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meganegatari · 4 months ago

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THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought.

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

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fashion-runways · 4 months ago

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hiii new pinned post again because the last one was outdated, there are links to the previous ones in that one as well. unfortunately there are no real updates re: my dad's wrongful imprisonment. at this point, they might be waiting until the statutes of limitations happen and it's over, i don't know. he has a therapist who's kind of expensive but we have to pay for and he has to go weekly because of all the trauma he has left from being in jail and from losing his job/not being able to find a new one because of this. his health got worse in there, too, so there are a lot of different doctors he has to go to, medications, etc. he's doing better every day, though, but that takes a lot of money of course.

i used to have a redbubble account that helped me get afloat alongside this blog, but it got suspended without notice and never got reinstated no matter how many things i've tried, so... that's another source of income that we lost. i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month there, now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly, that's a huge difference. argentina's economy was always bad but it has been an absolute disaster since the current president got elected. prices rise literally on a weekly basis for everything from basic groceries to public transportation, power, water, phone bills, etc. my laptop's keyboard broke at some point and i almost had to buy a new one with money i literally didn't have, just going into negative numbers, but i managed to find a guy who replaced it for as cheap as he could. it was still expensive, but it was better than having to buy a new laptop entirely. would love to get a stable job, but that's always been impossible in this country, even more so lately. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

on top of that my dog passed from cancer a few weeks ago, that was really expensive for us too, meds and appointments and special foods and everything that we could do to keep her happy until it was her time to go, and she was. i also started therapy around the time she was diagnosed (thank god) but my therapist had to rise her rates because of the economy mess i already mentioned, so... yeah. everything is exhausting and everything is expensive, and this is literally my only source of income. it's also the thing that i love doing the most and the thing that keeps me sane in all of this mess, so hey, never leaving. in fact, if anything ever happens to this website, you can always find me under fashion_runways on twitter or probably anywhere else. some of you guys mentioned not seeing my posts lately too, so if you can/want to, you can turn notifications on!

anyway yeah, all that to say i love this blog, i love fashion, and i love showing you guys new cool things and giving you guys ideas for art, or writing, or your own style, or just interesting stuff to look at. so if you can donate any money, that would help me more than you think. even a single dollar can change what i can do with my day sometimes, i swear. as usual, my kofi link: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. i love you 💖

#text posts #pinned post

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ilovecatfr · 18 days ago

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HOW TO CHANNEL SOMEONE

{or channel memories from your dr/people/higher self}

Channeling is connecting with someone’s energy or consciousness, allowing you to receive memories, messages, or answers.

There's a lot of ways to channel someone but I'm going to go through couple of them;

Methods: meditation and visualization/automatic writing/channeling through dreams/using a necklace or a pendulum

{a little tip}

Relax and trust the process. Often, memories and answers will come to you naturally when you're not actively trying to force them. Pay attention to sudden thoughts, feelings, or deja vu moments—they might be glimpses from your DR. Be patient.

1. MEDITATION AND VISUALIZATION

Sit or lie down in a quiet space.

Close your eyes and visualize any place you want.

Picture the person from your DR you want to connect with. Imagine their presence vividly, including their voice, appearance, and energy. Or if you want to channel your higher self you can simple ask.

In your mind or outloud, ask them to share a memory or whatever you want.

2. AUTOMATIC WRITING

Grab a pen and notebook or you can use your phone/anything you can write on.

Quiet your mind and think of the person you want to channel.

Set the intention: “I invite [Name] to share their memories with me/answer my questions”

Begin writing whatever comes to mind, without overthinking.

3. CHANNELING THROUGH DREAMS

Before bed, set the intention to meet the person in your dreams and ask for whatever you want.

Visualize the person clearly as you fall asleep, focusing on their energy and presence. Or ask a question for specific person/higher self.

{tip; set the intention to remember the dream vividly or keep something you can write it in as soon as you wake up}

4. CHANNELING WITH NECKLACE OR PENDULUM

{remember: necklace must have some kind of pendant on it}

Cleanse the tool: Run it under water, pass it through incense smoke, or visualize white light surrounding it {OPTIONAL}

Sit in a quiet space and relax. Set your intention: Hold the necklace or pendulum and say, “I call [Name] to connect with me”

Determined the movements example: back and fourth=yes. Side to side=no. Circle= maybe.

{you can write it on a paper and put it under it as your channel}

Begin channeling, and if you want to make sure it your person ask questions they will know to answer to.

You can even put a keyboard under it and have it move towards the letters as it makes a sentence.

At the end you can say goodbye.

LITTLE ADD: HOW I PERSONALLY CHANNEL AND CONNECT TO PEOPLE FROM MY DR EVERYDAY

{tips; you can make sure the pendant on your necklace is heavy enough/be in a room with no wind/ put your elbows on a hard surface as you do this to keep your hand steady/trust that connection will guide your hand.}

SOME AFFIRMATIONS YOU CAN SAY:

SAFETY

1. My boundaries are strong, and only safe connections are allowed in my space.

2. The universe (God or whoever you believe in) supports and protects me at all times.

3. Only energies that align with my highest good can reach me.

4. I am grounded, centered, and completely safe.

CHANNELLING

1. I easily connect with [Name] from and receive.

2. I am open to communication with [Name], and it flows effortlessly.

3. I am fully aligned with [Name] and those within it.

4. Memories from my DR flow to me naturally and effortlessly.

Focus on the people you want; their energy, your relationship, scenarios... and basically relax and set the intention or ask them to be present in your cr by sending your messages/signs or whatever you want. I keep this connection open and they are welcomed every day to send me messages.

A little warning:

Don't let this take over your shifting journey; remember shifting and experiencing it first hand is much better then just having memories or talking to people from your dr. Yes this can be great motivation but don't let it take over.

This is not to scare you but to warn you and remind you of what can you really have:)

#reality shifting #shifters #channelling #permashifting #shifting community #scripting #shifting advice #shifting motivation #shifting reality #shiftblr #shifting blog #shifting realities #shifting consciousness #shifting diary #shifting to hogwarts #shifting antis dni #shifting mindset #shifting activities #shifting affirmations

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hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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Ok I know your reqs are closed and I don't ask you to write a fic but can we just take a moment and think if woozi's partner dressed up as a very slutty musa from winx club and when I say slutty I mean underboob showing top and booty showing skirt with the slit and red boots. And maybe that's his birthday gift. I have a hunch that woozi has secretly seen all seasons of winx club including the movie franchise. And then you show up as MUSA???? FAIRY OF MUSIC????? WHEN HE IS THE GOD OF MUSIC????? ON HIS BIRTHDAY???? ahem. Open that for discussion as you may

dressing as winx—musa for jihoon's birthday

a/n: anon, this discussion was so good that i made this drabble, and a small fic inspired on it! i hope you like it!

WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering + oral (f. receiving)

check the story here

it’s a dumb idea. like, so dumb. you almost talked yourself out of it five times before even ordering the boots. because, like…woozi?? the man whos 24/7 hunched over a keyboard like it personally owes him royalties. not the kinda guy you’d peg as a secret fan of sparkly-ass fairy shows. but then you saw it—the tiniest slip of a reference in one of his texts. some offhand comment about “fighting the darkness with the power of music” or some shit. and you were like no fucking way.

so obviously, you had to test the waters. subtle shit at first. humming the theme song when you’re in his studio. saying “magic winx!” when you stretch, just to see if he flinches. and he does. he fucking flinches. it’s like catching a cat with its paw in the cookie jar. he’s so bad at hiding it, too, gets all awkward and mumbly, trying to pass it off like you’re imagining things.

so naturally, the only logical next step is to dress up like musa for his birthday.

“what the fuck,” woozi says when you walk into his studio. and by say, you mean choke out, because dude’s sitting there with his jaw hanging open like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

you do a little twirl because why not? the skirt’s barely there, all slitted up the sides, and the boots are so red they look illegal. the top it’s doing the most. cropped high enough to flash underboob every time you so much as blink. you catch his gaze dipping, like he’s trying to decide where to look without combusting on the spot.

“happy birthday!” you sing, grinning like the menace you are. “do you like it?”

“you—you’re—” he stammers, eyes darting between you and the door like he’s expecting someone to bust in and arrest him for horny crimes. “why the hell are you dressed like that?”

you plop down onto his lap because subtlety’s for cowards. “like who? musa? fairy of music? your soulmate?”

“oh my god.” he presses his hands to his face, but it’s useless; the tips of his ears are already neon red. “you’re insane.”

“insane for you,” you say, leaning in close enough to watch his eyes widen. you trail a finger down the side of his neck, all slow and teasing. “c’mon, jihoon. you can admit it. you’ve seen every episode, haven’t you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, which is the worst lie you’ve ever heard. the way his voice cracks halfway through? chef’s fucking kiss.

“oh yeah? then why’d you flinch when i said ‘magic winx’ last week?”

“...fuck you.”

“thought you’d never ask.”

you don’t give him a chance to retort, crashing your lips onto his. he freezes for, like, half a second, then he’s all in, hands gripping your hips like you’ll disappear if he lets go. the kiss is messy, teeth and tongue, and you can feel him hardening under your skirt—if you can even call that a skirt.

“you’re the worst!” he groans against your lips, but the way he’s pulling you closer says otherwise.

“and you’re a winx club stan,” you shoot back, grinding down on him just to hear the breath hitch in his throat.

“shut up,” he mutters, before flipping you onto the couch. you’re so fucked.

you’re grinning, smug and shameless, sprawled out on his studio couch like a gift he’s just unwrapped. he doesn’t know whether he wants to worship you or ruin you.

now you realize that, maybe you underestimated just how feral this man could get.

he’s still dressed, but barely tho; his shirt’s pulled halfway up his chest, showing off just enough skin to make you the feral one instead. you hook your legs around his waist, tugging him down until you’re pressed flush against each other. he’s hard—so fucking hard—and you can feel it, the thick length of him pressing against your core through the flimsy fabric of your skirt.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “you show up dressed like that, looking like—like that—”

“like your dream girl?” you tease, running your hands through his hair. it’s soft, messy from all his pacing earlier, and you tug just enough to make him groan. “admit it, jihoon. you’ve been thinking about this.”

“youre my dream girl, babe,” he hisses, grinding against you like he’s losing the battle with himself.

“show me,” you challenge, lifting your hips to meet his, you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. “c’mon, birthday boy. don’t you wanna blow out your candle?”

he pauses, pulling back just enough to give you that look—the one that says you’re about to regret being a little shit. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“oh, we’re doing this?” you say, breathless but still grinning. “kinky.”

“shut up,” he growls. his lips find yours again, rougher this time, his teeth catching on your bottom lip as he kisses you. his free hand slides down your side, slipping under your top to cup your breast, and the feel of his calloused fingers against your skin makes you arch into him.

you gasp, as he tugs your top up and over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him. he pauses for a second, just staring at you—at the way your chest rises and falls, the way your skirt’s ridden up to reveal more skin than it covers. you can see the way his throat bobs, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

“you’re perfect,” he says, and it’s so soft, so genuine, it makes your chest tighten.

“yeah?” you say, your voice shaky. “then stop staring and fuck me.”

he’s on you in a second, lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, to your chest. his tongue flicks over your nipple, and you let out a sound you didn’t even know you could make, your hands twisting he sucks, bites, licks, like he’s determined to leave his mark.

his hand slips between your legs, pushing aside your skirt and finding the damp patch on your panties. “fuck,” he groans, pressing his thumb against you through the fabric. “you’re so wet already.”

“wonder why,” you manage to say, though it comes out more like a whimper as he slides your panties down and off. his fingers are on you immediately, spreading you open, and itmakes you feel like you’re melting.

he teases you, running his fingers up and down your slit, barely grazing your clit just to watch you squirm. “you talk a big game,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “but look at you now. all needy.”

“ngh—babe please!” you say, even though you’re very much proving his point. “stop teasing.”

he smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “patience, fairy of music.”

he licks stripe up your slit before circling your clit. your hips jerk, but he holds you down, his hands gripping your thighs as he works you over that’s honestly unfair. it’s too much and you’re a mess, moaning his name and tugging at his hair.

“jihoon!” you gasp, your voice breaking as he slides a finger inside you, curling it just right.

he sucks your clit harder, adding another finger and sucking on your clit until you’re seeing stars. your orgasm hits you, taking you by surprise, your whole body tensing as you cry out, and he doesn’t stop until you’re begging him to.

when he finally pulls back, he looks so fucking smug. “happy birthday to me,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“get your pants off.”

he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue, standing up and shucking his jeans and boxers in record time. your mouth goes dry at the sight of the cock that you loved and craved, the flush on his cheeks only makes him hotter.

“what’s the matter?” he says, climbing back over you. “cat got your tongue?”

you shush him, pulling him down for another kiss.

“as you wish, fairy girl.” and then he’s pushing into you, filling you inch by inch until you’re gasping at the stretch. you love the way he feels inside you, the way he groans against your neck as he bottoms out.

“you okay?” he asks, knowing the time you need to adjust.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your legs around him to pull him closer. “move.”

you meet him thrust for thrust, your nails raking down his back as he picks up the pace. “fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his breath hot against your ear. “so fucking perfect.”

“i’m close.” so so fucking close—shit!

“me too,” he says, his thrusts turning frantic as he chases his orgasm. “come for me, baby.”

you do, cumming around him with a cry of his name, he looks at you. your head thrown back, your pussy desperately clamping around him—pushes him over the edge. he comes whiny groan, his hips stuttering as he spills into you.

he collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, and you can feel his heart pounding against yours. “best birthday ever, thank you babe.” he mumbles, his voice muffled but sincere.

you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “told you you’d like it.”

“you’re never living this down,” he says, lifting his head to look at you. “next time, i’m dressing as bloom.”

“deal,” you say, grinning, and pull him down for another kiss.

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syneilesis · 1 month ago

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[fic] Impact Factor

Impact Factor

Love and Deepspace | Zayne (Li Shen) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 4k words | ao3 link

god, i'm so lovesick. what have you done to me? You tell Zayne that you're co-authoring a research paper. He finds himself wanting and waiting to read it.

A/N: For @seraphiism 's 2024 writing event. I chose Lovesick by Laufey. I know. Zayne? Lovesick? Lmao I don't know if I pulled it off, but I have to write for Zayne at least once.

I gave this fic a single, cursory proofread. Any mistake is still my fault. Divider by @/saradika

“By the way, a professor of mine in college reached out to me last week and asked me if I was interested in co-authoring an article with her on the phenomenology of vocation of the people working in Hunters Association.”

The clacking of the keyboard is crisp and loud in the silverlined office, accompanied by the low hum of the airconditioner. Zayne's attention remains on the computer, updating your status condition. He makes a brief noise to indicate that he's listening, and when he takes his gaze away from the desktop he finds you watching him with a faint grin on your face.

“Do you want me to guess your reply?”

That faint grin grows wide and whole.

“What do you think?”

Zayne leans back and rolls his chair a little farther, reaching out to turn on the printer. The machine whirls to life, chatters.

“You accepted the offer, of course.” He returns to his laptop and clicks on the print icon. “You don't have the heart to refuse your professor.”

“Dr. Zayne, you know me so well.”

Something in the way you said it compels him to turn to you again. Your expression hasn't changed, but the fall of your hair frames your slightly narrowed eyes that sparkle under the bright fluorescent light, like rare midday stars. It staggers the beats of Zayne's heart for two seconds, seizes his throat, and in that sliver of a moment Zayne forgets to breathe.

“Maybe it's because you're transparent,” he says, after retrieving the prescription from the printer. He hands you the paper, and surprise stretches your features. He clarifies: “Supplements. Undoubtedly you will need it when you begin your research.”

“Nothing less from my doctor.” My. The word is malleable around your mouth. And then: “I'm transparent? Is that a bad thing?”

“It's not a flaw.” He signs the healthcare forms you passed onto him. “But neither is it a virtue.”

“Hmm. Then, I guess I'll watch myself.”

His head jerks at your response, and Zayne has something to say to that—something like your not needing to be conscious of how open you are—but then your watch beeps and you apologize for the sudden departure.

Alone in his office, Zayne sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.

▼

That exchange, brief yet odd, lingers in Zayne's mind, like a stone at the base of his brain, next to the stem and cerebellum. He can feel its weight, its matter, solid and bothersome that at one point Greyson stops and asks him, “Are you okay, Dr. Zayne? You seem to be distracted today.”

A flash of memory; the word transparent, your answer. Were it not for the emergency mission, he would have hastened to add that transparency is closely associated with sincerity—and that is a virtue. He imagines a version of you as secretive as a glacier, as closed-off as a fortress, and the dissonance it invites rings discordant in the history between you—you who have always reached out to him first.

His hands itch for the phone that's secluded in one of his drawers, away from distraction, from memory. Zayne is, after all, duty first, the rest a distant second.

“It's nothing,” he tells Greyson. “I'm fine.”

“Maybe it's time for a vacation? You've been busy—busier than usual—lately.”

“I'll take a vacation at the end of the year. Right now, you're needed in the meeting room for a briefing.”

When Greyson clears the area, Zayne turns and sees Yvonne near the entrance of the lobby, studying him, her face arranged in a way that invites him to defend himself for some reason. But he resists the irrational urge.

He meets her scrutiny with a long and stoic gaze, and she shakes her head, wordless, then continues on with her work.

Left in the hallway, Zayne sighs and goes back to his office.

▼

“Dr. Zayne!”

Shapes of different colors coalesce into your reflection on the glass that displays the myriad cakes Zayne's been deliberating upon for the last fifteen minutes. The figure looms larger and larger, until it sidles up next to him and he straightens up, turning to his side.

“What a coincidence,” you continue with a glancing smile, hand on your chin as you survey the available pastries for purchase. “Are you buying desserts too?”

Earlier, Akso Hospital had a rare moment of slowness that allowed its personnel to indulge in a breather, which afforded Zayne to clock out on time. As a treat—and he will never admit this to anyone—he's stopped by the bakeshop on the way home, and to his surprise, here you are as well.

To your question he can only give a noncommittal sound; then to the cashier he points at the sea salt caramel vanilla slice that he's wanted to try for a while now. Both you and the cashier let out an intrigued Oh! before the purchase is processed at the register.

“Sea salt caramel vanilla,” you say with an evaluatory seriousness, ��good choice.”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose.

“By the way, I've started on the research project. Been doing some preliminary reading since I don't want to disappoint my former professor. So far I'm doing well—the supplements are a great help!”

The supplements. He had an inkling that, as you are wont to do with every mission, you were rushing into this project with all your mind and body, tunnel-visioned, only the end goal visible in your sights. This unfortunately excludes concerns regarding your health, and Zayne is correct: all nighters and skipped meals, both of which erode the state of a person's health. When you are focused on something, that something takes the highest priority, and he can't always be with you all the time to remind you to take a break, or eat healthy food, or drink water. Which is why: supplements. They're not preventative, but at least they mitigate.

And it seems you're telling the truth: no tightness in your eyes and tautness in the shape of your mouth. In this case—in the case of your aspiration to conceal—you have not changed—or at least attempted to hold yourself back. Something in his chest loosens, smooths the tenseness out of his muscles that Zayne hasn't realized is there.

This is something to ponder, but not at the moment.

“I don't have to remind you that supplements are not substitutes for healthy food and proper sleep, do I?”

“Of course not! Even I know that.” But then your expression turns sheepish. “In practice, that's a little ...”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose again.

“But don't worry too much about me, Dr. Zayne! I'm taking care of myself just fine!”

“That doesn't instill much confidence.”

“How about this, then?” And you face him fully, a ready smile brimming with its own confidence and assurance, as radiant as an aurora. “If something happens, you will be the first person I'll turn to.”

At that Zayne pauses. The easy trust you bring between the both of you warms his neck, the back of it, climbing up, up, up to the tips of his ears and to his cheeks. He moves on to the cashier, his back on you.

“Try not to let that 'something' happen, but I know you're too stubborn to listen.”

A chuckle, and then: “I can't make any promises, but I'll try.”

This time, Zayne turns back.

“'Try' implies effort, so I am expecting effort.”

You snap a salute, grinning. “Got it, Doc!”

▼

The day after that, Zayne begins to read up on the subject of phenomenology.

▼

It won't be a couple of weeks until Zayne sees you again—but this time it's under the harsh hospital lights and the din of frantic footsteps and rolling wheels, the mixed scents of blood and antiseptic stinging his nose. A Wanderer surge disrupted the southern part of Linkon, and of the hunters dispatched you had been one of them.

Zayne glides around the moving bodies, steps never faltering until he finds you tucked in a corner, cradling your broken arm.

When his shadow falls upon your involuted frame, you lift your head and a rueful grin greets him. Your glass-sheen gaze doesn't escape his scrutiny.

He's wearing his white coat, and both of his hands retreat into its pockets, where he closes them into tight fists. If Zayne tilts his head a little more to the right, he can see a lengthy gash that lines along your temple and into your scalp, covered by your blood-crusted hair. He is painfully aware that this is part and parcel of your profession, the risk that endangers a hunter during a mission. A part of him is thankful that today it is only a broken arm and a couple of wounds. It could have been much worse, and Zayne refuses to imagine a scenario where you come into the hospital drained of vitality. A frustrated sigh threatens to spill out of him, but he endures, and just pointedly shoots you a disappointed look.

“So this is all the effort that you mentioned just amounted to.”

“To be fair I was doing well for a couple of hours until I had to rescue a civilian trapped in a damaged building.”

“That is commendable.” And he means it. But—“Follow that nurse with the brown clipboard. He's in charge of injuries like yours. Can you walk that far?”

Your uninjured hand braces against the wall and you pull yourself up, the motion not quite fluid but not a slow stagger either. Zayne would have assisted you, but it seems that you can do it on your own.

“It's my arm that's broken, not my legs.” A wincing smile, and you start to make your way forward. “I know that you have to take care of other people, Dr. Zayne, but thanks for checking up on me.”

Behind him, a nurse calls his name, a signal to go back to his work. There are other patients who need his attention more than you do, and overall you seem fine, still put together. A broken arm can heal over time, given proper medical care. And Zayne knows, intimately, that Akso does not lack for anything.

Still. It's not entirely on purpose, but Zayne calls your name.

“I—” he begins, as you slow down to wait for whatever he's going to say. His throat struggles, constricting and opening in subconscious reflex. “I'd still rather not worry about you like this.”

In and around the space between you and him, the hospital remains astir—shadows and silhouettes slipping in and out of Zayne's sight—until they give way to the blossoming smile on your face, eclipsing everything from the back to the fore, a pinpoint mark on the map.

Later, even as he tends to his patients, your smile persists in Zayne's mind, an afterimage that refuses to disappear behind his eyelids.

▼

Exactly one week after that incident, Zayne receives a bouquet of jasmines and a box of banana bread. Attached to it is a pristine white card with a line written: Don't forget to take care of yourself too!

The card stays in his breast pocket well beyond his working hours, right next to his beating heart.

▼

Days pass, weeks, months, and Zayne finds himself browsing through phenomenology journals during his break in the hopes of seeing your name in one of them. He knows that you'll tell him once it's published, but there's a part of him that clamors for the first touch of knowledge, the letters that make up your name woven in the glowing screen of his tablet.

At the same time, Greyson and Yvonne have bitten into their suspicions—whatever they are, Zayne refuses to ask—and swallowed the succulence as if it's a juicy truth. Often he sees Greyson glancing at him with a shadow of a smile, a quick sleight of hand that when Zayne fully faces him his expression is already ironed out and professional. Yvonne is no better: all glimmering eyes and knowing grins and incessant questions about his mood. Once, he asked the reason for the barrage of questions and Yvonne ignored the frost in his voice and tittered, telling him that sometimes in life, they have to combat the monotony with exciting things.

It worries him somewhat that you and Yvonne and even Greyson have been getting along quite well for a time now.

But your name still doesn't appear, and it doesn't seem to be appearing in the foreseeable future. Still Zayne searches, his fingers already making a habit of typing your name in the bar, his heart beating for a yes.

▼

At some point, he's asked about your progress.

“It's been going well,” you answer. “Professor made some comments about the part in my results and discussion, so I'm going to revise that. I think we can submit it by next month if we maintain the pace.”

After a thoughtful pause, you rest your arms on his desk, cushion your chin on them, and angle him a sly look.

“Are you offering to proofread my work, Dr. Zayne?”

“I may need a box of red pens for that.”

That jolts a laugh out of you, and you recover by sending a mock pout his way.

“I’ll have you know that I was a diligent writer in college! I won in essay writing competitions!”

“Is that so? Then I suppose your first foray in academic publishing will be a successful ‘accepted with minor revisions’ reply from the editor.”

“Of course! Oh, fine, fine. I won’t ask you to proofread the manuscript. You can just wait until it’s published.”

A small, genuine smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

▼

Eventually, he receives a text that says, We finally submitted the article! Now we just have to wait 🫣

He excuses himself from a cluster of medical professionals talking about the latest breakthroughs in oncology and parks himself beside the long table of drinks. He texts back: Watch out for Reviewer #2. They’re always the culprit.

It takes a full ten minutes before you reply, and during that period of anticipation four individuals have come up to him and attempted to pull him into a conversation about his accomplishments and recent research—one even braving to entice him into applying to another hospital.

Zayne shakes them off as politely as he can (and to that one poacher he gives a cold and resolute no). When his phone beeps, he turns away and redirects his undivided attention to the screen. All your latest message contains is a single salute emoji and the single-word sentence Gotcha! A laugh startles out of him, which Yvonne—having developed an eagle eye for Zayne in the recent weeks—notices and she scurries over to Greyson, bowing their heads in hushed whispers, glancing at him every now and then.

He's realized what they'd been talking about whenever he's in their vicinity, and he's tempted to refute their assumptions and retaliate accordingly. But the stone-weight in his mind had transformed into a persistent itch that does not choose when it strikes. In most cases it's merely annoying, but on rare occasions it is, frankly, merciless. A good-night text echoes in his dreams, and Zayne wakes with a thick sweetness coating the inside of his mouth. A fleeting touch from your worried hand burns the skin of his arm, the heat seeping into the layers until it reaches the subcutaneous tissue, where it spreads all over his body through the veins. He has to evade your glare to hide the ruddiness of his cheeks. Capitulation is the only option he had to choose in the end, and the idea of surrendering to this melts away the reflexive inquiry of when and how and why—a trait he had to hone as a doctor and a researcher.

What else is left when all the signs are pointing to this one immutable conclusion?

▼

On the day and hour your article is published Zayne is in the middle of a delicate surgery that takes him five hours and two hysterical family members of the patient—even with Evol involved. He emerges from the operating room with good news and exhausted-yet-relieved colleagues, Greyson's smile emerging from the doors the first indicator of a successful operation.

The patient's mother clings to him in tearful gratitude.

He orients the family on the next steps, and as he signs the healthcare forms he discovers a new slice of wound on the back of his hand, thin but lengthy. He has long since accepted that his hands, his arms, will forever be spattered with scars, and if that's the price he has to pay for saving lives, then it's of no consequence to him.

(Once, he had caught your gaze glued to his hands, so he snapped his fingers, startling you into looking at his face.

“What was that for?” you demanded.

“You're not paying attention.”

“I was just—” you bit your lip, torn. A pause, then: “Did they hurt—each one of them?”

He glanced down and studied each scar. Too many, you'd probably think. But not once had they bothered him.

“I never even noticed them in the first place, so no.”

“Okay.” Your eyes were crystal glass and the deep breath you took was stuttering in all its inelegance. “Okay.”)

A sliver of a break provides him the opportunity to sink into reprieve, and his hand gropes for his phone on the desk, peeking out under a sheaf of documents that he has to fill out later.

A cursory look at the screen, and then Zayne is leaping for the computer.

The research article you and your professor had written is kept behind a paywall. Zayne spares a moment to shut his eyes in irritation. He's fortunate that his university library account is still active, so he utilizes that privilege to gain access to the article’s full version, made available by the university’s database.

When the file loads, he syncs it to his tablet, after which he leans back on the chair and settles to read. He can locate which parts you had a hand in writing, and the parts where your style comes out. It isn't his field, but he has read enough to venture that the insights of this paper are valuable. Unwittingly, a proud smile surfaces on his lips.

At the end of the article, in the acknowledgment section, something is curiously written:

The co-author is grateful for the moral and medical support of Akso Hospital's Dr. Zayne. Dr. Zayne, would you like to have dinner with me? As a date. Yes, I'm asking you out.

Zayne’s mind blanks out and the itch returns, scrabbling at the walls of his skull, loud and frenetic and overwhelming all his senses. His entire body warms and the sensation of crawling needles prickle at his skin. Everything is white noise; his heart threatens to jump out of his ribcage. He gets the ridiculous thought that he can't perform a surgery on himself.

The next thing he knows, he's driving his car at the same time dialing your number. The car speakers amplify the ringing tone once his phone is attached to the dashboard. Both his hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

When the call connects, he opens with “What would you do if I hadn't read your article?”

He can practically hear the smile in your voice; it resounds around the car interior. “That's not an option, Dr. Zayne. You would have definitely read the article.”

Laughter bubbles up inside him; he tamps it down. “Confident now, are we?”

“Of course!” A pause; a shuffle of feet. You must be heading to another room. “I hear car engine, where are you now?”

“On the way to your apartment.”

“Wait, don't—go to this restaurant instead. I'll text you the address. I have it all reserved and ready.”

He blinks once, twice, surprise slackening the muscles on his face. “... You haven't even heard my answer yet.”

“You can tell me at the restaurant. And then we'll celebrate with excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.”

“You sound so certain about receiving a positive response.”

“I'm optimistic that way, Dr. Zayne. I'm heading out now—I'll see you in a bit!”

You hang up, and the speakers beep into silence. Two seconds later Zayne presses the hazard switch. The car slows down and then comes to a halt on the side of the road. Other vehicles zoom past him. Without the need to drive, Zayne can finally give in to the urge to exhale aloud and let out a brief yet astounded laugh, forehead pressing against the leather smoothness of the steering wheel.

You've always been transparent. But Zayne has made the crucial mistake of neglecting the fact that you are also clever. If this were a competition, you've already won.

▼

You're already at the restaurant when he arrives, sat on the corner facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, the shifting lights outside dancing over your serene profile. Your elbows rest on the table, where everything is already set up except the food. A vase of red roses at the center completes the picturesque scene.

You lift your head and welcome him with a triumphant grin once he's a few steps away. And when he settles on the chair opposite you, you lean forward and stare at him expectantly.

“You could have asked like a normal person,” Zayne begins.

“I could have,” you agree, nodding, “but I like it this way. I like to get closer to you through the things you do.”

Another moment of Zayne getting caught off-center: the warmth flushing outward from the core of his body like vibrant ink on clean, clear water. He has to lower his gaze from the sheer brilliance of your certainty, the way your patience and care have allowed this moment between the two of you, something that he has never imagined culminating like this: two people sitting opposite each other, in this softly lit restaurant while the world bursts into festive lights outside it. The tender way your hand moves across the table, stopping right before the flower vase, as if affording him the liberty to arrive at a decision Zayne has already made, many, many months (years) ago, just buried under the strata of responsibilities, boundaries, and improbabilities.

Never the when, never the how, never the why. It is, only, sublimely, this.

Zayne sighs with a rueful shake of his head. “It's not yet too late—maybe I should answer by publishing my own research article.” But the hand meeting yours belies his words.

Your smile: pleased, pleasure, like the sun emerging from the winter sky.

He's too occupied with the touch of your hand and the radiance of your expression that Zayne misses the throwaway comment that tumbles past his lips:

“If we're talking about getting closer through doing the things the other does, then I suppose I should propose to you when we're in the middle of a Wanderer invasion.”

And then he realizes what he just said.

Zayne whips his head up, heart in throat, and scrambles for an excuse. “What I meant was—”

“Getting ahead of ourselves now, are we?” Your face is pure indulgence, pure bliss. Your hand squeezes his, not letting go. “Don't worry, Dr. Zayne; I'm looking forward to it.”

And that lustrous smile, sustained. Zayne relaxes and you release him to clap your hands together, delighted.

“Now then! Shall we have our dinner?”

▼

(You have, indeed, delivered in all aspects: excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.)

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shalomsexual · 2 months ago

Text

SPECIAL CALL

Prompt: In which Reader is at work but receives a 'special' call from her girlfriend.

Warnings: Phone sex, f!ingering, dirty talk

Game: Path to nowhere

A/n: This is my first time writing phone sex so please excuse the brain of my last two brain cells 🙏

Working for the Quinn company wasn't an easy task; and your position at the prestigious company certainly wasn't one to be taken lightly. As the head of the finance department, you were tasked with several tedious jobs that required your attention at all times. CEO Eirene has always expected good results to come from the financial aspect of her company because she knew you were capable and determined and a mindset like that could get you far places.

However, what you didn't expect was the receive a phone call from your girlfriend- Eleven. Eleven and you had been dating for a year and a half now. Your relationship was progressing slowly but surely, you were aware that she was a sinner but did you care? Hell to the fuck no. You practically work for a sinner so you didn't mind. You are aware of her job as a radio host and you absolutely love her program. Eleven was a daring one to say the least. She constantly makes flirtatious comments which you didn't take to heart and she was quite suggestive too. Despite dating for a while now, you both have never done the deed. Though she didn't mind, sometimes she wish you were intimate. That didn't stop the girl from fantasing about your long slender fingers, the ones she would drool over as she watched it work on a keyboard.

"Darling~" Eleven's sultry voice resounded through the ear worn microphones that was connected to your phones.

"H-hi Eleven. How are you?" As you checked the watch, you saw it was quite late and you still had some work to do so you took a short break, and talked to your girlfriend.

"You've been so busy haven't you? Hardly had the time to chat with your girlfriend but don't worry darling, I have a gift for you. Oh darling just for you~"

You nervously gulped at the so damn seductive voice, knowing its going to be more than a five minute break.

"What is the gift?"

"Oh its a special call. For my favourite listener~" the air in the room became increasingly hot so you turned on the nearby fan.

"R-really? A-are you going to sing me a song? O-or read me a story?" To say you were nervous was an understatement. Eleven let out a soft chuckle.

"Not quite. It's even better..." Silence engulfed the line before the sound of something wet was heard. It was more like a squelching sound.

"Ele-Shh... do you hear that? How wet I am for you?" She moaned softly, her velvety voice going through the phone and into your ears, tickling your brain. Your eyes widened as you immediately understood what was going on.

"Y-yeah... yeah I hear it. Oh god Eleven not now please.." Your pleas went deaf in her ears as she inserted a finger into her cunt, the soft walls enveloping her fingers.

"I wish it was your fingers. Your long slender fingers ahh~" she softly moaned, imaging it was your fingers instead of hers. "Oh y/n... I want you so bad nghhh~"

You face palmed in embarrassment, red coating your face. You felt your own arousal beginning to form. "Oh darling don't be shy... tell me what you want me to do~"

Your breaths came out in an uneven pattern. Okay maybe you enjoyed it a little right now but that doesn't mean she should continue. It's such an inappropriate- ah fuck it.

"Fuck Eleven why do you do this to me huh? You're like a needy slut. Always horny." Eleven gasped at your words, the unexpected switch in your personality made her wetter. "Add another finger love."

Without hesitation, Eleven placed the phone at an angle that would capture the elicit sounds escaping from both of her lips. She inserted another finger before slowly thrusting them in and out, slick coating her digits. "Ahh d-darling~"

"That's it. Good girl. Keep fingering yourself like that.." your praises spurred her on even more. Praising was one of her kinks. She just had to be a good girl for you; always trying her best to satisfy your needs. "Add another one baby."

"A-another one?"

"Yeah you can take it right?" Your voice had a little hesitation due to never having done phone sex with someone before. As if Eleven could sense your uneasiness, she smiled.

"I can take it darling... Just for you." She added another finger, the three digits stretching her pussy open. She felt her high slowly approaching, coming like a force. "D-darling-ahh I'm close... so close.."

"Mm you wanna come baby?"

"Yes-nghh... yes I wanna... come... p-please."

Who were you to deny your sweetheart such pleasure? "Alright love you can come."

Eleven continued thrusting her fingers, bringing her other hand to pinch her nipples. Her legs shook with zeal as she came, her juices coating the sheets and some falling onto her phone. You heard the loud erotic moans and the sound of water splashing. "O-oh darling... I have to wash your sheets." She giggled melodically.

"Yeah y...wait! Are you in my house?!" She giggled even more, falling into your pillow as she took a sniff, a breathy moan escaping her lips.

"Yes I am.. did you forget you gave me a key?" Now that she mentioned it, you did give her a key to go to your apartment whenever she wanted. With a sigh, you chuckled.

"I did forget."

"Oh my~ is your memory getting foggy from thinking about me too much, hmm?"

"N-no!"

You heard shuffling coming from the other end of the line when suddenly your phone received a message. As you picked it up, your jaw dropped. Eleven had sent you a two pictures. One where she took her fingers and spread open her pussy and the other is where she sat on your pillow, her pussy pressed flush against the softness.

"Don't expect a dry pillow when you come home, darling~"

#ptn eleven #path to nowhere eleven #ptn eleven x reader #path to nowhere eleven x reader #path to nowhere x reader #ptn smut #path to nowhere smut #ptn x reader

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 months ago

Note

Hey I was just wondering how writer!reader and Logan are doing? You don't have to write anything I just really love that story!

Logan let himself into your apartment and felt himself relax fractionally. You were home. He could hear the food dehydrator droning and the dog gnawing on something. The clacking of keys on your keyboard.

You'd had to go on a work trip and took the dog with you- a perk of being able to drive it. And Logan would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little better knowing Trigger was with you. Sure, he was kind of a dick sometimes but he loved you, that was for damn sure. And he'd make sure no one fucked with you.

It was better still having you here though. Where he could keep an eye on you himself. "Hey, Princess," he hummed hanging his jacket up, "how was the drive?"

"Fine," you yawn, "only almost hit a deer. And saw some one steer with their feet."

"You hit a deer?" he growled

"Almost," you shrug, "Stopped a foot from-"

Logan scowled at you and leaned over the sofa, "I'm going with you next time."

"Logan I'm fine, the hospital said-"

"I don't give a fuck," he rumbled, tilting your chin up. "My girl, my baby, remember?"

You bite your lip and shut your laptop, "You don't have to, I mean I don't have anything that's not local for-"

"I didn't have to bring you a steak and some grilled veggies either," he said smirking, "But you sounded like you really fucking wanted it."

"God I really do. That hotel was just- ugh- never again."

Logan tutted and kissed the top of your head. "C'mon and eat, mama. I'll take care of you since your management fuckin' won't."

#ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #writer!reader

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dimpledcherry · 2 years ago

Note

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

#help I wrote this all out and it didnt save and I could look at this point for like 2 weeks after.#but she is done!!#I hope ive done your ask well #this was fun!!!!#relocated heads ask #Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fluf #Eddie Munson soft #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction #joesph Quinn smut #Eddie Munson ask #joesph quinn #st4 #Eddie Munson headcanons #joesph Quinn fluff #joesph Quinn fanfiction

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obsessivestar · 15 days ago

Note

please for the love of god I crave a Ted x reader fluff of him teaching u how to edit smth and it’s just him being patient and it’s just sweet and happy live u Star u a pos

Patience is Key-framing

A Ted Nivison x Reader fluff fic

Just a small lil' one shot because you asked so nicely ♡ (literally made me laugh when I woke up)

//Warnings: Mentions of/implied anxiety, cursing, other than that this is pure fluff \\

Enjoy!

You had decided to try out this whole "content creation" thing after Ted's best friend Tucker had been telling you about the GameCube video he had been working on. It seemed like a fun little side hobby to help keep the creative juices flowing and you had quite an easy time with the script writing and filming of it all. Now, you figured you'd have an easy time editing it. Ted was nice enough to allow you to use his computer to edit and you've made little edits on your phone before. How complicated can it be?

You open up the editing software Ted had recommended, start a new project and you're hit with...way too much. Way, waaaaay too much. Why is there more than one bar at the bottom? Why are there two screens? What the fuck does 'Farlight' mean? No clips in media pool? THAT'S where the clip goes? What the fuck is the other square for then? What the hell are these icons? Wait why is the player over there if the clips go here? This isn't like my phone at all, how the hell does Ted use this? 'Export Metadata???'

You're hit with so much at once, it's difficult to focus on one thing. You end up in this sort of stunned state where everything in front of you seems a whole lot bigger than it probably is. Suddenly your fingers are sort of shakingly hovering over the mouse and keyboard, confused little 'Ah's and 'What's cutting out of your nervous voice. There's nothing here that makes sense to you. Absolutely nothing. It's way more overwhelming than you thought it'd be. Maybe you should use what's familiar...

"Your hand's supposed to be on the mouse, babe." Ted comes into his room with two bottles, yours and his, topped off with some fresh water from downstairs. He comes and stands next to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"How the fuck do you use this?" you ask with a shaky chuckle, placing your hand on the mouse to begin curiously clicking around. You're trying not to look as freaked out about this software as you are, but jesus fuck, what does ANY of this mean? "I'm not makin' any sense of ANY of this.."

"I did tell you to wait.." Ted tilts his head at you with a knowing smirk, his brow perking up in a sort of 'I told you so' way.

"Okay--I didn't think you meant 'don't open the software', asshole. I.." You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a shaky huff. How were you supposed to know this software was going to look like...this?

"Okay okay, that's on me, it's alright.." Ted knows you don't mean to snap at him. You can see it in his eyes, he knows you're overwhelmed. He reaches up to lightly pet the top of your head in an attempt to calm you down. "I'll help you through it, alright? I'll talk y--not like that--but I'll talk you through it."

A soft smirk spreads along your lips, slightly leaning your head away from his hand. "Don't pet me, it's patronizing.." you comment in a sort of snarky tone, crinkling your nose at him.

"No it's not." Ted let's out a snort. "You're just still thinkin' about me talking you through it."

"Your words, not mine."

"Oh come on. You spend too much time on Tumblr."

"They've got some interesting shit to say about you!"

"I'm sure they do, now let's focus. M'kay? Phone down now. Tumblr thoughts go away."

"Stop talking to me like I'm 5."

"It's calmed you down, hasn't it?"

"....Alright--"

Getting rid of all other distractions, you fully focus on the screen in front of you, listening to Ted as he teaches you the basics of how this software works. He helps take your attention away from anything you won't be using and keeps you focused on what you already know from using your phone. You hate to say it, but the friendly little teaching tone he uses with you is...kinda helpful. You hate it, but it's helpful.

"So let's drop a video from a clip I made the other day. You're gonna go up to File, hover over Import...yep, and click Media."

"What's Pre-conformed EDL?" You cut in, tilting your head. "What's that supposed to--"

"Ah ah ah, doesn't matter. I don't even use it. Click Import. That's where we get the videos."

So that's what you do. You click Import, find the video clip and double click. It brings the clip into the box on the left, way up in the corner. Oh!

"Oh, so this is like...where you keep all the clips?" You ask, feeling like a light has clicked on in your head.

"Yeah, like if you had more than one." Ted replies with a gentle smile, giving you a nod. "Keeps everything organized.."

That actually makes sense.

"Now, if you want to edit a clip, you just draw it down here, where all these white dial lookin' things are..."

When you follow Ted's instructions, the clip that you had selected now shows up in the right box as well as showing the timeline at the bottom, just like how it would look in the editing app on your phone. It's starting to look exactly like you're used to! Even some of the buttons on the bottom are starting to look familiar. Cut, Edit, Color..

"Oh shit, wait, so...if I wanted to cut this..." You slide the timeliness over a few seconds ahead and right click, but you don't see an option to cut that part of the clip. You furrow your eyebrows and glance at Ted, quietly signaling him for help.

"What, are you trying to cut the clip? Like to turn it into two?" Ted asks, standing at bit closer to you to get a clearer look at the screen. "OK, so to do that, you click the scizzor icon over here, and then you'd right click what you want to delete.."

You follow his instructions once more, and it all happens just like he said it would. There's a little green line in the timeline showing exactly where you cut the clip, then you right click, delete the right clip, and boom. That easy. You let out an excited little gasp and wiggle your hands in joy. You're understanding now! You're getting it!

"There ya go! That's good!" Ted praises you with a single clap, shooting you a proud smile.

"Ok! Ok ok ok, I'm getting it.." you let out a thrilled little laugh, placing your hands back on the keyboard and mouse. "It's a few extra buttons, but I'm getting it.."

"Oh yeah, you get used to it, honestly." Ted admits with a little nod, fluffing up the front of his dark hair. "Eventually you can learn to use the keyboard's controls once you know how everything works; everything that you need, at least."

"Keyboard controls?" You turn to Ted, tilting your head a little.

"Like how you can use Alt F4 to close a page, or Control F to search for a word."

"Ohh! Oh that's cool!"

"I know! It is cool!"

Suddenly, something that was easily overwhelming you on your own has become fun with Ted's help. He guides you through every step of turning this one minute of gameplay into a proper clip. He teaches you how to separate game audio and microphone audio so you can hear his commentary clearer, he teaches you how you zoom in and out smoothly, how to add text and how to key frame in other photos and shots to emphasize a moment in the gameplay. Once he got you to focus on re-learning what you knew from your phone editing apps, you were able to ignore everything else in this software that confused you before and focus on what you've learned! You eventually get good enough to go ahead of Ted's instructions, clicking down on the timeline to cut a few seconds of silence from the game audio with relative ease.

"There ya go! And the clip is done!" Ted takes a step back and holds his arms out triumphantly, giving you a proud grin. "That's it! Now you just do that with all the clips you've got from your video! You did good!"

"That's crazy.." You smile back at Ted before looking at the monitor again, looking over the editing software that had overwhelmed you so much before. You still had a lot to learn, but you knew enough to be able to do most of the editing on your own without having to ask any new questions. You kinda hate to admit it, but Ted is a good teacher. He did goto film school, after all.

"Thank you." You turn your chair to face Ted, giving him a cute little bashful smile. You can tell he's proud of you. You're proud of yourself, too.

"Not a problem at all, babe.." Ted slips his hands into his loose pockets, giving a little shrug and a warm smile. "It was overwhelmin' for me too, everything new takes a little time to learn. I'm glad you were okay with me helping you. Makes me happy too."

God, he's just so...

You can't help yourself. You move up off of his chair so you can wrap your arms around him in a big hug, almost trapping his hands in his pockets with your tight grip. He let's out a gentle little chuckle, slipping his hands out of his pockets so he can return the hug, his long arms able to wrap around my whole body. He smells nice...

"...Ted?"

"Mhmm?..."

"...Can you pet my head again?.."

"Yes I can.."

#ted nivison #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison x you #ted nivison fanfic #ted nivison fluff

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linearities · 2 months ago

Text

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ✧ . · SUPERST☆R . . ! !

you're finally releasing your second album as a soloist and hongjoong, your best friend of 6 years, is worried. by past experiences, he knows you're probably overexerting yourself and treating your body horribly, so he decides to take care of you with his own hands.

pairing: black! fem! idol! reader x idol! hongjoong

warnings: fluff, reader is overworking herself (don't do that), mentions of fainting, not proofread!!!

notes: uhm,, hi? finally finished this project and am so so excited to post it! got out of my writing block as soon as got released from jail (college) and now i'm here! :D hope you enjoy it!

taglist form.

divider here.

Being an idol wasn't easy. Being a black idol was worst. You had debuted in a group of five that disbanded in two years, and you were the only one who signed the contract again, going on as a soloist. The amount of hate and turbulence you faced along the way was not even capable of being put into words, but you still thrived.

Superstar.

Is what they'd call you. You had the looks, the moves, the voice and the raps to do it all, and you kept going on and on at your mid sized company. Working at KQ was easy. They all held a lot of respect for you and your work, especially your best friend of 5 years, Hongjoong. The amount of dating scandals you two had together was insane, but your company was well aware of the nature of your relationship, so they didn't really care. Their only request was not to do anything behind their backs.

He knew you had an upcoming album and how hard you were working, and he also knew all of the times he had found you passed out from exhaustion at your studio, with files open everywhere and your forehead smashing the keyboard. With that in mind, he decided to pay you a visit, guessing that you were at your house since you were nowhere to be found in the company building. He used the spare key he got a few months ago when you went on tour and asked him to take care of your plants, unlocking the door and being greeted by complete silence and dimmed lights, making the ambient a lot more comfortable. He went to the last room in the house, peeking his head in only to find you in a completely dark room with three monitor screens shining on your face. You looked exhausted.

“y/n?” he called, stepping into the room and stumbling upon the sight of an unhealthy amount of empty energy drink cans and protein bars wrappers.

“oh hey, Joongie. come in.” you mumbled, still not taking your eyes off the screen. He got closer, crouching down beside you and watching as your knee bounced up and down in a state that he had never seen you.

“how long have you been awake for?” Hongjoong asked directly, placing his hand on your knee.

“uh…” you looked at the time on your screen, quickly calculating the hours. “56 hours.”

you heard as his breath hitched, a disappointed sigh escaping his throat.

“why do you keep doing this to yourself?” his voice was soft as he caressed your knee, looking up to the screen. “are you finished?”

“almost.”

he took a deep breath and sat on the small couch you had on the corner of your studio, watching as you readjusted yourself on your seat and how quick your fingers moved around to click on the mouse and type on the keyboard. you were able to finally finish it in 3 hours, double saving it in multiple accounts and making sure nothing was missing when you finally turned the computer off.

“done.” your whole body collapsed on the chair, a deep sigh leaving your throat. god, you were spent.

"how many times have i told you not to do that, y/n? did you even had a break? have you eaten anything other than protein bars?" Hongjoong couldn't help but to scold you, his voice filled with concern. your eyes shut close as he kept talking, taking deep breaths before finally looking at him again.

“yeah, i know. i just had to finish this, Joongie, don’t worry about me.”

“don’t worry about you?” he sounded outraged just by the idea of you dismissing his care. “how can i not worry about you when you’re overworking yourself like that?”

he took a deep breath, walking closer to you and rotating your chair until you were facing him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled downwards as a physical display of his discontentment. you felt like you were going to cry. somehow, Hongjoog always brought the vulnerable side out of you, something only he could see, only he could pull it out of you.

he crouched in front of you so his eyes could meet yours properly, softening as he saw the exhaustion in them.

“bunny, you can’t keep doing this to yourself, please. above everything, the company cares for your well being. i care for your well being. please, rest. you need it.”

Bunny.

you don't know how the nickname stuck. maybe when a fan made a compilation of "y/n acting like a bunny for 45 seconds straight", or when Wooyoung said that they were right. you acted like a bunny, extremely cute but a huge brat. however it happened, it had a special meaning between you and Hongjoong. did you know what that meaning was? no, not really. it just was.

getting out of your own thoughts, you finally noticed the look he was giving you. disappointed, of course, but also loving. caring. your heart started banging on your chest. why did he have to look at you like that? why did he have those pretty heart eyes at you? why did Hongjoong, your best friend, made your heart palpitate?

"i…" you gulped down, feeling your throat dry. "i actually ordered takeover, but i didn't have the time to eat it."

he sighed again, running a hand through his hair. his thoughts conflicted between scolding the life out of you or taking care of you. he decided to do both.

"come on, let's heat it up. you haven't eaten in way too long."

"i had protein ba-" you couldn't even finish your sentence, the look he shot you making you shut up immediately.

"you go shower, i'll heat up the takeover and bring it to you."

it was a clear and obvious command, and you were eager to comply, getting up from your chair like a child who were just scolded and tracing the way to the en suite bathroom in your room. as soon as he heard the shower running, Hongjoong sighed in frustration. how could you be so careless? so irresponsible with yourself? it maddened him. he went through the tin cans and wrappers, throwing it all on the trash and tidying up your desk for you. well, one thing was out of the way.

making his way to the kitchen, Hongjoong kept himself quiet. he rummaged through the fridge without ceremony, grabbing the untouched takeover and frowning in almost disgust. he heated it up on the stove, trying to make it more edible for you. he plated it on what he knew was your favorite bowl and paced across the house to your room, being met by you already dressed, combing through your freshly washed curls with a detangler. sat in front of the vanity, your eyes met his through the mirror, tracing the way from his face to the bowl in his hands. he walked closer, placing the food and the cutlery on the table.

"here." his tone was firm, yet gentle. he took the detangler from your hands and took upon himself to brush your hair, while you mouthed a ‘thank you’ and started to eat. again, he took his time. gently combing through the curls and watching you eat.

"which one now?" he pointed to the innumerous hair oils aligned in the vanity, capturing your attention.

you took the sunflower oil in hands, handing it to him. "two pumps should be enough."

"i know." he said simply, pumping two times and rubbing the oil in his hands before finger combing your hair.

he knew.

he knew how to take care of your curly hair. he did his research, and you had teached him, after all. a blush creeped on your cheeks, and you stuffed your mouth with the last bit of the way artificial food, swallowing it down just as he finished caring for your hair.

"done." you mumbled out, looking at him through the mirror only to find out that he was already looking at you. he took in the blush on your cheeks and the slight sparkle of your eyes, mesmerized by the way your lips moved as you chewed or spoke. gorgeous, he thought, but didn't verbalize it. instead, he took the bowl away to the kitchen, washed it, and came back already finding you ready to tuck under the covers.

"are you staying the night?" your voice came out softer than expected as you looked at him propped at the door.

"do you want me to stay the night?" the question was shot right back, his dark eyes gazing right into yours as he stepped closer and closer until he sat by the edge of the bed.

"even if i do, will you stay the night?" you almost whispered, looking at him from under your lashes. you could see how his gaze softened, how his posture relaxed.

"yes." he whispered back. "i will."

a soft smile splayed on your lips, hands patting the pillows by your side as an invite. he smiled back just as soft, getting up from the bed.

"i left some clothes here last time…" he stepped into the closet, looking around.

"second drawer on the left."

your eyes were focused on his every movement. how he murmured out 'thanks', how he changed to the comfort of sweatpants, but ignored the shirts on the drawer. how he left his previous clothing in your basket of dirty laundry as if it was part of his daily routine. back on the bed, he slid beside you under the covers, turned to the side so to see your face properly.

"i'm still mad at you." he said, hands reaching out to softly brush away a stray lash fallen on your cheek.

"i know." you whispered back, eyes instinctively closing with his touch. "i'm sorry."

"you always say that but never change your behavior." his hand cupped your cheek, thumb softly brushing your skin. "you'll end up getting sick."

"i'll be fine."

"no, you won't. you already fainted during a stage. do you want it to happen again?"

that shut your mouth. being reminded of those events was not the way she wanted to spend the night.

"i just don't want to disappoint my fanbase. to throw away all the effort put into my career."

"you'd never do that, bunny. ever. your fans absolutely adore you. our company adores you. i adore you. i don't want you being sick."

sighing, your eyes opened to meet his own, intense and caring towards you. you felt your stomach doing cartwheels, breath caught in your throat.

"how can i stop doing it when you're looking at me like that?"

the words escaped before you could even think about it, immediately regretting it. you saw how his brow cocked up and how a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"like what?"

"like… like i'm the whole world in the palm of your hands."

the words came out in a shaky breath, and his eyes immediately became gentle. no teasing, no scolding. only pure gentleness and care.

"but you are. you are my whole world, y/n."

you wanted to scream. he sounded so gentle, so loving, so… truthful. a wave of emotions crashed in your mind, suddenly very aware of all the love, all the pining, and all the longing for him during all those years of friendship. memories of your early days at KQ, memories of all the bouquets, the Camellias and Lillies handed to you by the staff of music shows every time you won, his initials well written on a card glued to the colorful paper wrapping them. the warmth on your chest, the blush on your cheeks, the stars in his eyes. the way you’d sneak out and just drive around at night, the way he was so gentle, so caring. how his hand was always close to your waist when in crowded places, the way he would whisper encouragement words in your ear on the backstage of music shows.

maybe it was all about it. maybe it was all about him.

“you are my whole world too,” you were finally able to say, eyes gazing into his starry ones, “you are my whole world, kim hongjoong.”

the small, sweet smile that splayed on his lips made the butterflies in your stomach dance around. even more when, leaving all his confidence aside, he leaned closer to capture your lips in a gentle, caring kiss.

“let's get some sleep, okay? you did good, my superstar. you can rest now,” he whispered, his arms wrapping around your tired body and fitting with yours like a puzzle, his lips meeting the top of your head in another sweet kiss.

and it felt so good to feel your body finally relaxing, with his fingers running through your locks and your face buried on his shoulder. so good to finally rest with the warm feeling of his body against yours.

so right to be his superstar.

that was it yeas hello :3

i'm already working on part two (smut :3) so if you wanna be tagged let me knowwwrrrr !!!

love you all, xoxo!! <3

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