#experimented with different brush set this time

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — TANGLED FATES

pairing: kinich, kaedehara kazuha, wanderer x reader

cw: soulmates! au. characters may look ooc. approximately 3k words. no pronouns mentioned though "my lady" is said in kazuha's part. fluffy, angsty, lovely. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Kinich

Kinich had always felt a subtle pull toward something—or someone—just beyond his reach.

From the moment he was born, the thread that connected him to his soulmate had been a delicate shade of translucent red, often fading to the point of nearly vanishing. It was a constant reminder of the distance between them, a tangible sign that his soulmate was far away, perhaps even in another nation.

The people of Natlan revered the concept of soulmates, believing that every thread was woven by the hands of fate itself. Kinich, however, was not the type to wander beyond his homeland in search of this elusive connection. The rugged beauty of his tribe, the thrill of hunting, and the camaraderie of his people grounded him. He found comfort in the familiar rhythms of his life, though sometimes, during quiet moments beneath the canopy of the trees or while gazing at the stars, the thought of his soulmate would flutter in his mind like a restless bird.

Yet today was different.

As Kinich navigated the vibrant festival of the Scions of the Canopy, filled with laughter and the smell of roasted meats mingling with the sweetness of ripe fruit, he couldn’t shake a strange sensation. He glanced down at the red string on his finger, and to his surprise, it was brighter than he had ever seen—deep crimson, like the fiery sunsets that painted the sky at twilight. The sudden vibrancy sent a jolt of energy through him, and his heart raced with possibilities. For the very first time, it felt that his soulmate was closer than he had ever imagined.

The thought barely settled in his mind when a commotion broke out nearby. Kinich turned to see a crowd gathered around the bungee jumping platform, a popular attraction that had people leaping into the air with exhilarating abandon. The sight of the participants soaring through the sky brought a fainted smile to his face—until he noticed one figure preparing for a jump.

His heart seemed to stop as he caught sight of you, your hair whipping in the wind, laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd. You appeared fearless, but as the countdown began, Kinich noticed something off: the rope seemed frayed, a dangerous instability in an otherwise thrilling endeavor. Panic surged through him as the countdown reached zero.

Before his mind could catch up to his body, he reacted. The faintest snapping sound echoed in his ears as the bungee cord gave way—a horrified gasp echoed from the crowd, but Kinich was already in motion. With a practiced flick of his grappling hook, he shot toward you, the hook catching a solid anchor just as you fell.

In the heartbeat between falling and impact, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, jerking you from the void. Time seemed to slow as the world spun and your eyes locked onto his—the man who had saved your life.

Kinich landed gracefully with you in his arms, his grip steady and reassuring as if it were second nature. As the adrenaline pulsed through you, your heart raced not just from the near-death experience, but from the realization that your strings—both of yours—were now glowing vividly, a striking red.

The connection between you was undeniable, even if the situation was surreal.

“That was... close,” you murmured, still catching your breath, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Kinich’s usual nonchalance wavered momentarily as his eyes lingered on yours. He gently set you down, his hand brushing against yours as the string on his pinky tightened, pulling you two together subtly but magnificently. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he said, his voice low but calm, the faintest trace of amusement playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering adrenaline. “Maybe a little of both.”

He let out a quiet hum, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. “Seems I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then.”

Before you could respond, a pitched voice cut through the air. “No! I though you’d finally gonna get yourself killed, Kinich. Shit! It seems I was wrong again.”

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “You wish.”

You blinked, wondering where the voice came from and noticing the sudden change in his demeanor, but before you could ask, Kinich’s focus returned to you. His intense gaze softened as he extended a hand, offering it to you with an unexpected formality. “It seems fate has brought us together in the most dramatic of ways.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “Seems that way. And here I thought I’d get a thrill from jumping, not falling.”

“There are safer thrills,” he answered, his hand still holding yours dearly. “One that doesn’t involve falling from cliffs.”

You bit your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hide a smirk, the soft flirtation in his voice making your heartbeats go faster. “Oh? Like what?”

He let his gaze linger on yours, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. “Perhaps we’ll find out together.”

The red string between you entwined, as if urging the two of you closer. For the first time in a long while, Kinich felt more than just duty or the thrill of a adventuring—he felt the warmth of something that had been distant for too long.

And for you, the world around you seemed to quiet as the only thing that mattered now was the connection between you and the man fate had quite literally sent to catch you.

Kaedehara Kazuha

From the moment of birth, the faintest whispers of your soulmate begin to form in your mind, weaving through your thoughts, and growing clearer with time. The voices aren’t constant, but they drift in and out, as if carried on a breeze, reminding you of the presence of someone far away yet intimately close. Sometimes, it's a word spoken aloud, a laugh shared with a friend. Other times, it’s a fleeting thought, as private as a breath. And from childhood, this voice becomes an indelible part of your life, a companion whose face you have never seen but whose soul you know deeply.

Kazuha was still a boy when he first heard the voice. He was playing alone in the gardens of his family’s estate, surrounded by the quiet rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the wind. And then, as soft as a whisper, he heard it—a voice that wasn’t his own.

It was delicate, like the sound of water trickling over smooth stones. A voice so pure it carried the sweetness of a lullaby. At first, he thought it was part of the wind, some trick of the breeze, but as the days went on, the voice returned. Sometimes it sang, sometimes it hummed a tune that was unfamiliar yet soothing. And when it spoke, Kazuha listened, enchanted by the rhythm of the words, even if they weren’t meant for him.

Years passed, and the voice became a familiar presence in his life. He learned to recognize its tones—the way it brightened when it was happy, or softened when the person behind it was lost in thought. Even when he left the security of his childhood home, embarking on his wandering journey, the voice followed him. It was a constant companion, a tether that connected him to something beyond the world he knew.

The voice belonged to an opera singer from Fontaine, though Kazuha would only come to know this much later. As children, you’d hear each other speak, often unaware of the impact your words were having on the other side of the world. You’ve been singing since you were small, your voice a bright light in the waterside streets of Fontaine, and Kazuha had come to love the sound of it—first as a soothing melody in the background of his thoughts, and later as a force that brought him comfort during his travels. He could sense your emotions through your voice—the joy you found in your craft, the occasional frustration in your rehearsals, and the quiet moments when you’d murmur your thoughts to yourself.

You, too, had been listening to him. From the first haikus he had whispered into the wind as a child, to the quiet contemplations of a young man growing into his own. Though Kazuha was never one to speak much, the moments when he’d recite poetry or talk to the wind were enough to fill your heart with a sense of companionship. His voice, calm and steady, was a comfort to you as you navigated your own world of art and performance.

Neither of you knew exactly who the other was, but your voices had become a part of each other. Even without a meeting, you had grown up together—two souls connected by the invisible threads of fate.

As Kazuha grew older, his understanding of the voice deepened. He’d often find himself drifting off to sleep, only to wake with the faint echoes of your songs still lingering in his ears. He marveled at how perfectly your voice blended with the world around him—the wind, the sea, and the rustling of leaves in the forests he wandered. Your voice had become a song in the symphony of his life, and he cherished it.

For you, his words were like the poetry he often whispered to himself—a gentle, constant reminder that somewhere out there was someone who understood the world the way you did. You often wondered what he looked like, what kind of person could speak so softly yet carry so much meaning in his words.

Years passed, and though your connection remained strong, you never rushed to meet. There was no urgency, no desperation. Just the quiet understanding that one day, you’d find each other.

It wasn’t until Kazuha’s travels led him to Fontaine that your worlds finally began to merge. The hydro nation was a place where the beauty of the arts and the depths of the sea intertwined. Kazuha had no intention of seeking you out immediately. He had learned patience long ago and trusted that the wind would guide him when the time was right.

But as he wandered the streets of Fontaine, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city, he heard your voice again—clearer than it had ever been. This time, it was no distant whisper but a melody that floated on the air, rich and vibrant. You were rehearsing for an upcoming performance, your voice filling the opera house with the same beauty that had once echoed in his dreams.

He stood at a distance, watching you from the shadows. You were every bit as graceful as your voice, your movements fluid and elegant. Your presence commanded the space around you, yet there was a softness to you that drew him in. You were speaking with one of the directors with enthusiasm as you discussed the details of the upcoming opera. And though you didn’t know it, the man you had shared your thoughts with for so many years was standing just a few feet away, watching with quiet reverence.

Kazuha’s heart swelled as he took a deep breath, allowing the wind to guide him forward. It was time.

With the same grace that had carried him through countless battles and journeys, he approached you, his steps light and unhurried. When you turned, eyes meeting, the recognition was instant. The voice that had been a constant presence in your lives was now matched with a face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped, leaving only the two of you standing in the fading light of the afternoon. And then, with a soft smile, Kazuha spoke.

“My lady,” he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that stirred the air around both of you. He took your hand in his own, bowing slightly as he lifted it to his lips. The soft kiss he placed on the back of your hand was filled with all the quiet emotion he had carried with him for so many years. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

Your smile widened, warmth rosing on your cheeks. “The honor is mine. I’ve heard your voice for so long… I almost thought I was dreaming when I heard you recite your poems for the first time.”

“As did I,” Kazuha replied, his crimson eyes soft as he gazed at you. “Your voice has been with me for as long as I can remember. Hearing you sing now… it feels as though I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

You laughed softly, the sound as musical as the voice he had come to love. “And I’ve been waiting for you. I always wondered when our paths would cross.”

“They were bound to,” Kazuha said, his tone warm. “The wind always carries us to where we are meant to be.”

With his and your hands still gently intertwined, you stood in the heart of Fontaine, the city alive with the murmur of art and life around them. But for the two of you, the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the echo of the voices that had connected you for so long.

In that moment, you knew that your journey—though long and winding—had led you both exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

Wanderer

In Teyvat, the concept of soulmates wasn’t something everyone discussed openly, but it was an unspoken truth understood by all. It was a tragic but beautiful reality for those people: no one ever dreamed—at least, not until they met their soulmate. The first and only dream a person would ever experience was a shared one, an intimate meeting with their destined one. This dream wasn’t bound by time or place, often filled with subtle moments, quiet connections, and profound understanding. But the dream itself didn’t mean immediate union. Many spent years after their dream searching, wondering when—or if—they’d ever cross paths with their other half in the waking world.

And not all believed they deserved a soulmate.

Wanderer had learned of the legend when he was still known as Kunikuzushi, back in the early days when he was newly formed and still discovering what it meant to exist. He hadn’t thought it applied to him, a puppet—a hollow being without a true heart, someone who was neither human nor divine. But one night, long ago, when he was still innocent and full of hope, he had a dream.

In that dream, he met you.

It wasn’t a vivid or wild vision. It was quiet, serene. You walked in a vast wheat field, your steps so rhythmic as if you were dancing between invisible trails that only you knew where it’d take you. Your back was turned to him but the sound of your laughter was a song that played like a lullaby in his head. When you looked up, your eyes meeting, something inside him stirred—a sense of calm, of being understood without words.

There were no grand gestures, no spoken promises. Just a glance, a soft smile, and a feeling that warmed him from the inside out. You were real, and for the first time in his short existence, he felt connected to something outside of himself. 

When he woke, the memory of that dream stayed with him, lodged deep in his mind like a forgotten melody. He tried to dismiss it, thinking it was some strange byproduct of his flawed creation. How could he have a soulmate when he wasn’t truly human?

Years, centuries passed, and Kunikuzushi became Scaramouche, and Scaramouche became Wanderer. He fell deeper into darkness, fueled by bitterness and anger. Yet, despite the walls he built around himself, the memory of the dream never fully faded. It lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes emerging in his quietest moments, like a long-lost hope he didn’t want to admit to. He believed that dream was lost to time, and that he had been undeserving of it. He had resigned himself to solitude, pushing away any notion that he might still have a connection to someone out there.

But everything changed the night he wandered the streets of Sumeru.

The night was calm, and the air was thick with the fragrant scent of flowers. It was one of those evenings where the city was still alive, bustling with life even under the veil of darkness. The marketplace glowed softly in the distance, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Wanderer had no purpose being there, only walking aimlessly, his mind drifting between thoughts.

Yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the memory of that dream began to surface. The image of you, twirling in a field, returned with startling clarity. He could almost see the light in your eyes, feel the quiet comfort of that moment. His steps slowed as a strange, almost magnetic pull tugged at his chest, drawing his attention toward the marketplace.

And then he saw you.

You stood at a vendor’s stall, your profile illuminated by the soft lantern light. His breath hitched. It was as if time stopped. You looked exactly as you had in the dream—your presence both familiar and startling. He blinked, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. After all this time, how could you be here?

You turned slightly, inspecting some trinket on display, completely unaware of him. The world around him blurred, all the noise fading into a distant hum as his focus remained solely on you. He felt his heart—did he even have one?—thunder in his chest.

A storm of emotions raged inside him. He hadn’t prepared for this. Could this truly be real? After all he had done—his mistakes, his hatred, his isolation—was it possible that fate hadn’t given up on him? Was he still deserving of a soulmate?

He found himself rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. He couldn’t approach you, not yet. How could he, knowing what he had become? A part of him was relieved, though—relieved that you existed, that the dream hadn’t been a cruel joke. But the hesitation that lingered was undeniable. What if you saw him for who he truly was and walked away? What if, after all these years, he was no longer the person you had dreamed of?

You moved away from the stall, and at that moment, your eyes swept over the crowd, casually scanning the area—until they locked onto his.

The recognition was instant, like a spark between two halves of a long-separated whole. You blinked, clearly processing what you were feeling as if the dream had come flooding back to you all at once. The same quiet understanding he had felt in the dream now passed between you in reality. Your expression softened, and though you seemed uncertain, you didn’t look away.

You took a tentative step toward him, your curiosity was evident. His heart raced again, the walls he had built around himself suddenly feeling fragile as if a single word from you could shatter them entirely.

And then you spoke.

“I saw you once upon a dream,” you said, your voice gentle, filled with the same warmth and wonder from the dream. There was no accusation in your tone, no judgment—just simple truth.

He swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, yet none of them made sense. All he could manage was, “Did you?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “I thought it was just a trick of my mind, but… seeing you now, I know it was real.”

He stood frozen, a mix of doubts, disbelief, and relief swirling inside him. The person he had dreamed of, who he thought was forever out of reach, was standing in front of him. And you remembered him.

His voice was quieter than he intended when he finally spoke again. “I never thought I’d find you.”

You stepped closer, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Neither did I. But… here we are.”

The warmth in your eyes was something he hadn’t felt in so long. It made the walls around his heart tremble, threatening to crumble. He wanted to say so much, to explain the years that had passed, to tell you how unworthy he felt—but none of it mattered in that moment. You were here, and you had dreamed of him, too.

Perhaps, despite everything, he still had a chance at something real. Something good. And for the first time in his long, fragmented existence, Kunikuzushi felt a flicker of hope.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Lessons Learned - Hyunjin

MINORS DNI 18+ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: tutor! Hyunjin x fem! reader

summary: if you fail this midterm, you're screwed. Thankfully, your counselor set you up with a tutor who's willing to help you out and he has a very interesting way of rewarding you whenever you answer a question right.

warnings: public sex, fingering, dom/sub dynamic, oral sex (f.rec)

Come on, Ace. You can do it.

You signed up for an introduction to economics class thinking it would be simple. It wasn't what you wanted to do, but you still needed the credit to graduate. You found the number of a tutor on the bulletin board in your common room and decided to give it a call.

“Yeah?” The voice on the other end sounded groggy and irritated.

“Hi! I saw your number and thought that maybe you could tut-”

“What time?” His voice spat at your ear.

“Oh! Uh, I'm free tomorrow afternoon. Does that work? Or we could-”

You were cut off again. He told you to meet him at the University library late afternoon tomorrow. Hwang Hyunjin. What a tool.

The next day you arrived at the library early. You wanted a table by the window and knew how coveted the seating could get. You placed your books around the table and tapped your pencil impatiently against your thigh. Hyunjin showed up exactly when he said he would. He wore glasses and a loose-fitting sweater vest over a short sleeved polo. His hair was messy and unkempt but you couldn't help but notice how incredible he smelled. Like vanilla and fresh cut cedarwood

The two of you met like that for days; with you showing up early and Hyunjin trying to explain the basics of economics. But you couldn't seem to grasp the concept. It was difficult to concentrate when he would lean in close to you, his breath tickling your ear as he spoke.

Come on, Ace. You can do it.

You would bite the eraser of your pencil anxiously. He has to know how gorgeous he was. He has to have girls chasing him all over campus. Sometimes when he would explain a formula or application, you could just stare at his mouth. You would watch his touch flick and bounce as he enunciated his words. Your thighs would squeeze together involuntarily at the thought of his touch moving and twisting around your mouth or your hardened sensitive nipples.

Come on, Ace. You can do it.

Every once and a while you would catch him staring at your breasts. Or he would catch you staring at his hands. More and more tension was building between the two of you without you getting any closer to understanding the assignments.

One day, Hyunjin leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"Well, let's do something a bit... different, shall we? How about we use a more practical application?”

You perked up in your chair and tilted your head curiously.

“What did you have in mind?”

Hyunjin grinned mischievously.

“How about we focus on the concept of supply and demand?” Hyunjin leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

"For instance, if I were to... touch you in places you wouldn't expect, how would you react? Would you push me away, or…?”

Your heart clenched in your chest and your hands gripped the edge of the table.

“I…I guess I don't know what I'd do.” You lied.

“Exactly, you don't know. And that's what makes it so interesting." Hyunjin reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Let's conduct a little experiment. I'll demonstrate the concept of supply and demand, and you can observe and react accordingly.”

Before you could answer him, Hyunjin stood up and walked over to your side of the table, kneeling down in front of you.

"Alright, let's start with the supply side of things.” He placed his hands on your knees and slowly started to push them apart.

"As the supply increases, the demand often increases as well.

You held your breath; quickly looking around the library to see if anyone else had noticed Hyunjin's new position in front of you. Hyunjin grinned wickedly as he continued to push your legs apart, moving his body between them.

"You're blushing. Your breathing is getting faster. See how the demand is rising?” He leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours.

You nod your head slowly, your entire body completely entranced with the feeling of his hands on your thighs. Hyunjin's grin grew wider, his hands continuing their exploration.

"Mmm, the demand is high, isn't it?" His hand slid up further, tracing the edge of your underwear.

"And what if I were to... slip my hand inside? Would you push me away or pull me closer?”

“Closer…” you whispered meekly.

Hyunjin’s hand slipped inside your underwear and his fingers made quick work of gently caressing your most intimate area. He let out a low, satisfied groan as he felt the slick excitement that was already leaking out of you. Hyunjin looked up at you, his grin wicked.

"Look at you... taking it so well. You're a natural, Ace." His fingers continued their rhythm, his pace quickening slightly.

"And now, what if I were to... curve my fingers just…”

He slowly slid his fingers in and out, his thumb gently rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves as his middle finger curved and curled. Your walls clenched around his slender finger, your hand now clasped like a vice over your mouth.

Hyunjin smirked at your reaction.

"Found your sweet spot, haven't I?" His fingers continued to stroke that spot, his thumb still rubbing your swollen clit.

"And now, if I were to... lean down and lick you while my fingers are inside you…”

Your head shot up and you glared down at him, your face turning redder by the second.

“Here?! Now?!” You growled. You loved how he was making you feel but you had never done anything so public before.

"Yes, here." Hyunjin said firmly, his eyes locked onto yours.

"I'm going to lick your perfect pussy while I finger you, and you're going to let me, aren't you?"

Hyunjin leaned down, his mouth hovering over your clothed folds before pulling your underwear to the side and licking you in one long, sweeping motion.

You moaned softly into your hand. Your body was feeling like it was on fire. Every nerve ending has been activated and needed stimulation. You tried your best to stay still, to make it look like nothing was happening. To convey the facade that this gorgeous man wasn't absolutely devouring you inside a library. The silence around you was glaringly apparent as Hyunjin gently coaxed your clit into his mouth and gently sucked on it. His fingers continued to curl and stroke your needy insides, his other hand still holding your leg in place. He looked up at you, his eyes shining with desire as sucked and pulled hungrily at your slick folds.

"Look at you... so pretty…”

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[sesamenom]

and finrod fell before the throne

-

click for quality, version without the song-magic below cut

[purenguyening]

The more I think about the post about reading work in the original language the more I find myself I want to add a bit of nuance.

While, it is true, that like there’s specific nuances and cultural context that exists in the original language it was written it, I do feel the need to point out translations have their own value too, like beyond accessibility.

 Hell, it’d be hypocritical for me to not value them given that it was a Vietnamese translation that got me invested into an OTP.

I think it is worth noting that learning a language to experience a work in the language it was written in might offer a new experience and that’s about it.

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[spencereid-reads]

juno | s. reid

word count: 2.2k words // warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of sextoys, condoms, improper use of fbi handcuffs. this one gets suggestive and was supposed to have smut but i'm too scared to write it. there's some breeding fantasies in there i think. probably continuation issues, i started this last week when i first listened to sabrina's new album and wrote chunks of it on different days. not proofread!

kindashy!spencer x shy!reader

to put it quite simply, you felt like you'd hit the jackpot.

for once in your life, things seemed to be going in your favor. this was the closest to perfection, you were sure of it.

you'd recently moved into a great apartment, with a perfect view of the district from the balcony. your apartment had a balcony, not just an old fire escape you'd used as one on your previous buildings. you'd been offered a promotion at work, which you obviously accepted and enjoyed your days at work more and more with each passing day.

the best part though, you'd been on a few dates with a guy who was just perfect.

the foolish part of you, fueled by all the romance novels and rom-coms you liked to watch on sundays, was already picturing a whole life with him, and with someone like spencer reid, it was hard not to.

he was something straight out of a fantasy, tall, slightly awkward but sure of what he wants, attentive and never once making you feel insecure. and he was so, so gorgeous, with big brown eyes that made you swoon, curly hair that begged you to run your fingers through the soft strands.

not only was he absolutely gorgeous, but his personality was what really sealed the deal for you.

date after date he set the bar higher for himself, five dates were enough to accept being exclusive, wanting to try something serious.

after five dates where you talked about everything, where he listened and asked about your interests, your dislikes, your thoughts on movies, where he confided in you about his life and past experiences, the downside to being a child prodigy, five dates were enough to know that no matter how this ended, you’d never have anyone like spencer reid in your life again.

“i don’t want this night to end,” you admitted as he walked you to your apartment door. you’d just gotten back from dinner and a walk through the park, to celebrate two whole months since you became spencer reid’s girlfriend.

“me neither. but you need to sleep, otherwise you’ll be grumpy in the morning.” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he made you wish you could have so much more time together than just two months of spencer reid being your boyfriend.

“i like my sleep. but i think i like you more,” you press your back against the door, inviting him in, to you.

“somehow i don’t want to test that theory,” he made you laugh, cradling your face in his hands as he leaned in and kissed you.

soft, full of want and longing, one of his hands cupped the back of your head, you tilting it back as your back arched against him. your hands wandered over his sides, down his chest, the slight tremble of his body against your hands made you feel powerful. the thought that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, was as affected by a brush of touch as you were.

“i- um, i should go. wouldn't want to keep you up,” spencer cleared his throat, pressing soft kisses to your cheek.

you knew it was basically impossible, but spencer was so dumb if he thought you'd be able to fall asleep right after this.

“okay,” you replied, hands fisting the soft material of his shirt before letting go, “text me when you get home?”

“of course. good night,” he pecked your lips once more, taking his time as he moved away from you.

“night, spence,” you whispered, your hand finding his for one last touch.

he pulled your joined hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you swore your heart was beating out of your chest.

that night you dreamt of his lips on yours, his hands exploring, adoring your body, you felt something other than butterflies in your stomach, something new and exciting, hotter.

a week later, your best friend sarah sat on your couch as you told her everything that had been going on between you and spencer. when you showed a few pictures you'd taken of him, and the two of you together, she actually high-fived you as you giggled, excitement filling your body.

“i don’t want to get my hopes up so much, so soon, but-” you bit your lip, heat flushing your cheeks as you recall the kiss you’d shared the last time you saw each other, on the other side of your door. he'd been called in to help on a case with the bau and would be arriving that night, “he makes me wanna fall in love. make him fall in love with me, i-” you shook your head, it was stupid to be this infatuated with someone so soon.

“well if he’s managed to get you this lovesick so soon, i say go for it. get your man, who cares that it’s only been two months?” she shrugged her shoulder, sitting next to you and wrapping an arm around you, “i’ve seen you through all your stages, and i’ve never seen you like this. you deserve to be happy, and from what you’ve told me, it seems like mr fbi makes you happy.”

“it’s dr.” you corrected, smiling as images of him filled your head, when he explained his extensive college degrees.

two days later, you finished doing your hair, waiting for spencer to arrive. since he’d been lecturing more often now, it’d been easier to schedule dates with him, and his eagerness to see you as soon as possible made your heart almost beat out of your chest.

you rushed to answer the knock on the door, the familiar pattern spencer always knocked against your front door caused an almost pavlovian response in you.

“hey,” you smiled, opening the door wider to let him in. “what’s that?” you asked, looking at a medium-sized pink box with a bow wrapped around it.

“it was on your doorstep,” he handed it to you, you frowned, grabbing it and read a yellow post-it note glued to the top.

‘to my beautiful friend and dr. fbi, be safe and have fun ;)!’

you immediately flushed, seeing sarah’s familiar handwriting. you shook your head with a small smile.

“everything okay?” spencer asked, taking a step toward you as he closed the door behind him. “do you know who sent it? if not i could probably-”

“yes, don’t worry, thank you. it’s from sarah, uh- my best friend i told you about?”

“oh, right, the wedding planner?” you nodded in answer. “what is it?” he asked, taking off his coat and hanging it next to your mess of handbags and coats, removing his shoes as well. making himself at home.

“i don’t know, uh- it’s- for the both of us,” you swore your cheeks could not get any hotter, as spencer stood next to you, a hand on your shoulder as he leaned in to read the small note.

“oh.” was all he said, his thumb rubbing circles on the exposed skin. “should we- uh, see what’s inside?”

“um, yeah, i just… i don’t know what it could be, and i apologize if it’s something inappropriate, i-”

“it’s alright, let’s just see what it is,”

with your heart in your throat, you undid the bow and lifted the top.

“oh, my god.” your cheeks burned, your chest not too far behind, and you heard spencer breathing in sharply.

inside the pink box laid a ton of condoms, in different sizes, a small pink vibrator, something that was supposed to be a set of lingerie, but was so small and transparent that you were sure you’d be better off wearing nothing. and to top it all off, a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. another note rested below them.

‘i’m not sure if the fbi has something against improper use of official handcuffs. use these ones meanwhile.’

you were going to die. scratch that, you were going to kill sarah and then yourself.

your trembling hands shook the box in your grasp, your whole being was screaming at you to toss it away, to cover it back up, to hide in your bedroom. but you stood there, frozen, still aware of spencer’s hand on your shoulder.

“i’m- i- i’m so sorry, i-” you managed to snap out of your shock, tossing the box on the couch and covering your face with your hands.

“hey, it’s okay- it’s-” he cleared his throat, “it’s an interesting gift, uh-”

“it was inappropriate and i should’ve- i should’ve checked before and…” you kept your hands cradling your burning cheeks, looking up at spencer and feeling your eyes burning too.

“it’s alright. i’m not offended or anything, i promise, besides i don’t think she did it with bad intentions, um- it seems like, uh, quite the opposite,” he cleared his throat once more, one hand moving to scratch the back of his head, and you noticed a pink tint in his cheeks, he was just as nervous as you were. “they don’t, by the way.”

“sorry?”

“the- uh, the bureau.” he clarified, “they wouldn’t know if i uh- were to use the handcuffs for, um-”

“oh.” you breathed, “that’s uh- good to know, i guess. yeah.” you answered, your mind wandering to places it definitely shouldn’t have.

“hey.” he called, standing in front of you, grabbing your hands in one of his, the other one raising to hold your face. “i know we haven’t talked about… uh, sex- yet, but- we won’t do anything until you want to. and if you don’t want to use any of this stuff we won’t either. the condoms, yeah, of course-”

“i’m on the pill.” you blurted out, and immediately regretted it.

“okay, but still, i’m not opposed to wearing condoms, yeah?” he reassured you, “let’s talk about something else, okay? i can feel how warm your face is. there’s no rush, i promise.”

“yeah?” you asked, getting lost in the change of his eyes, worried and soft, hopeful. “thank you.”

“of course. you don’t have to thank me,” he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead, and just like that all the uneasiness inside you melted away. “you good?”

“i- yeah. sorry for- freaking out i- i just didn’t know how you’d react to this, and i don’t- i don’t want to ruin this.”

“you didn’t. god, no, honey.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “i’ve never felt this way before,” he admitted, “if anything i’m the one who should be worried about ruining this, with all my past and all the trauma.”

“spencer, i don’t care about that- i li- i like you just the way you are.”

“exactly, you don't judge me for my past, or make me feel self-conscious about it. and i like you just as you are too. sweet and shy, and all flustered for me.” he placed his hand on your stomach, “breathe, deep.” he instructed, “in, hold it, out.” you followed his lead, somehow unaware of how uneven your breathing was, though it didn’t surprise you. “and now i’m going to change the topic of conversation because i don’t want you to pass out on me, yeah?”

you laughed at that, shutting your eyes and shaking your head slightly, when you opened them back up, you were met with his soft, tender eyes looking at you intently.

“hey,” spencer said, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close. your arms, on instinct, found their place on his neck.

“hi.” you murmured sheepishly. “i didn’t even say hello to you properly.”

“that’s alright. let’s order some food and we can catch up, that sound good?” he asked, you nodded, a burst of confidence inside of you made you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek.

“i really like you.” you confessed, not knowing where this bravery came from. maybe it was just him. something about spencer as a whole just brought comfort and peace to you. if he was with you you’d be alright.

“i really like you too, sweet girl.” he grabbed on tighter to you, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. all the air left your lungs once more as your fingers found themselves tangled in his hair. your loud mind became foggy as you focused on the feeling of him on you. his lips, his body pressed against yours, his hands on you.

a soft, surprised moan left your throat as spencer bit your lower lip lighty, retreating.

“i’ll make the call, italian okay?”

he left you standing there, still reeling from the kiss, the ghost of his lips on yours still there, your tongue poked out to lick your lips, tasting him, tasting yourself.

god bless whatever genes, deities and universes that came together in order to create spencer reid.

and if one of him is perfect, could the world handle two? a mini reid, with his hair and eyes and brain, his politeness, as well as the best part of your genes?

it’s a wicked thought for such an early state in a relationship.

“i ordered the tiramisu also, i remember you really liked it the last time we were there, i hope that’s okay.”

“it’s perfect, thank you.” you walk to him, quieting your mind as you hug him, burying your face in his chest. “thank you.”

for wanting me, for making me feel special, for paying attention, for liking me, for not running away, for making me believe a future is possible.

it all goes unsaid, but you mean it, and you hope he doesn’t think you’re clingy, as you pour all your feelings into the hug.

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun

doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk! wc: 7.7k synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible masterlist | sunghoon a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!

p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.

You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.

The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.

Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful. 

Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities. 

Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.

Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence. 

You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.

“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.

Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.

With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.

“Thank you!” 

The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes. 

You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.

"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?

Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries. 

Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.

The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.

You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.

Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.

Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.

Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?

You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you. 

The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.

Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.

Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.

With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.

After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them. 

As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.

You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.

Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.

You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.

A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.

First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties. 

With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.

A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.

Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion. 

Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?

Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.

As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.

With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.

“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.

Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.

Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.

The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.

Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.

With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.

Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment. 

“Thank you.”

Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.

As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.

Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.

Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.

Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.

With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?” 

His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you. 

Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.

Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.

"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.

Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.

“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"

Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”

As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."

"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.

The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.

Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.

You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.

“What?”

"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.

As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.

“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.

Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.

Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.

But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.

This is a doll, not a real person.

You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.

His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.

"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.

Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure. 

"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.

He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.

However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.

However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.

"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable. 

Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.

His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.

But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.

You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked. 

With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.

Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.

And he looks so fuckable right now.

Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.

His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.

Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.

With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.

You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"

He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.

Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.

You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.

There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.

Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful. 

His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.

Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.

With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling. 

There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.

Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.

His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."

Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.

But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?

You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”

His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.

“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?” 

Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.

“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."

The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again. 

You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it. 

As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.

With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.

You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.

And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.

Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.

Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.

You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."

Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”

Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.

He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.

You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.

His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.

“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.

You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.

“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.

Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another. 

Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.

Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.

He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.

It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.

You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace. 

The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.

Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.

“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time. 

Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.

Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.

Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.

As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.

"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.

You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.

"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.

Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.

Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.

His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”

It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll. 

With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.

You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.

“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.

This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[x0xomady]

whole lotta love

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summary: you go to the studio with harry and he needs to take out his pent up exhaustion on something.

(rockstar!harrystyles x fem!reader)

title is based on one of my fav led zeppelin songs - 🌟

warnings: this is straight up smut. 18+. degrading names, dumbification (kinda), lots n lots of sex. p in v, oral fem and male receiving

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sitting in the studio with harry is one of my favorite things. watching him move through the different recording booths, pick up different guitars, and sing was always entertaining.

harry was a living storm, a whirlwind of guitars, microphones, and infectious energy. he moved effortlessly from one booth to the next, each instrument under his fingers like an extension of himself. his voice reverberated through the studio, filling every corner with a soulful, raw power that left me breathless.

every time he took a new microphone in hand, his features took on a different air, a different persona. his eyes would light with life as he played with the various settings and effects, experimenting with his voice to produce sounds i’ve never heard before.

i’ve always loved harrys strong voice. however, nothing is better than watching him play guitar.

there was something mesmerizing about watching him play. his fingers moved like lightning across the strings, plucking out complex riffs and solos effortlessly. the way he gripped the guitar, his entire body moving in sync with the music, was like watching a piece of art come to life.

i couldn’t help the way my eyes wandered down to his tattoo and ring adorned hands.

as harry continued to play, his green eyes met mine, and i felt a jolt of electricity run through me. he gave me a small smile, and i felt my heart race in response. i couldn't take my eyes off him, the way he moved, the way he played, it was all so captivating.

harry puts down his guitar and walks out of the booth to the couch where i’m sitting. “hows it sounding, baby?"

he asks, his voice smooth and confident. i can't help but smile at his endearing nickname for me. "it sounds amazing. i liked that last guitar solo a lot," i reply, with a smile as i look up at him.

harry's smile widens, and he takes a seat next to me on the couch. "i'm glad you think so," he says, his green eyes sparkling with pride. we sit there, listening to the playback of his latest recording.

as harry settled in beside me, his thigh brushing against mine, i felt a flutter in my chest. he reached out to grab the remote control, his fingers grazing my knee, and i couldn't help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. he talks to the other artists and producers in the studio as they edit and playback his recordings.

harry pulls out a cigarette and leans back against the couch, resting his hand on my thigh while talking to the producers. the smoke from his cigarette swirls around us, creating a hazy, intimate atmosphere. as we listen to the playback of his latest recording, i can't help but glance down at harry’s ring clad fingers. my stomach tightens slightly as i look down at his firm grip on my thigh.

being harry styles girlfriend is hard because theres never enough time. when harry isn’t on tour playing his music for his fans, he’s in the studio writing. that’s why i always go to the studio with him. we hold onto any time we have that we can spend together, even if that means sitting on the couch listening to him play for hours.

as harry's fingers drummed a gentle rhythm on my thigh, i felt his gaze shift from the producers to me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

he took a slow drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling around us like a veil, and i could sense the weight of his exhaustion, the toll of constant creativity and performance. his hand on my thigh tightened, a subtle squeeze that told me ‘i need to fuck out my frustrations'

i smiled and rolled my eyes as harry teasingly dragged his palm across my inner thigh. his eyes never left mine, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"you know you want to," he whispered, his voice low and husky. i couldn't help but smile and shake my head at his actions. harry was never shy with pda, even when his best friends and writing team were all sitting 6 feet away from us.

harry chuckled softly, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in closer. "you know i can't resist you, love," he murmured, his hand sliding back onto my thigh, fingers tracing circles against the fabric of my jeans. i couldn't help but smile, my heart fluttering at his words.

"harry, there are four other people in here," i whispered, my voice barely audible over the music playing in the background. "hands to yourself." i playfully pushed his hand away, my fingers lingering on his for a moment before i pulled away. harry's eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch, play playing on his lips.

as harry leaned back against the couch, his eyes never left mine. he took another slow drag on his cigarette, i could sense the tension in his body, the pent-up frustrations and overstimulation from the day waiting to be released.

"alright, i think that's enough for today," he says to the producers, his voice low and husky.

while the producers packed up their gear, harry's gaze remained fixed on me, giving me a look that made my stomach tighten. he waited quietly, nodding to the team as they left the room. until, everyone was gone, leaving us alone in the suddenly silent studio.

as soon as the door closed behind the last producer, harry was on me like a flash. his hands grabbed my face, pulling my lips against his in a passionate kiss. i could taste the smoke from his cigarette on his lips, the familiar scent of his cologne filling my senses.

his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. i wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as i kissed him back, my heart pounding in my chest.

harry's hands moved down my body, tracing the curves of my hips as he pulled me closer.

as harry's hands continued to explore my body, i couldn't help but sigh, "fuck harry." our clothes quickly fell to a pile on the floor, and harry's lips found my neck, leaving a trail of sweet but rough kisses. his touch was urgent and passionate, a release of the pent-up energy that had been building up all day.

harry's lips trailed down my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. i could feel his breath against my skin, his fingers digging into my hips as he held me close. "gonna have a quick taste, baby," he mumbled against my skin, his voice low and husky.

his lips found my nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. i gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, pressing myself closer to him. harry's other hand moved down my body, his fingers slipping between my legs.

"already wet for me?" he asks, his voice low and husky. i can only nod, my breath coming out in short gasps as harry's fingers continue to trace along my center.

harry's lips find mine again, his tongue slipping into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. i can feel his erection pressing against my thigh, and i can't help but moan against his mouth. harry's fingers continue to move inside me, his thumb rubbing against my clit in slow, deliberate circles.

harry's grin widens as he pushes his middle finger past my tight entrance. "so fucking slutty for me, isn't that right baby?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. i gasp as the cold rings sitting at his knuckles graze my entrance.

“i barely have to touch you and you’re a sopping wet mess.” harry’s thumb continues to rub against my clit in slow, deliberate circles, his fingers moving within me. i whimper as harry teases me, his fingers never stopping.

harry's eyes lock onto mine as he pulls away from me, his lips curving into a smirk. he slides down my body, his fingers trailing along my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. i can feel my heart pounding in my chest as he settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my skin.

he leans in, his lips brushing against my inner thigh, leaving a trail of soft kisses. i can feel his fingers digging into my hips, holding me in place as he presses a sweet kiss to my bundle of nerves.

"please harry-" i groan as harry sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it in rapid, gentle strokes. my hips buck up against his face, seeking more friction, as he hums a low, vibrating note that resonates against me. his fingers, still buried inside me, curl upward, stroking my spot while he looks up at me innocently.

as harry continues to nurse on my core, my hands tangle in his curls, pulling him closer. his tongue flicks against my clit in rapid, gentle strokes, causing my hips to buck up against his face. i can feel the tension building inside me, my breath coming out in short gasps. harry's fingers continue to move inside me, curling upward to stroke my spot.

his eyes lock onto mine, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches me unravel beneath him. i can feel my orgasm building, my body trembling with anticipation. harry's tongue continues to move against my button, while his fingers move faster inside me.

"come for me baby. then i'm gonna make you come again on my cock." he grins and kisses my clit, his lips brushing against my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

his thick fingers continue to move inside me, curling upward to stroke my spot, as his tongue flicks against my clit. i can feel my orgasm building, my body trembling with anticipation, and i know i'm on the edge, ready to fall apart beneath him.

as i teetered on the edge, harry's fingers curled upward, stroking my spot with precision, and his tongue danced against my clit. my stomach tightened, my hips bucking up against his face as i let out a soft, moan, and harry's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with intensity as he watched me unravel beneath him.

with the combined sensations of his tongue and fingers against me, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. a grin spread across his face as he lapped up my release. his tongue licking up the creamy mess that dripped from my entrance.

as harry's tongue lapped up the last drops of my release, he slowly kissed his way up my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. he paused at my nipples, teasing them with gentle nips and licks, sending shivers down my spine.

his dark lust filled eyes met mine as he finally reached my lips, pushing his against mine in a sloppy kiss that left me breathless.

as harry's lips moved against mine, i could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. "please fuck me, harry," i whimpered, my voice breathless and desperate. despite being overstimulated and exhausted, i needed to feel him in me. harry's grin widened as he pulled away from me, his dark eyes filled with desire.

he positioned himself between my legs, his length pressing against my entrance, as he looked down at me with a wicked grin. "you sure you can handle it, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

harry's lips curled into a smirk as he kissed across my collarbones, his fingers tracing the curves of my body. "i don't know if these sweet little cunt can handle it," he teased, his voice low and husky.

harrys fingers gripped my hips as he pressed the tip of his cock against my clit. i gasped, my hips bucking up against him as he continued to tease me, his dark eyes filled with desire.

"quit teasing," i whine, my voice laced with desperation, and push my hips up against his, seeking friction against his length.

harry's smirk widens as he holds his position, the tip dragging across my entrance. his fingers dig deeper into my hips, his grip tightening as he slowly begins to circle his cock around my entrance.

harry's eyes twinkled with mischief as he smirked down at me, his thick tip just past the tight entrance of my cunt. "yeah? is that what my girl wants? you want me to fuck you?" he teased, his voice low and husky. i nodded, my hips bucking up against him.

"you were such a good girl sitting in the studio all day patiently... guess i gotta give you what you want," he said. with a swift thrust, harry buried himself inside me, his cock filling me up completely.

as harry's cock filled me up completely, i felt my inner walls stretch to accommodate his thick length, and a low moan escaped my lips. his green eyes locked onto mine, burning with intensity as he paused for a moment, allowing me to adjust to his size. then, with a slow, careful movement, he began to withdraw, his cock dragging against my sensitive walls.

harry's cock dragged throughout my core, my muscles fluttering around him. he paused for a moment, his eyes locked onto mine, before slowly thrusting back in, his length filling me up completely once again. with each deliberate stroke, he built a rhythm that had my hips moving in sync with his.

“shit- i love you so much.” harry groans and pushes his forehead against my shoulder while he thrust into me.

my eyes squeeze shut as harry quickens his pace. his thick cock moved deeply, my tight walls squeezing him. i whimper when i feel the harsh ridges and veins of his length move within me.

“i love you too, h” my hands hold onto harry’s shoulders as he quickly thrusts into me.

harry moans against my neck and continues snapping his hips against mine. his hands grip my hips tightly before flipping me over so i’m laying on my stomach. i squeal in surprise when he does this, which makes him chuckle and kiss my cheek.

“so fucking gorgeous…” he mumbles against my skin while grabbing my hips. without warning harry thrusts back in, in one quick movement.

harry snakes a hand down my body to my core. his fingers quickly find my clit, as he begins rubbing tight circles over it. my stomach tightens and i press my hips back against him, fucking back to meet his thrusts.

“that’s it baby. fuck- i can’t even last around you.” he squeezes his eyes shut and picks up his pace.

harry's thrusts become more erratic as he continues to pump into me, his fingers still working my clit. i can feel my orgasm building, my muscles tensing as i move my hips back against him.

“harry, i'm gonna come," i gasp, my voice barely above a whisper. harry's thrusts become more urgent, his fingers pressing harder against my clit as he chases his own release.

“good girl. come one more time for me baby.” he bites my shoulder to muffle his moans.

as i tremble on the edge of release, harry's fingers dance across my clit with increased force, his cock pounding into me with reckless abandon. my body begins to shudder, my walls clamping down around him, a low, whine escapes my lips as my second orgasm crashes over me. harry's grip on my hips tightens, his own release mere seconds behind mine.

"god- you're milking me, love" he groans as his thrusts become sloppy, his cock still twitching inside me as he releases paints his seed across my walls. i feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, his chest heaving against my back as he tries to catch his breath.

after a few moments of catching his breath, harry gently pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty. he sits on the couch next to where i’m laying, his chest still heaving as he tries to regain his breath. i turn over to face him, my eyes meeting his. he gives me a lazy smile, his eyes still filled with desire.

“i’m fucking crazy for you," he murmurs. he grins and rolls his eyes playfully. "i don't think i'll ever get enough of you."

he leans in, his lips finding mine in a passionate kiss. i can taste myself on his lips, the lingering sweetness of our shared pleasure.

as we kiss, i can feel harry's cock twitching against my thigh, already growing hard again. i smirk against his lips, my hand sliding down to wrap around his length. he groans into my mouth as i begin to stroke him, his hips bucking up to meet my touch.

"fuck, you're insatiable," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

i giggle and slide down to the floor of the studio, my knees hitting the ground as i sit in between harry's legs. i look up at him, my eyes filled with mischief as i take his cock in my hand, my fingers wrapping around his growing length.

harry groans, his head falling back against the couch as i begin to stroke him, my hand moving up and down his shaft with practiced ease. i can feel him growing harder in my hand, his cock twitching with each stroke.

i lean forward, my tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum.

harry's hips buck up as i take him fully into my mouth, my lips sliding down his length as i begin to suck. he groans, his hands tangling in my hair as i work my mouth up and down his cock, my tongue massaging his shaft. i can feel him growing harder in my mouth, his cock twitching as i continue to suck him off.

i moan around his length, my hand moving to cup his balls as i continue to work my mouth up and down his cock. harry's hips buck up, his cock hitting the back of my throat as he begins to thrust into my mouth.

harry's cock pulses in my mouth, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he chases his release. i can feel his balls tightening in my hand, his cock twitching as he gets closer to the edge. my tongue dances around his shaft, massaging him with every stroke, and his moans grow louder, more urgent, as he loses control.

"good girl-" he groans and tightens the grip in my hair making me whimper around his length. "just needed my cock in your mouth, isn't that right baby?" his words are laced with a mix of desire and possessiveness, as i continue to suck him off.

i moan in response, the vibrations from my mouth causing his cock to twitch even more, and he lets out a low, groan, his hips bucking up to meet my lips.

with a final, desperate thrust, harry's cock surges forward, releasing a hot, salty stream of cum that floods my mouth. i swallow greedily, my throat working to take in every last drop as harry's body shudders above me, his fingers still tangled in my hair.

“swallow all of it.” he looks down at me with a dark, but loving, gaze.

i grin and collect the cum that dripped out of my lips with my finger tips. my mouth wraps around my fingers as i clean them off, drinking in his salty release. “swallowed all of it.” i smile and look up at him.

harry's body relaxes, his grip on my hair loosening as he pulls me up to kiss him. our lips meet in a passionate, lingering kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he tastes himself on my lips. he pulls back, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me. "you're amazing," he murmurs, his voice thick.

i smile up at him, my heart swelling with love and desire. i whisper, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "i love you, harry."

as we are whispering things to each other and sharing sweet kisses, a knock on the door interrupts us, the sound of mitch’s voice following.

“are you guys done fucking yet?” his bored voice coming from the other side of the door makes harry smirk and roll his eyes.

“yeah yeah give us a minute.” he grins and gives me a kiss before leaning in and whispering back to me. “i love you more.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wow that got wayyyy too horny at the end. if you read all that- i’m so sorry 😭

-xoxo

[tbaluver]

Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?

S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.

If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.

He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.

Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.

Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.

He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.

Zayne:

Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.

If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.

He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.

He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.

He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.

He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.

It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.

If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.

Rafayel:

He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.

OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.

Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.

He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.

Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.

If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.

He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.

Sylus:

It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.

When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.

He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.

When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.

Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.

Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.

When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.

[radiance1]

Tim, officially, does not have a new caretaker.

Tim, unofficially, does have a new caretaker.

A large, large man with long flaming purple hair that was capable of touching the floor if it didn't move like fire with sharp glowing green eyes and a neutral, if a bit of a resting bitch face, expression on his face.

Comparatively, he was not dressed oddly. Nothing but a white compression shirt, grey sweatpants and a pair of black sandals. The only thing odd about it was the sword constantly strapped to his waist, though Tim ignored it when he saw the man using it to chop ingredients.

Fright, he called himself, and Tim never asked if it was his actual name or not. He was just glad someone came over as constantly as he does.

He doesn't know where the man goes at night, after making sure he's tucked into bed and asleep, but he never pried. Mostly because he wasn't supposed to know that, and he doesn't want Fright to catch onto the fact that he was constantly sneaking out at night either.

So they'll both keep their secrets.

===

Fright Knight was at a loss with himself.

His master, Pariah Dark, had been once again released from the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep and he wasted no time to return to his side. Even with his previous betrayl.

The events that followed were unexpected.

His master did not continue his eons long war with life. Though it had long since turned silent with his imprisonment, it was still brewing under the current of 'peace' that the Ghost Zone fell into.

Fright Knight knew that well.

So, what exactly was he supposed to do when his master returned to his time as naught but a humble farmer and started to rebuild the bridge he had long burnt with the Master of Time?

He felt... conflicted.

Of course, reconnecting with the Ghost of Time was a good thing, and he has been subject to witness just how much passion they had for each other during days long past.

But his master picking up a life that was not one honed through blood was always an odd thing for him to experience. Two peas in a pod, as some would say they were.

War and Fear.

Where War went, Fear followed. Rivers of flowing blood with storms of fear promised was something too tempting for him to resist.

Fear was a sword, and he was War's blade.

So it was not something easy for him to adjust to when War settled down into peace and sought prosperity instead of his namesake. Of course, he, as always, adjusted regardless of the situation and followed his master in his newest endeavor.

It was much harder to preserve a life, than it was to end it. They both came to realize. On his master's part, farming was something he pondered over and donned for a brief time eons ago, the new methods of today clashing wildly with what little he knew of the activity before War sung to him again. For Fright Knight, he had not a single nail's worth of experience in the act, never having had an interest like War did and as such, never learned.

It felt rather odd to use his blade to cut gifts from the land, but if he replaced them with images of enemies long since snuffed, it wasn't exactly hard.

He could not stay there for long; however, it was just too... different, from what he was used to. The Ghost King knew this and told him he was free to be left to his own devices so long as it did not affect the rules the Master of Time had set for them.

Or rather, War. But as Fear was in his service, he was not exactly exempt from said constraints, either.

So he wandered, keeping to his 'human' persona he was told to set for himself here. He was thankful that these beings called Meta's existed as no one gave him more than a second glance.

Though if that was more something to do with his height he did not know.

He came upon a city, one of shadows and filled with curses in numbers that even made him pause in slight bafflement. Lady Gotham, the city's spirit, brushed against him as soon as he stepped foot within her haunt, and it did not take long for them to reach and accord.

Fear was allowed to stay, so long as he did not do anything she did not permit. He was fine with said rules, after all, what was another constraint compared to those set by Time itself?

He had a favorable view of this city, just the ambient fear alone made it worth stepping inside. It was better than War's attempt at peace, though it was nothing due to the being itself he was just... used to being surrounded by fear.

Then he met a human child by the name of Timothy Drake. A meeting by chance and nothing else, but he did need something to do by Lady Gotham's suggestion.

So he became the boy's 'caretaker' though if he were a good one was something he could not comment on.

He did not need sleep, his new ward did, so when night fell, he always stepped out of the city to go back to his master and reappeared the next morning.

The thing about his new master's attempt at peace, was that he was quite willing to give away the gifts he received from the land. Which was helpful, considering he had no idea how to acquire money in this new age.

[zvdvdlvr]

— Morning Smoke

💜 — Synopsis. You knew you had a thing for the one person who had a clear distaste towards you. But maybe having a wet dream about him- while sleeping in the same room as him- was probably a good thing.

💜 — Warnings. Rushed writing. Unedited. Dry humping. Clothed grinding. Reader and Spencer smoke cigarettes.

One year, eleven months, and six days. Thats how long you’d been working for the BAU catching serial killers, bombers, and rapists by observing every detail if their crime. You’re a valuable asset to the team, your brain working on the same page as the rest of the team with just a different design. 

During your time at the BAU, you recieved many titles. Caffeine fiend(Aaron), best friend(Penny), mama (Derek), and idiot- affectionately- (Emily). The only person that hadn’t called you anything other than your first or last name, or agent was Spencer Reid.

There was a barrier between the two of you- unspoken, of course, but there was just some kind of wall seperating you from him. You didn’t blame Spencer for keeping you at at arm’s length: you were just some new agent who would eventually transfer. Admittedly, it hurt when Spencer politely uninvited himself from the activities you went along with. And it felt like a gut punch when Spencer chose the farthest seat from you on the jet and chose to move away from you while giving profiles to the police. But you figured he had his reasons.

“Y/n,” Emily murmured, nudging your arm. You looked up, bleary eyes focussing on the dark haired woman in front of you. You blinked.

“What’s- hey!” You cried out indignantly as Emily snatched the cold cup if coffee you had started to reach for. “Emily.”

“It’s time to go back to the hotel. Hotch’s orders,” the dark haired woman said, nodding to the team behind you.

You nodded. “Okay.” You stood up and hastily tucked papers into the manilla folder you were working on. “I’m ready.”

“Put those files down, y/n,” Hotch commanded, raising a tired eyebrow in your direction. “If I’m tired, you have to be a dead woman walking.”

You put the file down and pulled your coat on without protest. You’d only actually seen Hotch exhausted a handful of times. And Hotch was right: you did feel like you were about to fall over. Maybe having an iron deficiency and drinking coffee off an empty stomach wasn’t a very pleasant experience…

The ride to the hotel was over in a blink of an eye- a really ling blink apparently. You hadn’t even known you had reached the hotel until the inevitable and only boy genius Spencer Reid shook your shoulder gently to wake you up. Truly, you thought you were dreaming when you opened your eyes and Spencer’s face surrounded by a mat of curly hair greated you. His furrowd eyebrows relaxed when you looked around.

“Let’s go, l/n. You’re rooming with me,” Spencer told you after locking the car.

If you were in the right state of mind, you probably would have bent over giggling from the way Spencer put his arm around you as he led you into the building. But you weren’t so you just rested your head in the juncture if his shoulder and neck. He smelled good for someone who’d been awake for God knows how long. If you concentrated you thought you could feel the heat of his palm around you, moving in teeny tiny circles.

By the time you reached the bedroom you were practically unconscious in Spencer’s arms, yours and his go-bag around Spencer’s other arm. Spencer gently set you down on the bed closest to the door and put your go-bag in the bed beside you. “You should probably get changed, but I know how tired you are. I’ll shower tonight so you can shower tomorrow,” he explained, brushing a baby hair out of your line of sight. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Spence,” you mumbled, eyes caught in the way Spencer’s lips moved and twitched. He was an expressive man when he was tired, and you caught the rare smile that graced his lips.

You hoped you would remember the blush on his cheekbones that matched the color of his lips when you woke up the next morning.

Birds chirped. The bright sun shone through the blinds of your home, patterning your room with strips of orangey-yellow. You turned over and saw him.

“Hey, you,” Spencer greeted. His hand came to rest gently on your cheek and pull you up to his pink lips. Your leg fluidly moved to straddle Spencer’s right leg.

Breathlessly you muttered a “good morning” before your hand tangled in Spencer’s curly hair, tugging his head down to meet your desperate kisses.

Spencer moved his thigh up to rub harshly on your core. You gasped sharply and ground down to meet Spencer’s thigh. “Oh fuck,” you whispered, watching Spencer’s back arch as you palmed the massive tent in his pants.

A strangled cry left your lips when Spencer’s massive hands fell onto your hips and controlled your movements. “That’s my girl,” Spencer growled, your hands feeling up Spencer’s chest and tracing the curves and lines of his neck. As your orgasm approached, your hands grasped Spencer’s face and harshly pulled him into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“Y/n,” Spencer murmured, voice low.

“Fuck,” you cursed. “Jus’ like that,” you slurred.

“Y/n,” Spencer repeated, one hand sliding up to your shoulder.

Your jaw clenched and your hips jerked violently.

“Y/n.”

You shot up in bed, sweat soaking your forhead and hair. You looked around wildly, chest heaving. 

In front of you sat Spencer Walter Reid, eyes beady with sleep. “Are you okay? You sounded like you were having a nightmare-?”

“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, running a hand through your hair. “I’m- yeah I’m alright. I just-“ you exhaled. “Go back to bed, Reid, I’m alright.”

“A-Are you sure?”

You wanted to groan. The ruins of a spoiled orgasm simmered away in your blood. “Yes. I just- Yeah it was a nightmare. I’m gonna- go get ready.”

“L/n, it is 4 o’clock in the morning.”

You thanked the dark lighting for concealing the dark patch of your pants due to your arousal. “It’s- Please go back to bed.”

“Talk to me,” Spencer pleaded, grabbing your hand.

“It’s nothing, Reid. There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed.”

“It’s a proven fact that people who discuss their nightmares with someone increase their happiness and healing process by more than 50%,” Spencer rushed.

“Reid it’s embarrassing. I can’t-“ you shook your head. “I’ll- please, Reid.”

The moonlight glinted in his eyes as he searched you for answers he knew you wouldn’t give him. “Are you- y/n. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Your jaw tightened and you looked away. Your thighs burned- you must have been humping the blanket between your thighs. “Reid, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

You threw your hands up. “I know you don’t like me, Reid. It’s kind of obvious, so I’m just saying that you don’t need to have a therapy session because we’re rooming together.”

Spencer genuinely looked offended. “I don’t hate you,” he murmured. “I never have.”

You scoffed and stood up, dream completely forgotten. “Could have fooled me, Reid. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You left Spencer on your bed, bringing your go-bag to the tiny bathroom.

— 💜

After scrubbing you skin raw you finally exited the shower and pulled your hair into a braided updo before pulling on some clean clothes.

The sky was still dark when you exited the hotel, cigarette box in hand.

You sat in the ground, smart enough to know not to willingly wander too far outside of the vicinity of the rest of the team while at an unfamiliar location. “Goddamnit,” you murmured, lighting up a cigarette and watching the sun start to stain the concrete.

Visions of dead bodies filled your mind. Empty coffee cups getting tossed into a trash can, bloodstained hands as you ushered a victim away from the unsub, the ringing in your ears after an SUV blew up near you. When you joined the BAU you hadn’t known that every day you looked into the eyes of those possessed by evil, you would lose a part of your soul trying to save each and every person you saw.

But the team had it’s pros. A group of people you mostly called family, good pay, paid sick leave, mostly free flights, a badass title, and introduction to some very fine specimens (read: Spencer Walter Reid).

Speaking of Spencer, you were thinking of the conversation you both had. ‘I don’t hate you. I never have’. You snorted and lit another cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs until familiar white spots danced in your vision.

“Y/n.”

You looked up. Spencer stood near you, hands fidgeting. You could see his eyes avoiding yours and suddenly you felt like laughing. After all of this time thinking one of the hottest people you’d ever met hated you, he was standing- nervous- in front of you. “Yeah?”

Spencer sat beside you. “Didn’t know you smoked,” he tried, looking towards the rising sun.

“You refused to make comversation with me for about a month when I started,” you said lowly. When Spencer sighed beside you, you added “I don’t normally. Just when… things happen.”

Spencer nodded. “Oh.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you exhaled. You offered the cigarette to Spencer, raising an eyebrow when he accepted.

“I want to talk to you,” Soencer said finally, snuffing out the cigarette.

You lit another one. “So talk.”

“Well, I… I’m sorry.”

When Spencer didn’t say anything for another few seconds, you turned to him. “Is that all?”

Spencer dropped his head into his hands. “Look, I knew I was keeping you at arm’s length. I thought… I thought keeping you away would make sure that I didn’t…” Spencer sighed.

“Reid, I need tou to really spell it out for me. I can’t keep dancing around your riddles,” you said, facing the sun.

“I love you, y/n. I thought that if I didn’t talk to you, let these feelings grow… Maybe I could harbor my attraction to you.” 

You felt your heart skip in your chest.  “You didn’t consider telling me this? What if I felt the same?”

Spencer looked at you, a confused look in his eyes. “You didn’t like me like that and I couldn’t force you to love me too. You’re way too good for me anyway.”

“I do,” you reply, nodding. “And I’m not too good for you, Spencer. If anything, you should find better than me.”

Prolonged eye contact and silence fell over the both of you.

“Ask me now, Spencer. Make up for lost time.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Spencer lips at your request. “Do you like me like I like you, y/n?”

You nodded, mirroring Spencer’s smile. “I do like you the way you like me, Spencer.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Spencer asked immediately, eyes dropping to your lips.

You closed the distance between the two of you, hand sliding up the nape of Spencer’s neck to tangle in his curls. Spencer’s lips were skilled, leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

“So, about that dream I had earlier,” you started.

A sly smirk replaced the smile on Spencer’s face. “I knew what you were dreaming about, I just couldn’t stand listen to you knowing how weird it would be for me to face you at work the next morning.”

You felt your face warm up at Spencer’s words. “Oh. Well. Sorry for waking you up, then.”

Spencer just shrugged. “I’m not- you sound very nice. I guess I will admit the fact that I told you about talking about your dreams was completely false. I just wanted to pry.”

You shook your head with laughter, the sun peeking up even further in the sky.

[a-lexia11]

Career Day

Alexia Putellas x reader

Warning:none

Words:Around 2.5k

Note: Thank you so much to @chai-berries for the idea🫶🫶This is for you. Also,this is part of the “meeting in Barcelona” universe.

The classroom was buzzing with excitement as today was Career Day. For weeks, my fourth graders had been counting down the days until the special guests would arrive.

They were thrilled to meet professionals from different fields, but there was one guest they were particularly eager to see—Alexia.

The thought of Alexia sharing her experiences with the kids made my heart swell with pride and anticipation.

After all, it wasn’t every day that a football superstar visited our school, and I wanted everything to be perfect.

I was sitting on my chair as Alba, walked into the room. Her usual mischievous grin was firmly in place, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“¿Estás listo para hoy?” (Are you ready for today?) she teased, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Creo que si” (I think so) I replied, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. “He estado esperando esto con ansias, pero todavía estoy un poco nervioso. Quiero que todo salga bien” (I’ve been looking forward to it, but I’m still a bit nervous. I want everything to go smoothly.)

Alba chuckled, setting down a stack of papers on her desk. “No te preocupes, Y/N. Va a ser genial. Los niños se van a volver locos cuando vean a Alexia. ¡Han estado hablando de eso toda la semana!” (Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s going to be great. The kids are going to lose their minds when they see Alexia. They’ve been buzzing about it all week!)

“Lo sé” (I know) I said with a nod. “Solo espero que Alexia también lo disfrute. Sé que tiene mucho trabajo con el fútbol” (I just hope Alexia enjoys it too. I know she’s got a lot on her plate with football)

Alba waved a hand dismissively. “Le encantará. Confía en mí, inspirar a los niños es una de sus cosas favoritas. Y seamos realistas: tenerla aquí hará que hoy sea inolvidable para ellos” (She’ll love it. Trust me, inspiring kids is one of her favorite things. And let’s be real—having her here is going to make today unforgettable for them)

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the start of the school day.

The kids began to trickle into the classroom, their energy palpable. They were practically bouncing with excitement, chattering about the different professionals they were going to meet.

As they settled into their seats, I could see the anticipation shining in their eyes—especially in the girls who played football and idolized Alexia.

When it was finally time for the presentations, I led the kids to the assembly hall, where a variety of professionals were waiting.

There was a policeman in his crisp uniform, a firefighter in full gear, a veterinarian who had brought along a couple of adorable puppies, and a marine biologist with a table full of fascinating seashells.

The students eagerly gathered around each presenter, soaking in the knowledge and asking endless questions.

But despite the excitement surrounding the other professionals, I knew who they were all really waiting for.

And when the time came for Alexia to make her entrance, the anticipation in the room was electric. Standing by the door, I felt my heart race with both pride and nerves.

Then I saw her—walking down the hallway with that effortless grace she had, turning heads without even trying.

She was dressed casually yet stylishly, in her Barcelona jersey and jeans, and her presence alone was enough to command attention.

As she reached me, I greeted her with a warm hug, the familiar scent of her perfume instantly calming my nerves.

“Hey, you,” I whispered, smiling up at her. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

Alexia’s eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she returned my hug. “No me lo perdería por nada del mundo. He estado esperando esto con ansias; he escuchado tanto sobre estos niños de ti y de Alba” (I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ve been looking forward to this—I’ve heard so much about these kids from you and Alba)

As we walked together to the front of the room, the kids’ excitement reached a fever pitch.

The chatter turned into a chorus of squeals and whispers, and I could see the girls who played football practically bouncing with joy.

“Escuchen, todos” (Listen, everyone) I began, addressing the class with a smile, “esta es Alexia Putellas, la capitana del FC Barcelona y de la selección española. Démosle una calurosa bienvenida” (this is Alexia Putellas, the captain of FC Barcelona and the Spanish national team. Let’s give her a warm welcome!)

The applause and cheers that followed were deafening, and I saw Alexia’s cheeks flush with a mix of pleasure and shyness as she waved to the kids.

Her smile radiated warmth, and I could tell she was genuinely happy to be there.

“Gracias por una bienvenida tan calurosa.”(Thank you for such a warm welcome) Alexia said, her voice effortlessly carrying over the noise. “Estoy muy emocionada de estar aquí y hablarles sobre lo que es ser futbolista profesional” (I’m really excited to be here and talk to you about what it’s like to be a professional footballer.)

As Alexia began her presentation, I watched the kids’ faces light up with fascination.

She spoke about her journey from being a young girl who loved kicking a ball around to becoming one of the top footballers in the world.

Her stories were filled with passion, perseverance, and moments of triumph and challenge. The kids were completely captivated.

After Alexia’s talk, it was time for questions, and a sea of eager hands shot up. I couldn’t help but grin at their enthusiasm.

Sofia, one of the most energetic girls in the class, was the first to ask, “¿Cuál es la parte más difícil de ser futbolista?” (What’s the hardest part about being a footballer?)

Alexia paused thoughtfully before answering. “Diría que la parte más difícil es lidiar con las lesiones y los contratiempos. Es difícil cuando no puedes jugar, y puede ser frustrante. Pero con trabajo duro, determinación y el apoyo de tu equipo, puedes superar esos desafíos”(I’d say the hardest part is dealing with injuries and setbacks. It’s tough when you can’t play, and it can be frustrating. But with hard work, determination, and the support of your team, you can overcome those challenges.)

Pablo, a thoughtful and curious boy, asked, “¿Cuál es la mejor parte de ganar un gran partido?”(What’s the best part about winning a big game?)

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she replied, “La mejor parte es celebrar con mis compañeros de equipo. No hay nada como esa sensación de logro y alegría que compartimos todos juntos. Hace que todo el trabajo duro valga la pena” (The best part is celebrating with my teammates. There’s nothing like that feeling of accomplishment and joy that we all share together. It makes all the hard work worth it.)

Then Lena, one of the cheekier students, piped up with a grin. “La próxima vez que marques un gol, ¿puedes hacer una voltereta?” (Next time you score a goal, can you do a backflip?)

I couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Alexia attempting a backflip. She chuckled too, shaking her head. “¿Una voltereta? No creo que pueda hacer eso, ahora soy demasiado vieja, como un dinosaurio” (A backflip? I don’t think I can do that, I’m too old now,like a dinosaur)

The kids burst into laughter, and it was clear that Alexia was thoroughly enjoying herself.

As the questions continued, some of the girls couldn’t contain their excitement any longer and rushed forward to give Alexia a hug.

She knelt down to their level, hugging them back with genuine affection, and the sight melted my heart. It was clear that she was more than just a football star to them—she was a role model, someone they looked up to and admired deeply.

One of the boys, clearly awestruck by Alexia’s presence, suddenly blurted out, “Espera, ¿eres pariente de la señorita Alba? ¡Te pareces a ella y tienen el mismo apellido” (Wait—are you related to Miss Alba? You look like sisters and you have the same family name!)

Alexia and I both smile gently, and Alba, who was standing nearby, couldn’t resist chiming in. “Tienes buen ojo, niño. ¡Somos hermanas! Pero creo que yo soy más bonita” (You’ve got good eyes, kid. We are sisters! But I think I’m prettier)

The students giggled at Alba’s playful comment, and Alexia rolled her eyes affectionately. “Sí, sí, sigue diciéndote eso, Alba” (Yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Alba)

When it was time for Alexia to show off her medals, the excitement in the room reached new heights.

She carefully pulled out her Champions League medal and her World Cup medal, holding them up for the students to see.

“Esto” (This) Alexia said, pointing to the Champions League medal, “Es de cuando ganamos la Champions League. Fue una experiencia inolvidableis (from when we won the Champions League. It was an unforgettable experience)

The kids’ eyes widened with awe as they examined the medals up close.

There were gasps of amazement and excited whispers as they passed the medals around, handling them as if they were the most precious treasures in the world.

“Esto” (This) Alexia continued, holding up the World Cup medal, “es de cuando ganamos the World Cup. Requirió mucho trabajo duro y dedicación llegar hasta aquí, pero valió la pena cada momento.(is from winning the World Cup. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to get here, but it was worth every moment)

One of the girls, Beatriz, looked up at Alexia with wide eyes and asked, “¿Crees que algún día podríamos ganar uno de estos?”(Do you think we could win one of these someday?)

Alexia smiled down at her, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. “Absolutamente. Si trabajas duro, te mantienes dedicado y crees en ti mismo, puedes lograr cualquier cosa que te propongas. No siempre será fácil, pero te lo prometo: valdrá la pena.”(Absolutely. If you work hard, stay dedicated, and believe in yourself, you can achieve anything you set your mind to. It won’t always be easy, but I promise you—it will be worth it.)

The girls who played football seemed especially inspired by her words. Some of them even asked for tips on improving their game, and Alexia was more than happy to give them advice.

“Enfócate en tu técnica, practica regularmente y, lo más importante, disfruta del juego y juega con el corazón.” (Focus on your technique, practice regularly, and most importantly—enjoy the game and most importantly play with your heart) she said, her words leaving a lasting impression on the kids.

After Alexia’s presentation, the kids eagerly lined up for autographs, pictures and hugs.

The girls were especially thrilled, their faces glowing with admiration as Alexia signed their papers, shirts, and even a couple of footballs they had brought along.

As the last few students trickled out of the hall, I caught Alexia’s eye and smiled. She made her way over to me, and I could see the satisfaction and happiness in her expression.

“That was incredible” she said softly, slipping her hand into mine as we stood in the now-empty hall. “Eran tan amables, y su entusiasmo... me recordó por qué empecé a jugar al fútbol en primer lugar.” (They were so sweet, and their enthusiasm… it reminded me of why I started playing football in the first place.)

“You were amazing,” I replied, squeezing her hand gently. “You really connected with them. I think they’ll be talking about this day for a long time. And those hugs? So cute.”

Alexia chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, those hugs were pretty great. I don’t usually get swarmed by tiny fans like that.” She paused, her voice turning more tender. “Pero me alegra haber compartido esto contigo. Verte con tus alumnos, lo mucho que te adoran... me hizo quererte aún más” (But I’m glad I got to share this with you.Seeing you with your students, how much they adore you… it made me love you even more.)

My heart fluttered at her words, and I leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’m so happy you were here. It means the world to me—and to them.”

Just then, Alba appeared, her ever-present grin in place. “Bueno, bueno, bueno, miren a ustedes dos siendo tan adorables. Espero que no te hayas robado todo mi protagonismo, Alexia. ¿Todavía soy la profesora favorita aquí, verdad?” (Well, well, well, look at you two being all adorable. I hope you didn’t steal all my thunder, Alexia. I’m still the favorite teacher here, right?)

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Lo deseas, Alba. Pero tengo que decir que haces un gran trabajo entreteniendo a los niños, realmente les gustas” (You wish, Alba. But I have to say, you do a great job at entertaining the kids,they really like you)

Alba shrugged modestly. “¿Qué puedo decir? Soy una natural. Pero, sinceramente, ver lo emocionados que estaban por conocer a Alexia... valió la pena. Incluso si eso significa que ya no soy la Putellas más genial por aquí” (What can I say? I’m a natural. But honestly, seeing how excited they were to meet Alexia… it was worth it. Even if it means I’m not the coolest Putellas around here anymore.)

Alexia smirked, nudging her sister with her elbow. “No te preocupes, Alba. Siempre serás la profesora más genial de esta escuela, después de Y/N, por supuesto. Bueno, al menos hasta que decida retirarme del fútbol y dedicarme a la enseñanza” (Don’t worry, Alba. You’ll always be the coolest teacher in this school after Y/N obviously. Well,at least until I decide to retire from football and take up teaching.)

The idea of Alexia as a teacher made me laugh, and Alba joined in. “Pagará buen dinero por ver eso” (I’d pay good money to see that) Alba teased. “Imagina verte intentando enseñar a un aula llena de alumnos de 10 años” (Imagine you trying to teach a classroom full of ten years-old)

“Creo que me las arreglaría” (I think I’d manage) Alexia replied, a playful glint in her eye. “He enfrentado oponentes más difíciles, después de todo” (I’ve faced tougher opponents, after all)

We all shared a laugh, and the camaraderie between us felt effortless and warm, like we were a little family.

It was moments like these that made me grateful for the relationships we’d built—both with each other and with the kids.

As the day wound down and the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Alexia and I walked hand in hand toward the parking lot.

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves.

“I really enjoyed today” Alexia said, her voice filled with warmth. “It was so nice to see the kids so excited and engaged. And being here with you and Alba… it made it even more special.”

I smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her. “I’m so glad you could be here. It means a lot to me, and I know it meant the world to those kids. They’ll remember this day forever.”

We reached her car, and Alexia pulled me into a gentle hug, her arms wrapping around me in a comforting embrace.

I leaned into her, savoring the warmth of her embrace.

We lingered in each other’s arms for a few more moments. Eventually, Alexia pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on my waist.

“I have to head to training soon” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “But I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “And I’ll be thinking about you. Go be amazing, as always”

She grinned, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before reluctantly stepping back. “¿Te veré esta noche?” (I’ll see you tonight?)

“Of course” I replied, my heart already longing for her return.

As I watched her drive away, my heart felt full—full of love, gratitude, and contentment. The day had been everything I had hoped for and more.

FIN

[latin5mamii]

Camera - Jude Bellingham

WARNINGS: fluff yet a bit smut

SUMMARY: You two really needed a camera that holds all of your memories, even the intimate ones...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: late night thoughts pt.2 😉

“For my favorite photographer,” Jude announced as he breezed into your bedroom, a large parcel cradled in his hands.

You looked up from where you were lounging on the bed, a book splayed open on your chest. The soft afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a dreamy halo over everything in the room. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you set the book aside and propped yourself up.

“What’s this?” you asked, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

Jude’s grin was both mischievous and affectionate as he settled on the bed beside you. His hand found its way to your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. “Just open it. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You could barely contain your excitement as you tore off the wrapping paper. There, nestled inside the box, was a beautifully crafted, leather-bound camera. Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked at Jude with wide, delighted eyes.

“Jude, it’s amazing!” you exclaimed, your heart fluttering with joy.

His smile deepened, and he leaned in, his eyes locked onto yours. “I thought of you as soon as I saw it.”

Moved by his thoughtfulness, you leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, your heart swelling with affection. “We have to try it out right now,” you said, pulling back with a playful sparkle in your eyes.

With a laugh, you both began to experiment with funny poses. The room soon filled with peals of laughter as you struck goofy poses and made exaggerated faces. Jude mimicked you with his own brand of silliness, and the camera clicked away, capturing every joyous moment.

But as the minutes passed, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The playful energy began to morph into something deeper, more intense. The smiles lingered a bit longer, the touches became more charged with a burgeoning desire.

Jude’s fingers brushed against your arm, the touch electrifying and intimate. He leaned closer, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a thrill through you. “I think it’s time we tried something a little different,” he said, his gaze filled with a promise of unspoken things.

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine. You nodded, your eyes meeting his with an unspoken agreement. “I’m all for it.”

Jude’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you close. His breath was warm and tantalizing against the back of your neck, and his fingers traced the curve of your shoulder before sliding slowly down your arm. The touch was feather-light, sending a cascade of tingles through your skin.

With a playful tilt of your head, you looked at him, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Let’s make this special.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. The camera clicked, capturing the tender moment before his lips descended onto yours. The kiss was deep and passionate, a merging of warmth and urgency that made your heart race and your breath catch.

The camera continued to click, each photo freezing the fervent intimacy between you. His hands roamed over your body with a mix of tenderness and fervor, and the kisses grew more intense, more desperate. The camera captured every moment: his fingers tangled in your hair, your bodies pressed close, the way his lips moved against yours with increasing intensity.

In one photograph, Jude’s hands were wrapped around your waist, his lips barely brushing yours as he gazed at you with an expression of pure devotion. In another, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his eyes shining with adoration as he held you close.

You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss. His hands traveled up your back, guiding you gently to lie down on the bed. The camera flashed again, preserving the tender moment as you both lay side by side, your faces flushed with passion and joy.

Jude’s voice was a soft whisper as he cupped your face,

“These photos are going to be my favorite memories,” he said, his voice thick and low.

You smiled, your heart overflowing with love as you kissed him deeply, you murmured against his lips,

 “Mine too”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 15

Danny was sitting on his bed, legs crossed with his blue bear set on his lap. He was stroking a thumb over it’s nose, gaze absently out the window.

Jason leaned against the door frame. “Danny?”

The blue eyes snapped to Jason. They were a different color from Bruce’s, just slightly. There was that damning green ring around the outside of the iris, just like Jason’s own, but the green bled less into the blue for Danny.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Danny said with a small smile and a duck of his head. He moved his hand from the bear’s nose to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess it’s just been a long day.”

“Makes sense, lot of busyness all day,” Jason agreed. It really had been. From meeting Steph with breakfast to games after when Tim joined them at lunch, new phone in hand, and then with Duke there briefly for dinner, fully suited up, the safe house had been full all day. Jason had worried about it being too much, but Danny seemed happy, if slightly quiet. But then again, Danny was almost always quiet. “Do you need me to stay? Nightwing will be here in about two hours to change over with B.B., but I’ll stay if you need me to.”

“No, you should go,” Danny insisted. “I’ll just be asleep, I figure I’m going to crash after today.”

Jason smiled a little. It was nice to have Danny sound more like a kid lately. “I bet. Call me if you need, O will make sure that the number on the phone patches into my comms.”

“What if you’re busy?”

“Then O will talk to you herself or pass you to another Bat. There’s always one of us around for you.”

Danny’s smile looked a little wobbly as he nodded, and Jason gave into ruffling the kid’s hair before he left to go make a much needed appearance at Crime Alley.

-

“You’re healing well,” Nigthwing said as he smoothed down the last bandage.

“Yeah,” Danny said softly, ruffling the towel one more time through his hair so that he didn’t have to look at Nightwing.

It was still a marvel to be touched gently like that.

They all showed such care with him and his wounds. It made everything all the more obvious to Danny. Nightwing and the others were interested to see if he was healing so that he could be well. His par— they had been interested for far different reasons.

He hadn’t seen it when he was a kid with scrapped knees from falling off his bike.

Now he couldn’t unsee it.

He was always an experiment to them, wasn’t he? He was never their kid. If he had been their kid they wouldn’t have been able to cut into— to take— to do… to do….

“Danny?”

Danny sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and tried to blink away the memories. “What?”

“There you are.” Nightwing’s smile was sad as he brushed back a lock of Danny’s hair. Hadn’t Nightwing just been wearing gloves?

Danny ran his fingers over his bear, grounding himself in the soft texture. His bear. He was on the couch wrapped in a blanket holding his bear.

He had just been in the bathroom.

Danny blinked slowly. “I, um…”

“It’s okay. You just went away for a bit. I moved you when you stopped answering me. It’s been about seven minutes. Nothing’s happened.”

“Oh.”

Hadn’t he been getting better? He hadn’t thought… Why did he have to think about them?

“Hey, Danny, it’s okay, you don’t have to cry,” Nightwing said, “or, you know, cry if you need to! That’s okay too. Just, we’re not going to let anyone hurt you here.”

Danny sniffled and turned his head to rub his face against the blanket. Nightwing shouldn’t promise that— he couldn’t promise that. They didn’t know what Danny was. They didn’t know who was after him. It was unfair to ask that of them— to make them feel like they had to promise him that.

“I’m okay,” Danny said with a watery smile.

He wasn’t.

“How about a movie?” Nightwing suggested and Danny was grateful for the out.

He tried not to cling as they settled into the couch to watch through the Jurassic Park movies.

“The newest one is stupid in all the right ways,” Nightwing said cheerfully. He must have known that Danny wanted to cling, because he tucked Danny close after everything was set up.

Danny watched the movie without seeing it.

They thought they had to take care of him.

They couldn’t promise that. They didn’t even have the whole story. Sure, Hood had died too, but he was so different than Danny in that. Hood had come back. Hood was alive. Danny didn’t count as alive anymore, not even in this form.

Did Danny ever really count as alive?

He was just an experiment.

A test.

He was never supposed to have ever been.

Danny let his eyes close. What movie were they on now? Did it matter?

Did any of it matter?

He wasn’t supposed to have ever been.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever been, but there he was. There he was, dead and alive. A child and a monster. And he knew, worst of all, because of what he was they would never let him go. Danny knew that, it’s why he had run to Gotham. He thought that maybe if he could just get the money to leave the country somehow… Bruce Wayne had to be able to do that. Even if— even though there’s no way that Wayne would care about Danny, he had hoped maybe he could get the help. A one off to be out of Bruce Wayne’s life forever and not a media scandal. He just needed to…

The gentle fingers carding through his hair started to chase away Danny’s thoughts.

But the Bats had found him.

The Bats had found him and the Bats cared.

Danny wanted that. Danny wanted that so desperately that it hurt him. He’d been just taking advantage of it too, hadn’t he? Because he wanted it he’d been taking it without them knowing what he was. And now they were acting like they wanted him to stay.

But they didn’t know.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat, feeling like it was choking him.

He had run to Gotham. He had run to Gotham but that wouldn’t stop them. They would find him here. They would find him and because of him they would find Hood. They would find Hood and take him too. And then they would find Robin. They would find all these wonderful, kind people that had been touched by death in all these ways and they would take them. They would take them and cut them apart and—

Danny bit his lip so that he couldn’t make a sound.

They would find him if he made a sound.

“It’s okay Danny, just rest.”

Danny’s eyes snapped open. The afternoon light from the window in his room was playing across his face. His heart thudded in his chest. He was afraid.

But he was afraid with a sense of certainty that he hadn’t had before.

-

“Go get Danny for lunch,” Jason said as he flipped the sandwich on the pan with the same intense focus that he did everything these days.

Dick had to fight back a smile. Getting to be around his little wing so much over the past weeks had been great. Sure, Jason was still mulish and snapped easily, but Dick had also gotten to see so much more of who Jason was behind that defense. Dick loved getting to see that. Giving into the urge to smile, Dick gave a little salute and swung himself off the counter.

Maybe if they were lucky all this could continue after they got Danny settled. It had to, right? Jason seemed pretty attached to Danny, not that Dick could talk, so Jason was sure to come over to see their new brother. Dick would still have time with Jason.

Dick gave a soft knock on Danny’s door before opening it a crack. If Danny was still asleep, Dick didn’t want to startle him.

Except Danny wasn’t still asleep.

Danny wasn’t even in the room.

The bed was fixed and Danny’s tablet and phone sat neatly in the middle.

“He just in the bathroom,” Dick tried to assure himself even as his instincts screamed that was wrong. Silently, silently purely out of habit, Dick approached the bed.

The tablet’s screen was on.

Dick picked it up with hands that only stayed steady from years of training.

No.

No, no, no—

“Jason!”

-

Thank you. Thank you for saving me and caring for me and wanting me. Thank you. You all mean so much to me and that’s why I have to go. I have to go before they find me and then find you all too. I can’t let them find you. I’ll never forget you. Don’t look for me. -Danny

--- AN: *puts on my halo* I'm innocent?

This prob could use a few more editing passes but I am still sick and tired so taaaada (no concrit needed, it will get edited before ao3). Hopefully you all still enjoyed(?) it! Stay delightful, darlings.

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Side Effects | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Your science loving nerd of a roommate Jisung has been acting strange but that's not what has fear coursing through your body. It's the feeling that someone's watching you when you're supposedly all alone, the objects moving seemingly on their own and the phantom intimate touches that has you on edge.

Are you going crazy or is there something or someone in the apartment targeting you?

•Pairings: science geek Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, mentions of hauntings & hallucinations, lies and secrets, slight non-con?, somnophilia, unprotected & protected p n v, pervy Jisung, masturbation (m + f not mutual), cliffhanger, Chan makes an appearance a few times

an: if I missed something and you feel it should be included in the content warning please kindly let me know in the comments ♡

Part two will include more scenes with Bang Chan but Jisung is still included. Part three, which will be the last part, will be Jisung.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

⚠️tiny warning before continuing: there are moments where reader is unaware of what's happening due to being sleep. these moments may appear as non consensual which is the reasoning for the slight non-con warning. I tried make it known that any sexual activity that happens is welcomed. I hope I was able to convey that. Just a heads up lol. Enjoy♡

Your roommate, Jisung, is a nerd. You mean that in the most affectionate way, of course, but it’s true. When he's not helping the chemistry professor at the local college in his free time, he's experimenting in the apartment or researching different chemicals and compounds. His room is a chaotic mess of beakers, test tubes, and textbooks, everything he needs to create something from science. In the two years of living here, It’s never bothered you. Just as long as he and his equally nerdy friend, Chan, don’t blow the place up or set anything on fire. In fact, you’ve grown quite used to the faint, yet sharp scent of various chemicals wafting through the apartment over the years.

Today, the scent of acetone and metal permeates the small apartment. Jisung and Chan have been working on something for months, the two of them locked away in Jisung's cluttered bedroom. When you ask about it, they just shake their heads with a smirk and say, “Top secret, y/n.” You roll your eyes but smile, understanding their need for secrecy. You respect their space and their experiments, no matter how strange it makes them act, always offering to clean their beakers and test tubes whenever you're washing dishes. The dynamic between you and Jisung is what makes the roommate setup work.

Jisung couldn't believe his luck. Not only was his roommate hot and open minded but a gamer who's always down for a Naruto or Bleach marathon. He was so grateful that you weren't like the stuck up pretty girls he dealt with in highschool. Jisung really felt comfortable with you, he could be himself without fear of feeling like his IQ was lower than what it actually was. So whenever he and Chan were close to a scientific breakthrough and you never asked too many questions it only caused his “little infatuation” as he calls it, to grow.

One evening, you find yourself in the kitchen, hands submerged in soapy water as you scrub away at the dishes. The random playlist you chose earlier plays softly in the background and the faint scent of lemon from the dish soap mixes with the clean, crisp scent of freshly laundered towels, filling the kitchen air. You’re lost in thought, your mind drifting as you methodically clean the plates, forks, and glasses, when you feel a sudden, inexplicable chill. It’s as if a cold breeze has brushed against the nape of your neck but the windows are closed and the AC isn't on. You shiver involuntarily and glance around, half expecting to see Jisung standing there. But the kitchen is empty.

You shake your head, chalking it up to just a random chill and turn back to the sink. The sensation lingers, though—a prickling awareness like you're not alone. For ten minutes it felt like someone was there in the kitchen with you but each time you looked around, no one would be there. You could hear faint tinkering and music from Jisung's room and you knew he was working with Chan. The cold is back as you finish up the last of the dishes and when you turn around again, you nearly drop the plate in your hands. Jisung stands there, silent and unexpected. Brown eyes behind round framed glasses shine at you and he gives you an awkward smile.

"Where did you come from?" you ask, your voice higher than usual.

"Sorry," he says with a shrug. "Didn’t mean to scare you, just needed a drink."

You laugh nervously, feeling your rapidly beating heart slow down. "Jeez Ji, you should wear a bell or something." You let out a breathy chuckle.

He shrugs again and laughs quietly before grabbing a drink from the fridge and disappearing back into his room without another word. The interaction leaves you confused and slightly unsettled. Well, that was strange… stranger than usual. There’s something off but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shouldn't really be surprised by strange behavior when it comes to Jisung but he's never acted that strange before.

Over the next few days, strange happenings become more frequent. Objects begin to move on their own; a cup slides across the kitchen counter that you barely just noticed and a book falls from a shelf behind you while you watched tv. You find yourself jumping at shadows and sounds and now you're convinced that the apartment is haunted. Of course you haven't said anything about it, Jisung would more than likely think you're crazy.

One evening, you’re gaming in the living room. Headphones on, fully engrossed in the game, when your can of soda just sort of levitates a few inches off the coffee table before gently coming back down. The controller slips from your hands as a cold sensation moves across your cheek. You jump back and scream, calling out for Jisung, but it’s Chan who saunters into the room. Curly hair wild, lab coat askew, and glasses perched on his nose.

"Jisung’s in the bathroom," he says, noticing your wide eyes and pale face. "What’s up y/n?"

"The can... it moved on its own." You stammer.

Chan chuckles, shaking his head. "Must be a temperature change or something. Science can explain a lot of weird stuff, y/n."

“Channie, it fucking levitated! Can science explain that?!” you say in a half shout, half whisper looking up at him.

“Mate, chill out.” He gives you a sympathetic smile and walks over to you to pat your head. “Science can most definitely explain that. I can show you how if you want? I'll just need a few supplies for the demonstration.” His eyes light up and he smiles wide at you, showing off his dimples.

“That’s… okay, Chan. You don't need to do that.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice isn't missed and he chuckles, patting you again before leaving the room.

You’re not convinced, but you nod to yourself and try to focus on the game, occasionally glancing back at the can. The feeling of being watched never truly leaves, though. Every day you start to notice more—subtle things, like the way Jisung’s eyes linger on you a fraction too long, or the odd satisfaction in his smile when you mention the hauntings after you caved and told him. Jisung's watchful eyes make you feel like you're part of one of his experiments, like some sort of test subject. He's always been a bit weird at times, but this is a whole different level of weird for him. You shrug it off as stress or lack of sleep since he and Chan have the tendency to overwork.

The night is warm tonight, the air heavy with the lingering heat of the summer day. You sit in the black metal wicker chair on the balcony, a book loosely cradled in your hands, listening to the sounds of traffic and crickets below. The warm summer breeze drifts across your skin and you adjust your tank top and shorts that have already begun sticking to your skin from the heat. With a sigh, you look down at the worn paperback book in your hands and try to focus on the words.

You’re half-aware of your surroundings: the breeze, the faint smell of an impending rainstorm, the sounds of the city. It’s peaceful, lulling you to sleep. Your body relaxes, and the book slips from your fingers, resting across your lap. You're in a state somewhere between consciousness and slumber when you feel it.

It's subtle at first, like a feather brushing against your skin, but it soon shifts to the feeling of hands. The touch is hot and insistent, groping your breast under the thin fabric of your tank top. Panic surges in your chest and you force your eyes open, heart pounding in fear. You sit up, the book slipping from your lap and landing with a soft thud on the concrete floor.

You glance around, trying to make sense of what you just felt, but the balcony is empty. You glance down and your breath catches in your throat. Your left breast is exposed, the strap pulled aside in a way that couldn't have happened by accident. A cool breeze brushes against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the phantom heat of the touch you just felt. You pull your tank top back in place with trembling hands, looking everywhere but seeing nothing. Scrambling to your feet, you slide open the glass door and step inside, locking it behind you.

With your heart still thundering in your chest, you make your way to Jisung's room. When you knock on his door, you hear shuffling, the sound barely audible over the whir of some machine inside. He opens it a little and you’re momentarily stunned by the sight of him—disheveled hair, sweaty brow, black-framed glasses askew and wearing an oversized black hoodie.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"I think…” you sigh and brace yourself. "The apartment is definitely haunted." you blurt out.

Jisung looks shifty, eyes darting to the side but he quickly recovers and a skeptical smirk plays on his lips. "Haunted? Really, y/n?"

"I’m serious," you insist. "I think something just touched me. Out on the balcony." You point a finger in the direction of the glass door.

Jisung’s brows knit together and he steps out of his room, closing the door behind him, giving you his full attention. "Like... someone was out there?" He messes up his hair even more, running his fingers through the dark strands.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "No, there was no one there when I opened my eyes but it felt hands on me Ji. I don’t know how to explain it."

His eyes darken with a mixture of skepticism and concern. "So you think the place is haunted and that a ghost touched you?" You nod, your heart still pounding in your chest.

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you, if only slightly. "Sounds like you were in REM sleep. Dreams tend to feel real and vivid in that cycle." He gives you a sympathetic smile and adds, "Maybe it’s just your imagination."

You narrow your eyes at him. "I’m not imagining this, Ji." You say starting to feel frustrated.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, y/n. I’ll look into it, alright?"

Reluctantly, you nod and walk to your room with more questions than answers. As days pass, the strange activity continues. You catch glimpses of movement from the corner of your eye, feel phantom touches on your skin, and hear whispers that have no source. You're starting to feel like you're going crazy.

Jisung’s behavior becomes stranger. He spends even more time locked away, emerging only to grab food or ask you cryptic questions about your day. You start to suspect he knows more than he’s letting on but every time you ask, he deflects with a nervous laugh and spouts some scientific theory. Even Chan is acting odd, though he's usually the more grounded one among them. Not by much—Chan's a weird one too, but it’s part of his charm. He’s an adorkable dork.

The two men are lounging on the couch tonight, eyes glued to the anime playing on the screen, while you're in the kitchen preparing popcorn for the three of you. The scent of melted butter fills the air as you pour it over the freshly popped kernels.

Suddenly, Chan's voice cuts through the ambient tv noise. “You did what?!”

Jisung quickly shushes him, their heads whipping around to you as you turn to look at them, each wearing an identical, innocent grin. Weirdos, you think, shaking your head, tossing the popcorn.

You missed Jisung's whispered confession to Chan about his antics on the balcony. Chan already knew about the mysteriously moving objects and the true cause behind them. It's because he was partially involved. He and Jisung had created a liquid that granted invisibility to the drinker. Their top secret experiment they were working on for damn bear a year was almost near perfect. After successful trials on mushrooms and lab rats “borrowed” from Jisung's chem professor, they decided to take it a step further. Jisung volunteered as their human test subject, and you became the unwitting participant in their trails.

Chan never imagined Jisung would push the boundaries so far though, especially by groping you. But Jisung couldn't resist. Initially, his plan was to give you a harmless scare, maybe brush against your arm. But when he saw you asleep, your tank top revealing the side of your breast, his self-control vanished. He was overwhelmed by a primal urge and it was like his hands were moving of their own accord. He gently pulled your left breast free and gave it a firm squeeze. His mouth hovered inches from your skin, ready to kiss the mound of flesh when you woke with a start.

“Bro, I don't know if you should be taking so many doses. We're not sure if there's any side effects.” Chan cautions, his voice barely audible as you rejoin them in the living room.

Jisung stays silent, unable to respond to his partner as you settle on the floor in front of them, handing over the bowl of hot popcorn. Chan’s concerns echo in Jisung’s mind. He knows Chan is right, but the thrill of invisibility is intoxicating. He revels in the mischief, in watching you unaware of his presence. The moments when you think you're alone, wearing nothing but that oversized Tokyo Ghoul T-shirt and panties, are his favorite.

Every time you reach for a cup or a plate, the hem of your T-shirt lifts just enough to expose a tantalizing glimpse of your ass. When you bend over, the thin material of your thong outlines your pussy, making him feel certifiably insane. Sometimes he would intentionally knock something over just to watch you pick it up. The sight of you bending would make him painfully hard and he'd have to slip away to his room, unable to resist the urge to jerk off to the image that was now burned into his mind.

Jisung’s addiction to the elixir grows with each use. He tells himself it's all in the name of science, to see how much is needed for long-lasting effects but deep down, he knows it's because he can’t get enough of watching you unseen. He needs to be closer to you.

One night, Jisung decides to take things further. Pretending to go out to help the professor at the college, he sneaks back into the apartment quietly, slipping into your room while you’re in the shower. The steam fills the air of your bathroom, the hot water cascading down your body. As you stand under the spray with your back to him and eyes closed rinsing your hair, you remain oblivious to his presence. The glass door to the shower is slightly ajar, giving him a perfect view of your wet body. His breath hitches as he frees his hard cock from his sweats. It’s as if he has no control over his impulses; the need to cum clouds his thinking or maybe it's the elixir that's got him feeling this way? He rubs the palm of his hand over the head of his cock, coating it with precum. When you bend over to shave your legs, he almost cums at the sight of your bare pussy.

Jisung’s eyes are glued to the space between your thighs and the way the water bounces off your skin as the steam rising around you. He bites his lip to keep quiet, thinking, “So beautiful.” His hand moves faster, and he's bucking up into his closed fist until he can’t hold back any longer. With a muffled groan, he cums hard, splattering onto your ass and mixing with the water, washing away unnoticed by you. If only the elixir made his semen invisible too, he'd probably always cover you in the warm, wet fluid like this. He knows he would.

Watching you becomes a nightly ritual for Jisung. He drinks the pale teal liquid that is the invisibility elixir and sneaks into your room. He watches you during intimate moments, like when you fuck yourself with your fingers before bed. He hears you moan his name occasionally when you bring yourself to multiple orgasms and it only adds fuel to the fire. He never thought you found him attractive.

To him, you’re way out of his league. But watching you climax to the thought of him is a dream come true. His obsession grows, and he becomes bolder, unable to resist the urge to touch you while you sleep. Each night when you fall asleep, he lightly runs his middle finger up and down your cunt over your pajamas while he fucks his hand. The soft moans you let out in your sleep never fails to make him cum.

One particularly hot night, you decide to sleep naked on top of your covers. It's impossible to be comfortable when your pajamas stick to your overheated body. You’ve just had an orgasm and you lay there, sated and relaxed waiting for sleep to take over (though you really should get up to pee). Jisung watches you from the corner of your room, his cock painfully hard in his hand. He's lost track of how long he's actually been in here watching you. He waits until you're deep asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily, before he moves closer to your bed.

He can’t resist the sight of you, legs spread apart, pussy glistening. He begins to stroke his cock standing at the foot of your bed but it’s not enough. Before he knows it, he’s slipping out of his sweats. The bed dips as he crawls onto it but you don’t stir. He pushes your legs apart more, his breath catching as he sees just how wet you still are. Slowly he rubs the head of his cock against your folds, shuddering and the sensation. He tells himself “Just the tip,” but when he pushes into your opening, your pussy clenches around him and he can’t stop. He pushes deeper and deeper, burying himself inside you, freezing when you make a soft moan.

He waits, barely breathing before he starts to move slowly. You feel so warm and tight around him. He knows he should stop, "This is so wrong!" his inner thoughts yell at him but it feels too good.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so wet.” he whispers in the dark, feeling bolder.

Slowly he moves but soon each thrust becomes more desperate than the last. He has to stop himself from slamming into you so that he doesn't wake you.

“Slowly… slowly… ah! Oh shit.” he mumbles quietly. “Is this what you were imagining when you came moaning my name, y/n? Hm? Were you imagining my cock pumping in and out of this tight cunt? Oh fuuuck, mm.”

His legs soon begin to shake as he watches the way his cock disappears inside your dripping cunt and slips out again, leaving his length covered in your creaminess. It's too much—the sight, the soft sighs you're making in your sleep. He pulls out just in time, pumping once into his hand before he's cumming onto his palm, careful not to leave any evidence behind.

He takes one last look at you, still sleeping, before he tiptoes out of your room and back into his. Had you woken up, you would've caught sight of Jisung cumming into his hand above you. The elixir wore off just as his orgasm hit him. He lays in his bed still feeling the lingering sensation of you squeezing his cock with your pussy and it takes a lot to not down more of the pastel teal liquid that sits on his desk and go back into your room to fuck you again.

“How can I make it last longer? There's got to be a way to lengthen the invisibility time frame without taking too many doses,” he mumbles to himself, looking up at the ceiling and lazily stroking his cock. He cums hard minutes later, moaning loudly into his pillow, replaying the sound of you moaning his name in his head and falls asleep peacefully with a smile on his face.

The next morning, you’re up early, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. A blank sleepy expression on your face as you stare off into space. Jisung joins you, wearing his best poker face.

"Hey, y/n," he says, trying to sound casual. "Sleep well?"

You nod, your eyes, however, tell a different story. "I had a weird dream. It was so vivid... so real. It felt a lot more real than the one I had on the balcony."

Jisung’s stomach churns with guilt but he forces a smile after pouring his own cup of coffee. "Dreams can be like that sometimes. Maybe it’s stress or something."

"Maybe," you murmur, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. "It’s just... I woke up sore." Your face heats with a blush thinking about your activities before you fell asleep last night. Maybe you were too rough? But then why do you feel like you were stretched out way beyond your two fingers?

He swallows hard, trying to keep his expression neutral and ignore the growing sensation of his cock as he sits down across from you. "Sometimes dreams can manifest physically. Your mind is very powerful, you know."

You nod slowly, still feeling doubtful. You know that something strange is going on around the apartment but it's just your testimonies with no hard evidence.. Soon the conversation shifts to more mundane topics and Jisung couldn't be more relieved but the tension remains between you. Throughout the day, you barely see him. Even when Chan came by, Jisung didn't come out of his room. You got the weirdest feeling that he was avoiding you.

“Maybe he's just tired of hearing me complain about my delusions,” you wondered to yourself stirring a cup of chamomile tea.

You spent the time you weren't working convincing yourself that you were indeed experiencing some stress-induced hallucinations. Who were you to doubt someone as smart as Jisung and Chan? A week off of work would do you some good—maybe you'll give yourself a spa day, binge on junk food, and catch up on some anime.

Meanwhile, Jisung and Chan worked hours and hours trying to study their creation further. Jisung's secret of what he did last night stays that way. A secret... No way could he tell Chan—he'd probably stop the experiment, maybe destroy all their hard work and Jisung couldn't, wouldn't let that happen. He needed it now, needed you now. He wasn't just obsessed with the science and having created something that scientists have tried to create for centuries; now he was obsessed with the feeling of invisibility, obsessed with the power it gave him and obsessed with the feeling of you. He craved it all. He knew that feeling could be a side effect, as well as feeling out of control while invisible and all the reckless wrong things he did but he chose to ignore every red flag and blaring warning signs. The more he drank the elixir, the more it controlled him, possessing him with insatiable lust and desire.

That night, driven by compulsions he can't deny, Jisung slips into your room again. Once more, you're naked, lying on top of the covers and the cool air from a fan blowing over your body, makes your nipples hard. The sight takes his breath away, every inch of your body exposed to his hungry gaze again makes his mouth water. He positions himself between your legs, slipping on a condom before pushing into you. The sensation is overwhelming, and he bites down on his lip to keep from making a sound. You moan in your sleep, your hips lifting towards him, and he nearly loses it. He begins to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, watching your face for any sign of consciousness. You murmur something unintelligible but stay asleep. In and out he moves, the slow tempo is so frustrating to him but he knows he needs to be smart. You moan his name in your sleep and he flinches, startled by your voice.

"Shit..." He whispers looking down at you.

Jisung’s heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him. Your breathing changes, a soft whimper escaping your lips. He can't help but cum quickly and it's intense. He's trembling and panting, spilling into the condom that he hastily slipped on earlier with a grunt. He's still thrusting into you slowly, riding out his orgasm when you start to wake up.

The room is dark when your eyes slowly flutter open. A faint glow from the streetlights seeps through the blinds of your window and casts eerie shadows across your walls. There's a random sensation between your legs pulling you from the depths of sleep. At first, it feels like another dream, but it's all too real. Your eyes scan the darkness, heart pounding, but there's nothing—just the dark room and the soft rustle of the sheets.

The feeling of being filled, stretched in the most intimate way and the rhythmic movements should scare you, but the pleasure is too incredible. Your breath hitches and you find yourself moaning softly as your fingers instinctively trail down your body, finding your clit. You begin to rub, matching the invisible thrusts, your mind in a haze of pleasure and confusion.

Jisung is mesmerized by the sight and his own pleasure builds again as he watches you pleasure yourself. The combination of your fingers and his cock pushes you closer to the edge and he can feel your orgasm approaching, your muscles tightening around him.

"Fuck me harder." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your eyes squeeze shut and you arch your back lost in the intensity of it all.

Jisung bites down hard on his lip but obliges silently, thrusting harder, deeper and the bed creaks with the force of his movements. He's getting closer to a second orgasm and he can't hold back. His speed picks up and his fingers dig into your hips as he rails your eager warmth. Your body tenses, your back arching further off the bed as you cry out, the sound of your orgasm filling the room. He watches you, unseen but not unnoticed, every moan, every tremble fueling his own arousal. The sight of you coming apart because of him, the feel of you around him—it's too much. With a hard final thrust, he cums hard, filling the condom more that it's dangerously close to overflowing.

You collapse back onto the bed, chest heaving, eyes fluttering close. The room is silent, the only sound is your labored breathing. You sit up slowly, heart racing, looking around the room, but there's nothing like always—just shadows and silence. Even the full feeling is gone.

"Was… Was that real?" you whisper, voice trembling. "I'm losing my mind."

You slide out of bed, legs unsteady and make your way to the bathroom. The light is harsh, almost jarring after the darkness. You look at yourself in the mirror, skin flushed, eyes wide. The lingering effects of your climax make you shiver.

"If that was a dream, it was the most realistic dream of my entire life." you whisper to your reflection. "But if it wasn't... does that mean that whatever is haunting this place just fucked me?" You shake your head and turn the faucet on, splashing your face with cold water.

Jisung slips away, heart pounding, mind spinning. He knows he has to stop, that what he's doing is wrong in so many ways. But the memory of being inside you, the way your body responded to him awake—it’s past addictive. He can still feel the heat of you, the way you clenched around him and he’s not sure he can give that up. He retreats to his room, the guilt eating at him even as your climax plays over and over in his mind.

He lies awake, staring at the ceiling, knowing he’s crossing a line but unsure if he can ever come back from what he's doing. The need, the desire—it’s too powerful. He’s gone too far, and he knows it. The thought of stopping, of never feeling you again—it’s a torment he’s not sure he can endure. All he can think about is the moment he's able to be inside you again.

As the days pass, the tension between you grows. Jisung’s obsession deepens. He becomes reckless, pushing the boundaries of what he can get away with. When he asks how you're doing, you gloss over your experiences of the previous nights, only telling him that you had another strange dream. You don't tell him how you're starting to enjoy them or how feeling sore and wet the next morning is almost addicting.

You think you've gone insane but you embrace the lunacy. Each night, you feel the presence, the pressure, and you give in to it. Giving the ghostly dream specter a face, you've started imagining Jisung, which only makes the experience that much more real and pleasurable. You picture his face, his body, the way he would touch you if he knew your secret desires. It’s become a habit for you now, a way to cope with the confusing feelings. It's better than things getting messy between you two. You'd have nowhere to live if something went wrong between you and Jisung. No need jeopardizing your living arrangements and friendship.

The night is still early, and you can hear the two men in the other room tinkering with their experiments as you rest in your own room. Does the feeling only happen when you're asleep? Could you trigger it somehow? Should you try talking to it?

As you lie naked in your bed, you close your eyes and imagine Jisung. You see him in your mind, wearing nothing but his little lab coat and glasses, kneeling between your legs, looking down at you. You slip a finger past your folds and then another. Your fingers work furiously, slipping in and out. “Jisung,” you moan softly.

His heart skips a beat, for a moment he thought you were aware of him in your room.

“Jisung,” you whisper again into the darkness. “Please… please touch me.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jisung stands at the foot of your bed, invisible and now trembling with need. He hears your whispered plea and it’s like a spark to a stick of dynamite. He climbs onto the bed, his eyes devouring the sight of your naked body, so inviting, so ready. You feel the bed shift and gasp, afraid to open your eyes in fear of the feeling disappearing.

He moves between your legs, his hands tracing the curve of your thighs and you shiver at the familiar, unseen touch. You moan softly, your body responding instinctively, your hips lifting in anticipation. Jisung takes his time, savoring every moment, his cock already hard and aching.

He lets the bead of precum drip onto your pussy before he slides into you slowly, watching your face contort with pleasure as he stretches you. You gasp, your hands clutching the sheets, your back arching off the bed. So real, so intense, you moan Jisung's name again, the sound driving him wild.

“Jisung… yes, please…” you plead, your voice thick with desire.

He moves within you, his thrusts deep and steady, the bed creaking with each motion. You meet him with equal fervor, your hips rocking against his, your body desperate for more. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slick, rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh.

Jisung’s heart races, the thrill of fucking you while you moan his name, steadily pushes him to the brink. He watches your face, the way your eyes squeeze tight, the way your lips part in ecstasy and he knows he can’t stop. Not until you're cumming around him.

“Fuck, Jisung,” you cry out, your fingers digging into the mattress as your orgasm builds. “Fuck me harder.”

He does. Jisung leans into you supporting himself on one hand fucking you harder, pushing into you deeper and gripping your hip so tight it'll leave bruises but you don't notice. You meet his movements eagerly, your body arching, welcoming him in. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the creak of the bed and the slap of skin against skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on. “Yes, Jisung, just like that.” you pant, your voice breathy and desperate.

He's driving into you with a force that makes the bed rock and hit the wall. Your tight, wet heat and your voice spurring him on. He can feel your body tensing, can tell you’re about to cum.

“Cum for me, y/n.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Cum on my cock.”

You cry out, shocked at hearing a voice and your body is convulsing as you reach your orgasm. He pulls out just in time, spilling his seed onto your stomach, watching as it glistens in the dim light. He didn't mean for this to happen; he was only in your room as a test. Chan, back in Jisung's room, sits with a stopwatch timing just how long the test run will last. He was only meant to watch you. Jisung didn't have a condom this time but he can't seem to care about the consequences of leaving his cum behind.

You lie there, panting, a satisfied smile on your lips. “Jisung…” you murmur one last time before rolling over, drifting off to sleep.

Jisung watches you for a moment longer, a mix of pride and guilt churning inside him before he goes and rejoins Chan, who heard everything. He's questioned by his best friend as soon as he walks into the room. Jisung has no choice but to confess and with a deep breath he tells him everything. The watching, the touching… the sex. By the time he's done, Chan is staring at him in disbelief.

"Dude, that's... I don't even know what to say," Chan finally says. "You know that's messed up, right?"

"I know," Jisung says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know… but I can't stop. You don't understand. There's this compulsion, this undeniable need when I drink it. It's… it's like my deepest desires control me and I can't do anything to fight back. Please, help me."

Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, I'll help you. We're in this together. I'll be the one drinking it now, and I'll stay here to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't. We need to be more careful from now on.”

Jisung nods and sighs with relief and for the next few weeks, they work tirelessly, refining the elixir. They study Chan's reactions, starting from the lowest dosage, slowly upping it little by little. Jisung tries to keep his distance from you, but it's hard. Every time he sees you, his desire flares up and he has to fight the urge to use the elixir again. He misses being inside you.

It's been weeks since you felt the ghostly presence and you miss it but you figured since it went away, then it really must've been due to stress and the days off from work truly helped. You didn't think you'd ever feel the strange sensation of being fucked by something you couldn't see again.

How incredibly wrong you are....

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