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suntoru · 2 years

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✧˖°. PRINCESS TREATMENT ONLY!

summary: genshin men being huge simps and spoiling u every chance they get <3

feat. diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, childe, kazuha kaedehara, scary mooch, xiao, thoma, ayatoe, al-haitham, kaveh

a/n: i swear i was working on the masterlist but the brainrot finally got to me hnghhhh

warnings: gn but feminine implications (ie. princess treatment, reader wears heels and makeup, passenger princess), simping for reader, maybe ooc? swearing, fluff, some are modern aus, maybe innuendos?

─ ✰ DILUC is the gentleman we all deserve in our lives. if it’s raining outside, he’ll make sure to protect you from the wetness! he makes sure you’re fully bundled up in his coat, and that when he’s walking you home, the umbrella is fully covering you. oh, his shoulder’s getting wet? that’s fine, a little bit of water never hurt anyone. but if it happens to you? all hell breaks loose. what if you get sick from the rain? are you feeling alright? do you need medicine? a doctor? and if you’re in a modern au, he’ll definitely let you be the passenger princess 🥰 you can take naps, eat snacks, and pick all the songs! you don’t ever have to worry about giving him directions, you can just do whatever you want. he even installs led lights in his car so you can take asthetic pictures <3 if you’re tired, don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine alone, take your beauty sleep :) he drives you anywhere you want, no questions asked! you want to go to his mansion? you’ll be there in ten. grocery store? sure. nail salon? he’ll even accompany you to get your nails done just so you won’t be alone, pays for everything too!

─ ✰ KAEYA is absolutely whipped for you. to most people, he’s the town flirt, and a drunkard, but to you, he’s the most caring and softest person you’ve ever met, even if it’s hidden under layers of hurt. if you go out drinking with him, and come back drunk, he’ll carry you bridal style back home. pressing your body closer to his, he makes sure to prop your head so your neck won’t get sore. and if you wear makeup, he won’t put in the low effort to wipe your face with a makeup wipe, he’ll do your whole skincare routine for you! first, he uses makeup remover to take everything off, then, gently, he massages the cleanser into your skin and washes it off. he applies your creams and serums, making sure to be as tender as possible, even if you whine that all you want to do is go to sleep. he soothes you, whispering that all he needs is ten more minutes to brush your teeth and get you changed so you’ll feel clean in the morning. and for the hangover in the morning? he makes you special soup and showers you himself so you don’t even have to lift a finger.

─ ✰ CHILDE loves spoiling you whenever he gets the chance to. other people might think it’s just another sugar baby dynamic, but in truth, it’s far from it. it’s a selfless love, not just based on materialistic items. but even then, he’s willing to sacrifice his time and money for you. you’re his baby and his top priority always, no matter what. are you hungry? well, get ready, because he just booked a reservation at the highest star restaurant in town! you’re having a bad day? no problem, he’ll send one of the lower ranking fatui members to do the dirty work and he’s coming home early! he’ll bring home a large bouquet of flowers and a cute stuffie to match. you need new clothes? he’s driving you to all your favourite stores on his card <3 his wallet is practically bottomless, so don’t be afraid to spend what you want! a couple thousand mora is nothing to him if he can see your frowning pout turn into the pretty smile he loves so much. he even carries all your bags for you without asking! he can’t have his darling getting tired after all :(( just as long as after you give him a smooch on the lips and an hour of cuddles, the only payment he’ll accept (´∀｀)♡

─ ✰ KAZUHA, even after years of being in a relationship, still finds ways to give you butterflies in your stomach. when you come back into your quiet home after a long night, too exhausted to take care of yourself, he leads you to a chair and sits you down. he ever so delicately unlaces your heels for you, taking his time doing so, but don’t worry! you won’t ever be bored. if the silence is too much, he’ll ask you how your day was, talk about his, and spill all the tea that happened on the crux. and if your feet are tender, he’ll massage them gently so they won’t be sore in the morning :(( he’s putting the utmost care and effort into whatever he’s doing for you, and that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. he still opens doors for you, dedicates hundreds, if not thousand of poems and haikus to you, and never fails to make you feel loved. he’d never forget an important date, even if you don’t mention it for months before! he always asks for your hand, and when you place it in his with a knowing smile, he gives you a fairytale-like kiss on the top, making sure to peck every little fingertip in the process.

─ ✰ SCARAMOUCHE never thought he’d bow down to anyone again in his lifetime. he’s trained every little bit of himself to be the most powerful, the strongest being he could so he’d never have to go through that humiliation. but yet here he is, tucking away his ego and pride, bending down on the ground for you. yes, he may grumble, telling you to hurry up, and that he doesn’t have all day, but the fact that he’s basically submitting to you speaks for itself. you taught him what love meant, healing, and promised that you’d never leave him, and for that, you have his eternal loyalty. as you climb on his back, he gently hooks your legs against his arms as he stabilizes both of you. the proximity of your face resting against his neck causes him to go up in flames, throwing his oversized hat on your head, telling you to hold on to it for him. but really he’s hoping the large structure obstructs his rosy cheeks. he does every little ‘embarrassing’ thing for you, from painting his nails barbie pink to being shrek for your matching halloween costumes. if his younger self were to look back at him, he simply wouldn’t believe it, but now, he wouldn’t even consider the possibility of even saying no to you.

─ ✰ XIAO never, ever, takes you adventuring with him, simply because he believes someone as precious as you shouldn’t risk getting hurt and scuffed up. so instead, he brings you little gifts that he sees while adventuring. a glaze lily, protective adepti charms, and almond tofu are all gifts that he’s brought to you before. he’s also much softer with you, never raising his voice and being cautious about his choice of words. if you ever get caught in a physical situation with him, automatically he moves to stand in front of you, one arm protectively circling your waist, pulling you closer to him. being xiao’s s/o, you also get special privileges. while he answers most who call his name, if you even utter his in a whisper, he’ll be there in a heartbeat, no matter if it’s an emergency or not. whether you called him to join your tea party, or if you are in the slightest bit of danger, he’ll be there. he also trusts you more than his logic, even if everyone else is against you. if you’re in a scuffle with other humans, he makes sure to hear both sides, but his heart already knows who’s right. whether there are 100 witnesses who all say you’re wrong, he’ll still believe you anyways.

─ ✰ THOMA is absolute malewife material, no questions asked. sometimes, if he’s not busy in the mornings, he’ll surprise you with breakfast in bed without a special occasion. he’ll peck your cheek and give you a soft ‘good morning’ as to not break the sleepy trance you’re in, carefully placing the tray onto the nearest nightstand. whenever he’s around, he does all your chores too, from washing the dishes, to dusting the house and sweeping the floors. you wom’t even have to lift a finger, he goes as far to make lunch too! since he’s not home by then, usually somewhere in the kamisato estate, he leaves handwritten sticky notes on each lunch box he gives you. he fills them with messages like, “the perfume you wore smells good today!” “your smile is blinding, my ray of sunshine” or “you’re gorgeous always, my lovely.” never once is a message repeated, he believes someone as special as you deserves to hear something unique each day. he even goes as far to make your food cute! he’s made panda shaped onigiri’s, cat-like dango’s… all because you asked him once, it’s become a tradition now.

─ ✰ AYATO never leaves you bored when he goes to one of his meetings. his maids set up a spa day, complete with a makeover and evening gown to go with it, but it’s just not the same without your husband :( thankfully, being the significant other of the head of the yashiro commission has its own perks. for instance, you can walk around like you own the place and join in on in his meetings, albeit later you might get punished by ayato for interrupting, but really, he doesn’t mind. seated on his lap, you play with his fingers and let out a quiet huff. why did you think this was a good idea again? what they’re talking about is so boring, you’re beginning to regret your desicion to join ayato, wishing to be soaking in the tub with a face mask again. thankfully, shortly after, he cuts the conference short, apologizing and telling them he has more pressing matters to attend to. you lead him straight home holding his hand, giddy that he’ll join another one of your salon days. he makes sure to pamper you, giving you a massage and washing your hair for you, praising you for being so patient, even if you were the reason the meeting ended early.

─ ✰ AL-HAITHAM, i headcanon, thinks he’s being subtle with putting up with your shenanigans, but he couldn’t be farther off. he might seem indifferent on the outside, but he cares much more than you might think. can’t sleep? just wake him up at 3am, he’ll wrap you in a blanket burrito and read to you until you fall asleep! just got your nails done? he’ll carry all of your books, what else would he need his giant man boobs muscles for? he revolves around you, as if you are the sun and he the earth. and god forbid if you’re ever mad at him, his whole life comes tumbling down. although if you can’t see it in his facial expression, all of his rationality goes flying out the window. he’s snappier than usual, getting annoyed at the littlest of inconveniences. even if you’re in the wrong, he’ll still apologize first, he just wants you to start talking to him again 😢 if you have conditions to making up, he follows them all to the tee. give you one kiss for every hour he’s made you upset? done. buy you the newest line of makeup or skincare? absolutely. cook dinner for the next two weeks? he already does that.

─ ✰ KAVEH is placed 1st on the list of simps. just pout your lips and whimper a “pretty please?”, he’s down bad. he lets you braid, curl, and play with his hair whenever you want, even if it was already styled in the beginning. he lets you steal all of his clothes, who cares if he’s worn the same thing five times in the past week? you look so adorable in his white shirt, he can’t complain. oh, and if you don’t like his style? he’ll let you pick out his clothes and style him yourself, he’ll stand there patiently for you like a mannequin <3 technically it’s not allowed, but he shows you all of his top secret projects and all the cool things he’s doing, you’re the only one allowed in his office! oh, what’s this? you want him to do your makeup? just give him a week, he’ll perfect cat eyeliner, lip liner and blending eyeshadow colors for you! after you’re done, he lets you do his makeup too, praising you for your talent. even if the blush is patchy, foundation cakey and lip gloss smudged, he still thanks you endlessly with unlimited cuddles and a new handbag matching his briefcase!

©hawkssimpsblog 2023.

15K notes · View notes

forlix · 9 months

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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words��6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

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inkonparchment · 2 months

Text

re2r!Leon x college student!Reader.

isn't it just good manners to warn the cute biker about the cop car that's always stationed a few blocks over?

You bounce the shopping basket in your hands, eyes working around the grocery aisle underneath the harsh allure of the florescent lights. A carton of milk, a bag of chips, two sodas, a popcorn bucket and a bag of clementines just so your mom won't hop on the next flight to land right in front of your dorm room chastising about your eating habits.

Milk was healthy, too, right? Maybe not with the sugary cereal you're in search for, but at least it gets the calcium in your system, so who are you to complain.

Where was this darned cereal though? You're surely in the correct aisle, seeing lines of other boxes occupying the shelves, right next to all the jams, jellies and preserves colouring the dull gray of the counters. Taking a few steps back, you finally spot it at the very top and to your dismay, it is a lonesome box pushed to the very back.

You huff out an annoyed breath, securing the basket on your forearm. You're not leaving without that box or you're sure that you will not be eating any dinner for the next ten days.

But try as you might, you can't reach it. It doesn't help that you're on the tip of your toes, hand stretched up to an impossible length as your fingers are unable to even graze its surface.

You must look silly, thanking your luck that the store is empty, save for the cashier but he can't spot you from his counter. Unless he's chuckling in amusement through the security camera. Your dignity would have to take a backseat right now, this was more important than some middle aged man's amusement.

"Um, hey."

That makes you freeze, hand still up in the air, heels lifted at least four inches off the ground and your head turned in the direction away from where the muffled voice came from. With herculean effort, you twist your face, mouth opening slightly in horror as your eyes meet the man who had gently called out to you.

Washed out jeans, a black tee and a leather jacket in a colour so dark so you can't tell if it's blue as well or black. A helmet hides his face from you, sitting snuggly on his head with the visor tipped up that allows you to see his cool, blue eyes, the pale skin underneath pushed up as though the helmet was squeezing his cheeks.

You would have thought how adorable it looked but nothing mattered to you right now as you were horrified by being caught in your 'no one will see me' outfit by a cute biker. You know for sure now that someone somewhere is laughing at you. Maybe it is the cashier.

"I'm not gonna let you have this last box," You hear yourself blurt out defensively and as the words are out in the air, you want to slap yourself. Because apparently you hadn't embarrassed yourself enough.

His eyes crinkle, a chuckle making his chest vibrate. "Oh no, don't worry I wouldn't dream of it." He switches the gatorade and one stick of protein bar to his left hand. "I uh was just going to offer if I could get that for you?"

"Oh," You say stupidly, "Yeah please, that would be great." And finally you peel yourself away from the shelves and step back, feeling your skin get hot with embarrassment.

Nodding, he covers the distance easily with two strides, reaches up and plucks out the box without an hassle. "Ah, the elusive cereal box. They really should install step stools for us vertically challenged folks."

You raise your eyebrows, unable to stop the laugh that leaves your lips making your shoulders relax. "Us? I don't see you struggling to reach the top."

He winks at you. "I was just saying that to make you feel better." He holds the box out to you, "You know these are very sugary."

"Well I happen to like sweet things," You settle the cereal in your basket. "And that's why I also have the clementines to balance things out."

He laughs, shaking his head. For someone who speaks so softly and sweetly, it amazes you how much space he takes up in the aisle. All tall and broad, filling out his jacket in a way that has you fighting to not stare at the way his biceps are straining against the leather. And you feel your cheeks getting warmer, "What?"

"You're a college student?" He asks.

You wince, "My eating habits are that bad that it gave me away so quick?"

He blinks, tilting his head to the side as he gestures to the sweatshirt you have on with your college name stitched on so clearly with a maroon thread.

You look down and the urge to slap yourself returns. Great, another opportunity to embarass yourself and you decided not to pass it up. Bye-bye dreams of becoming someone's backpack. "Right," You cough, clasping the handles of the basket with both of your hands, "Yeah uh I go to college here. Are you a student too?"

To your surprise, he shakes his head, "No I work nearby."

Before you can ask where, you feel your phone buzz loudly in your pocket. Once. Twice. And then thrice. Throwing him an apologetic look, you dig it out to find a barrage of texts from your roommate asking where you were and if you'd gotten the popcorn yet.

Sighing, you shoot back a text saying you'll be there in ten as you sway on your feet, preparing to move. "I should go. It was really nice to meet you..."

"Leon," He adds with a smile, cheeks squishing even more under his helmet.

You return his smile and give him your name in exchange, which has his eyes crinkling deeply. And just before you disappear around the aisle to the cashier, you stop and turn around.

"Hey," You call out to him, waiting as he turns to you, "Friendly tip, there's a cop car that's always parked a few blocks away. It's well hidden behind a few bushes, so it makes it hard to spot." You pat your head, feeling a little foolish and hoping that's the correct sign for 'police' in the viking community. "Be careful so they don't give you a hard time."

Leon grins widely under his helmet, feeling almost giddy. He should leave too if he wants to be up bright and early to report to his post with the cop car a few blocks away.

Leon pats the top of helmet, mirroring you, "Thanks for letting me know! I'll keep an eye out for that."

And this time he watches you as you shuffle on your feet, face contorting like you wanted to say something else but then deciding against it and then almost tripping on your feet before you walked away, your neck suddenly a shade darker.

The same one you just mentioned.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil

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writingouthere · 10 months

Note

Wait neighbor Sukuna is cuteeeeee I need a story pleaseeee🥹🥹🥹

another neighbor!Sukuna drabble. your first unofficial date.

cw: fluff, single parent reader, Sukuna is a good neighbor but a bad dude

The first time that Sukuna took you out happened on accident.

He'd been keeping track of your comings and goings so he could start being in the hallway at the same time as you to give a casual hello. His favorite times were when you had time to just chat without you needing to rush off to work or to daycare or one of the many activities you always were taking your daughter to.

It was a Saturday morning and Sukuna's ears perked up when he heard you talking to your daughter down the hallway. You couldn't clearly hear what you were saying but the tone seemed soothing and he thought he could even make out some sniffling from your daughter, unusual since she was usually so cheerful.

Sukuna grabbed his mailbox key so he had a purpose for stepping outside and slipped some shoes on before going into the hallway.

"Morning, neighbor," you managed cheerfully and Sukuna looked down to see that your daughter had tears on her face. The sight had his hackles up immediately.

"Are you all okay?" He tried to sound nonchalant and he wondered if it worked as you wiped away some of your daughter's tears.

"We're okay, it's just," you paused here and looked at your daughter. "Her dad was going to take her to the aquarium but something came up and he's not going to make it. I know he's really disappointed he can't go." The touch of anger in your eyes made him think that this was you just trying to make your daughter feel better.

Sukuna had been planning to wait a little longer, to build more of a rapport with you before trying anything, but he couldn't just see you or your kid look like this over some loser who couldn't be a real man for his family.

"Well I don't see why that means we can't go to the aquarium," he said and he finally got the kid to stop crying for a second and look up at him.

"We don't have a car and it's over two hours by subway," you said reluctantly and Sukuna couldn't contain his sly grin.

"I have a car, and I wouldn't mind taking you. If that's okay with you, of course."

"Yes, yes, yes, can we go mommy, please?" Sukuna had never heard your toddler say so much before and you bit your lip before looking back at him. Sukuna could barely keep his eyes off your mouth but he knew if he looked he'd kiss you and this wasn't the place for it.

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to do it, sweetheart." You blushed a little at that and looked down at your daughter.

"Alright bug, we can go. But make sure you tell Mr. Ryomen thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Ryomen," your daughter echoed dutifully and he knelt down to ruffle her hair.

"No need to thank me, and I told you, you can both just call me Sukuna."

"Thank you, Sukuna." Sukuna really wanted to kiss you. But he knew that if he did it now it would ruin this perfect chance for you to see what he could be for you, for both of you.

You bring out a car seat that you have in your apartment and you show Sukuna how to install it. Sukuna pays attention because he plans on going on many more trips with the two of you. Maybe the car seat can even just stay here(not yet, not yet, not yet he keeps telling himself).

He encourages you to choose the radio station you listen to on the way over and you choose a throwback station that has you and the kid singing along to. It's nice and warm and Sukuna knows every person he's ever met would be baffled at the scene but it feels too fucking right to care.

He pays once you get there, waving off your protests and you spend all day looking at the exhibits. When you get to the pool where you can pet the stingrays, he lifts your daughter up so she can reach them and shows her how to hold her fingers so the animals will come up to her. He can feel your gaze on him, but this isn't even just for you. The more time he spends with your daughter, the more he feels like she's supposed to be his too.

Finally though, the toddler being a toddler gets hangry and you all stop at the cafe for a light lunch. He watches as you try to persuade your daughter to have some fruit in addition to the cookie she has her eye on and Sukuna pops some of the grapes in his mouth with an exaggerated noise of pleasure, making mini-you copy him.

"Thanks," you tell him as you watch your daughter finish up her fruit. "It was one thing when it was just the vegetables she didn't like but now she's got beef with fruits and I'm worried she's going to end up with scurvy."

"No problem, happy to help." and the thing is, Sukuna is happy to help. He remains happy as you finish going through the aquarium. When your daughter gets too tired, he picks her up and carries her so you can make your way back to your car.

"All tired out, bug," you say, affectionately rubbing her back. He hoists her up higher on his hip as you enter the lobby when an older woman stops you.

"Such a beautiful family you have here," she says waving at the sleepy toddler on Sukuna's hip and he nods as you blush.

Neither of you speak about it, but he wonders if it's on your mind as much as his on your way back to your apartment building. He lets you say your goodbyes as the sleeping girl on your shoulder drools in her sleep.

When Sukuna enters his apartment he leans back against his door and just lets the warmth of the day wash over him. He had known before what he wanted, but now he felt almost desperate.

His days spent in this quiet apartment alone were numbered, and he was going to make sure you knew his intentions as soon as possible.

After all, he still had your car seat.

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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hotchfiles · 5 months

Text

↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…

“Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth.

The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

“Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”

“My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod.

“Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated.

“And you? Catholic?”

“Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood.

Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place.

He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before.

“She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting.

He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date.

“I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment.

Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?”

The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you.

“So you believe it’s a man?”

“Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited.

It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time.

“Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open.

“If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty.

“To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself.

“A very shameful execution.”

You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.

And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

“Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.

“Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.

The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.

The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.

You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then.

Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.

“Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.”

Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.

“Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”

“They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.

“Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction.

“Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation.

Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.

“Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.

“Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario #flari: in nomine patris #lari writes sometimes

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kayhi808 · 1 month

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First Crush -10

Thank you to @enchantedbarnes for the idea of having you and Abby attend an Avengers party.

Saturday rolls around for the party & you weren't going to tell Abby about visiting the Compound with Bucky until the morning of. You already knew she wouldn't have been able to go to sleep the night before & would have drove you crazy with all her questions & nonsense. You however, stayed up late packing your bag, making sure you had everything you needed.

You overslept, but how fortunate for you, you have your own personal alarm, "Mama? You sleep?" You feel Abby's warm breath in your face. She has no respect for your personal space. You turn away, but soon feel the other side of the bed dip with her weight and a small grunt from pulling herself up. "Mama? I'ms done sleep," tapping your shoulder.

"But Mama isn't. Go back to bed." She lifts your blanket & sheet trying to squirm beside you. "Go back to YOUR bed."

She squeezes your cheeks between her palms, "But i wants to be with yous!" Hoping she settles down & falls back asleep, you stay silent.

"Mama?" Whispering in your face again, "When is you done sleeps?" You continue to ignore her, & then she coughs in your face. You pull away glaring at her, "Oh Mama! You wake!"

"Abigail! That was gross!"

She covers her mouth belatedly & gives a fake cough, "Excuse me." This kid pushes your buttons. You get up, sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands, trying to wake up.

Abby crawls over, leaning on your back & throwing her arms around your neck, "What's for breakfast?"

Wrapping your arms behind your back, securing her to you, you walk out to the living room & deposit her on the couch. Turning on cartoons, "Do you want cereal or eggos?"

"Eggos!!" Perfect.

Once she's eaten enough, you tell her about your outing. "Bucky is taking us to a party today. What do you want to wear?"

"What??" Turning to you with big eyes. "He's taking me to party?"

"If you brush your teeth & wash your face." She scrambles out of her chair and runs to the bathroom. Her bare feet slapping against the floor. You follow her & see that she's pulled up her stool to the sink waiting for you to help her.

Abby picks out a green sundress and makes you wear one in the same color, because "We needs to match." You drew the line at pigtails.

As you sit out on the stoop waiting for Bucky, Abby is dancing to music on your phone, making the skirt of her dress swish. "Mama? Is you taking the train?"

"What? Why would I be on the train?"

"Cos, you can't fits on Bucky's fancy bicycle. Only I cans."

Insulted, "Its a motorcycle, not a bicycle. And why do I have to take the train? Maybe we should put you on a train."

Laughing, "You can't do that. I'm widdle."

You see Bucky turn the corner, "Bucky is driving a car, so we can all fit and no one has to be on the train.

Bucky double parks & runs around to the sidewalk. "Good Morning!" He immediately gives you a kiss before grabbing your bags & placing it in the backseat. 'Who's ready for a party?"

"ME!!" Abby jumps up and down.

Bucky picks Abby up & kisses her cheek. "Aren't you the prettiest girl." She buries her face in his shoulder. He puts her in the back seat, "Can you climb in there?" Bucky moves out of the way so you can get her buckled in. 'Clint helped me install it. He's got kids so he knew what he was doing." You get Abby all situated & close the door. Turning, you notice Bucky has you caged in against the car, "You look beautiful."

You cradle his face in your palms, thumbs brushing against the stubble darkening his cheeks. His eyes darken as you pull him in for a kiss. His hands drop from the car to your waist pulling you against him, deepening the kiss. His tongue stroking yours.

"Mama!!" You pull away from the kiss, hearing your daughter's muffled yell from inside the car. Turning to look in on her, "Please get in the car! Yous make us late for the party."

Bucky laughs. "She's not funny. She was going to make me catch a train to Westchester while she rode your motorcycle with you." He walks you around to the passenger side & lets you in. "Sorry, baby. We're ready to go now."

******

The ride out to Westchester was beautiful! You've never been to the Avengers Compound but of course you've heard of it. It's the training center for all the new recruits. You can see tents already set up on the East lawn. It looks like a huge celebration. They went all out.

Driving into the parking garage, "Mama?"

"Yes."

"Is this the party place?"

"Yes, baby, but first we have to drop off our bags at Bucky's home & then we can go to the party."

"Bucky, I goes to your house??" She tries to unbuckle herself, "I sees your house?" getting all excited.

You reach back to touch her foot, "Baby, you need to wait until the car stops."

"Stop the car!"

"Abby, calm down. Bucky has to park the car & then we can let you out." You and Bucky exchange a look and try to keep the laughter to yourselves.

He pulls into his stall, "Ok, Abby. We're here."

"Lemme out!" Bucky jumps out of the car & opens the door behind him to calm Abby down. You get out & run around to their side of the car. Bucky gets Abby out of the carseat & hands her off to you. "Mama, I so 'cited!"

"Yea, we can tell." Bucky grabs your bags & leads you into the building & pass security.

*****

Bucky takes you up to the residences and you're able to drop your things off. And then he gives you a quick tour of the communal kitchen and common areas.

The rest of the team is hanging out in the living room. They all tell Abby "hi" and she wraps an arm around your leg and gives a small wave before sticking her thumb in her mouth.

"She'll warm up in a minute."

Abby moves to Bucky, holding up her arms, "Upsies, please." He lifts her up & she snuggles into his shoulder.

Natasha goes over, "Are you ready for the rides and games, Abby?"

Her eyes grow wide. You didn't tell her anything other than it was a party. Natasha leads Bucky and Abby over to the window overlooking the lawn. There's some jumper houses, a carousel, mini train rides, spinning swings a ferris wheel...she's never seen anything like it before. "Mama! Mama!" She wiggles so Bucky places her on the ground. You were talking to Steve when you heard her call. "Scuse me, Mr Captain. Mama, come lookit!" You pick her up and go to the window. "Pretty lady," tapping Natasha's arm "show me all dis!"

"Natasha. Her name is Natasha."

"N'asha shows me all dis!"

"Wow! That's amazing, huh?" Abby gives a happy wiggle in your arms.

"Are you ready to join the party?" Bucky hold out his hands to Abby and she immediately goes to him. He props her up on his shoulder and she giggles.

You and the team are ready to make your way to the festivities.

Next Chapter

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x abigail rose #avengers

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joonsytip · 6 months

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All Too Well || Wonwoo

Synopsis: With Wonwoo's dilemma hitting the wall and your perseverance getting stronger, will the events unfold as foreseen or the fate will turn its course?

Word Count: 2k

Third and final installment of Wonwoo drabble series (set in the Withering for You universe but can be read as a standalone drabble series).

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Say Don't Go | So It Goes | All Too Well

It's been a week since Wonwoo has seen you. When he woke up that fateful day along with nothing but the void you, it didn't take him long to recollect the happenings from within the car to his sheets. The slightly recovered bruises on his knuckles and the bloodstains on his bedroom wall are the witnesses of the frenzy state he was in, still is.

The guilt of sleeping with you eats him up. The regret of getting wasted and causing the slip of his true feelings and also his dick into you, makes him wanna get swallowed by the ground. He hates that his subconscious mind was conscious enough to hear your sobs but did nothing to stop them.

Wonwoo contemplates for the whole week that follows. He wonders if he should contact you or let you have your space and contact him whenever you're ready.

He's not clear in head, unsure of what he'd say on seeing you again.

Sorry, it was a mistake. He wonders if he should go ahead with the classic lie and be an entitled jerk, letting you berate him which would gradually help you in letting go those feelings for him.

It wasn't a mistake, I really meant everything I said and did but sorry we can't be together. This seemed too much of truth bombing in a situation where the other party (you) is already hurt beyond repair.

In his mind, he tries several other permutations and combinations but never considers that one way which would save everyone from the headaches and all the heartbreaks.

Everyone can sense the shift, something has definitely happened by the way you have been avoiding meetups and can guess the reason to be Wonwoo. They can't pinpoint exactly but they're sure it started right after that night's party.

"I need you to take everything off your chest while I'm asking you nicely.", your best friend tells you, "My patience has been thinned nowadays and don't make me loose my temper."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as you look at her and Seungcheol whose eyes are begging you to comply with his wife because she can indeed be scary.

"Do you want Seungcheol to be gone from here?", she asks, her gaze softening, "It's okay, he won't mind."

Before you could answer, Seungcheol is already off his seat saying, "I'll head back to the office, have some matters to take care of.", and he leans to peck his wife on forehead, "Call me if you need anything and let me know once done, I'll come and pick you up."

After Seungcheol leaves, a comfortable silence falls upon.

"You're already showing.", you say smiling and your best friend mirrors one to you.

"Four months already", she says caressing her protruding belly, "Time flies by, I swear it feels like yesterday I took the test and it came out positive. Seungcheol had cried the whole night, holding me close. Though he has became a lot more sensitive than me.", she adds and looks at you, "But enough about us. I came here just to make you lift some weight off. I could have brought Gyu, but I thought we should have a one to one before letting the guys know if at all you're willing to."

When your gazes meet, you can tell that she already has an inkling because her hunch has always been accurate. So you squirm in your seat and after failing to keep the tears at bay you tell her what had exactly happened in a messy-teary state.

After consoling you, she waits for you to stop crying, blinking back her own tears.

"Are you planning to address this to Wonwoo?", she asks softly.

You shake your head, "He probably doesn't even remember."

"Bullshit." she scoffs, "Are you waiting for him to contact you? Do you want me to talk to him?"

You chuckle with all bitterness, "Yes, I wanted him to contact me but it's been a week already and honestly, I don't even want to see him now because he'll repeat the same words, which are not exactly pleasant to hear. I hate how right headed he is, how all his fears are legit. I wouldn't have done it either."

You lean up to look at her, "Also, I don't want you to talk to him and I'd appreciate it if you can keep this to yourself because we're in the same group and the guys would cause a ruckus if they become aware."

She strokes your hair in a soothing manner and you almost drift off until she nudges you to tell something but you're already dismissing her off, "Don't even think of trying to do anything. I've just accepted my fate, I'll gradually move on."

Another week passes by and Wonwoo thinks he's ready to confront you. He had taken the entire office, everyone in his circle by surprise by taking an entire week off. Seungcheol being an amazing boss and understanding friend easily granted his request in the best hopes of having his friend clear the clouds clogging in his head.

Wonwoo sends you a text asking you to meet him whenever you're free. He clutches the phone tightly in his hands, feet tapping anxiously as he awaits your reply.

When he doesn't receive one after an hour, he's calling you only to be unanswered. Rationality leaving his bones, he keeps on calling your number until it gets recieved and it's an unfamiliar male voice answering the phone.

There's a sharp pang in his heart when he gets to know that it's your blind date who has picked up the call since the phone kept ringing and you've gone to washroom. Though he wants nothing but to rush to whenever you currently are, he curtly ends the call and decides to wait for your reply to his text.

His unwavering gaze directed towards the phone might have worked because he receives a response late at night and he's meeting you tomorrow.

You are unfazed, never once thinking about Wonwoo. That's what you try to tell yourself, that's how you plan to act in front of him. You don't anticipate his arrival at your apartment, that's partially true because you know you're gonna get heartbroken again because even though you want to tie the loose ends, you're sure he's only coming to cut them off wholly.

So you tell your mother who has been nagging you to get married to set you up for blind dates and this time you promised you'd seriously consider them with marriage perspective. Hence, today you're going to another date with someone you know this time and not at all impressed about.

The doorbell rings and you check the monitor to confirm that it's Wonwoo before letting him in.

"Are you going somewhere?", Wonwoo asks as he settles on the couch and you take a seat on the chair.

You nod, "Going on a date with Minjun."

Wonwoo's jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists as he asks, "Kim Minjun? He's a womanizer, Y/N. Didn't you go on a date yesterday?"

You scoff, "And how does that concern you anyway?", your lips curl up, "People can change after marriage."

Wonwoo short circuits at your verbal jab.

"Marriage? How can you even consider Minjun out of all people?"

Your expression turns grim when you say, "If I can't marry the person I love then marriage for me would be just another business deal, another merge to benefit the company, solidify our social status."

Trying to maintain the unbothered facade, you ask, "Why did you want to meet?"

"Why did you leave me alone in the bed?", Wonwoo asks toning down, "When you left, you took all of the warmth with you."

You suck in a sharp breath, breaking the eye contact.

"Within these two weeks I went through all sorts of possibilities from never acknowledging the fact that we slept to being a jerk, dismissing it as a simple hookup to letting you down subtly.", he gets up and walks up to you, crouching in front of you, "But as I pondered over, the only honest answer residing within my heart was not to be a coward anymore and be honest about my feelings, be honest with you."

Your heartbeat quickens, as his hands encase yours, you feel the warmth seep from him.

"I love you, Y/N.", Wonwoo confesses, "Like you, I have also harboured feelings for you for a long time. I cherish every moment we've spent together."

You're eyes go wide, heart constricting in chest. You feel your inners catapulting. You thought you know him all too well to give up upon the possibility of being together but witnessing him stripping bare in front of you is something you've always wanted but never expected to happen.

Wonwoo gently holds your face, voice soft, gaze emitting tenderness when he says, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for projecting my fears and insecurities upon you. But I have realised that you're worth everything and above. For you, I would fight the world if you allow me to stay by your side."

Rendered speechless, your teary eyes look at him with such anguish that it makes Wonwoo want to beat himself for breaking your heart over and over again.

Moments pass by and you both fall into comfortable silence. You're now seated on his lap, head laying his chest as he gently strokes your hair.

"It won't be easy.", you speak, head still downed, as your hand takes in his, entwining the fingers, "But I'd go to hell and back for you if time comes."

You shift back to look at him, "And I promise to be your shield, if anyone tries to hurt you or Wonseok, they'd have to face me first. I won't let anyone hurt you.", your gaze softens, "All of your worries, fears and sentiments are valid, Wonwoo. But it would be nice if you share them with me from now on because you're not alone, we're in this together. I love you."

Wonwoo swears he doesn't cry easily but your words seem to have opened the floodgates as his loud sobs echo throughout the house.

"Thank you.", he smiles as you wipe his tears and leans in to kiss you.

As your lips graze, the shrill ringing your phone startles you both. You grab it from the couch and the screen flashes Kim Minjun as the caller.

There's a sharp change in Wonwoo's expression as he takes the phone from your hand, putting it on speaker and answering it.

"Uh sorry, who's this speaking? Could you please get Y/N on the phone?"

There's a terse movement in the muscles of his jaw as Wonwoo responds, "I'm Jeon Wonwoo, Y/N's--", his gaze shifts at you, lips stretching in a smile, "Lover. I'm cancelling the date and please don't ever contact her again."

As soon as he hangs up, you tease him, "Lover huh? Since when?"

Wonwoo grins like he's drunk in love, he might as well be, "Since the day, you got drunk and danced on the tabletop after the semesters ended."

You gasp, "What do you want in exchange for deleting this memory?"

He's so lovesick, giggling cutely and being all touchy, "What about making new ones and keeping this one in my vault, sealed?"

Your heart flutters at the insinuation. True to your words, you'd surely fight the world to keep him with you.

And your lover chants all's well that ends well to ending up with you, gratefully with all his heart.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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lxndonorris · 7 months

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the racing bull - Daniel Ricciardo (SFS24)

Y/N x Daniel Ricciardo Theme: Smut, Teasing, Touching Daniel returns from his suit fitting with a surprise x word count: 1930+ taglist: @game-set-canet first installment of the suit fitting saga 2024, if you have any requests let me know!

The anticipation built steadily throughout the day as you waited for your boyfriend, Daniel, to return from his suit fitting. The thought of him in his new racing gear, sleek and confident, made your heart race almost as fast as his car on the track. Unfortunately, work commitments kept you from joining him, but he promised to flood your phone with pictures once he got home.

It's late at night when you hear the door swinging open. Still sitting at your desk, face buried in a dozen books, adrenaline pumps through your veins as everything is now forgotten. Daniel is back home.

Your heart races upon hearing footsteps echoing through the hallway, but then they stop.

"You didn't send me any pictures, Daniel." A bit disappointed, you turn around to find Daniel casually leaning against the doorframe. But to your surprise, instead of pulling out his phone to show you pictures, he is wearing his new racing suit.

"Surprise," he says, his voice low and husky with excitement. Daniel runs a hand down his own chest, just along the zipper of the crisp white fabric with vibrant blue accents.

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight before you. Daniel, the love of your life, stands there looking like a god among men, his muscles defined beneath the fabric, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You can't help but gasp with appreciation.

"You..... you're wearing it now?" You stammer, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He nods, taking a step closer until you feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you.

"I wanted you to see it in the flesh." Daniel runs both hands down his chest, feeling himself grow tenser with every second. "And besides, I couldn't wait to show it off to you." He smiles before licking his lips in anticipation.

You reach out tentatively, getting up from the chair to run your fingers over the smooth fabric of his suit, marveling at how perfectly it fits him. Every contour of his athletic form is accentuated, making him look even more irresistible than usual.

Daniel enjoys your hands all over his chest, and he starts purring like a happy cat. He leans into you, his face just inches away from yours, yet your eyes are stuck at his suit, his chest, his entire body.

"You look incredible." You urmur, feeling your cheeks flush with heat.

His body is thick and huge, growing tenser with every little stroke of your hand. You know he is so excited, maybe even more than you are. The weeks before the season starts are always filled with moments like these, and sharing them with Daniel makes them even more precious.

Daniel grins, a mischievous glint in his beautifully shining eyes.

"Wanna see me strike a few poses?" He asks, already starting to flex his arms and show off his muscles through the tight suit.

You giggle, feeling a rush of affection for this man, who never fails to surprise you. "Of course," you say, stepping back to admire the view.

As he moves through a series of poses, you can't help but feel a surge of pride and arousal swell within you. Here was your boyfriend, confident and strong, ready to take on the new season. And he is all yours.

His body is ready for the upcoming trials. As he lifts his arms, you can tell he's been working out like crazy; his muscles are bulging through the suit, and he is pushing himself, knowing how much you love seeing him in his new gear.

His thick pecs are on display as well as his pretty asses; he knows his audience, giving you a good look at all of him.

As he strikes another pose, Daniel smirks, biting his lower lip, something he would do when he was getting more and more into it.

After a few more minutes of admiring his display, Daniel finally relaxes, his breath coming out in soft puffs. He takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close until you feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

You lean into him, kissing him lovingly. He, however, goes a step further. His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring every corner of it while leaving drops of his precious taste behind. This, mixed with his familiar scent swirling around your nose, sends shivers down your spine.

"Daniel." You moan breathlessly right into his mouth, but then he pulls away just enough for his taste to linger on your lips.

"You wanna see what's underneath?" He grolws deeply, one hand already at the collar of his suit, playing with its button.

Nodding slowly, you take a deep breath.

Carefully, he unbuttons his suit and pulls the zipper down to reveal his bare chest.

Swallowing hard, you can't help but steady yourself against his strong frame, and he gladly holds you close.

Firmly, you run both hands up and down his rock-hard chest. All of that teasing, posing, and overall tension hovering all around you is showing its effect on him.

Daniel takes several deep breaths, his eyes following your hands every move.

"I know you love the fireproofs." He breathes deeply, his eyes meeting yours again, pulling you into him even more. "But I couldn't resist."

A coy smile spreads across your lips as his burning gaze ignites a fire inside your belly.

This is good." You say, enjoying running your hands all over his chest, that his bare skin is warm yet so soft.

As you feel him and touch him firmly, he starts to purr again, but this time his voice is huskier and rougher than usual.

At the same time, his hands wander down your back, right to your arse, cupping your cheeks to hold you close to him.

"I love this." You murmur again, playing with his nipples, knowing very well that this makes him happy. "Thank you."

Daniel lifts his head slightly, trying to hold back a low groan but failing.

"I'm glad you like it." He leans in to kiss you again; this time, it's much more gentle, yet there is an undeniable desire building up in both of your bodies.

To tease him, you run a hand even further down his body, right to his crotch, feeling the excitement that's been building up inside Daniel, presumably for the entire day.

Right away, he moans into your mouth before leaning his head back and embracing your hand, tracing the tangible outlines of his member tenting inside his new suit.

"Fuck, this feels gooood." He mumbles, closing his eyes for a second.

You let your eyes wander down his firm chest before tracing the letters written across his waistline.

'Ricciardo'

You follow each letter with your index finger, one at a time, while you keep on findling with his length through his suit, causing him to let out multiple low groans, giving you goosebumps.

His entire body reacts to your touch, growing harder and harder, and Daniel slowly regains his composure, resting his head against yours.

"This is even better than expected." He breathes down your neck before he starts to grind his hips against your hand. "I was thinking about this for the entire day."

Smirking, you grab his member firmly, causing him to whimper.

"Me too." You embrace his body against yours, giving in to him completely.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity before he kisses you again; this time, it's a much more passionate kiss.

Together, you make your way toward the sofa, kissing and touching each other.

You lay down on your back while watching him slip out of the upper part of his suit, revealing his well-formed chest. Daniel is breathing deeply as well, running a hand through his curly hair and across his chest, right to the visible bulge inside his trousers.

"See what you're doing to me?" He growls, and his lips form a coy smile.

Biting your lips and holding back a million things you could say to him in response, you just motion for him to join you on the sofa.

Effortlessly, but with a sly smirk, Daniel climbs on top of you, one hand steadying himself against the cushions, the other now firmly on your chest, touching your boobs.

"Mhmm." You moan into his mouth, one hand still on his member, the other now back on his bare chest.

While you're grinding on each other, his crotch against your thighs, you turn your head to the side to catch some much-needed air.

Daniel doesn't mind; instead, he places kisses all over your neck, and his hot breath tingles on your skin.

"Do you want me?" You run a hand along his spine, toward the back of his head, and through his slightly messy hair.

Daniel takes a deep breath, separating himself from your neck for just a moment to look into your eyes.

"So much." His words barely come out as his voice breaks.

"I'm all yours." You lean in and kiss him again while running your hand all over him, his chest, shoulders, neck, and further down to his length towering inside his pants.

Lovingly, he unbuttons your pants, and as he pulls them down, he places kisses all over your waist and your thighs. His beard tickles your skin, but you love this even more.

Easily, he then pulls his member out of the suit and climbs back on you.

You feel him grinding on your thighs before he bends down, his chest just inches away from yours.

Once his lips meet your own, you feel him entering your body. Both of you get stiff and rigid, letting out low moans and groans in unison.

Unable to keep your eyes open, you give in to him again, letting him guide you with kisses and gentle thrusts.

Daniel moves deliberately, slowly yet steadily increasing the pace and strength, while you wrap your arms around his back and neck, stroking him firmly.

"Mhmm." He moans deep into your throat.

In this moment of pure blissful harmony, you let go of all of your thoughts, embracing Daniel with all your body.

It feels like an eternity has passed when the built-up tension inside your body gets nearly unbearable. You can tell he is feeling the same by the way he's moving, growling, and grunting.

After a heavy thrust, both of you stop and scream out together in ecstasy.

Exhausted but satisfied, he steadies himself against the sofa, so his face hovers over yours.

"I love you so much." Daniel smiles and kisses you again.

"I love you too." You say, and cuddle for a little while longer before he separates himself, gets off the sofa, and fixes his suit.

You get dressed again as well, and lean back against the soft cushions behind you, watching him put his suit back on, one sleeve at a time.

"You look so good, Daniel." You admire his strong physique, and with his back turned to you, you get a good look at his pretty arse.

Daniel looks at you above his shoulder, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Thank you." He runs a hand through his hair and then across his chest once more. "I like this suit so much."

You get up as well and hug him from behind, resting your head against his back.

"I know you'll do great this year." Stroking his chest, you close your eyes.

Daniel cups your hand with his own before turning around and hugging you tightly.

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