#even though it would be a HOT mess--i'd still like to see it for the chaos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoongihan · 9 months ago

Text

You Left A Mark - LYB - OneShot

pairing: felix x female reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

romantic trope: soulmates (inspiration from this reel)

word count: 10k

rating: M for smut, a little language

warnings: cursing, penetrative sex (unprotected), kissing, cuddling, so much touching but it's FELIX, an excessive amount of felix admiration, mc is a reporter and i make up all of that because i know nothing, ages are never mentioned but felix is a few years younger than mc, mc is shorter than felix, silly use of skz song titles for the names of venues. i can't think of anything else that might need a headsup, please let me know if i've missed something.

a/n: fic #2 in skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. the soulmate trope i use is one i encountered here (it's a great fic and i'd highly recommend it) and i have no idea if it originated anywhere else. don't click if you don't want to be spoiled, my fic explains how it works about half way through.

It was, in appearance, just another work day like any other.

In truth, just another work day tended to be not like any other work day as your job entailed reporting the news, which means you could be anywhere in the city in any kind of situation. Your job probably seems exciting to the regular person, but more often than not, it’s dealing with the news anchors’ larger than life egos and your producer not allowing you to cover much more than fluff pieces.

You like fluff pieces, you do. The world is a big hot mess of negativity and darkness and reporting on a child who saved a hamster is definitely a small bright light in that void. But you also care about the dark things, the horrors big and small that need to be announced so that maybe someone can do something about them.

But you aren’t there yet. According to your boss and her boss. You are still growing as a reporter, as a television personality (wtf?), and the latest showdown at the courthouse is to be covered by seasoned professionals.

Not little you and your four years of effort and hard work (not even counting the internship).

But you digress.

You’re in front of the newest coffeehouse in one of the smaller neighborhoods. Taste is the simple name and it looks more like a sleek, modern cocktail bar than a cozy coffee shop. Austere and intimidating if you aren’t someone who can look put together (which you often aren’t).

“So for those interested in a new type of caffeine experience,” You start to close your segment after speaking with the owner and manager. “This place is definitely for you. The coffee mocktails themselves would require multiple visits before you try them all. So come by and have a ‘Taste.’” You smile as brightly as you can despite the cringe-worthy pun, but before your cameraman (one of your favorite humans on the planet, Chan) can call cut, you are bowled into by someone running past.

Part of your professional attire sometimes includes heels and as it is a particularly nice day that doesn’t require too much traversing, you wear heels. Which give no stability when being bumped by someone careening down the street.

“Hey!” you hear Chan say but you can only concentrate on trying to keep upright (a losing battle) and you hold onto the microphone because compared to your body, the mic will cost more to replace.

But you don’t fall. You don’t feel the hard smack of the concrete against your skin.

Hands are wrapped around your upper arms, grip firm and steady.

“You okay?”

You try to regain your balance, find your footing in these insensible but pretty heels. “I’m okay, I'm fine.” You turn your head to see your would-be rescuer and have to blink a few times.

Okay, freckles.

He smiles. This guy of probably mid-twenties, warm russet eyes, with black hair is smiling at you once you’re standing on your own merit. He releases you, but not without a quick pat as though to say ‘there you go, you got it’.

“Thank you.”

His cheeks redden. “Oh, um, you’re welcome.” There’s an accent to his words, but you’re still rather gobsmacked by the entire exchange to place it.

“You alright?” Chan has moved to the both of you, eyes quickly inspecting you as though you might hide any injuries even though you didn’t fall. “It was some kid.”

There’s a deep sigh from your rescuer. “Yeah, he stole some of the chocolates we keep by the POS.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I…well, it’s just chocolate.” His smile is less brilliant and more sheepish. “He probably needed it.”

“Chocolate is not a necessity,” you reply immediately, but then pause and rethink your words.

“It might be.” He smiles again. “It’s pretty good chocolate.”

You shrug. “That’s fair…wait, we caught a crime on camera?” you ask Chan. “Amazing.” You brush yourself off even though you really aren’t covered in debris because again, you didn’t actually fall. But this guy’s attention is throwing you off just a bit.

“I caught you nearly falling on your face,” Chan says before laughing at your glare. “I’ll edit it out.”

“Whatever,” You aren’t really annoyed because it’s Chan and you did nearly fall on your face. “Thank you, again, Mr….”

“I’m Felix,” your rescuer says. “I work here.” He reaches out to move a wayward piece of your hair out of your eyes, his finger brushing along your cheekbone. It makes you pause in your attempt at gratitude because you’re not really bothered. Like he’s a stranger and is touching you and you don’t mind? Because he has a nice, sweet face? “Sorry, you had some hair…”

You can sense Chan moving away, packing up the camera, leaving you relatively alone with this person.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” You stutter a little because you’re off your game. “Felix. At some point, I owe you a drink.”

“Oh no, it’s not a–”

“I owe you a drink.” You smile, though it’s your television smile because you need to be professional even if you feel the least professional. “Even if it’s just a coffee.” You gesture to Taste. “If you want.”

The smile returns in full. “Yeah, okay. I’m here most days.” His lips part like he might say more, but he doesn’t. Nor do you.

It’s nice just looking at him. The sun-warmed skin that contrasts with the inky black of his hair and eyebrows. He’s taller than you, but there’s no intimidation factor in the difference. He feels like someone you could meet anywhere and approach without worry.

You bet he gets great tips as a barista. Imagine walking in to get a coffee and that luminescent smile.

You hear Chan call your name in an attempt to get you to head back to the studio. It shakes you out of the strange reverie this stunning, deep-voiced person has you in.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you.”

He waves as you walk away before tucking his hands into his back pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. It’s now that you notice that he wears the half-apron other employees were wearing, black pants and emerald shirt (a t-shirt, but like a really nice one). You glance back once you’re in the news van with Chan who chuckles.

“Isn’t he a bit young for you?”

You look back at the road and huff. “Aren’t you a little too interested?” You grab a granola bar out of your bag and take a bite, sighing happily.

“Not at all. I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that though.”

“God, he’s cute, alright. And saved my job because I doubt I could keep reporting with a broken face.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too–”

“I can murder you, you know,” you interrupt. “No one would suspect because I know things. I’ve watched a lot of Criminal Minds.”

He presses his lips together, but is grinning. “Ooooo, scary.”

“Exactly.” You roll your eyes, your mind briefly leaving the cute barista and returning to all that is work.

–

When you get home that night, he pops into your brain again. The pretty, voice as deep as the ocean, Felix.

But not for the normal reasons one would ponder a good-looking acquaintance.

He pops into your brain when you undress in your bathroom in order to take a much desired shower. In the corner of your eye, you see your reflection when you remove your shirt. There, in marked contrast to your skin, is the beginnings of the darkest bruise you’ve ever seen.

“What the–” You turn to examine it better, spooked by it when you had no memory of bumping into anything that hard. Your other arm shows a similar discoloration, in a similar area.

In fact, it almost looks like something left by a tight hand grip.

You roll your eyes at your own reflection. It hadn’t felt like he’d held you that hard, but you could bruise pretty easily, so of course, Felix, the fae-looking barista, grabbing you to keep from planting into the sidewalk would leave a mark. No big deal.

You pull your hair back as it is not hair-washing day, and then quickly use make-up remover on your face. You are stopped again by your reflection.

On your cheek, not as dark or as prominent, there is the slight darkening of another bruise.

You push a piece of your hair out of the way as you move closer to the mirror to see it clearer. As you do, it sparks the memory of Felix moving your hair and how you’d felt the brush of his finger keenly.

“But…like, a bruise?” Talking to your reflection isn’t a thing you do, but today really has been a weird day. You press it and wince. It does pinch a bit. Nothing worse than the time you ran into the sliding glass doors at your family’s home as a child. Nothing topped that fiasco and subsequent pain.

Dismissing it as your body being more sensitive than usual, you hopped in the shower and soon went to bed after that. Your dreams are filled with a strange scenario of chasing after croissants and them being sucked into a hole in the sky.

–

It’s two days later when you find yourself at Taste again. You aren’t sure if it’s just Felix who’s stuck in your brain, or the fact that the bruises you see when you wipe off your makeup and undress at night makes you remember meeting him; therefore, he’s just there, hanging around in your memory which is distracting.

You tell yourself you just need some coffee that isn’t out of the ancient coffeemaker at the station.

You can’t really buy him a drink unless you have his number or something after all.

The list of excuses and rationalizations you’re coming up with is concerning.

You walk in and smile at the person behind the counter, trying to look for your rescuer without looking like you’re looking. The barista smiles at you as you place your order for a Fiery Redhead (salted caramel breve latte with a hint of cayenne) and you go to sit at an empty table by the window. You know you should ask if he’s working or coming in later, but you also just sort of want to not do much of anything for a few minutes. Work is very intense even on days you aren’t recording. News never stops whether it’s life-changing or just a cat stuck in a tree (life-changing for the cat), and you spend most of your off-work time catching up on stuff around your apartment or sleeping.

You’re staring out the window, watching the cars pass, people drift by, and you aren’t sure where you go, but when you hear a slight noise, you jump and see a mug topped with curlicues of latte art. You look up the arm attached to see Felix smiling apologetically.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You feel your skin heat at his attention on you. You’ve thought about him quite a bit in the last forty-eight hours, assuming that maybe your fascination is due to that imagination of yours. But no…he’s really that lovely to look at.

The freckles are particularly still eye-catching.

“I just zoned out.”

He’s wearing the uniform, though no apron.

“Are you on break?”

“Haven’t quite clocked in yet,” he swallows. “Saw you…kinda thought you might be here because of me.”

On anyone else that could sound arrogant, but his voice is incredibly gentle and the lilt up at the end of his words frames it hopeful; a tiny question.

“I am. You thought right.” You gesture to the chair across from you. “Hard to buy you a drink when I don’t know how to get a hold of you, except show up creepily at your job.”

As he sits, he’s chuckling, tugging on the foodsafe opaque plastic gloves encasing his hands. You notice them and it triggers something in your brain, but before you can follow that path, he speaks:

“I figured with your connections being a reporter, you could find out everything about me in mere minutes.”

You smile. “I’m so flattered you think that I have really good connections.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m still kinda low in the newsroom hierarchy.” You rest your chin in your hand. “How long do you have before your shift?”

He glances up behind you, presumably at a clock. “Ten minutes.”

“Early.”

“I hate rushing if I can avoid it.” He looks back at you and you take a second to marvel at the rich brown of his eyes.

He is stupid pretty.

“So…” you begin, trying not to be too direct (hazards of the job). “Is barista-ing something you’ve done before here?”

He nods. “Yeah, though this is a lot fancier than where I was before.” He shrugs. “I'm in school, so it helps pay the bills. And I like serving people.”

“School? For what?” You thought he might be young, but how young?

“Culinary. Baking specifically.” He smiles, the warmth just lighting him up.

“That’s so cool.” You lean closer. “I am a passable cook, like enough to follow a basic recipe and feed myself, maybe buy cookie batter on days I need a sweet, but that’s the extent. If a recipe says to fold in something, I run away in fear.” His answering chuckle warms you more than the latte (though it is very good), all the way to your toes. “Do you love it? Even though it’s school?”

The skin between his freckles turns pink. “Yeah…I enjoy it. Both learning the traditional rules, and getting to experiment.”

“Do you get to experiment here?” You point toward the shelves of pastries. You’d been tempted by at least three. Maybe you’ll give in before you leave.

“A little. When he’s feeling generous and doesn’t think I’ll screw it up.”

That’s a story you want to hear, but you file it away for later. Maybe when you get him that drink.

“What about you?” he asks, derailing your thoughts. “Always wanted to do the news?”

You straighten up and gesticulate aimlessly. “Kinda. I think I wanted to do more print journalism in the beginning. But you have to do both in school and I was good at speaking clearly and on the fly, so I stuck with broadcasting.”

“What do you like about it?” Now he rests his chin in his hand, winces before then straightening. The pained expression makes you want to reach out and check on him. You aren’t uncompassionate or anything, but the immediate concern for this near-stranger is unusual.

Maybe it’s because he looks like taking care of him would be nice. Like to curl up with him on the couch someday and watch a movie together. You bet his hair is soft and playing with it would be so nice. Maybe he’d look up at you with those big eyes and ask you for a kiss, his voice all rumbly and–

Uhhhh, maybe you should not fantasize like that.

“It feels important. Even when perhaps it’s not. I get to meet people and learn things I wouldn’t in a ‘normal’ job or ‘normal’ life.”

“Makes sense.”

You watch him look back at the clock and then sigh.

“Work?”

“Work.” He opens his hand. “I’ll give you my number? If you still want to–”

“I do.” Maybe a little too eager. “I mean, you are under no obligation if you don’t want to.” You pull out your phone and unlock it before handing it over.

“I do.” He says it simply and you wonder if he’s mildly as fascinated by you as you are by him. “I do, too.” His nose scrunches up as he types in his number, and it’s adorable.

“Okay.”

He hands you your phone back and smiles at you. “Okay then.” He starts to stand, pressing his hands on the table to aid him and he grimaces. “Ow.”

“You okay?” The concern, again, you feel is bigger than it should be, but that’s another thing you file away for the time being. “Did you hit your knee?”

“No, I…” He is looking at his hands then at you, and you feel like he’s searching for something as he gazes at you. “It’s nothing.”

You must come up short.

“I better…” He jerks a thumb toward the coffee bar. “I’ll hear from you?”

“Yeah.” You are still intrigued and concerned and a whole lot of other things, so you just force a smile to your lips. “Have a good shift, Felix.”

“Thanks.” He walks over to the bar, grabbing an apron to tie around his hips (why does that emphasize his narrow frame so much and why does that affect you?) and greets the other barista. You look back out the window, taking another sip of your drink (it’s really very good, especially with the heat of the cayenne) and try not to look back at him.

But you do. You watch him as he greets each customer, that smile bright like stars. You watch as he moves around with the other barista in the small space, like a choreographed dance for two; opening a cabinet for something, closing it with his hip or foot as he moves to the espresso machine, spinning the knob to steam the milk.

He speaks with a customer as he makes their drink, laughing without slowing down his work. He sets the paper cup in front of them, showing off the latte art you think, before covering it with the plastic lid. The customer takes it, with a smile almost as brilliant as Felix’s. He waves goodbye before glancing over at you.

You smile, embarrassed at being caught staring, but his tiny grin is shy and cute, and he gets back to making the next drink.

There’s a quick rush in the thirty minutes that you spend there. A queue of ten people, several who are in a hurry and speak with sharp, short words.

One even berating the other barista for not inputting her order quickly enough.

Felix comes to the side of his coworker, speaking calmly to the customer; not smiling, but not frowning.

You wish you could hear what he says, but the lowness of his voice makes that difficult. The perturbed customer doesn’t look too pleased, but does seem to back off. Felix makes her drink and sends her on her way.

He walks back over to his colleague, eyes searching and you know, you just know that he’s checking in. Making sure.

Caring.

You glance at the dregs of your latte, surprised at how much you feel you know this person. You don’t. You know you don’t, but there are things about him that feel familiar. That feel safe, like maybe instead you could curl up in his arms, he could play with your hair, you could ask to kiss him, taste those curved, pink lips and–

You stand up rather abruptly, taking your mug and setting it on the marked table for dishes.

“Bye!”

You turn to see him looking bewildered but bidding you a farewell. You think you smile, but you just nod and hurry away.

Good thing there’s a bit of traffic on the way back to the station. You need a moment or ten to calm down.

–

It’s a few days before you actually message Felix and make plans. Work is relentless as the local election is days away and both candidates for commissioner seem to believe that character attacks on the other is the best way to convince people to vote for you.

There was almost a fist fight yesterday. You also forgot to eat, which you didn’t realize until breakfast the next day. Perhaps your stomach shrunk because you could only do a small yoghurt in wake of not eating for a day. Despite the printed expiration date, you think it might have been spoiling already. It tasted tangy.

As you get ready for your…you’re just gonna call it a date and not overthink about it…, you see the bruises and they seem darker which makes little sense to you. You’ve bumped them a few times and it hurt, but no more or less than a normal bruise.

The bruise on your face is darker too, but your foundation and concealer does a good job of lessening the contrast so most of the time it looks like an oddly placed shadow.

But you feel like it’s a thing. Something you can’t quite figure out. And you will, once the election and campaign stuff is over and perhaps you’ll have a bit more free time.

But tonight is a date. A something with Felix. Who you have texted a couple times beyond the mere matching of your schedules. His schooling is at night four times a week. You imagine working a shift then going to class must be exhausting. You spent your undergrad years in class and in the library for work study. Not on your feet for eight hours or more, serving person after person.

Wow, you are creating a traumatic story for him. He might really love both.

He is excessively positive in his messages. He diatribes one night about nailing baumkuchen (you have to google that to understand what it is and why it’s hard) finally in class.

He’s really proud of that grade. And though you had nothing to do with it, you’re really proud of him too.

Something about him is just inviting, the opening of a door and a wave to come in.

You arrive at Back Door, a relatively less popular bar than Up All Night, which is where you would normally grab a drink after work with your colleagues if you were feeling social (which is about 50% of the time post-work). You’ve not been to Back Door yet, but just walking in makes you smile. Everything looks like a hotel lobby with big couches and large tables to stand at. The art on the walls is a mixture of traditional and modern. The red and black color scheme is daring.

Not a place to get cozy, but a place to make an impression.

Do you want to make an impression on Felix? Maybe.

You walk to the bar, finding a spot in between well-dressed people. You wait your turn for one of the two bartenders to find you and as you often do, you watch people and imagine what their lives might be like.

“Hey.”

You jump at his voice (how do you forget how freakin’ deep it is every time?) and then you get his laugh.

“I keep scaring you. Sorry.” He squeezes in next to you and you get a new image of him. Dressed in ripped black jeans and a pale pink button-down shirt with black tie loosened.

He is…delectable.

You shake your head to his comment as well as the path your thoughts are going.

“I just zone out a lot.”

He moves closer, his ear toward you so he can hear better. You repeat yourself and he nods before turning back so his eyes can look into yours.

Damn, that’s powerful.

“Where do you go?” he asks. “When you zone out?”

Do you admit that you regularly think about people you don’t know and make up backstories for them? You think that maybe he won’t judge you too harshly.

“I–” You cut yourself off when he lifts his hand to try and get the bartender’s attention. He’d had on gloves the last time you saw him, but he doesn’t now.

And the insides of his hand is dark. Like a bruise covering the length of his index finger across the palm to his thumb.

As though he’d grabbed something (someone) and bruised himself.

You don’t think to check for consent, but grab his hand, peering at the marks then you take his other. It doesn’t register that he just lets you, not even saying a word about your impoliteness.

“Felix,” you say slowly. “You…” You look up and he’s looking at your arms which are covered by three-quarter length sleeves. You’ve been intentional about not highlighting that you look like you’ve gone through a round with a MMA fighter. You nod at the question in his eyes.

What’s the point of lying? And to lie to Felix feels beyond wrong.

“Let’s get that drink and talk, huh?” he offers, tugging away from your hold to wave down the bartender. Your brain feels like it’s frozen, like a computer that has glitched so badly no matter what key you press, it’s unresponsive.

“What do you like?” Felix asks you softly, which helps your brain function just a bit. The bartender is there as well, waiting.

“Whatever you’re having.”

He nods, seeming to know that you are processing intensely at the moment. A few seconds pass, you trying to logic why bruises on him and you mean something, but you’ve got nothing when he nudges you with his elbow and lifts his chin to indicate you both should find somewhere to sit.

You follow him, blindly, as he weaves through the weekend crowd, finding a small table in a far corner where the music and talk is muted. He sits, laying the two wine glasses on the table. You scoot in across from him, staring at the wine wine ripple in the glass before settling.

“Can I see?”

You meet his gaze and shrug a yes, knowing what he’s asking. You shove up one of your sleeves, inadvertently pressing the bruise which makes you inhale sharply. He leans forward, hand reaching out to hold your arm carefully.

“Fuck. That’s dark.” He lightly rubs his thumb over it, gentle. “I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have thought much about it,” you begin, feeling content with him touching you, even though he’s the one who left bruises. He’s warm, not just in temperature, but it’s like he emits a toasty energy that flows into you. It’s odd, but you like it. “Because I bruise pretty easily, and you did keep me from busting my face. But…” You touch the bruise on your cheek. “You barely touched me here.”

He follows your motion and peers closer. You actually stare back into his eyes, sparkly as they are with the bar’s array of lights.

“Fuck.”

His second cursing makes you smile even if you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because his freckles and generally soft demeanor make him seem innocent; i.e. not someone going around using the f-word so easily.

You’re also really enjoying the skin to skin contact. You weren’t even cold, but his touch feels secure, sheltering. Like you’re in an oversized armchair with a cup of tea, reading on a thunderstorm night.

“Do you know what it is?” His demeanor makes you think that he knows more than you, and you have to admit, you’re bothered that you’re so clueless right now. You’re used to being the smarter person on a date.

Which explains why you don’t date much and have been single for nearly two years now.

“I…no. I didn’t realize you had them too.” You sigh, and trace the marks on his hand that isn’t holding you. You don’t question the intimacy as you’re pretty sure whatever is going on is not a normal interaction with a man you only barely know, even if he is pretty. “Work has been slammed…I was going to go to the doctor if they didn’t fade soon.”

“They won’t. I mean, not on their own.” He stares at the mark on your arm. “Not without me.”

It’s like he’s talking in riddles. “Felix. What do you know?”

He lets go and you shiver as though a cold front blew through the bar, at you specifically. He takes the wine glass and sips it, closing his eyes as though he’s savoring it.

He must like wine because it seems like minutes upon minutes that he keeps his eyes closed.

“Look…” He opens his eyes and you are floored by how much pain echoes there. The same eyes that sparkled seconds ago. “You have questions and I think, think, I know the answers, but…fuck…this means–” He breaks off, dropping his head.

Is he crying?

“Felix….” You reach out, burdened, and place your hand over his. He jolts at your touch, but doesn’t pull away. He slots his fingers in between yours. “Please tell me what’s wrong? Can I help?”

“I need to go. I knew what it was. I just wanted it not to be true.” His voice cracks and he looks up, eyes welling. There’s a quiver in his lips, like maybe he wants to smile or maybe he wants to cry, or maybe it’s both. “I just need some time?” He stands up, leaving his glass and leaving your touch.

“But…?” What the fuck is going on?

He’s next to you, leaning down so your faces are close. You catch your breath.

“Soulmates. Look up soulmates.” He presses his mouth to your cheek before tearing away and disappearing in the ever-growing crowd. You stand up, to do something; call him back, chase after him…something. But he’s gone and you sit down again, staring at the two wine glasses. You take a sip of yours and grimace.

It just doesn’t taste quite right.

–

You take a cab home because you drink your wine, his, and order two cocktails (they all taste odd, but honestly it doesn’t matter by the time you get the first cocktail, you are such a lightweight). It’s dumb but you spend two hours at a bar, using Google on your phone.

At a bar. On a Friday night.

You get approached at least three times by someone either intent on chatting you up, or getting your coveted spot at the table. You basically ignore these approaches because you are intent.

Soulmates.

That’s what he’d said and though normally you would laugh derisively at the mere use of that term in anything other than some cliched romantic film, you find that the moment he said it, your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a tight grip.

So you search ‘soulmates’ which yields more links and pieces of information than you are willing to wade through.

You type in ‘bruises soulmates’ and that narrows it way down.

When you touch the first time, it leaves a mark; something similar to a bruise, but far more distinct. This is your soulmate.

“I met mine, because we ran into each other on the train. Literally. My hip is black and blue. How do I find them?”

The marks take hours to show up, so you have to retrace your steps to find them. Chances are they’re looking for you too.

“I can’t eat any more. It tastes like licking the inside of a dumpster.”

Food and drink will lose its pleasurable taste. It’ll become disgusting, revolting.

“I’ve sent out messages on all SNS. It’s been a week. The hospital keeps pumping fluids, but it’s not working. Someone please help me!”

The only way to survive is to be with your soulmate. Skin to skin contact for hours if you are sick or hurting. Not as long if it’s just daily need. You will no longer need food or drink. Water will be the only thing palatable.

You stumble out of the bar, Uber app open on your phone. The air outside is heavy from late summer humidity and it’s like you can’t catch your breath.

If you don’t find your soulmate, you will starve to death.

You can starve to death. You’re not even thirty years old yet, and death is now something more likely than ever.

You look at your arm, the sleeve still pushed up from earlier.

He doesn’t have very big hands, you muse. The mark is actually lighter and you realize that the little amount of contact you had with him has already started to heal.

Holy fuck.

Your Uber shows up and you practically throw yourself into the backseat as though someone nefarious is chasing you.

“You alright?” the driver asks, glancing back. “You run here?”

You are panting, your breath short from the magnitude of what you’ve just found out. Part of your brain denies it all. Surely this is bullshit. Soulmates, touch, inevitable death for those who lose their person.

It can’t be true.

But what you thought was just hormones when he touched you tonight; the warmth, the comfort, the irresistible draw…

You’ve dated. You’ve fucked. You’ve had men who looked great and those who looked less so. No one affects you the way the quiet-eyed, deep-voiced barista has in three encounters.

You give the driver your address and force yourself to stop looking at your phone before you get more nauseated, and look out the window.

You need to sleep before you can tackle whatever the fuck this is.

–

It strikes you two days later. You go through the weekend researching everything you can, or pointedly turning off your phone and your laptop in order to clean your apartment and reorganize your kitchen.

You look at the set of pots that you got two years ago because you wanted nicer, matching ones and now, you aren’t going to need them.

You’d been able to stomach one egg this morning, the desire for food already waning. You wonder if going to get your favorite donuts would be good, if life-changing information warranted donuts.

It hits you then.

Felix wants to be a baker.

And he’s going to lose his sense of taste.

You sink down to the floor of your kitchen with the weight of that revelation. You lean back against the lower cabinets and let that take hold.

By meeting you, Felix can’t pursue his dream.

You barely know him, but you know enough to understand perhaps a tenth of the loss he must be feeling knowing that he’s going to lose what he wanted to do with his life.

You did this. By nearly falling over, you have changed the direction of his life.

You enjoy food, and the loss of it isn’t something you’re looking forward to, but it doesn’t change your job or your life.

You cover your face when you realize that you’re crying.

It’s your fault.

You cry for longer than one would for a near-stranger before you force yourself back to your feet. You trudge toward your bedroom, seeking your phone that you’ve put on silent and plugged in. There are notifications for work, for social platforms, from your mom.

You don’t check them, but you search out the chat between you and your…

Soulmate.

<<I am so sorry.

What else can you say? There is nothing you can do because unless every source you’ve found online about this phenomenon is wrong and lying, the ball is rolling and nothing can stop it.

You set your phone back down, sitting on the edge of your bed. There’s a window across from you and the view is simply the brick building next to your apartment complex. There is nothing to really look at, but the simplicity of the brick, the gradient of burgundies and reds with beige caulk between is a lot easier to make sense of than anything else right now.

Your phone vibrates.

>>It’s not your fault.

There’s hardly anything you can say. You can state that it is. It is your fault. Without touching you, he’d go on with his life, pursuing his dreams like everyone should get to.

<<Regardless. I am. Very very sorry.

You don’t expect to hear from him. You set your phone aside, noticing that your hands are shaking. You feel exhausted, like the crying you’ve indulged in has drained you. Maybe you’re coming down with something.

Or maybe it’s something else. Something soulmate.

>>Can I come by?

You type out yes before you think through it fully. You send him your address and close your phone before getting back up to go to the bathroom and look at yourself.

Maybe it’s silly to make sure you don’t look like someone who has fought dust bunnies and lost, but you think that showering wouldn’t be amiss.

It’s a half hour later when there's a knock on your door. You’ve already buzzed him in, so it’s not that you’re unprepared to see him, but really, how would anyone be able to prepare for the groveling you want to do when you see him.

He stands in your doorway, eyes wide and you chastise yourself for changing because he obviously had no qualms, dressed in sweatpants, and a creased t-shirt. He looks terribly soft with rumpled hair, light wrinkles on his cheek from sleeping.

There are dark smudges of weariness under his eyes.

“I’m so–” you begin because surely apologizing profusely will relieve a little of the guilt you feel. He doesn’t let you finish, but strides in and wraps his arms around you. He’s got several inches of height on you (lack of heels) and rests his chin on top of your head. He closes the door with his foot, falling back on it, his hold on you firm.

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry,” he whispers. “It’s not your fault.”

“Kind of is. If we’d never touched…” The heat of him warms you through, as though you were icy but didn’t know it until touching him.

It’s uncanny, how much better you feel just by being in his arms. Soulmate or not, you think that anyone would be better receiving a hug from him.

“I could have let you fall. So I’m just as responsible.”

You feel your eyes well up, your throat constrict with grief. “But you were just being nice. That’s all. And this is your reward.” You bury your face into his shoulder, noting how bony he is and how nice he smells, like cookies. “I’m so so fucking sorry.”

You’re crying into his shirt and it’s embarrassing, but you can’t seem to stop. You feel his hand stroke your back, soothing.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

There’s a rumble against you, he’s chuckling. You lift your head to look up at him. He smiles sadly, releasing his hold to wipe under your eyes.

“You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re too nice. I would fix it, if I could. I would give you back–” He kisses you.

Oh. My. God.

If touching him casually or even being in his arms is comforting, kissing him is that feeling amped up to eleven. You actually feel light-headed and dizzy like you’re back at the bar drinking too much wine.

He presses one small kiss to the corner of your lips before drawing away. You whimper to lose that caress, but he keeps his arms around you like he knows you need it. He rests his head on the door, eyes fixed on you.

“Wow,” you breathe.

There’s a slight quirk of his lips, like he wants to laugh, but won’t at the moment.

You realize both of you are still standing in your little foyer so you draw away, but his hands tighten.

“I was just…just gonna invite you in.”

“That’s okay. I just…” He takes a deep breath. “Don’t let go?” You peer at him, seeing that the dark under his eyes has already lessened.

You nod, adjusting so your hand encloses around his. You lead him into your apartment, watch him as he looks around, eyes still wide, but seemingly less panicked now. You sit on your two person couch that is opposite your television. He sits next to you, looking at your bookshelves, covered in photo frames, books, knick-knacks from places you’ve gotten to go for work.

“I have to ask,” you say, making him look over at you. “What are you thinking? Right now?”

“I…I feel a little out of place,” he replies, glancing down at your clasped hands. “You have a real job and a nice place and I’m just a barista, trying to get a certificate.” The mention of his schooling makes you tighten your grip and he squeezes back, still not looking at you. “Makes me wonder if the universe screwed up.”

“I don’t think that’s fair.”

He looks up then.

“You are this beautiful, ridiculously kind human who smiles like the sun and because of me, lost your dream and you’re still here. You should hate me.”

He covers your mouth with his untethered hand. “I don’t. I couldn’t.” His hand drifts to cup your cheek. “I’m not mad at you.” He takes another deep breath. “I’m mad at the fallout. Like…it sucks.” He nods. “It really does. That’s why I just needed some time.”

“I’m sorry. I only gave you like two days.”

His thumb runs over your lower lip and you feel like you’re melting.

“I wanted to see you. I can already tell that I need to…” He blushes. “I need to touch you.”

“You look less drained.” You touched his heated cheek. “I felt out of it, too.”

“Me too.” He leans in, face close, watching you. “I didn’t ask. About kissing you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Weird circumstances.” You hope your smile does half of what his smile does for you. “You’re stuck with me unless you want to starve to death.”

He half-grins, his hand still on your face, tracing along your nose. “It’s pretty dramatic, right?”

“It really is.”

“You don’t mind?”

“What?”

“Being stuck with me?”

“No.” You’re louder than you meant to be. He blinks at the emphasis. “I mean, I don’t know you all that well, but what I do know…” You take his hand from your face, holding it as tight as the other hand. “I like.”

He nods. “Can we…” He takes a breath. “Can we touch more?”

It is weird and you both laugh at the awkward and latent innuendo.

“Like nothing…” He stops talking, expression helpless. You just nod.

He watches as you let go of his hand to get close. His dark eyes seem darker when you pause to figure out how exactly you plan to touch him.

“Here.” He pulls you in, aligning you to his chest, your back resting against him, his arms around you, his chin coming to sit on your shoulder. “The longer we touch, those bruises will fade.”

You lift his hands so you can see that his marks are lighter since you saw them Friday night. He presses his face where your shoulder meets your neck. It tickles, but you don’t shy away.

“I feel like we’ve gone from acquaintances to whatever this is really quick.” It’s an obvious statement, a pointless one, but things are progressing at an exponential speed that you need to voice it, if only to remind yourself and him that it’s real.

“It’s okay, though?” he asks softly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but even beyond the need to touch you, I want to.” His chin rests on your shoulder again.

“You do?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “I thought you were pretty when you came in for the interview. I think I would have tried to talk to you if you ever came back, even without the rest of it.”

You’re still playing with his hands, absorbing his words.

“This whole thing is weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know about soulmates before?”

You feel his chin as he nods. “My grandmother’s second husband and her. My grandfather died and at age sixty-three or something, my grandmother bumped into this man at her favorite bakery. Bruises and everything. She told me the story when I was about ten, when they decided to get married. No one believed her, but I did. It just made sense when you saw them together. But it’s rare. Like…there are accounts of it all over the world, but not a high percentage.” He noses your ear. “What did you find out? You researched, didn’t you?”

“If you call googling for too many hours, proper research.” Being in his arms is slowly making you feel less weary and calmer. You’re still sad and worried, but your body feels less like debilitated frozen tundra. “I guess we’re lucky that it wasn’t hard to know who it was. There are stories…of people…” You stop talking, overwhelmed by the fact that this could have gone so badly. “I’m glad I knew it was you immediately. Like I meet so many random people and I–”

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

You’re both quiet for several minutes. You’ve stopped playing with his hands and he’s just wrapped around you even more snugly.

“How do we do this?”

“Well, I’m going to quit school tomorrow. The semester is nearly over and I haven’t paid for next semester yet, so that’s money saved.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” His hand slips under your shirt and you tremble at the energy pulse that such a slight touch does to you. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” You ponder for a second. “Do we need to do this every day?”

“I think it’s encouraged, and necessary. Like to go too long not in contact is…well, I felt like a zombie until I held you.”

“I hope you don’t need alone time.”

He chuckles. “Not too much. You?”

“Some.” That’ll be an adjustment. Someone wanting to spend hours with you. More than just the occasional meet-up with a friend. “Do…you…god, this is gets more and more bizarre…should you move in with me?”

The gentle motion of his hand stills. “Would you…would that be okay?”

“I mean, we should probably find a place together, but I still have a few months left on my lease. You?”

He sits up and you move away, though you notice his hand stays on your skin, following as you adjust to face him.

“I’m rooming with some guys. Month to month.” His eyes are wide. “Really?”

“I mean…will it make it easier?”

He chuckles. “I have a twin bed.”

“Mine’s a queen.”

“You really are so much more of an adult than me.”

You bat at his arm. “Stop saying that. You aren’t any less. You work and go…went to school.”

“Yeah.” He stares at you for a few seconds. “You’re willing to just let me move in?”

“I mean, we can have sleepovers if that’s easier.”

He laughs, covering his face with his hands for a second before making sure he’s still touching you with a hand on your knee. “I don’t have a lot of stuff. My baking stuff…that I guess I need to sell.”

You lace your fingers with his. “I’m–”

“You don’t need to say it.” He shrugs. “It just is what it is. Anyway, clothes, not a lot. I have my computer and that’s kinda…” He looks around. “Do you have another bedroom?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a makeshift office/storage unit right now.” You make a face. “I should probably get rid of some of it. Do you have a big computer?”

He shrugs again. “I built it. I game and fiddle with computers in my free time.”

You move closer. “How are you that interesting? It’s not fair. You’re ridiculously pretty, you bake, and you do computery things?”

His ears, cheeks and neck all flush. “It’s not that interesting…”

“It is to me,” You point at him with your connected hands. “I just do the news stuff.”

“And zone out.”

You laugh. “And zone out. Regularly.”

He brings you back to rest against his chest, a deep sigh releasing. “So…I guess…we’re moving in together?”

You aren’t horribly impulsive usually. In big things you try to think logically and rationally. But that seems to have been tossed aside currently.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

You feel his lips on your cheek.

–

It’s a month later, after you’ve emptied out the second bedroom with as much as you can let go off, Felix moves in with his stuff (the computer set-up reminds you of like the command bridge in Star Trek or something), and you’ve learned how to sleep in bed with a person you aren’t actually sleeping with (despite the touch thing, both of you seem to avoid talking about anything past necessary touch).

The progression the soulmate-ness has had is different for both of you. You lost your taste for food and drink well before he did. It’s nearly three weeks to the day you two met that he can’t eat one of his galettes because it tastes like the way wet dog smells.

He cries in your arms.

You handled working over eight hours a day as well as you always have, but if it moved to twelve hours, you found Felix at the apartment, on the couch or bed, looking more fragile and delicate than normal. The toll your separation took on his body was far worse than the toll on your body.

It took some adapting and adjusting; trial and error to see what worked for the both of you. If it was going to be a long day, Felix would leave work and come find you at the station, or you’d come to him just to sit and hold hands for a half hour before one of you had to go. It helped.

For the first time since being on your own, you have to worry about someone else and yes, at times, it can be frustrating; overall, it’s nice. It’s nice to come home to someone.

“I can’t do it,” Felix comes in late from the coffeehouse. You came home early and are spending your time trying to figure out what one does with a kitchen and all that cabinet space if one no longer eats.

“Can’t do it?”

He doesn’t stop in his path, dropping his bag on the ground as he toes off his shoes. You barely can say much else before he’s wrapped around you in what has become a regular habit of his. In your arms the moment you’re both home.

You can’t complain even if it thwarts your thought process about the kitchen.

“The coffee smell is awful,” he mutters into your hair. “Like, I thought not tasting it would be okay, but the smell is just as bad. All day, every day…” he sighs. “I almost quit.”

“Maybe you should. I make enough for you to take a break for a little bit.”

“I’m not…” He sighs again. “I don’t like that. It’s your money.”

“And therefore I can help you out.” You rub up and down his back, soothing him. “You haven’t had much time to figure out a new plan.”

He moves so his face is in the crook of your neck, nuzzling. Normally you giggle because it tickles, but lately when his lips are anywhere near you, it’s like every nerve you have is on high alert.

“I think I’m avoiding it.”

“That’s okay too.” You hurry to continue when you feel his body stiffen as though he wants to argue with you. “For now. It’s a lot.”

He lifts his head, but not before brushing a soft kiss on your neck which sends you down a path that you’ve tried to avoid thinking about with Felix in mind. A path that includes not only sleeping in your bed.

“I…” He watches you for a few seconds and you can feel your face heating with his scrutiny. “I’m gonna game for a bit.” He then sees that you have all the plates and cups and paraphernalia on the counters. “Unless you need a hand?”

“Go shoot something digitally. I’m good.”

He smiles that soft smile of his. The one that makes you want to cozy up with him on the couch, his head in your lap and mindlessly watch a movie.

“Sure?”

You nod, and start to move back to the kitchen problem when he drops another kiss, this time on your cheek. You should be getting used to this, and perhaps you are, but it still floors you. The feel of him, the subsequent burst of soulmate voltage that it emits.

He doesn’t seem to notice that every time he kisses you, your brain pauses like a video buffering. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe kissing you doesn’t do much more than just heal in the soulmate way.

He hasn’t kissed you on the lips since that first time. You want him too. You’ve thought about it way too much, even when you’re supposed to be working.

You should say something. You should kiss him, and often. But you hold back. You don’t know why.

He’s had so much of his life uprooted because of you, you don’t want to add the burden of your sexual wants onto his plate.

He shuffles off to the second bedroom and you eventually go back to working on the kitchen.

He calls your name about an hour later, after you have given up on the dusting because it’s too much, and have ended up on the couch, looking through your SNS feed to find that there isn’t much new in the world.

“Hmm?”

“I think…I think I had an idea.”

You get up and wander over to that room, more Felix’s than yours now. You stand in the doorway, eyes adjusting to the darkness because there’s only a lamp that he keeps on by his set-up.

He wheels around in his ergonomic chair.

“What’s your idea?”

“One of my friends,” He waves toward his screen, “Asked me a question about what to add to his computer to boost its…” He chuckles immediately when you furrow your brow. “You don’t care about that.”

“I will attempt to understand it?”

“Nevermind.” He reaches out his hands toward you and you walk in, suspicious. He latches on and pulls you into his lap, which just makes you freeze even more than the nightly cuddles. “I gave him about three different options and he asked if I’d do it for him. He’d pay me.” He cradles your face in his hands. “He’d pay me.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“I mean…maybe that’s it. I could fix or enhance, I guess, computers. I know too much about it for just fiddling with my own.” He trails his fingers down to your neck and you tremble. “Maybe this is what I should do.”

Even in the dim light, you can see how bright his eyes are. It reminds you of when you met him, before everything changed.

“If you want. I imagine you probably do know more than the average person. I’ve heard you ramble enough to your friends on that thing.” You smile even if the heat of his legs is burning you in the best way. “Will it make you happy?”

His infectious joy fades a little. “It might.” With his finger, he draws an amorphous shape on your skin. “I think it might.”

“Then you should do it.” You pat his shoulders, getting ready to remove yourself from him because being on his lap, facing him, being so close is making you want more than you think either of you are ready for.

His hands slip to your waist to keep you from leaving.

“Felix, what are you–?”

“You make me happy, you know that, right? Being here with you, coming home to you or vice versa makes me happy.” His gaze is zeroed in on you, and it’s a lot. Having his focus.

“You don’t have to say stuff like that.”

He adjusts you so you’re nearer, his hands clasped at the small of your back. “I’m not just saying that. I mean it.” His lips turn down in concern. “Aren’t you? Happy?”

“With you? God, yes.” Sometimes with him, you do this. You say things before thinking it through. “Even when you hog the covers.”

He looks a bit sheepish, but doesn’t apologize.

“But my life didn’t derail because you entered it.”

He touches his nose to yours. “Mine didn’t either. It just changed direction. Maybe a little more dramatically than yours.” He purses his lips in thought. “I only worry about the job stuff because well…I want to work in something I like.”

“Of course you do.” You comb back his hair, longer than when you met him; shaggy and probably needs a cut, but you really like it. “If you want to do this, I think you should.”

“It might take a while for me to make much.”

You point at yourself. “Do I look worried?”

He smiles, teeth flashing, eye crinkles, and your heart flutters.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper, tracing the curves of his smile and cheeks. His lips part at the compliment, and your finger slides to his teeth. “I…uh, sorry.”

He kisses the tip of your finger to reassure you. You swallow your more lustful feelings and smile.

“You better get back to your friends.” You try to stand up, but his arms tighten. “I should…go.”

“Why?” he asks softly. “Why can’t you stay right here? I want you to.”

“You do?”

He says your name in the same whisper and kisses you reverently. You dissolve into him, scooting closer so you can embrace him. There’s a soft groan, and it’s not from you.

“Am I too heavy?” you ask, breaking the kiss. He pouts at you and shakes his head.

“It’s…it’s not that.”

It takes you a second and your eyes widen before you look down.

“Oh.”

He chuckles. “You haven’t noticed?”

“Well, I mean, in the morning, but that’s like…all guys.” His cheeks turn pink as you continue. “I…I wasn’t assuming that it had to do with me.”

“You can assume.”

You stare breathlessly at him.

“If you want, I mean.” His eyes dart away from yours. “If I’m the only one turned on here, you can pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Just because it’s not as obvious doesn’t mean I’m not.”

You feel him raise his head and meet your gaze. If he can tell your face is hot in the shadowy room, he makes no mention of it.

“Yeah?”

You nod before hearing some tinny voices coming from his headset. “Your friends.” You nod again toward his computer screen. “Your game.” You don’t even try to move out of his hold, but his arm wraps around you so you’re nearly chest to chest.

“Don’t move.” He grabs his headset from around his neck and slips it on, pressing a button on the side. “Guys…something’s come up. Min…I’ll come by tomorrow with a better graphics card and install it for you.” He presses the same button amid all the protests you hear, and takes the headset off. He tosses it on his computer desk before returning to hold you, with one minor adjustment.

One hand slides up the back of your top, searing. He watches your face, intent. You tug at the collar of his shirt, and he stands up gingerly, letting you slide down until your feet touch the floor. He pulls off his shirt before taking your hands in his to bring them to his chest and arms.

“I didn’t know,” he says as you outline the planes and facets with your fingers.

“Didn’t know?”

He dips his head so you have to look up into his eyes, away from his beautiful skin. “Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“How could I not?” You let your hands trail up his sides to his neck and then to his face. “You are beautiful, both inside and out, Lee Felix.”

He doesn’t answer but kisses you with none of the former softness or gentleness. His hands are gripping your arms, directing you backwards out of the room and toward the bedroom. All of your kisses have been chaste, as though the crossing into using tongue would mean something else.

Perhaps it did. Perhaps it’s not just about a mutual need to live, a mutual admiration, though that’s all true. Perhaps being soulmates is just the beginning of having a partner. In everything.

You feel the bed at the back of your legs, unaware that you’ve traveled that much of the apartment because Felix might be good at gaming, but he’s exceptionally good at kissing. It’s all you can do to hold on as he consumes you, tongue stroking yours, teeth nibbling. You fall back on the bed, and he follows, climbing on top of you, mouth still seeking yours. His hands have slid under your top, mapping out your shape with fervor.

The calm and quiet of him has broken.

He draws away to look down at you, panting. “Okay?”

“Yes, so much,” you answer breathlessly. He smirks and peels off your shirt before sitting and undoing his pants. “Hey.”

He pauses and glances at you. You can see his hands trembling.

“We don’t have to rush.”

“I know. I know, but I…” He leans to kiss your jaw. “I want you so much.” He slips a finger under your bra strap and slides it down your shoulder. “Sleeping next to you is both wonderful and fuckin’ torture.”

His grin when you laugh only lasts a second before he pulls you close and on top of him. You work his pants off, trying not to get sidetracked by his undoing of your bra and ensuing caresses. It takes a few minutes, both of you distracting the other in the process, but eventually, gloriously, the clothing is gone and you’re both looking at each other in awe.

Beautiful. Inside and out.

“C’mere,” his voice drops to a decibel you aren’t sure anyone else can hear (you don’t want them too because he’s your soulmate and you are so damn grateful). He places soft kisses all over your face, making you giggle as he props up pillows at your back. “We’ve never talked about past relationships.”

“Oh. I mean…” You twist your lips thinking about your last date let alone last relationship. “I haven’t…work kinda replaced everything else, you know? I’m clean…it’s been at least a year.”

“Six months. Had to move away.” He eases in between your legs, hands rubbing your thighs almost carelessly. “Clean too.” He leans down, face inches away and those perfect freckles blurring together.

“Was it serious?”

“I think it could have been,” he says honestly. “You?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been serious about someone till you. Even before I saw the bruises,” You run your hands up his arms, his muscles taut from holding himself up. “You stuck in my mind. Chan teased me about it.”

He grins before slipping one hand down your chest, your stomach and farther down… “You weren’t kidding about being turned on, were you?”

You half-heartedly slap his shoulder because one, it’s more than obvious and two, his tender exploration of you is dizzying. The soulmate energy, with no clothing to bar skin to skin contact, feels like you’ve laid down in a meadow on a warm day; not too hot, no bugs, no pollen, nothing but heat and light and tranquility.

Then his fingers lightly touch your clit and the tranquility liquifies into heat and lust and want.

“There, huh?” The teasing, soft but dark, makes you want to say something snarky, but he’s kissing you, his fingers circling until you're gasping against his mouth.

“Lix, please,” you whine. His lips leave yours before he pushes in. “Oh god.”

As with everything, the soulmate need for touch just amplifies everything; how he feels sliding in, each thrust, the grazing of your g-spot. It’s a million times more and when you break, and feel him break; it’s not surprising that for a few seconds you aren’t sure where you are.

Then the puffs of his shortened breath on your skin, the length of his body covering yours, one hand trailing up and down your arm.

“You back?” he asks, voice gruff.

“I think so.”

He lifts his head, eyes at half-mast, smile sleepy and well-contented. “We should do that again…often.”

You roll your eyes, a grin twitching at the corner of your lips. He kisses you, open-mouthed, but delicate.

“I am really really glad you caught me that day.”

He stares down at you, eyes fond. “I’m glad you caught me too.”

a/n #2 - the coffee drink, fiery redhead, is not mine, but created by a coffeehouse in my parents' town. i love it, and make it at home now.

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

521 notes · View notes

hyukalyptus · 1 month ago

Text

nsfw alphabet - hueningkai ! - cw. some mention of spanking (paddles/whips) in k, r, and t.

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex) - biggest snuggle bug. i think he'd be too lazy to rly clean up even, just reaches for a t-shirt off the ground to clean y'all up a bit, then grabs u to snuggle, either spooning u and rubbing ur ass or ur laying on his chest :3

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) - ooooh ykw, i've never thought about what his favorite body part on himself is. probably his chest? i feel like he's pretty proud of his broad chest, and ofc fave body part on u is ur tummy

c = cum (anything to do with cum) - hm..likes stuffing it back inside u after it drips out

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) - rly wants to beg for a devil's threeway but is way too nervous ><

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) - ykw. i'd say average..? like he's had a few partners, maybe one or two one night stands, but definitely not a ~player~ he knows what he's doin!! very very good at making u feel good. i feel like he's the kind that's hyper aware of what the other person is feeling and is always trying to prioritize them.

f = favorite position - missionary (the jiggle)

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) - oh my god i think he's so fun during sex! i think he doesn't take it too seriously, but still understands the intimacy of it. like he does not get held up by the little things. likes trying new things and giggling at things with u during sex. ugh. so hot.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) - i genuinely think he's a pretty hairy guy and keeps it that way.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) - full on sweepin ya off ur feet. knows all the right buttons to press to turn u on, knows exactly what to say, knows how to say them, etc.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon) - pillow humper.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks) - feel like he loves spanking ya a lil harder than most, like he loves paddles and whips with feathers, etc., and ice.

l = location (favorite places to do the do) - the bed. or shower for hand stuff.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) - what u wear! loves seeing ur body exposed ofc, but loves when you love what ur wearing, just thinks its such a turn on to have someone comfortable in their own skin and clothes lol

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) - i don't think he loves the "please stop" or "no!!" kinda stuff. like if u say no or stop, he gonna stop. doesn't like messin around with that.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) - loves receiving :p think he's a whiny mess, especially licking his balls OMG. as far as skill.. he's a munch. gets all slow and sensual with it too.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) - somewhere in the middle (with penetration at least), like he's not overly rough, but likes a nice rhythm to it.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) - not his fave. might have one in a dressing room backstage to get hyped up but that's about it.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) - yes! i think he'd definitely be down to experiment. he'd be a lot more wary of any "painful" stuff but since he loves spanking so much, he'll try them, just super super cautious.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) - i'd say he could last a while if he wanted, but gets kinda impatient. can definitely hold it off until u cum first though.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) - has absolutely no problem with them whatsoever, just doesn't have a lot himself. likes paddles and whips like i said, but doesn't have a ton of the other kinds of toys. would definitely use one if u wanted. and maybe he's got a pocket pussy somewhere around here.... but honestly prefers his hand.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease) - not a tease imo.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) - WHINY WHINY WHINY and grunty .

w = wild card (a random headcanon) - LOVES it when u pull his hair. like literally can't even do it in public or he'll moan.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) - longer than average. kinda veiny.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?) - lower than normal ig ? idk i don't have an incredibly high sex drive myself and i see myself a lot in him so maybe that's where im coming from, but probably cums...once every 3 days at least?

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) - love love loves a good nap right after he cums. like i said, just kinda grabs whatever t-shirt or towel he can find to wipe y'all asap to get to cuddling and napping <3

200 notes · View notes

slayfics · 1 month ago

Text

Unknown Pleasures Ch. 4

You’ve had a crush on Katsuki Bakugo since joining UA, but will another student change your mind?

666 words

Chapter links

Artwork by @bythevay 💜

You sat in the infirmary, knees pulled to your chest. Across the room, Hitoshi was still unconscious in the hospital bed. Recovery Girl had healed him, but she shared that it would take some time for him to wake up.

The scene replayed in your mind. The way your emotions had got the better of you caused you to lash out at Katsuki, Aizawa stepping in between you both, and the defeated look in Katsuki's eyes.

Could he really be upset you had grown feelings for Hitoshi? If it meant that much to him, why wasn't he vocal about his feelings?

It seemed to you that your presence was always a burden to him. The fight you two had the night previously solidified that for you.

Hitoshi stirred in the hospital bed. His hand came up to rub his face, immediately followed by a grimace after aggravating the burn on his face.

The pain on Hitoshi's face washed away any lingering thoughts of Katsuki.

"Don't," you whispered, pulling his hand away from his face to prevent the dazed hero from scratching at his injuries any further.

"Hm?" Hitoshi hummed, turning to the sound of your voice. Eyes blinking trying to make sense of where he was. The harsh hospital lights illuminated your presence, causing Hitoshi to wonder if this was a dream.

"You're in the infirmary," you explained to him.

Memories came flooding back to him, the venomous look in Katsuki's eyes, followed by a loud bang, hot heat, and then nothing.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled weakly. Even though those words weren't nearly enough, it was all you had.

Hitoshi blinked at you confused again, "There's no need to apologize, this is part of being in the hero course, right?"

"Yes but, Bakugo wouldn't have gone that hard on you if it wasn't because...," You trailed off not knowing how to put the rest into words.

"Oh that, well there's no need to apologize for that either. I know I lost the spar with him, and he messed me up badly but- it's hard to feel like I really lost. Since you're here with me and not him," Hitoshi explained, unable to keep the smirk off of his face.

Even through the bandages and burn marks Hitoshi's shit-eating grin shined up at you. A high that no physical pain could bring him down from. You were here in the infirmary for him, concerned about him, finally leaving Katsuki behind. Finally giving someone else a chance, someone who wouldn't take your affection for granted.

You let out a soft sigh at Hitoshi's unwavering persistence to win you over, "Scoot over," you instructed him.

Hitoshi eyed you curiously, as he scooted over, and you made your way to join him sitting on the infirmary bed.

"You really don't care about what happened today?" You asked, astounded that Hitoshi had such a level head about the situation.

"Nope. Not as long as you're ok." He stated.

"Me ok!? I'm not the one sitting in a hospital bed," you pointed out.

"Yeah, but I already told you I don't care about that. Bakugo's tantrum today was because he realized he was losing you. That he's wasted too much of his time not appreciating you. I would never do such a thing. I'd never push you aside, or make you have to second guess how I really feel. So- what do you say? Can we make this official?" Hitoshi asked. "Once I'm healed up I'll take you out, anywhere you want to go, and I promise to make you happy."

"How can I say no after everything I've put you through? Besides, it's nice to feel wanted for a change," you said placing a gentle kiss on Hitoshi's cheek.

"Hey!" A voice yelled starting you both. "He needs to rest! What are you doing in here!?" Recovery girl scolded. "Out out!"

You jumped out of bed, "I'll see you soon then," You smiled at Hitoshi before being pushed out by Recovery Girl.

sinners: @unofficialsapphire @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango @reneinii @peachsukii @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams @bythevay @aespie @thisbicc @bumblebeebutter @luvsymai @h3artz4soph

116 notes · View notes

reneesghostinthelivingroom · 1 month ago

Note

hi can you do a poly!plastics x fem!reader where the plastics go all out when asking reader to prom?

Will You Go To Prom With Us?

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly)

|| Warnings; light swearing, Regina being controlling, short drabble

|| Summary; the girls plan the perfect prom proposal for reader, completely surprising her with it.

Requests open!

Started; october 8th

Finished; october 9th

~~~

Prom was very quickly approaching and you can bet your ass that the plastics were excited. They've been buzzing with ideas over the last week on how to ask you to prom. Of course you've already been dating the three girls, but they still wanted to do some special ask. Karen was the one who kept giving the most ideas and at random times too.

The three would be in the school bathroom just doing their makeup together and she would say something like," oh! oh! Space!"

Regina stared at Karen in confusion," space?"

"For prom!!" Karen smiled, Gretchen glanced at Regina and Regina rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, next." She'd dismiss the idea. Like she did every idea. She wanted it to be absolutely perfect. It just had to be.

It took them a few more days but they managed to get everything together perfectly. Regina was sure you would like this. You just had to. There was no doubt in her mind that you wouldn't say yes.

When everything was setup at Regina's place, all they had to do was get you there. Gretchen took out her phone and gave you a call, glancing at Karen with a massive smile on her face.

"Hey, Gretchen!" You answered the phone and she seemed to just smile more.

"Babe! Wanna come to dinner? We're all meeting at Regina's soon," Gretchen explained.

You definitely liked the sound of that, it's been a hot minute since you and your girlfriends had the time to all go out together. They've been super busy the last week or so, though you weren't sure why. "Yeah! I'd love that. I'll meet you there soon, just let me get ready."

You'd spend the next hour or so getting ready, making sure you had the absolute perfect outfit. Wanting your girls to see you at your best. You did some light makeup, which is mainly what took up most of your time. When you were finally satisfied, you took a picture of yourself in your mirror then zoomed in. Doing some last minute checks to make sure it wasn't messed up anywhere or you didn't miss anything.

Once you were completely and 100% satisfied, you went to Regina's. She didn't live too far from you so you were able to just walk there. Upon getting there, you went inside and looked around for your girls. The house seemed dim, only lit by candle lights. Part of you wondered if Ms George was home and trying some new weird trend. She always seemed to have something going on. You decided to head upstairs to Regina's room, but didn't find them there until some lights in the backyard caught your eye. Maybe they're back there?

Going back downstairs, you made your way to the backyard. Reaching the back door you looked down and noticed a trail of rose petals and candles lined carefully along it. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on.

You opened the door and followed the path all the way to the back of Regina's lawn where a table had been setup with a red silk cloth and even more roses and candles in the middle of it.

The girls walked over, each holding a sign. Karen's read 'Will you go' Gretchen's said 'to prom' and Regina's said 'with us?'

Altogether; 'Will you go to prom with us?'

It took a moment for it to sink in what was happening. They were asking you to prom. You smiled from ear to ear and quickly nodded," yes! 1000 times yes!"

They seemed relieved and Karen was the first to break way from the sign holding, running over to you and kissing you deeply. You held the taller girl close to you, smiling as you kissed her back with arms wrapped around her waist.

As the kiss broke, Karen grinned. Looking at you as though you had hung the stars for her," she said yes!!!" She looked back at your other girlfriends, Gretchen laughed and smiled. Running over to join the two of you and giving you a kiss too.

"Of course she said yes, Karen." Regina rolled her eyes but walked over, taking the signs from the others and setting them down before giving you a kiss after Gretchen," do you like it?" She asked, her tone quiet as she glanced at their setup.

You nodded assuringly as you cupped her cheek," yes, baby. It's perfect."

Regina relaxed further. She'd been more on edge about this then she cared to admit, she knew you would have said yes. That wasn't her concern. Her worries were in if they had done this romantically enough. If you would have liked it. This was for prom, after all.

Once the girls got all settled together, Ms George brought out their dinner and handed it to them with a smile.

"How'd it go, ladies?" She asked, looking around the table.

"She said yes!!" Karen smiled, still beaming.

Ms George looked to you with a soft gaze that you couldn't quite read, then the rest of you again," I'll be inside if you need anything. Enjoy your evening, girls."

With that she walked back in, letting the four of you enjoy your evening together under the stars and candle light.

99 notes · View notes

jjkilll · 5 months ago

Text

-✫HMHAS | i.LUNCH | JJK✫-

— pairing | artist jk x actress y/n

— summary | Jungkook realizes he has a crush on you. One small problem, You're his sister's best friend who she's made clear is off limits.

— warning | smut

— word count | 3.5K

— song | LUNCH - Billie Eilish

2:47 pm

"Jungkook, Y/n is coming over will you straighten up the house before she gets there? She'll be there before I get home." Jungkook listens as his younger sister and roommate explain. "Y/n? I haven't heard about her in forever."

"Yeah, I know! She moved away for school and work, but she's back in town visiting family for a month. So please make sure the house looks good."

"Will do," he replies before hanging up. You haven't seen Jungkook since you and Jangmi's high school graduation. You and Jangmi have grown up together and you two were inseparable. Jungkook always found you adorable, your braces and round cheeks made him think you were as cute as a doll. He couldn't even lie and say he wasn't excited to catch up with you. Your brother Stephen and Jungkook were excellent friends and seeing you reminded him of his good friend. Your families were close and it had been a while, now as adults you could drink and talk shit about your family drama which everyone probably overindulges in.

Jungkook cleaned the shared house and took the best liquor out of the cabinet and the nice crystal his mother bought for him on his 19th birthday. Suddenly he hears a knock at the door. He quickly runs to the door and opens it.

There you stand. No braces but still with the cutest cheeks in the world. Your hair short and brown shined against the sun. You were not the little girl he remembers, you were...hot. "Jungkook!" you exclaim hugging him quickly. "Wow, Y/n you look..."

"I know the plane ride was a little rocky, my hair is kinda a mess. I forgot how humid it is here," you explain brushing through your hair with your hands. Jungkook stood there in awe, his arms still out from the hug. "You look great, is what I was trying to say." he finishes.

"Don't flatter me just let me in, it's hot," you say pointing behind him. "Oh right, sorry" he apologies letting you by.

you kick off your shoes and say "So... do I get a house tour? It's so crazy that we're homeowners now." you say reminiscing. "Yeah sure, although Jangmi will for sure be upset so just act surprised when she wants to show you around." You giggle at his idea and follow behind as you two meet in the corridor. "Don't worry Kook, I can keep a secret." He smiles and asks, "Would you like a drink?" you nod and he pours whiskey into two glasses. He hands you one and you clink them together. "cheers." you say softly.

Your voice sounds like honey to him, smooth, sweet, and soft. He wondered if you'd taste the same. He quickly shook the crazy thought out of his head, he had never thought of you that way and couldn't quite understand why he'd felt that way to begin. You stop at the first door in the hall. "This is my studio and office. It's the best room in the house in my opinion." Jungkook was an artist, and his paintings were gaining popularity in the art world pretty quickly. Everyone seemingly loved his art and so did you. "Can I go in?" you ask starstruck by the art. He nods still standing in the doorway as you walk in. "Kook, these are amazing. I love every single one seriously, you're talented." He shakes his head putting it down shyly. "and you're still so humble. I don't get you." You joke. He smiles, "Thanks Y/n, it means a lot coming from you, really."

"I wish I did though... get you, maybe I'd understand your art more. Get inside your head a little." You say really scanning each canvas not necessarily paying him any attention and taking a small sip from the alcohol. The way you spoke made his body tingle. The sultriness of your voice was music to his ears. "Can I buy one?" You turn around asking him. "You don't have to pay, let it be a gift," he says rubbing his neck. "Hell no! If everyone else has to pay then so do I. And this deserved payment." You point to an abstract piece that no one but your families would be able to recognize. "You painted my our backyards," You pointed out.

You and Jangmi became friends after having to line up according to birthday in 1st grade. So every year until you were both 18 you had a joint birthday party. With your family's gates opening up to each other you basically have a big baseball field-sized birthday party filled with all of your family and friends. It's something you missed after moving away for school.

"Now seriously it'd be an honor if you took it, you're actually the first person to guess it right on the first try and not turn your head to the side and say 'ohhhhh'. You definitely deserve it more." He laughs. "Well, I appreciate it, Kook. It reminds me of how much fun we had as kids." You say giggling along with him, taking another sip from the cup.

"It actually reminds me, I can tell you now so it's not weird and we're grown up but I used to have the most intense crush on you. You took Audriana Cooper to prom your senior year. You were 18 turning 19 and I was 13 getting ready to turn 14 two days later, and I sobbed in the back of my parents' car after watching you make out with her. I did my makeup and everything, hoping you'd notice me it's kinda sad if you think too hard so just... don't" You laugh and he giggles with you.

In that moment you remember how cute you thought he was back then. You'd think about him more than you expressed to Jangmi, but you'd love it when he'd hug you a little tighter so you could smell him. You had always been so drawn to him until the prom incident. Your mom explained to you that you and Jungkook would never work since Jungkook was about to graduate high school whilst you still had three years to finish. Soon after your little crush dissipated, and Jungkook was just your best friend's hot older brother and not SpiderMan or something.

"I don't really know what to say, I can say I was kinda the guy to fool around," he says embarrassed at the memory. "I can't blame you, if anybody looked as hot as you did at 19, I'm sure they'd do the same." You sip your drink once again.

"Are you saying I look old now? I'm only 26." he jokes with you. "No! No! I didn't mean it like that, I mean I still think you're hot." You say before quickly trying to correct yourself. "I just mean like you're attractive... not like in a weird way like I'm super attracted to you, I mean like I'm not saying that I do not find you attractive, I'm just saying- " You stop to take a breath realizing you were rambling on. "You know what maybe day drinking isn't my thing. I say weird things... I'm learning." you sat the cup down on his desk. You close your eyes trying to not be so embarrassed by your randomness.

"Maybe- maybe we should go to the next room?" You question looking at him. "Not like that. I mean you should show me the next room with us both standing outside of it." Jungkook looks at you and laughs. You embarrassed and watched him and joined in after realizing he wasn't upset by your awkwardness. "Someone's a lightweight, huh? Didn't do much drinking in college I guess." you laugh. You shake your head.

"Well if it makes things less weird. When I opened the door I was stunned. Your beautiful Y/n." You blush but turn your head to the window not to look at him, hoping he wouldn't notice. "Come on, I'll show you the next room over." You follow behind him. "This is Jangmi's room, we kinda have our own floors, her office is on my floor." He explains. "We found that working like this is better for us."

"I bet you're so proud of Jangmi. She's found success quickly." You mention Jangmi was a fashion designer, he has recently found herself being the creator director for Prada. She was truly talented. You were beyond happy for her too. She deserves it all.

"I am. Jangmi is still my annoying little sister, but just successful." you laugh. "I'm sorry," you say looking at him with a sad expression. "For what?" he asked confused. "I missed you so much, Stephen always calls to tell me the good things that happened here. It makes me wish I never moved away."

"I mean but look at you, little miss actress. Not even little you have an Emmy. Talk about stardom." Jungkook says bringing up your most recent accomplishment.

You didn't like to talk about your career, acting was fun and the greatest thing to ever come into your life, but it's definitely made you a different person. You went from being a little shy girl to a movie star. "Stop..." You blush looking away from him again. It reminded him you're still the same. Still so cute.

"Don't ever feel bad for chasing your dreams, Y/n. Stephen, Jangmi, and I... we've all chosen different paths. Don't feel bad for choosing yours."

You would be lying if you said Jungkook didn't lift a little weight off your shoulders. Moving to LA was a huge deal and when you first moved you regretted it and often spent nights wondering what was right for you. But, he's right, you chose and thankfully you chose right.

"Plus we're all still here. Look..." he says motioning to himself. "I'm me and you're you. We're still the same." He smiles holding his hand out for a hug. You slowly walk into his arms and you hugs you tightly. "I'm serious, you're great." He kisses the top of your head. "Thanks, Kook"

"What the hell?!" You heard Jangmi scream from down the hall. "Move idiot, you will not hog my bestie!" She runs up pushing Jungkook out of the way. "Jangmi!" You squeal. You lock arms with her going with her to finish the house tour. You turn and nod to Jungkook as a small thank you. He nods back with a small smile on his face. Jesus, he's still so cute.

✫ --------------------✫

8:09 pm

"I could eat her for lunch seriously. She's hot like sexy." Jungkook explains to Namjoon, "Hot like sexy?" he repeats, "Dude she'll never fuck you if you talk like that." He rolls his eyes, punching Namjoon in the shoulder. "Ow, I'm serious. Wait, didn't Jangmi say she was off limits?" He sighs being reminded of the warning from his younger sister. "She'll never have to know." Joon chuckles at his answer. "Hyung, don't laugh this is serious. I don't know what to do."

"Don't date your sister's best friend. That seems like the safest option. If Jangmi finds out, she'll put your head on a stick. I mean, who says Y/n wants to have sex with you anyway?" he asks. "she told me she had a crush on me in high school. I don't just want to have sex with her either. I mean she's a sweet girl. I'd love to take her out somewhere. Get to know her some, she's not the girl I remember."

"But she's into you now?" Joon asks curiously. "I think, you had to see the way she looked at me. It was like hungry like she could eat me alive." Joon shakes his head. "Look all I'm gonna say is this, be careful, and make sure you really want her and you're not lusting over her. you could fuck up years worth of friendship." Jungkook finally realized what was at stake here. It's not just you and his relationship. It's you and Jangmi, him and Stephen, and your parents. He had to be right about this and didn't want to hurt you. You were still someone he cared deeply about. He knew how much you mean to Jangmi too. He didn't want to hurt her either.

✫ --------------------✫

10:46 pm

When Jungkook got back home he found you on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a satin pink pajama set on. "Oh hey! You're back," you say catching yourself sounding more excited than you should be. "Yeah! Where's Jangmi?" he asks. "She's gotta get up early so she went to bed." you motion to her room. "Want some wine?" You ask him. "Absolutely. What are you watching?" He flops down beside you and you hand him a glass half filled with white wine. "It's called Mr. and Mrs. Smith, it's a new series based on the movie." He hums focusing in on the show. "fuck!" you groan rubbing your neck. "Could you massage my neck and shoulders? Those plane seats seriously suck and an old man fell asleep on my shoulder and I was too nice to move." He laughs nodding and setting his glass on the coffee table. You turn so your back faces him now. He starts rubbing your shoulders and you sigh. "holy shit your hands are magic." you laugh softly.

you're soft, and you smell like flowers and it's getting harder for Jungkook to contain himself. Your wavy hair falls right at your shoulders and is the most beautiful he's ever seen. "Jungkook?" you say lightly. He notices you hesitate before speaking. "What's new in you're life? You know, outside of being an artist. What do you like?" He hums, still rubbing at your shoulders. "Well, I've been working on some music. Nothing serious, like not anything I think is worth releasing." He explains to you. "I would want to hear if you're willing to share. No pressure," you say melting into him. "Absolutely. You have plans tomorrow?" He asks. You shake your head, "Family dinner later in the day but I'm free," you tell him. He hums and the noise of the TV takes over. You focus on his movement. His hands are big and he feels strong and... safe. Something you haven't felt in a while. He feels right.

"So." You say breaking the short silence. He hums acknowledging you. You stay silent for a while nervous the say what you're thinking. He peeks at you from the side. "I hope it's not weird if I ask but..." you trail off.

"Are you seeing someone?" you finally blurt. he chuckles dryly a little shocked by your question.

"I am not. Why'd you ask?" Still rubbing your shoulders gently but firm enough. "I don't know. I was just curious I guess," You lie. You clear your throat and Jungkook stops, and his hand runs down your arm, "Turn around." He says sternly, only seriousness found in his tone. You turn to face him. Your eyes lock for a moment and his eyes grow a little darker "Tell me the truth Y/n." He says. You hesitate looking him in the eyes a little longer before leaning in closely to say,

"I wanted to know before I did this" You kiss him softly. His hand cups your face, pulling you in closer to him. You climb into his lap and slip your tongue into his mouth. He moans into the kiss. He pulls back quickly to look at you. "Jangmi is gonna be pissed," he whispers as you're still a few inches from his face. "I told you, Kook, I can keep a secret." He grips your hips and pulls you closer in. "Fuck, you are so hot," he says before kissing you once more. You feel a tent growing in his pants. You grind against him and he moans into the kiss once more. You nibble on his lip as you pull away. You unbutton his jeans and slip your hand in, you stroke his hard-clothed cock. "Fuuuckk" he groans lowly. "You aren't as innocent as I remember," he says watching your every move. You climb off of him and kneel in front of him. You pull his pants down to his ankles and rub your hand across him. "Can I suck you off?" you ask. He nods, "I need you to say something."

"Yes please." He says quickly. You smile pulling his cock out of his boxers. You stoke him twice before licking his tip, then fully putting it in your mouth. You look up at him before fitting all of him in your mouth. His mouth falls open and you never take your eyes off of him. "Cum in my mouth," you say after sucking on his tip once more. You suck him more stroking him too. "I'm gonna-" you hum as he empties his load in your mouth. you open your mouth to show him his mess before swallowing. You flash him a smile before standing up. You get ready to go to the bathroom before he says "Go upstairs to my room." he says hungrily. you walk up the stairs and he quickly fixes his clothes before following behind.

You're sitting on his bed as he walks in and closes the door. "take off your shorts...panties too." you obey and kick them to the side. he kissed you, you fell backward on the bed and you felt so small under him. He kisses your neck and unbuttons your top. Kissing your tits and down your stomach. He kisses the inside of your thighs and stops every time he gets closer to your cunt. "Jungkook," you moan getting needier by the second. "Please" you beg. Before you can even get your words out, he licks a long stripe up your cunt. Sucking your clit driving you crazy. you moan breathily as you watch him eat you like he's a starving man. your eyes on his and swirls his tongue around your clit. he's so messy, his sheets were an afterthought. The only thing on his mind was making you come all over his tongue. "you taste like heaven." He says before slowly putting his index and middle finger in your cunt. "Fuck, Jungkook please." He curls his fingers hitting the spot to make you see stars. You almost moan loudly but with his other hand he tells you "Suck."

He loved seeing you like this, you were now like a drug to him. He knew he had to have more. Your body drove him insane. Your hips and how perfect your tits looked in your bra.

You obey and wrap your lips around his fingers. "Shhh, doll you don't want us to get caught, do you?" He shushed and truly the rush of getting caught turned you on more. He quickens the pace of his finger his head returning back in between your thighs. Sucking on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

you were a moaning mess and he felt good. He felt SO good. You'd do anything for him to make you cum. "Please can I come?" you moan quickly begging him for release. "You're such an obedient girl. Such good manners..." he trails off watching you squirm under him. "Cum for me." He curls his fingers hitting your perfect spot once again and you cum all over his fingers. You see stars and grip his arm tightly and he rubs slow circles on your clit as you come.

He flops down beside you, and you both lay there as your breath slows.

"i think-"

"Maybe we-"

you both speak at the same time. "You first," you say with a small giggle. He smiles looking over at you before he speaks. "I was thinking, maybe we could go out? I feel like we skipped a few steps." He says looking up at the ceiling. "We'll go when Jangmi, leaves for work." You respond. You roll over straddling him. "I know that Jangmi told you to stay away from me... But seeing you again brought me back." His hands draw circles on your lower back. "I want you Jungkook. I have for a long time." He smiles. "I want you too, Y/n." He kisses you deeply.

"Good." you stand after breaking the kiss, his hands lingering as you stand before him. You walk to his connecting bathroom and stop in the doorway. "Can I ask you something?" you say tilting your head to the side. He nods to you, "How did you know I was lying? On the couch, you told me to tell you the truth. How'd you know?" He smiled.

"You've had the same tell since we were kids, but I'm not telling. If I do I'll never know if you're lying to me." You smile at him and roll your eyes. "Whatever, Jungkook. Are you gonna join me in the shower or are you just gonna lay there?" you tease. He hops up quickly, "Right behind you baby." He says stripping himself of the rest of his clothing.

This might just be the start of his new craving. And you've got him wrapped around your finger.

✫ --------------------✫

a/n: AHHHHHH!!! hi I'm in love with Billie's new album and Jungkook, so i thought I'd make this lil series :)))

until next week my dolls.

mwah.

186 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

Text

John Shelby Vs. Breakfast - A John Shelby/Reader Short.

I haven't written for any of my Peaky lads in a hot minute, so I thought I'd do a little fun, fluffy piece for my fave ginge <3 Enjoy!

Words - 792

Warnings - None, just John being John!

Clattering. Swearing. Burnt toast. Those are what greet you after descending the stairs, coming into the kitchen to see perhaps the most unnatural sight in the world; John cooking. Or rather attempting to.

“Bastard, bloody thing!” Yes, the cast iron pan handle heats up while cooking eggs and bacon in it, not that he’d realise, being a man. Naturally, he’s had a woman perform these tasks for him all his life, so why would he know that? “Oh, shit, shit, shit, not again!”

At least this time when he reaches for hot metal, he has the sense to cover the end of the toasting fork with a kitchen towel, pulling the slices of bread from in front of the fire. “Fuckin’ hell!”

You stand and watch it, the sexy, ginger ball of stress whirling like an agitated tornado around the space, John much too predisposed by messing up the preparation of breakfast to notice you there, his entertained audience of one.

“Alright, I can save that. Scrape the burnt bit off. Right, kettle’s almost done. Sodding hell! How the fuck do women do this and make it look so bloody easy?”

“Because we’re magicians,” you finally speak, watching him jump before he spins around, pointing at you through the chaos of his own making.

“You should be in bed, still!”

Shrugging, you approach, stroking his bare forearms, his sleeves all rolled up. “I was wide awake, so I thought I’d get up.”

He bustles, waving his arms. “No, no. Ain’t supposed to be like this. I had a plan! Bring you breakfast in bed and now it’s all bloody going wrong!”

Casting your gaze over his shoulder, your eyebrow flutters upwards. “I don’t think that has anything to do with me coming down the stairs, John. The pan is smoking, by the way.”

His face falls. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Do you want a hand?” you offer, watching him move it from atop the range, scraping the slightly overdone eggs and bacon out onto two plates.

He waves his hand towards the table. “No, you sit down.”

“I can do the teapot, at least?”

More hand gestures are directed. “Sit down, bab!”

He’s adamant to do this, so tucking your dress, you take a seat, picking up the morning paper as he butters the toast. Finishing plating up the breakfast and pouring the tea, he brings it to you, everything a little crispy and haphazardly presented, your new husband looking at you from under a few furrowed brow.

“Don’t look nothing like when you make it, but I hope it tastes alright, at least.”

Digging your fork in, you take a first mouthful. “It’s lovely, darling. Thank you. What made you want to cook for me in the first place, though? You always denounce it as woman’s work. Not that you should. We’re in the twenties now, us women are to have our equality.”

“Oh, not you an’ all!” he groans, rolling his eyes. “You and bloody Pol and your women’s lib!” His little wink indicates he isn’t a hundred percent serious, picking up a slice of toast and taking a huge bite, crumbs collecting at the corners of his lips. “And I did it because I wanna make amends. Ain’t proper that we’re married and I can’t take you on honeymoon. Nah. Even a weekend up the seaside would have been nice. Got all this fuckin’ shit round me neck, though.”

Indeed, he has. You know well who you married, and the life of a prolific gangster is seldom easy. Or, in this case, flexible enough to allow for time away from Birmingham with his new bride.

Reaching for his hand, you stroke the freckled flesh, cocking your head. “You’ve no amends here to make, love. I know, I understand. It is what it is.”

“Yeah, but it bloody shouldn’t be, cos’ you deserve more!” he fumes, forehead creasing. “And I can’t give it to ya right now. Feel like a right bloody joke of a husband, I do.”

“You know what you can give me, though?” you tease, John not immediately picking up on the connotations. “A bloody good seeing to.”

He pauses his chewing, an eyebrow arching. “Get that scran down your neck sharpish, bab. I might not be able to take you away even for a weekend, but I can take you to bed instead.”

To be honest, is seeing a lot of time pressed against a mattress beneath your new husband not the point of a honeymoon? You’ve always thought so, at least, therefore it matters not where that mattress happens to be. Whether further afield or Birmingham, as long as John is there, it’s all the honeymoon you need.

A slightly cremated breakfast is an added bonus, too.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic

140 notes · View notes

flame-shadow · 2 months ago

Text

A breakdown of my quirrel!nosk comic from last year (original post here) since I like doing breakdowns and talking about my process, and I know at least some people like reading those things. :)

First of all, a little background. I made that comic in an evening with just a pencil, a black marker, two grey markers, and a yellow-orange marker. (All markers had a thick tip and a thin tip, and all were water-based markers, so they don't blend like alcohol markers, but they can still be layered to affect the values) I had a text post from @g0at0ad saved in my drafts that said "gotta say. massive missed opportunity to not have nosk mimic quirrel to lure the knight into its lair." and finally, I had an idea for how to illustrate the reveal and felt I had a decent idea for the nosk's design.

I wanted to follow the same encounter order as the game provides, and by happy coincidence, I realized that the route from first sighting to nosk den includes the hot spring, so it made perfect sense for that location and the real Quirrel to appear in the comic.

Ghost spots a Quirrel-like figure in the darkness in the first panel, and then as the path continues and drops into the hot spring, there's (real) Quirrel, so clearly that's who Ghost saw a minute ago. Yay, friend! And since Quirrel explores around, it's not strange that Ghost would spot him again in an area not so far away, though it's odd how he got ahead of them. Perhaps a different tunnel? And it seems like Quirrel wants to lead the way to something, so Ghost follows, until- That's not Quirrel.

In addition to the potential of a reader already knowing the game's locations and recognizing the path to the nosk's den, there are other visual clues that subtly communicate that something might not be right. I made it so every panel but the hot spring one has black silhouettes encroaching on the space within.

The third panel is the mildest one being encroached upon because Ghost doesn't yet feel like something is off (still reassured from seeing Quirrel in the safe hot spring) but the trap is coming together. The existence of the spider web in the corner is a nod to the trap because it's a common visual symbol for being trapped.

Also note how both the first and third panels have some safety via straight panel edges. Contrasted with the fourth and fifth panels which have no straight edges as Ghost cannot escape and there is no safety.

Another subtle reinforcement of danger vs safety is how the use of black is very limited in the hot spring panel. It's a brighter room mechanically, yes, but it's also a Safe Room. The only black is Ghost's void parts and a thin outline around Quirrel (and also a bit of shading on his arm that I did out of habit before remembering that I wasn't going to use black to shade him here, oops!)

And, note that in the only panel with Real Quirrel, he isn't framed against a darker shape in the background.

Okay, and finally, I will share a bit about the nosk reveal panel and its design...

This pose and angle are dramatic and all, but they're The Worst for showcasing the actual design of the nosk! Just a complete mistake on my part that I did my best to roll with, since I didn't realize until too late how I'd messed myself up.

Which happens! I don't always get it right, and especially when I'm working traditionally, there's a point where I can't go back, so I just have to make do with what I gave myself. :) I don't hate what I have here, but I have been dissatisfied with it ever since I drew the lineart.

A thought I have had since then was that maybe I should've drawn it larger, to be more threatening? Maybe a different pose to show off the side-body frills? I explored a couple ideas below, but honestly, I think the whole panel would have to be reworked to get it right.

Making sure that the background frames the nosk effectively would be one of the main things I'd redo, but I'm getting tired and don't feel like drawing more, so I'll just leave it at the nosk replacement sketches.

And since I don't think I did a good job with displaying the nosk's design effectively, I quickly sketched some of the features to maybe show them off a bit better.

I like the gimmick of the nosk turning its head, so I pretty much always maintain that with my nosk designs. This one is no exception. Quirrel's head and face become the cranium and upper jaw while Monomon's mask becomes the lower jaw - the extra length causes an underbite. I've always been a fan of when people add a veil hanging from Monomon's mask while Quirrel is wearing it, so that's where the frills come from. ("Why didn't you include the veil in your Quirrel drawings, then?" I hear you ask. And honestly..... I don't know! That could've been an oversight or it could've been deliberate and I just don't remember my justification. That happens sometimes XD)

Anyway uhhh yeah! I think that's it. I like making comics. I like thinking about nosk. Tadaa~

#hollow knight #nosk #quirrel #comic breakdown #flameshadowart #long post #id in alt #this took longer than intended lol but it's done now~#i like doing analyses like this both to show where i do cool things and consider where things could be improved

75 notes · View notes

djarinova · 1 year ago

Text

"Am I your lockscreen?"

jean kirstein x gn reader

content - modern au, fluff, jean calls reader pretty, jean gets embarrassed when you look at his phone words - 1k

"Do you seriously think you have better moves than me, Kirstein?"

Jean tilts his head, but keeps his eyes focused on the screen, not wanting to let your taunting get to him.

The two of you had been engaged in a close battle of video games all afternoon, currently playing a 3 round game of tennis on the Wii to decide which one of you gets to choose the place you'll order food from for dinner.

"Babe, just watch this serve and you'll be eating your words." He brings his arm back in preparation for his tennis serve. "Just like you'll be eating Chinese food for dinner!"

Jean ends his sentence with a whoop, clearly already planning his victory as he prepares to undergo what he assumes will be his final few swings.

The first swing is his serve, a nice and solid start in which he had you leaping to cover your end of the court.

"You know if I win this set I win the entire match, right? It's match point, baby."

You scoff, trying your best to ignore him.

His second swing has your heart beating frantically, and even though your eyes have been trained on his every move on screen, you still almost miss it—managing to save it by the skin of your teeth.

"I love you baby, but there ain't no way I'm letting you win right now."

And he's right. His third swing is his most forceful yet, and you're pretty sure he almost let go off the Wii remote—thank god you told him to use the remote straps.

You groan the second your Mii misses the tennis ball, but it's drowned out by Jean's incredibly loud, and giddy, cheering.

"Wooooooo! Aw yeah, ah ye— did you see that, babe?—ah yeah, I'm a genius, I literally nailed that!—that was amazing."

His cheering bleeds into something more along the lines of a song, and you can't help but laugh as you reach across the sofa to pick up Jean's phone, thinking that you may as well get the menu up and ready to browse while he finishes his gloating.

"Yeah yeah yeah, it's probably for the best anyway, you're such a sore loser—"

Jean turns to look at you—ready to take all your teasing about how much of a bad loser he is, and how you let him win this game to save your poor ears from having to hear all his whining—when his eyes widen.

“Am I your lockscreen?” You ask, stunned.

ShitShitShit

Jean grimaces.

Act dumb.

“What are you talking about? I… I don’t think I have a lockscreen at the moment.”

Not that dumb.

You smile, narrowing your eyes slightly in amusement as Jean’s mouth opens and closes.

"And you're sure about that, huh?"

"I think maybe Eren changed it the other day…"

You stare at him, watching the cogs turning in his head.

"I never change my lockscreen—I wouldn't even know how to—and if I did I'd only ever change it to something really good—not that you're not good—shit—I mean like, a good photo of the sky or a nice group shot or a pic of my dog—not that I think you're like my dog—you're really pretty—not that my dogs not pretty—it's a different type of pretty, you know? You wouldn't compare apples to oranges—no wait—that's not right…"

Jean looks to the ground as he trails off—not daring to meet your eyes. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. His face felt hot. His heart was racing wildly.

God. That was a mess.

“Jean?”

He continues avoiding your eyes, willing the ground to open up and swallow him right where he stood.

“Jean?” You ask again, “Is this photo from my instagra—”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” Jean says quickly.

You look at him for a second—watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, and seeing how his hands are beginning to shake—and you take a step towards him.

“Jean, would you please look at me?”

He doesn't.

“Baby, I’m serious,” you try not to smile at his stubbornness, “it's very, super, extremely important that you look at me right now.”

You step in front of your boyfriend, placing your hands on his cheeks and angling his head so he is forced to look at you.

“I’m not mad, Jean. I’m not upset or confused or embarrassed, or whatever it is that you think I'm feeling right now.”

Jean furrows his eyebrows, but he doesn’t dare to interrupt.

“I love it. A lot. And I can't believe I didn’t know—wait, is this what Eren was teasing you about the other day?”

Jean nods, and you're unable to stop the smile that lights up your face.

“Oh my god… you’re the sweetest guy ever.”

You move your hands from his face, and instead settle your arms around his waist, pulling him ever so slightly closer to you.

“Why didn't you want me to know?”

“I don’t know… I think maybe I thought it was too soon…?” Jean says, his voice rising as he reaches the end of his sentence.

You shake your head.

“It’s not too soon, definitely not at all. I love it, okay?”

“Okay.” Jean smiles.

“Just promise me one thing—”

“Anything.”

“Next time you want a photo for your lockscreen, just ask me. I don’t want you to be forced to use the same photos that everybody gets to see. I want you to have something special.”

Jean feels his cheeks flare up with warmth at your words, but he nods his head.

Satisfied, you untangle your arms from around his waist and plop yourself down on the sofa, holding his phone out towards him.

Jean’s puzzled look causes you to let out a small giggle.

“Baby… You won, now come over here and order me some Chinese food.”

Jean grins, his cocky winner demeanour suddenly returning as he sits down next to you, flopping himself practically on top of you and slinking his arm around your shoulder.

“Give me that phone babe, it's time for the winner to choose the dinner.”

#he's so cute I want him so bad #want to pepper his face in kisses #mwah mwah mwah fr #jean kirstein fic #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein fic #sage.fics #aot fic

325 notes · View notes

firegirl888101 · 1 year ago

Text

Insatiable Madness (6)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

And so they remain in this world for longer than what they planned.

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"What gave you the idea I can tell the future?" You scoffed.

"That doesn't matter! Tell me, do I become the strongest? Does Lord Capitano finally recognise my strength and duel me?" He answered.

"How am I supposed to know? The game isn't even finished, you psychopath!"

"It can't be that far away that even you don't know." He scoffed.

"It's not a question of how far in the future it is, it's whether I can actually answer it or not that matters!"

"Oh, so you do know but you just can't tell me because it would mess with the future! I see..." He muttered to himself.

That is not what I meant.

"Tartaglia leave the poor Decider alone. We've tormented them enough." Pulcinella scolded, prodding his walking stick at the ginger.

"But I need to know!--"

"-And you will learn what you want later, when The Tsaritsa has finished her plans with them." He scolded.

"Come on, boy, I thought I taught you better than this."

"Dottore what is taking so long!? I was promised we wouldn't stay here much longer." Sandrone raised her voice.

Why is that cosplayer so pissy? It's not like she can actually 'traverse back to Teyvat' like she says she can.

"I'm not sure, let me redo my calculations." He replied.

All Sandrone did was groan in response. "Fine! You do your calculations, I'm taking The Decider with me."

"Don't stray too far!" Columbina waved, giggling at The Doctor's increasing speed in shuffling his papers.

You felt her grab you by your restraints and drag you with her, she seemed to be heading behind the counter.

"Now that I have your undivided attention," She coughed into her hand. "Educate me about these beautiful machines this place has!"

"What."

"I have never seen machinery so big and so seemingly illustrious in my lifetime! You simply must report to me which genius created such pleasing creations."

Careful there Sandrone, out of context it sounds like you're describing something else...

"Well..." How were you supposed to explain them? You didn't know how they work, you've never worked a day in your life! You're just a college student with barely passable grades.

"I don't want any hesitancy. Speak now." She glared.

"Uh... This one! This one is used for frying things, the things being chips... They're more commonly known as fries though."

"Ah, I see... And I suppose the liquid in this 'basin' is oil?" She questioned, tracing her hand on the metal.

"It's not a basin, that would be in a bathroom... But yes, it is. I also advise that you don't touch it, it's most likely still hot. Not that I'd mind it burning you..."

"What did you say, you unrisable creature?" She spat, turning to you with a blank gaze.

"Nothing, Sandrone." You sighed. "Now that I answered your question, will you answer one of mine?"

"Of course not. It's also 'Lady Sandrone' to you." She smiled, turning back to the oil with a look of interest.

"So... how does one make and then 'fry' these 'chips' in this machine?"

"Would you like the basics or the very start of the process?" You sighed, you really didn't want to explain that you cut a potato and then clean and so on.

"The very start, just who do you take me for?"

Fantastic. You shouldn't really be picky in this type of situation though.

"You take a potato, clean it then cut it into strips..."

"Important! Thin or thick strips? What's the exact diameter? The length?"

"It depends what type of chips you want, as typical fast food chain's ones are thin like fries they're quite thin and short. Those who get long ones are said to be the luckiest." You explained to her, as she writes everything down on a piece of paper.

"And the diameter?"

"You don't need a specific size, as long as they're somewhat equal they're fine. They're going to be eaten anyway, I don't see why you're making such a big fuss."

She stayed quiet for a moment. "I want them to be perfect."

Nothing is perfect but if I said that she'd get even more pissed off.

"Next, you take your clean cut chips and put them in this basket. You then place the basket with chips in the oil and wait for a certain amount of time for them to cook."

"For how long?" She questioned. "I don't know? I've never personally used one before, I'm just saying what I've seen others do."

...and by 'seen what others do', you mean impatiently peering behind the front desk to see what the workers are up to.

"Useless, and here I thought you were becoming convenient for me." Sandrone scoffed.

"Well, the chips are supposed to be a golden colour so I think that's context enough..." You mumbled.

"And then what? Surely there is more."

"Not really, once they're cooked you put salt on them then eat. Some like to eat them straight away, but I like to add sauce sometimes."

"Excellent, I have written every word of your explanation down. As you provided the least minimal detail possible, you will show me a clear and explained demonstration." She scolded.

"I'm sorry, you want me to use one of these machines to help you with your notes?"

"Precisely." She nodded to herself.

"No." You answered shortly. "I have no idea how to operate one of these machines, what if I set fire to the building?"

That's a bit dramatic, but you don't want to embarrass yourself. Besides, a fire could count as arson and you weren't willing to potentially get yourself to prison with the rest of these lunatics.

"I suppose that is anxiety raising. Especially when I've been ordered to stay out of public eye..." She sighed to herself.

"What a dilemna this situation is. I'll have to take the machine apart and rebuild it once I return to my lab. You will aid me in my endeavour, won't you?" She glared.

She's good at staying in character. It's freaking me out.

"S-Sure..." You stuttered in fear.

"Excellent." She smiled at you once more.

Suddenly, lots of cars could be heard from outside the building. You could tell they were fast as the sounds left as soon as they came.

Oh, please tell me that's help!

"What was--"

"Marionette, bring The Decider now!" Dottore shouted from the other room. "We need to get out of here, they alerted their own soldiers!"

"You did what while under my merciful eye?" She turned to you.

"Sandrone, there's no time to be mad! Get your puppeteering arse over here right now!"

"Ugh."

She dragged you to the rest of the harbingers, who all gave you nasty glares.

"What did you do!?" Signora screamed in your face.

"I called the authorities to arrest you nutcases! You're all delusional and high in the fucking sky if you think you're the actual Fatui Harbingers from a fictional game!"

"Did it ever occur to you that you are currently being held hostage by multiple enemies of yours? You have courage to do such a thing while captured by us." Capitano praises.

"We have circled the entire building! Give the hostage and we will arrest peacefully!" An officer yelled from the front entrance.

Finally! I thought they'd never arrive.

"Dottore what do we do?" Arlecchino shouts at him. "Let's just kill them all again, it worked before didn't it?" Childe grinned.

"Not this time, Tartaglia. Even if we disposed of these soldiers, I am positive more would soon arrive." Capitano stated, unmoving unlike most harbingers.

"So you're saying even if we take care of them, we'll still be outnumbered."

"They're not soldiers, idiots. They're police officers who work for justice." You spat at them.

They all looked at you, silently telling you to shut up then turned back to eachother.

"Listen to me, as I'll only suggest this once." Signora thought outloud. "I'll freeze them with my cryo delusion, then we'll run to a safe place? As much as I'd hate to do that as I'm wearing heels, I believe it's our only option."

"I agree with Rosalyne," The old man coughed. "We need speed and tactiful thinking if we wish to leave this world."

"Signora, I've never known you to be so vague!" Childe laughed at her, looking at Pulcinella in hopes he'll laugh along with him.

"She's obviously talking about the park we entered this world in." Arlecchino scoffed at his behaviour.

"Then that is what we shall do." Pierro agreed.

Signora then pushed herself through the double doors calmly. You couldn't see what was happening due to Capitano covering your view, but you could hear screams and hysterical laughter.

"Please don't tell me she's killing them." You muttered, a look of repulsion present on your face.

"Did you even listen to her plan? She's not killing anyone." Sandrone rolled her eyes.

"I don't trust you, nor do I trust her."

"A wise decision on your part, but it doesn't aide your case of being kidnapped." Pierro answered for her.

"I'm aware of that, arsehole..." You whispered. "Pardon?" He glared.

"You know what? I've had enough of staying quiet. Fuck every single one of you! I hope that one day you breathe a vapes' cancerous flavour and your lungs dissolve at the second!"

"What's a vape?" Dottore turned to you.

"Okay, maybe I've been assuming too much, maybe you imported some illegal drugs from elsewhere? That's not the point though." You sighed.

"I feel better now that I got that out of my chest." You smiled to yourself, noticing Capitano giving you a blank stare through his mask in return.

"It certainly doesn't help you, but you do what you deem fit."

"Let's move!" Signora's voice could faintly be heard from outside, the harbingers one by one leaving the building through the doors.

"Apologies." Capitano coughed into his hand, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

"Hey! I can walk myself, you tied my wrists together not my ankles!" You argued to him.

"Does it look like he wants you over your shoulder?" Scaramouche rolled his eyes, before realising something.

"Nevermind, you wouldn't be able to see." He laughed in your face, hitting your head which banged against Capitano's back.

"Dude! Careful, I don't want to be near his arse! Besides, I--"

You stopped yourself from talking when you managed to turn your head to the police officers outside. They looked in terrible condition, you thought Signora was being drugged up when she went on about her cryo delusion!

Seeing the police officers shout to each other as they struggle against the ice freezing them in place made you realise one very important thing.

These cosplayers... They're the real fucking deal.

How do we feel about some bonding time with Sandrone? :>

I don't want the reader to be too quiet about their situation, but I just wanted to make it clear that they're afraid since they're aware of the current situation they're in. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to write this but I suppose thats what practice is for...

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

402 notes · View notes

seangelfish · 8 months ago

Text

Our favourite items

Ritsu Sakuma x Reader ♡ Tags: Fluff, established relationship, casual romance, really wholesome, INTRO IS REALLY LONG, SORRY!, she/her pronouns ♡ Word count: 2,215 ♡ Synopsis: Inspired by the Meowsketeers scout story in which this card is featured in. I've been trying to read the scout stories since I never read them, and I thought that this one would be cute to add the reader in! Please note that this fic does not stay true to the story, but it has taken bits from it. A/N: There needs to be more Ritsu x reader fics.

Drenched in sweat, Ritsu slowly woke up from his nap in the ES gardens. His mind was still filled with thoughts of what happened the other day when Tsukasa confronted and withdrew some of the new members of Knights.

Ritsu pitied them, but what was said was the mere truth. That's the way Knights operated, it was never a unit to have fun with as an idol. But seeing those tearful faces did take a toll on him.

At that moment, Ritsu felt something heavy weighing on him. It wasn't what happened that day, but something physical that he could feel near his stomach.

'Who is it? Am I being attacked? It's not those pranks Tsukipi set up, right?' he thought tiredly. Unless it's (Y/N)...? No... she said she'd be busy today–

Ritsu was getting annoyed. "Hold on. You don't disturb people when they're sleeping!" he groaned. "Now I'm in a bad mood... Don't mess with me– Huh?"

Eyes wide open, Ritsu found that on his stomach was a black cat.

"Ugh, so it was this guy!" he fumed. "Get off! You're heavy and it's too hot...!"

Yet the cat wouldn't budge. It stayed lying on Ritsu's stomach as if he were a pillow. Ritsu wasn't having any of it though, no one dares disturb his sleep even if they were a cat! Getting angrier by the second, he decided to fight it off him.

"Hey! Ow! Don't dig your claws in me!"

"That Suo, he's late!" exclaimed Leo. "What a troublesome guy! I came early today since he gets angry at me when I come late."

"Unbelievable! He's wasting my precious time!" Izumi chided. "This is so annoying. Did your wanderlust infect Kasa-kun?"

Leo laughed. "Eh? What, what? Wahaha, that's funny, Sena! I suppose it's fate that Knights' leader is to be cursed by wanderlust!"

Frantic footsteps could be heard as Tsukasa barged into the studio panting. He apologised, mentioning to his seniors that he got involved in a little incident with Ritsu. That was when Ritsu entered the room, still arguing with the black cat he encountered outside.

"I told you to let go of me, didn't I?! Why can't you understand me, you stupid cat?!" Ritsu growled. "Do my clothes smell like catnip or something...?"

"A stray cat got attached to Ritsu-senpai and it won't let go of him," stated Tsukasa.

"Unbelievable. This was why you were late?" said Izumi. "There's got to be some way to pull it off. Just grab it by the neck like how a parent cat carries a kitchen– Owah! This guy tried to scratch me! If you were human, I'd have you pay compensation!"

Arashi suggested that they all calm down and get started on the retrospective – the reason why they were holding a meeting in the first place. If they ignore the cat, perhaps it would let Ritsu go!

But as Arashi started playing the video of their live, Leo noticed something. In the video, Leo pointed out the front row seats where beside a fan's feet, a black cat was seen.

"This guy, it saw Ritsu at Knights' live and came to meet him!" said Leo excitedly.

"Hah...? No way! That sounds so unrealistic," Ritsu replied before turning to the cat which started showing him affection. "Owah, what? Don't start licking my cheek!"

"Given its reaction, it probably did come to meet Knights," said Tsukasa. "Isn't it just the cutest? It probably fell in love with Ritsu-senpai's brave figure at the live!"

"What?! Don't say things so nonchalantly!"

But the other members of Knights had agreed to let the cat do what it wanted despite Ritsu's comments on how much of a disaster this was.

The cat didn't let go of him even during the retrospective. It lay sound asleep on Ritsu's lap. Knights had come up with a name for the cat too, 'd'Artagnyan', their 'newest knight that was drawn in by Knights.'

Ritsu didn't like this idea at all. He didn't see any resemblance between him and the cat that his fellow members were constantly pointing out too. Though, he didn't want to just kick it out. He wanted it to leave on its own volition.

"It clings to you like how you cling onto (Y/N)," stated Arashi causing Ritsu to erupt into a steam of embarrassment. "Maybe it finds your scent comforting~? If so, it might be satisfied with something that has Ritsu-chan's scent on it..."

"Something with my scent?" Ritsu repeated. "Ah, I just came to an unpleasant conclusion..."

He was talking about his favourite blanket – the only thing in this studio that had his scent on it. But there was no way that Ritsu wanted to give this unlucky cat his favourite blanket!

"Ah, wait! Don't suddenly pounce for my blanket, you idiot cat!" huffed Ritsu as he tried to yank the blanket away. He was now on the floor fighting with the cat. "Give it back! I don't want such an unlucky cat to use my blanket! Guys, please help me out here!"

"Oi, oi. There's no need to get so worked up over something like this, right, Ritsu?" said Leo. "I know it's annoying, but it'll be dangerous if you get violent in here, no?"

"But I really like this blanket! I won't allow it to use it! Ah, don't scratch it–"

"Please calm down, Ritsu-senpai...!" sputtered Tsukasa.

But before Izumi could assert himself to scold Ritsu, you had rushed into the studio. Arashi had texted you about the situation before they started their retrospective, hoping that you'd come to solve the issue at hand. After all, you solved a lot of their problems before, it became customary to ask you for help.

"Ritsu, are you okay?" you asked worriedly, bending down. "Hey, what's wrong? You're not usually like this."

"(Y-Y/N)?!" Ritsu blurted, perplexed at your sudden appearance. "W-What are you doing here?"

You answered that even though you were busy with your own assignments today, you couldn't just ignore what was happening with Knights, with him.

"Is this what's bothering you?" You tried picking up the cat, but it immediately started hissing at you. "Ah! Okay, I'm not going to pick you up then...! Anyway, Arashi texted me all the details already. Why don't you just give up the blanket, Ritsu?"

"N-No!" he cried. "I can't!"

"I don't understand why you like that blanket so much," said Izumi. "I'll buy you a new one if that makes you happy–"

"That's not it! (Y/N) bought me this one!"

Everyone had gone silent over that fact.

"Then I'll buy you a new one," you offered.

"No!" Ritsu protested. "You got this for me when we were first years! I can't just let that go!"

Ritsu usually wasn't this worked up, so you knew he was upset about something other than his blanket. But you also knew that he was a very sentimental person too, so you couldn't just force him to give up something that he truly loved. It was sweet that he had kept this blanket up until now though. It showed how much he loved you.

"I have an idea," you suddenly said. You rummaged through your bag and pulled out a white sweater. "This also has Ritsu's scent on it."

"Wait," Ritsu began. "That's my sweater."

"Mhm, my favourite one too!" you giggled. "If we give the cat this, then it'll give up on the blanket!"

"B-But (Y/N), you love that sweater...!" he said.

"I do, but you love that blanket too, right? I'll give this up so you can have your blanket back!"

With how selfless and thoughtful you were being, Ritsu had finally cooled down.

"N-No, it's fine," he said sadly. "I'll let it keep the blanket, you keep the sweater, okay? I'm sorry, everyone, I went overboard. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"Ritsu..."

He picked up his blanket with the cat still attached to it and left the building quietly. The meeting with Knights had come to an end. You sighed, apologised and thanked Knights for putting up with your boyfriend before following after him.

Ritsu was situated on one of the tables at the ES gardens, his head laid on his arms as he watched the black cat sleep in his blanket.

"It's my fault that Knights ended up fighting again... If only this cat hadn't been there. No, I should've been calmer..." he murmured. "It would've been better if I had analysed the situation calmly like I usually do, and brought it to a positive conclusion..."

"Ritsu~" you called out.

With the sound of your voice, his eyes immediately gravitated towards you. He didn't lift his head though, he was too tired for that.

"(Y/N)..."

"Here," you said, pressing a cold can of soda to his cheek. He cried at the coldness but quickly covered his mouth from being too loud. He didn't want to wake up the cat despite how annoying it was today.

"Ah, thank you..." he said, taking the can from you. He laid it in front of him, not opening it. "(Y/N), I'm really sorry about earlier. You were busy, and Nacchan had to call you over to deal with something so small."

"Eh, it's okay~," you said. From behind, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. "I'm nearly finished with my assignments anyway. But Ritsu, are you really okay?"

Ritsu strained a smile, but he held your arm in a way to comfort himself. "I'm fine now. I'm going to sit here and reflect on my actions until this stupid cat wakes up. If I ignored the cat in the studio and it gets restless, it might be even more troublesome."

You laughed. "It's so cute when it's sleeping. It reminds me of you."

"Eeehhh? Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked.

"Well, it's cute and you're cute! Also, it takes naps just like you, hehe~"

Ritsu sighed but laughed along. "Ah, you're wearing the sweater," he said, finally noticing the baggy look on you.

"Yep! I'm glad I didn't need to give it up in the end, but I do feel sad that you had to give your favourite blanket away," you said.

"It's fine. Maybe it'll let it go later..." he started. "Well, I hope it does anyway. I really do like that blanket..."

He chuckled, reminiscing the time you first got him the blanket. The two of you met just before entering Yumenosaki. You were Mao's friend initially, but he had introduced you to Ritsu during the time he had to repeat his first year. Ritsu had treated you coldly at first, but when you spotted him sleeping in the gardens, coming to know of his illness, you had decided to gift him a blanket for him to use.

It was a blanket you had bought at a shop in town, nothing special, but Ritsu thought the world of it. Even when he treated you so poorly, you were still so nice to him – to accommodate him in this way. He grew fond of the blanket, but he mostly grew fond of you.

After that day, he stuck to you just like the cat he was watching now.

"You know, I'm surprised it's still kept in good condition after all these years," you pointed out. "We're in our third year now... and it still looks brand new."

"I take good care of my things, (Y/N)~," he said. "And I'll be keeping that blanket for as long as I can."

You smiled and gave him a peck on the back of his head. "Anyway, aren't you going to tell me what got you so riled up? It can't just be because of the cat, right?"

"Ah, right..." he said. He opened the can that you gave him and began to drink the contents of it. "So, this is what happened..."

He explained everything to you, recalling what happened that day when they had to withdraw some of the new Knights members. He was honest with his feelings, how bad he felt when he saw those tearful faces, how bad he felt when he knew that those dreams were being crushed.

But after some reassurance from you, Ritsu felt a lot better. That's when Tsukasa showed up to check up on him too. A suggestion of finding foster parents for the cat was brought up which Ritsu agreed to.

By time, he grew fond of the cat albeit he still wanted it gone. But things had resolved themselves, and Ritsu was back to his calm, analytical self again.

You had come to say goodbye to the cat, d'Artagnyan, too. This time, it had let you hold it.

"Hehe, it really does remind me of you," you told Ritsu who immediately turned red. "Don't miss Ritsu too much, you hear me~? I hope you live a comfortable life."

Watching you be so gentle with the cat like that had Ritsu feeling some sort of way. He smiled gently to himself, appreciating that you were there with him, that you were there to console him and to listen to every word he had to say. There was nothing better in this world – even his favourite blanket – that would compare to you.

Intro page | Ensemble Stars masterlist | Rules

#ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars #x reader #fanfic #ritsu sakuma x reader #ritsu sakuma #ritsu sakuma x reader fluff #fluff #ritsu sakuma x y/n

122 notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 1 year ago

Text

To Be Cherished (Dragon x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Male!Dragon x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Slight infantilization (of the reader)

Word Count: 2255 words

Summary: You'd never thought of yourself as the "darling" type; That seemed more fitting for demure nobility, fawned over by their one true love. Usually a knight, or a duke, or someone else.

But dragons were never ones to play by the rules.

Request: heyo, if it’s okay, could i have a male dragon taking a transmasc (or just gn) human to be their pet? kind of just petting and praising the reader, saying things like “good boy/pet” to them? thank you!

A/N: Another dragon! Feels like I haven't written a proper dragon fic in forever, glad to be back.

I wasn't sure if this request wanted NSFW, so I decided to play it safe and do SFW. But if people want a NSFW second part (or another part in general!), I'd be glad to continue this!

When you started this day, you had expected mundanity. Thats what your whole life up to this point had been, a slightly-changing list of chores on the same land your family has worked on for generations. It may have been boring to some, knowing that some towns folk would refer to your family as ‘simple people’, but you always brushed it off. You loved your life! You loved the ever present routines and the beautiful rolling hills, even the gray-blue mountains that seemed to loom over like a fog. It was nice, your life was nice!

Now, looking down the muzzle of a dragon, you think you may have benefitted from exploring a bit more. Maybe if you had gone into town more, talked to more adventuring parties, you’d have the proper response ready when you found a Dragon sitting in your pumpkin patch.

“Hello?”

You mutter, which has the dragon cocking its head. It’s eyes are frighteningly large, giant pools of yellow with a menacing black slit at the center. they sit several feet above you, even with its head tilted low to look at you. A wave of its hot breath rolls over you like a summer breeze, it’s nostrils right by your face.

“H-how can I help you?”

The dragon doesn’t move, just letting it’s third eyelid flit between, only adding to its uncaring (?) gaze,

“Uhmm…” You mutter, looking at your basket. “I have some cucumber, some eggplant, some tomato-” You hold up a fresh, fat red tomato to the dragon's nose, “-if you want some?”

You know dragons prefer more luxurious gifts, but maybe it's hungry? Whatever it wants, it can have, you’re just hoping it doesn’t sees you as the meal.

Another wave of breath is snorted over you, ruffling your overalls and the straw hat on your head. Your hands shake, still tired from harvesting all your vegetables this morning, your nails caked in dirt. You’re sure you look a mess right now, especially in front of something as regal as a dragon, you hope the smell of sweat and soil is enough to deter it from eating you.

The dragon eyes the tomato, but does nothing to eat it. You slowly put it back into your basket.

“Sorry, that’s all I’ve got it. Just a farmer, as you can tell.” You rub the back of your neck, mayb you could appease to it’s sense of humor? Dragons love wiley adventurers, don’t they? “I’ve been told I can make a mean brisket, though. W-would you like some of that?”

The dragon blinks again, but this time you see the sides of its mouth begin to curl up, it’s tail flitting behind it. Is it…smiling?

“Yes.” The dragon’s booming voice nealry rocks you backwards, just as noble and threatening sounding as you thought it would be. “I think you will do, just fine.”

Before you can even stutter out a “What?” the dragon's claw descends upon you, gingerly wrapping around your torso as its wings extend. The ground rumbled as it flaps the giant wings, pushing it’s massive body off the ground with you still in it’s paw. You’re gobsmacked, no words and breath left to exclaim as it begins to take off into the air. A million and one thoughts and panics run through your mind, but as quickly as you realize you are being kidnapped, you black out.

—--

You’ve never actually swam in a lake, but if it was anything like this 30 foot cavern-bath you were taking, you were clearly missing out.

You had woken up in a dark cave, so far underground that the only light source were the various braziers and bioluminescent mushrooms decorating the walls. Laying on top a pile of furs, you noticed how surprisingly intact your body still was before noticing the dragon sitting nearby. It’s only when the dragon huffs that you jerk upward and look at the beast.

“Oh….hello again.” You say, trying not to freak the fuck out. The beast is just a mere 20 feet away from you, the tip of his (at least you think its a he) tail just close enough to tilt up your chin. The dragon hums, appraising you, its lips curling into that same intimidating smile.

“You look so cute when you sleep, pet. I was wondering if you would ever wake up.”

Your jaw would’ve dropped if not for the sharp scales pointing it upwards. This is really not what you were expecting.

The tail moves to your cheek and coerces to tilt your head to one side, then the other. The dragon hums again.

“What nice features. I feel awfully lucky to have found you dear, before you had to suffer any more hard labor.”

Hey, it wasn’t that hard.

You rebut in your thoughts, not daring to speak out of turn. The dragon doesn’t seem to be dangerous…not yet.

The tail moves down your chest and to your hands, lifting them up by the wrists but not pulling you uncomfortably. The dragon leans its head closer, its black scales shining like mother-of-pearl in the mushrooms glow. It tsks. “Workers hands, I loathe the fool who callused these hands. Who has you breaking your back, picking those fruits.” The tail reaches up, and pats you on the head, almost like a dog. “But you mustn’t worry, my pet, you won’t have to do that anymore.”

“I-I think there may be a misunderstanding.” You meekly say, almost a whisper. The dragon tilts its head, still amused. “I appreciate your kindness, dragon, but I wasn’t an indentured servant. Those fields were my own, I chose to work in them, and wasn't forced to do anything.” Your shoulders shrug up, trying to appear grateful but embarrassed at the mix up. “So you can take me back, I promise I wasn’t being hurt.”

The dragon looks at you, not saying anything and still having the amused look on his face. You feel sweat bead on the back of your neck, trying to avoid losing eye contact, showing disrespect or weakness. But the tail simply tips up your chin again, the dragon chuckling.

“Oh no my dear pet, I’m afraid you have misunderstood.” The dragon stands up on its paws, circling around the piles of furs yet keeping his tail under your chin. “ I know you weren’t imprisoned, you just didn’t know any better.”

You furrow your brow. That literally explained nothing.

“You will find your accomadations much more suitable for you now, my dear. Now, lets get you cleaned.”

The dragon’s tail nudges you backwards, turning you to see the large cavernous pool of water behind you.

Huh, that's why it’s so humid in here.

The dragons tail moves down to your shoulder, moving with enough finesse to pull down a single strap of your overalls. Your eyes go wide and you find yourself stumbling away.

“I c-can undress myself!” You squeal, before catching the way the dragon’s brow furrows. “I-uhm- thank you. But I can manage.”

The dragon chuckles, retracting his tail.

“Of course dear, I forgot how important clothing was for human propriety. Here,” The dragon sits up again, sitting around the rim of the bath, though facing away. That long tail flops over the side and stirs the bath water, the fragrant steams of lavender and bergamot bath salts wafting across, “I won’t even look.”

You shrug. You think thats about as much privacy as you’re going to get.

—--

To his credit, that bath was amazing. You don’t think you’ve ever been this clean in your entire life, having grown comfortable with a base level of sweat and grime.

Still, did he have to get rid of my clothes?

You’re not sure how he did it, but when you stepped out of the bath all that remained as a silk robe and fluffy slipper for your to wear. No sign of those well-worn overalls. He even had you do a spin as you got out, cooing at the outfit.

“My, my, now don’t you look handsome?”

You rub the back of your neck, not quite sure how to feel. Embarrassed, flattered? The growl from your stomach does the hard part of filling the silence for you.

“Lets get you some food, huh?”

The dragon leads to a different part of the cave, an outcropping with a gigantic dining room table, several blankets and quilts, and a circular bed in the center. Theres a stack of books, paper and pencils by the bed, but what draws your attention is the platter of delicious food on the table. You walk a little too eagerly to the table, the site of a freshly roasted chicken and potatoes tempting you in. When you sit down, you try not to lunge for it. This is the most luxurious food you’ve ever seen, plates of figs and rinds of cheese for you to snack on, alongside various other fruits. You give the dragon a side eye, wondering if you could start.

The dragon nudges your chair, effectively pushing you in, and gestures with its head for you to eat. Trying to keep some sense of propriety, you use the fancy silverware to your right instead of just digging in with bare hands. You even try to take a delicate bite of one of the chicken wings, but find yourself quickly melting under the flavor.

You were right, this is the best food you have ever eaten.

“Do you like it?”

You nod, taking another large bite. The dragon chuckles, laying down its head and just watching you. You swallow and give it a smile. A real one.

“Yes, thank you. I…don’t know what to say.” You take another quick bite of a nearby fig, almost moaning at the sweet taste. “How’d you get all this?”

“I have my ways, sweetling.” The dragon winks.

“Well, good job because this is incredible.”

You eat until your belly’s full, the lingering heat from the bath weighing down your muscles and making you feel drowsy. Sitting back in your chair you hum in content, before looking at the dragon. He still watches you, that pleased smile on his face.

“Uhm, could I ask you your name?” You set aside your plate, brushing imaginary crumbs off your robe. “I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”

“My name is Nyryym, dear.”

“Na-rim?” You enunciate, smiling when the dragon nods. “Nice to meet you, my name is ____.”

Nyryym nods, sitting upward so his head lies above the table, looking down at you. “A fitting name for my adorable pet.” He uses his tail to tilt your chin, admiring the way you fluster and blush. Your body responds almost naturally, that drowsiness from before weakening your resolve.

“Yeah, about that-” You swallow, a shaky smile on your face, “What’s the plan? Like, do you want me to do something or…” you gesticulate randomly. You’ve heard of dragons enjoying human talents before, like taking dancers or musicians, artists and poets to keep them entertained. But those were usually carefully curated picks, often from a big city or a royal court. You were just a farmer and while you’d like to think you're witty and charming, you didn’t have any extraordinary talents. “I c-can clean, or cook, maybe-” You look at the big pile of books near your bed, “Read to you?” You’d sometimes read to the children next door, putting on funny voices and such.

Nyryym chuckles again, patting you on the head with his tail.

“That is very sweet of you to offer, pet. You are such a dutiful sweetling. But I do not require you to do anything.” He sweeps his tail around your waist, nudging you to stand up and walk towards him. “Your company shall be delight enough, pet.”

“O-okay.” You nod, eyeing the large bed nearby. Surely he didn’t mean..

Well, you’re not gonna even broach that topic.

“I’m happy to help, Nyryym.”

His smile is less disconcerting than you thought it would be, especially with a mouth full of teeth that could grind your bones into dust. Nyrymm draws you even closer to him, his tail now fully wrapped around your waist. His head leans down dangerously close, enough that you yave to coach yourself not flinch away. Another hot breath of air blows through your hair, when you realize he’s smelling you.

Nyryym lets out a content sigh, rubbing your stomach with the tip of his tail. It almost tickles. After another sniff, he opens his eyes and stares you down.

“That’s a good pet. How about we retire for the night?”

You both look toward the bed, luxuriously plush and practically begging to be slept in. The combination of shock, the bath, the food and a morning full of work beforehand urges you to lie down. Now knowing that Nyryym doesn’t plan to eat you, that urge is even more compelling. So you nod, letting him guide you to the bed.

Laying down in the cotton sheets confirms your suspicions; You’re fucking exhausted. Your body sinks into the cushions, immediately pulling up the blankets to tuck yourself in. Nyrymm curls around the bed, lying his head so it's parallel to yours.

“Good night, my sweet pet.” He says, rubbing your face with his tail one last time.

“Good night, Nyryym.”

The hum of the cave and Nyryym’s heavy breathing, alongside everything else, quickly lulls you to sleep. It might be the best sleep you’ve ever had.

You guess things could be worse.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #gender neutral reader #dragon #dragon x reader #monster romance

702 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Note

congrats on 1k, angel!!! 💙 so soo proud of you!

whew okay, so the way i debated between wayyy too many things for your celebration because options 😵‍💫 but we're goin with mirror sex and breath play, ily ty

Bea, I love you. Thank you so much for your kind words - I'm grateful to call you a friend! And thank you so much for your request - mirror sex and breath play with Joel Miller coming right up. I hope you love it - it's a little different to what I'd normally go for, so I'm nervous to share it, but here we go!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count | 2k

Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. So, obviously we have breath play and mirror sex, there's some dirty talk, soft!Joel, some body insecurity from reader too.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.

You sigh as you take in your appearance in the bedroom mirror. There was no shying away from the fact that these past months in Jackson had changed your body. No longer scrounging for twenty-year-old cans of food or going days without eating just to make sure Ellie had enough. Here there was an abundance of everything. The warm stews from the mess hall, the fresh produce you cooked in your home, the barbecue food that would sometimes appear at The Tipsy Bison, it was all having an effect.

You’d tried to ignore the pinching of your waistband all day, had even popped the button at lunchtime and not bothered to do it back up until you have to walk back home, but as you lifted the hem of your shirt, Joel’s shirt, you could see the red lines the material had made on your skin. Doubt started to fill your mind. He’d stuck around through thick and thin with you, been there on your darkest days, and you on his, had seen your body go through far more than gaining a little weight, and still never left, but this place was different.

You couldn’t help but think about all the women here, captivated by the broad, mysterious new man who kept to himself. You heard them whispering in the bar about everything they’d like to do to him if only he’d give them a chance. Whether they noticed you listening in or not, it didn’t matter, you knew if Joel ever tired of you, he’d have the pick of the bunch.

You can feel the tears building behind your eyes, willing yourself to swallow them down before you lose control, when you feel that familiar, strong pair of arms encircle your waist. Automatically you mold into his frame, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, he’s an observant man though, he knows something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” You’ll never tire of that Southern drawl in your ear.

“It’s stupid.” You mumble, trying to turn in his arms, he’s keeping you exactly where you are though.

“Ain’t stupid if you’re upset,” He presses the softest of kisses to your cheek, “Tell me.”

“Jeans don’t fit.” You murmur, hoping that he won’t force you to repeat it, forgetting that he is actually pretty deaf these days.

“Huh?” Yep. Deaf as a doornail.

“I said,” You clear your throat, tears threatening to spill again, “My jeans don’t fit anymore.”

You can feel his breath exhaling deeply through his nostrils once he hears you, his arms bringing you closer, fitting tighter around your middle.

“That ain’t a bad thing, baby,” He muses, kissing the soft skin behind your ear, “Mean’s you’re alive, mean’s we’re livin’, properly now.”

“I know,” You whine, wriggling your body to try and get him to change the subject, “I just….”

“Just what?” He’s kissing down your neck now, “You gotta tell me what’s wrong, baby, else I can’t help.”

“Worried,” You sigh, mainly from frustration, but also from the sensation of his hot mouth on your skin, “Worried you won’t like me anymore.”

He movement of his mouth stops dead, pulling away from you, but keeping his arm tight around your middle, “Did I just hear you right, baby?” He asks, “Worried I won’t like you anymore?”

You nod silently, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He’s watching you intently in the reflection, taking one of his big palms from your middle to take your chin in his grip, “Look at yourself,” He commands, “You don’t see what I see?”

“I guess not?” You shrug, not being able to shake your head through his grip on your chin.

“Sugar,” He breathes, “I could never not want this face,” He’s let go of your chin and is instead trailing his fingers lightly over your cheeks, “The way your cheeks have gone plump, and that little dimple you get here,” He presses his finger right where he’s talking about, “Whenever you smile, you drive me crazy baby.”

Then he’s letting his other arm drop from your middle, placing a hand on either of your shoulders, teasing his fingers lightly down the skin of your arms until your flesh is erupting in goosebumps, even through the material of his flannel that you’re wearing. Once he’s trailed his hands back up to your shoulders, he’s unbuttoning the shirt, slowly but surely, and then dragging it off your frame, leaving you in just your bra and jeans.

This is the sight you hate. The way your tummy spills over the top of the waistband, the way the bra is definitely too small to comfortably do up in the back, causing little rolls of skin to spear, bunching around the material.

“Stop thinkin’ and listen to me,” He murmurs, back at your ear now, hands reaching around you to cup your breasts through your bra, “Always loved these,” His hot mouth is back to pressing kisses on the skin behind your ear, “Ain’t ever gonna complain about them getting bigger.” He’s firm in his squeeze which has you tipping your head back, pushing your chest further into his palms, but he’s already moving on.

His fingertips are gently running down your sides and over the curve of your waist, your body jolting when his touch borders on tickling, until he’s reaching around and undoing the button of your jeans and pulling the zipper down. There’s an instant relief, but you can see those damn red marks again.

“You see this?” He’s looking at you in the mirror again, urging your eyes to look at his hands where they are on your hips, “My favourite place to rest my hands, when I’m grabbin’ you in the kitchen to move you outta the way, or helpin’ you bounce on my cock.”

The utter filth mixed with the sweet sentiment have arousal pooling between your legs, you can already feel the need to rub your thighs together for a second of relief. You always wonders how he does this – takes the things you think are your biggest flaws and makes them seem so insignificant, but in the best way possible.

His hands skin the waistband of your jeans, hands slipping beneath the denim to grip the globes of your ass, “Do I need to say anythin’ about this, baby?” He asks, “Think you know exactly what I think about this peach.”

He’s right. You know it’s always been one of his favourite parts of you. The way his eyes would trail over you when you bent over when you were out on the road. The way he pulled at your hips to pull you closer into his body whenever he slept behind you. The way he would bring a hard palm down on the skin when he was fucking into you from behind or give it a playful swat whenever he walked past. The way he would grip onto it, much like he was now, when he would kiss you. He needn’t elaborate this time.

He shucks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles, guiding you to step out of them, before he makes quick work of unclipping your bra. You’re fully naked now, a sight you don’t think you’ve seen from yourself in many years. You want to shy away from it, want to pick apart the scars across your body, the added weight to your thighs and stomach. But when Joel is stood behind you, looking into your eyes in the mirror like he just won the lottery, it all inconsequential. None of it matters anymore. Because he was right. This means you’re alive, and you’re happy. You’ve got the man you always wanted to worship the ground you walk on. So what if you needed to go to the outfitters tomorrow for a new pair of jeans?

You meet Joel’s eyes in the reflection, noticing how your own eyes darken with lust at the same time his do, “You’re wearing far too many clothes, Joel Miller.” You whisper, voice low and husky.

You place a palm on the glass, leaning yourself forward. Your ass presses only momentarily into his crotch, before he’s pulling away and practically ripping his own clothes off. He’s naked and behind you in what feels like seconds. His calloused fingers are reaching around and slipping through your folds, dipping down to your entrance, where he finds you slick.

“Mama…..” He breathes, the term of endearment making you blush, “So wet and ready for me.”

“Always Joel.” You breathe as he brings those soaked fingers up to play with your clit.

You push yourself back into him, chasing his thick cock. You’re aching for him, always are.

“Look at yourself,” He’s saying, “Watch yourself when I give you my cock.”

You do exactly as he says, eyes on your own in the reflection as you feel him line himself up with your slick sex.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life tellin’ you just how beautiful I think you are, sugar,” He says, hand resting at your throat as he slides his cock into your aching cunt, “Gonna love you regardless of how many new pairs of jeans you might need, you hear me?”

You don’t answer straight away, overwhelmed as always by the way he’s stretching you open as he works himself into your pussy to the hilt. You’d never watched yourself like this and it’s almost like you’re having an out of body experience. You know the girl in front of you, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes glazed over is you and you know the man grunting behind you with his cock finally sheathed in your cunt is Joel, but it doesn’t seem real somehow.

“Gotta answer me baby,” He speaks as he draws his cock from you almost all the way, “Only gonna give it to you if you answer.”

“Yes Joel…” You whine, and you’re rewarded with his cock slamming back into you.

He sets that pace, one hand pressed firmly at your pussy, working at your clit, the other at the base of your throat where he squeezes every now and then. You’ve seen Joel in a thousand circumstances where he’s had his hand around someone’s throat before. None of them have ever ended well for the other party. He could snap you in half like a twig if he wanted, but the way he rests his hand, squeezing just enough to cut your air for seconds before he releases, does nothing but thrill you. It sends shocks down your spine, straight to your pussy. You can feel how wet you are, you can hear it as he stuffs you with his length.

You can see him in the mirror, and the visual is obscene. His teeth sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, the way his eyes are focused on the place where you’re joined together. You’re reveling in watching his fingers work your clit and you can feel that telltale coil in your belly start to unravel.

“Joel – fuck – don’t stop, I’m gonna….”

“Watch yourself,” He demands again, squeezing the hand at your throat, tilting your chin ever-so-slightly so you’re watching, his fingers rub a few more times over your clit before you’re letting go, “See how fucking pretty you look when I make you come, baby?”

There are no words at this point. Your legs are threatening to fail you, all you can feel is the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, repeatedly. All you can hear is his skin slapping against yours, your moans and groans combining. Then, just like he always does in this position, he’s pulling himself from your clenching walls and fisting his own cock. You hear him first, the low growl you’ve come to know and love, then you feel it, the warm ropes of cum spilling over the cheeks of your ass and dripping down your thighs.

You’re both quiet for a moment, respectively trying to catch your breath, before he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you backwards to the bed. He throws you down on the sheets, a surprise yelp leaving your mouth.

“Joel, the sheets!” You exclaim, “We just changed them, now they’re going to be covered.”

“Don’t care,” He grumbles, dropping to his knees in front of you, dragging you forward by an ankle, “Wanna eat this perfect pussy, make you forget everything, so all you’ll know is my name and what this mouth feels like.”

321 notes · View notes