have to let him into your house at all, yet here you are, clothing him, offering to feed him, and you don’t really even know him beyond the handful of conversations you had at group events.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “I owe you one.”

You wave that off. “No worries. Dry off, get changed. The washer and dryer are off the kitchen. You can throw your wet stuff in, then we can relax and wait out the storm.”

-----

Frankie has questions.

Firstly, there’s the grey sweatpants. Obviously men’s sweatpants. Obviously they belonged to some guy, though Frankie has only ever known you to be single. He knows that sometimes women keep their guy’s shirts after a breakup because they are typically bigger and cozier, but he can’t picture you wearing these sweatpants yourself. You’d be swimming in them—yet they seem to be lovingly preserved, scented faintly of fabric softener, and folded neatly when you hand them over.

Secondly, there’s the t-shirt.

It’s big, and while it’s clearly been worn, it’s not worn. It’s a joke t-shirt, obviously, but Frankie is dying to know the context behind it.

The back of the shirt reads “For good news, read front.”

When Frankie flips it over, he is startled by the laugh that it draws from him. It reads, “Big dick is back in town,” and an unsubtle red arrow underneath the text points downward.

So Frankie has questions.

-----

“Okay, so the t-shirt is from a bachelorette party,” you tell him around bites of brownie. The two of you are on the couch, and the tray of brownies is between you. There’s also a bottle of Merlot, which Frankie would have never thought of, but it pairs really well with the brownies.

The movie plays on the TV, but it’s long forgotten: first, from laughing at him when he emerges from the bathroom, then from his barrage of questions that you answer diligently.

“The maid of honor got us all joke t-shirts, and we had to do a blind pull from a bag. That’s the one I got,” you continue.

“And you had to wear it out in public?” he asks, incredulous.

You nod. “In Vegas too.”

“Brutal.”

“Could’ve been worse. One girl pulled a t-shirt that looked like a concert shirt with dates and locations on the back, right? But the front read ‘Chlamydia World Tour 2008.’”

It’s strange how easily the formality between the two of you melted away. It’s probably just the perfect blend of elements: the raging storm outside, the coziness inside, the wine and sugar, the ridiculousness of Frankie’s outfit. You each sit turned towards each other on the couch, far closer than Frankie’s been to you before, but it feels natural. It feels nice, in fact, to be with someone like this—comfortable, joking.

And maybe a hint of flirting.

Frankie takes another sip of wine. “So was it?” he asks.

“Was what?”

“Was it back in town?”

It takes you a beat, but then you get it. Your laugh—Frankie’s never really heard it, he guesses, but it’s delightful and contagious, makes him chuckle along with you.

“Obviously,” you reply. “When big dick comes back to town, you even go to the effort of printing up a shirt about it.”

Frankie could get used to this, he thinks. He likes how easy it feels to talk to you, and he really likes the glint you get in your eye when he makes the joke. He never really noted you before, when you turned up to group events, but Frankie never really noted anyone back then. He was too busy trying to stay afloat in his life.

“Makes me wonder where big dick goes when it’s not in town,” he muses.

“I have to imagine it’s like a carnival. Goes town to town.”

“Winters in Florida when it’s cold.”

“And like a real carnival, when you know it’s in town, you’re excited to go see it, but also a little scared because you just know everything about it is under the table and off the books.”

Frankie laughs. “Big dick can’t be regulated.”

You laugh too, and you swallow down the rest of the wine in your glass. “Nor should it be. Big dick deserves to run free.”

There’s a hundred different, filthy things Frankie could say to that. Maybe you have the same thought because you glance at him, catch his eye, then look away. And maybe he’d drop one of those filthy lines on you if he knew you better, but suddenly he feels like he’s behind with you—that he should have taken advantage of all those group hangouts to get to know you better.

“What about these?” he asks instead, gesturing broadly to the sweatpants he’s wearing. “Another bachelorette thing?’

The story of the sweatpants is sadder, but more revealing to your history. The atmosphere turns a shade more somber: the sweatpants belonged to your ex-husband.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Frankie says.

You shake your head. “I haven’t been, for a long time now. We married young and divorced young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happened. It’s old news.” You shrug, but Frankie can see you turning a bit sad, maybe introspective.

It’s a chance to build a connection. Frankie nods knowingly; he knows this sort of pain.

“Still hurts though,” he tells you.

Another shrug, but you look at him like you’re considering him in another light. You make the connection. “Yeah, that’s right,” you reply. “You’ve been through it too, huh?”

“Two years since it was finalized.”

You settle deeper against the back of the couch. “How are you doing?”

The question warms him. No one ever asks him how he is. Pope, the Millers…they have a unique closeness that comes with being brothers-in-arms, but they don’t ever probe each other’s lives or feelings. They check in with each other, but they suffer in silence.

“I’m okay,” he replies.

You narrow your eyes. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, and he reaches for the bottle of wine on the coffee table. He pours you another glass, and he tops his own off too. “It’s only tough with my daughter. Not seeing her every day, you know?”

It warms him even more, how you nod sympathetically but then encourage him to talk about his little girl—you ask a ton of questions about her, and Frankie finds himself suddenly chatty, talkative, his free hand not wrapped around the stem of his wine glass gesturing as he relates stories about his daughter, and you laugh at the funny stories, coo at the cute ones.

The evening cedes into night. The hours melt away like nothing. The movie on the TV ends, and the streaming app switches automatically to some reality show about rich people on boats, but you and Frankie talk. You break away to pull together a dinner cobbled from what you have on hand: grilled cheese, a salad of mixed greens. Then you both settle back on the couch with another bottle of wine, and the hours unspool into the early morning. Frankie doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy marveling at how easy, how unexpected this all is.

He only wanted a moment of shelter from the storm—which has gentled down into a light, steady rain. What he got was dry clothes, good food and drink, and better conversation. He considers it a gift, this moment: he’s gotten this chance to know you better, and he finds that you’re someone he wants to know. Someone he wants to count as a friend, and he can see a future where he might want to count you as someone more.

You’re the one who cracks first. You yawn, and it makes you check your phone.

“Shit, it’s late.” You run your hands over your face and look at him. “You wanna just crash here for the night?”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

You smile and glance at his chest, say “Big dick never puts me out,” and it takes Frankie a too-long beat to remember what he’s wearing. It’s embarrassing that for a too-long moment, he thinks you’re blatantly coming onto him. He gapes at you before he catches on, but then he flushes because you are flirting.

He flushes too because you realize exactly what he’s thinking. “You forgot about the shirt for a moment, huh?” you ask.

“I did!”

You laugh, and you stand up. You stretch a little, twist at the waist to unkink some tightness in your back, and then you look down at him.

“The couch is pretty comfortable. You okay with that?”

He nods. “You sure I’m not putting you out?”

Another laugh. “I think you probably worry too much, Frankie.” You disappear for a moment, then come back with pillows and blankets.

“I can drive you home in the morning,” you offer. “Whenever you need to be back.”

Frankie takes the bedding from you, and the moment has a charge of intimacy: you’re standing close together, separated only by an armful of blankets and pillows. The rain drums steady outside, it’s dark and late, and it feels like you’re the only two people awake in the world at the moment.

And he hasn’t felt this good in a while. Usually, an evening of nonstop talking would leave him drained, his social battery low, but this is different somehow. He feels like he’s peeled back a layer of himself, exposed an inner bit of himself to you, and it doesn’t horrify him at all. It makes him feel seen. Conversely, he feels like he knows you far better now, and he doesn’t want any of these good feelings to evaporate when the sun rises.

“Can I take you out for breakfast?” he asks. He drops his voice in volume, reluctant to break the spell of friendly intimacy that’s been woven. “There’s a really good cafe if we take the scenic route to my place.”

You seem to misunderstand him. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything,” you say.

In his civilian life, Frankie has often played it too close to the vest. He’s let life carry him along, too passive with things both big and small. He’s let thing happen to him rather than trying to drive the direction of his life.

He knows this moment can tip either way. He can let the chance pass, and you can go back to being just someone he knows, someone he passed a pleasant evening with while a storm raged outside.

Or he could lean into his Delta Force days, maybe just a little. He can be decisive. He can be clear in his objective.

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. “I’d like to take you out.”

Your reaction is enough to bolster him. First you say, “oh” and blink at him, but then you smile and add, “I’d like that.”

-----

Frankie never seems to sleep very well, but you are right: your couch is comfortable, and the sound of the rain soothes him too. He finds himself dropping right off, his sleep deep and restful.

His last thought before he does, though, is I can’t wait for morning.

And then it is morning, dawn about to break and the sky a pearly grey. Frankie stands up and stretches, and he stands by the big picture window by the couch and watches as the sun breaks the line of the horizon and brings the new day with it.

It brings something else too: for the first time in his civilian life, Frankie feels something like anticipation. Something like hope.

#tropes and tales #JolapenoAprilShowers #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales imagine #triple frontier

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astralis-ortus · 1 year ago

Text

care for you

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— to keep you safe is my priority.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff warning → reader addressed as baby and love♡ a.n → based on this request! this was really sweet, even writing this made me feel safe and warmㅠ♡ ⋆ see masterlist

originally, your plan was to have a short date night with your boyfriend. just some dinner somewhere near his studio, maybe take short walk after, and he’ll wait with you until your usual bus—after skipping at least one or two—arrives and take you away from his grasp. that’s all, nothing much, just to recharge your love batteries until the next time you could see each other again.

that was your plan—but it seems like seoul’s early summer weather has its own plan against you.

dinner was great. you and chan decided to try out the new sushi place located somewhere in between his apartment and studio instead. his teammates have all gone, and you’re pretty sure the only reason why he hasn’t been there was to keep it as an option for your date nights. you appreciate the effort, of course; you could kind of imagine the teasing your boyfriend had to sit through when he decided to pass on their little team dinner—all the ‘ew you’re so lovesick’ and ‘wow so now we’re no longer your priority?’ kind of joke, so you made sure dinner was as fun as it could be.

it was during your walk, however, when things started to go south.

with your hand in his warm ones, you arrived at one of the smaller parks near chan’s apartment. the weather was nice, albeit admittedly rather chilly for a summer night. you didn’t pay much attention to it though—afterall, the weather forecast said that the day will end without any rain at sight, and more often than not, the weather forecast is rather accurate.

well, apparently that wasn’t the case today.

not even 5 minutes since you stepped within the park’s perimeters, the wind started to pick up its strength and blew everything within its vicinity. the drops of water then started shortly after, and what felt like nature’s warning soon developed into a full-blown thunderstorm. bringing you home was nothing short of chan’s instinct to keep you safe.

as soon as you arrived at chan’s shared apartment with 3 of his teammates—which fortunately was still out doing their own schedules and plans, chan immediately ushered you inside his bathroom for a warm shower while he put your (and his) drenched clothes in the washer, pulling out one of his hoodie and sweats for you to change into before taking his turn while you dry your now chan-scented hair.

you weren’t planning on staying the night—you’ve never stayed the night whenever you visited chan’s apartment, and neither did chan when he visited yours. it’s not that you didn’t want to—but for chan’s sake, you two decided it’s better not to. when the thunderstorms weren’t dying down as hours passed by, however, chan couldn’t in his right mind allow to you to even think about stepping out of his clothes.

so here you are, laying wide awake at 1 in the morning on chan’s bed, enveloped in chan’s scent, trying to think more about the fact that you’ll be spending your first ever night over at chan’s place rather than the roaring thunder outside the window.

chan, however, was nowhere near you.

after tucking you to bed around an hour ago, right around the time where his 3 teammates arrived home with his laptop on hand—all more surprised about the fact that chan left his laptop in his studio than how you’re all cozied up in their shared space, chan simply wished you a good night before he slipped outside, walking right into whatever hushed commotion between the 4 young men. you really wished he hadn’t, though.

a sudden loud thunder caught you off guard, allowing a rather loud yelp to slip past your lips before you could even stop yourself. it didn’t even take a second before you heard a crack from the direction of the door, soon followed by a dip on the mattress on your right as a hand gently patted your shoulder.

“i’m here, baby—are you okay?” chan’s voice were soft, trying his best not to sound too worried as you peeked from under his beige duvet, eyes glossy with a little pout. the weak shake of your head made him feel a little guilty—chan was just trying to make you feel comfortable since it’s your first time staying at his place, and he didn’t want to push you too far by sleeping right next to you.

maybe that wasn’t the right decision after all.

“i don’t like thunderstorms,” you quietly admitted, a little embarrassed about the fact. thunderstorms always scare you, but you never really found the need to tell anyone since you usually would just pop a melatonin gummy should these sorts of nights come around and sleep before the thunders rage. tonight, however, was something you never thought would ever happen to you—at least not any time soon.

“can you accompany me tonight?” your question came out more of a whisper—but for chan, it sounded a thousand times louder than any of the thunders he had heard tonight.

“of course, baby,” his lips formed into a smile as chan brought his lips on to your forehead, “give me 5 minutes, yeah? i’ll clean up my set up and join you in bed.”

as soon as you confirmed with a nod, chan was out the door, hurriedly packing up his emergency set up—much to han and changbin’s confusion, but he got no time to entertain the younger two’s questions. he was as speedy as he could be, and in less than 2 minutes, he’s already all cozied up under the duvet next to you, engulfing you in his warmth.

“all better, love?” he hummed, fingers tracing patterns on your back over your—his, hoodie. “i’m sorry, i thought you would be more comfortable if you slept alone. i had no idea you hated thunderstorms.”

“it’s okay, i didn’t think it would be this bad too,” you mumbled, burying your face into his clothed chest and contently sighed upon listening to his steady heartbeat—which unfortunately wasn’t much of a help when you flinched over another loud thunder.

chan, however, was quick to your rescue as he gently started humming to tenerife sea, drowning any remaining sounds outside while pulling you impossibly closer to him. as the song ends, he then swiftly started to another, slowly inviting sleep over your now heavy eyelids.

“thank you, channie. i love you,” you forced a mumble, allowing your legs to tangle with chan’s before you finally succumbed to sleep, all comfortable in your boyfriend’s embrace—and when chan was finally entirely sure your breathing had come into a steady exhale, only then his hums came to a halt, lips pressed onto your forehead as he drifted to sleep.

“sweet dreams, baby. i love you.”

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lieslab · 5 months ago

Text

The warmth in me is you

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Changbin X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend decides to wake you up in the coldest way possible.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I'm sorry for not updating a ton lately. I took some time off of writing because I just finished writing my full-length Hyunjin fic a few days ago. This one is shorter, but I'm going to go back to writing a little longer stuff and your requests soon <3

_ _ _

Hyunjin disappeared two nights ago. Booking a trip to another country for a brand deal, Changbin had the dorm alone. At least, he did until he invited you over to spend the weekend with him.

In the comfort of his room, the tranquility of the fan humming on low. He couldn’t sleep without the white noise. You hated the cold, but you put up with it for him and for him alone. When he pushed the blankets aside, you dove in head first.

Tucking yourself beneath the tangled warmth, you basked in his presence; the scent of spiced herbs and something alluding to pine. After balling yourself into the blankets and scooting to get comfortable, you’d curl up next to his body. He’d grumble about your warmth, but you’d shush him. Insisting he enjoyed your sudden presence, he’d huff and roll his eyes, but he did.

He wouldn’t admit it. He put up this fake act for far too long. On the outside, it looked like he wasn’t thrilled about your presence, but you knew he loved it deep down. Why else would he wrap his arm around your body and pull you closer? Warm or not, he loved the evenings just as much as you did.

Before eight in the morning, he left you alone. Without his body, you tossed and turned in the bed. Your arms outstretched and your limbs spread in every direction. Whether it was on your stomach and turned diagonal on the king-sized bed or upside down, your body changed directions all the time. Unaware and sound asleep, your limbs had a mind of their own.

Outside, winter weather clouded the skies. Today? A chance of flurries. You complained about it last night during the winter storm. Hours slipped by and as they did, more and more snow built up outside.

A blanket of white covered the dead grass. Silent and large flakes drifted. The added gusts of wind sent it in every direction. People tucked in the safety of their vehicles struggled to see. Forecasters sent out warnings. Your phone vibrated every so often with new announcements.

The entire time, you complained. The freezing cold air, dry nasal cavities, the chapped lips, you hated all of it. Winter wonderland left you grumpy and unhappy. Changbin tried to get you to enjoy bits and pieces of it, but it didn’t really work.

Your hands and feet grew sensitive to the temperature as you aged. As silly as it sounded, you swore your body aged faster than others. In such cold weather, your joints ached and your back hurt. No matter how many layers you bundled up in, you couldn’t stay warm. Most days, you avoided the outdoors and wicked weather when you could.

Changbin, on the other hand, found nostalgia in snow. It reminded him of being a kid again. Back when his mom forced him into a snowsuit, thick gloves, a protective hat, and a scarf. He chased after his older sister, nearly falling over the thick insulated neon pants built into his snowsuit.

When he fell victim to his snow boots and tripped, he hit the snow hard. Face first, he’d jerk upright with red cheeks and wide eyes. Snow dusted his eyebrows and clung to his eyelashes. His sister pointed and laughed. In the distance, his mother would tell him to get up and brush off the snow. Amusement laced her voice and she could never stop herself from pulling out the digital camera to capture the moments.

Those memories sat back at home. Perched on his mother’s bookshelf, leather bound album-after-album sat with photos of the family. From elementary school days to high school graduation and beyond, his mother took photos of everything.

Changbin disappeared outside to peek at the snow. It took him a few moments to shove open the front door. Last night, the wind pushed a large snow drift against it. When he pushed open the door, he gasped at all the snow before him.

Clad in a black t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, a hand flew to his mouth. His head jerked back to the hall, the direction of his bedroom where you slept. His eyes went back to the snow. Part of him wanted to keep the peace, but mischief bumped at his hip.

He finally slowly shut the door and worked quickly. He grabbed his winter boots and yours. Back in the bedroom, he wiggled your sleeping form into your winter boots and squirmed into his own. When you jerked awake, no doubt you’d be pissed off, but he couldn’t help it.

You looked so cute when you grew upset. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips poked out. Your glare would be as cold as the winter weather, but he’d manage. Your forgiveness could be swayed with warm cuddles and soup.

Sound asleep, you remained unaware of the icy horror awaiting you. As quietly as he could, Changbin scooped his burly arms beneath your warm body. Further and further, he took you from your warmth and headed outside.

In the safety of the white weather, he stepped from the dorm, walked a few feet outside, picked the largest snowbank, and let go of your body. A cheesy grin filled his face, he held his breath, and then-

“AH!”

You shrieked and jerked upright. Cold snow soaked your pants and your t-shirt. Your legs kicked and your arms scrambled. Snow sat in every direction. Changbin’s mischievous giggle filled your ears from behind.

Soaking through your skin, the cold weather hit your bones instantly. You scrambled to get up, arms flinging in every direction. The stinging snow painted you freezing. Your body jerked upright and you pushed yourself to unsteady feet.

“Seo Changbin!”

“Uh-oh.”

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Nuh-uh! You love me too much for that.” He cooed and pressed his thumb and index finger into a heart. Desperate aeygo shot your way, but it did nothing to settle the anger building in your bones. His cheeks poked out, his finger pressed against the side of his face. As cringy as it was, it softened your heart, but not today.

His cuteness ended with a handful of splattered snow to his face. Between the sudden silence and shock, more laughter filled the air. He cried out and pawed at his face. The past and present collided. The difference between fifteen years flicked between boyhood and growing into a man.

“That was mean!”

“You started it!”

He grabbed a fist full of snow and whirled it your way. You shrieked and dodged, falling into another pile of snow in the process. The quiet morning shattered with bickering and cries from cold snow.

When the two of you finished antagonizing one another five minutes later, you couldn’t breathe. Your lungs ached and compressed from the cold. The warmth of your skin faded. Bright red discoloration smeared along your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Across from you, Changbin’s face matched.

“I-” You sucked in a deep breath. “I give up. It’s t-too cold to continue and I-”

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

“Me neither.”

“Let’s go!” He hurried over, grabbed your waist, and hauled you over his shoulders. You shrieked and he giggled again. No matter the time or the place, he loved to show off.

Picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder with ease, it was his favorite thing to do. Showing off his strength felt so special to him. Not everyone could carry their significant other with ease. Usually, you’d beg for him to put you down, but today you didn’t.

Your body fell over his shoulder, limp and defeated. The cold air frosts your lungs. Puffs of warm air drifted into the sky and blended into the snow.

Back inside, he stomped his feet on the inside rug. Chunks of snow fell off his boots. As he kicked off his, you shoved your feet together and kicked yours off, too. Your boots hit the ground and bounced in two different directions. Once they were off, your head slumped over his shoulder.

“I’m never going to be warm again,” you mumbled.

“Oh, you poor thing. Binnie’s got you, don’t worry. We’re going to go take a hot shower. When we’re finished, I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

“Can I cuddle you?”

“If it’ll make you feel better, yeah.”

“I’m going to crawl into your muscles and live there forever.”

“Do not.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I’ll throw you in the snow again.”

“Seo Changbin!”

“Hey, don’t test me!”

The two of you bickered all the way to the shower; despite the freezing cold feeling lacing your body, he still made your heart feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin fluff #seo changbin x you #seo changbin x y/n #seo changbin x reader

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floripayoga · 1 year ago

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Know The Exact Wind Forecast To Enjoy Water Sports

Check out Floripa's beach vacation packages and holiday packages. Discover beauty by adding relaxation and adventure for the ideal vacation with our carefully chosen offers.

Today we have more than 800 people coming over throughout the season from all over the world, international yoga teachers who come seasonally to share their passions with us and international staff as well.

Read more: https://www.floripa.it/wind-forecast/

#yoga wind forecast in sicily #wind direction forecast in sicily

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patisseriu · 6 months ago

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he tasted of dark chocolate || hts

univ!taesan x gn!reader

genre : strangers to ???

wc : ~2.1k

cw & tw : late night walks, exam period, riwoo and leehan are taesans edgy little friend group; bad influence, cigarettes - both taesan and y/n smoke here(smoking is bad don't smoke please), implied over the legal age; y/n supposedly has quit smoking but taesan is being a hot influencing asshole ppl loooove taesan badboy agenda don’t they. y/n is mentioned to be shorter than taesan, and is kinda cocky in the beginning. there's swearing. lots of internal monologue. use of real names.

no pronouns used; full lowercase intended; proofread

main character names are italicised

you loved these little moments when the sky had just turned dark, the dark-purple veil taking over the silver clouds, making them nearly impossible to tell apart from one another. sun was nowhere to be seen since the passing streetlights were the ones responsible for playing with your shadow now, casting it in different directions as you kept walking.

its been a long week. you just finished studying for the exams taking place tomorrow. you still wondered what luck it took for the two of your most important classes to have exams on the same day, back to back. you were a lot more excited for the following whole month of a break than frying the remaining bits of your brain over the final academic push. maybe you weren't all that confident in your knowledge even after the whole weekend worth of studies. or maybe you were overdoing it and pushing your mind in a corner.

either way, that didn't matter now. you didn't want it to matter.

you focused on the cold air you inhaled, wanting to float away from all the worries along with the wind particles that ruffled your hair.

it snowed just last week, giving you hopes for a prettier imagery during your testing period, but the continuous forecast of rain and warmer temperatures melted everything down, leaving nothing but a slight shine on the road and a humid hint in the air.

and as you immersed yourself more in the atmosphere, the one thing that made you snap back from your thoughts was the appearance of a persisting bitter smell. you open your eyes.

in front of you, a group of three boys were making their way in the same direction as you were, completely barricading the entirety of a thin alleyway as they all walked beside one another. the three were dressed in same dark colors, beanies over their heads, and the shorter guy on the right side even turned over his shoulder for moment and gave you a tense eye. seems about the typical public to walk around these times. you turned your head and looked around, feeling like you shouldn't have looked up in the first place.

but you wish it was as easy to switch your attention with just a head turn. a wave of a sharp, acrid scent mixed with the crisp night air stung the walls of your nose. it was so familiar. though you tried to bury it in the fragments of your memory, there were times when you yourself would be in their shoes; inhaling a chestful of smoke after along day that felt like it would never end, the bitter burn of nicotine hitting your throat like flames.

you didn’t need to look up again to know the source. it quite literally was all around their presence - the smoke of cheap cigarettes, ones that burned too quickly and with too much force.

by the time you were shaking yourself mentally out of it, the casted shadows of the group before you were already actively whispering between each other, giving you over the shoulder looks until all three had glared at you at least once. great. if you didn't feel weird before now you definitely were.

you tucked your hands into the pockets of your jacket and tried to keep your pace steady, swallowing, eyes still down on the asphalt. but that was only for a couple more seconds or so, until the boys had seemed to stop their pace and turn your way.

"hey," the guy in the middle, clearly the 'leader' of their little gang, was trying to get your attention. unexpected. you really wished to be able to just pass by, you didn't want any tension or problems, especially on a relatively empty street, sky getting darker every second. you really tried making it look like you didn't pay that much mind, until getting uncomfortably close and having to stop. you tilted your head up, not enough to meet gazes just yet, as looking at them directly seemed like a death wish at the very moment.

"got somewhere to be?" his voice was teasing, eyebrows raised at you sternly ignoring him for as long as you could. his question hung in the air like the smoke curling from the corner of his lips.

you really panicked for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"just passing through," you replied, voice steady despite the uneasy thrum in your chest. did that sound stupid? obviously you weren't following them. self doubts climbed up your skin along with the shivers. you kept your eyes on the leader, sensing he was the one who mattered most in this interaction. hell, you almost felt like breathing too much could've turned out the wrong way for you.

his lips curled at your answer, not quite a smirk, but close enough. "passing through, huh?" he echoed, as if tasting the words. did it really sound that stupid? you felt almost embarrassed at this point. doing your best to keep your form, you finally brought your eyes to examine the guy's face.

god, was he tall. his shoulders seemed especially broad with the unzipped puffer jacket resting on his shoulders, and height was hyperbolized by the below-average sized guy next to him. as your eyes crawled up to take apart his face, in the matter of seconds you noted the uniqueness of his features, his sharp jawline and plump lips that just finished letting go of a grey ribbon of smoke. his mimic seemed almost like one of a hand-drawn character, eyebrows especially expressive.

you felt so small, unrealistically small, nearly a whole meter smaller than him. a weird feeling continued spreading all across your body, so fast you couldn't even tell what it was.

you weren't the only one observing a stranger - while the tallest man was clearly staring back at you, his other two partners were doing just the same, but instead of your face they were more taking apart the details of your outfit.

standing so close to them and the recently released cloud of smoke just got in your head further, making it surprisingly difficult for you to feel like the whole situation wasn't just a part of your imagination or a hazy dream.

"do you smoke?"

what an ironic fucking question. the universe might have just been testing you right now. you had to take a second and blink to make sure this wasn't your brain talking.

"if you're sharing."

how pathetic.

how. fucking. pathetic.

the words just left your mind as if you turned back time, as if the whole period of quitting didn't even happen.

the man seemed to be in complete awe at your response, though. his lips parted, and eyebrows raised even higher. somehow he combined the expression of a subtle gasp with a smirk, clearly liking the way you spoke to him, how confident you seemed in the words, even if in reality you really weren't.

he looked at the two boys standing beside him, motioning something with his head, followed then by the two nodding and continuing to walk forward in the direction you all were going to initially, already finding themselves busy enough with a topic to discuss.

he used the one hand with a glowing, nearly-spent cigarette to hold up the the fabric of his jacket, so he could reach into the inner pocket and offer a brand new one to you. "be my guest"

if you're this far in, and the man in front of you is that good looking, there isn't much that could convince you to back off now. this isn't your proudest move.

you take the cigarette with a nod as a polite 'thanks', resting the fragile cylinder between the two of your fingers and bringing it closer to your lips.

you expected for him to also take out the lighter by now, but after shifting your focus for just a mere moment, you were only met with him inches closer to your face, the smoldering bud now pressed between his lips.

that was the exact second you felt it - your heart was beating at a pretty crazy pace. holy shit. your fingers were on the edge of shaking from the adrenaline in your veins, but you could probably shrug it off on the cold or the nicotine itself.

you knew exactly what to do, and the desire to keep your cool moved your head forward, the burning tip of his cigarette meeting the edge of yours with precision. a deep inhale and the faint crackle of the ember lit your own, sound filling the silence between you, something so quiet and gentle yet impossibly loud in the moment.

you swear his pupils dilated more with each second before you backed off to let out the first puff of bitter smoke. you felt disgusting. but yours probably got just as big in the moment. the heat seemed to be hitting not only your throat but also inching somewhere deeper. was it the same kind of heat? it's been too long for you to understand, and too many emotions were taking over you at the moment.

"I'm dongmin" with a soft smile and a draw from what's left of his bud, he extended his free hand out to you for a handshake, to which you did the same.

"y/n"

he looked at you with a smile, so mellow and cute, practically melting off the 'scary guy' image off his face. and you noticed it before he seemed to try and shrug it off right as he caught himself on it, suddenly starting to pace forward once again, you followed right after.

maybe it wasn't just you trying to make yourself look cool in front of the other for an impression.

"other two are donghyun and sanghyeok." he kept staring off into their backs, already significantly far that they couldn't hear any of his words, without trying to be quiet. "they're nicer than they look." he turned to you, the revealed tenderness still in the notes of his suppressed expression. it felt.. genuine.

you smiled back, walking beside one another in comfortable silence for a few moments, only the sound of your footsteps and the occasional inhale of smoke filling the air.

as the cigarette burned down to its last embers, your guilt was somewhere long forgotten, and the other two boys in the distance already seemed to walk off the other way, the two of you had made your way right to the entrance of your dorm without really thinking about it, filled with all kinds of conversations and facts about one another. both of your phone numbers already in the contacts of another. the cool night air had settled around you both, and you stood there for a moment, unsure of how to put the point you had in mind the whole time.

"you know, maybe we all are 'nicer than we look'" you quoted dongmin's words from the very beginning of your chat, and he felt a pang of surprise at you recalling his words. surely, by the way he shyly smiled and led his eyes away for a moment, you could tell he did find that bit of your words truthful. his exaggerated coolness slowly coming off, revealing a faint pink shade over his cheeks, so light it almost had a pastel-like quality.

and while you were busy noticing such details about him, all warm and fuzzy in your feelings, you didn't notice how dongmin stepped closer. there was no hesitation in his movement, and before you could process it, his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in gently.

the kiss was soft, exploratory, like he was tasting the moment, tasting you. it was nothing like you expected, no rushed desperation, only a slow, lingering connection that felt entirely new. his lips were utterly bitter, but had a distinct note - he tasted of dark chocolate.

the moment felt fleeting, and ended just as carefully and gently as it started. after a shared smile, you stayed a little longer for a tight hug, before waving goodbye and him observing the door behind you close.

the whole evening still felt like a haze - your head was dizzy from the warmness of your feelings, everything inside you fluttered and a smile was impossible to erase from your face as you rode up the elevator; you wondered if he felt the same way, walking back to his place.

you were looking forward to tomorrow, and the day after; to more things to share about yourself, more things to learn about him; and eventually, after some while, watch him chuckle at you confessing you agreed to smoke just to continue a conversation with him, and appear cooler.

maybe you share more than it seemed, and the things that brought you closer might have been just equally pretentious.

#taesan ₊ ⊹🍞#sonny writes ₊ ⊹🍞#taesan #taesan oneshots #taesan x reader #han dongmin #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #bnd imagines #boynextdoor #taesan bnd #taesan boynextdoor #han taesan #taesan imagines #boynextdoor scenarios

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