#but like I can’t get this concept out of my head

[haerenven]

Pairings. M.D.Luffy - R.Zoro - V.Sanji - Nami - N.Robin - Shanks

summary. Them with curly headed reader

— (a/n): consider this a gift for my gorgeous curly girlies ₍^. .^₎⟆

MONKEY D LUFFY

- Endless Fascination with Your Curls

Luffy is obsessed with your hair—not in a poetic, admiring-from-afar kind of way, but in the most Luffy way possible. He tugs at your curls just to watch them bounce back, sometimes even poking them with a finger like he’s testing if they have a mind of their own. “Whoa… they’re like little springs!” he exclaims every time, as if he’s just discovered it all over again. And if you ever get annoyed? He just laughs, completely unbothered, and does it again.

- Zero Concept of Personal Space

If he’s tired? Your curls make the perfect pillow. If he’s hungry? He’ll lean against you, idly playing with a strand while thinking about meat. If he’s excited? He’ll grab you, spin you around, andsomehow get his fingers tangled in your hair in the process. Luffy doesn’t care about boundaries—he’s always close, always touching, always acting like he has every right to be tangled up with you, just like your curls are with each other.

- Unfiltered, Genuine Compliments

Luffy doesn’t have a poetic bone in his body, but when he compliments you, it’s so real that it sticks with you forever. “Your hair looks like a whole adventure!” he grins one day, staring at the wild way it moves. “Like if I followed every curl, I’d find treasure at the end!” It’s ridiculous, but he says it with so much excitement—so much Luffy-ness—that you can’t help but smile.

- Doesn’t Understand Hair Struggles but Tries Anyway

If you’re ever frustrated with your hair—too tangled, too frizzy, too much—Luffy doesn’t get it, but that won’t stop him from trying to help. “Just leave it like that!” he suggests with a grin, fully convinced that you look amazing no matter what. And if you insist on fixing it, he offers solutions that make no sense. “What if we dunk your head in the ocean and see what happens?” (Spoiler: Bad idea.)

- The Ultimate Protector—Even Against the Wind

Luffy doesn’t care much about the wind messing up his hair, but when it comes to you? Oh, he takes it personally. If a strong gust blows your curls into your face, he immediately stretches his arm out like a shield, standing in front of you with a dramatic stance. “I GOTCHA!” he shouts, as if he’s just saved you from mortal danger. It’s completely unnecessary, but he’s so proud of himself that you just let him have his moment.

- Plays with Your Hair Absentmindedly

Whenever he’s deep in thought—rare as that may be—his fingers somehow find their way to your hair. He absentmindedly twirls a curl around his finger, stretching it slightly just to watch it spring back. He’ll braid random sections (terribly), tie tiny knots (that you definitely have to untangle later), and sometimes just hold a curl in front of his face, squinting at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

- Unapologetic About His Preferences

One time, Nami tries to brush your hair out into loose waves, and Luffy immediately pouts. “Nooooo, put it back!” he whines, reaching over to mess it up again. “I like it all poofy and crazy!” He doesn’t care about what’s fashionable—he just loves you, exactly the way you are.

- Loves How Your Hair Feels Against Him

If you ever rest against his chest, he immediately buries his face in your hair, rubbing his cheek against it like a cat. “It’s so soft!” he laughs, nuzzling into you without shame. If you try to push him away, he just stretches his arms to pull you right back. “Nope! I live here now!”

- A Love That’s Loud and Unshakable

Luffy doesn’t do subtle. If he loves you, everyone knows it. He shouts your name across islands, tackles you into hugs that leave you breathless, and brags to strangers about how cool your hair is like it’s his greatest discovery. And when it’s just the two of you, when the sea is quiet and the stars stretch endless above you, he tugs at a curl, grinning softly. “I dunno,” he murmurs, his voice softer than usual. “I just think everything about you is perfect.”

RORONOA ZORO

- Absorbed in the Movement of Your Curls

Zoro is not a man prone to idleness, but when it comes to you, he finds himself drawn to the subtle movement of your curls, as if they’re the sea itself—wild and free. In those quiet moments, as the crew rests, he may sit next to you, his hands absentmindedly finding a strand of hair to twist between his fingers. His touch is unthinking, almost a part of the background, but there’s a quiet fascination in the way he does it—his rough fingertips tracing each curl’s path, not because he’s trying to tame it, but because he finds it impossibly captivating. If you tease him about it, he’ll turn away, muttering under his breath with the same gruffness he’s known for. “It’s just… bouncy,” he’ll say, though the pink in his ears tells a different story.

- A Shield Against the Wind

Zoro observes, always quietly aware of his surroundings, and he notices how your curls seem to fight against the wind, their natural beauty battling the elements. While others may not notice, he does. When the wind picks up, he’ll subtly shift his position, always placing himself between you and the gusts, blocking the worst of it with his broad frame. If you ask him why, he’ll scoff, “You could move, y’know,” but his stance remains unchanged. It’s his way of silently protecting you—and your curls—from the chaos outside.

- Comfort in the Aftermath

After a fierce battle, when the adrenaline that had once sharpened his senses fades into a quiet exhaustion, Zoro finds solace in your presence. He doesn’t need to say much—his actions speak for him. With a quiet breath, he’ll reach for you, running his fingers through your curls, feeling the softness of each strand as his hand tangles within them. It’s not about comfort; it’s about grounding himself, reminding himself that you’re still there, still safe. In those moments, his touch lingers just a second longer than necessary, and though his eyes may not meet yours, the weight of his affection is undeniable.

- Uncomplicated Praise, Deeply Felt

Zoro is blunt, his words seldom adorned with the sweetness others might offer. But when he compliments you, it’s grounded in truth, uncomplicated yet deeply sincere. When you’re struggling with the tangled chaos of your curls, his gaze will lift to you, and with a grunt, he’ll say, “Looks fine to me. Don’t change it.” It’s not flowery, but it’s Zoro in its purest form—honest, no frills. On rare occasions when you take care more of your hair and styling it, his eyes might linger a moment too long, before he clears his throat and mutters, “You look… good.” Simple words, yet they carry the weight of his admiration.

- The Battle of Haircare

When you mention needing new hair products, Zoro’s mind immediately shifts into a mode of confusion. He’s never thought about something as trivial as shampoo, but his love for you has him trying—if only to see you smile. In the aisles of an unfamiliar island store, he glares at the endless bottles, trying to make sense of them. “What the hell is ‘hydrating curl cream’ supposed to do?” he mutters, but when you ask him to help detangle your hair, he takes the task more seriously than anything else. His brows furrow in concentration, fingers working through the knots with an intensity only rivaled by his swordsmanship. Each strand is handled with an unexpected patience, proving that even in the smallest things, Zoro will always give his all.

- A Silent Protector

Zoro’s way of protecting you isn’t flashy or showy. He doesn’t need to make a spectacle of it. But when your curls are threatened—by the wind, by the crowd, by something as simple as an ill-timed brush of someone’s hand—he steps in without hesitation. With a firm but gentle hand, he pulls you closer to his side, shielding your hair from harm, acting as if it’s no more than a casual motion. If someone dares to touch your curls without permission, his gaze is enough to make them rethink their actions, his glare sharp enough to cut through any pretense.

- Loyalty Shown in the Quiet Moments

Zoro’s love for you is shown in the quietest, most sincere ways. If you run out of your favorite hair product, he’s the one to notice, somehow keeping track of the small details that others might overlook. One evening, he’ll appear beside you with a new bottle of your favorite oil, placing it gently in your hands as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. If you’ve had a long day and your curls are more unruly than usual, Zoro will offer a gruff, “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.” The way he works through your hair is slow and deliberate, as if he’s taking the time to tend to something precious. It’s not about the task—it’s about the way he quietly shows you that, no matter the day or the chaos, he’s there for you, always.

VINSMOKE SANJI

- Adoration in Every Strand

Sanji’s fascination with your curls borders on obsession. The moment you walk into the kitchen or sit down at the table, he can’t help but be drawn to the way your hair naturally moves, the way it defies gravity, as if each curl is a work of art in itself. “Mademoiselle,” he’ll sigh dreamily, gazing at you with the adoration of a man utterly enchanted. “Your hair… it’s like a perfect symphony of elegance and chaos—so wild, so effortlessly beautiful.” He could spend hours simply staring, but when he’s around, you’ll always feel like the most stunning creature to ever exist.

- The Art of Curly Hair Care

Sanji may be a chef, but when it comes to your hair, he becomes a meticulous artist. He knows exactly how to make it shine, how to take care of it with tender touches, and he’s the only one you trust to give you the perfect trim. Whenever you ask for help with it, he responds with complete seriousness. “Of course, darling, it’s my honor to ensure your curls remain as perfect as they deserve to be.” His hands are always gentle but firm, his focus intense as he works on keeping your hair looking its best.

- Flirty Comments with a Side of Gentle Touch

His flirting knows no bounds, but with you, it always feels different—genuine, tender. If you catch him staring at your hair, he doesn’t even try to hide it. “How do you make your curls look so good?” he’ll ask, his voice thick with admiration, leaning in as if he’s trying to discover the secret. “Are you sure they’re just hair, or do they have a mind of their own?” he’ll muse, his gaze so intense it feels like he’s searching for the very meaning of life in your locks.

- Curly Hair, Perfect Partner

Sanji’s love for you goes beyond superficialities, but the way your hair frames your face? He can’t help but be captivated every time. You’re a vision—whether it’s in the kitchen, surrounded by the smell of his best dishes, or on the deck under the golden sun, your hair always perfectly wild and untamed. “How did I get so lucky?” he’ll whisper to himself, caught in a moment where everything seems to revolve around you. “My perfect, beautiful mademoiselle…”

- The Hair-Ruffling Ritual

On rare, quiet moments, when you’re sitting together or sharing a peaceful moment, Sanji has this little ritual. He’ll reach over, carefully running his fingers through your curls, smoothing them down as if it’s his responsibility to protect them. When he does this, there’s always a soft, affectionate smile on his lips, as if he’s savoring a secret joy no one else gets to see. “I swear,” he’ll say with a soft chuckle, “if I could, I’d make sure every curl stayed as perfect as the first time I saw it.”

- Teasing with Adoration

Even in his playful teasing, Sanji’s love for you is clear. If your curls are a little out of place, he’ll make a show of dramatically fixing them, acting as if it’s a matter of utmost importance. “There’s no way I can allow such disarray on my lovely lady,” he’ll say with a smirk, his fingers carefully tucking a curl behind your ear. You know he’s teasing, but the care with which he does it shows just how much he values you.

- A Man Who Wants to Spoil You

He doesn’t just want to cook for you—he wants to pamper you. He’ll surprise you with special oils, conditioners, or hair accessories that he swears will make your curls even more radiant. “Only the best for my queen,” he’ll proclaim as he carefully places a luxurious bottle of hair serum in your hands. “A woman as beautiful as you deserves the world, including perfect curls.”

- In Private, He’s Your Rock

When it’s just the two of you, away from the prying eyes of the crew, Sanji’s admiration for you feels like a soft, steady thing. In moments of quiet, when you’re lying in his arms after a long day, he’ll press gentle kisses to the top of your head, letting his lips linger just long enough to enjoy the feeling of your curls against his face. “You know…” he’ll say softly, “I’d protect every single curl on your head if it meant keeping you safe.”

CAT BURGLAR NAMI

- Strategic Observations of Your Hair

Nami is always keenly aware of your curls, though she rarely shows it. She’s more practical than emotional, so she admires the way your hair moves with the wind or the humidity with the same precision she’d use to study a map. “so gorgeous,” she’ll say, a faint smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth as she watches a few stubborn strands fight against the breeze. You can see that spark in her eyes—Nami loves a challenge, and your curls are one she enjoys mastering in subtle ways.

- Curly Hair Care Expert (Without the Compliments)

Nami isn’t one to shower you with over-the-top compliments about your hair—she’ll leave that to others like Sanji. Instead, she’ll approach your curls with the same pragmatism she applies to everything in her life. She’ll be the first one to suggest a new hair product when your curls are looking frizzy, her voice casual as if she’s offering you an extra map for your travels. “Try this—works wonders with humidity. Trust me, I’ve tested it.”

- The Subtle Tease

Nami loves to tease you, and your curly hair is a prime target. “It must take you forever to untangle that mess in the morning,” she’ll comment with a smirk, clearly enjoying the light-hearted jab. But when she says this, you know there’s affection behind the teasing—Nami isn’t mean-spirited, she’s just playful. Still, you’ll catch her grinning as she watches you attempt to fix one particularly stubborn curl.

- The Subtle Compliment (When You Least Expect It)

While she’ll never openly gush about how beautiful your curls are, she’ll show her admiration in small, subtle ways. When she notices a particularly well-placed curl or a new style you’ve tried, she’ll make a nonchalant comment. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” she’ll say while adjusting a map or focusing on something else. “That curl right there—looks good.” She’ll never go overboard, but you can hear the sincerity in her voice.

- Curly Hair, Practicalities First

Nami’s practicality takes over when it comes to your hair. She’ll often have hair ties and clips on hand, offering them to you without hesitation. If your hair starts getting in the way during a storm or a chaotic situation, she’ll hand you one with a knowing look, as if it’s just another tool to make the day go smoothly. “Trust me, it’s easier when you don’t have a ton of hair in your face while navigating through this mess.”

- Shared Moments in the Sun

On those rare, peaceful moments when the crew is relaxing on a beach or under a tree, Nami will sit beside you, eyeing your curls with a kind of fondness. She’ll reach over to lightly tuck one curl behind your ear, the touch soft, almost intimate. “Your hair’s wild,” she’ll comment with a small smile, “but in a good way. It suits you.” These little moments of connection, where Nami’s usually cool demeanor softens, are a quiet but important reminder that she values you, in every sense.

- In Private, She’s Surprisingly Gentle

When it’s just the two of you, Nami can be surprisingly tender. If she catches you adjusting your curls in frustration, she won’t let you do it alone. “Let me help,” she’ll say quietly, gently moving to fix the curls you’ve been trying to tame. You’ll feel her fingers brush your scalp, working in silence with focused care. For someone who doesn’t always show her emotions, her actions speak volumes.

- Nami’s Way of Saying “I Care”

Nami doesn’t always wear her affection on her sleeve, but when she does, it’s in these small moments with you. After a rough day, when the rest of the crew is busy or unwinding, she’ll settle beside you. Without saying much, she’ll gently adjust your curls, fixing them in a way that feels almost soothing. “You’re fine. Stop stressing,” she’ll whisper with a calm smile, her touch tender but firm, reminding you that she’s there.

NICO ROBIN

- Admiring Your Curls from a Distance

Robin, being observant as always, notices the subtle beauty in your curls, though she’s not the type to openly gush about them. When she’s deep in thought, her gaze will often drift to you, to the way your curls frame your face so perfectly, as if each strand is in its rightful place. She’s not one to speak often, but when she does, it’s always with a calm, almost meditative tone. “You have a way of making chaos look beautiful,” she’ll say, the softness in her voice making it clear that it’s more of an observation than a simple compliment.

- Gentle Touch and Care

Robin isn’t the kind of person who’s outwardly affectionate in the traditional sense, but when she does show her care, it’s in the smallest, most delicate gestures. If you’re struggling with your curls, or if the wind has made them unruly, she’ll quietly take a seat next to you, her hands moving to adjust a few strands with meticulous care. She doesn’t rush, allowing the moment to feel intimate, her touch feather-light as she smooths down a particularly stubborn curl. “There. That’s better,”she’ll say softly, her eyes lingering on you with that serene, knowing expression.

- The Quiet Compliment

Robin doesn’t give many overt compliments, but when she does, it’s always in the form of quiet, thoughtful remarks. If your curls catch her attention—perhaps when the sunlight hits them just right—she might lean in ever so slightly, her lips curving into a subtle smile. “You always seem to look the most radiant when the wind plays with your hair,” she’ll comment, her voice low, as if she’s sharing a private thought.

- Her Subtle, Intimate Observations

Robin’s way of showing admiration is to notice the things that others might overlook, the subtle movements, the small details that make you unique. She’ll watch your curls bounce as you move, and though she might not comment on them every time, there’s a certain glimmer in her eyes that lets you know she’s taken note. “Your curls have their own rhythm,” she’ll muse, her voice a soft hum as she watches them shift in the breeze.

- The Quiet Protector

Though Robin is typically reserved, when it comes to you, she’s remarkably attentive. If she notices you becoming frustrated with your curls, especially in the heat or humidity, she might offer you a calming smile, her hand gently brushing your hair out of your face. “Don’t let something so simple trouble you,” she’ll say, her voice as smooth as silk, her touch both soothing and reassuring.

- The Curiosity About Your Hair

Robin’s intellectual curiosity extends to you as well, and she’s often fascinated by the way your curls seem to have a life of their own. “It’s remarkable,” she’ll say with a quiet tone of wonder. “How do you keep your curls so full of life?” She’s genuinely interested in your haircare routine, as it represents the unique qualities of your personality that she finds so intriguing.

- A Gentle Bond in the Quiet Moments

In private moments, when the noise of the world fades away, Robin enjoys the soft serenity of your company. She might run her fingers through your curls, not in a rush but with a calm, soothing touch, as if she’s cherishing the peacefulness of the moment. “Your curls remind me of the ocean,” she’ll say, her voice almost distant as if lost in thought. “Full of mystery and depth.” It’s her way of expressing how much she values you, in her own quiet, graceful manner.

- Noticing Your Efforts Without Saying Much

Robin is keenly aware of the effort you put into your appearance, especially when it comes to your curls. She notices when you take extra care, or when you’re struggling with them. If you’re frustrated with the way they’re behaving, Robin will gently offer assistance, her tone soft but sure. “I’m sure they’ll settle. It’s just a matter of patience.” She understands the small, quiet frustrations that others might overlook, and she offers support without making a big deal of it.

- The Protective Quietness

In the rare moments when someone else dares to make a comment about your hair—either teasing you or offering unsolicited advice—Robin is quick to defend you. She’ll raise an eyebrow and speak with calm authority, her words firm but never harsh. “I don’t believe they were asking for your opinion,” she’ll say, her gaze never leaving the person who dared to intrude on your space.

- Help with Your Curls

Nico Robin’s Devil Fruit powers, the Hana Hana no Mi, allow her to sprout extra limbs from almost any surface. She’s not one to show off, but when she notices you struggling with your unruly curls—perhaps a particularly stubborn knot or frizz—she’ll use her powers in a subtle, gentle way to assist you. With a calm, focused expression, Robin will sprout delicate, flower-like hands from the back of your head or from the side of your shoulder. “I’ll help you with that,” she’ll say, her voice serene. These hands will deftly smooth through your hair, massaging out any tangles or gently pushing stray curls back into place, working with the same care and precision she’d apply to her own tasks. The hands, sprouting from places like your shoulders or even from behind you, are soft and graceful—never overbearing or intrusive, but more like a quiet offering of help, her calm presence easing away any frustration.

It’s a gesture that’s almost poetic in its execution—Robin’s powers are used not for grand battles or dramatic displays, but to ease your mind and make your hair fall just a little bit more perfectly, with a soft smile on her lips.

RED-HAIRED SHANKS

- A Love as Wild as the Sea

Shanks has spent his life chasing the horizon, but when he looks at you—when he watches the way your curls catch the sunlight, wild and untamed—he swears he’s found something even more boundless. He cups your face in his one strong hand, his thumb tracing over your cheek as he gazes at you with that easy, knowing smile. “The sea’s spent its whole life trying to move like you… and it still doesn’t come close.” he murmurs, voice dipped in quiet wonder, as if he’s found the only treasure that truly matters. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, once, twice, before giving him a look somewhere between amused and skeptical. “You always this smooth, or did the sea teach you that too?” Shanks’ grin deepens, his thumb still tracing lazy circles against your cheek. “Nah,” he muses, voice low and teasing. “The sea just taught me how to chase what’s impossible to resist.”

- His Fingers Lost in Your Curls

His hand is calloused, rough from years at sea, yet when it finds your curls, his touch is impossibly soft. He has a habit of playing with them absentmindedly—twisting a strand between his fingers while deep in thought, brushing them from your face with the backs of his knuckles. When you sit beside him on the deck, he leans in just enough to let the scent of salt and wind in your hair lull him into contentment. If you ever rest against his chest, his hand naturally moves to cradle your curls, holding you there like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

- A Sailor Who Studies the Storm

Shanks is a man who understands the sea—its tempests, its serenity, its unpredictability. And when he looks at you, at the way your curls shift with the wind, full of their own wild defiance, he understands you in the same way. He watches as they move in the ocean breeze, never trying to tame them, only admiring the way they mirror your spirit. There’s a quiet reverence in the way Shanks watches you, as if memorizing every twist and turn of your curls the same way a sailor memorizes the tides. He never tries to smooth them down, never seeks to control them—because to him, they are a perfect reflection of you. Wild. Free. Untamed by the world. When the wind picks up, pulling at your hair like the ocean reaching for the shore, he only chuckles, his hand instinctively finding its way to you. With an easy touch, he tucks a curl behind your ear, his fingers lingering just long enough to make you feel the warmth of his calloused palm against your skin.

- Sheltering You from the Wind, His Own Way

Shanks doesn’t just pull you close when the wind picks up—he does it casually, as if he has every right to. He’ll throw his heavy cloak over your shoulders with a smirk, shifting his body just enough to block the strongest gusts. “Can’t have the wind stealing my favorite sight,” he muses, tucking a stray curl behind your ear with his thumb. He may be missing an arm, but that never stops him from holding you the way you need—as if the sea itself could never sweep you from his grasp.

- The Scent of Salt and Memory

He’s drawn to the scent of your hair in the same way he’s drawn to the ocean—something comforting, something constant. When he embraces you after weeks or months apart, he buries his face in your curls, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow, content sigh. “Smells like home,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and unguarded. If you tease him about smelling like rum and mischief, he only chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Then I guess we belong to each other, don’t we?”

- Taming His Hands, Not His Heart

He may only have one arm, but when he touches you, he makes you feel as if he could hold the entire world. If you ever struggle with your curls, he’ll offer to help, his fingers threading through them with surprising patience. “You trust me with this?” he teases, though his touch is careful, reverent. If you let him, he’ll tie loose sections away from your face, securing them with a scrap of ribbon he cut from his own coat. And when he’s finished, he leans back, studying his handiwork before murmuring, “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

[littleslaywrites]

cupid’s chemistry | spencer reid x reader

nsfw, mdni 

concept by @unknwnfanfics

summary: spencer tries to back a cake for you as a surprise for valentine’s, but ends up making a mess (that you gladly clean up).

word count: 1.4k

cw: smut, f!reader, sub!spencer, oral (m!receiving), slight edging, licking (is that a tag?), unprotected sex, p in v

Spencer had assumed baking would be easy. He had a degree in chemistry, after all. And that’s what baking was, right? Chemistry.

So, for Valentine’s Day, he decided to bake you a cake. Garcia helped him scour pinterest for the perfect recipe. He’d bought all the ingredients, even a heart shaped pan. He knew he’d have time after work before you got home. 

It proved to be less simple than it seemed. He’d gotten the cake in the oven… at least some of it. The mixer proved to be a challenge, as the moment he turned it on, it covered him with batter. It had taken a good ten seconds to turn it off. Batter was in his hair, on his clothes, all over his face. 

When he pulled the cake out of the oven, it was as if he’d never taken a science class in his life. It was somehow too dry and too wet, and the color was abysmal. He hoped the frosting could cover it, yet that proved even more difficult than the batter. Even after mixing, it came out way too sugary, with a strong flavor of red food coloring. 

Just as he was trying to figure out how to save it, you walked through the door. 

“What are you making?” you ask, somewhat suspiciously. 

“Umm… it’s nothing, just–”

His stuttering causes you to enter the kitchen to figure out what he’s doing. On the counter is a pan, which seems like it’s supposed to be a cake, or maybe a brownie. 

“It’s not very good,” Spencer says, defeated.

“No, it’s nice, just a little…” you trail off, trying to find something to say. 

“I thought it would be like chemistry,” he explains, bringing the mixing bowl of failed buttercream over. “It was supposed to be your Valentine’s surprise.”

“You’re covered in batter, honey.” He blushes as you wipe a drop off of his face. 

“The mixer got the best of me.”

“You might not be a good baker,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “but you’re definitely a cute one.” 

He blushes more. Even after all this time, he still gets flustered around you. And you can’t help but take advantage. You lick a bit of batter off of his face, enjoying the way his breath hitches, trying to hide his growing arousal. 

“Should we get you out of these messy clothes?” you ask, faking innocence.

He nods, starting to unbutton his sweater. As he’s pulling it off, you start to unbutton his shirt.

“It only got on my sweater–” is all he can get out before you shush him. He listens, as he always does with you.

Next you make work of his pants, getting on your knees and unzipping them. Spencer rolls his head back, sliding off his underwear, unable to wait for you to do it yourself. His cock springs out, already hard. There’s another thing you love about him. You can get him worked up so easily. 

“I want–” he sighs out as you lightly stroke him.

“Want what? Words, baby.”

“Your mouth. Want your mouth on me.” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” you say, licking his tip. He whimpers, resisting the urge to buck his hips into your mouth. 

You tease him for a while, licking stripes along his veins. He’s leaning against the counter, white-knuckling the edge to keep himself still. Whines escape his lips as he leans his head back, hair disheveled from his earlier incident with the mixer. 

When you finally take him all the way into your mouth, he lets out a moan. You’re gripping onto his thighs for leverage, bobbing your head along his length. Closing your eyes, you get lost in the feeling of the weight in your mouth, the salty taste on your tongue. You feel him twitching as you swallow him deeper. 

Spencer can’t resist anymore, and gives a quick thrust into your mouth. You hum around him, the vibration coaxing him to do it again. Soon, he’s mindlessly moving his hips, chasing his release. You almost let him cum, but decide you’re not done teasing him. 

Taking your mouth off of him, you move to stand up. 

“Please-” he starts.

“No begging,” you say. “Bedroom.”

He follows you into your room like a lost puppy, driven by need. You lay down on the bed, and he joins you, capturing you in a hungry kiss. Your legs tangle together, and he ruts his cock into the side of your thigh, needing any touch he can get. 

You turn him over so he’s below you. If he wanted, he could overpower you, but he’s always putty in your hands. You sit back so you’re on his thighs, just below his crotch. Playing with his cock, you touch him ever so lightly, running a thumb along his slit and tracing the veins you love to admire. 

“Y/n,” he chokes out, brain empty, save for your name. 

Humming in response, you move to sit up on your knees. Shifting just above him, you grab ahold of his length, grinding your wetness on his tip. The stimulation has both of you whimpering, hips speeding up slightly. 

Stopping your motions, you sink down slowly. Spencer sighs, arching his back before you can even take him all the way. You press his hip down, letting yourself adjust before he can move. 

Hand holding him to the bed, you whine. His length fills you just right, and he looks so pretty below you. His brown eyes are communicating everything he can’t voice, begging you for any motion. Leaning down, you press a kiss to his lips. When he closes his eyes, you can feel his eyelashes flutter, complimenting the way your cunt flutters around him.

Pulling away from the kiss, you run your tongue along the remaining batter that’s left on his face. He blushes as you trace his sharp jawline, cleaning up the mess he made of himself. 

You sit back up, tentatively pulling yourself up before slamming back down. Spencer can’t help but meet your motions, rutting up into you. You allow him to set the pace, listening to the soundtrack of his whines and groans. 

The force of his thrusts cause you to lean down, placing a hand on the bed. You can feel his tip prodding deep inside you. His length surprises you every time, reaching within you in a way nobody else can.

He quickly loses rhythm, his need overcoming any sense. Taking over again, you use your hands on the bed as leverage. Being back in control allows you to guide him where you want. You shift so he’s hitting you on the soft spot of your walls. You pause your motions to move your hips subtly, grinding his tip into your sweet spot, before picking up pace again.

You’re clenching him hard, Spencer aware that it’s a signal that you’re close. He lets you use him, his back arching to have you as close as physically possible. Your knees are spread wide, needing him as deep as you can get it.

You can feel his cock spasming inside you as he holds off his own release. As desperate as he is, he wants you to finish before he does. He’s clenching his thighs, hips unconsciously meeting yours. Skin slaps skin, mixing with sounds of your pleasure.

Your hands run along his chest, feeling every part of him as you go over the edge. Your thighs close tightly around his body, muscles tensing before releasing altogether. Crying out, you let yourself fall onto him, fingers going to his hair. Your hands grab at whatever they can, and the tug at Spencer’s locks has him groaning. 

He continues to thrust into you a few more times before he has his own orgasm, arms pulling you close to him. Leaning into your neck, he whimpers into your ear, unintelligible noises combined with your name. 

Both of you are breathing heavily when you roll off of him, whining slightly at the emptiness. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you whisper into his ear, running a hand through his hair as he comes down from his high. 

“Sorry about the cake,” he says. 

“I think you’ve sweat the rest of the batter off of your face, at least.” He turns to look at you, still red in the cheeks. “But you still need a shower.”

“I’ll probably need some help in there,” he says, faking a pout. 

“Poor baby,’ you say, pulling him toward the bathroom.

[jollyhunter]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY / BEN x fem!Reader [Happy Valentine’s Day!!]

WARNING Fluff, (some) plot, Angst (bearable), Smut - NSFW - MDNI!; fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Ben (gasp!), faking orgasm, Ben reprimanding you, aftercare (Ben's way lol), strong language, basically just a general warning for Soldier Boy, no use of Y/N

⋆ ˚｡⋆ NOTE Okay sweethearts, this is my first time writing for Soldier Boy so please be lenient with me. 😭 Getting this man's colorful speech feel right as a non-native English is a real challenge lmao

After reading the Loverboy!Ben Headcanons by @lovedahlia I finally found the courage to pick this idea up again! And thanks @zepskies Coffee Shop Hadcanons for inspiring me with the sweet ending!! (and the pussy drink 💀)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY The lovey-dovey atmosphere around Valentine's Day did little to ease your ache. To put it blunt; Lately your love life's been... let's say dull. Since for whatever reason getting off was turning out to be frustratingly difficult. Or more like, impossible; You just outlast any man in bed.

Well, except maybe for the cocky bastard of a supe seated across of you… Who you’d just made a bet with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7.4k [my longest fic so far!? 😭]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

One, two, three, five - now another orgasm. You lost count. He keeps rocking his hips as you ride another one of your highs out, his cock throbbing inside you -

“Is it hot?” Ben’s gravely voice throws you right off your imaginary man, eyes snapping up at him with a look of panic and confusion.

The warm scent of weed wafts through the musky air and hits your nose, reminding you of your situation; Right. You’re here to ‘babysit’ Soldier Boy while he’s meticulously rolling joints and taking a swig of his beer every now and then.

“W-what?” Your thumb quickly swipes away the fanfic on your phone’s screen, feigning innocence.

“The picture of your boyfriend’s dick.” He replies. The motel’s dim light frames the intense gaze occasionally drifting toward you, a teasing smile tugging at his beard when he continues. “Can’t ignore the way you’ve been practically eye-fucking that thing for the past six joints.” He jerks his chin at the phone now tightly clasped under your hands likes it’s holding all your sins in one place.

“What- that’s not- no- what the hell.” You stutter, while you’re secretly relieved that his mind took a different direction.

“Hm,” he grunts, unconvinced, his eyes briefly closing. You tense up in the couch when his elbows slide off the table, now resting on his spread legs, his head tilting your way. “What’s it then, huh? Internet?”

Ah yes, you were looking at internet. Hughie had mentioned the word to him some days ago, but no one seems to have had the patience – or guts – to properly explain it to him. You smirk to yourself, but keep the mocking comment back. You didn’t want to risk him snatching your phone away again, as he had done many times before just to annoy you.

“Yeah, internet. It’s like a – a library, but digital, you know?” You try to explain. Your hands casually let the phone disappear in your jeans’ back pocket while you make sure to keep the discussion going. “How do you even know about dickpics? My gramps sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“Oh fuck off.” He throws you a half-arsed scowl over the edge of his canted beer, “I basically invented it. The concept of showing off your dick to your girl ain’t that goddamn new-fangled.” He sneers the word ‘new-fangled’, his free hand waving dismissively in your direction.

The frown on his lips shifts into a crooked smile at what seems to be a particularly fond memory popping up in his mind. Cute, it suits him.

“I once had Warhol print my dick in the colors of the American flag. Surprised Countess with one on every fuckin’ wall.”

“Wow.” You can’t help but shake your head and crack a laughter at the mental image. “I bet she was ecstatic.”

“Oh you can bet my nutsack. That night we fucked like bunnies. Skeeted those paintings. Redecorated the whole damn thing.” He grins like a proud boy before his fond smile suddenly flips, “Now the bitch’s gargling dirt.”

The air thickened and your chest tightens. Only the sound of his fingers briefly strangling the neck of his beer bottle fills the tense silence in the room.

Your eyes drift to the ground, scrambling for something to say to steer the conversation away from his dead ex - but he beats you to it.

Ben has let out a heavy sigh after he took a swig, the beer bottle now tipped in your direction.

"So. No boyfriend then, huh?" He muses before he tilts his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, “Gonna spend your national fuck day all alone with a pillow between your legs?”

“I- I’m not spending my - as you call it so colourfully - ‘national fuck day’ with a pillow between my legs. Thank you very much.”

“No? Not gonna rawdog it while you’re thinking of me?”

Your eyes widen at that wild accusation - not that he was wrong about the latter assumption. But you certainly wouldn’t let him know that.

Your cheeks flush slightly and you quickly force your parted lips into a firm, tight line. “For your information. I’ll not spend my day all sad and pathetic home alone but will be going out to Jerry’s Coffeehouse and treat myself with an extra large matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and loads of vanilla syrup. And it’ll be my best fucking Valentine’s day.”

His eyebrow pops up at that, his sharp eyes observing you for a moment as if he’s considering something, his expression a mixture between amusement and something else which you can’t quite read.

After a moment his lips quirk, voice confident, but there’s also a hint of curiosity hidden behind it, “Ah, that’s a code word for you rounding the bases, hm? Get yourself a sweet fuckin’ home run. All Turn-Down and the whole nine yards.”

“What? No – agh - Not everything’s about sex, Ben.” You groan and drag a hand down your face, trying your best to hide the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “Unlike me, I bet you wouldn’t survive a day without jerking off if I wasn’t cockblocking you with my mere presence.”

“And I bet I could ruin you real fast if you didn’t act like a little tight-folded nun around me all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. In all these weeks, Ben never made a move on you. Not even a single attempt at flirting with you. To the point that - even though you knew you shouldn’t - you started to wonder whether it was your looks or your personality you’d have to blame for.

So, yes, you have indeed acted rather, let’s say, ‘reserved’ around Ben.

But that wasn’t because you were appalled by the thought of what he could do to you with you sprawled out beneath him, all open and inviting. Quite the contrary. It was because you liked the thought, but also didn’t want to fall for yet another man who’d just use you for his pleasure.

So you made sure to keep him at an arms length.

“Jesus, you’re so damn vulgar.” You utter, your back slumped against the couch’s armrest while you try your best to act unaffected by his words, “ You kiss a lady with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“What’s the deal with you chicks? I ain’t friggin' Cary Grant, y’know?” He takes a messy swig of his beer and briefly wipes his beard with the back of his hand, “Y’all so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I wish.” You grumble, the words slipping your lips before you can give them a second thought.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me, sweetheart?”

“You know what? Yeah.” You retort out of nowhere, purely driven by all the pent-up frustration of the past months. Straightening up, you proceed to make it worse in such a confident tone which even surprises yourself, “I bet my ass that I could outlast you in bed.”

It was frustrating. And felt embarrassing. Really. It didn’t help that you tried to sell it as if it was an achievement worth an oscar.

"Well, that just proofs it then."

"Proofs what?"

"That you're a wuss-fucker. Just some pathetic fucking dicks dippin' in there." Ben jerks his head towards the spot hidden between your tightly crossed legs and he snorts in amusement at your grimace. "What? ‘Tis a real shame’s all I’m sayin’. I mean, what real man doesn't make sure his girl gets off first.” He leans back and sneers against the mouth of his beer bottle, “'S pathetic, really."

"Yeah, right." you roll your eyes, your voice tighter, "'Cuz I bet you're such a gentleman in bed. But you can't proof shit."

“Oh you’re on.” He quickly sets down the bottle and flashes his cocky grin at you, his voice dropping an octave to hit that tingling spot inside you, “I’ll have you cum so damn hard, you’ll be screamin’ and kickin’ while I hold ya down. And guess what, sweetheart…”

He pushes off the chair, his large frame looming over you before he bends down to your eye-level, his voice dipping into a low, deep gravelly tone, “I ain’t gunna let ya move a single inch… and have you take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Silence. Only the soft gulp of your last sense of self-control getting forced down your throat cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips when he straightens up again, his voice nonchalant. “‘Course, only if you want.”

“I do.” The answer came faster than you could even process it.

He looks back down at you, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he covers it up with a smug expression, “Oh yeah?”

His words were like the flick of a switch.

Next moment clothings were flying across the room, partially torn as neither of you had the patience to get them off properly. The heat between you skyrocketed, heavy breathing filling your ears in tandem with intense drumming of your heart. Soft golden rays peek through the shutters, their light bouncing off his darkened eyes and casting shadows of wild, fervent bodies moving through the room like a tempest.

God you felt so pent up - it was driving you mad. The desperate need for relief, for reaching that sweet peak of ecstasy. It clouds your mind, has your will to think straight completely subdued.

Ben doesn’t seem to be in much more control either, his hands flying across your body, like he doesn’t know what to explore first. He pushes you up against the wall, the force deliberately kept to a minimum. His nose draws a line across your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a drug, all the way up your neck until he exhales again, the hot breath pressed against your skin under your jaw.

“Fuck me – you’re intoxicatin’, woman.” He rasps out, his voice raw and full of barely contained need.

Your breath comes out shaky, head tilted to the side without a second thought. “Ben,” you say his name close to a whine, your mind handing over the reigns to him, “Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t-” he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled by the trail of kisses, “’M not gonna stop until you’ve cum.” His teeth skim along your pulse point and for a moment you feel like your legs give in. But he quickly steadies you, his large hands moving down your sides to hold onto your hips with a firm grip. “Promise.” He adds hoarsely, some of your skin now tugged between his teeth as he starts to leave love bites in his wake. “We got a bet goin’, after all.”

Your body’s now moving on instinct and for only one purpose. Your need, your heat, it’ll keep you going, you know it. No matter how long you’ll have to pant like a racing horse, no matter how much you’ll regret it the next day when you’ll feel stiff and aching at places you didn’t even know you had muscles.

It all doesn’t matter right now. It is all just you and him. The world reduced to his strong arms wrapped around your fragile frame, his muscles flexing as he lifts you up, and his world reduced to your legs wrapping around his hips, your aching core pressed up against his bulging boxers.

Your lips collide with his, their first meeting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. Your mind goes hazy, your legs tighten around his hips and your hands hang onto his shoulder in an attempt to hold him close.

Your heads swivel, mouths working passionate. But to your surprise, Ben still keeps it slow, savouring every bit of your lips dancing around his. His tongue’s tasting the inside of your mouth as he swallows your moans and fills it with his own groans. Teeth gently pull at your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss, to give you the chance to catch your breath.

You pant against him, your lips burning from the stubbles but still lingering there. You suddenly feel the rest of your body again, a shudder running down your spine, right to your aching core.

That’s when you notice how wet your inner thighs are, the slick coating your skin and folds. Ben licks his lips, the scent of your undeniable arousal filling his senses. He moves you on his hips, pinning you further against the wall to hold you in place with one hand while the other trails over the bump of your hipbones, dipping down between your legs.

“Christ on a Stake. You’re so fuckin’ pent up. What did those wusses do to let you leave like this?” He groans, fingers coating in your slick as he runs them down your inner thigh.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed, your hips bucking against him with the need for some friction already. “Please, I- Ah-fff- ” You mutter, your words cut short by a terribly needy whine when Bens fingertips brush across your clit.

“Yeah, yeah, calm the hell down” he chuckles, his lips back to suck a red mark at your neck, “’M gonna take care of that needy pussy of yours, dontcha worry.”

You nod, soft moans slipping your red puffy lips as he assaults every inch of skin he can reach. Your eyes widen with a yelp when you suddenly feel yourself getting heaved up high and your limbs flail uncontrollably in a panic.

“Hey- stop struggling darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He orders gruffly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you safely in his grip. With one swift move he lifts you high enough for your legs to drape over his shoulders on each side, his palms now wrapping around the underside of your thighs to keep you pinned between the wall and his head. In moments like these you could feel a shiver run down your back, as you’d just been reminded again of the inhuman power imbalance between you two. Fuck - he could snap you in two if he’d want to.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to,” He growls, his lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of your dripping hole, all open and inviting, and right on his eye-level. “So damn needy. ‘N so damn beautiful.” He muses, ignoring the increased panting of yours against the top of his head while you’re murmuring his name like a prayer.

His grip tightens as he pushes his head between your thighs, his hot breath against your clit sending sparks of fire through your body. He digs right in, eagerly swiping his tongue between your folds, swirling around your clit, teasing your entrance with slow deliberate slaps of his tongue. You start to squirm and moan in response, the friction like a pain-killer to your aching core.

“Hold still damn it,” he orders, the rumbling of his voice against your folds sending shivers up your spine. You whimper and his intensity increases in response. He groans when your fingers tangle up in his hair and your fingernails scrape at his scalp with frantic motions.

“Fffuck- please, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop-” You plead in weak whimpers as you can feel his beard burn your sensitive skin with every drag of his tongue up your folds, the prickling pain mixing with your pleasure. Meanwhile the muscles in his arms flex to hold you still, keep you pinned up high against the wall and to make sure you don’t accidentally tumble off his shoulders.

His lips close around your clit and he starts to suck terrible whines out of you, your legs fighting his hands under his onslaught. Your pleasure begins to coil tight, your body twitches and your fingers claw at his long hair for the following minutes - but it never snaps. How the fuck does it still not snap?

A whine of protest leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls his head back. You watch his glistening face from half lidded eyes, your chest heaving, some of your sweet juice caught in his beard.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re a tough case, huh?” He chuckles, the tongue swiping his lips to savour your taste again with a low praising groan, “Fuck- Marilyn Monroe’s a dumpster next to you. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

A gasp slips your lips when he decides to haul you over his shoulder and with three long strides crosses the room over to the bed when a SMACK has you yelp up. The skin of your asscheek reddens where his hand just swatted you and he chuckles. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You struggle and squirm in protest but it’s no use, his tight grip around your waist keeps you on his shoulder, facing the other way with your nice bum exposed to him. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His hand swats your other asscheek this time and he laughs at your needy whine, his tone amused as you can practically hear the smirk playing on is lips, “I haven’t even started.”

His voice sounds raspy, but his tone tells you he’s thrilled, as if the fact that you didn’t shatter from his touch yet, has him enthralled. After all, Soldier Boy was used to things being easy for him, to succeed with half an effort, so real challenges were a rare case for him. And your stubbornly high resistance to falling over the edge seemed to be just that.

Next moment Ben bends down, dropping you gently onto the bed before the mattress dips down under his additional weight when he crawls on top of you. His hands roam your body, groping the soft flesh at your hips, your thighs, roughly massaging your breasts as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

You start to squirm and tremble from need, your fingernails scraping at his taut muscles that box you in from all sides. “Just hold still for me, yeah? Just lemme do the work…” he husks out, voice low and dangerous with promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in and breaths hot and low against the shell of your ear while you feel his hand trail down between your shaking legs. “Will get this needy pussy wrecked and all mine…”

You hum into his shoulder when he pushes his index finger past your slick folds, and he takes that as a cue that you need more, so his middle finger quickly follows. This time he manages to draw a soft moan from your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck where you start to kiss and nibble his skin. “You greedy little thing…” he growls, his lips quirked into a smirk.

He starts to pump them, his fingers curling to hit your spongy spot that earns him at least a little louder moan. “Please,” you start to beg, “I need more, Ben… please-” He doesn’t wait and jams a third finger inside your tight cunt before he flicks his thumb over the hood of your swollen clit, the pace of his hand slapping loudly against your cunt increasing. The stretch of his fat fingers filling you up, rubbing your g-spot and scissoring, it all has your legs trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening again to the point where it just – flat lines.

Ben notices the frustration in your eyes and he leans in to press a sloppy kiss onto your damp forehead. His thumb rubs faster circles over your clit, his eyes locked onto your face when his impatience starts to mutter under his breath. "We got us a real stubborn pussy here, hm? You think everyone else is too much of a wuss to keep up with you, huh? Is that it? You need someone who can give as good as they get?"

“Fine” He grunts, pulling his fingers from your dripping hole, his voice gruff with irritated determination, “Looks like this’ a job for my dick. Gonna fuck you over that edge in no time.”

“Please.” You whine, your face buried in his broad shoulder. Your clit swollen, throbbing, tingling, every nerve of your body burning hot and leading down to that one single aching knot as your system was threatening to short-circuit your brain, just to get this damn bundle of nerves to finally erupt.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers, his thick cock free and fully erect. He grapples with your twitching legs, spreading them apart and pulling you back towards his hips where his pink tip pushes against your entrance. You stifle a mewl, your hips bucking instinctively as you need him. Need all of him.

Both of your groans collide between your lips when he snaps his hips and pushes his shaft all the way into your tight channel in one - unceremonious – go. He stills for a moment, his breath hot and heavy when it wafts against your face, “You good?”

His voice was low, a hoarse whisper between the two of you. You nod once again, a weak “yeah” tumbling off your lips. His hands move up to grip onto your hips like handles, his hips slowly starting to move.

You groan at the feeling of his thick pulsing length dragging down your soft walls before being jammed back in all the way up until he hits your cervix and he coaxes a whimper from you. His pace isn’t fast, but his thrusts are deep, each one well measured and deliberate.

“That’s it, you can take it… taking my cock so fuckin’ well...” He mutters against your skin, his tongue swiping across your salty skin.

When he starts to increase his force, your fingers dig into his skin and if it wasn’t for his indestructibleness, he was sure he’d have some nice and long claw marks of you down his back. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and cants your hips, getting an even deeper angle this way. Slouching noise fills the room, the sound of wet skin clashing together in time with your increasing moans and whines and his grunts and groans.

His hand suddenly reaches up to grab your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "See, darlin'? I’ll have you fall apart beneath me soon enough… can't keep your pussy giving me that attitude, that's how you end up in a mess like this.” He mocks you with a teasing chuckle, “Getting the stuffing pounded out of you, all because you couldn't control that naughty mouth of yours and had to make a bet with me."

You just nod, the meaning of his words flying by your clouded mind. Your sole focus’ on your building pleasure, rapidly charging up your throbbing clit. Ben notices it too when your walls start to clamp down on his cock, every hard thrust forcing its way back in to keep the pleasure building.

“Fuck – you’re so tight – You gonna strangle my damn dick at this point.” He hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh again to pull your hips back and meet his thrusts.

“You close, darlin’?” Ben grunts above you.

There it is again. That embarrassing moment of silence. You would’ve sighed right now if it wasn’t for you being buried beneath Ben and his punctured thrusts knocking the air out of you.

Are you close? Your core’s on fire. Certainly. To the point where it hurts even. You feel your legs and feet tingling like white-noise is rushing through your blood, leaving every sensitive nerve in its wake going numb.

But still. You know you wouldn’t tip over. Stuck in that fucking uphill battle. It was just. Not. Enough. It never was nowadays.

The blatant lie sits on the tip of your tongue when Ben’s gruff voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare fake it.”

How - Your mind comes to a screeching halt.

You choke it back down. Cancel the act that was up next, your well-versed finale to the dull program you were used to.

Shit, he knows.

“N-no…” you confess under your breath. The sound of it weak and to your relief, lost between his heavy grunts.

Or so you think.

“What? You think I’m some spineless wuss who can’t get his girl off?” He punctures each word with a deep thrust as he keeps pounding you into the mattress, “Just tell me whatever the fuck you need me to do, I’m not gonna cry, Jesus Christ.” He continues to reprimand you in a firm tone, his voice holding a hint of disappointment.

You gasp, your breath gets stuck in your throat. No man has ever asked you this before. No one.

Ben suddenly stills, his green eyes locking with yours when his voice takes a serious tone, “You need me to be rougher, pretty girl? That it?”

Your breath hitches, your mind dizzy and clouded by his musky scent, the feeling of him inside you, above you, all around you - and the heat still burning between your legs, still not on that damn edge to your long chased relief.

He leans down next to your head to scrub his beard along your cheeks and up to your ear, “Just say the word,” he growls and you can practically see the smirk spread across his face by the way he sounds.

He knows. Fuck he knows you need more.

And yet he waits for your response, patiently, his body still hanging onto you with a tight grip while his hot breath wafts against the shell of your ear in short bursts like a countdown.

There’s a moment of tense silence, like the calm before a storm. A force that is waiting for you to invite it in, to let it wreck your temple.

“Y-yes, please,” Your voice’s trembling slightly from each puff of warm air that’s huffed from between his lips and smothered across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.

“Jackpot,” he hums, a satisfied expression on his face before his lips begin aimlessly placing kisses all over your face, as if trying to soothe your frustration. “Not gunna hold back anymore… gunna fuck you so long ‘n so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next days. You like that thought, hm?”

“Y—yeah- please – just don’t stop…” you admit with a needy whine, your legs twitching against his shoulders and your head tilted back while your hands start to fist the sheets in anticipation. You’d surely fall over the edge in the next minutes. You had to.

Little did you know, that you’d still be going for the next couple of hours.

You switched positions every time you felt how your clit was going numb from the overstimulation and the pent up energy. Ben’s bulky body kept working relentlessly, his power not faltering once, his pace never slowing down unless he noticed you needed a moment to catch your breath.

He’d be trapping you under him, ass high up in the air, back pressed down with one hand splayed across it, wrists somewhere buried in the pillows and pinned there roughly by his other hand as he slammed is cock against your cervix in a brutal pace.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders, his lips against the spot behind your ear and his long, stubby beard scraping your skin as his jaw moves, “I want to see your beautiful face when you rock that high the way you fuckin’ deserve.”

“Oh- Oh fuck- I- I’m close-“ you scream as you feel his hard tip punch your spongy walls like he’s trying to engrave himself into your every inch and his fingers meanwhile rubbing your clit sore. He roughly flips you over onto your back, his lips catching yours just in time when your walls flutter around him and finally, finally that sweet relief crashes down on you. Unexpected and intoxicating as your guttural moans get muffled by his mouth. “God- this- you, God-”

He pulls back, huffing a raspy laughter with a mock-offended tone, “God? I’m fuckin’ better.” He feels your cum coat his cock, your walls wrapping tightly around him. It takes all his will power to hold himself back, to not empty himself inside you. Not yet. Not when he’d promised you to keep going all night. “That’s it,” He plants a praising kiss onto your forehead, his gruff voice rumbling against your skin, “And now let’s hear it once more. Just for good measure.”

And he does. Fingers sink into your skin whenever he’d move you around, large hands holding you down, up, on top of him, against him, muscles working all around you while they would bend or push you into any position, effortlessly.

His superhuman strength overpowers you without even trying, but it feels like he’s only ever using as little as needed to get a reaction out of you. A good reaction. When he roughly flips you over again, pushes you into the mattress, pins your head to the sheets as you squirm and tremble under him, you notice his lips brush up against your ear more frequently, murmuring incoherent, soothing words. Like he’s following the urge to be closer to you. Making silent check-ins. Always making sure you’re not overwhelmed, making sure that those wines and yelps are the cause of pleasurable pain and nothing else. At last, you find yourself on top of him, straddling his hips, bouncing on his hard cock as you ride him like a bull. “What was that about you outlasting me, huh?” He taunts and mocks you in time with rough strokes along your exhausted gummiwalls, “‘bout taking whatever I can throw at you, hm?” He snaps his hips up to meet you halfway when you yelp a short admission, “O-okay, you win!”

His lips curl into a smug smile, “What was that? You gotta work that pretty mouth of yours. Gramps ears ain’t that good.” He pulls you down roughly, making you take him deeper with each thrust of his.

“Y-yar r-ah-iight!” You groan as you fall apart one more final time. Your walls flutter and this time he allows himself to let you pull him over the edge along you. His pulsing cock coating your insides with his warm cum. Your voice’s raspy from the harsh breaths you’ve sucked down your open mouth for the past hours.

You collapse to his chest, shaking from the waves of pleasure that rippled through your every fibre and the feeling of his warm seeds filling you up and dripping down his shaft and onto his skin. His arms wrap around your back to hold you close while he murmurs naughty words against the crown of your head.

While Ben had gotten himself a joint to smoke, you padded into the bathroom, getting yourself cleaned. “You doin’ good, darlin’?” He calls after you, loosley holding the joint between his lips as he props himself up against the bed’s headboard.

You return after a while, your body wrapped up in a towel as you make your way back to the bed and snuggle up to him. He drapes his arm lazily around your shoulder, pulling you closer so that your head rests on his firm chest.

“You really had to work for it… huh?” You break the silence with a low mutter, feeling some embarrassment creep up on you.

“You kiddin’?” His eyes snap down at you and he takes a drag of his joint before he continues, “Darlin’, you’ve got the drive of a bunny in heat. Taking my cock so fuckin’ well. Most tap out after the second round but you -“ he lets out a low whistle close to a hiss, “- you just keep goin’ all night – Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“Oh shush…” You giggle sheepishly.

“Just speaking the damn truth. You be proud of that, ya hear me?” He says in a firm voice, while he reaches up to stroke a damp hair out of your face.

You smile, feeling your chest tingle and your cheek warm up, “This was… this was unbelievable. You were amazing.”

He laughs and flashes a cocky grin down at you, “Told ya my dick would beat your pussy over that edge.“

You cringe inwardly at his choice of words, “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about your… your dick or your stamina. I’m talking about you.” You pause, his eyebrows knot together and you quickly add, "Like, non-physically."

He stares at you, nonplussed - then irritated. “Fuck me. You - you snort some of my shit, prissy little thing?”

“No, Ben-,” a soft, frustrated chuckle escapes your lips that makes his eyebrows twitch together again, “You - you are amazing.”

You repeat but this time tilt your head back to hold his gaze, like you’re pointing at the soul hiding behind those green orbs that stare back at you, while your fingers draw invisible circles on his arms.

Silence.

Ben’s sharp eyes are searching your face for clues, like he’s mentally going through every drug that could have led you to say something as ridiculous as that.

You smile in return. A genuine, honest smile. Aimed at him. And his mind short circuits for a moment.

A faint flash of something like a blush crosses his cheeks, but it is covered up the same moment with his usual gruff expression and an irritated scoff. “‘Course I’m fuckin’ amazin’. Besides that, I just wanted to win the bet.” His teeth flash at you between a cocky smirk. “And I proofed you damn wrong.”

Ah, there it is again, good ol’ Soldier Boy.

Walls and barb wire and mine field; all up and ready to defend that one and only fragile part of his indestructible body. Keeping it strapped down by some rush of power trip and waterboarded in his twisted idea of love.

You chuckle, knowingly. That damn soft smile on your lips again.

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression, like he’s fighting the urge to slap some sense into you for throwing such an inappropriate gesture his way. To him, it was infuriating, really. But thanks to that stupid curve dancing across your face, he now feels himself caught up in a whole new range of emotions.

You could have gotten up now and left. Like you were sure he expected you to. Probably one of the reasons he kept silent, his brows pulled low like a defensive shield against your gaze, his arm draped around your shoulders so awkwardly… ‘cuz he knew he wasn’t good at this. Aftercare. He’s practically just waiting for you to snap at him, and pull away without another good word. His eyes narrow further, almost provoking it now as he felt himself slowly crumble under your warm presence.

But none of these thoughts crossed your mind. Instead your fingers gently trace the frame of his hardened face that could’ve fooled anyone but you.

That speck of a blush had been more than enough reason to settle down further into his chest with a soft hum, “Mhm, you did win... Win-win.”

Mindless chattering carries the cozy atmosphere of Jerry’s Coffehouse, each table occupied by couples sharing desserts and passionate kisses. All except the one set under your arms, your fingers loosely holding onto the card before you drop it to the table in resignation.

The sweet scent of sugary sins whirls around your nose, intrusive, mocking you. Now that you are here, sitting in the middle of a room full of unfiltered, tooth-aching love all around you, it seems like your appetite has been spoiled for good.

Truth be told, you can’t entirely blame the lovestruck couples boxing you in like in a bully circle. The problem is much worse. You feel lonely. Not the usual lonely, but terribly lonely because you had something for a moment, something real special, and now it was gone again.

It feels like so many unspoken feelings still hang in the air. At least for you there are. You are pretty sure that Ben was more than happy about Butcher’s interruption just when you thought you’d seen a glimpse of something more beneath this scraggy hard shell of “Soldier Boy”.

You exhale heavily. Your eyes glued down to your empty hands.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Your job to watch Soldier Boy was done. He’d moved on. It was over. After all, last night was just for some fun, right? Something to finally get you off, to feel so much more than-

You mentally kick yourself. Get your shit together and get back to your old life.

You fish out your phone from your pocket and open the fanfic from yesterday. With a heavy sigh you scroll down the blurry words, memories of your past night flashing across your inner eye – when a sudden noise almost has you drop your phone.

The coffee table rattles under your elbows as the opposite chair clatters into it under the force of a kick and the following screeching sound has some heads whirl around to watch the scene with raised eyebrows.

Whipped cream sploshes for a second as the large glass CLANGS down in front of you and hits the wooden surface with the force of a drunken man handling a beer bottle. You instinctively dodge back in your seat. Your eyes watch the green contents of it sway under the thick layer of chocolate sprinkled cream topping before your befuddled look darts up to meet him.

Ben slumps down across of you. His casual clothes almost could’ve fooled one to believe he’s a regular guy, if it wasn’t for his bulky frame hanging off the seat in all directions.

He looks a tad annoyed, but that was something you’d long become accustomed to. There was always something that pissed Ben off when you were around. Or someone for that matter. But mostly, it was just his resting face and you knew better than to take it personally.

“Couples get one pussy milk for two.” He states gruffly, ignoring all the faces turned his way now.

“…Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” You sputter, thrown off by the sudden whiff of musky smoke mixed with an unusual, intense, fresh and masculine smell… was that perfume that just hit your nose?

His stern expression melts into a flirtatious smile. This is new. “Hey sweetheart. Miss me yet?”

“How did you know I was here? - Wait- did you just say, for couples?”

“That’s what the sailor-hat-cum-gobbler back there said.” He boots back the chair next to you to kick up his legs while he continues with an annoyed grunt, but lacked any bite, “This green spew better be worth my damn money.”

You blink at him rapidly, and quite frankly, dumbfounded. Is that emotionally constipated man even aware of what he just said or-

“That’s what we are, innit?” He cuts you short, his voice as gravelly and confident as always.

But the way his green pupils glance up at you from the corner of his eyes, a thick strand of hair falling into his face when his head tilted away slightly, like a puppy afraid to get kicked… His emotions were subtle, a rare and fleeting moment, and anybody else might have dismissed it. But it told you so much more than he was willing to admit.

When your eyes flicker down to his hand twitching from his death grip on the arm rest, your chest tightens.

Oh my God. Ben was dead fucking serious.

“Don’t people usually first date?” You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

And to buy yourself some time as you try to grapple with a situation you had never expected to find yourself in.

In fact, you have pictured yourself in it ever since you stepped into that shabby damn motel room where he had locked eyes with you for the very first time.

His stern expression makes way for a raucous laughter, his voice booming across the small coffee in pride. “I think we’re past that point, love, after I’ve fucked you raw. For five fucking hours. That’s longer than any damn date I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus Christ - Ben - tune it down! Please.” You plead in a hushed voice, face flushed as you can sense all the curious eyes watching you both closely, like you’re part of a live performance. And a scandalous one on top.

“I don’t hear any complaints. Just stating the facts here, sweetheart.” He chuckles cockily and winks at you, clearly his full ego back in place again, “So it’s settled, then?”

“Uh- I - uh-,” you stumble over your words, your hands fidgeting and your head still reeling from the fact that he had just announced your new relationship status as if he’d made a decent marketing deal with Vought.

His eyebrows push together, that familiar look of impatience taking over his face as he tries to understand why you’re still hesitating. You swallow thickly, the lump in your throat blocking any chance to voice your inner struggles.

You visibly shrink under his intense gaze and your eyes sink to the table, unsure of what to do. You sense him move across of you and you half-expect him to either snark at you now or just simply get up and leave. Damnit, now you fucked up.

But instead he slides the XXL milkshake across the table until it bumps into your tightly clasped hands and your eyes dart up to meet his again. He searches your face, emerald eyes sharp, analysing, but motivated by genuine concern.

His calloused fingers slide off the glass to brush them against yours, gentle, almost hesitant. As if those very same fingers hadn’t groped and gripped your flesh all night like he wanted to leave his marks on every inch of your body.

His large hand moves to cover both of yours, muffling the fidgeting of your fingers with a calm and heavy presence, his actions a big contrast to his rumbling voice. “Hey, you still with me?” He husks out your name, his green eyes boring into yours, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitches, he squeezes your hands, the tension eases. Ben’s grounding you.

“Yes.” You finally whisper with an affectionate smile, and the same moment his fingers twitch around your hands. “It’s settled.”

“Good.” He mutters to himself and his expression seems almost… relieved.

It’s this moment you realise something: Ben’s not been avoiding his usual flirty and cocky smiles because he didn’t like you or thought you weren’t worth a fling. But because you were more than a possible fling to him. Because this, this was dead serious to him. And he was probably terrified of screwing it up.

After all, people didn’t love Benjamin for showing emotions, for vulnerability, for weakness, for being human. They loved Soldier Boy for being a fucking hero. The strongest. Indestructible. And not caressing fragile hands like they were an extention of the most precious soul in the whole damn universe to him.

His hands squeeze yours once more, as if physically reassuring you, before he pulls away and leans back again, now a content smile embellishing his firm face.

A genuine smile. No show. No flirty Soldier Boy.

From one ear to the other, all Benjamin.

As if he’d seen himself in the mirror, he suddenly shifts in his seat, like he’s physically trying to shake off any remaining trace of that disgusting vulnerability. “Right, so…” He clears his throat, his eyes flickering around the packed coffee shop like he’s looking for some moron to latch onto.

You chuckle softly at the sight, knowing all too well that it’ll probably take a hell of a lot of time and love to get him to smile more like this without having him recoil from his own feelings every time.

Sure enough, Ben has found the perfect victim. “Think we gotta step up our couple-game. Popeye’s still ain’t buyin’ it.” He smirks, his eyes lazily rolling over to briefly shoot a death glare at the sailor-hat wearing employee who’s now cowering behind the counter.

He then reaches over the table again, his index finger flicking against one of the two red-white striped straws bobbing in the sweet drink, before he goes on to strangle his own between his calloused finger pads.

“The dick bender’s been watching you all this time.” He growls, and you can feel just a hint of protectiveness from the way his jaw muscle twitches beneath his beard and his nose wrinkles above the straw that’s now been jammed between his bared teeth.

“Everyone’s watching us, Ben.” You chuckle, before your eyes trail down to the free straw with an amused smile.

Ben nudges your inner thigh with his foot under the table to get your attention. “C’mon, you make me look like some cocksucker here.” He teases and jerks his chin at you and the untouched straw still dangling off your side of the milkshake, “You said you wanted a fucking great Valentine’s day, right? So do me a favour, sweetheart, and start sucking.”

You chuckle and bring the straw up to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. You take the first slurp and your cheeks melt into a wide, knowing smile.

Matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and extra vanilla syrup. That much for ‘a code word’.

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

A/N: I hope this turned out okay?? 😭

Also. Maybe I was breaking a taboo here or maybe it’s not as common as I thought, but I felt like it's a topic which I have rarely ever see in fanfics. And I know how some just don’t fall over the edge that easily? Like sometimes it genuinely feels frustrating to chase that relief to no end with no success? Yeah, this story is for you all. I hear you. 🧡

Starting a Soldier Boy tag list for anyone who’s interested! ♡

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Found | Platonic Yandere Demon Queen

Thinking about how society treats pregnant women. It’s a freshly new concept that pregnant women have autonomy and independence. More often than not when women are identified as pregnant there’s a trend of infantalizing. In a backward sense of thought a woman dealing with carrying life is reduced to a tired, stressed, and moody woman that must be appeased. Cravings demand she want pickles and ice cream. She’s got it! Don’t have this meal have this one, it’s better for your baby's health! Oh listen to Fur Elise it’ll calm you and make your baby smart! Tantrum at 3 in the morning? Don’t pay her any mind. 

Not all of the people caring for pregnant women do this negatively. Many times the concern of friends and family can ease the entire process. What’s more not all of the typically overreaching behaviors are unfounded, during a pregnancy there’s so much happening with the body the brain can be especially fragile. 

All that being said when the Demon Queen announced to her generals that she was expecting, immediately her subordinates silently moved to support their Queen on a much….deeper level. 

“My Queen I have some unfortunate news.”

“Speak General Mordecai.”

“The….raspberry jam reserves are no more.”

“I see…then break out the grape. It’s not my favorite but it’ll be due until we can get a new shipment.”

“That’s the thing….there are no grape jams left either.”

“…AAAAAAAGGHGHGH”

It’s a small dangerous line her generals tread on. Between receiving demands for jams to attacking the human kingdoms it’s left many exhausted. But there’s hope as the 10th month of her pregnancy concludes. Her army and its leaders will be assured further tantrums that result in heads being cut off will only be because she is dissatisfied with their work rather than her paranoia about her changing shape. 

But alas nothing is ever easy in the demon army, when the emergency messenger wyverns fly to the top-ranked generals with grave news. 

“The Queen’s child is….dead?!”

Children are a gift….miracles that can last as long as the tallest tree or end in a second faster than you can blink. Unfortunately, the Queen’s miracle was exactly an hour which meant a month of devastation for everyone. Of course, a mother’s grief is immeasurable and tragic but a the Demon Queen was a mother is even worse. Every day her generals stomached the thick and violent aura that oozed from their leader for meters long. Even the humans felt it; their crops drooping as if sharing her sorrow. Other forms of magic degraded at the glum influence her power held. 

In a moment of respite, the highest Demon General and the Exalted Hero came together. 

“This can’t go on….the magic this world has is sure to dissipate with this much despair.”

“I…agree…but grief isn’t something to be done away with, so simply.”

“I do have…one idea.”

“I don’t trust your judgment, Hero.”

“Sometimes neither do I, but I wouldn’t be the hero if I didn’t try!”

“.....Your optimism is nauseating. After this, I’m going to intensify my efforts to smite you.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The Exalted Hero’s glorious plan could only be enacted by the Demon Queen’s highest-ranking general. Strong enough to withstand the toxic magic-draining aura she exuded with little trouble. Her pride long out of reach as she rotted in the opulent and soft expanse of what would have been her nest.

“My Queen, would you like to overthrow the village on the outskirts of town? It’s been long since we’ve terrified the humans you and I.”

“...YoU DArE IntErRuPT mY BrOodING!?”

After sustaining some minor injuries a broken horn he stood by her side as she annihilated the entirety of the outer village of humans, sending a pillar of purple fire. Of course, only a few foolish humans attempt to intervene before she quickly snaps her fingers and their heads go flying. The humans are so full of non-magic that they are unburdened by her presence and she finds little enjoyment in making them writhe before dying. Her first officer knows this has done nothing but stave her boredom as the few who remain scream in agony or attempt to run. Without calling attention he steps away, picking a random home currently on fire. He steps inside hardly caring for the gaggle of gasping humans crawling helplessly around. It isn’t until he sees the singed doll on the ground does he fully inspect the home. Going deeper within as he hoped he finds precisely what he’s looking for.

When he returns to the Queen’s side, the boredom on her face hasn’t changed and he’s sure in a moment he’ll be ordered to level the town but first–

“Mordecai you can begin the—”

“WAHHH!”

The cry of an infant has the Queen sprinting, breaking the sound barrier to the burning house. On the doorstep is a naked babe, face contorted as they cry something fierce. Dismissing the nearly charcoal human reaching out the Demon Queen picks the baby up, cradling them into her chest.

“You poor poor dear, what Mother would leave you unattended during such a tragedy?”

The crying calms as she rocks the baby, waiting for its grabby hands pulling at her enchanted armor just like her own child did for the hour she knew her. Barely feeling the clasp of burnt fingers wrapping around her ankle she shakes her boots and steps on the weed pulling at her.

“Mordecai I leave this mud heap to you. Leave no trace.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Oh and announce to the armies that my child has been found.”

The Queen’s teleportation and the dissipating fog of her magic-draining cloud made the general smile. Far away the Hero has to refuse the help of the orphanages, they so gallantly encouraged. While the general hated the hero with all his being, the plan was diabolically perfect. What grieving mother would resist an orphaned crying babe? This mother just so happened to be the Queen of Demons with despair deep enough to cripple the entire living world—and now she was happy again.

“All of my demons, behold! The heir to the New World!”

“RAAAAAAHHH!”

Lucky you. The human baby of the feared Demon Queen set to inherit the world their mother was set to conquer. Surely their only real obstacles will be navigating the demon hierarchy and even that will be limited. For now, the Demon Queen has a child and absolutely no one will threaten the happiness of her darling baby.

More? Who am I kidding I'm definitely writing more of this 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[jooyeonsvape]

— pretty girl

genre; smut, some fluff

pairings; nonidol!taehyun, fratboy!taehyun, female!reader

w/c; 2.5k

synopsis; “guys usually think of me as ‘one of the guys’ so i guess i never had the opportunity.” you explain and he hums, then shakes his head. “that’s a shame.”

warnings; dirty talk, female receiving oral, fingering, cursing, alcohol, virgin fingering, guided masturbation

[ masterlist ]

a/n; i started writing this at 3 am, i got bags on my bags yall wtf. i had no inspiration to write but then i thought about this concept and kinda wrote a plot around it lmao. i hope u enjoy <3

soobin, yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai made up the most popular frat house in the college you all attended.

when they’re around, it’s more partying than studying and considering you were their best friend, you were included in that.

“[Y/N], your turn to babysit beomgyu if he gets too drunk tonight.” soobin calls out from his room and you pout, looking at the lightweight boy who is already starting to take shots.

“my nanny for the night.” beomgyu yells loudly and opens his arms wide for you to hug him from the couch he sat at.

you shake your head at his advance and instead take a shot for yourself. “that’s all i’m drinking tonight, watching beomgyu is a full time job, he likes to run around outside naked when he’s drunk.”

“i thought you supported free the nipple.” yeonjun teases and you raise an eyebrow. “i do support free the nipple, but i don’t support free the penis and traumatize the old lady down the street.” you shoot back and everyone laughs at the memory.

beomgyu raises his hands in defense, “it was kai’s shift but he obviously failed.” you nod in agreement and flop on the couch next to soobin who just finished getting dressed for the party.

“well, i was having the best sex of my life that night, so it was worth it.” you scrunch your face at him continuing in detail about the best blow job ever and technique she used on him.

after a minute you plug your ears with your fingers and rest your head on soobin’s shoulder until they were done.

“why are you so grossed out by sex talk [Y/N]? have you even seen a penis?” beomgyu tries to make fun of you but you just raise an eyebrow. “yes, yours, remember? i was the one who caught you, and it wasn’t impressive so i wouldn’t be talking.”

you always talked bluntly and hard-toned around them, which you think helped made them not see you as woman, but more of a sister.

as they all laughed, beomgyu was fake crying and you lean over to give him a hug. “i’m sorry my gyu, i was joking, you have the biggest pp in the world.” you giggle, rocking him back and forth.

“let’s get her boys.” he simply says, wiping his fake tear and the others start tickling you all over until you start kicking.

— —

an hour into the party you look everywhere for beomgyu but finally spot him on the couch making out with someone random. you nod to yourself because now you know he’s safe and inside, then go to soobin’s room.

you were quite anti-social tonight and alcohol usually helps that but since you can’t drink you decided to just watch movies in soobin’s room until the party is over.

you press play on the movie and set a timer for 30 minutes so you know when to check on beomgyu again.

“it’s unlocked,” you yell out, not feeling like standing up again and taehyun walks in with his bright smile that lights up any room.

“i thought you might’ve needed this.” he chuckles and hands you one of his blended alcohol mixtures. “i didn’t put a lot of tequila in it, don’t worry, you won’t get drunk.”

you take a sip and hum, “yummy, thank you. how is the party?” you ask and he sits at the end of the bed. “it’s the same as always, drunk people everywhere.”

you nod and take another sip of the drink before setting it aside. “why are you in here? there’s dudes out there asking about you.”

“i’m good, they’re probably drunk and expect me to put out just because i’m friends with 5 guys.” you giggle and shake your head at the thought of letting them touch you.

“it’s college though, this is our prime.” you just shrug your shoulders gently, “i’m not looking for a fuck and dump.”

he hums and the room randomly got awkward which usually wasn’t the case with taehyun. “why are you being nosey tonight?” you finally speak and he chuckles, “i just didn’t want you to miss out i guess, may i join you in here?”

you scoot over on the bed to make room for taehyun and take the drink he made down in one gulp.

he admires you taking the whole thing at once and laughs at the face you made. even though you weren’t drunk, his laughing makes you join him and soon the both of you were laughing at nothing but each others noises.

“are you sure you aren’t a lightweight [Y/N]?” taehyun questions with a soft chuckle when the two of you settle down. “no, i think your energy just makes me drunk.”

he nods and looks at the tv, wrapping his arm behind you so the two of you were cuddling, it didn’t feel uncomfortable but it was definitely new for you.

“i have another question.” taehyun speaks up 10 minutes later and you look up at him. “yes?” he bites the inside of his cheek as he tries to find a proper way to ask it. “are you a virgin?”

you blush at the sudden curiosity of your friend and hide your face in his shoulder. “yes, guys usually think of me as ‘one of the guys’ so i guess i never had the opportunity.” you explain and he hums, then shakes his head. “that’s a shame.”

“no i’m okay with it, i don’t know what i’m missing, so i don’t really try to find it.” taehyun clicks his tongue and looks down at you. “you’re not one of the guys, you’re just [Y/N].”

you purse your lips at the sound of him talking and look up at him again. “was that a compliment?” taehyun chuckles and hums, eyes still on the tv as he rubs your exposed belly, due to the crop top you’re wearing, with his thumb.

your eyes go down to his movements and he notices, “is that bothering you?” you shake your head and smile.

taehyun traces his finger tip around your hip and plays with the waistband of your shorts, “will you tell me when i start making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly and you take a deep breath before nodding.

he slowly slides his fingers under your shorts and quickly finds your clit through your panties, giving it a soft rub.

“have you ever masturbated?” he asks in your ear with a low voice you weren’t used to. “yes.” he lets out a chuckle and continues to rub.

“do you like my hand better?”

your breath hitched before you nod fast, “y-yes.”

taehyun smirks and lifts up your panties, putting pressure on your bare clit with his finger to see how sensitive you were.

you gasp at the feeling and buck your hips softly in his hand. “has anyone ever licked your pussy?” he questioned, sliding one of his fingers up and down your folds to get your clit wet.

you shake your head with a whine at his fingers and he nods in return. “may i be the first?”

the thought of losing your virginity tonight made you nervous but also excited so you nod hesitantly. “are you sure? use your words.”

you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together which made him chuckle. “you can eat my pussy.” taehyun smirks and sits up, taking the blanket off of you so he could kiss your belly.

“i’ll stop when you want me to pretty girl.” he reassures and you nod, looking down at him so close to something only you have ever touched.

he takes off your shorts and panties together, then looks up at you with smirk. “it should be criminal to keep something so beautiful hidden.” taehyun laughs, admiring your glistening pussy while you blush.

he leans in and gives your clit a few kisses to see your reaction. each kiss made your body jolt a little with sensitivity and he smiles, finding it cute.

“spread your legs wider.” he says in a comforting voice and you comply, spreading further with a shy blush.

taehyun licks his tongue up and down to lap up your juices with a hum, “sweet.” you giggle at him and hide your face.

your hips involuntary jerk when he takes your clit in his mouth and sucks, then moving his tongue in swirling movements. “fuck.” you moan out, tilting your head back in pleasure.

taehyun was very skillful with his mouth, he knew how to make a woman feel good. while his tongue was busy flicking your clit over and over, his finger hovered your hole.

“have you ever fingered yourself?” he asks when he pulls away from your clit and smirks, rubbing the hole slowly. “yes.” he hums, not satisfied with the answer. “tell me how it felt pretty girl.”

you blush at the name and look down to meet his eyes. “it was amazing, i put two fingers in and was shaking from how good it felt.”

taehyun swiftly goes up to your face and kisses your lips deeply before adding a finger inside your pussy with no warning which made you moan in the kiss.

“i think you’ve been secretly waiting for someone to fuck you with the way you talk.” he growls in your ear while he pumps his finger hard inside of you and adds a second one.

you gasp at the second finger, feeling your walls stretch with each thrust until it was used to the size. “i make myself cum just fine.” you smirk breathlessly and spread your legs wider.

“i’m sure you do pretty girl, but when i’m done with you, you’ll be wanting more than fingers.” you hated to admit he was right, all you wanted now was to feel his dick inside of you.

you kiss his lips again and moan so the party goers didn’t hear you yelling his name, which you wanted to do.

taehyun curls his fingers inside of you so he hit your spot each time and you whimper at the feeling. “rub your clit baby, just like you do when you’re alone.”

you blush and do as he says, starting to sweat at the feeling of being close. he watches when you lick your fingers then rub your nub as fast as you can and he smirks. “are you about to cum?”you nod and throw your head back so you could let out a strained moan.

when he heard you were close, he goes back down and moves your hand so he could take your clit in his mouth again.

with the pressure of his fingers pounding into you and his tongue flicking your clit fast, you finally let out a loud moan then cum hard on his slender fingers. he smirks against you and pulls out with his tongue still swirling around your clit until you were twitching from sensitivity.

he wipes his mouth after licking all your juices up and lays next to you again, satisfied with his work. “that was the best feeling i’ve ever had.” you giggle and wipe your forehead of sweat and try to steady your breathing.

taehyun chuckles and kisses your forehead gently, “good, i’m glad i could help.” you were still naked on the bottom half of your body when soobin opens the door.

you shuffle to find the blanket and he makes a frowned face. “on my bed? taehyun, your room is literally right next door. the party is almost over and beomgyu is no where to be seen, have you been checking on him [Y/N]?”

you press your lips together and notice your phone alarm has been ringing for the past 20 minutes but the pleasure took over all your other senses.

“i’ll find him, get cleaned up [Y/N] and go to your room taehyun.” he shakes his head and you try not to laugh.

“yes dad.” you both say in unison and laugh with each other.

soobin sighs and mutters words you couldn’t hear, “let’s go pretty girl, tonight you’re sleeping in my room, i think we’ll have some more fun.”

[gyu-tori]

Red Poppies | H.K

VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL | FLEUR DE DESTIN

Pairing: florist!hueningkai x fem!reader Genre: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Angst

Summary: When soulmates are found in dreams, your nights remain empty—until someone with a broken bond helps you search. As dreams clear, unexpected feelings emerge. Are soulmates really just predestined, or can fate change mid-course?

1/5 of the fleur de destin event!! See the full event here.

Word count: 14.2k

In a world where the concept of soulmates isn't a theory but an inevitable reality, the moment you turn 18, your dreams begin. That's when your soulmate appears, silently, waiting in the midst of your subconscious, pulling you into the world of shared dreams. It’s supposed to be magical—like a fate you can't escape, an inevitability that everyone else experiences.

Everyone else, except for you.

Every night, you wait, but the dreams never come. No warm, comforting figure stands before you in the half-light of slumber. No shared glances in the mist. The dreams everyone else describes, full of warmth and recognition, never materialize. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what’s wrong with you. Your friends laugh about their experiences with their soulmates, speaking of a mysterious presence—someone they’ve never met, but already feel an unshakable connection to.

But for you? Nothing.

It’s as if you’re destined to walk through life alone. Everyone else gets a preview of their future, a glimpse of someone meant just for them, and yet you’re left with nothing but empty nights and a growing sense of isolation.

Questions begin to haunt you: Are soulmates real, or is it just a cruel trick of fate? Why do others get to experience something you can only dream of? The idea that there could be someone out there for you seems increasingly like a fantasy, an ideal too far-fetched to be believed.

Despite your doubts, there’s still a sliver of hope—something small, fragile, that perhaps one day your dream will come. But for now, it feels like it will never come true. You try to convince yourself that you’re fine without it, that the idea of a soulmate is overrated, but every empty dream reminds you otherwise.

The city is buzzing around you—crowds moving in all directions, the hum of traffic mixing with the distant murmur of conversation. You weave through the chaos, phone pressed to your ear, trying your best to pay attention to Jungwon’s frantic pleas.

“Please, please, I need you to help me with this!” Jungwon’s voice is filled with urgency, almost reaching a panicked pitch. “I’m seriously stuck. It’s for my girlfriend, you know? She loves flowers, but I can’t figure out which ones to get her. I was thinking, like, lilies or tulips? Wait, no—daisies! Or roses… or maybe something more unusual? I don’t know, man. Please, can you just check this one shop near you? It’s called Fleur de Destin. I swear they have the best flowers ever. I’ll pay you back after, I promise!! Just please, I really-”

You roll your eyes, but it’s all in good fun. Jungwon has always been like this—a bit too eager, a little too scatterbrained, but always with good intentions. You try to keep up with his rambling while your eyes scan the sidewalk for the shop.

“Wonnie, calm down!” you sigh, almost chuckling at his frantic energy. “I’m already on my way. I’ll figure it out, okay? Just give me a second.”

As you round the corner, you finally spot the sign you’re looking for: Fleur de Destin. The name alone makes you roll your eyes, almost scoffing at how ridiculous it is. Of course, it had to be soulmate-related—some flower shop with a fancy name designed to tug at the heartstrings of those obsessed with the idea of destiny.

“Right, right, thank you, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” Jungwon’s voice rings with excitement, unaware of your thoughts. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you push open the shop door.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m the best,” you mutter sarcastically, stepping inside the shop, your eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display. “So, what flowers did you want again?”

“Okay, so she likes lilies, but not the tiger kind. And tulips—oh, wait, maybe daisies would be better?” Jungwon continues, listing off flower after flower, each suggestion more irrelevant than the last.

You groan, struggling to keep track of his endless requests. “Jungwon, you’re literally saying every flower in existence,” you complain, glancing around the shop as you try to focus. “Just pick one, or I’m walking out with a cactus.”

Distracted and exasperated, you turn the corner, still holding the phone to your ear. And then, in a flash, it happens.

You bump directly into someone. A sharp jolt of surprise, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor. You freeze, eyes widening in shock as a plethora of bright red petals tumbles from the stranger’s grasp and scatters across the floor.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, immediately hanging up on Jungwon without thinking. You kneel down, trying to salvage what’s left of the bouquet as your heart races. “Were these for your soulmate? I totally ruined them, didn’t I?”

The boy you bumped into crouches down with surprising grace, gathering the scattered flowers with care. His expression is more amused than anything else, as he looks up at you with a hint of a smile.

“No, these weren’t for my soulmate. Don’t worry about it,” he replies, his voice warm and reassuring.

Still flustered, you hastily help him pick up the fallen blooms. “But I completely ruined them. They were so pretty. I’ll pay for them!” you insist, already digging for your wallet.

He shakes his head with a small grin. “It’s fine. I wasn’t selling these to anyone specific. I was just arranging them.”

You bite your lip, not entirely convinced. “Still,” you protest, glancing at the half-destroyed bouquet. “I feel bad. They were part of a bigger arrangement, right? I messed it up.”

He pauses, and then grins wider, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous spark. “Well… you’re not wrong. I’d have to redo the whole arrangement now to make it work. But that’s just more work for me, so…” He holds the flowers out to you, a playful gleam in his gaze. “How about you take these instead? It’d save me the trouble.”

You blink, unsure. “Wait, really? I can pay for them, you know?” You hold up your wallet, still feeling guilty.

He shrugs, unfazed. “Yeah. Think of it as a freebie. From the shop to you. Something like… I don’t know, a new customer gift. Besides, it’s not like I can put these back on display now.”

A reluctant laugh escapes you, and you accept the bouquet with a small smile, feeling a little better about the situation. “Thank you. I feel bad about taking them, but… thank you,” you say, the awkwardness slowly fading.

As you straighten up to leave, ready to escape the situation before you embarrass yourself further, he adds, almost casually, “By the way, I’m Hueningkai. I work here part-time.”

His name lingers in your mind as you step out of the shop, the bouquet of poppies tucked carefully in your arms. For a brief moment, you feel a soft warmth blooming in your chest, a flutter that you can’t quite explain. You shake your head, dismissing it. It’s probably nothing, right? Just some random guy at a flower shop.

But the way his eyes spark with that playful, easy smile… something about it lingers in your thoughts longer than you expect.

The cool air hits you as you step outside, the city noises slowly fading into the background. The bouquet of red poppies feels delicate in your hands, their bright petals a stark contrast against the grey streets around you.

You pull your phone from your pocket, the familiar vibration in your hand a reminder of the chaos you’ve temporarily escaped. It’s a text from Jungwon—naturally. You glance at the screen, and immediately, you feel a little twinge of guilt.

“Did you find the flowers? Please tell me you didn’t get a cactus.”

You stare at the message for a beat, the poppies in your hand almost mocking you with their vibrant color. You can’t help but think of the brief encounter with the boy at the flower shop, his grin still lingering in your thoughts.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should you tell him the truth? That the flowers were a gift, that you accidentally ran into the boy while trying to help him? But it feels… too complicated. After all, you can’t exactly tell Jungwon you’ve already messed up his entire shopping trip by getting sidetracked with some random guy, even if the poppies are beautiful.

So, instead, you settle on something simpler. A little white lie.

“They didn’t have any of the ones you wanted. Sorry!”

You press send before you can second-guess yourself, a tiny knot of discomfort twisting in your stomach. You know Jungwon will bombard you with questions if he suspects something’s off, but at the moment, it seems like the easiest way out.

Sure enough, his response is swift and dramatic. A string of emojis floods the screen. A skull, a broken heart, and a sad cat.

You roll your eyes, chuckling softly to yourself. Typical Jungwon. Of course, he’d react like this. It’s all part of the charm—his over-the-top reactions to every little inconvenience.

But as you walk home, the weight of the bouquet starts to feel a little heavier, the small lie weighing on you despite how harmless it seems. You glance down at the poppies again. Their vibrant red hue stands out against the dull, overcast sky, reminding you of the shop, of Hueningkai, and of the warmth in his smile that you can’t seem to shake.

The soft morning light filters through your window, bathing the room in pale gold, but it only serves to amplify the emptiness you feel. The warmth of the sunlight brushes against your skin, but it does little to chase away the chill that’s settled in your chest. You blink awake, eyes still heavy with sleep, the familiar ache of disappointment lingering like a dull, unshakable weight. Another night, another empty dream. It’s become a cruel routine—the restless hours that stretch into a blur, the fragile hopes that flicker like candlelight, only to be snuffed out when morning comes and the truth sinks in: no soulmate. Just silence. Just loneliness.

You lie motionless, staring at the ceiling, the stillness of the room a mirror to the heaviness in your heart. Each breath feels shallow, as though the air itself carries the burden of your unfulfilled longing. Your gaze traces the cracks in the plaster above, mind drifting back to last night and the quiet sorrow of yet another dreamless sleep. The hours had passed in a haze of restless tossing and turning, the emptiness pressing against your chest like an unwelcome visitor that refused to leave.

But then, like a spark igniting in the darkness, a memory surfaces—soft and vivid, cutting through the fog of your melancholy. The bouquet of poppies on your counter. 

The bright red petals stand in stark contrast to the usual dull monotony of your mornings. You sit up and glance at the flowers again, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. Kai. You can’t shake the image of him—his warm smile, the way he hadn’t hesitated to give you the poppies, even when he probably should have asked for something in return. It’s funny how someone you barely know can make you feel so... seen, in a way. There was no judgment, no expectation, just a simple act of kindness that left you with more than just the flowers.

For a brief moment, the loneliness eases, replaced by a sense of comfort. A warmth you can’t quite place, something simple yet significant.

You decide, right then and there, that you should do something for him. It’s not much, just a small gesture to show your appreciation, but it feels like the right thing to do. Maybe it won’t change the emptiness that lingers in your heart, but at least for today, it feels like you’re taking a step toward something positive.

You make your way to a nearby café, the chilly air nipping at your cheeks as you walk, your hands cradling each other for warmth. The streets are quiet this early, the faint hum of the waking city blending with the soft rustle of leaves carried by the wind. Your breath fogs in front of you, each exhale a fleeting cloud that vanishes into the crisp morning air. The weight of your thoughts clings to you like the cold, but the gentle buzz of activity from the café’s glowing windows feels like a small reprieve from the solitude.

The bell above the door jingles softly as you step inside, warmth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint sweetness of pastries, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget the unease stirring in your chest. You step up to the counter, scanning the chalkboard menu even though you already know what you’ll order. Two cups of coffee—one for yourself, and one for him.

When it’s your turn, the barista greets you with a cheerful smile, her pen poised to jot down your order. You give it to her, your voice soft but steady, and she begins ringing you up. But then comes the inevitable question, casual and routine: “What name should I put on this one?” She gestures to one of the cups, waiting for your answer.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words falter, sticking in your throat. What was his name again?

The thought comes with an unexpected rush of panic. You know his name—of course, you do. You’ve said it to yourself countless times in the quiet moments in your mind. But now, with the barista watching you expectantly, the letters twist and blur in your mind. Hueningkai. That’s right, isn’t it? But how do you spell it? Is it “H-u-e” or “H-e-u”? The uncertainty churns in your stomach, and your nerves suddenly feel much too raw for something so small.

Your cheeks burn, the silence stretching uncomfortably. You need to say something. Anything. Before you can overthink it further, you quickly blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Just… Kai. K-A-I.”

The barista nods with an easy smile, scribbling the name onto the cup. Her pen glides over the paper like it’s the simplest thing in the world, and you let out a quiet, shaky breath of relief. But the faint blush warming your face refuses to fade, a mix of embarrassment and something else you can’t quite name.

You step to the side to wait for your coffee, arms crossed as you try to shake off the lingering awkwardness. It’s just a name. It doesn’t have to be this complicated. People shorten names all the time, don’t they? It’s not a big deal. But no matter how much you tell yourself this, you can’t escape the strange weight that settles in your chest.

Because it does feel like a big deal. The simple act of ordering coffee for him feels far more significant than it should. It’s not just about the name or the cup; it’s about the connection, the bridge between what’s real and what still feels so dreamlike. It matters to you—more than you’d expected—and the thought of getting it wrong, of somehow lessening the meaning of this small gesture, gnaws at the edges of your mind.

Your fingers drum lightly against the counter as you wait, the soft hum of the café filling the quiet spaces in your thoughts. Why does this feel so important? You can’t quite explain it, even to yourself, but you know the answer lies somewhere in the way his name lingers on your tongue. It’s not just a name; it’s a piece of him. And that makes it impossible for you to treat it as anything less.

Back at the flower shop, the door chimes softly as you push it open. The familiar scent of flowers greets you, but this time, it feels different. There’s a lightness to the air, a nervous anticipation you can’t shake. You glance around the shop and spot Kai behind the counter, his back turned as he carefully arranges a bouquet. As you approach, he turns, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Oh, hey. Back again? What, did you come to knock over more flowers?” he teases, his voice light and amused as he sets the bouquet down.

You laugh nervously, the memory of the previous day’s accidental collision still fresh in your mind. “No, I just… I felt bad about yesterday. You were so nice, and since you wouldn’t let me pay for the poppies, I thought coffee might make up for it.”

Kai raises an eyebrow, looking at the cup in your hand, and then his gaze flickers to the name written on it. His smile grows wider as he sees “Kai” scrawled in neat handwriting. “Kai, huh?”

Your heart skips a beat at the way he says it. Did I mess it up? You panic for a split second before quickly speaking up. “What? Did I spell it wrong?”

“No, it’s fine,” he chuckles, his tone warm and light. “My friends call me that too. I did tell you it’s Hueningkai though, remember?”

You groan, scratching the back of your neck, feeling heat rise to your face. “I didn’t forget, don’t worry. It’s just that the barista asked for the spelling, and I panicked. I wasn’t sure if it was like… H-u-e or H-e-u or…” You trail off, embarrassed at how overblown this whole situation feels now.

His laughter is genuine and easy, making the awkwardness feel lighter. “Don’t worry. You can just call me Kai. Honestly, it suits me better.”

The tension between you two fades, and the conversation turns easy, natural even, as you both sip your coffee in companionable silence. There’s a peacefulness in this small moment, a quiet connection that feels as if it’s grown out of the simplest of actions. It’s strange—how a cup of coffee, an exchange of words, could carry so much weight. You can’t explain it, but somehow, it does. There’s a comfort in being here with him, in the shared space, even if it’s only for a moment.

As you finish your coffee, you start to stand up, preparing to leave. The warmth of the coffee lingers in your hands, and you feel a small pang of reluctance at the thought of walking away. But just as you turn, Kai’s voice calls out, pulling you back like a thread being gently tugged.

“Hey! I just realized—I didn’t get your name. I should’ve asked it beforehand, huh?”

You freeze mid-step, caught off guard by the simple statement. It’s funny how something as ordinary as your name can feel so vulnerable at this moment, as if giving it away might anchor you to this fleeting encounter. Slowly, you turn back toward him, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your expression.

“Oh, uh, right,” you say, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “How could I forget? I’m Y/N.” The words come out soft, almost hesitant, but you offer him a small, shy smile to soften the awkwardness.

Kai’s lips curve into a genuine smile, one that makes his features light up in a way that feels unfairly disarming. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his tone carrying a warmth that feels like the first hint of spring after a long winter.

You nod, ready to excuse yourself, but he continues, his voice dipping into a playful lilt. “I feel like I should make sure you don’t knock over any more flowers. How about we exchange numbers? That way, you can give me a heads-up if you’re planning to visit again.”

A surprised laugh escapes your lips, and you shake your head. “Are you going to hold that over me forever?” you ask, though the lightness in your tone betrays the quiet excitement bubbling beneath your skin.

“Absolutely,” he replies without missing a beat, the mischievous glint in his eyes sending a small flutter through your chest. “But I promise to be gentle about it.”

The faint heat rising to your cheeks betrays the calm facade you’re trying to maintain. “Alright,” you say, pulling your phone from your pocket, your fingers trembling just enough for you to notice. You carefully type in your number, hesitating for a moment before handing it to him.

As he takes the phone, his fingers brush lightly against yours. The contact is brief—barely a second—but it leaves behind a spark that lingers, warming your skin like the echo of a quiet flame. He glances at the screen, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as he saves your number.

“There,” he says, holding up his phone like it’s a trophy. “Now I can officially make sure you’re not a menace to flowers everywhere.”

You laugh again, the sound feeling freer this time. “I’ll do my best to avoid causing more disasters. Scout’s honor.”

Kai grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes your heart skip. “I’ll hold you to that, Y/N.”

With a final exchange of smiles, you both say your goodbyes. As you step out of the coffee shop and into the cool air, the world feels a little brighter, the colors a little sharper. Your mind keeps circling back to the warmth of his voice, the easy rhythm of your conversation, and the way his smile lingered just for you.

Clutching your phone in your pocket, you can’t help but wonder if this brief, serendipitous moment might grow into something far more unexpected. For the first time in a long time, the idea doesn’t feel so impossible. Instead, it feels like a quiet kind of hope.

The first text from Kai comes the next morning, a simple message: “Hope your day’s going well.”

You stare at the screen for a moment, unsure of what to say, but it feels like a door opening—a small crack that you could slip through. So, you respond: “Good so far, just the usual. How about you?”

It’s an innocent exchange, but something about it makes your heart flutter. It’s just a text. Just a casual check-in. And yet, it feels like it means more.

Over the next few days, the texts come more regularly. The casual messages soon become a natural part of your routine. Sometimes it’s a photo of the flowers you’ve come across while walking home, sometimes it’s a little observation about something funny or odd you saw in the city. Kai, always prompt in his replies, sends photos of his own—his latest photography projects, snapshots of the flowers at the shop, or just the candid moments of his day. It’s never anything particularly groundbreaking, but the simplicity of it makes you feel like you’re getting to know him more than you expected.

One afternoon, you send him a picture of a small bouquet you picked up on your way back from class. Bright yellow daffodils, with their cheerful petals standing out against the greenery. “What do you think of these?” you ask, feeling a little silly, but the thought of his opinion matters to you in a way you can’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes. “They’re gorgeous. Definitely a good pick. I think you’re going to love how they look in your space.” There’s a small follow-up text: “Daffodils are one of my favorites. They remind me of early spring—the way the weather feels like it’s on the edge of change, but still holding onto a bit of the winter chill.”

You smile at his words, the thoughtfulness behind them. It’s strange how quickly you’ve come to appreciate these small moments of connection. The way his comments feel personal, and the way he seems to truly think about things before responding. It makes you feel seen, even if it’s just in this small way.

After a few weeks, the texts have evolved. Sometimes it’s quick updates on your day, but other times, you find yourselves talking late into the night, the messages flowing more easily than you ever expected. He tells you about his life, about how he balances his part-time job at the flower shop with his classes. How he has big dreams of traveling the world, capturing moments with his camera, but also feels a pressure to figure out what he wants to do with his life. There’s a sense of uncertainty in his words that you can relate to, but there’s also a spark of passion when he talks about photography, as if it’s the one thing he knows he’s meant to do.

It’s strange—how quickly you’ve started looking forward to his messages. At first, you thought it was just casual. A way to pass the time. But now? Now, it feels like a connection is slowly growing between you two, one small message at a time. Sometimes, you catch yourself waiting for the sound of your phone buzzing, hoping that there’ll be another text from him waiting for you. And when it does come, there’s a warmth that spreads through you, like the glow of the sun breaking through the clouds.

The ease with which you both have fallen into this comfortable, shared space catches you off guard. Every text feels like a small piece of a larger puzzle, one that you’re slowly starting to put together without even realizing it. And somehow, it feels like something more than just casual messages between friends. There’s something there, something that you can’t quite name yet.

Every now and then, you think about the idea of soulmates. You wonder, as you read his messages or look at the photos he sends, if this could be it. Could he be the one you’ve been waiting for, even though the dream system never worked for you? Could this—this—be how soulmates are found, not through dreams or destiny, but through something as simple and beautiful as a shared moment, a small act of kindness, and a deepening connection?

For now, though, all you know is that you enjoy these small moments with him. The way the conversations flow so naturally. The way he shares pieces of his life with you. And somehow, it feels like you’re building something more real than any dream could ever promise.

It’s another late evening at your favorite café, the soft hum of chatter and clink of coffee cups filling the air as you and Kai sit together, enjoying the warmth of your drinks. There's an unusual ease between you, a connection that feels more natural with each passing day.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Kai looks up at you, a contemplative expression crossing his face. "So, have you met your soulmate yet?"

The question catches you off guard, and your stomach sinks slightly. You've been avoiding this topic for weeks now. You laugh it off at first, trying to keep the conversation light. "What? No, I haven’t. You know that. I mean, I don't even have dreams like everyone else. It’s like... nothing is happening for me."

Kai gives you a soft, understanding look, though there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. You pause, feeling the familiar sting of rejection, the disappointment that comes with never having felt the pull of a soulmate.

He hesitates, then quietly admits, "I haven’t had a soulmate dream either. Not for a long time."

You glance at him in surprise, unsure of how to respond. "What do you mean, 'not for a long time'?"

He looks away, as if lost in thought. "I had one. A long time ago. But..." His voice falters, and he takes a deep breath before continuing, "... my soulmate rejected me. They cut the bond before it could even really start."

The words hang in the air, and you feel the weight of them. You can't imagine what that kind of rejection must feel like—being told that your connection, your future, isn't real. But the look in Kai’s eyes tells you that it’s been the hardest thing he’s ever experienced.

"I tried to move on," Kai adds, his voice soft. "But it's hard, you know? When you’ve been told that you only get one soulmate... and then it all falls apart."

The sadness in his tone is unmistakable, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him, even though you're struggling with your own emptiness. The idea that everyone only gets one soulmate feels like a cruel joke, especially when it’s all tied to something as fragile as a dream. You’ve never had a soulmate dream, and now you’re hearing that Kai had one—and it was ripped away from him before it could even begin.

You want to comfort him, but the weight of the situation leaves you at a loss for words. Kai continues to gaze into his cup, almost as if the pain is too much to look at directly.

After a long silence, he looks up, meeting your eyes with a quiet resolve. "But I’m not going to let that stop me from helping you."

You blink, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Kai leans back in his chair, his voice steady. "I know what it’s like to feel like you’re never going to meet the one. But that doesn’t mean I won’t help you find yours. Even if I’ve lost mine, I’ll help you. I won’t let you feel alone in this."

His words are both comforting and heartbreaking. You hadn’t expected him to offer—especially given everything he’s been through. The weight of his rejection, the hollow feeling he must carry every day, and still, he’s offering his help without hesitation. There’s something selfless in his offer, and you find it hard to process.

You swallow hard, a mix of gratitude and sadness pooling in your chest. "Kai, I—"

He gives you a soft smile, though it’s tinged with sorrow. "You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s not the same, but maybe we can help each other figure it out. I’ll be here, even if it’s just for the company. And I’ll help you search for your soulmate—just… don’t give up on them yet."

His words make your heart ache, and for a moment, you feel a tiny crack form in the wall around your own feelings. You had been carrying this burden of emptiness on your own, not sharing it with anyone, and now, Kai is here, offering to help in the only way he knows how. And yet, there’s a part of you that feels pained at the realization that he’s had to carry this pain of rejection alone for so long. You hadn’t expected to feel this way, but it hurts knowing that even though he’s willing to help you, he’s still carrying the pieces of his broken soulmate bond with him.

"I… I don't want you to feel like you have to help me," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to go through this alone just because I need someone."

Kai shakes his head, his eyes soft but firm. "No. I want to help you. It’s not about pity or anything. It’s just... if I can help you find something real, then maybe it’ll make this whole thing worth it for someone else, even if it’s not me."

A lump forms in your throat, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. The emotions swirling in your chest are too complex to untangle, but you appreciate his honesty, his vulnerability. Yet despite the sadness that’s colored this conversation, something inside you shifts—Kai is no longer just the boy who gave you bumped into that one day; he’s someone who truly understands the weight of lost dreams, and somehow, you’re both going to find a way through it together.

But as he speaks, you can’t shake the quiet disappointment that lingers in your heart. You finally had hopes of your soulmate, you thought it was him, but turns out he already had a soulmate, well used to. But still, you can’t help but feel grateful for the person sitting across from you, even if the path ahead is uncertain, you had a friend like him.

As the days pass, your connection with Kai deepens, although you don’t let it get further than just a friend helping you out. The conversations you once had over coffee now spill over into late-night text exchanges and phone calls. The weight of your shared quest to understand soulmates—those late ones, the lost ones, the ones like you—becomes a bond neither of you had anticipated.

It starts off small. You exchange articles, links to forums, obscure old myths about soulmates passed down through generations. But each discovery, no matter how trivial it seems, feels like a small victory. And every time Kai texts you something new he’s found, it brings a new kind of excitement, something you haven’t felt in a long time. The loneliness doesn’t sting quite as much when you're searching together, looking for answers that might finally bring you peace.

The first night you sit together in his room, your laptops open, books scattered around you, it feels like a shared mission. You're not just searching for your soulmate anymore. You’re searching for a truth that feels just out of reach.

Kai, always the meticulous one, has already printed out several research papers he found about soulmate bonds, especially ones about the late bloomers—people who don’t dream of their soulmate until later in life, or whose connections are severed before they can even begin to bloom. His handwriting fills a small notebook, filled with observations, notes, and even speculative ideas about how soulmates could be tied to something more than just a dream.

"This one," Kai says one night, his finger tracing an old myth from a dusty book he’d borrowed from the local library, "talks about how some soulmates might be waiting for the other to be ready. Like, maybe the dream doesn't happen until both people are emotionally prepared to face each other. That could be why you haven’t had a soulmate dream yet—maybe you’re just not ready, or the dream hasn’t arrived because you haven’t faced whatever you need to face yet."

You take a long look at the page, absorbing the idea. It makes sense, in a way. Could there be some truth to it? Have you been avoiding something in your life that could make your dream of a soulmate real? "What do you think?" you ask, curious about his thoughts.

Kai leans back, his eyes a little distant. “I don’t know. But it’s possible. It’s just like when people say you can't truly love someone else until you love yourself, right? Maybe it’s the same with soulmates. The universe is waiting for you to be whole first.”

You nod, the words resonating in a way you didn’t expect. There’s a truth to what he’s saying. It’s not just about meeting someone; maybe it’s about becoming someone capable of accepting that connection. The weight of that realization lingers, but it also offers a flicker of hope. Could your soulmate be out there, waiting for you to understand something about yourself before you meet?

Another night, as you scroll through a thread on a forum discussing soulmate connections, you stumble upon an older comment—one that catches your attention. It talks about how some soulmate connections aren’t about finding your other half, but about finding someone who compliments your journey, someone who helps you grow. You read the words to Kai out loud, and he nods thoughtfully.

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he muses, tapping his pen on the desk. “What if soulmates aren’t a perfect match but rather the catalyst to make you a better version of yourself? It’s kind of like... what I was talking about with ‘readiness.’ Maybe soulmates are there to teach us something.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of it. Could your soulmate be someone you wouldn’t expect? Someone who helps you grow, someone who’s meant to challenge you? The idea makes your stomach turn in an odd mix of excitement and nervousness. What if your soulmate was someone completely different from what you imagined?

Kai’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Maybe you haven’t had your dream because there’s something you still need to learn before you can be ready for it. But I’ll help you figure it out.”

His words settle over you like a gentle, steady reassurance. It’s not just the research or the theories that make you feel comforted, but the quiet sincerity behind them. Kai has been hurt by his own soulmate’s rejection, but instead of shutting down, he’s chosen to help you find yours. His belief in your chance at a soulmate, despite everything he’s been through, is something you can’t quite comprehend yet, but you feel the weight of it—how deeply he cares.

You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve such a loyal friend, but you’re grateful for it. The more time you spend together, the more you realize how much Kai’s presence has become a comfort in your life. He’s not just a source of information anymore; he’s a friend, someone who understands your struggles, someone who’s willing to go through this journey with you, no matter how long it takes.

But there’s something else, too—something that’s starting to grow between you, a feeling that’s hard to name. As you share theories, exchange ideas, and laugh over shared frustrations, the bond between you and Kai shifts. It’s no longer just about finding your soulmate. It’s about finding your way through this confusing, lonely world, together.

Sometimes, when your eyes meet across the table, you catch something unspoken in his gaze. It’s not the same as before. It’s softer, warmer, and when he smiles at you, it feels like something more than just a friend’s smile. But every time you notice it, you push it aside, telling yourself that you’re just imagining things.

After all, Kai is helping you find your soulmate—not being one for you.

And yet, with every passing night spent researching and learning together, the lines between friendship and something deeper begin to blur. The more you lean on each other, the harder it becomes to separate what you need from what you want. And neither of you knows yet where this journey will take you.

But you’re no longer alone in it.

After weeks of late-night research and deep conversations about soulmates, today is a quiet, uneventful afternoon at the flower shop. Kai has just finished his shift, and you’ve come from your classes, the calm of the day settling in between the two of you. The shop is warm, sunlight pouring through the windows, casting soft patterns on the floor. You’re both sitting with iced drinks in hand, scrolling through your phones. But there’s an underlying tension in the air that you can’t ignore.

Kai is distant today. He’s usually more present—playful, engaging, or cracking jokes to fill the silences. But not today. Today, he’s just sitting there, staring down at the floor, a furrow in his brow. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Hey,” you say gently, trying to break the silence. “You okay?”

Kai blinks and looks up, his gaze sharp as if he’s just snapped out of a trance. He offers a small, distracted smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, just... thinking about something. It’s nothing.”

You don’t buy it. Not for a second. Over the past few weeks, you’ve become familiar with the way his moods shift, and this isn’t the usual easygoing Kai you know. Something’s bothering him.

“You sure?” You try again. “You seem... off.”

He chuckles softly, a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... I ran into someone yesterday.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Someone? Who?”

Kai’s gaze flickers to the flowers scattered around the shop, avoiding your eyes. “My ex... the one who rejected me.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You’ve heard pieces of his past, but hearing it like this, raw and unfiltered, makes something twist in your chest. You can see it now—the tension in his shoulders, the subtle tightness in his jaw. There’s a lingering sadness in the way he says it, like a ghost he’s still carrying around.

“Wait, you saw her?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Kai nods, looking almost reluctant to share. “Yeah. It was a surprise. We bumped into each other on the street. Honestly, I thought I’d feel... something. But, weirdly, I felt nothing.”

“Nothing?” you echo, surprised. “Like... no anger? No pain?”

He shakes his head slowly, his expression distant. “Just... indifference. I thought I’d feel something after everything that happened. But when I saw her, I realized I don’t care anymore. I didn’t feel anger or resentment. I didn’t feel relief, either. I just felt... nothing. I guess I was hoping for some sort of closure, but instead, I just... walked away.”

You pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. The silence stretches, both of you caught in your thoughts, as you try to process what he’s just shared.

“It’s good that you felt indifferent,” you finally say, your voice gentle. “Maybe that means you’re starting to move on. Like... truly move on.”

Kai looks over at you, his eyes softening as he meets your gaze. He gives you a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “Yeah... maybe. But it’s weird, you know? After everything we went through, I thought I’d have some kind of reaction. Some feeling that would tell me I was over it. But in the end... I didn’t feel anything at all.”

You think for a moment, then offer him a reassuring smile. “Maybe that’s a good thing. It means you’re free.”

Kai lets out a quiet, almost resigned laugh, but there’s still a shadow in his eyes. “Maybe. But sometimes I wonder... if I’m just... afraid of feeling anything again, you know? Maybe that’s why I can’t let myself care.”

His words hang in the air, and you don’t know what to say. You’re not sure how to fix the uncertainty in his voice, or the way he’s still so hesitant to let himself feel something, even though he’s ready to let go of the past.

You don’t have an immediate answer for him. Instead, you just sit there with him in the quiet of the shop, the weight of his vulnerability hanging between you. The afternoon light spills through the windows, casting long shadows as the two of you are left alone with your thoughts.

After a long moment, you finally speak. “If you ever want to talk about it more, you know I’m here, right?”

Kai looks at you, his gaze soft, and his smile deepens slightly. “I know. Thanks.”

It’s not the kind of conversation that has any clear resolution, but in this moment, the simple act of being there for each other feels like the most important thing. You’re not sure if Kai is ready to face his fears about opening his heart again, but you’re certain that, for now, you’re there with him, sharing this space and understanding him in a way that words can’t fully capture.

The afternoon slips into evening, and the two of you fall into an easy, comfortable silence. There’s no pressure, no need for more explanations. You’re just there, two people who have seen each other’s scars and are slowly learning how to heal them together.

It’s a fragile, quiet comfort. But it’s enough. For now.

For years, your dreams remained empty, cold, and silent. But then, one night, things began to shift. It started with a faint shadow, a shape in the distance that was too unclear to recognize—just a faint outline, barely visible. The figure was blurry, indistinct, but even so, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't help but wonder: was this finally your soulmate? Could the long wait for a connection in your dreams be coming to an end?

Night after night, the figure grows clearer, the edges sharpening with each passing dream. Though you still can’t make out their face, their form is more defined now, their presence more tangible. You feel a pull in your chest, an unexplainable warmth when the figure appears. Hope swells inside you—the soulmate you’ve longed for, the one you were meant to meet, is finally reaching out. The excitement is overwhelming. You just need to see their face. But even with the lingering blur, you’re convinced: this is them, the one you’ve been waiting for all these years.

Yet, as your connection with this blurry figure deepens with each dream, you can’t help but think of Kai. Of the long conversations, of the shared moments, of the way you’ve both supported each other in your confusion and pain. For so long, he’s been a constant, a friend who has listened to your hopes and fears. And now, as you inch closer to meeting the person who will complete you, you wonder—what does this mean for you and Kai? Will your friendship end when your goal is reached?

For Kai, though, things are different. His dreams are also filled with a figure—a blurry, indistinct shape that grows clearer the more he sleeps. But unlike you, Kai isn’t filled with excitement. Instead, he feels dread. Every night, he’s haunted by this figure, and with every new dream, he’s more convinced that it’s not someone new—it's his ex-soulmate. The one who rejected him all those years ago.

The figure hasn’t solidified yet, still too blurry for him to fully recognize, but Kai knows. He knows that it’s her—the person who severed their bond before it could ever even begin. He hasn’t seen her in years, but every time the figure appears in his dreams, his stomach sinks. The more he tries to push it away, the more certain he becomes. This isn’t a new person; this is someone from his past, someone who broke his heart and left him questioning everything about soulmates.

The dread claws at him each night as he sees that blurry figure taking form, inching closer to clarity. He doesn’t want it to be her. He doesn’t want to face the possibility that she might want to reconnect, might want to try again. The rejection he endured still stings, and he can’t imagine having to go through that pain again. Even if the figure is still vague, the fear that it’s her makes him hesitate to believe it could be anything else. Yet, why does a part of him long for it to be someone else, even when it would be impossible.

You can’t contain your excitement when you sit down with Kai at the café, eager to share the latest developments in your dreams. The figure is growing clearer, and every night, you feel a stronger pull toward them. You tell Kai about how you can sense the figure reaching out to you, and how the bond feels so much more real with each passing night. The hope of finally meeting your soulmate feels so close, you can almost touch it.

Kai listens quietly, but the smile on his face is faint, his eyes shadowed with a flicker of something deeper. His heart sinks as you speak, a quiet ache growing in his chest. The weight of your words settles heavily on him. You’re so sure that the blurry figure in your dreams is your soulmate, but Kai can’t help but think about the blurry figure in his own dreams. 

As you talk about your dreams, about the connection growing stronger, Kai’s mind drifts. He’s been trying so hard to ignore the feelings that have been growing inside him. The feelings he’s been hiding for so long, the feelings that have only deepened as the two of you have spent more time together.

He’s falling for you. He knows it, feels it with every passing day, but the truth is too complicated, too painful. He watches as you get excited about your soulmate, your connection, and it feels like a cruel reminder of everything he can never have. The dream of soulmates that was once his, now shattered and replaced by an unspoken truth he can’t share.

Kai doesn’t want to feel this way. He doesn’t want to feel this weight on his chest, this tightness in his throat every time you talk about your soulmate, because he knows it’s too late. You’re on your way to meeting yours, and even if he wanted to tell you the truth—that he’s falling in love with you—he’s terrified. Terrified that you won’t feel the same way, terrified that it’s too late for him.

He’s watching you become closer to someone else, and the thought of losing you—of never having a chance with you—is unbearable. So, he suppresses it. He smiles, laughs, listens, all the while pretending that everything is fine, all the while fighting the intense emotions brewing inside him.

Despite the turmoil in his heart, Kai continues to help you. He listens patiently as you share the details of your dreams, offering his insights and advice on how to interpret the signs and clues. He tells you to pay attention to the smallest details, to look for anything that might confirm the identity of the figure, even as he feels the ache of not being able to reveal his own feelings.

Each time you tell him about how much clearer the figure has become, how the bond feels more tangible, the tension in Kai’s chest grows. He smiles and offers encouraging words, but the smile never quite reaches his eyes. The strain is evident in his voice, in the way he holds himself back from saying too much.

He’s doing everything he can to be there for you, to help you find your soulmate. But inside, he’s battling a storm of emotions. Every word of encouragement, every smile, feels like a slow burn, like he’s suffocating under the weight of his own unspoken love for you. The more you grow excited about your soulmate, the more the distance between you and Kai feels like an insurmountable divide.

The tension between you both grows, even if you don’t see it. Each moment spent with him feels like a precious gift to Kai, but also like a constant reminder of everything he can’t have. His love for you remains unspoken, locked away in the silence between your words, and he wonders how much longer he can keep it buried inside before it all comes spilling out.

The space between you and Kai continues to grow, though neither of you acknowledges it outright. There’s something undeniably charged between you two, something that lingers in every shared glance and every small moment. His presence in your life is a constant, and you’ve grown used to the comfort and warmth that comes with his quiet support. Yet, no matter how much you feel the connection between you, you still find yourself pushing it away.

You remind yourself that the soulmate you’ve been waiting for is out there, still a blurry figure in your dreams, and that’s the one you’re meant to be with. Despite the warmth you feel when Kai is around, the tenderness in his eyes, the way he listens to you like no one else does, you refuse to acknowledge it. You tell yourself that it’s too soon, that this bond with Kai doesn’t mean anything.

Each time you laugh and share another bit of good news about your dreams, you can feel his gaze lingering on you longer than it should, a quiet sadness that you don’t see, but that he can’t hide. You’re becoming more and more absorbed in the hope of meeting your soulmate, the one who’s supposed to be out there waiting for you, the one who will complete the dream you’ve been chasing for so long.

Kai, on the other hand, watches as the gap between you grows. It’s not that you’ve changed, not really. But he can see the way you’ve become more distant. The more excited you get about the dreams, the more you pull away from him, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself that your soulmate isn’t someone you already know. It eats away at him, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. He’s terrified that if he tells you how he feels, he’ll only push you further away. But watching you hold on to the idea of someone else, someone who’s not him, is slowly breaking him.

One evening, after a long day, you and Kai take a quiet walk together. The air is cool, the sound of your footsteps is all that can be heard as the silence between you both grows more palpable. You’re talking about your dreams, your soulmate, and how convinced you are that they’re finally starting to reach you. The figure is becoming clearer, your connection growing stronger.

“I can’t wait to finally meet them,” you say, your smile hopeful, your eyes filled with anticipation.

Kai forces a smile, nodding along as if he’s truly happy for you, but his heart feels like it’s sinking. He swallows the lump in his throat, the ache that has been building inside him for weeks. “Yeah,” he replies softly, his voice carrying a faint edge of pain that he quickly tries to mask. “They’re out there.”

But even as he says it, there’s a part of him that wants to scream that he’s right here. That he’s the one who’s been by your side, supporting you through all of this. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He watches as you remain wrapped in the belief that your soulmate is someone who will appear in your dreams, and he wonders if you’ll ever look at him in that way.

The walk ends in silence, a thick, invisible wall between you that neither of you is willing to acknowledge. You part ways, still believing in the dream of your soulmate, unaware of how much Kai has already given you—how much he’s already given up in silence.

For Kai, each step away from you feels like a piece of him breaking off, but he swallows it down. He’s learned to live in the space of almost, to pretend that everything is fine, even when his heart aches with every passing second. But the truth is, he knows deep down that no matter how hard he tries to be just your friend, the feelings he has for you have grown too strong to ignore. He just doesn’t know if you’ll ever see him the way he sees you, nor should you, not when you’re destined to be with someone else already.

The night wraps around Kai like a heavy blanket as he sits on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at your message. His thumb brushes idly against the screen, scrolling up to reread your words, as if the emotions woven into them might shift into something easier to bear if he looks just one more time.

You had sent it with so much enthusiasm, your excitement spilling over like the first rays of dawn breaking through the darkest night. You’d written about the dream—how vivid it was, how the figure was no longer a blur but beginning to take shape. You’d described every detail with a breathless kind of joy: the way the figure moved, how they reached out to you, how close you felt to finally understanding who they were. It was like reading a story painted in colors so bright they almost hurt his eyes, each word shining with hope and possibility.

Kai could see your happiness so clearly in every word, and it twisted something deep inside him. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable as he pictured you sitting there, eyes lit up, fingers typing quickly, pouring out your heart to him. It was the kind of joy he wanted to see on your face every day, the kind of excitement he longed to be the cause of—but instead, it was for someone else. Someone faceless. Someone who wasn’t him.

His hand tightened around his phone as he reread your description of the dream, the way you’d said the figure was finally coming into focus, how it felt like you were standing on the edge of a life-changing revelation. Kai could practically hear your voice in his mind, brimming with anticipation, and it only made the ache in his chest worse.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling slightly, and before he knows it, he’s typing. I wish it were me. I wish I was the one you saw in your dreams. The words spill out in a rush, raw and unfiltered, as though his heart had taken over, desperate to finally be heard.

For a moment, he stares at the screen, his heart pounding. The confession feels so fragile, so vulnerable, and yet it burns with the truth he’s been carrying for far too long. The glowing words seem to taunt him, daring him to hit send, to step into the unknown and finally bare his soul.

But then reality crashes down on him like a wave, cold and unforgiving. His breathing slows as doubt creeps in, wrapping around him like chains. His thumb hovers over the “send” button, frozen. What if this changes everything? What if you don’t feel the same? What if he loses you entirely?

The risk feels too great, the fear too overwhelming. With a shaking breath, he presses backspace, watching the words disappear one by one, like erasing a part of himself. The blank text box stares back at him, mocking him with its emptiness.

Kai types something safer, something distant, something that won’t betray the storm raging inside him. "That sounds amazing. I’m really happy for you," he writes. The words feel hollow, lifeless, like a shadow of what he truly wants to say. But that's all he can manage.

He hits send before he can overthink it, the message vanishing into the ether like a whisper swallowed by the wind. As soon as it’s gone, a crushing weight settles on his chest. The ache doesn’t lessen; it deepens, sinking into him like a stone dropped into the depths of a still lake.

He imagines you reading his response, your excitement still glowing, your mind racing with thoughts of your soulmate and the dream that brought them closer to you. He imagines your smile, your heart fluttering with hope, and it feels like a knife twisting in his chest.

Kai closes his eyes, letting his head fall into his hands. The silence of his room is deafening, broken only by the sound of his own uneven breathing. He tells himself he’s happy for you—he repeats it over and over in his mind, like a mantra, as if saying it enough times might make it true. But deep down, he knows he’s lying.

He doesn’t just want to be part of your dreams; he wants to be the dream. The person you wake up thinking about. The one you’re so excited to meet. The one who makes your heart race and your words spill out in breathless joy. But instead, he’s the one sitting in the shadows, watching you chase a future that doesn’t include him.

A few days later, you meet Kai for coffee at your favorite spot, a cozy little café tucked away from the bustling streets. The familiar hum of conversation blends with the soft clinking of cups and the faint aroma of roasted beans in the air. It’s one of those rare, fleeting moments when life feels suspended in a delicate balance, and the two of you can simply exist—no burdens, no expectations, just two people sharing a moment of peace.

The conversation starts light, with playful jabs about the unseasonably warm weather and anecdotes from your day that make him chuckle. There’s an ease between you that feels natural, like slipping into a favorite sweater. But as the minutes tick by and your drinks grow lukewarm, the conversation takes a turn, shifting into deeper waters as it often does when you’re with him.

"So," Kai begins, a teasing lilt in his voice as he stirs his coffee. "How’s it going? The soulmate dreams?" His tone is light, almost casual, but the slight hesitation in his question hints at something more—something unspoken.

You sit up a little straighter, your eyes bright with excitement as you lean forward. "It’s getting clearer every night," you say, your words spilling out in a rush. "I can almost see them, Kai. It’s like I’m standing right there, just one step away. I know I’m going to meet them soon."

Kai listens intently, his hand stilling on his cup as he watches you. There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze, but it’s layered with something you can’t quite catch—an emotion buried deep beneath the surface. He offers you a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "You really think they’re out there, huh?" he asks, his voice lilting with mock curiosity, but the weight behind his words betrays him.

You nod eagerly, completely missing the subtle crack in his façade. "I know they are," you say with conviction, your hands curling around your cup. "I’ve been waiting for this my whole life, Kai. I can feel it. They’re out there, and they’re waiting for me too."

His smile falters, just for a moment, before he schools his expression into something softer, something easier to wear. "I guess we all have to believe in something," he murmurs, his voice so quiet it nearly gets lost in the background noise. But his words hold a heaviness that lingers, an ache he tries to suppress.

You’re too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the way his shoulders slump ever so slightly, or the way his fingers tighten around his cup like he’s holding himself together. You keep talking, sharing every detail of your dreams—the colors, the sounds, the way your soulmate’s presence feels so real, so close. And all the while, Kai sits there, nodding along, his chest tightening with every word.

For you, this is hope—an unwavering belief that everything you’ve dreamed of is just around the corner. But for Kai, it’s something else entirely. It’s a quiet kind of agony, the kind that sits heavy in your chest and makes it hard to breathe. He’s been your confidant, your anchor, the one you turn to when the world feels too big. But as he listens to you speak of your soulmate with such reverence, a cruel truth seeps into his heart: you’ve never looked at him the way you look at the person in your dreams.

He forces another smile, his lips trembling for just a fraction of a second. "I’m happy for you," he says softly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. He means it—he really does—but the words feel like glass on his tongue.

You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on you, or the way his hands tremble slightly as he sets his cup down. You don’t see the way his heart breaks, piece by piece, with every word you speak. All you see is the future you’ve dreamed of, the life you’re so certain is waiting for you.

And Kai—sweet, selfless Kai—sits there in silence, letting you pour your heart out even as his own shatters. A part of him wants to tell you the truth, to lay everything bare and risk it all. But another part—the part that loves you too much to take that chance—keeps him rooted in place. So he listens, he smiles, he nods, and he pretends. Because that’s all he can do now—be your friend, your confidant, the one who cheers you on even as he quietly mourns the future he knows he’ll never have with you.

A week later, the air feels heavy between you and Kai as you walk through the park, side by side, your shoes crunching softly on the path beneath. It’s a serene evening—the kind that makes everything feel just a little more alive, just a little more beautiful. The sky is a warm gradient of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon. The kind of moment you would want to savor, if only everything didn’t feel so complicated.

Kai is listening as you talk about your usual topic the past few days, your soulmate—about the blurry figure in your dreams, how each night it becomes clearer. You’re excited, almost desperate to share this feeling with him. The possibility of finally meeting the person you’ve been waiting for, the one who might complete you.

But as you speak, you notice something. Kai is looking at you differently. His usual smile is soft, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, a mix of emotions you can’t quite understand but it’s something that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a heaviness in the way he watches you, a silent understanding between you that only heightens the tension in the air.

The conversation slows, the words between you becoming fewer as the quiet settles in. You’re aware of the space between you—close, but not quite touching. It feels like everything is building to something, but neither of you knows exactly what. Your heartbeat quickens, and for the first time, you realize just how close you’ve become to him, how much his presence affects you.

Suddenly, you stop walking, turning to face him. The moment hangs between you, and you feel the pull—something between you that’s been there all along, something that’s become undeniable. Kai stands still, his gaze searching yours, as if asking for something you’re not sure you can give.

Then, before you can think, you see it: the way he leans in just slightly, the way the world feels like it’s slowing down around you. The distance between you shrinks, and you feel an electric current spark in the air. His breath is warm against your skin, his presence so overwhelming that your heart seems to stop beating for a moment.

Everything inside you screams to kiss him—to bridge the gap between you and the unspoken words you both keep holding back. But your thoughts of your soulmate—of the person who’s supposed to be in your dreams—rush in, and before you can even make a choice, you pull back.

“Wait,” you murmur, your voice shaky, caught in the whirlwind of your own emotions. “This is wrong, Kai. I... I can’t do this.”

Kai freezes. For a second, the world feels like it’s fallen silent, but instead of letting the awkwardness linger, he smiles quickly, a little too brightly, as though trying to mask what just happened.

"Sorry, I thought you had an eyelash on your cheek," he says, his voice light, almost too casual. "I was just trying to get it."

He raises his hand and brushes your cheek gently with his fingers, an act so tender it almost feels like a confession. His touch lingers for a moment before he pulls away, his smirk now a little forced.

“I don’t know if I got it. I couldn’t really see it properly,” he adds with a chuckle, as if nothing significant just happened. “Oh, sorry, guess I just got a little too close.”

You laugh nervously, your heart still racing, trying to mask the confusion inside. "Right," you say, your voice weak. "That was... close."

Kai steps back, his eyes still lingering on you for a fraction of a second, but the moment is already slipping away, the unspoken words hanging in the air, unresolved. The quiet that follows feels different now, heavier, like you’re both pretending it didn’t happen.

The rest of the walk feels like a slow unraveling. You continue to talk, but the easy silence is gone, replaced by an uncomfortable tension. The words are there, but they don’t feel like they’re reaching each other the same way. It’s as though the space between you has grown even wider.

Later, when you lie in bed, you replay the moment over and over in your mind. You keep thinking about how close you were, the way his fingers had brushed your cheek. You wonder if it had been a mistake to stop. Was it too soon? Was it wrong to pull away?

You convince yourself that you did the right thing. It’s not fair to Kai. It’s not fair to the soulmate you’re waiting for. But deep down, there’s a nagging doubt, a voice that wonders if you’ve been fooling yourself all along. Was it really the wrong time? Or did you just push him away because you were afraid of what it meant?

On the other side of the situation, Kai is tangled in his own thoughts. His fists are clenched at his sides as he stares at the ceiling, his mind racing. He replays the moment in his head too—the way his heart had pounded when you stopped him, how close you had been, how he thought, for just a second, that you might feel it too.

But you pulled away. And in that moment, he felt the weight of it all—the distance between you, the reality that no matter how close you got, you’d always be waiting for someone else.

“I should’ve known it was too good to be true,” he thinks bitterly. “You have someone else. Someone waiting for you. And I’m just here… stuck in this endless loop, a broken bond yet hoping that maybe you could mend it back with yours.”

He sighs, closing his eyes, willing the ache in his chest to fade. “I can’t make her feel something she doesn’t. She deserves someone who’s meant for her. Someone who was fated to her.”

And with that thought, Kai drifts into a restless sleep, knowing the truth but still clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

The dream begins, as it always does: blurry, disorienting, filled with an overwhelming sense of longing that you can never quite explain. It’s the same every night—shapes and shadows, a silhouette that never seems to come into focus, no matter how hard you try to make it clear. It teases you, whispers to you of something important, something that feels like destiny—but you can never quite grasp it.

Tonight, though, something is different.

The figure in front of you seems to ripple, the darkness around it seeming to waver, like the world itself is holding its breath. Your pulse quickens as the shadow begins to shift, stretching into something more defined, as if the universe is finally granting you the clarity you've been waiting for.

You reach out instinctively, as though you could pull the figure into sharper focus, draw the mystery out of the murky fog surrounding it. Your heart pounds in your chest, the anticipation rising to a fever pitch. The details begin to sharpen, the edges of the form gradually becoming clearer with each passing moment. A figure, tall and broad-shouldered, standing just out of reach. You can almost make out the curve of their jaw, the shape of their lips.

But still, it’s not enough.

And then—just when you think you might burst from the pressure of waiting—the veil is lifted. The figure finally comes into full view, and you gasp.

It’s not a stranger. Not the faceless being you’ve been waiting for all this time.

It’s him.

Kai.

His features are unmistakable now. The curve of his smile, the sharpness of his eyes, the way he stands with that quiet confidence you’ve come to know so well. Your breath hitches, and for a moment, it feels like the ground beneath you has vanished. All the tension, all the confusion you've carried with you all this time, falls away as realization crashes into you like a tidal wave.

This isn’t just a dream. This is the truth, the answer to every question you've had for so long. The person you’ve been yearning for, the soulmate you've been waiting to meet—is Kai. He always has been.

And just as this revelation settles deep within you, a strange, familiar pull tugs at your chest. The world around you begins to dissolve, and you feel yourself being torn away from this clarity, back into the murkiness of sleep.

Across the expanse of sleep, Kai stirs in his own dream. For weeks, he’s been seeing a shadowy figure, indistinct, almost impossible to grasp, lingering just out of reach. In the beginning, he assumed it was his ex-soulmate, the one who had rejected him so painfully. That figure—still shrouded in mystery—haunted him every night, dredging up emotions he’d long buried.

But tonight… tonight, everything changes.

The figure in his dream shifts, becoming clearer in a way he’s never seen before. The edges grow sharper, the outline of the person coming into focus with each passing second. His breath hitches in his sleep as he tries to make sense of it. He reaches for the figure, just as he’s done so many times before, desperate for clarity.

And then, the figure’s face is unmistakable.

It’s you.

He sits up suddenly, heart hammering in his chest. The dream isn’t just a flash of the past anymore—it’s you. It always has been. The face he’s been searching for, the one that’s been haunting him in the shadows, was you. Not his ex. Not a distant memory.

The realization is so sudden, so sharp, it almost feels like a physical blow. The dream slips away, leaving him awake and breathless in his bed. His heart races, thumping painfully as he processes what he’s just learned. The figure he’s been seeing—he’d thought it was someone else, but it was you all along. The connection, the bond, the love he thought had been lost to him—it’s been with you from the beginning. He doesn’t know how but he isn’t complaining. For once it felt like the universe was listening to him.

You wake, your pulse still erratic, your mind tangled in the remnants of your dream. You stare at the ceiling, still reeling from the shock of seeing Kai in the dream so clearly. How did you not know? How did you miss it before?

And then, like a jolt of electricity, the buzzing of your phone breaks through the haze of your thoughts. You glance at the screen, seeing Kai’s name flash across it, and for a moment, you hesitate. Could he have…?

You pick up the phone, your voice trembling. “Hello?”

There’s a pause, heavy with the unspoken. You can feel the rawness in his voice before he even speaks. “I—” He swallows, the words difficult to form, you could hear him panting as if he just ran miles. “I need to see you. Can you open your door?”

Your heart skips. You already know. You both woke up with the same realization, and the gravity of it weighs down on you, pulling at your chest.

“I’ll be right there,” you manage to say, barely able to steady your breath.

You rush to the door, your pulse quickening as you open it before he even knocks. There he is, standing in the hallway, his form framed by the dim light from the corridor. His eyes meet yours, filled with a blend of vulnerability and uncertainty, and you feel the weight of everything unspoken between you. Without a word, he steps inside, the door softly closing behind him.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you is thick, a heavy fog of unspoken words and emotions. You can’t seem to catch your breath. Your mind is still spinning with everything you've just realized, and you feel his presence in a way you never have before.

Finally, Kai breaks the silence, his voice quiet but urgent. “I don’t know what this means for us,” he admits. “But I know that… I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

His words shake you, and you feel a lump form in your throat. You’ve been holding your emotions in check for so long, and now, standing here in the reality of what you’ve just learned, it feels like it’s all crashing down on you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you reply, your voice shaking. But then the doubt creeps in, and you can’t stop yourself from asking, “But… Kai, what if this isn’t just some dream? What if we’re just convincing ourselves it’s real?”

Kai steps closer, his gaze steady, unwavering. “We don’t need to convince ourselves, do we?” His voice is low, sincere. “What we have is real. It might not be the perfect soulmate connection we always imagined, but it’s ours. We’ve built something here. Haven’t we?”

The truth hits you like a wave. He’s right. Everything you’ve shared, everything you’ve felt—it’s not just fantasy. It’s real. And it has been all along. The bond between you is undeniable, even if it doesn’t fit the mold of what you thought soulmates should be.

“I guess… we don’t have to figure this out right now, do we?” you say, taking a step closer to him. “We can just… let it be.”

Kai’s smile is small, bittersweet, and filled with so much unsaid emotion. “Yeah. We can just let it be.”

And in that moment, you both understand. The connection between you, the pull you’ve both felt—it doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be real.

Kai reaches out, his hand tentative but sure. You don’t pull away. Instead, you let him take your hand, fingers weaving together in a silent promise. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending warmth racing through you, and you look up at him, the question hanging in the air between you.

Do you want this?

The answer is clear as you lean in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that is gentle, soft, as if you’re both tasting the truth for the first time. The kiss deepens, fueled by everything you’ve been holding back, the emotions you’ve been too afraid to voice. His arms pull you closer, and you lose yourself in the moment, in the warmth, in the certainty that, finally, everything has fallen into place.

When the kiss finally breaks, neither of you pulls away. You’re both breathless, your foreheads pressed together, feeling the weight of everything that has just shifted between you.

Kai’s voice is a whisper, barely audible, but you hear it clearly. “I’ve been waiting for this—for you—for so long.”

You smile softly, your hand over his heart, feeling the rhythm of it beneath your palm. “Me too,” you whisper back.

And in that moment, it all clicks. This isn’t just a kiss. This is the culmination of everything you’ve built. Everything you’ve both waited for. It’s not a fantasy anymore. It’s real. You’ve found each other.

The kiss lingers between you like the soft echo of a song you never wanted to end. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a silent admission, a wordless promise, a release of everything that has been building between you, unspoken and hidden. Kai pulls back just slightly, but the weight of his gaze on yours feels as if he’s reaching into the deepest corners of your soul. There’s something in his eyes, something that tells you everything, yet nothing at all.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” Kai begins, his voice a whisper, as fragile as the air between you. The tension in his voice—so raw, so vulnerable—sends a shiver through you. “Even before all of this… even before we realized what we meant to each other, I—” He stumbles over his words, his breath coming in shallow bursts, like someone standing on the edge of a precipice, afraid to fall.

You take a step closer, reaching for him, your hand finding his, grounding him, grounding yourself. You can feel his pulse, racing in sync with yours, the rhythm of your hearts mirroring the storm inside both of you. You offer him your silence, a soft encouragement that says everything without a word. “You can tell me anything, Kai,” you murmur, your voice steady, even as your heart flutters wildly within your chest.

He closes his eyes, as though gathering every shred of courage to speak the words that have been locked inside him for so long. Then, when his eyes meet yours again, they are filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts, and his next words come out like a confession he’s been carrying since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

“I’m falling for you,” he says, the words tumbling from his lips, as soft as the first rain of spring but as heavy as the storms they promise. “I think I have been for a while. And I… I don’t want to hide from it anymore.”

Your heart stops for a beat, and then it races, thudding loudly in your ears, so strong and steady that it feels like the sound of an ancient drum calling you home. Every part of you trembles at his admission, the truth of it sinking into your bones, as though he’s just pulled the rug out from under your feet and you’re left floating, weightless and free.

You can feel it too. You always have. It’s like a quiet fire, smoldering in your chest, a warmth that grows and flickers every time he’s near. And now, with his words, it explodes. The fire consumes you. You are lost in it, but somehow, it’s the only place you want to be.

“Kai,” you whisper, your voice shaky with the weight of your own confession. Your hands tremble as they reach up to touch his face, your fingers brushing against his skin like the softest touch of wind on a still day. “I’m falling for you too. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but…” The words catch in your throat, but you push them out, letting them flow like a river breaking free from its banks. “I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my life.”

The world seems to still in that moment. The doubts, the fears, the questions—they all vanish like smoke in the wind. There’s only the quiet certainty that settles in your chest, heavier than any burden you’ve carried before. You know this is right. You know it in the deepest part of your soul.

Kai’s smile is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb brushes over your cheek, so gentle, so tender, like a promise, like a vow. The warmth of his touch is the kind of warmth you’ve been searching for your whole life, the kind that fills every crack in your heart and makes it whole again. “We’re not alone anymore, are we?” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing hum in the quiet of the room.

“No,” you breathe, your voice steady now, stronger than you ever imagined it could be. “We’re not.”

In that simple exchange, something inside you both shifts. You no longer need to search for the answers to what’s been confusing you. You no longer need to chase what was never truly lost. The future is no longer an uncertain road ahead. It’s the path you’re walking together, one step at a time, hand in hand.

There’s a new understanding between you now, one that doesn’t require words. You’ve built something, not out of fate, but out of choice. You’ve created this bond from the ground up, in the moments where you bled and healed and trusted each other, even when it seemed like the world was telling you it wasn’t meant to be.

And just like that, you understand. Soulmates aren’t found in dreams. They’re not a perfect match sewn together by some divine plan. Soulmates are born from the jagged pieces of your life—broken, messy, imperfect—and when the time is right, those pieces fit together in a way that makes everything else fade away.

Soulmates are made in the waking world, when two people choose to find each other in the chaos, when they choose to heal the wounds of the past with the love they build from the ground up. They are made from the moments of doubt and pain, the moments of laughter and joy, and the quiet moments when you realize that this, this connection, is something you’ve created.

The kiss that follows is everything you’ve ever needed. It’s not just another kiss; it’s the culmination of years of searching, of longing, of waiting for the right person. It’s the promise of all the tomorrows you will share, and the soft surrender of all the yesterdays you’ve held onto.

When your lips finally part, you rest your forehead against Kai’s, breathing each other in, as if the world outside of this room has ceased to exist. His voice, a mere whisper, breaks the silence, but this time, there is no hesitation. “I’ve been waiting for this—for you—for so long.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but it’s not one of sadness. It’s a tear of release, of acceptance, of peace. You smile softly, the weight of your own heart finally finding rest. “Me too,” you whisper back, your voice full of everything you couldn’t say before.

Soulmates don’t have to be something you find—they are something you choose to become. Something you create, piece by piece, through every laugh, every tear, and every step you take together. And as you lean into Kai, your heart steady in its rhythm, you know this is just the beginning of a love that bends all odds, one that goes beyond fate’s grasp.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: It's here!! To be honest, I don't feel as proud with the finished product as I thought I was but I really hope you would still like it. I'm so proud to have put this idea to life and I couldn't have done it without the amazing people who also partook in this event. They are so talented and I had so much fun with them. Make sure to check out everyone else's stories and give them your thoughts too~ Happy Valentine's Day you lovelies <3

Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @imlonelydontsendhelp @ode2soob @pagelets @hoefororeo @sbnslver @missychief1404 @brrytears @saejinniestar @imlonelydontsendhelp @urlocal-moa @melmochii @somiaw @filmnings @sndvlmuriel4

[redux-iterum]

this might be silly to ask here, but i think you guys give neat advice! i don't know if either of you have experienced this yourselves, but if you have, how do you get over writing anxiety? i find that i place too much value in validation and will sometimes talk myself out of writing something because i fear it's imperfect. is this something either of you have dealt with? if so, how did you get over it?

Perfectionist anxiety is a bitch, and this very much sounds like it! The main piece of advice I can give here is to embrace the truth that things you make sometimes won’t be amazing, and will never be perfect. Perfection is a lie creatives tell themselves is achievable. It simply isn’t. All perfectionism can do is keep you from being happy during the process of making art. It will never do anything else. The concept of “perfect” is your enemy. It’s just going to make you miserable the whole time you’re writing or painting or whatever, because you know what you’ll get isn’t perfect, and you’re striving for it anyway, so you aren’t having fun. And really, that’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it? Fun?

The main thing that’s saved me from reworking stuff over and over again is a lesson I’ve learned, which is being able to say to yourself, “Well, it’s not exactly how I wanted it to be. I don’t know if I like this one. Oh well. Moving on.” There is an immense power in “oh well, moving on” that will keep you creating even when you make something you actively hate. That’s not to say you shouldn’t strive for improvement, nor should you not attempt to do your best. What the goal here is, is the ability to step back from your need for perfection, look over what you’ve made, and be able to both critique it and accept its flaws, and then head off to the next thing. “Fuck it” is your greatest tool here. Ain’t the next Lord of the Rings? Fuck it. Next story.

Take it this way: you’ve learned something new every time you catch a flaw in your writing, which means you’ll do better next time. You are always scaling up in quality as long as you’re seeking to improve. Again, you will never be perfect, but you will be better than you were before. That’s something to celebrate, not scold yourself for! And the only way to do that is to say “fuck it” and keep writing. You can’t think yourself into greatness. You have to create okay stuff first and learn from those mistakes.

As for validation: attention from strangers is nice, but there’s a good exposure therapy in posting something and receiving crickets over and over. You get used to it and gradually learn to lessen its value in your head. I’ve personally been able to adjust to not getting much attention on my personal projects and art that I love so dearly, and just moving forward anyways, because I’m excited to do it, and that’s whose opinion I should care about. It’s the love of the game at this point for me. Importantly, it’s been able to teach me to find the true value in art, which is the process of creation, not the creation itself. I utterly adore making things, to the point that I don’t even really care about the end product anymore or the attention it may or may not get. Sure, I want it to be good and get notes, but what’s the point if I’m not enjoying myself while making it? What’s the value in perfection and attention when I’m miserable because that's all I'm doing this for? I’m the one that loves these characters and this setting the most, right? What else can I do but serve them as best as I can, and keep going as long as I need to? It's no loss if the entire internet doesn't love it the way I do. I'm creating it, and that makes me happy. What else need there be?

That’s how I think of it, at least. I hope this helped a little.

[magiturge]

i just wanna say. thsnk u so much for having such a fire music taste. i listened to all tghe sherhank songs and theyre all so fire. also can u go in depth about supersonics? (also do u have any playlists i can klisten to or more songs? these are all fire my goat)

supersonics ( linked for others to follow along ) serves to be sheriff's perspective in a sort of drunk way.

discussion under cut

for supplementary information, i hc sheriff to be self medicate with alcohol / is a functioning alcoholic due to his circumstances stressing him out with little outlet to his problems. this is also in reference to one of his voice lines being 'pass the whiskey'.

the whole song has a sort of jaunty dance feel, like a duo dancing around each other. it sorta punches you in the face, and its loose and cheerful. that's why it comes from sheriff's perspective in a drunken way, it's all a good numbing feeling, it's honest. it's a messy dance with a desperate elegance to keep going, it's an up and down with a hanging grip, feet kicking in the air.

it's a drunk cowboy's fun time

ill provide the particular punchy sound im referring to in the form of the original audio and version of that spinning gif i made : ) "You don’t really know what goes on That’s why all this looks like a perfect mess"

best in reference to the entire situation being a secret for the most part to everybody as much as sheriff can possibly keep it up. sheriff walks and weaves an image for himself that everything is just as it is, nothing as changed, things are functioning the same as they have been for the past however many years. it's a messy sector but it's the same as always, it's a perfect mess and you don't really know what's going on.

-

"Freaks come out until the lights go on And it feels so good when I lose my head"

the freaks ( both him and hank ) come out until the lights ( eyes of others ) come on. i dont really know how to describe this part right but hank is sort of an unraveller for sheriff. there is something.... ( does some gestures ) really intimate and vulgar about the way those two dance around each other, and that dance is thrilling even if terrifying for sheriff, it feels good, to lose his head ( lose a sense of ratoinale for awhile ).

-

"What a bad habit Hard to scrap Knockin' at my door It can’t be stopped no more What a bad habit Hard to scrap Knockin' at my door It can’t be stopped no more"

the chorus of supersonics can refer to both sheriff's issue with drinking or to his 'bad habit' of continuously meeting with hank, of getting more intimate and tender with them, growing more attached to them and further taking them into who he is, as much a part of his identity as he is.

it's hard to let go of this. for how i write sheriff, he's emotionally repressed as a result of having to keep his head straight on leading the MERC faction instead of living as normal as a nevada life can be. he was just a guy before this selling mattresses. part of that emotional repression comes from the pressure he feels from jeb.

jeb is scary to him. he's a friendly face, not a friend.

it is so hard for sheriff to let go of this despite knowing how many cons there are to getting so involved with hank, it's a bad habit. it's hard to scrap. it's knocking at his door ( traversing the body of his fortress ) and it can't be stopped anymore. :9

his problem with drinking is also hard to kick, he has little comfort to his situation and his artificially planted sense of leadership on the men in MERC makes it hard for him to open up proper to any of them. even though he's sociable, he's emotionally closed from responsibility.

-

"It’s so easy, won’t you come along? Just lose yourself with the side effects"

a lot of the songs that i gave in that one ask can come with 'fake' lines from hank in the sense of, it's sheriff's mind thinking of things hank is saying to him but hank never says it. it's like an image of hank in his mind murmuring things at him, like he's a concept more than he is a person.

hank is like temptation to him. it is so easy for hank to not care about others, to regard people like tools and keep moving forward because it's almost like that's how it was meant to live. lose yourself in the side effects, just indulge in what else there is that comes with this.

get messy in the dirt, be greedy, be selfish, you're a rock in their stream and they're eroding you. it's as much a part of you as you are to yourself. lose it. lose it. lose it. lose it.

-

in terms of the second part of your ask, i don't have any playlists even though i probably SHOULD be making playlists. i forget songs a lot.

also i don't know what songs to reccommend, my taste is like, out over there sometimes.

so i'll give you this, this, this, this, this, and this.

they are probably not part of the same genre of music, but i like all of them. and i dont remember what i put in those links now, so they are as much of a surprise to me as they will be to you. if you like any of them, idk let me know lol

[luckypunklemonade]

2/14

“Second guess these words of mine, I always thought that I’d be fine with you. But ever since we crossed that line…”

[Implied smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; mutual first time; 2k words] You made a decision with your best friend, Stiles Stilinski, that it was logical to be each other's first time. After all, you trusted each other, and, well, it made you both safer.

an: I love this concept, but I wanted to get this out today, so It's sort of rushed, sorry :( Happy Valentine's Day :)

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

It started just so we could both get out of the victim pool. Another supernatural event killing off virgins. Shocker. So, naturally, I proposed the idea to Stiles. One of my closest friends who also happened to be a virgin. I trusted him, had known him for years, and knew he’d also hopefully see the logic in it. It’s not like he could make fun of me. I’ve seen him say and do much more embarrassing things. I won most debates because of that. It was starting to become a problem now that it had happened, though.

“Do you remember what this hieroglyphic is?”

Studying a new round of killings in Beacon Hills, the category was Egyptian, and the suspect was a Sphinx demon. Having had a bit of a fixation as a child, I could be of help. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A bird–a stork.” 

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, my hand pulling his shoulder back toward me so I could get a better look. I got the answer out, “Amenophus,” but his cologne cut me off after that. The scent only reminded me of him in my bed, softly and awkwardly humming to try and make it less awkward as he tried to figure out how to take my bra off. He was sort of hugging me, his head next to mine as he peered over my shoulder at his own hands, fiddling with the clasp. He laughed, “I can’t figure this shit out. I don’t know how this is allowed. It’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

I laughed into his shoulder, glad he could tell I was nervous and that he wasn’t making it a big deal. “It’s nothing like that. Here, I can–”

My heart seemed to drop with the weight of anxiety as I felt him finally succeed. He noticed, holding the bra together between my shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just nervous.”

“Hey, me too.” I scoffed. He was more likely excited or just wanting this to be over. Stiles tilted his head and brought it back to look at me. “I’m serious. You couldn’t feel my hand shaking? Why do you think I had so much trouble undoing this freaking restraint?”

“Oh, so you’re otherwise an expert?”

“I can figure out a Rubix cube, puzzle boxes, secret Celtic runes; I think I can figure out how to take off a bra.” “You saw it in porn.” Stiles leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, an embarrassed frown audible in his answer, “Yup.”

Now, all I could notice were things that made me think about him above me in my bed. The way he sat down on Scott’s couch, getting comfortable by pushing his hips up to settle back down into the seat. I realized just how determined he was in his endeavor with me when I noticed his ‘focused’ face the other day and matched it to the one he was making as he stared down at me. He would scratch his forearm, and I’d think of him sliding it beneath me to help me get comfortable, and then his voice as we talked each other through the nerves.

We’ve been close for forever, but I never realized how often I touch him mindlessly until it felt like static every time I did it. My hand twitched as it rested on his back, for the first time wanting to ease up to the back of his head and play with his hair. A lot of things were the same, and it just felt like I was the problem. I felt like I was reading too far into my own emotions. Of course, I’d be a little frazzled and attached to my first time, but I had to remind myself I see him every day. He’s one of my best friends. This confusion will blow over.

Valentine’s Day was coming up. He should get you something, right? I mean, yeah, you guys aren’t dating, but you were each other’s first time. You were best friends. Does this qualify as friends with benefits? He wished he had asked before things settled back into normalcy–when he woke up with your head on his chest. It’s the week of. He could use a conversation with you about this. Friends for seven years, he knew Valentine’s Day was your second favorite holiday behind Halloween. Not because you’d ever had a valentine, but because you loved the definition you gave it. You did that to everything. Even if there was a preconceived understanding, you defined everything. He might’ve been the only one to notice. He loved your version of Valentine’s Day. You dress up, you curl your hair, do your makeup. You take the morning to get yourself coffee, listen to music, and be with yourself. You always came back with donuts for your friends because the day was about love in every aspect. 

He needed to do something. Love in every aspect, right? Even in the weird, unsure, sort-of-still-stuck-on-you-when-he-shouldn’t-be way? He was a little late to be planning too much. You weren’t really a candy or chocolates girl; seven years of friendship, and you only had a select few stuffed animals; you liked to read, but the only thing he knew about the romance genre was that you didn’t read it often because it was getting more and more difficult to execute correctly. So, you stuck to the books you both needed to blow dust from, certain classics, banned books, and miscellaneous genres on your “To Be Read” list.  Whatever he did, he was going to try and be cool about it.

He spent the day before Valentine’s Day in his kitchen practicing. The sheriff came home to his son washing a sink full of dishes and trying to force-feed him his dish. When his critique was satisfactory, Stiles let his dad go to bed and kept washing dishes. He set his alarm a little earlier than usual and went to bed, reassuring himself that he should show you he was thankful. You kind of made sure he wasn’t brutally sacrificed and, of course, that he got laid. And he did learn a few things about sex. Everything real so far, actually. Now that he thought about it, everything he knew was applicable to you. It wasn’t just girls in general who liked it when he made sure their hair was out of their face, it was you, and he did it because he knew you didn’t like your hair in your face. He was going to have trouble associating sex with anyone else for a while, at least. Or thinking about much else around you. 

Of course, you took a late start from school, which left Stiles to think about you and what he should do for you more. When you showed up, he was in the hallway talking to Scott, walking down the stairs. He stopped talking, not at all helping Scott’s already unbearably correct assumption that you and him slept together. He stared at you as you glowed your way through the hallway. He stared at your red lipstick and the ribbon tying your hair out of your face, a job he wanted to do instead at that moment. How satisfying would it be if he walked down that hall and slung his arm around you? How good would it make him feel to walk around that day with a red kiss print on his cheek? On his neck. All over his goddamn face if you felt like it. 

You saw him and grinned, holding up a bag of donut holes. He nodded, swallowing the urge to call you “honey” down. Partly because that was weird and partly because “Sunshine” fit you better at that moment. Before you reached him and Scott, you handed out the respective treats to Lydia and Allison, checking in on them once again after the latest test to the pack’s mental health. By the time you turned back to them, he was already following Scott to meet you. 

His hands kept waking me up. On the sides of my arms, on my hips, my shoulders. I kept sitting up in bed and missing the feeling by milliseconds. It wasn’t ceremonious by any means, but it meant a lot to me. Not just because he did it, but because of how he did it. He made sure it felt right. He didn’t lose me in awkward silence, he encouraged me to speak up. After a while, I did the same. It was awkward, but I knew it would be. We just laughed it off. His fingers didn’t go through my hair smoothly at first, but he took the time to brush them out. I didn’t quite know how to lie down for him, but he had made me comfortable enough so that I felt okay asking. “Here,” he said as his hands guided my shoulders down, cradling my head before it hit the pillows. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t ask for it. I wanted to pull him down by the back of his neck and feel him kiss my head deeper into the pillows. His hands would wander further and get distracted, and he’d let go and forget the reason we were doing it in the first place. We were holding hands. He was mumbling questions for me as he lined himself up. Why shouldn’t I know what he tastes like? 

You’re wearing the smile you always have when you do something nice. A little flustered as you hand people gifts or compliment them. The smile that kept distracting him when you walked up the bleachers with his number painted on your cheek. It was only the second game he was starting in, but he had your full support, even in the freezing weather. Lacrosse season is in winter, which is also sick season. You got sick this year, of course, and you showed up to two games with a cold. He met you after the game, trying not to cough on any proud parents. He was sweating, and you were shivering. With a congested cough, you gave him a thumbs up, and he sent you home to get some rest.

Now, you had a content look on your face, sort of like how you looked when you slept, watching your friends dig into your gifts. Stiles started walking, tapping your shoulder and nodding his head toward an empty classroom. You followed, not without hearing your friends giggle. When you both got away into the classroom, he turned quickly.

“Come to my house tonight. I don’t know if it’d be weird, but I sort of have this whole thing planned. If you think it’s weird, you don’t have to come, I just wanted to find a way to- to thank you, but if today wasn’t the right move–” “You planned something?” “I know just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re dating. I know we didn’t do it because of that, but I keep getting this feeling like I…”

He stared at you, not worried about ruining the friendship, but terrified you didn’t feel how he felt. “I feel like I want us to be dating after. I know it’s probably because it was my first time and I feel attached or whatever.”

“You feel that, too? I thought it was just– well, yeah.”

“You–” He watched you nervously stare at the ground. 

“You know we never kissed? You were my first time and we never kissed.”

“I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles leaned in and you knew. He kissed you gently, just pressing his lips against yours before you pulled away, eyes widening. “Oh, shit.” You wiped his mouth with your sleeve, your red lipstick nearly staining his chin. You made sure to wipe as much as you could off without smudging it. Stiles flinched away and stopped you, “I want it.”

“I got it all. You can’t walk around like that. Am I good?”

He checked for smudging and softly wiped the side of your lip, “You’re great. I can walk around like that and proudly, too. Watch.”

You stopped him before he could kiss you again, laughing away the flush in your cheeks. He saw it regardless. “Uhm…Here. This’ll be more managable.” 

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it, leaving your red kiss print on the back of his hand. Stiles admired it for a good thirty seconds before beaming up at you. When you promised to kiss him the right way at his house that night, he finally nodded and followed you back out into the hallway. 

I opened the door and took my shoes off, hearing a small sound of panic from within the house. Stiles had heard me come in, running around the kitchen on a mission. Sitting where he told me, I was faced with two generic three-wick candles. He doesn’t exactly own a candelabra, I smiled to myself. Stiles had the food plated, he was just cleaning the area before bringing it out. I stood up to help, laughing when he whipped around and ordered me to stop, but continued into the kitchen. I didn’t stop laughing as I slipped past him to grab a few miscellaneous things off of the counter or when he took them out of my hands and backed me against the counter. “Stay there,” He said as he turned to put more utensils in the sink. He turned back to hold my shoulders because I was moving again. I smiled and caught him off guard, pressing my lips to his. 

Admittedly, I should have been more considerate and wiped my lipstick off, but I liked the idea of how he’d look. His hands went slack on my shoulders, dropping to my waist. My nerves surged when I felt him hum into my lips. My heart rushed when he took the chance to deepen the kiss, the enthusiasm he put into it pushing my head back into his hand. I mirrored his movements as I slid my hand up to his shoulders. His face was tight with eagerness when I pulled away. He swallowed, lips pressing together. I then noticed my lipstick smudged across his mouth. It strayed above his lips in a hazy pink. I could only imagine what I looked like. I held in a laugh, which he met until we couldn’t. My laugh lasted longer while he focused on the red smeared on my chin. He pulled out his phone, holding it up to his face to take a picture. 

“C’mere,” He mumbled, pressing his cheek to mine and snapping a picture of our mouths, both messy with my lipstick. I hid my face until he led me to my seat again, taking away my napkin so I knew he wanted us to sit together and eat with both of our mouths covered in smudged lipstick.

[kyupidos]

02/14/25 — twisted wonderland <3

lean into your touch — summary. ‘riddle wants to confess to you. he’s trying not to lean into your touch, but he quite likes your presence.”

characters ;; riddle rosehearts , tags ;; reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), romantic fluff

a/n ( OHH ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I WROTE A FIC…oh boy…so this isn’t the best i think, i’m sowwy..but i wanted to get something out for valentine’s day! i intended to write for way more characters than just riddle, but riddle’s was getting so long ( for my taste at least ) and i’ve already been plagued w terrible writer’s block ( hence my break cough ). but hey what’s not to love about riddle and romance <3 i’ll write for other characters w the same concept when i get the chance at least! / oh, and i’m kinda switching up the format?? idk if u can tell.

more under cut!

r. rosehearts

a classical romantic, as expected of riddle. he prepares some roses from the heartslabyul gardens, and spends hours in the mirror of his room practicing a rough draft of the romantic things he has to say to you; because sevens knows he’d end up tripping up here and there if he winged it, and he wants to impress you.

it’s a shame it doesn’t work, though, because of course your presence on such a romantic day gets him flustered when he thinks about the more intimate ideas he shied away from, like going on a secret rendezvous or..’kabedon’ing’? you to confess his love like how he’s read before in romance novels given to him by trey to “study” for his plans with you today.

he succeeds at first, only to be silenced by you getting a bit too close to him, causing his heart to flutter as you just as quickly take hold of his hand, craftily navigating the maze as if you’d practiced going along this specific route.

it was then the two of you were met with one of the maze’s gazebos in a more open area, but to his surprise, it was decorated with a plethora of over the top valentines decorations. in the center, as the two of you approached for easier viewing, he noticed, a little tea set with tea already prepared—still hot, he noticed from the steam emitting from the tea pot, and he can’t help but wonder how far you’d planned this without him knowing.

finally, you bring him to sit beside you, only now letting go of his hand now that you finished guiding him ( though he leaned into the hand hold in defiance for just a split second before realizing how ‘scandalous’ it was ).

“riddle, i know i interrupted your speech, sorry..” you began, and his eyes lit up in slight recognition at the fact you seemed to already be aware of what he was originally planning. “i just wanted a change of scenery i guess!”

riddle immediately nodded his head stiffly, as you prepared the tea for the both of you, and he didn’t fail to notice how you did so while following the tea related rules.

“yes, yes of course..because it’s the most romantic day of the year, correct?”

and just like that, riddle was flustered again as you seemed to smile at him in as much genuinity and warmth you could muster, as if you were congratulating him for getting it ‘correct’.

“exactly!” your smile seemed to grow bigger, and riddle questioned to himself if that was a possible thing, as he looked a bit down from your eyes to notice how you seemed to be a bit nervous and flustered yourself. “you see riddle, since it’s valentines and i’ve been meaning to tell you, i-“

“allow me to finish what i had to say before, [y/n],” he blatantly interrupts, and you wonder if he’s getting back at you for when you did so the first time.

he takes one of the biscuits from the basket laid on the side of the table, and he notes how it doesn’t taste exactly like how trey made it. in fact, it was much more likely you made it yourself, and that alone made him more elated of how far you went for this moment.

“[y/n], i adore you,” and he says this through a shiver down his spine, but he sits up a little more proudly when he notices your more flustered appearance. “and i’d be more than happy if you would be my partner…from now to forever.”

you didn’t respond immediately, but got closer to him, in his personal space as if the table between the two of you didn’t exist in the first place.

“riddle…can i kiss you?” and then you continued, as his breath hitched at the moment, “because i love you too.”

que another moment of stiffness and reddening of his face, which you made a face at that was clearly meant to tease him. he can’t find it in himself to be mad about it, though.

“o-oh…yes, of course! since we’re beloveds now..”

and the moment he approved, you suddenly were leaning in just enough to give him a soft kiss on the lips, before slowly pulling away, leaving him to unconsciously try to lean in to your touch again, before making the choice to control himself as you got up from your chair to approach him more personally.

“let’s go on our own official date then, yeah?”

and this time, he more selfishly leans into your touch as he takes the initiative to hold your hand in his own, joining you as he stood up.

“of course, my…” and he hesitates a bit before you nod, and suddenly he’s much calmer. “my dear. let’s head off then, shall we? i have a much better place for the two of us to spend our time.”

it didn’t go quite as planned, riddle thinks to himself as this time he’s the one who guides you, but at the very least, he can lean into your touch without fail.

thank u for reading!! likes n comments are appreciated!!

[strawberrystepmom]

okay but the intimacy and trust of letting your lover attend to your personal grooming is something soooo magical to me

letting them shave your pubic hair, your legs spread wide on the side of the bathtub while they’re kneeling in front of you.

when they offered to help you out you felt embarrassed and flustered but undeniably thrilled by the level of attention something like that takes. the sight of their narrowed eyes and the tip of their tongue poking out of their mouth in concentration quickly takes you from flustered to hot. your glance down at them grows heavy and arousal beads out of your spread cunt, diluting the shaving cream enough it runs between your thighs.

if they notice your arousal they only smirk at it, mixing it with the shaving cream and spreading it over your lips. precise, careful strokes of a razor everywhere you usually make them performed by the person loves you, knows you, sees you the most.

by the time they reach for the shower head to rinse you off, you’re already squirming and the warm water hitting your clit makes you moan aloud.

“aww, did you like that?”

the clean you off, everything running down the drain. your eyes roll back in your head when the pressure of the water is replaced with the press of warm lips against your tender bundle of nerves instead, back arching. lips kiss you, fingers spread you wider, a tongue laps at your freshly shaven skin like the soft flesh of a ripe peach.

[papsiguesss]

Boyfriend in a bottle. Smash open for emergencies!

(I. I’m getting wrapped up in another Hammer Husbands AU aren’t I. Well fuck.)

(Also rugged sailor Lee reveal? 👀👀)

[algolagniaa]

help why is no one ever normal about me

[macksartblock]

I’m being very regular about the convergence of interests right now.

[kavehayati]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[shima-draws]

Mhmm. Got new OC ideas on the brain. It’s basically the trope of “I thought I lost you when we were kids but you’ve actually been by my side now that we’re adults yet I was too fucking STUPID to realize it was you all along” which is like. MWAH chef’s kiss 😩👌