#between the pm drabble and this i mean

[frankenjoly]

Swap!!

doa + bodyswap like in wan

Despite being used to, or at least having the knowledge of how incredibly varied special abilities could be, Sigma was by no means ready for what had happened in the slightest. Sure, they weren’t a stranger to being out for a second after passing and receiving information, but that was something else entirely.

A braid being the first thing they saw after having been knocked out during a Decay meeting and looking down wasn’t surprising, since he had let Nikolai do said braid while waiting for the rest to arrive. But a closer look revealed it was fully white instead, those were Nikolai’s clothes instead of their own and…

“What’s happening?” Not only did that sound like Nikolai’s voice, but also looking back up revealed everyone else seemed to be in a similar situation, judging by the change in mannerisms.

“Oh, wow!!!” Appearance may say ‘Fyodor’, but just that couple of sounds were enough to recognize the person speaking as the real Gogol. “If this is Fedya’s body, does that mean I could–?”

“Please, don’t. Not here, at least.” Meanwhile, ‘Kamui’ and such a response suggested that it was Fyodor instead.

“Goddamn, the view really is weird as fuck from this coffin.” Was that the actual Kamui, in whatever remained from the body of their… resident? vampire. Seemed so. “Though not being able to move or do shit is even weirder.”

“Serves you right, since it was you who caused me to be in such a state.” And there was Bram, now looking like Sigma himself.

“Any idea of what we can do about this?” He didn’t know about the rest (well, maybe a little), but Sigma would kill to be back to normalcy and their own body as soon as possible.

“These sorts of things usually only take time.” Fyodor, the real one, shrugged.

“Sooo, we can have fun in the meantime, can’t we? ‘Cause I may have a couple ideas that are very tasty, heh.” What were those ideas, Sigma didn’t know, and would rather miss both Nikolai’s explanations and tryouts.

Not like he was going to be that lucky, though.

(Also on ao3.)

[brattyspence]

u up? | s.reid

summary: early season!spencer is reluctant to request nudes from gn!reader while hes gone on a case. warnings & key info: nudes (what an ugly word), sexual themes implied, nothing rlly explicitly stated. a very reluctant and maybe insecure spencer, a hint of teasing  a/n: this is rlly just a drabble but i love the idea of early season!spencer who is kind of nervous to ask for things but also rlly down bad for reader! maybe i’ll make more with this pairing bc its so fun. word count: 1.5k my masterlist!

Spencer flopped back into the queen-sized bed with a sigh. The hotel room was small, the generic beige walls blending into the generic beige room. The only light source he had at present from was the warm, yellow light of the bedside lamp and the screen of his phone.

The team had successfully closed another case. The unsub was apprehended after a week-and-a-half long chase, but he didn’t feel any better.

The relief that followed long cases like this one was different. Of course the week had been long and tiring. He hadn’t exactly slept well between the late nights at the local precinct and the looming anxiety about finally catching the guy. When Hotch made the decision to fly out the following morning to allow the team to get some sleep, he wasn’t so thrilled. 

He had returned to his hotel room, showered off the day (and it’s germs) before attempting to get into bed, but something was amiss. 

Catching the unsub didn’t mean just another solved case, but it also meant coming home to you. Maybe it was selfish, sure. Still, he had looked forward to it all day, and the sudden change in plans threw him off. Here he was, on top of the scratchy maroon bedspread of the hotel, very awake and very much frustrated by the prospect of spending another night apart from you. 

Sexual frustration and Spencer were two things you never would have put together. He was the most patient man in the world to you. Sometimes you still consider it his biggest flaw. When you first began dating him, it took weeks for him to work up the nerve to kiss you first. Sex was another beast. Somehow he wasn’t comfortable initiating anything for fear that he was pressuring you, and it seemed that no amount of reassurance would encourage him to make the first move. 

You were half asleep in bed when you heard the buzz of a new notification. You lifted your head from its spot in the pillow, and patted your hand around to find your phone somewhere in the mess of sheets in your bed. When you found it, you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen in the darkness of your room. He never liked to interrupt you when you were sleeping. It was another one of his obscure demonstrations of love. If you ever texted him past 9 PM, he would delve into a rant about how the blue light of your screen would keep you up all night, or how sleep deprivation could cause a multitude of issues, and “I just don’t want to be the reason you didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

Patient, kind, respectful, and painfully so. 

Which was why you were thoroughly confused when you received what could only be interpreted as a very Spencer Reid version of a ‘u up?’ text at 12:51 AM.

Spencer: Hi. I miss you. Are you awake? 

You: i am now :)  i miss you more. 

Spencer struggled to find the right words to type. He always relied on you dragging it out of him. He drafted a few responses, deleting them immediately. His fingers hovered the keyboard for a moment, contemplating if he should just let it go.

You watched the ellipses come and go as he typed. It disappeared for a few seconds, and then reappeared. Eventually, you decided to call him. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, maybe more so than usual. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was hoping to hear your voice,” you replied.

“But it’s so late. You should be sleeping, and now-”

“Spencer,” you replied, cutting him off. “I don’t care about that. You’ve never been one to message so late, so I know something must be bothering you. Talk to me.”

You heard the soft rustle of fabric against the microphone. 

“I was just really looking forward to coming home tonight.”

You sighed. “I know. I was looking forward to it, too.”

“I just…” he trailed off. “I was thinking about you all day. Thinking about seeing you, thinking about… just thinking about you.”

“Hm.” You sandwiched the phone between your ear and shoulder before sitting up. The jersey sheets pooled around your waist as you leaned across your nightstand, flicking on the bedside lamp. Your room filled with the soft glow. “Thinking about me?”

“Yeah.” His voice was almost a whisper. “That’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all, honey.” 

You could visualize his reaction through the phone, the same reaction he always had when you pinned down his real intentions. He probably made an attempt to roll his eyes and brush off your comments, but he’d blush seconds later and avoid eye contact, knowing you were right. 

“Why do you… say that?” Somehow his voice was even softer.

“It’s one in the morning, Spence. You never call this late,” you explain. “And you’ve been away for a whole 10 days.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed audibly. 

“Yeah,” you repeat. “So you clearly want something from me.”

Silence.

“Do I need to drag it out of you?”

He huffed.  “It feels really juvenile. And I just respect you so much, and I don’t want you to ever think that I’m using you for anything, or that I don’t value you-”

“Spencer. We talked about this.” 

“Right.” He sighed. He held the phone to his ear with one hand, the other pressing into his eyelids as he formulated a response. 

“So,” you clear your throat, and sit back into your pillows, your phone lying across your chest. “Ask me.”

“I don’t…” he exhales. He’s struggling to come to terms with the fact that you have him figured out so well. He’s quiet for a few seconds before he gives in reluctantly. “I was looking forward to seeing you tonight. Not just talking.”

“Spencer Reid,” you reply, amused. Teasing him was just too easy sometimes, especially when he was so easy to rile up, even if he knew you were just joking with him. “Are you asking me for nudes?”

“I… It just sounds so wrong. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, come on. Just ask me.”

He groaned. “I don't want you to think that my love for you has anything to do with your body. You know that, right? Because it doesn't. Although I do love… looking at you. That sounded weird. I just mean that I don't want to put you in a position where you feel commodified based on something like your physical appearance when you have so much more to give, and it's not respectful of you. You're brilliant and kind and so, so good to me, and it’s just so vulgar, I think-”

He fell quiet as his phone buzzed in his hands. He could just see the preview of the text you had sent him. After changing the call to speakerphone, he opened it, scrolling through the carousel of photos, taking in the images.

“You think..?”

“Jesus Christ…” he breathed, opening a slideshow of photos you had taken just for him. Sent to him, for his personal use. He would have felt bad about it if he wasn’t so horribly entranced by the sight of them. Whatever was left of his rambling fizzled out.

“You're not gonna finish your sentence?” You asked.

“I…” swipe. “God, I don't remember what I was saying.”

You chuckled. “Does that fix your problem?”

He was clearly short circuiting. “Mhm. It does.”

“See what happens when you ask, Spencer?”

“I feel guilty,” he replied, his voice breathy and quiet. He was clearly having some kind of internal struggle about the ethicality of the situation. It didn’t bother him enough to look away, though.

“Why?” You ask. 

“Because… these are really…” He stopped. Although you couldn’t see it, his cheeks were burning red. “Are you sure you’re okay with me having these?”

“Spencer,” you say. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times. I watched you fold and organize my sock drawer without my asking last week. You preheat my coffee mug for me every morning. I’m not just okay with you having these. I want you to have them.”

Oh. He swallows thickly, forcing himself to close the app and come back to his senses.

“But…” He trails off. He still sounds a little distant, pausing a bit too long between words, clearly still looking the photos over. “How did you… did you have these ready to send?”

“I did. I took them the other night. I was just waiting for you to ask.”

You wait a few seconds to see if he says something else. He doesn't. The line falls silent.

“Are you okay over there?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, exiting the app and putting his phone down on the pillow next to him. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… wow.”

You were used to his continual praise, but somehow his lack of words was the best compliment he could have offered you.

“Next time just ask, okay?”

He swallows. “Mhm. I will.”

“You should go have fun. I'm gonna go back to sleep. I'll see you soon, pretty boy.”

“Yeah… you should get some sleep. I’ll… see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

You smile to yourself. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

[glitter-epoch]

-ˋˏ [ nerve endings ] ˎˊ

≪ zayne x afab!reader ≫ - smut under the cut, 18+ ONLY mdni!!! do NOT!!! - part two of this drabble, but all you really need to know is zayne gave you stitches and neither of you are being normal about it. - warnings: smut at the end, afab reader no gender assigned pet names or references, a couple y/n's, reader got stitches in the first part, no explicit description of wound, slight pain from the wound at one point, fingering, zayne is mean and also anxious, he's real for that, zayne's scars mention

again, 18+ under the cut! mdni!

you’re unscrewing the cap on the ointment zayne ordered for you when your phone rings. the two gigantic strides you take to cross to the kitchen are ridiculous, but you’ve been waiting for him to call since his shift ended.

zayne. his name flashes on the screen, right under the time, 8:08 PM. you fumble to get the phone in your hands and put it up to your ear, cap still balanced between your fingers. 

“hi,” you breathe out. 

zayne is quiet for a moment. something whirrs in the background, mechanical and smooth. 

“hello,” he replies, in that somehow monotonous and matter-of-fact tone. “why are you out of breath?” 

“nothing,” you swallow. “just...trying to get the cap off the ointment you got me.” 

another moment passes. the soft drone of machinery in the background clicks in your mind, finally-  

“are you driving?” you ask. surely he’s not- 

“not anymore,” zayne says, and the whirring dies. “i’m in your parking lot. i have extra bandages and dinner for you. i’ll leave them outside if you’re not in the mood for company.” 

the feelings that pass through you are like a molotov cocktail; fear and excitement and relief all at once. it all burns in your chest. zayne had said he was going to call, but once it got to be past seven o’clock, you wondered if he’d forgotten. and you didn’t really think he would come see you, but...you had maybe thought he might. 

“you got me dinner?” you start, nervously. “that’s too much. thank you.” 

you’re in your pajamas, gauze pad ungracefully peeking out over the waistband of your fuzzy blue shorts.  

“i’m not dressed,” you murmur, unsure of what exactly your goal is in saying so. you do want him to come up- 

“i don’t care about that,” he replies. “but if you need time to put something else on, i can wait. i didn’t call you until eight.” 

“yeah,” you huff, “what were you doing?” 

zayne sighs. “buying you bandages.” 

“quit paying for things!” 

you look around your apartment. it’s clean, thankfully, uncluttered and dusted; countertops gleaming to the usual degree once they’ve been wiped down. he says he doesn’t care about your outfit, and you believe him. 

you can see him in your mind’s eye- buttoning your trousers, zipping them up like it was nothing. 

“i’m glad you came,” you say, chest buzzing with nerves. “i’ll come let you in. do you remember which building i’m in?” 

“i’m already outside.” 

you scamper all the way downstairs, gliding over the complex’s steps so fast it’s a miracle you don’t slip and fall. by the time you get to the bottom, you're out of breath again; the cut over your hip sore. 

zayne’s hair is blown over his forehead by a cold breeze that curls in through the open door of the apartment building, quickly sucking all of the warm air out of the lobby. you step aside, ushering him in. 

“oh, it’s cold,” you complain, narrowing your eyes out the glass door as you shut it behind him. “are you cold? no. you have that massive coat.” 

zayne looks down at his black overcoat; the sharp triangles of the lapels framing his jaw, which is just as sharp. he takes one pale hand out of his pocket to brush the hair out of his eyes. you’re smart enough not to ogle this time, but your eyes do snag on something- 

scars. little ones, all over the back of his hand; one deeper, longer one down the center. 

if he notices your gaze falter, he doesn’t say. 

“it is cold,” zayne chides. “you shouldn’t have come down here in shorts.” 

“i was barely outside,” you retort. 

“why are you wearing them in the first place?” is zayne’s reply.  

“they have cows on them,” you mumble, pointing at the wide nose of one on your shorts. “here, come upstairs. is that soup?” 

“yes,” zayne replies simply.  

his tone is a little icier than it had been at akso, but his porcelain cheeks are red, and his lips are wet with cold, too. there’s a small black thermal bag on his other arm, and mug in that hand (also scarred, you see, and his fingers move around aimlessly). he’s nervous.  

he’s nervous. 

you’d grin if you weren’t about to throw up. 

. . .  

he’s so tall. his shadow seems to stretch out across your living room as he sits down next to you on the sofa; half-a-cushion away. it seems intentional. 

“you didn’t have to heat it up for me,” you scold. 

zayne nearly ignores this, but provides you with a small mm and shake of his head. “you shouldn’t be reaching up that high, at the microwave; your stitches could tear.” 

you inhale, trying to settle in as he clearly does the same beside you. the back of your couch barely meets his shoulder blades. the lights are low, the overheads in the kitchen a distant glow. the resting screen of the television, the far-off lights of linkon, and one small lamp on the side table remain.  

zayne’s taken his jacket off, and his usual white button-down is gone. the charcoal-grey slacks remain (they’re tailored. they have to be. nobody’s legs look that good in department store slacks).  

his shirt is black, and thermal; with subtle waffling. it looks soft, but it’s tight around his biceps. at this waist, the shirt leaves a tiny bit of room- he's strong, his shoulders are wide, but he’s lean, you think. 

things you’d never have noticed in his usual uniform, and also, things you do not need to and should not be noticing. 

you avert your eyes only to find him rolling up his sleeves.  

Lord. zayne fluffs the rice inside a small plastic box with a fork and stirs a couple of glazed chicken strips into the container, a healthy amount of steamed broccoli also placed in the side tin. instead of handing it to you, he slides it across the coffee table as a small curl of steam rises from the rice. 

the vein that starts in center of his palm and disappears through his inner-wrist flexes as he pokes the fork into one of the broccoli florets. 

“you don’t eat enough vegetables,” zayne remarks.  

he has his glasses on. you’re too busy noticing this to offer a snide reply to his comment. when you do, it’s too late. he’s noticed your staring. 

“you don’t eat with me enough to know what i eat,” is your pathetic retort. “and you’re a cardiologist, not a dietician. get another degree and then we’ll talk.” 

zayne’s smile is small but victorious. he reaches for the mug on the table and shifts until he’s facing you, knees pointed at yours. 

then he starts unscrewing it. 

“your heart health is more dependent on your diet than almost anything else,” he says, voice low, almost teasing. “other than the aether core, of course.” 

the choice to unscrew the cap right at you, his knuckles moving deftly to twist off the lodged lid, that same center-vein and a few new ones appearing on his forearm. it’s so blatant you’re glaring incredulously at him by the time he offers it to you. 

zayne blinks a little after a moment of you ignoring him, hazel eyes looking a little concerned at your coldness. “it’s soup,” he offers. “not as warm as the rice, so you can hold it.” 

you lower your chin at him, brows low: “what are you doing?” 

it’s more of a statement than a question. and zayne (who’s been weaving this game all day, but now seems to be anxious), says- 

“i’m giving you this soup i made.” 

he sets it down on the table. 

“it’s just broth and some vegetables. protein would have been too much, you already have your chicken.” 

for a moment, you think you’ve gained the upper hand. but your eyes trail after his wrists as he sets the thermos down on the table and plucks the fork out of the rice, chicken still attached. 

one corner of his lip curls when he notices.  

zayne presents the fork to you. when you don’t accept, he cocks his head. 

“i came here to make sure you eat dinner and change your bandage,” zayne says. you’re not sure if it’s pure dishonesty; his voice is too difficult to read, as always. “i’m not sure why you’d refuse the food.” 

at that, you take the fork, and eat the bite off the end.  

“i’m not refusing the food,” you swallow. “and thank you. this was very kind of you. i’m...i’m really surprised, actually.” 

the mirth fades from his features. “surprised?” 

“i just assumed you weren’t going to call,” you add quickly, almost guilty over how suddenly his demeanor shifts. “it was getting late. i didn’t want to bother you.” 

“i told you i’d call,” zayne replies softly. “if i say i’ll do something for you, i will.” 

“you do have a good track record of that,” you reply. 

he nods. “i know i do.” 

gulp. you eat more of the rice, trying to occupy yourself. “this is very good. thank you.” 

“you don’t have to say it again. why were you so worried about me calling?” 

you peer at him, a ball of rice in your cheek. “i-” you murmur over the rice, and swallow quickly. “i wasn’t worried. well, i worried something might have happened to you, but it would have been fine if you didn’t call. you already gave me stitches for free.” 

“i’m your doctor,” is his reply. 

“you’re my cardiologist.” 

“primary care doctor,” zayne counters. and he leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees. he’s still a head taller than you. “are you averse to me caring about all the other parts of you?” 

you inhale sharply to try and hide the flush that bursts in your cheeks. the next time you swallow, he follows it; watches your throat bob.  

“no, i’m not averse,” is your stupid reply.  

he blinks slowly, like a cat. the smirk returns. “mm.” 

“mm,” you bite out, dropping the fork into the box of rice and pressing on the lid. “that was very g...you know i think it was good, but i’m not super hungry right now. i’ll put it away for later, unless you want some?” 

you busy yourself with gathering up the box and the mug, so by the time you steal another nervous glance at zayne, it’s the first time you’re seeing him tilt his head forward at you. the pools of his eyes see everything; it’s like he’s looking straight into your skull. 

“y/n,” he murmurs, slow.  

your own name shocks you. there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not going to say anything else. it’s not just your name, it’s a question. 

he’s asking you what you want.  

and he’s ridiculously patient as you sit there, box of rice and thermos in hand, blinking like a dear in headlights. you think of chickening out. 

“can you help me change the bandage, please?” you nearly whisper. 

. . .  

“this cut is technically over your lumbar plexus. there’s a nerve here,” zayne continues. he drags the pad of his finger over the flesh between your hip and the curve of your waist, examining and admiring, like you’re a specimen. “obturator.” 

you’re practically ignoring him at this point; your head is swimming, your face is hot as an iron. “obfuscator.” 

he actually laughs, albeit softly. “obturator. with a ‘t’.” 

“yeah, that’s what i said.” 

you’re standing in front of the sofa, holding up the heavy bottom edge of your crewneck. zayne sits on the coffee table in front of you. his left hand traces over the right side of your belly, dances around the stitches he put in earlier. his right hand holds the waistband of your pajama shorts down; pins them to what’s nearly the middle of your thigh.  

you’re looking up at the ceiling, trying not to think about how much of the skin over your pelvic bone is exposed. you’re also trying to steal glances at zayne, who you’re certain isn’t really here, and must be a dream.  

even looking at him is too much, though. 

“you looked that up,” you whisper. “you’re a heart doctor, not a hipbone doctor. you looked up what those nerves were called in the parking lot before i came and got you, cuz’ you knew you were gonna do this.” 

“do what?” zayne wastes no time. 

“do...”  

well. you give up, not wanting to accuse him of seducing you out loud. 

he pulls your shorts up for a moment and grabs the ointment beside him. “this shouldn’t hurt,” he says softly. “i’m only putting it around the sutures, not on the cut. then i’ll put a new bandage on.” 

“okay,” you breathe. 

he pauses. looks up at you. “okay?” 

as in, are you okay? 

you muster up the courage to look down at him, not actually wanting to alienate him. if he left now, you’d absolutely start sobbing. 

“yeah, i’m okay. sorry.” 

“don’t apologize. hold still.” 

he spreads the ointment onto his fingers. like vaseline, it appears iridescent against the low-light of the television and the distant scape of linkon. you’re trying not to drool over the two fingers he’s placing over your hiphone when you remember. 

“your scars,” you say, softly, a little nervous. “were they accidents?” 

zayne stiffens. weighs his words. “essentially.” 

you nod, not wanting to press any further. “not that it matters-” 

you gasp as he starts to spread the ointment around the sutures; a barely-stinging, mostly-cold sensation fluttering like soft wings across your skin. his fingers are cold, not as cold as usual. he’s trying to keep them warm for you. 

“yes?” zayne murmurs.  

“not that it matters,” you continue, trying to steady your breathing. “but i think they’re beautiful. like tree roots.” 

zayne stops for a moment. inhales. you watch the breadth of his shoulders rise and fall until he continues working, circling the cut over your hip with glossy fingers. 

“do you?” he asks. almost a whisper.  

you furrow your brows at him, surprised to hear a hint of insecurity in his tone. once he secures a new bandage over the wound, you know you’ve waited too long to respond.  

“of course,” you manage.  

he looks up at you, then; narrow jaw angled expectantly, his jaw shut tight.  

“you like them?” he asks again, and his voice is darker than usual. 

god. 

you nod, unsure of how else to say it. “i like them,” you start. “i like...i like you, yes.” 

zayne watches you with such intensity you wonder if he’s trying to melt you down like iron. his fingers tighten on your waistband where he holds down the right corner of your sleep shorts; then he pulls that side down further, other hand coming down over the slope of your waist.  

he grips you. his palm ignites with ice; suddenly, extremely cold. you gasp. 

“you like me.” zayne challenges. 

“i like your scars,” you argue, but you can’t take it back. you’ve already said it.  

“you like both,” he replies. his palm smooths down your waist, then snakes around to your front. he places both hands flat to your belly. 

you let go of your crewneck, surprised, as he runs his hands up your front and then wraps them around your ribs, caging you in on either side.  

“there are nerves here, too,” he mumurs. he doesn’t have to lift his arms up much to reach you like this; he’s barely reaching up to begin with. “an intercostal.” again, his hands dip lower, equally soft and calloused. his thumb presses down right under your ribs. “subcostal.” 

“you’re making these up,” you huff, trying not to squirm, not to look too enraptured.  

“you were confident enough in my medical expertise to let me put stitches in you.” 

“well,” you breathe, “i trust you.” 

“you do?” zayne remarks, like he knows exactly how much you trust him; but maybe it astonishes him. “you do...” 

“this is your sacral plexus,” he says next, pressing two thumbs in just to the right of your navel. he goes lower, spreads his hands out; they fan like wings as they travel, colder and colder as he nears your pelvic bone. “obturator, again. this is lower, on your thigh; femoral.” 

“i’ve heard of the femur.” 

he stops to laugh. “you, are...” 

you laugh with him, because if you don’t, you’ll scare off; truthfully, you’re deeply afraid of him looking at you underneath your clothes. 

he senses this. 

“you don’t want me to look at you?” zayne asks, with genuine confusion. 

you look down at him. “no, it’s not that.” 

“it is. you’re afraid.” 

“not of you.” 

“of me looking at you,” zayne replies. he considers this, brows knit together in discontent. “you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about seeing you like this.” 

his voice is sanguine. this is new for him, too; you’ve both never been here.  

zayne looks up at you. he wants to see you, wants to touch you, wants you. 

his fingers curl over your waistband, but he stops. “yes or no?” 

you watch him, trembling under his gaze, under his grip. 

you can’t say it, but you nod. yes. 

he looks down instantly, propelled forward, but as he pulls down your shorts, revealing your panties; he seems more interested in your navel. zayne lifts your crewneck with one hand and lets your shorts fall, adjusting as you step out of them. one hand comes flat to your navel, the other runs across the thin fabric covering your heat.  

you inhale. the hand on your stomach flexes; small jolts of cold prick your skin.  

zayne watches goosebumps rise there. his mouth is open, you notice- just barely, like he doesn’t even know.  

“i don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, almost slurred. “the cold.” 

“no, no, it’s fine. i like it.” 

he flashes you what’s almost a glare, like it can’t be true. “another thing you like.” 

“if it’s you, i like-” 

he brushes the pad of his thumb over your clothed cunt; catches the hood of your clit. maybe he doesn’t notice at first, but when you jolt, he hums.  

“mmm,” he says. “what were you going to say?” 

“if it’s you i like all of it,” you ramble off, “anything. what are you doing?” 

“taking my time.” 

he presses his thumb to that same spot, now that he’s found it, and rubs circles. meanwhile, you bend backwards; he grabs your waist, steadies you upright, and drags his frozen palms up and down your hips. 

“you have to stand up straight, or you’ll tug on the stitches. that will hurt.” 

“i don’t...care.” 

“that’s only because you haven’t done it yet. hold still.” 

you look down at him, gasping as he presses a kiss to the flesh above your panties, next to your cut. his lips are soft, warm, unlike his hands; sheen from his own biting. he does it again, and when you jolt, his grip is firmer. 

“i won’t do anything to you if you’re going to tear your stitches,” zayne murmurs. 

he loops his fingers through the legs of your panties, pulls them down. you nearly shriek. 

“zayne!” 

he hasn’t looked down yet, yet; he’s looking into your eyes. “that would be malpractice. also, i can’t stand to hurt you. i won’t, actually- so please, hold still.” 

“it’s your fault i can’t be still.” 

“try harder.” 

when zayne’s gaze lands on your bottom half, naked, the goosebumps on your belly traveling to your cunt; you can tell that he’d been looking at you in the eyes not just to knock you off balance. he’d been preparing himself.  

you’d be naive to think he doesn’t know what to do next, but for a moment, you think he might not- his pupils are big as moons.  

“hold still,” he says again. this time, with fervor. “please, hold still.” 

he touches you like he’s going to work; like he’s been studying for this his whole life. he keeps one hand on your ribs (clearly obsessed with physically feeling your breath hitch) and runs his fingers up the inside of your thigh, opposite of the wound on your hip. 

zayne looks up at you once before dragging his finger through the center of your core. 

you gasp. 

he cocks his head, and grinds his jaw, icy fingers tightening around your ribs. “fuck.” 

he keeps exploring, but you’re so stunned to hear him curse, practically drunk just hearing him talk, that you’re too busy examining his stoic but somehow awestruck expression when he finds your clit with his thumb. 

“zayne,” you lean forward. 

his brows knit together a bit when you say his name, almost confusion, almost disbelief. “say it again, please-” 

he doesn’t have to ask, really; you gulp it out. “zayne...” 

he lurches forward and presses a kiss to your navel, almost harsh. it stops you from leaning forward too far, but you feel the tug on your stitches.  

“ouch,” you hiss. 

it’s too loud. zayne hears you; drops you immediately. you’re colder than you were with his hands on you. 

“did i hurt you?” he demands. 

you grab him, actually; take his hands back, put them where they were. 

“no, no- keep going, please, don't...” 

you don’t finish. he hears you; rubbing circles with his thumb into the bundle of nerves at the peak of your core. it’s the only finger he can use, technically, from where you’re standing, but something about it is insane.  

you’re so worked up about him touching you, breathing in and out like you’ve just come up from underwater; you forget how good it feels, how it will feel, once he finds- 

“hm,” you swallow, choking over a gasp. 

zayne doesn’t press harder; doesn’t speed up. “like this?” 

you nod. his sigh is audible, ragged. 

“you can say it, though, can’t you?” 

you blink down at him, cheeks burning. “y-yes, like this.” 

zayne growls, almost; softly, and digs his opposite fingers into your ribs. you’re not certain, but he may be feeling around for the best spot to feel your heartbeat. 

“there’s too many nerves here,” he rasps. “to name. but you’re not really thinking about that right now, are you?” 

“i like listening to you,” you choke out. 

zayne smirks. it’s a little broken, with how enraptured he is. “i thought you liked my hands.” 

“scars,” you retort. 

“that was a terrible deflection.” zayne removes his hand from your ribs, too fast, moves down and presses one finger to your heat, inside your folds; he tests it. “can i...” 

you lurch forward. he catches you, lets you drape over his shoulders. it was cruel of him to pretend you could stand the whole time, in the first place. 

“alright,” he rasps, one big hand rubbing the small of your back. “come here.” 

you half-stand, he half-pulls you to the sofa. a red streetlight beneath your apartment blears like a star through the window with the moisture gathering in your eyes. 

zayne helps you lay down, slowly; has you put your head on the armest, and your body in his lap.  

“this will be easier,” he says, smoothing his palm down your front. “try to lay flat.” 

you grind your hips into him, a little humiliated. zayne bucks up; drags a hand over his mouth, either equally humiliated or furious with you. 

he snakes his left hand underneath your crewneck and finds your nipple. he squeezes it, experimentally; you arch and he nods. 

“see? you have more room to move.” 

your nipples pebble under him as he moves about, letting his fingers crawl up to dip into the divot between your collarbones. he presses down there, leans into the ragged breath you take.  

“your hoodie,” he hums. “do you want to leave it on?” 

for a split second, you’re nervous to take it off. but when you lock eyes with him, and see how much he’s blinking, how desperate he is (despite pretending not to be) almost all of your insecurities vanish.  

you sit up, pressing into his lap to shrug off the crewneck. he’s hard underneath you- big. 

“oh, my god,” you whisper. 

“y/n,” he groans.  

zayne exhales sharply and gently cups the space between your shoulder and throat to push you back down. it dawns on you how strong he is, how easily he could throw you around. that, you think, is not in his nature. 

he presses his palm flat to the space between your breasts. you watch his eyes dart around, taking in every inch of your torso, of your now naked body on top of him.  

abruptly, he takes your clit with the pad of his finger again; but only for a moment, as he tests his middle finger at your center again.  

“there are nerves here, too,” he says darkly. “you don’t care about that anymore. can i?” 

you nod, practically shimmying down his lap to bring him closer. “yes, please, yes.” 

he dips one finger into your cunt, experimentally- but it’s easy. he slides the one finger in, and when you gasp, he takes his chance to slide in a second. you almost sit straight up. 

he starts pumping, excruciatingly slow. “do you have any idea how guilty i’ve felt?” 

you squirm, whining; he says nothing about it.  

“how many times you’ve come in to the office and not known i wanted to touch you like this? you come in for stitches on your hips, here,” he says, dragging his free hand down to ghost over the bandage. “i couldn’t believe it. and you had no idea i wanted you like this; it’s been agony.” 

“i did know,” you lie. 

“not entirely,” zayne presses, pumping faster in and out of you, “or you wouldn’t be so worked up.” 

his hands are so big, his fingers are so long; you can’t imagine being fuller than this. 

“zayne,” you whimper. it’s astonishing to you that you’ve ended up like this, but you can’t be bothered to care how you sound. 

he breathes deeply, like it’s sex for him every time you say his name.  

“you’ve wanted this,” zayne drawls. “how long?” 

“always,” you gasp. “a-always.” 

“fuck, y/n.” 

he picks up the pace one more time and you know this is it- he's determined, needs to see you cum. you squirm and writhe around in his lap, and his free hand follows every inch of it; smoothing up and down your body, but you’re almost certain he’s trying to rile you up more than he’s trying to soothe you. 

the coil in your stomach is tightens, taught like a string; you’re close.  

zayne leans down and presses a kiss to the shell of your ear.  

“i know everything about you,” he murmurs. “about your body. i know how your heartbeat feels; i’ve stitched you together. but this...is better than anything i could have imagined.” 

you cry out as you come undone, clenching around zayne’s fingers. he pulls you up into him, careful to keep your hips flat as he holds you to his chest. you bury your face in his neck, riding it out, his fingers still inside you.  

“do your stitches feel alright?” he hums.  

“shut u-up.” 

•✧•

if you know medicine and the nerves are wonky i'm begging you. remain quiet. thanks to ⚡ anon for requesting the first part of this!!! love u all!!

@lost-in-time-wanderer ur tag <3

[twinklychan]

[9:55 PM] - Drabble

Bangchan drabble, fluff

I got inspired by a video where a baby bump turned red after the husband complimented his wife, and It was so cute I had to write something with that as inspo !

A smile tugs on your lips as Chan kisses your neck, then your eyelids, your nose.

"I love you, you're so beautiful." He muses as he kisses your temples, trying to get as close to you as possible. You giggle, hands meeting his bare chest as you gently push him away from your body, trying to look into his eyes.

You peck his lips and then mumble a small 'thank you', trying to suppress the shy giggles that leave your lips.

Your head moves beside his, lips grazing the tips of his ears as you breathe out.

"I love you." You whisper for only the both of you to know, as if you were in a crowded room. Only that you were not. You're not in a crowded room. You're in your bedroom cuddling and being affectionate.

"Whoops, sorry." Chan chuckles when your bump moves. A small movement yet so meaningful for the both of you.

"Didn't mean to hurt you, little one." He smiled, kissing your bump.

He then traced a line down your baby bump. It has grown a lot in the past 8 months. It was so big that it was getting hard to just cuddle. You started laughing at the feeling of his hand.

"I love you too." He mumbles to the baby.

And on that cue your stomach turns red. Your body furiously blushing at the sight in front of you. Something so intimate about it makes you feel flustered.

"Aww." Chan coos between his giggles as his head turns to you again, the stars in his eyes aligning into a heart.

"Your belly blushed!" He giggles excitedly about this newfound reaction of your body. You giggle as well, pouting right after.

"Well- I mean- how can I not when you're being so sweet?!" You ask, jokingly exasperated as the pout on your face deepens into a frown.

"Stop. Don't look at me like that." He cries out, his hands cupping your cheeks as he tries to kiss the pout away.

"You're so cute." He whines as he showers your face with kisses. They feel like clouds hovering over you, and it feels comfortable.

That's what it was like to date chan, just comfortable moments with each other. Showering in love together as if the feeling never runs out. And it doesn't.

[pshbites]

love. - pjs

genre ⇢ tooth rotting fluff, drabble

pairing ⇢ gf!femreader x bf!jay

wc ⇢ 640

warning(s) ⇢ food, cursing, simply fluff, not proofread

a/n : me writing smth other than love on air... if you liked this please be sure to reblog and like this! feedback is always apreciated <3 and join my perma taglist here

you gently shut the door of yours and jays shared apartment, trying your best to make the most minimal noise possible. you were promoted at your job this year, of course it was a great feat but with it came longer hours and a harder workload. it was safe to say that this wasn’t the first time you came home past 9 pm. 

you slipped off your jacket and hung it on the rack, slipping your shoes off as well and picking them up. you walked to yours and jays bedroom and pushed the door open softly, revealing jay sound asleep in bed. 

trying not to make any noise, you tiptoe around the room. “fuck!” you whisper-shouted after hitting your knee on the bed frame. jay stirred in bed then saw you, holding your shoes, caught red handed. “I'm sorry babe, I didn't mean to wake you” you mumbled, frowning as he shook his head, clearly tired. “are you okay?” he rubbed his eyes and looked at you. “yeah, just let me change i’ll be in bed in a bit okay?” he nods, laying back down. 

after washing up and changing your clothes, you walked back to the bed, seeing jay still laying there in the same position he was before. he shut his phone and opened the covers for you to slip in. he smiled as you laid next to him. you turned facing him, smiling softly. “hi” his hand reached to your face, brushing any stray hairs out of the way. “how was work?” you could hear the sleepiness in his voice and frowned a little. 

“it was alright, you know just work.” you hesitated, pursing your lips. “what is it?” jay mumbled, furrowing his brows slightly. “i’m sorry, i keep coming home late” he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t apologize you’re working babe, i get it” you nodded, still feeling the guilt in your chest.

 jay sighed out once more, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “whatever you’re thinking stop, i promise yn it’s not an issue at all, okay?” he looked in your eyes, making you smile a little. if all else failed, you knew jay would always reassure you no matter what. 

you nodded, smiling softly. jay kissed your forehead and pulled you into his chest, your head resting against it. you loved when the two of you laid like this, you could hear his heartbeat and it was almost like a lullaby. like that time at night when everything fell into place. 

jays fingers were lost in your hair, brushing it, playing with it, anything really. “should we have breakfast together tomorrow?” you spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. “we haven’t done that in a while have we?” jay hummed back, resting his chin on your head. “nope” you replied, rubbing his shirt. 

“i’ll make whatever you want me to babe” jay said, making you giggle a little. “i can’t pamper my boyfriend?” you picked your head up, angling your body to face him, your chin on his chest now. “yn, as much as i love you, you can’t cook for shit” he whispered that last part out, making you slap his chest lightly. “how rude!” he only laughed in response, stroking your hair. 

“i’d rather do all the work for you that’s all” he replied, looking at you with so much adoration. you nodded, smiling softly. “okay, i can get around that” you spoke, resting your head on his chest once more.

 jay continued to play with your hair. “so do you want pancakes or waffles?” jay mumbled out, only hearing you breathing in return. he furrowed his brows, “babe? yn?” he peaked over to see you sound asleep, making him smile. he kissed the top of your head and laid back, falling fast asleep. 

[smoochkooks]

—chapter twenty: this hope is treacherous

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, smut

word count: 2.4k words summary: it is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. but for a while, you did.

previous || next

Jungkook [Thursday, May 3rd, 05:32 pm]

How did it go? Soojin says everything’s fine between you

Want to grab bulgogi on Saturday? Same place as usual

Jungkook [Saturday, May 5th, 01:05 am]

Is everything alright? You haven’t been answering my texts

Jungkook [Saturday, may 5th, 03:45 pm]

Can I call you?

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th, 9:33 am]

Are you sick? Do you need something? I can drop by later today after work

I’m worried

Why are you not responding????

YN?

You [Wednesday, May 9th 06:15 pm]

Jungkook, sorry I have been MIA this past few days. I needed some time to think and I decided I want to keep some distance between us from now on.

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:23 pm]

What are you talking about? I thought we were good.

Did Soojin say something to you?

You  [Wednesday, May 9th  06:25 pm]

No, nothing happened. Soojin accepted my apology and she decided to move on, as I think we all should.

It was solely my decision and I need you to respect it

One missed call from: Jungkook

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:26 pm]

You won’t even answer my calls?

Come on YN, this is ridiculous

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  08:15 pm]

Fine. I’ll respect your decision. Can I at least talk to you in person about it?

Please

“You’ve been staring at your phone for the past ten minutes, babe. Jungkook’s not going jump out of it, you can calm down for a sec.” Dahyun says from her place on your couch.

It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays for Dahyun are reserved for self-care, which often means trying out new face mask recipes she saw on TikTok. And since, as she stated a long time ago, “You’re my bestest friend, ever, ___” you are obligated to take part in it as well. If you refuse to participate, you should gear up for the Cheong Dahyun’s wrath.

That’s why you’re currently soaking your feet in a mixture of soap, bathing oils and a secret ingredient Dahyun doesn’t want to disclose, with a hydrating sheet mask on your face.

You lock your phone and throw it to the other side of the couch. “I should probably just ignore him completely.”

Dahyun rips off her sheet mask in a way too dramatic manner and turns to look at you. “And let that she-devil win? Fuck, no!” she blurts out.

You snort. “She-devil?”

“I would call her the b-word but I’m trying to cut down on derogatory terms when referring to women, even those who deserve to be called that,” she explains, massaging her neck with the sheet mask’s oily residue. “Anyway, I think you should tell Jungkook the truth. She’s manipulating both you and him!”

“If a say a word to Jungkook, she’s going to write a post on her social media and not only expose me, but also accuse of having an affair with him.” you reason.

“Just tell Jungkook she’s threatening you. He’s going to see right-through her bullshit, leave her alone and be with you,” Dahyun shrugs like your predicament isn’t complex at all, and motions for you to take your feet out of the water. She tosses you a white towel and hands an opaque container. “Now put that onto your feet. Girls on TikTok are saying they will feel like heaven. And smell like lavender too!”

You scoop the cream onto your nail and sigh. “It’s not that easy. She is his wife and he loves her, of course he will take her side. He might not even believe me,” you say. Your eyebrows involuntarily rise, inhaling the cream’s scent. “It does smell like lavender.”

Dahyun makes ‘I told you so’ face before replying, “You’ve got twenty years of friendship on her.”

 “And unrequited crush, and a whole book about it.” you point out.

“I forgot how complicated your life has become these days,” Dahyun says, shaking her head. “So what? You’re just going to give up? Ignore his messages, calls, don’t answer the door when he’s on the other side, hide in the bush when you’ll  randomly see him on the street and only contact him once a year for his birthday?” she asks.

Initially, your plan was to wait a few weeks after your confrontation with Soojin and eventually things would get back to normal, slowly and steadily. You’re used to being on stand-by, after all. But that was before you actually met up with her to talk. Before she’s threatened to reveal your biggest secret to the whole world. Variété would never grant you another book deal after such scandal. You would be ruined for good and blacklisted by every single publishing company in this country. You can’t risk your career like that. Not now, not when you’re already working on your new book and this time you decided to release it under your real name.

You think about your parents. What would they think about their daughter? Surely they would feel disappointed. Lastly, you think about Jungkook. If you let Soojin get away with her threats, you might lose Jungkook for good. And that would slowly kill you.

“Okay, fine. I will try to talk to him about it.” you finally decide.

Dahyun claps her hands. “I knew it! Gosh, You’re down bad for this man, aren’t you?” she asks, grinning.

“Stop teasing me or I’m going to cancel our next self-care Wednesday.”

She gasps. “You wouldn’t. I have gua-sha massages planned for that day.”

“Try me!”

You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:08 pm]

Okay. We can talk in person

Jungkook  [Wednesday, May 9th 11:09 pm]

I’m visiting Busan this weekend. Soojin has a business trip so I’ll be alone

Would you like to go with me?

You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:12 pm]

Busan is fine by me. I missed my parents

I will take the train though.

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th 11:13 pm]

See you there

“There she is! My lovely daughter!”

It’s the first thing you hear after getting off the train at the railway station in Busan. Your mum hugs you tight and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Your dad couldn’t leave work earlier today so I’m picking you up instead,” She puts her hands on your shoulders and eyes you carefully. The smile she was wearing just seconds ago leaves her face. “I can tell you haven’t been eating well! What have I told you? You need to eat or you won’t have any energy!”

There it is. The world could be on fire and your mom would still worry about you not eating enough. Twenty-something years have gone by, and she’s still relentlessly reminding you to do so.

You roll your eyes, as you always do. “What did you make for dinner, then?” you ask, opening the car’s trunk and putting your bag there.

Your mom’s mood instantly lights up. “Chicken soup and jajangmyeon, your favorite,” she answers and starts the engine. “By the way, Jungkookie is also at his parents’, he arrived yesterday. Why haven’t you come with him?”

“I had a meeting at the publishing company that I couldn’t postpone,” you lie. “I’m meeting him later today, though.”

“I can’t believe my daughter is going to be a published author so-hey, you idiot! Who gave you a driving license?!” she yells. The young driver raises his hand in apology and your mom huffs. “It’s always the young ones! Anyway, do you know that Jungkook never visits his parents with that wife of his? I’ve only seen her once, during their engagement party for the whole family. You know which one, they did a big barbecue in the backyard. She seemed nice then, but a bit too standoffish, don’t you think? She comes from money, right?”

“Yeah, her parents own a company in Seoul that distributes vegetables and fruits all over the country. They also export, I think.” you reply, staring at the busy streets of Busan. You would probably rather talk about sex with your mom than discuss Jungkook’s marriage life, but your mom is a busy-body and loves gossip too much to let that slide.

To say the last, Soojin’s father is a big name in the industry. Jungkook told you once that he had to attend a dinner with Soojin and her parents, hosted by the minister of agriculture. You remember how much Jungkook worried he might not fit in the family. Soojin grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, attending private schools and going on vacations overseas. The summer after they officially had started dating, Jungkook worked two jobs so he could afford to go to Thailand with her. What was a standard for Soojin, was a hard-earned commodity for Jungkook.

Your mom whistles. “No wonder she doesn’t like coming here to Busan. Too posh for that, ha! And especially now, with two extra people in the house. Oh, ___, they are such cute babies! Everyone is head over heels for them.” she says, beaming.

You smile to yourself. Junghyun, Jungkook’s older brother, got married four years before him to his high school sweetheart and few months ago she got birth to twins. Knowing Jungkook, he’s probably spoiling them with presents every time he visits.

And speaking of the devil, you notice his car immediately as your mom pulls up to your driveway. With a heavy sigh, you brace yourself for what’s to come.

Four years ago, Junghyun’s wedding party

“So, my dear brother, when am I going to dance at your wedding?”

Junghyun was clearly drunk, his speech slurred as he wrapped his hands around Jungkook’s shoulders and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. You giggled, positively buzzed yourself.

“I’m twenty-one and I just got back from the military. Let me live a little.” Jungkook grumbled and shoved his older brother away.

Really, it had been a little over two months now. His hair had grown into a nice length, the buzzcut long gone. He had gotten more buff, his dress shirt holding for dear life in some places. He’s matured, no longer a nineteen-year-old who had just finished high school but a grown adult.

Truth to be told, you missed him terribly.

Junghyun sat next to Jungkook, opened yet another soju bottle and poured a shot for each one of you. “To my beautiful wife Mina. I love you, honey!” he shouted and downed the alcohol. You could see Mina from across the room shaking her head with a soft smile playing on her lips. You grew up watching them fall for each other more and more with every passing day. If soulmates existed, Mina and Junghyun were definitely destined to be together.

“What about that birdie you’re dating now, huh? Sodam or something? Huh?” Junghyun asked, poking Jungkook in the ribs teasingly.

Jungkook’s already flushed cheeks, reddened ever more. “Her name’s Soojin and we are not dating. We went on one date,” he said sternly. “Besides, she’s out of my league. Her parents are super rich. Do you know she’s been to Paris this summer? She probably doesn’t know how cup noodles taste like!”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing, then.” Junghyun shrugged his shoulders. He poured himself another shot of soju and looked at you, then at his younger brother, his face weirdly serious all of a sudden. “You know what I think?” he asked.

“I haven’t gained the ability to read your thoughts yet, hyung.”

Junghyun smacked Jungkook’s head. “Aish, who taught you to speak like that to your hyung?” You knew that, from the way Jungkook was biting his lips to refrain from laughing, that he wanted so badly to answer: “You did!”, but he decided to let Junghyun continue his drunken monologue. “I think that you and ___ will end up together one day.”

You tried to conceal your surprised expression with a chuckle. “Me and Jungkook? Please, I wouldn’t stand his ass.”

“Hey!”

Junghyun shook his head. “I’m serious. Best relationships, the ones that last years and years, are made out of friendship. Your partner should be your best friend! Look at our parents! Look at me and Mina! We’ve been friends throughout the whole middle school, tiptoeing around each other before one us decided to finally make a move. And now we’re married.” he said, his gaze longingly fixated on his wife. You dared to glance at Jungkook, thinking you’d find him amused by his brother’s drunken speech, but he was looking at Junghyun, not a hint of smile on his lips. “I think that it might take you a while to get there but eventually, I’ll dance at your wedding. And I’ll be really, really happy to do so.”

It is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. But for a while, you did. You replayed that moment over and over again in your head. You thought about Jungkook, his stoic expression while listening to his older brother. How he did not protest. How maybe, he could too imagine that happening. But then he went on another date with Soojin, and another. Started working extra hours to afford her lifestyle. Years gone by, and for some unknown reason, you still hold that memory close to your broken heart. 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Hi! Can you do a Bang-able drabble where he has a glitch in his programing (he's a computer after all), and he shuts off. She has to call the company to help fix him, but it takes a few days. She's miserable without him and when he's working again, she's all over him and he's loving all the attention from her. He could even say something like "wow I should shut off more often" because he just loves how much she missed him. Thank you!

Okay so this is a little different and a lot less excitable but I thought it was cute 🥰

I hope you like it!

(And sorry it took me so long 😅)

~~~~~~

"How long has it been?" Ava ask, sitting down on the couch and handing me a glass of wine, helping me drown my sorrows of being away from him. 

"A couple of days" I say and she hums, trying to hold back her clear need to make fun of me and when I glance up at her after my attention had been on my wine she breaks. "A couple day's without robo-dick got you down this bad?" she snorks, not being able to sympathize with me any longer. 

"It's not just that alright. Although I won't lie in saying that's been on my mind, but I'm worried. What if they reprogram him on accident and we have to start all over? What if they break him and try to replace him with a new model? What if-" 

"Y/n, it's fine. I read up on what's going on and it looks like it's a normal defect that's happened with most of the models that were made around that time and from the looks of it, it seems like it's an easy fix" she interrupts, having looked it up beforehand to quell my worries.

"Yeah, you're probably right...but I've never been away from him this long. I mean he's barely been out of my sight since he got here" I say, making a valid point as to why I'm feeling like this. 

"You really miss him, don't you?" she sighs, realizing that the sex bot part of him, although very prevalent from how often I decide to stay home most weekends, has become a secondary thought for me. "I do" I say, not needing to point out the elephant in the room but still wanting to voice my feelings. 

"He's my best friend...besides you" I admit and she scoffs "Thanks". 

She rolls her eyes and gets up to grab the other half of the second bottle she had forgotten on the counter but before we can change or even continue the subject there's a knock on my door. 

She looks over at me but I shrug, deciding to let her answer it since it's almost ten pm and let's admit it, she's a lot more fearless than I am. 

Getting up on her tip toes she looks out of the peephole and when she's realized who it is she turns around, a smirk splayed across her face. "You're gonna wanna to answer it" she says and steps aside, waiting for me to do as she says and when I stand up and cautiously make my way to the door I look out the peephole as well and it's like I can't unlock the door fast enough. 

"Took you long enough" he smirks and braces for impact since I'm literally clinging onto him as soon as I open the door. "I missed you" I say, burring my face into his neck and breathing in that familiar scent I bought him. "Missed you too baby" he chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me in so there's no space between us. 

"And that's my cue to leave" Ava interrupts, her bag already on her shoulder and her shoes on her feet. "Wait you don't have to lea-" "I'm going before the tension gets too high between the two of you and I feel like even more of a third wheel than I already am" she interrupts, parting her way through the both of us and throwing a half ass wave our way. 

"Thanks Ava" Jungkook smirks, looking down at me and appreciating the unspoken agreement they have.

"Yeah yeah whatever lover boy, just don't leave her for that long again. Mopey y/n is a pain to deal with" she sighs. "Hey!" I call out in protest but she's already at the elevator when that simple word leaves my lips. "Bye" she waves again, a devious look in her eyes since she knows I'll be thanking her later. 

"Don't you ever leave me for that long again!" I scold him, as if he had a say in any of this. "I've literally been out cold since they took me back y/n, I had zero concept of time until I 'woke up'" he says with air quotes, slipping inside the apartment and closing the door. 

"Ew don't call me that" I say and walk further into the living room with him trailing behind me. "That's your name isn't it?" he says so matter o' factly that I whip around way too fast, scared that my fears might've become a reality.

"No no no no! Don't tell me they reprogramed you! Your memories are all gone aren't they? I knew I shouldn't have let them take you! The glitch wasn't that big of a deal! I thought you spacing out all the time was really cute. I jus-" 

"Baby" he says in a way that convinces me I was wrong, making me let out a breath. "I haven't forgotten about you and I sure as hell made sure I came back to you as soon as possible" he reassures me and that alone is enough. 

"Really?" I pout, having stopped the nervous pacing I had been doing since I started my short lived spiral. "Really really" he assures me, pulling me in by my waist, making me place my hands on his shoulders in turn, looking up at him and seeing that same expression he gives me when he's trying to convince me that everything'll be okay. 

"Come here" he says, taking one of his hands off my hip and placing it on my cheek, angling my face just right so he can kiss me. That same familiar feeling hitting my senses when he kisses me perfectly, matching with the pace he knows always makes me dizzy. 

"Believe me now?" he chuckles once I pulled back, looking up at him suspiciously. "Maybe" I say, narrowing my eyes, still not fully convinced but enough to know that my Jungkook is back. 

Not a new and improved one, my Jungkook.

"There were a few things they changed though, well more like added" he admits and I step back, leaving his embrace, skeptical and scared about what it might be. "What is it?" I whisper, and he chuckles before stalking towards me, telling me everything I need to know but with every step forward he takes, I take one back. 

"No no no I'm not in the mood for that right now" I say and he sighs, reeling in that predatory gaze. "Didn't you say you missed me though?" he huffs and I scoff, realizing how nosy he remains, another sign that he's still the same. 

"How long were you spying on us?" I cock a brow at him, crossing my arms over my chest and demanding an answer. "First thing I heard was Ava making fun of you for missing my robo-dick" he grins making me roll my eyes, sitting down on the couch, crossing my arms and feeling embarrassed that he heard all of that.

"It's cute to know that you missed me so much…and my robo-dick" he smiles and sits down next to me, pulling me under his arm even through my stiffened protest. "Whatever" I pout, not wanting him to know how hopeless I am without him, although I'm sure he could've guessed since I'm not good at hiding my emotions around him. 

"I missed you too" he chuckles and lays my head down on his lap instead, caressing my face and tracing all my features, almost as if he hadn't committed them to memory already...literally. "You sure you don't wanna..." he asks, the new features he had hinted at before clearly being something the company is wanting to get feedback on. 

"I just...I just wanna be with you" I confess, laying on my back with my head still in his lap, looking up at him and just enjoying the fact that he's back. "You're so adorable, you know that?" he coos, pinching my cheek just the slightest bit but I don't mind it. Not this time. 

I continue to study him, completely silent for a while watching him look down at me, looking just as fascinated in me as I am with him. Maybe it's just a feature for data collection but those are things I've come to ignore now. 

"Come here" I whisper and use one hand to slowly encourage him to lean down and kiss me, the angle awkward but it doesn't matter, with him all that matters is the here and now...

and that's enough for me.

~~~~

Read the full One Shot here 💜

[plutoenjoyer]

jooyeon — randomly biting him

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

genre: fluff tags: drabble, female reader, biting, lots of playful teasing, cuddling, body kisses, established relationship

jooyeon did not sign up to have a teething puppy for a girlfriend but alas, he puts up with you randomly biting him because he loves you. you keep doing it because his reactions are always entertaining, so maybe he should figure out how to keep a straight face (skill issue).

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

while gaming

the idea pops into your head one day and you can't stop thinking about it. you know yourself to be very kind and caring towards your boyfriend, but you love to (playfully) mess with him even more. eventually, after pretty much no debate with yourself (really, not even a 'hmm, maybe he's busy') you give into your curiosity as you watch jooyeon gaming. he's extremely focused on the screen, playing some sort of fast paced flashing confusion of a game. this would be the optimal time to strike. your lips are contorted into the most mischievous smile yet, trying not to laugh as you approach him from behind. it seems he's doing poorly because he keeps clicking his tongue and mumbling to himself. he doesn't even notice you looming over and eyeing his very beautiful, very exposed neck (he's wearing his favorite t-shirt, once again). you may have ulterior motives other than just messing with him, but that's a story for another day. of course, you don't want to really upset him so you wait until he's in a loading screen to do it. quickly you lean down, and sink your teeth into the muscle in the curve of his neck and shoulder—gentle but firm, not enough to hurt him but enough to cause a mild and hilarious discomfort, much to your amusement. he shrieks and turns to look at you in both fear and maybe a little bit of lust? you wouldn't put it past him to be a freak like that, but it's hard to tell from how you immediately start uncontrollably snickering at his surprised yelp, so much so that you can't focus on the light blush dusting his features.

"what the— i— huh?" he looks at you in horror, a band clasped up to his neck where there's now a very light mark of red on his skin. he doesn't notice the game is starting on the screen behind him.

"babe...? ...hey? babe?" an utterly confused remark. you can feel yourself getting addicted already.

you say nothing as you walk away, shooting him a thumbs up with a signature stupid grin, and go back to whatever menial task you were up to while waiting for him to be done.

getting ready

this time he's brushing his teeth. usually when you two wake up, way, way past noon on the days you have off, you'll get ready for the day together in the tiny, shared bathroom of his dorm. he's still not expecting or nor knows to look out for your attack. his mouth is full of foamy toothpaste when you decide, on a whim, that you really want to feel the skin of his shoulder between your teeth all of a sudden. and so you do, having already finished brushing your teeth because you're not a sleepyhead like him at one pm. you try to keep the same pressure as last time as to not hurt him. yet again, he yelps and you find it incredibly amusing, and also extremely cute. you handle yourself better this time, making it a point to be extra cheeky about it by not having a large reaction, though it's hard not to let a grin slip. this time he shoots you the most adorable pout coupled with a furrowed brow—it's hard to scold someone when your mouth is filled with toothpaste. it looks like he's starting to understand this will be a reoccurring thing.

"what?" you muster your most nonchalant voice as you pick up your moisturizer and start to lather your face, completely unfazed as if nothing had interrupted his brushing.

he quickly finishes up and washes out his mouth. he looks you dead in the eye. "you will pay for this."

without missing a beat, you reply, "i have no idea what you might mean?"

he rolls his eyes with a scoff, trying not to laugh at your antics though you both know he thinks you're adorable.

sitting together

you're sitting next to him in the practice room. he's fiddling with his bass and the new little gadgets he's gotten for himself that changes the sound—you're no expert, but you love to watch him be so animated and excited over his love of music. you love it so much so that the cuteness aggression once again bubbles up in your chest and you have the urge to bite him. you go quiet all of a sudden and this time he knows.

"aaaah-ah-ah. i know exactly what you're thinking." it's like he's scolding an energetic puppy. "you will not catch me off guard this time. i'm prepared."

you frown at him, a little displeased that he knows your tells now. you didn't think it was that obvious considering how many times he didn't see it coming. but you utilize this to your advantage, seeming more genuinely confused as you try to convince him that you're innocent. "hm? what are you talking about?"

he gives you a look like he can't decide whether he wants to play along and just let you do it or press further and win on a self-satisfying level. he purses his lips, thinks for a bit, even grumbles to himself. you can see the underlying thought process of his mind just from the way his face contorts. it's like he's asking himself what would be the more amusing option. if you were literally anyone else he would have fought for his pride and honor like the true maknae he is but he loves you to the point where he'll just let you win. you both are truly two peas in a pod.

after a moments pause, he goes, "...it's nothing. but, oh man, my poor cold exposed neck is so cold and exposed to the weather right now! so cold and so out in the open. i hope nothing bad happens!"

you laugh so hard you feel your stomach cramping. he starts cackling too, literal snorts of laughter, and he playfully smacks your arm. "c'mon, i'm doing this for you—"

before he can finish his sentence you're already launching yourself at him. you can't help it. this man has your whole heart. you give him a huge kiss on the cheek, then on his mouth, and lightly nip at the skin of his top lip. he's even caught off guard by that, you wonder if you'll ever get tired of seeing him surprised. but eventually he eases into it, holding his bass away from him so he can be closer and kiss you easier. you're both laughing into each other's lips. it's perfect.

it takes a whole makeup wipe to get off all the lipgloss from his cheeks and nose and forehead. you might have gotten carried away.

trying to nap

biting him has become a sign of affection for you now. you're both cuddling in bed, napping after a long day of hard work. this time around, you're wrapped up in his arms with your face close to his chest. if you turn your head, you can get a perfect angle of his forearm... maybe you're a little tired, or maybe you want to signal something much more affectionate, but you bite him very gently on his bicep, kissing the area right after. he doesn't complain or retaliate, instead there's just a slightly amused exhale from his nose, the kind that someone does when they're too tired to react in full. you snuggle further into his chest afterwards.

"why do you do this?" his voice is groggy and raspy, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

"because you're funny. you're cute, too, but mostly funny."

he let's out a playfully annoyed noise, one that signals that he's accepted his fate as your boyfriend and squeaky toy, before asking, "do i at least taste good?"

"hmm," you muse while thinking of your next response, "nah, too salty."

he laughs at that. "too salty?" there's a pause, as if he has to choose his words carefully, "what can i do to get sweeter?"

you start to laugh, too, because that's so cringe. but you play along anyway, "oh? get sweeter? it's almost like you want me to bite you. did you discover something new about yourself?"

"so you admit to biting me!"

damn, he got you there. you scrunch your nose at that, not saying a word because you don't want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it after how long you've committed to acting unaware.

you choose to deflect, "whatever! i think you secretly enjoy it anyway!"

"nuh uh."

"you so do."

"and what makes you think that?"

you don't want to explain that you've been paying attention to how his face gets a little red and how his pupils get just a little blown out whenever you do so. he unknowingly will give you such an entranced look for just a split second until he goes back to remembering he's supposed to be annoyed with you about it. and you don't want to explain how much that makes you want to bite him more.

"i just think you do."

he studies you face, trying to piece together what you may be thinking about so deeply when it would be much more common for you to come back at him with a snippy retort rather than such a mild response.

"okay, then do it again and see how i react."

your heart starts to beat faster. is that a challenge? a threat? a promise of something more?

you look into his eyes. they're beautiful and deep dark brown. you can barely look away as you shift to gently push him down on the shoulders and position yourself over him. he seems to enjoy watching you take the lead, especially when your face is the one flushed and slightly embarassed at his provocation.

wordlessly, you bring your lips down to his jawline and pepper kisses along his neck. you feel the way his breathing hitches with every subtle ghosting of your lips and every slight breath that tickles his skin—it leaves you absolutely captivated. all that exists is this moment.

you finally bring your teeth down into that same swoop of his neck and shoulders just like that first time, but it's so much different now. the sweetest that you've ever tasted.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

masterlist | request rules | inbox

thank you for reading! <3

[maybege]

How It All Started

Summary: Things between you and your roommate, Paz, escalate.

Pairing: roommate!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Free Use Arrangement AU, Roommate AU, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, (un)requited pining, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, Paz is an idiot in love (they both are), little bit of jealous Paz

Hello hello, my loves, and welcome to the start of a brand new series! This will be a drabble series with no strung-together plot but just the opportunity to dabble in this universe whenever I feel like it. We get to explore some different kinks and all the goodness and fluff of a Paz romance. If you are liking the idea of roommate!Paz paired with a Free Use AU, I can guarantee that you will absolutely fall in love with The Roommate Agreement by @bitchin-beskar. As always also a shoutout to @mostly-megan who lets me brainstorm literally months before I put anything on the page.

Without further ado, I present to you the introductory part of The Adventures of Apartment 23C. Please let me know what you think in a reblog or a comment!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

gif by @casian

Paz never saw himself as a dom.

Yeah, sure, he liked to be in charge in the bedroom and in previous relationships he’d never been shy to venture into a kinkier direction but overall, he wouldn’t call himself a dom. Hell, he didn’t even know what half of the stuff meant that some of his more adventurous friends threw around. No, for all intents and purposes, Paz would put himself in the category “normal” – whatever that was supposed to mean.

But one Thursday night, he found himself googling “free use meaning” and realized that if he were to tell Boba about what he might’ve gotten himself into, even his most experienced friend would be impressed. So, how had it come this?

It was all your fault, really. Well, kind of.

Maybe not at all.

*

You had been his roommate for a little over two years now.

Stars, he liked the way your body moved, liked the dips and the curves and your smile and how your eyes shone when you smiled and how you were such a tease because you trusted him. When he first met you, his first impression had been that you were a little … stuck-up, maybe, reserved certainly. And to be honest, you still weren’t super open and outgoing even around your friends.

But you were with him.

You flashed him your panties, called out his big dick energy (not without a nervous stutter, though, which made him grin every time), asked him for advice on dates and complained. Really, it was like any normal friendship. Only that he wanted to fuck you. And when you flashed him your panties one time too many, he was sure you wanted him to fuck you too.

Which he did.

It was more of an accident, really.

It was 3 pm on a Sunday evening, everything was nice and quiet and he was watching a football game when you came out of your room. You were wearing a little silk robe. One, that Paz feverishly tried not to gawk at and instead pretended to have his eyes on the game.

“I need your opinion on something,” you announced shyly, leaning against the doorframe, “As a man.”

Man opinion, he scoffed internally, already feeling his cock twitch because he knew you were about to show him something that would haunt him in his dreams. But he nodded anyway because he was a lovesick idiot who would do anything to just get a glimpse of your bare skin.

And so, you revealed the most delicate baby pink lingerie set made out of lace. His throat got uncomfortably dry and he couldn’t even focus on the point his team made because you were turning around, popping out your ass, posing for him and stars he wanted to feel the weight of your tits in his palms.

“What about it?” He asked gruffly, trying so hard not to sound as jealous as he was.

“Do you think Dreks will like it?” you asked and he hated how genuinely insecure you sounded.

Dreks was the ultimate asshole, of that he was sure. He’d only met the guy once when he had come to pick you up for a date (35 minutes late, which meant that Paz had seen you pacing and worrying for 35 minutes and it broke his heart) and if he’d never had to see him again it’d still be too many encounters.

Dreks was someone you had worked with briefly, a kind of department hopper in your company, someone who thought himself to be more important than he was and who, in turn, was quick to treat people who did not deserve it like absolute trash. Paz had no idea what you found so interesting about your colleague that it deserved a third date.

But before he could rein himself in, the words were already out of his mouth. “You’re not wearing that,” he said, matter-of-factly. He wanted to chide himself immediately because who was he to decide what you wore? Who was he to decide who you dated?

But there was something in your eyes and the way your shoulders relaxed that kind of gave him the impression that maybe … maybe you liked that.

“Oh?” you went quiet, your fingers toying with the thin strap of your bra and Paz allowed himself to really look at you. The lace of the bra was so delicate you might as well have worn nothing and his cock twitched when he realised he could see your nipples through the fabric. He could see so much and yet so little and his mind immediately imagined what it would feel like to run his thick fingers under the cups of the brad, teasing your nipples until you would beg him to take it off and –

“Don’t you want me to wear pretty things?”

He groaned, your sweet voice like heaven in his ears and stars did you even know what you were saying? Did you know what that did to him?

And then you took a few steps closer and his legs opened and you stepped in between and stars, you were so fucking close and he was so hard. When your knee brushed against the inside of his thigh, he could feel his cock twitch.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out his hand and putting it on your hip, “But only for me.”

He couldn’t really remember what happened then. Only that, minutes later, you were folded underneath him, writhing as he pushed his cock inside you.

“Paz,” you sighed dreamily and he swore he fell in love with the sight of your pussy stretching around his girth, “Paz, you’re so big.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed you, “just relax for me, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, head tilted back as the sun fell over your face and he, for all intents and purposes, fucked you into the couch. He was still half dressed, his shirt thrown over the couch and his jeans barely pulled down to his hips. Your panties were still hanging on your ankles and he had not managed to get you out of that bra. Though he did not mind because you still looked like a dream come true.

You felt like a dream too, your walls hot and wet and clenching so tight around him. And then there was the way, you melted into him, you listened to him. Everything he said, you did. You were pliant and eager and so lovely and when he teased you about coming inside “that pretty little pussy”, you actually came right on his cock, overwhelmed tears streaming down your face as you begged him to “please do it, Paz, please please please”.

He came harder than ever before, his cock pumping you full and it satisfied something deep inside him to see the way his come leaked down your thighs and how you opened your mouth for him when he scooped your combined release up, dropping it onto your tongue.

The “good girl” that slipped from his tongue just felt like natural progress, then.

*

After a few (excruciating) days of not talking to you, Paz realized that as much as he had avoided you, you had avoided him. But hearing your muffled cries, there was no more time to be a coward.

“Are you okay?” he asked, feeling a little awkward standing in your doorway. But he also could not not talk to you. You were one of the most important people in his life, literally, a person he shared his life with.  

“It’s over between me and Dreks,” you sobbed while hugging a pillow to your chest, “Th-That asshole better never show his face again.”

His heart felt a little lighter, knowing that Dreks was officially out of the picture. Though a much bigger part of him was furious at the man for leaving you in such a state.

“Oh,” he shifted on his feet, “Do, uh, do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “I just feel so humiliated and – and stupid and he – I – “

Paz sat down on your bed, knowing you well enough to know that you wanted to talk about it. He sat down, his hands fishing the pillow from your grasp and pulling you into his arms. He could immediately feel you relax, your face nuzzling into his chest.

“I found something was missing in … in our relationship,” you revealed and he hummed, “And when he mentioned becoming exclusive, I asked him if he’d be willing to, uh, indulge me, he laughed at me.”

Paz could not shake the feeling that that missing piece was something rather intimate which already had him panicked thinking of how to steer the conversation in a more appropriate direction. Stars knew if he thought too long about you in any intimate setting he’d get hard as a rock.

Especially now that he knew what you felt like, that he knew what you sounded like, that he knew how pliant you were for him. But then he heard the pain in your voice, how beaten down you felt and he knew there was only one solution.

“I’m gonna beat that son of a bitch to a pulp,” he muttered and stood up. Dreks had always been on thin ice anyway but upsetting you was the last straw. That meagre man would live his last moments in fear, regretting every time he had treated you with disrespect.

“No, please,” your hands wrapped around his bicep and pulled him back down. And he let himself be pulled because it was you. And there was nothing he would not do for you. You were much closer now, still sniffling a little and he became highly aware of how you were only wearing a large t-shirt, your bare legs tangled around his.

“How dare he treat you like that?” he demanded gruffly, “Not liking something is one thing but, uh, shaming you for something you’d like? That’s just an asshole move.”

You nodded eagerly. “It is,” you agreed quietly, splaying your fingers until your fingertips brushed over his jaw, “It just went to show what I was too scared to admit to myself.”

Paz hummed, relishing in your touch. He angled himself towards you, heart skipping a beat in what suspiciously felt like …. hope. “And that is?”

“That we weren’t all that compatible all along,” you whispered, “I have, uh, I have needs and I deserve someone who, uh, who fulfils them.”

“Needs, hm?” he teased you, running his nose along your exposed throat and hearing your breath shudder did things go him, “that wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened in the living room the other night?”

“Maybe a little,” you breathed, your hand wandering up to the back of his neck and you tilted your head, offering yourself to him and stars how did he get so lucky?

“Have you, um, have you ever heard of free use?” you asked him shyly, gasping when he planted a slow kiss on your neck.

He shook his head, still nipping at your skin.

When you did not say anything more, he pulled away.

“Well, it’s, uh,” you took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze and instead looking at the far-right corner of the ceiling, “it’s something that really interests me. And … if you’re amenable, I’d like to try that. With you.”

He still didn’t say anything.

“You know, like a friends-with-benefits kind of thing?”

“Hm.”

He knew he should probably say more and he did want to assure you that he wanted to do that. With you. Hell, yes.

But for some reason, all he could do was stare and awe at your courage, at your confidence, at how you were sitting there in your lounge outfit and still looked like the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Stars, he really wanted to make you come again.

“Let me,” he cleared his throat, sitting up and spreading his legs which was not something he was aware of until he saw your eyes drift to his crotch and there it was again – that cocky continence that popped up whenever he saw you a little flustered. “Let me do some research, sweetheart, and we will talk about it some more, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled shyly, untangling yourself from him though he still followed you like a puppy when you pulled him to the kitchen, “Dinner?”

*

And that was how he found himself in front of his laptop, reading some explanatory article on free use and getting hard as a rock at the idea that you wanted that with him. But if there was one thing he knew it was that he would make you come several times a day if he only got the chance.

[luviestarz]

nct pt 2

tyonfs masterlist (nct)

NCT FF RECOS

nsheetee’s masterlist (nct)

jenonctcity masterlist (nct)

loviejaehyun masterlist (nct)

gohyuck masterlist (nct)

babyflossy masterlist (nct)

nct fic recs

imagine — making out with nct 127 (m)

holy-hyuck masterlist (nct)

mafia-nct masterlist (nct)

Got Stars in My Eyes - haechan

otptings masterlist (nct, enhypen)

huangels masterlist (nct)

99liners masterlist (nct)

cuteyongs masterlist (nct)

astroyongie masterlist (nct)

[8:02pm] - haechan

in which a spontaneous dance in the kitchen with donghyuck sparks a revelation about how you feel about him.

Scenario — 00 line (dream) reaction to their partner giving them head while they play a game

yunopouts masterlist (nct)

nct dream playing the chapstick challenge

NCT Dream + Sungtaro reaction: their S/O is ticklish

[5 : 18] Yandere!Mark Lee

@flameravn

『 ‎ ‎Ƕąҽçհąղ / ϚէąӀҟҽɾ 』

Haechan breaks into your house, sexual fantasies.

Yandere!Haechan The Sun

NCT Drabbles Mini Masterlist Part 4 (yandere)

﹟♡ ·  ⁺ yandere!NCT DREAM﹕ how they met their s/o.

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER

bluejaem-recs (nct fic recs)

beware the panty perv ♡ ldh x reader

there’s a mystery at hand! it seems like your panties have been vanishing into thin air whenever you need them most? angry that your favorite pairs of panties are going missing, you decide to put on your detective hat in hopes of finding the mysterious lingerie bandit. but between all of the guys that you sleep with— you can’t seem to pinpoint who the culprit could be. it couldn’t possibly be your absolute geek of a tutor for calculus, right? nah.

pussy fiend (l.dh)

3raaaachachacha masterlist (nct,txt,enhypen)

waking you up with sex － nct dream

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA - jisung, haechan

upon accidentally finding a video of you and your boyfriend haechan doing some very sexual things, jisung knows that he shouldn’t watch it. he knows that it would be an extreme invasion of privacy, but he’s unable to control himself when he sees the thumbnail. so he settles for only watching 30 seconds. except, 30 seconds turns into 30 minutes, and by then he’s buried himself too deep into a life-changing situation—or in which jisung’s terrible at keeping secrets.

jeontaeil masterlist (nct)

𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

after spending some time scrolling on tik tok, you came across a cute couple’s prank video and decided to use it on your partner to see his reaction.

saying “its hot in here” and then undressing in front of my bf - haechan

Haechan + blindfold

september 19. - haechan

Inseparable - Slight Yandere!Haechan X Reader

Haechan Fic Recs

Nct Fic Recs || All fics

— a few perv!jisung thoughts &lt;3

nct drabbles masterlist

NCT DREAM + SIMPLE ACTS OF LOVE ! 

Warm You Up - haechan

SURE THING (L.DH)

young gods (l.dh)

in the midst of committing felonies in the dark, lee donghyuck—your literal partner in crime and ride or die for life—manages to snag your heart in the process without you even realizing it. i mean, what the hell did you expect from seoul city’s most notorious robber?

tooth-rotting love - haechan

[7:43am] - haechan

[7:07 pm] - haechan

three’s a crowd [m] - haechan, jeno

maybe you can have your cake and eat it too, although your friends certainly don’t make it easy.

haechan obsessed with you

bf!haechan x (f) reader — bondage, masturbation (m)

dry humping - jisung

[11:42 PM] - jisung

the right one. (m) - haechan

donghyuck doesn’t like you going on dates with anyone else, especially lee jeno. you’re supposed to be his. and only his.

Haechan As A Boyfriend

𝐍𝐂𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 + 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

nct dream as couple things (that make other people feel sick to their stomachs)

thigh riding with dom jisung

[11:27 PM] - jisung i.l.y. (pt 2)

hyuck drabble (m)

𝐍𝐂𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 :: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

NCT 00 LINE REACTION TO YOU WALKING UP TO THEM NAKED !

NCT 00 LINE + FINDING OUT THEIR S/O IS INTO SOMNOPHILIA !

When They Get Overprotective Of You ~ NCT Dream Reaction

NCT 00 LINE REACTION TO THEIR S/O MAKING THE FIRST MOVE !

Hey baby! You are hotter than Apollo at dawn - haechan

°✵.｡.✰ 𝕟𝕔𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 ✰.｡.✵° - chenle-dressed-in-black

[jerzwriter]

A Little Holiday Cheer

Happy Holidays!

@lilyoffandoms had no idea what they were creating when they wrote a tiny drabble about these three sets of loons. Since then, Lily, Dani (@storyofmychoices), and I have expanded on their hijinx, and it just gets more fun with time. I asked the lovely, talented, and all-around amazing @/artbyainna (IG) to create this commemoration not only of the friendship between Ethan, Merida, Bryce, Olivia, Casey & Tobias but, more importantly, the friendship between us! 😊 As always, she MORE than delivered! I hope this brings you a little smile.

Book: Open Heart Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Merida (@lilyoffandoms), Bryce Lahela x Olivia (@storyofmychoices), and Tobias Carrick x Casey (mine!) Rating: Teen Words: 825 Summary: It all started at Ethan & Merida's place, so it's only fitting that we go back there again!

There was something about this time of year... even the mundane seemed to morph into magic, and tonight's gathering of friends was no exception. While the robust aroma of lasagna competed with the sweet scent of sugar cookies baking in the second oven, neither managed to diffuse the fragrant pine from the Christmas tree. Music served only as a background to the laughter and lively chatter, but while Bryce and Olivia were too engaged in the conversation.. and each other... to notice the music shift from soulful renditions of holiday standards back to melodic strings and woodwinds, Merida didn’t miss a beat. Resplendent in her holiday attire, she halted slicing provolone for the charcuterie board long enough to shoot Ethan a menacing glare. 

“Ethan Jonah Ramsey, so help me God! If you turn Stevie off to put The Nutcracker back on one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions!”

“I’d be careful,” Bryce advised. “She is holding an exceptionally large knife.”

Ethan started to open his mouth, then thought better of it. With a quick flick of the wrist, “That’s What Christmas Means to Me My Love” blared through the air once more.

“What did it?” Olivia teased. “Knowing you were outnumbered, or the large knife?”

Ethan leaned against the counter, popped a piece of chorizo in his mouth, and shrugged. “It’s the season of goodwill. Let's go with that.” His half-smile quickly retreated when Merida slapped his hand.

“There will be no goodwill in this house if you keep sneaking food! You have to wait until all of our guests arrive.”

A sigh tinged with frustration escaped him. “I fail to see why we all need to starve because Carrick is late... again.”

“Technically, he’s not late,” Olivia advised.

“She’s right,” Merida agreed. “It’s only seven-fifty, and dinner starts at eight. They have ten minutes before we can declare them late.”  

Ethan turned to her with astonishment. “But I was there when you told him to be here at seven!”

“Yes,” Merida said matter-of-factly. “I told him that to ensure they’d be here by eight.”

“But since it's Tobias and Casey we're talking about,” Bryce interjected. “You probably should have told them six."

"True," Olivia nodded, biting into a fluffy cheese puff. “Knowing Casey, she’ll want to redo her hair and makeup.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows in disbelief as Merida smiled. “What?” she asked.

“Olivia is eating a cheese puff and not an ounce of chastisement from you... but I sneak a sliver of sausage, and you considered dismemberment!”

“Ethan...Olivia is a guest! Besides, she’s too cute to dismember.”

The doorbell rang, and the friends looked at their phones at 7:58 PM.

“Wow! They’re early!” Bryce exclaimed. “And they say Christmas miracles are a thing of the past!”

“Great,” Merida laughed as she wiped her hands with a dish towel. “That means they probably didn’t get it all out of their systems, and they’ll be horny on main all night.”  

“And that would be different from every other time... how?” Bryce laughed. 

Merida scurried down the hallway, high heels clicking, but her irritated boyfriend beat her to the door, swinging it open to find Tobias planting kisses on a giggling Casey’s neck.

“Do you two ever stop?”

“What?” Tobias protested with a sheepish grin. “We weren’t doing anything. We were just stuck in....”

“TRAFFIC!” The four friends shouted.

“That is what they call it these days,” Olivia winked, all too proud of herself.  "Aren't they?"

“Hey! You can’t blame us,” Casey said, tossing her fuzzy coat over Ethan’s unextended arm. “Boston is just filled with traffic!”

“Mmmhmmm,” Merida greeted her friend with a warm embrace. “And you two are always without GPS.”

“That’s right,” Casey smiled. “We prefer to go by... feel.”

“Can we send them home now?” Ethan groaned.

But Merida and Casey were already halfway down the hall, linked arm-in-arm and giggling like schoolgirls. Ethan jumped when Tobias’s hand landed on his shoulder with a thud.

“You were saying, buddy?”

Running a hand down his face, Ethan surrendered. “Olivia is right. I’m outnumbered.”

Moments later, the couples were assembled around the kitchen table, with wine generously poured. Ethan happily partook in cured meats as he endured one too many jokes about salami from his best-freinemy.

“Tobias, I swear, you never escaped adolescence.”

“Was that something we were supposed to escape?”

Bryce raised his glass with a smile. “Only during working hours!”

“And these are not working hours,” Merida gleefully stated. “A toast... to friends, who have become family.”

“And by family, she means you’re inescapable!” Ethan grinned.

“Just like adolescence,” Casey beamed, clinking her glass with the others.

Merida set her eyes on Ethan’s, a radiant smile on her lips. “And would you have it any other way?”

Wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her close. "No," he beamed. "Despite each of you, save Olivia, causing me more grey hairs by the moment... I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Several drinks in, you know they started teasing Tobias about his "Ho-Ho-Ho" sweater. Everyone except Olivia, who wasn't sure what they meant until Bryce whispered it in her ear. Merida and Casey quickly agreed to corrupt the poor dear much more before their New Year's Eve gathering!

Happy Holidays! :)

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanart @openheartfanfics

@choicesholidays "I'm Thankful for You"

@choicesdecember2023 Christmas

Tagging others separately.

[nyctophiliq]

Ashe x Fem reader who is a new night shift employee for the Route 66 cafe. One night she wears a skirts that’s dangerously short and one of the other men get a little handsy. Ashe is having none of it.

Nw if this becomes a Drabble I’ll be so excited to see the other one shots you make! Also Ty for doings gods work, I speak on behalf of the lesbians: we love you 🫶

✮ — SEE YOU AGAIN ; elizabeth caledonia ashe

content warning ; afab reader. sfw ! — lowercase writing intended, reader being harassed, a bit suggestive just for plot reasons but nothing too too suggestive

wc ; 1,3 k

moss’ notes ; SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG there were just not sufficient ideas to fulfill this amazing req, so moss apologizes and hopes you see this anonie :) moss loves the lesbians too 💗

you worked at the diner on Route 66, a restaurant well out in the desert but still a popular place for locals to come around and have a bite. it was lively, with all kinds of people coming to eat, most of them going there after work or even just for fun. it was a nice change from being behind the register, where everything always smelled like food. it wasn’t your job to serve everyone, only take orders and deliver food when asked. it wasn’t easy, either, so the hours were long, which usually meant you didn’t get much sleep. your shift ended at 7 pm sharp, though, so you had plenty of time left before you would have to lock up and head home for some rest. you had spent a lot of sleepless nights lately, not sleeping because every time you closed your eyes you saw 

"hey, waitress- a coffee refill, pronto!" one of the savages shouted before turning back to his friends and laughing loudly, sharing snarky comments about you. there was not much you could do but pick up the coffee pot from behind the counter and walk to their table.

"anything else I can do for you, boys?" you gave them your best smile, taking a small, subtle step back to put some distance between you and the group. you did try, anyways. the customers never took anything seriously, but the one with the buzz cut was still staring at you. "uhm, yeah," he said, shifting slightly, putting his leg behind you to block your path, "just make sure my buddy here gets that coffee without spilling any on him." he grinned stupidly, his hand reaching across the table and his fingers going for the top of your thigh.

you swallowed thickly, nodding politely before tipping the glass pot and pouring the bitter black liquid into one of their mugs. his hand was moving to wrap or pinch your thigh and you normally let them play, it's silly to think more, you go home and sleep this off, men play smart with you all the time, not like it means something anyway. you picked up on seeing people flirt, especially after a few months at the diner now. they liked you because they thought you looked cute, or maybe they felt pity for the poor girl who was constantly trying to keep up with them. you preferred to think that you actually had more personality than that. and yet it happened every other night, these men coming in and harassing a desperate reaction out of you.

"leave her alone or I will be payin' a very special kind of attention to you." a tall, white-haired woman stepped to your side and placed her hand on your shoulder. she looked older, maybe mid-thirties, but definitely a woman that knew how to handle herself in a fight. she smiled warmly, giving her gaze from under her eyelashes toward the man holding you and letting her hand slip down to your hip. you flushed pink as your face got hotter, feeling your body tense at her sudden move. this woman is so cool, she's probably the most beautiful person you have ever seen, smiling nervously back at her as she began to rub circles on your hip with her thumb. you weren't used to such attention from women, not even women you'd dated.

the man scoffed, looking at his buddies before starting to laugh his fucking ass off. "or what, lady? you gonna paint our nails red hot like yours?" all of them started to laugh and the woman just sucked her teeth before whistling. a giant omnic appeared behind her, towering over all of you.

"you gonna be dealing with bob over here, he is heavy and knows I don't like my woman to be harassed."  she smiled wickedly, her hand sliding farther up on your hip until the tips of your breasts were pressed against her chest. you blushed harder, biting your lip and closing your eyes. it was just a play, to get those gross men to stop hitting on you, nothing more, you need to calm down.

the four-man looked at each other, laughing once again before the man with the buzz cut stood up, wiping his lips and giving a cocky smile to the woman. "okay lady, we get it, but sharing is caring, no? wonder how she would function on-"

"you are messing with deadlock property, boy." she cut him off, pushing a gun to his head, finger on the trigger, ready to pull it if needed.  you flinched as you noticed holding it close, using both of your bodies to make sure no one saw the gun, or even know it was there. it made you sick thinking about it. 

the man gulped before stepping aside and heading for the door. "it's alright, no need to hold a grudge, alright? we don't want to mess with the deadlock, okay? we were just going, excuse us... let's go gang!" he screamed like a little kid and they were out on the door within a blink of an eye.  you stared after them, wide-eyed, before lowering your hand from your hip and letting out a shaky breath. the woman laughed a bit, patting your cheek gently before grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to sit on a stool at the counter, ignoring your protests. 

"this is my number, don't be afraid to use it." she told you kindly as she scribbled onto your notepad she took whenever you were still in shock. she nodded, putting the stack of papers down on the counter and turned to go on her way.

"thank you... i'm y/n!" you started off quietly, but when it came to telling you her name you almost woke the dead of the desert around you. she turned around, a gentle smile plastering on her face before she brushes a longer white strand out of her face.

"the name's ashe."  she said with a small, sweet smile. she offered her hands to shake. you hesitantly grabbed hers, her hand feeling soft in comparison to how rough and dry yours were. "you call me if you are in trouble, any kind, alright sugar?"

"can i still call you if i am not in trouble?" you asked hesitantly, your eyes now staring past her form, trying to find something to focus on rather than that charming smile she is about to let pull on her lips.   she chuckled softly, squeezing your hand and releasing it quickly when she realized she was doing so.

"sure, I'll be waiting sweetheart" she winked at you as she slipped one of her hands into her pocket, the other tipping her hat before she could finally turn on her heels, throwing a couple of dollar bills on the table she was sitting at, you assume, and she left the diner with her friend named bob. 

your eyes sparkled as your fingers clutched the piece of paper now inside your apron's pocket, heart fluttering at the thought of seeing ashe again. you weren't even sure what you were gonna say into the phone once she picks up, but you were sure that you wanted to hear her voice once again, utter something like today. my woman...  you smiled softly as you headed back to the front of the diner, shaking your head lightly to clear it. tonight did not end up as planned, but at the very end of it you weren't complaining because you got to have her number and she was waiting for your call.

[luke-o-lophus]

Ineffable Drabble for Ineffable May Day 2: Naked Man Friend

(757 words, prompts by @blairamok)

10:20 pm, Soho, 8 years after the apocalypse that wasn’t

“Look at this! This is why we never go to a bar”, Aziraphale almost whines, glaring at his own reflection on fancy sunglasses.

“So, a man slipped you his number. Big deal”, Crowley shrugs and downs the rest of his whiskey. A long hiss of satisfaction follows, earning him curious looks and more than one saucy wink. “No…Crowley, he stuffed it in my trousers! In...in my back pocket!” Aziraphale holds up the crumpled paper with his very fingertips, as if holding a dirty rag. That gets Crowley to look up.

“Repeat that for me, angel?” he takes a step forward, crowding his space. His shielded eyes momentarily look over the angel’s shorter corporation, scanning the crowd, then back to his wide eyes. Angels are supposed to sense love, but in that moment Aziraphale can almost taste the anger radiating off his demon.

“He…”, Aziraphale drops his hands and tosses the paper into a nearby bin. “My dear…can we just go?” Crowley nearly hisses out a scathing protest when he catches a faint tremor on pouting lips. “Fine”, he relents, pushing off the wall.

He follows his angel, making a beeline for the exit, as the sea of drunk people miraculously part before them. But he may have glanced a bit too long at a particular part of Aziraphale’s corporation, and the moment of distraction is enough for someone to breach the containment of his demonic miracle. A tall, blonde guy stops the angel in his tracks.

“I saw you throw away my number”, his tone is icy. “That was a mistake.” He then seems to notice Crowley and gives him a once over, “Could’ve just said you want your guard dog in it too. Could’ve fucked you both, you know.” Crowley’s eyes narrow behind the shades, but he knows not to react unless Aziraphale indicates he wants him to step in. Wait…was he a guard dog?

“Now there really is no need for that, and I am truly not interested”, Aziraphale is polite but firm, chin tilted up in quiet determination.

“They all say that, darling, but once they…”, the man’s hand reaches up towards his collar. But neither his sentence nor his arm have the chance to reach their destination. In a speed higher than perceptible to the human eye, Crowley’s hand had shot forward and grabbed his wrist before it could reach Aziraphale.

“You’re not his type, blondie,” Crowley’s voice is cool, his hold just strong enough to restrict without hurting. “You should go.” The man’s eyes are wide in disbelief, but when Crowley lets go he abruptly turns and disappears into the crowd. Whether it was another miracle or sheer fear, Aziraphale didn’t know. He clears his throat, trying and failing to offer an awkward smile at all the eyes on them. He feels a touch on his arm, a touch he knew well enough to not jerk away from even in this situation. “Come on, angel”, said Crowley in a voice that’s usually never heard outside the bookshop.

Half an hour later, there’s a wine bottle open between an ethereal and an occult being. Few words have been spoken. Crowley’s glasses are uncharacteristically on. From the experience of the last eight years, more so than the six thousand before them, Aziraphale knows there’s some guilt being drunk away across the table. He tries to say it wasn’t that big a deal, or that he doesn’t blame Crowley for convincing him to try out a bar. In the end he settles on, “That was very nice of you.”

Crowley’s mouth opens to just make some unintelligible noises, and the angel can’t help the warmth rising in his chest. So he pushes with a cheeky smile, “Whatever did you mean he wasn’t my type? Sounded like you do know what that is.”

Crowley’s brows shoot up over the top of his glasses, and he carelessly takes them off. “Oh yes angel”, he hisses with no real venom in his voice. “I recall you had a visitor some years ago, no? The street couldn’t shut up about your naked man friend. Tall, dark hair, no humanlike genitalia – yeah, the works”

Aziraphale gasps in mock indignation, hand to his chest, “I’ll have you know that’s but a filthy rumour! Well, the last two at least”

Crowley wishes his immediate choking on wine was also mock. But how can he complain much when that gets his angel to rush over and rub his back till he’s better?

Read: Next (bookshop) Prev (Before the Beginning)

[queenmimi2817]

Happy Halloween!

I wrote a little drabble to ship with my OC. The complete sweetheart thanks to the OP Discord.

Dedicated to @frillsinadress @loganwritesprobably and @fanaticsnail for helping me make Blythe the saddest and the happiest OC I have!

Blythe x GN!Reader

Crushing on a coworker seemed like a fine idea until you remembered the coworker was ranked above you and physically towered over you. Commodore Myers was an exceptional marine if you ignored all of the rules she broke. Not arresting pirates, and more; her reputation meant she was seen as a saint to some and a devil to others.

After so many long nights working through paperwork, and intimate conversations, you had fallen for the woman. But some of the anxiety bubbled under the surface. She was your supervisor. And yet, whenever she bent down to whisper a poor joke in your heart or giggled after picking you up for a hug, it felt right to be so close.

Workplace relations be damned, you had to tell her. After all, you only have one life, which you should not regret.

You walked into her office, knowing she was there because she was rarely anywhere else at 9 pm on a Friday. She was the image of a professional. Not a spec of dirt on her uniform, and her desk papers were all straightened and neat, marked with various links and words. Testing on the edge of her nose were white reading glasses, ones that framed her eyes and peeked out from her messy bangs

She hummed, her eyes flickering up to glance over her reading glasses at you.

“You should be resting.” She slipped her glasses off and folded them, “Come to snitch on the Captain for cussing a Rear Admiral out again?”

“No, it’s…a bit more of a personal matter.” You said, feeling the nervous tension become exponential as she stood up and walked in front of her desk, sitting back and leaning over to attempt to be at eye level; as much as she can be with being just over 9 feet tall.

“Do you need to talk about something? Is it health, physical or mental? Do you want me to approve an extended leave? Find a professional?” Blythe questioned, immediately wanting to provide any assistance she could.

“I appreciate the support,but it’s not that, " you said, trying to work up the courage to just say it, to build the bridge and get to the point.

She tilted her head to the right, “Is this a romantic issue? Because I support you: whether it’s a man, woman, or the one in between that I don’t understand much about but fully respect.”

“Commodore Myers Blythe, I think I’m in love with you.”

Blythe stood there blinking, clearly expecting anything else. “…..Me? The same Commodore you saw fall off her own ship?”

You shook your head, “No. The Blythe who cares for everyone. The you that I’ve come to know. The one who sticks up for everything, not just some rule book, and I know it’s stupid: maybe this crush is a simple infatuation but I'm in love with you! Everything about you has consumed me and it's like being around-“

“I love you.” Blythe whispered, almost trying to hide the words, “I…assumed you didn’t feel the same.”

“Who wouldn’t love you?”

“The Fleet Admiral, some pirates, a few more higher-up marines, Vice Admiral Alory-“

“Blythe!” You groaned, before hearing her burst out laughing. The same one heard every once in a while, the one where her eyes squint and she looks genuinely happy.

She wiped her eyes, “You’ll have to be patient. It’s been a very long time since I was in….I can’t remember if I’ve been in a relationship.” She smiled at you, “But I suppose this means I can kiss you.”

“I guess so…” Words died on your lips as Blythe slowly approached, a mischievous smile growing on her lips, causing you to back up into the wall. “Wait, you’re actually going to kiss me?”

Blythe leaned down, her warm breath hitting your lips, sliding her hand down the wall behind you as she gently cupped your chin with her other hand. The touching shocked you as static had collected upon the soft material.

“Tell me no and I'll stop. If the huge gap in ranks bothers you, I want to respect that. If this is too forward and moving too fast, tell me. I need a clear answer, no maybes.”

“Always so professional.”

Blythe huffed a laugh and leaned in, a hair’s width away. “Then tell me Ensign, do I have permission to kiss you?”

“Why yes, Commodore.”

[ocsoficeandfire]

Lady Galyne Borrell

Status: Free!

I've used her in a small fic before, but I didn't like where it was going so I deleted it. Galyne grew on me, though, so I would love to see someone using her for their own imagine / fic / drabble <3 Send me a PM, an ask or reblog if you are interested in using her for a story :)

Divider by @anlian-aishang

Lady Galyne Borrell of Sweetsister

House: Borrell

Region: The Vale

Parents: Father Waylar Borrell (dead), Mother Sanda Longthorpe. No siblings, but has living male Borrell cousins.

Time: Can be used for every era. During the Dance of the Dragons, Jacaerys Velaryon got the Borrell's support for House Black. The Borell's overlords - the Sunderlands - got them involved into the Blackfyre Rebellions. Ned Stark sailed from Sweetsister to White Harbor. Ser Davos Seaworth is left on Sweetsister in ASOIAF.

Age: 19

Religion: Faith of the Seven

Marital Status: Single

Spice level: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🖤🖤

Personality: Galyne is relatively quiet and modest. She usually bites back most remarks and even though she is not well-versed in courtly life, she can adapt very well through her stoic attitude. She is a fast learner and even though she tends to be quite distant and even ruthless when the situation escalates, she is generally a pious, well-meaning young woman. She is very proud of her heritage and will defend it to great lengths.

Physical Appearance: She is described by others as 'plain and awfully average'. She's chubby, of average height and has green eyes. Galyne has remarkably long, wavy mouse-brown hair, which she takes great pride in. She is relatively pale, has ruddy cheeks and a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Special quirks: She tends to embroider the Borrell crab on every dress she wears. Because she is a Borell, she has 'the mark' - a sort of webbing between her three middle fingers.

Face Claim: None

Moodboard prompts: Dark Sea, Sea Storms, Irish coast, siren aesthetic.

[zaevauhm]

Rain Drabble

you’re an f1 driver, partnered up with lewis, a crash happens that brings you close to your biggest rival

word count 1.5k

mentions of accidents + sex

sidenote: this was a dream I had a year ago, and my friend asked me to write it all out ahhahshs,

i am not a max fan (dont necessarily dislike him either) but yeah, enjoy my loves

Rain. Lots of it was pouring down, straight into the Red Bull Ring. Completely zoned out, you watched it pour down the windows, as the last fans with worried expressions on their faces were making their way out of the circuit. You were sitting in a conference room, Lewis to your left and Max to your right. Christian and Toto fighting each other right in front of you. What were they even yelling so hard for? And why couldn’t you stay with the medics for a little longer, again? It felt like your head was slowly being ripped from your body. The pain was starting to kick in badly, as the adrenaline wore off. Still, it felt like you would pass out any minute by now. It was so hard to keep your eyes open.

There had been an accident, either Max or Lewis, your teammate, had squeezed you into the wall at a certain point, without a thing you could have done about it. Numb and frozen in those milliseconds, you allowed the car to fly into the wall at 250 km/h, you in it.

Toto was furious, banging the table in front of you, having Lewis trying to calm him down. ‘’This is completely unacceptable! It is obvious that your boy is the one who caused it, Christian, just look at the fucking footage!’’ He ranted and ranted. You noticed an apologetic Max opening his mouth, before immediately being shut down by his team principal, with nothing more than a face that screamed thunder. ‘’That nearly fucking killed my driver, Christian. Measures need to be taken. It can’t go on like this. I can’t send her out again, risking her life in every lap just because your boy doesn’t know how to keep his distance.’’

It felt as if the meeting took hours, your pains only increasing. Lewis gestured for you to lean against him, but it was the last thing that you wanted. Your on-off relationship with your teammate was something you’d rather forget about, completely. He wanted to keep you a secret, so be it. As you stared back out of the windows, you noticed that Max caught your eyes. You stared him dead in the eyes, for a moment before he whispered to you softly. ‘’I’m really sorry.’’

‘’I know.’’ You gestured, beneath your breath.

Lewis noticed, as he was watching your every movement. He leaned back in his chair, obviously displeased by the fact that there was any communication between you and your rival. You couldn’t care less about his feelings at this point.

Finally, several hours later, you were released of everything. You had showered, changed, and took some more pain killers. It was nighttime by now, the circuit dimmed. Most drivers were inside of their motorhomes, resting or still having brief conversations.

You walked by yourself, keeping your eyes on the ground, holding a water bottle under your right arm, squeezing it against your ribs, as well as your medical files. You were feeling completely drained, tired, wanting nothing more than to lay your head down and sleep for days. The soreness in your back and neck was almost unbearable. You took your phone out, 11:39 PM. 8 Missed calls, Lewis. You locked your phone again and put it back in the back pocket of your jeans.

You got interrupted from your thoughts as someone bumped into you, quite roughly. ‘’Watch where you’re going you piece of…’’ You couldn’t finish your sentence as you noticed who was in front of you. Broad shoulders, a bit taller than you, piercing blue eyes staring you down. Max.

‘’You pushing me into the wall just doesn’t do it for you, huh? You had to make sure to knock me over here as well.’’ Your tone dead serious, although you didn’t mean to come across as angry, not necessarily. It was too late anyway, and frankly, he deserved it.

‘’I thought you weren’t mad at me anymore.’’

You raised one eyebrow at the Red Bull driver, utterly confused. ‘’Just watch where you’re going next time, you might actually keep us alive.’’ You spilled, before walking off towards your motorhome.

‘’Y/N.’’ A voice echoed right behind you, as you walked up the stairs, about to enter through the front door. It was almost completely dark at this part of the circuit. Without a single soul in sight, the familiar voice startled you. ‘’What do you want from me?’’ You looked over your shoulder, down at him.

You had never actually spoken to him, nor did he ever linger in your mind. You didn’t know him at all, why was he suddenly following you around? He had already apologized, after all.

‘’May I?’’ He asked, waiting for your permission to follow you up the stairs. You nodded, still zoned out, as he slowly walked towards you, before standing awfully close in front of you. Was he trying to intimidate you? If so, it was slightly working.

‘’I wanted to apologize.’’

‘’You already have, Max. It’s fine.’’ You tried to shake him, but he wouldn’t have it.

‘’Properly.’’

Your eyes widened, as you knew exactly what he meant. Was he being serious?

He took all of your stuff out of your hands and placed it on the table next to your door.

Slowly, he made his way back towards you. Step by step, you stepped back until your back was leaning against the glass window of your motorhome. His breath was awfully close to your neck now, sending shivers down your back. What was it about him?

You gasped when you felt his lips touch your bare neck, as if you hadn’t been touched for years. He took his head back, examining you, smiling at you devilishly. He was everything Lewis wasn’t. The polar opposite, in fact. Maybe that was it? Maybe you longed for something different, after years of being with Lewis in secret. Well, he was willing to give it to you.

He allowed himself to come close to you again. ‘’Does that feel good?’’ He whispers onto your lips, making you smile a little. ‘’Yes.’’ You just noticed how big he was in comparison to yourself, his body was blocking any view you had before by now.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer onto him, gently squeezing you in the process. He slowly made his way to your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he went down, before releasing you from your jeans, your phone falling down with it. He looked up at you, asking for permission again before pressing soft kisses onto your thighs. His eyes sparkled something in you, that left you wanting him to do with you as he pleased.

He continued kissing your thighs, before gently pulling your string to the side, leaving you filled with anticipation. You were surprised to learn that he actually knew what he was doing. You felt his tongue drawing circles around your entrance, soft moans leaving your mouth as your hands were clinging to the glass behind you. Did you just hear something move inside of your home? He lifted his head up a little, licking you from entrance to top, making your legs weak. Suddenly, he got up, roughly turning you around and pushing your face onto the glass, pulling your arms behind you. You gasped. ‘’So this is what it’s like to be Hamilton.’’ His voice was filled with anger. You gasped within yourself. The fact that he knew, somehow, was something that couldn’t bother you at that moment. You wanted more. He entered you with two of his fingers, deeply, making you curve your ass up towards him. You moaned, leaning your head back against his shoulder. ‘’This is what he gets to taste, huh?’’ He whispered into your neck, making you even weaker. He stopped his movements, forcing you to answer him. ‘’Tell me.’’

‘’Yes.’’ You moaned, shyly. For sure your cheeks were bright red by now. The mixture of pleasure with the amount of pain killers and medication the medics had pumped you full of, left you in a strange, unknown state of mind. You loved being touched by him, somebody other than Lewis. He shook you from your thoughts as he sped up, getting you close to the point of orgasming right there. Your phone was staring right at you, lingering on the floor, as Lewis’ caller ID was shown on the screen. It just made you feel shyer than ever, the fact that two men wanted you more than anything, at the same time. And which men… They hated eachothers’ guts. ‘’Are you going to listen to me?’’ His voice filled the atmosphere around you. You nodded, slowly. ‘’I want to see you cum.’’ He whispered as you saw him looking down in the reflection, to your phone. You did, Max holding you firmly, feeling how weak he had gotten you. It felt as if you got your senses back, right there in that moment, leaving you confused and wanting to run. ‘’I’m sorry, I have to go inside.’’ You stumbled, as he grabbed you by your arms, making you face him. ‘’It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to make you feel good. Also, no one is hearing about this.’’

‘’Okay.’’ You trusted him.

You opened your door; Max still right behind you, as your breath got stuck into your throat, almost bumping back onto him as you saw who was staring you down from behind the glass. Lewis.