#i wanted to draw more but i’m in fact sleepy

[no-144444]

https://www.tumblr.com/no-144444/780788902343622656/a-little-better-cleclerc?source=share

Yes! More parts

the time is nigh- c.leclerc

꩜ summary: imola is fast-approaching and a decision needs to be made

꩜ pairing: husband! charles leclerc x fem! pregnant! wife! reader

꩜ a/n: suggestive mentions 18+

part one, part two (this can be read on it's own tho but this just gives more context)

The Imola Gp was fast-approaching. Charles was becoming increasingly nervous, due to the fact that you were a few days past your due date, and he’d have to make a decision, either miss the race and risk the baby not being born yet, or don’t miss the race and risk missing the baby. 

Realistically, he knew he was going to choose you. Either way, whatever that meant, he would choose you. 

“I need an answer,” Fred sighed. “You have to have your full focus on this team Charles, when you’re here, you need to be here.” 

He glanced your way from where he sat- back against the headboard. You were still asleep, looking ridiculously gorgeous as you slept soundly beside him, the early morning light shining in through the gaps in the blinds. Your hair a little messy, your mouth a little open, your brow furrowed. You had trouble getting to sleep these days, especially with Lina (a name you two were trying out) constantly kicking and moving about. He smoothed a hand over your forehead, brushing some hair out of your face, your nose scratched up, and subconsciously leaned further into his touch. His heart squeezed, and his decision was even easier. “I can’t come this weekend Fred, my family has to come first. Fred, you know better than anyone that I have given our team my everything for as long as I’ve been there, and I’ll continue to when I’m on working hours. Other than that, it’s up to me to decide on what I need.”

“I understand. I’ll tell Zhou he’ll be driving this weekend. Thank you for being honest, Charles,” Fred ended the call before Charles could ask what that meant, but regardless, as the decision settled in his mind, it didn’t create a black hole around his heart, as so many of his decisions had before. Decisions that put you on the chopping block. Decisions that he knew would make your life harder.

“Who was on the phone?” you wrapped an arm around his middle, leaning your head against his lower stomach. He wrapped an arm around your back. He missed this. Mornings with nothing to do. Mornings with you. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he sighed, pulling you closer. “Just Fred.” 

You stiffened, eyes turning up to meet him. Your hand turned to a fist and retracted from his body. You sat up. “Oh,” you nodded. “When do you leave?” 

He shook his head, a hand reaching out to take yours. “No baby! No, I’m staying here, obviously.”

You stared at him. “You’re staying?” you questioned. He nodded. He couldn’t help but see the way your eyes lit up, the way your shoulders dropped a bit, the way your ears perked up. “That’s great,” you smiled, clearly trying to contain your excitement. 

“I don’t want to miss Lina,” he smiled, rubbing a hand over your swollen belly. “And I want to be there for you.”

You smiled right back at him, eyes bright and shining. You leaned into him again, his warm skin against yours. “Thank you,” you whispered. He just stared as you relaxed beside him, eyes closing again. The soothing circles he was drawing on your stomach, his heat warming you up, that feeling of being cared for, something you hadn’t realised had been so absent from your life. He watched you like you were his favourite channel now, when before he could barely spare you a glance. “We can go to the market today,” you whispered, a sleepy tone of voice. Charles chuckled beside you. 

A ringing doorbell broke you both out of your bed, and he rushed to get up before you even moved. You chuckled as he slid across the hardwood floors, making sure you didn’t have to move a muscle. 

“Maman?” he questioned. “What are you doing here?” 

“We need to have a baby,” she answered as if it were obvious. Her and Arthur pushed into the house, moving Charles to the side. “Doctor’s don’t want to induce yet, so we have our own ideas!” 

If it weren’t for the early hour and the fact that Charles had wanted you to himself for a day before all the crazy baby stuff started and he had to go back to work, he would’ve thought this was super sweet. He frowned as his mother placed a grocery bag on the counter. “Maman, Lina will come when she’s ready-”

“You’ve picked a name?!” she squealed. “Oh, Lina is so beautiful, I love it!”

Charles sighed. “Maman, she will come when she’s ready, we don’t need to-”

“It’s not a terrible idea,” you shrugged, standing in the doorway. One of Charles’s old ferrari hoodies draped over your swollen belly, tiny pyjama shorts, and a curious look in your eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if it happened today.”

He would’ve argued if you didn’t look so beautiful it made him lightheaded. “Smart girl!” his mother quipped, kissing your cheek. “So I looked it up, and it said spicy things help, so I got you some peppers. Dates are also supposed to be good, so there’s a bag of those,” she unpacked the bag as you listened intently, and Charles just watched in awe. “Raspberry leaf tea, pineapple-”

“Lube?” Arthur chuckled, picking up the bottle. “Maman, how do you think they got into this situation-?”

“Turtur,” Pascale slapped his arm as he giggled. “The last thing is sex, apparently it helps,” she shrugged. “Anyway, you guys have fun, call us if little Lina is on her way!” she smiled, leaving the both of you standing shocked in the apartment. 

“Never thought I’d hear your mom talk about sex,” you admitted, placing the lube on the counter. “Kind of shocked.” 

“Agreed,” Charles sighed, cheeks red. “Well, we’ll give them a shot. Dates first?” he looked at you, and you looked down. He could sense there was something behind it, but he didn’t want to pry. This balancing game he’d gotten so used to being able to figure out, got a little bit more complex. He stared. “Or the spicy food?”

You sighed. This shouldn’t be so awkward! You told yourself. Just tell him! “Ummm,” you cleared your throat. “I could… I think I’d like to have sex,” you responded in the most awkward way possible. “Or not. I don’t mind.”

He looked at you with all the affection in the world. “Oh ma chérie,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist (as best he could). “Why do you look so nervous?” 

You shrugged. “It’s been a while,” you didn’t meet his eyes. That was fine. “I didn’t know if you were still… y’know.” 

He stilled. “What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice low. You didn’t answer. “Mon cœur-”

You pulled away, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. This is so humiliating. You thought, wanting to just crawl up in a ball and die. He was your husband, and yes, you noticed the way he pulled away as your body changed. You didn’t think much of it in the beginning, then it became the only reason you could think of. But you’d pushed it away in recent weeks, focusing on the new Charles, the one who cared. “You’ve been so distant for so long, especially since the second trimester. I just… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t think I was sexy to you anymore, or something. We don’t have to do it, it’s stupid anyway-”

“Baby,” he took your hand. You kept your eyes on the ground. “I think you’re the most beautiful,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Most kind,” he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Seixiest,” he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “Most wonderful,” he pressed a kiss to your bump. “Most irresistible woman on the planet, and I plan on reminding you of that, right now.” 

He smirked from his kneeling position in front of you, and you felt that flicker in your chest, the kind that you felt at the beginning. That fun you’d both missed for so long. 

You woke up at about 4pm, surfacing after a long morning, where Charles showed you exactly what he meant. 

“Mon amour,” Charles whispered, turning over and switching on the light. “Why is the bed wet?” 

Holy shit. Now was the moment.  You were going to be a mom. Charles was going to be a dad.

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

taglist:

@awritingtree @boherahpsody @janeh22 @dustie-faerie @anayaverse @buckybarnessweetheart @scriptedinkbyxim @ferrarisstr @freyathehuntress @isagrace22 @htpssgavi @chloemehchloe @ggaslyp1 @pookynknowntranger

[poltergeist-punk]

got super inspired by @basilisk6 and their art/au of the freaks <3333 post here

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request some domestic Ford x Reader headcanons? Just how they would live together either before portal or after the portal (or both hehe). Ty!

Given how dedicated Ford is to his work, it’s more often then not did you find him sleeping on or in places he probably shouldn’t, you’d try and make his position a little more comfortable by covering him with a blanket or putting a pillow or two under his head in hopes of preventing a crooked neck.

You’d press a kiss to the top of his head and whispered sweet dreams to him, unknown to you that after everything with Bill Ford had became a light sleeper, and so would feel touched whenever you take care of him in small but meaningful ways.

This sweet yet insufferable nerd would find himself captivated by you so much doing mundane things that he ends up drawing them in his note book subconsciously. So much to the point where when he pulls himself out of his own mind, he finds several two page spreads dedicated to you feeding stray cats, talking and or playing with Dipper and Mabel, giving Waddles a bath, or just you standing in the kitchen first thing in the morning looking haggard but beautiful none the less.

Physical touch is his love language followed by acts of service to make up for the fact that he spends most of his time in the lab more so then by your side like he should as your partner. you knew how much his work meant to him but Ford could clearly see the glimmers of his neglect within your eyes when you tell him you understand that his work was high priority.

It hurt him to know that he was the one causing the distance between you two and he felt as though you shouldn’t compromise yourself just to better suit him and his wants and needs. So he’ll always try to make up for his neglect and try to spend his mornings with you by making you breakfast and bring it to bed for you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. Ford only wanted to repay you for being there for him while condemning himself for not tearing the favour.

‘Normally you’d be in the lab by now.’ You pointed out as you watched as he slipped back into bed with you, something he rarely did since he was more often than not fast asleep on that makeshift bed down in the lab.

Ford feels just how cold his side of your supposedly shared bed was and could only imagine the amount of times where you’ve fell asleep alone, dreaming of the day where he’d come up and join you, only to frequently be greeted with the sight of an empty and cold mattress instead of him.

Why he never comes to your shared room was a mystery to even himself as he felt it went a lot deeper then him just being sleepy, was it because he didn’t feel as though he should share a bed with you after the amount of times he has neglected you for his work? Possibly but he wanted to change that and stop being absent in your relationship.

‘I fear I haven’t been the best of romantic partners as of late and for that I must apologise and make things right by you.’ He replied and you placed a hand over his own, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘I won’t disagree with you there but please take your time Ford, I’m not going anywhere.’ You tell him softy and Ford was once again proven why he didn’t deserve you nor your kindness.

So Ford would slowly start to do things for you that he knew you were less then wanting to do unless it was the last resort whether it be washing the dishes or tying your shoes when the laces come undone and you huff in annoyance. Anything that maybe an inconvenience to you Ford will do for you instead so that you don’t have to bother with it.

He’s got a good memory and knows your likes and dislikes like the back of his hand and he treasures this knowledge greatly, no notebook needed when it comes to you that you feel seen and loved whenever he remembers the little bits about you that would go over someone’s head.

Like how you like your morning drink, how you like your sandwiches cut, your favourite flower, your favourite memory-which was of the time the Mabel drew on him and thrown glitter on his red turtleneck while covering his hands in her sticker collection- and how you loved to steal his turtlenecks because you miss him whenever he’s in the lab.

So he starts to leave his favoured red turtleneck where he knows you frequent as he hides nearby to watch you smile softly and wear the turtleneck for the rest of the day. Whatever made you happy made him happy in return, being in a relationship with him may have not been that easy but he thanked you for staying with him when you could’ve left him.

Listens to you speak and could listen to you talk the day away and it could pertain to anything and everything, Ford just likes hearing you speak passionately about things you loved or have experienced while out in town and come home just to tell him. So much so that he gets this look in his eye whenever you speak about your daily activity that you’d have to stop and ask; ‘what’s with that look in your eye?’

He doesn’t understand what you meant by that and asks himself; ‘what look my dear?’

You: the one that you get whenever you’re really interested in what I’m saying, even if it’s boring.

Ford: because what you’re saying is investing to me, even if it may seem boring to you but to me I’m just being feed more reasons why I adore you.

You burrow your head into the Turtleneck you stole from him because of the feelings he brought out within your chest.

You would return the favour by listening to him speak his mind about the oddities of Gravity Falls in depth and his theories about how many more of them could be out there, waiting to be discovered and documented. He even told you about the time he drop kicked Gnomes once, the mental image of it made you laugh.

Ford is a bit of a homebody when it comes to date nights, not for any reason in particular, other than the fact he wanted to be focused on you and only you. So Mabel helps him plan for these dates in extensive detail, even if it was written in glittery pink gel pen. Most of the time you spend it on the roof of the shack where you can watch the stars come out while enjoying the others company.

It wasn’t much but it was much to you and Ford as you rest your head on his shoulder, take in the fact that he was here with you and inevitably fall asleep on his shoulder after he rests his head atop of your own, whispering sweet dreams to you this time before he manages to carry you back to bed; where this time he joins you and brings you into his arms tightly before falling asleep himself, warning his side of the bed at long last.

Also you probably have to patch him up after he goes out monster hunting, the man maybe smart be he’s often times reckless with himself. Also kiss his scars please he’ll love you for infinity if you did so, and also kiss his hands for he had gotten unnecessarily picked on about and call them his unique gift that he shouldn’t be ashamed of, you thought having six fingers was cool. You’ll have that man melting faster then butter if you do and you get to see his hardened face become soft and tender that you can’t help but smother in kisses.

[aventurineswife]

so i know you don't want to write for sahsr right now so may i request a sagau where creator (also artist reader if you are ok with that) reader basically just adoring all the kid playable characters cause they think their just the cutest like the reader cheering on kachina as she makes her way through the night warden wars or the reader could name ingredients that diona could use for her drinks

Welp... 🧍‍♀️

I love that idea so much! It's really cute to think about the creator being absolutely enchanted by the kid characters in Genshin Impact, especially since a lot of them are so precious and funny.

As the creator, you are a being of incredible power and influence—yet at times, you can’t help but be utterly charmed by the smallest things. And nothing melts your heart more than the precious little ones of Teyvat, who always seem to be ready for an adventure (and often, mischief).

Klee

It all starts when you watch Klee during one of her explosive missions. She’s running around, her small feet taking her across the battlefield, her cheerful giggles trailing behind her as she launches bombs in every direction. And as much as the others cringe, you can’t help but adore her.

You find yourself cheering her on from your place above, your voice soft yet full of encouragement:

"Go, Klee! You’re doing great! You’ve got this, just a few more bombs and you'll show them who's boss!"

You can practically see her face light up, as though she’s hearing your words, her giggles growing even more infectious.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" she cheers, as the explosions continue, and you think, maybe I’ll draw her with all those sparkles around her next time—oh, how fun it would be to make her look like a literal firecracker in my painting!

Diona

Then there’s Diona, your favorite little bartender, who may look small but holds her ground with her ferocious attitude toward anyone who dares to doubt her drink-making skills. You’ve seen her concoct all sorts of strange but (somehow) delicious potions, and you're there, in the background, naming all the ingredients she might use for her drinks.

"Hmm, Diona," you muse from your corner, a grin spreading across your face, "How about you add some mint leaves for a refreshing taste and a splash of lavender for a calming effect. A little honey wouldn’t hurt either!"

She pauses, glaring at the air for a moment, as if pondering the suggestion. After a moment, she huffs, shaking her head. “Hmph. You think you know better than me? Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But it’s still gonna be better than anything that idiot swillmaster makes.”

You laugh, quietly, adoring her tenacity. You can’t wait to paint her, maybe with some of the fresh ingredients floating around her, her tiny arms crossed in that cute, pouty manner.

Kazuha and Sayu

Kazuha and Sayu often wander the lands of Inazuma together, sharing stories of the world. But you can’t help but notice how small and innocent they both look, especially when they get caught up in their small adventures.

Kazuha, while wise and calm, becomes this beautiful and somewhat soothing sight as he plays his flute while Sayu, despite being a ninja, tries to keep up but always ends up sleepy or distracted by the clouds.

“Hey, Kazuha, you should totally give Sayu a ride on your back,” you suggest with a soft chuckle, watching as Sayu tries to climb up Kazuha’s back and ultimately just ends up lying down instead.

You adore their dynamic. Kazuha always smiles when you’re cheering them on, and Sayu often gives you a tiny wink as if saying, “I know, I know. I’m cute.”

Nahida

Nahida, the archon of wisdom, might be incredibly powerful, but she has a youthful curiosity that’s completely contagious. You find yourself constantly beaming as she gets excited over learning new things, always running around with a little notebook, jotting down facts about the world, or chasing after butterflies in the fields.

"Look at her go," you muse as you watch her from afar, your heart swelling with pride. "She’s so curious, so full of life. You can do it, Nahida! Keep chasing that butterfly! It's yours!"

She looks up from her butterfly chase, beams with her bright, warm smile, as if hearing your praise. There’s a part of you that can’t wait to draw her—capturing her joyful energy, her hair fluttering in the wind, and her little hands reaching out for the world.

Meanwhile, the characters who watch you interact with these little ones are torn between being endearingly amused and very confused.

Albedo, who sees you painting these adorable scenes of the children, may quietly ask, “Are you sure you want to paint them this way? They’re… quite a handful, aren’t they?”

Zhongli, ever the calming presence, merely chuckles, his hands clasped. “Let them be, my friend. You’ve captured their true nature in your artwork, as always.”

Diluc, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow when he overhears you cheering for the kids. He can’t quite decide if it's adorable or baffling, but he keeps his opinions to himself, lest you get any more ideas to paint him in some weirdly soft light.

Before long, you find yourself starting an entire gallery dedicated to your love for the younger characters. Klee’s explosive adventures, Diona’s sassy bartending, and Nahida’s innocent curiosity are now immortalized in stunning, vibrant colors. Every character is fascinated by your works—some even request copies.

And you know what? It doesn’t matter that you’re the creator, or that your abilities stretch beyond the limits of mere mortals. For these small, lovable, and endlessly adorable children of Teyvat? They will always have your heart.

[gabberpopsexclusive]

The fact that Joost has confirmed like 3 (!!!) times that he likes to go slow is just… i cant handle it

Like think of him kissing all the way down your body, rubbing you so slowly you want to rip your hair out. And when you tell him to go faster he just keeps toying with you 😖😖

I’m normally a bottom joost enthusiast but this just gives top vibes for me IM SORRY

mmm hear me out anon..

sleepy slow sex with joost?? listen yall hear me out.

joost wakes up before you, looking to the nightstand next to your shared bed. the clock reads 6:43am. he looks over to you, your blissfully sleeping face making him smile. you look so beautiful in the dim light.

he just cant resist you. slowly, he moves down the bed to your side, maneuvering your legs so that he can see your panties. he slides his finger over the material covering your pussy, which draws a small moan from your still unconscious mouth.

he continues to tease you lightly, moving your underwear to the side and toying with you, making more light moans come from you.

he swears the noises you make are the most angelic sounds hes ever heard, all he wants to do is hear more from you.

you stir slightly, and he brings his face to your pussy, licking a gentle stripe up it. you wake up slowly to him in between your legs, a plesant surprise on a slow morning.

you gently grab his hair, moaning at the sensation youre feeling. the pleasure is slowly overwhelming you, his speed is at a pace where you dont feel too overwhelmed, but youre still feeling pleasure.

the feeling builds up fast for you, and you let him know that. he takes no issue with letting you cum, for now, licking it up from your folds slowly and sensually.

when hes done, he moves up to meet your face, placing light kisses on it and down your chest as he moves down his boxers. he pauses quickly and stares at you. you lightly ask him to continue, your meek and tired voice gently passing through his ears. unfortunately, he decides to toy with you for a bit longer.

running his hands up and down your body, gently toying with your nipples, and then stopping completely. you want him to continue, you want him to make you feel good, but it seems like hes just getting off on watching you writhe and beg for him to do something.

eventually he makes his way back up to your face, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. his face leaves yours, finally taking his dick out and moving down to watch his length enter you. it feels absolutely surreal, being half awake and feeling such overwhelming pleasure from your lover, the feeling is enough to make you cum again right then and there.

he sets a slow pace, its antagonizing you that he isnt deciding to go any faster. youre trying to subtly hint it at him, looking up at him with needy eyes and letting out louder moans when he hits a spot that feels particularly good. eventually you give up, and actually have to use your words. it felt like he was slowly teasing you for an eternity, and you just couldnt handle it anymore. the begging and pleading coming from you is another noise he finds absolutely angelic, swaying him to finally do as you ask. he starts to go faster, and finally he hits a pace where you cum not too far after he starts thrusting at that rate. after feeling you cum, he cant resist the urge, and pulls out to cum all over your stomach.

it may be a mess, but he loves to clean it up for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hi. yes i maybe snuck a little sub!joost down at the end. cuz why not. (imo the mans totally a switch but thats a discussion for another post.)

anywayyyz.. hope u like this one. took me a lil while to get out but i grinded for yall 🫶

[phoenixblaze1412]

So glad to see a Dottore writer! Can I ask for dottore and the segments with a reader who oversleeps a lot? someone who sleeps like 12-14 hours. sleepiest guy ever.

The first time Dottore realized how much you overslept, he assumed it was a one-time occurrence. A simple exhaustion, nothing more. But as time passed, it became glaringly obvious.

You were, without a doubt, the sleepiest person in all of Snezhnaya.

Twelve to fourteen hours of sleep a day? Completely normal for you.

Nodding off mid-experiment? A weekly event.

Disappearing for "just a quick nap" and waking up the next morning? Routine.

Dottore, of course, found it both fascinating and mildly concerning. As a scientist, he initially considered analyzing your sleep patterns, wondering if some neurological anomaly was at play.

But after repeated tests revealed nothing unusual besides an innate talent for sleeping anywhere, anytime. He resigned himself to the reality that you were simply like this. The segments, however, all had their own ways of dealing with your chronic drowsiness.

Alpha: The Most Responsible (and Slightly Annoyed)

Alpha took it upon himself to try and keep you on schedule. Emphasis on try as Theta would say. He’d knock on your door in the mornings with an exasperated sigh, already expecting no response.

“Wake up. It’s nearly noon.”

Silence.

Alpha knocked again, harder. “I’m not asking.”

Still nothing.

By the third attempt, he simply resorted to dragging your blanket off the bed, knowing it was the only thing that might stir you.

It didn’t.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose before calling for the others. “We need backup.”

Theta: The Chaos Enabler

Theta found your sleepiness hilarious. Unlike Alpha, he wasn’t interested in fixing your sleep schedule—he was interested in seeing just how deep your slumber truly was.

“How long do you think it’ll take for them to wake up if I draw on their face?” he asked Zeta one morning.

Zeta, ever composed, sighed. “That’s childish.”

Theta grinned. “You’re right. We should stack things on them instead.”

Dottore eventually had to ban “experiments” involving your unconscious body when he walked in to find a precariously balanced tower of books, vials, and a very confused laboratory rat resting on your back while you continued to sleep peacefully.

Zeta: The Quiet Observer

Zeta didn’t interfere much with your sleeping habits, but he did take note of how it affected your well-being. If you had trouble focusing after waking up or if you seemed groggy for too long, he would wordlessly hand you a strong cup of tea and remind you to pace yourself.

“You don’t have to rush,” he’d say whenever you stumbled into the lab, hair still a mess from sleep. “Just be awake enough not to mix volatile chemicals incorrectly.”

That had happened once. Just once. And no one wanted a repeat of it.

Epsilon: The Concerned One

Unlike the others, Epsilon actually worried about your excessive sleeping. “Maybe it’s a deficiency,” he suggested one day. “Or an underlying illness. We should run more tests.”

Dottore hummed in consideration before glancing at you, drooling on your desk in the middle of a meeting. “…Or they could just be lazy.”

Epsilon frowned. “I don’t think laziness explains this level of unconsciousness.”

Dottore chuckled. “No, but watching the others struggle to wake them up is entertaining.”

Dottore: The Only One Who Can Wake You Instantly

Despite all the segments’ attempts, there was only one undeniable fact: when Dottore himself called your name, you woke up immediately.

Whether it was fear, respect, or some kind of Pavlovian response, no one knew.

Theta once tested this theory by mimicking Dottore’s tone and cadence. It failed miserably.

You slept through it.

But the moment the real Dottore leaned over your bed and murmured, “If you don’t wake up in the next ten seconds, I’m increasing your workload,” your eyes snapped open instantly.

Dottore smirked. “Fascinating.”

The others groaned. “That’s not fair.”

[moonstruckme]

hii omg I absolutely adore your blog!! i love the interactions between the guys and reader, the way you write them makes them feel so so real 💫 I was wondering, how do you think they'd react to reader having a horrible nightmare and not being able to fall asleep? you dont have to write it ofc, and sorry for my english it's not my first language 🥰

Hi, thank you lovely! Please don't worry about your english, it's amazing and it'd be no problem even if it weren't, and thanks for requesting <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You wake with a tear already slithering down your face from the injustice of it. Your chest feels empty and crushed, and you press your palm to your breastbone as if that will ease the hollow ache. You come to terms quickly with the fact that none of it was real, you’re okay, but there’s still evidence of your terror and indignation in your too-hot skin. You pull the sheets covering you to the side so that half your body is exposed to the cool air. 

“Hey.” The word is hardly more than a raspy exhale, Sirius’ voice slurred with sleep. You’d evidently slipped free of his arms at some point in the night. You distinctly remember falling asleep with his breath on your forehead, but now there’s nearly a foot of empty space between you. His face rubs against the pillowcase as he shifts to see you better. “Hey, what’s up?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though your voice is tight with unwanted tears. They keep squishing out of your eyes, like aftershocks of an earthquake that’s already fading from your memory. “Just a dream.” 

Sirius reaches for your face. His hand is pleasantly cool against your skin, but he makes a sleepy discontented sound at the wetness he finds. “You’re crying.” 

“Shh, you’ll wake them.” You cover his hand with yours, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay, go back to sleep.” 

Sheets rustle as James rolls over to face you. “Whas’ going on?” 

You sigh. “Nothing, sorry.” You turn your face from Sirius’ touch, moving one leg over the edge of the bed. “I’m going to go get some water.” 

“She’s crying,” Sirius tattles, though it’s hard to be too mad at him when his voice is still foggy with sleepy bemusement. He wraps his hand around your elbow. “Wait, stay.” 

You go to shush him again, but then you see that Remus already has his eyes open. He’s been watching you quietly for who knows how long. Superb. At least your crying has finally stopped. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” James says through a yawn, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he props himself up on his elbow to see you over Sirius. “Bad dream?” 

“Yeah, just a dream,” you reassure him softly. “Go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, though he still looks like he’s got weights sewn into his eyelids. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“No, thank you,” you say as kindly as you can. “I just want to get a drink, then I’ll go back to sleep.” 

“I’ll get it for you, love.” Remus’ voice is rough. He rolls over and says warningly, “Light,” before turning on the lamp beside the bed. Sirius makes a low moan of protest, turning his face into the pillow, and you and James both squint your eyes. Remus passes James his glasses, sitting up to get out of bed. 

“I can get it,” you object. You go to mirror him, but Sirius holds fast to your elbow, preventing you from moving off the mattress. 

“No, I know better.” Remus steps into his slippers. “I’ve got it, you stay.” 

You watch guiltily as he plods out of the room, then turn to James and Sirius with a bemused look. He knows better?

James gives you a small smile, tinged with apology. “Whenever you say you’re going to get water in the middle of the night, you never come back,” he explains as Sirius wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer. “None of us wants you to deal with these things on your own, angel.” 

Your face starts heating again with the knowledge that they’ve found you out. You do often say you’re going for water after nightmares like these, so that your boyfriends will go back to sleep even though you can’t. You usually end up sitting in the living room, distracting yourself with sudoku or reading until it’s a reasonable hour to make breakfast and pretend you’ve only just woken up.

“Give ‘er here, Pads,” James says at your touched silence. “We can share.” 

Sirius holds you to his front and rolls over, situating you between him and James on the bed. James takes your face in his hands and sets about kissing your salty cheeks, lips wet and smooshed and more loving than you could ever deserve. You can’t help but smile as he does it, and Sirius makes a quiet sound of satisfaction, giving your middle an appreciative squeeze. 

“They’re just dreams,” you argue when James pauses. “I don’t need to be babied over something that didn’t really happen.” 

“They’re still upsetting,” Remus says as he comes in with a cup of water, “aren’t they?” 

“Sort of, I guess.” You sit up to take the cup from him, doing your best to convey your gratitude through a look. He gives you a tired smile as he gets back in bed beside James. “But it’s like, half the time I don’t even know what I’m upset about. I forget them.” 

Sirius disentangles his arms from you as you sit upright. He settles for rubbing your lower back instead. “But you can’t sleep afterward.” It’s not a question. 

You take a sip of water, speaking quietly into the cup. “I think I get too worked up.” 

“That’s alright, darling.” Remus’ voice is soft and smooth as butter. “Your body’s just still working through the emotions of it all, yeah? But maybe, instead of running off and staying up all night, you could let us help you.” 

You look over at him. The warm light from the lamp makes his mussed brown hair look golden as he watches you consideringly. “How?” you ask tentatively.

“Seems like all you need is to calm down,” James says, looking up at you from where his head rests on the pillow just beside your hip. You want to squirm at all the attention, but there’s nothing pitying in his gaze. “We can at least try to help with that.” 

You hesitate, and Remus reaches over, wrapping his hand around your cup. “Done with this, lovely?” He takes it when you nod and sets it down on the nightstand. “Alright, lie down.” 

You do as he says, shimmying beneath the covers. Remus shuts off the light. 

Sirius’ grip is solid as he turns you by your hips, setting your back to his front. “Still feeling too warm?” he asks softly. 

You blink into the darkness. “How’d you know?” 

He chuckles, and you feel his lips press against the back of your head a moment before his hands snake under your pajama shirt, cool palms pressed flat to your stomach. “Because I know you, sweet girl.” 

“Do you think taking some deep breaths would help?” Remus murmurs. 

You’re not sure, but you try, counting as your lungs expand and contract until they start to feel a bit more like their normal size. 

“There you go.” James’ lips press to the spot between your brows. “Does that feel better, angel?” 

“Yeah,” you admit. The word emerges like a sigh. Your voice is slipping away, quieting as you grow drowsy. Sirius can tell, and he begins to rub his palm slowly back and forth across your ribs. It grows warm against your skin, but you don’t mind so much anymore. “Thank you guys. Sorry for waking you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, darling.” Remus’ words start to slur as his own sleep finds him. “We’d always rather all be awake than leave you by yourself.”

[joons-cinnamon-bun]

The holiday pretense -2-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, idiots in love, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying, they are absolute idiots. like, there is no way about it. pure idiots. anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 2-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: We’re already in December. Damn… Enjoy. Merry Christmas. part 1: here, part 2: reading, part 3: here , part 4: here

Namjoon peered down at your sleeping form, his tired eyes tracing the soft, quirky murmurs that drifted from your lips as you burrowed deeper into his chest. What started as a faint whimper blossomed into a quiet, endearing snore, drawing a gentle smile from him.

He hadn’t planned to wake this early, but sleep had eluded him for the fast few hours. These quiet pre-dawn moments usually brought him peace—a hushed pause before the day took over. Today, however, his mind was restless, skimming over scattered thoughts until it inevitably circled back to you.

You looked like a dream. The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, bathing you in a warm, golden glow even as you nestled deeper into his body. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the delicate lines of your face. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of your lips—the same lips he’d kissed just hours before…

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize how intently he was staring, until your eyes suddenly fluttered open. Instinct kicked in, startled, you both reacted at the same time, and you jumped up just as he tried to lean back. The both of you groaning in unison as you cradle your forehead, which had slammed painfully against his chin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you cry, urgency quickly replacing the sleepiness in your voice.

“You were snoring. I’m sorry,” Namjoon defended, rubbing the spot where you collided.

“I don’t snore!” you glare up at him, eyes finally focusing enough to see the blood gushing from his nose. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You leaned over him to grab a napkin from the bedside table. But still half asleep, the hand you’d placed between his legs couldn’t support your weight, and you crashed right onto his belly, eliciting a loud “oof” as he fell back on his pillow.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your face smushed against him as you struggle to grab a napkin. In your frantic attempt, you knocked the tissue box off the table, sending tissues whirling to the ground.

“Just- ow!” He winced when you pressed the napkin to his nose, confusion evident on his face. He clearly hadn’t expected blood or to be in such a vulnerable position so early in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the third time, slightly loosening your grip on his face.

“Stop apologizing,” he mumbled “It’s my fault too.” Namjoon took the tissue from your hands and pressed it harder against his nose trying to suppress the stinging sensation.

You lingered there for a moment, captivated by the tissue grazing his lips, until the warmth of his skin under your cheek snapped you out of it. His shirt had ridden up in the altercation, baring a sliver of his toned stomach, now conveniently pressed against your face.

As if sensing your awareness, Namjoon furrowed his brows and gave you a quizzical look, prompting you to sit upright, the blanket trailing behind you like a cape.

“Yes, it is! What’s wrong with you?” You scolded. “Do you always stare at people when you sleep next to them?”

“I wasn’t staring!” Namjoon’s head shot up; his voice defensive but laced with amusement. “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” you shot back, despite having no evidence to support your claim. You struggled to untangle yourself from the blanket, nearly tripping in your haste to escape. The bathroom door closed with an accidental slam behind you, leaving you momentarily alone with your spiralling thoughts.

Leaning over the sink, you splashed cold water on your face, the chill biting at your skin and grounding you—if only for a moment. Yet your heart refused to cooperate, its erratic rhythm spiking again when you heard the faint shuffling from the bedroom, followed by a soft, frustrated “Damn it.”

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, meeting your own wide-eyed, dishevelled stare. Tangled hair perfectly framing your flushed cheeks, the hoodie you’d borrowed from Namjoon sitting askew on your shoulders and remnants of sleep clinging stubbornly to your face.

Charming. Just the image you wanted to project.

Then, your gaze drifted to the mint toothpaste sitting on the counter, and a fresh wave of emotions washed over you. It hit you all at once—His lips pressed to yours, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the look he’d given you after.

 The way he looked at you…like he was searching for something. Or maybe you were imagining it. God, you hoped you were imagining it.

You gripped the edge of the sink, leaning into it as embarrassment burned its way down your spine.

But deep beneath the flurry of second-guessing and distress, you manage to find a crumb of courage while quietly going through the motions.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself upright and finished the small, familiar task of brushing your teeth. As you twisted the faucet shut, you stole one last glance at your reflection, your eyes searching for reassurance.

With resolve that felt both flimsy and monumental, you stepped back into the bedroom, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

Namjoon was still lying on the bed, a new tissue pressed against his nose. He looked up as you enter, and an unexpected flicker of self-consciousness crept in, making you hyper-aware of every step you took.

 “Are you okay?” You asked, attempting a softer tone.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the napkin to inspect the bright red spot there. “Just a bit of a love tap, you know?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you shoot back, but the words only made him laugh softly, easing some of the tension in your chest.

You grab a clean tissue and lean in closer to inspect the damage. "I'm really sorry," you say, perching on the edge of the bed. You take the napkin from his hands with little resistance and replace it with your own. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," he replies, his voice soft. "But next time, maybe warm me about the snoring.”

"I don’t snore!" you exclaimed, the defensiveness in your tone spiking and earning another heartfelt laugh from him.

“Okay, fine. You don’t,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But just as you were about to relax, he added under his breath, “Next time, I’ll record you.”

You narrowed your eyes and considered actually pinching his nose.

“You’re impossible.”

Namjoon only grinned, dimples deepening, as you carefully pulled the tissue away to dab the remains of the nosebleed. The softness of your touch seemed to quiet him; his teasing replaced by something warmer. There was a tenderness in the way you focused on his injury, small lines of worry forming on your forehead. He wanted to laugh, seeing as you dealt with more dramatic injuries in the past, yet he didn’t want to disturb you as you carefully touched his cheek with your free hand. The warmth of your palm contrasting sharply with the chill of the morning air.

As if you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, you look up, meeting his eyes.

“You’re blushing again.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, your cheeks heating further as you refocused on his nose, cleaning the surrounding area as if he were made of porcelain. You kept your attention on the injury, desperate to ignore the proximity—and the gentle warmth of his breath against your skin and the inexplicable tightness in your chest.

“There,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking the stillness as you placed the tissue aside. “All better.” To diffuse the tension, you gave his cheek a light pinch before standing up to tidy the room.

Turning your back to him, you busied yourself with cleaning, scooping up the crumpled tissues littering the bedside table. But Namjoon’s eyes never left you. He watched the way you moved, the way your hair caught the light, and the way you scrunched your nose in irritation when you realized how much of a mess you’d made earlier.

When you bent down to retrieve a stray napkin from under the bed, you caught him staring again. This time, a soft laugh escaped him when he realized he’d been caught red-handed.

Before he could say anything, you grabbed the discarded blanket and tossed it at him.

 “So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked quickly, moving toward your suitcase and fumbling with the zipper, your voice a little too casual.

“I’m taking you to a bakery,” his voice was muffled as he poked his head out from under the covers. “And my dad asked us to pick up a Christmas tree.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of a Christmas tree. Even though the holiday spirit felt far away in this moment, a surge of excitement stirred in your chest. “A Christmas tree?” You echoed, trying to mask the intrigue in your voice with an air of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “I thought we could decorate it together tonight.”

“You hate decorating the tree.”

“True,” he chuckled, “but I’d rather suffer through it with you than alone. Besides, my parents have some ornaments that I think you’ll like.”

You paused, makeup bag in hand, feeling his words settle over you. In the two years you’d lived together, Namjoon had never once shown a shred of enthusiasm when it came to decorating the apartment. He was more the type to lounge on the couch with a book or a video game while you tangled yourself in string lights and sparkling baubles, only for him to chime in at the end with a “You missed a spot”. Still, he always helped place the star on top —mostly because you couldn’t reach it, and he was taller.

“You’re volunteering for your own torture?” You glanced over your shoulder, eyebrow raised, just as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms high above his head.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning back, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal the muscles flexing underneath. The morning sunlight steamed through the window, contouring his skin with an irresistible golden hue.

Quickly you turned back to your makeup bag, rummaging unnecessarily for a lipstick as warmth crept up your neck and onto your cheeks

“My mom will force us either way.” He declared, the faint defeat in his tone punctuated by a dramatic sigh ash he strolled towards the bathroom.

You let out a small laugh at his resignation, but it got caught in your throat when he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing in onto the bed.

Your gaze betrayed you for half a second, flickering toward him before you could stop yourself. The lean lines of his back, the soft stretch of his shoulders, the way his skin gleamed faintly in the light—everything you weren’t supposed to notice left an imprint far too vivid in your mind.

Heart pounding, you forced your eyes back to your bag, gripping it as though it were a lifeline. But it was too late. You were certain he’d seen your reaction.

“See something you like?” His teasing voice reached you just as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Your face flamed, and you whipped around, glaring at the now-closed door. “You’re impossible!” You called out, loud enough for him to hear over the sound of the running water.

~~~~

The aroma of freshly brewed tea greeted you as you stepped out of the room, mingling with the faint hum of life coming from the kitchen. The soft click of the bathroom door shutting behind Namjoon grounded you, though your thoughts still spun wildly. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to regain composure, but the sound of running shower only stirred your imagination further—steam rising, droplets tracing the contours of his bare skin. Heat crept up your neck, and you shook your head sharply, chastising yourself. Get it together.

In a desperate attempt to regain control after the completely unfair sight of your sun-kissed, shirtless friend, you decided a little distance might actually do you some good. Grabbing the first cozy sweater and pair of jeans within reach, you tugged them on and practically bolted out of the room.

He’s your friend, you reminded yourself firmly, though the mantra did little to steady the pounding heart in your chest.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Kim and Minhi were seated at the dining table, morning sunlight streaming through the large windows. The golden light bathed the cozy space, catching on the delicate wisps of steam curling up from their teacups.

“Good morning, my dear,” Mrs. Kim greeted warmly, lifting her head to meet your gaze. “Did you sleep well?”

You smiled, pushing away any lingering thoughts from earlier, and took a seat at the table. “Yes, thank you,” you replied, carefully avoiding any mention of what had just transpired.

“Is Namjoon taking you out?” Minhi asked, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity over her teacup. You could almost swear there was a hint of a smirk forming on her lips.

You confirmed with a shy nod, but a new wave of heat crept up your spine, igniting your ears as if someone had turned up the thermostat.

Mrs Kim’s face broke into a broad grin. “Do you want me to whip you up something to eat first? Coffee or tea?” she asked, already rising from her chair.

“No, no,” you quickly interjected, waving your hands “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Namjoon’s just getting ready.”

Naked in all his glory in the shower…

You forced your mind back to the present as Mrs. Kim’s kind gaze lingered on you. Smoothing down your sweater, you took a steadying breath, doing your best to appear collected. You really had to pull yourself together.

“Is he taking you to Ajumeoni’s bakery?” Mrs. Kim asked, settling back in her chair with a huff. “At this rate, he’s paying for her grandkids to go to college.”

“C’mon Mom,” Minhi piped in. “The strawberry tarts are just-” She closed her eyes and inhaled dramatically, as if savouring the scent of sweet pastries. “They’re heavenly, I swear.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Mrs. Kim merely waved her off.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, her own smile softening the mock exasperation in her voice “Just be home in time for dinner.”

“Yes, of course,” you nodded dutifully, resolute in your mission to be the perfect pretend-girlfriend today —a supportive friend, and nothing more.

“Jackson’s picking them up after work, mom, don’t worry.” Minhi said, her laughter cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“He is?” you asked, blinking in surprise but taken in by her contagious laughter.

“Did you think you’d carry the tree in the metro?” Minhi giggled, her gaze flicking to the hallway as hurried footsteps echoed from upstairs.

Moments later, Namjoon appeared, his dimpled smile lighting up the room.

“Good morning!” he called out, running a hand through his freshly styled hair, the effortless charm in his voice matching his appearance. The brown sweater he’d chosen hugged his tall frame perfectly, drawing your attention to the way it accentuated the broad lines of his chest. The golden necklace at his collarbone caught the soft morning light as he bent down to plant a sweet kiss on his mother’s cheek.

Then, his eyes found yours, playful and warm before winking your way. “Are you ready?”

You fought to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks, admiring him for a fraction too long. The vivid memory of his shirtless body flashed in your mind, and for a moment, words seemed to escape you.

“Hey, yeah, I’m all set,” you finally managed.

Namjoon’s smile just widened, a teasing softness in his eyes as he stepped closer. The scent of his cologne, fresh and warm, mingled with the aroma of tea as he leaned down toward you.

“You look really good.”  He said, his voice low and sincere.

All your mental preparations evaporated.

You glanced down at your grey sweater and jeans, disbelief flickering in your mind. Were you two looking at the same thing?

“Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.” You replied, attempting a casual tone, despite yourself, but you’re certain your tomato red face gave you away.

Minhi and Mrs. Kim were shamelessly observing, their amusement barely concealed. Minhi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips, while Mrs. Kim hid her laugh behind her teacup.

“Are you two going to stare at each other all day, or are you leaving?” Minhi nudged, leaning back in her chair with a knowing grin.

Namjoon chuckled, breaking the moment as he pulled back slightly. “We’re going, we’re going,” he assured, offering his hand to help you up.

As you stood, his palm rested briefly on the small of your back, sending a warmth through you that lingered. He shot his mother a cheeky smile as he led you toward the door.

“Don’t wait up,” he added with mock innocence, ushering you down the hall, and earning himself a pinch to the side form you.

~~~

The morning light was bright, yet it did little to chase away the frost in the air. All bundled up in your puffy winter coat, you walked through the bustling neighbourhood streets, the wind nipping at your cheeks as sunlight glinted off fresh snow. Beside you, Namjoon strolled at an easy pace, his tall frame hunched slightly against the cold.

 The shop windows glittered with seasonal displays- strings of lights, shimmering ornaments and snowy landscapes. Every so often, Namjoon would break the silence with a light-hearted comment or snippets from his childhood- stories that warmed you despite the cold.

“Look at that,” he nodded towards a window filled with beautifully wrapped presents underneath a grand Christmas tree. “I used to think those were real. I’d stare at them for hours, hoping someone would let me take a peek inside.”

You giggle, picturing a younger Namjoon, starry-eyed and full of wonder. “Did you ever get to sneak a peek?”

He shook his head, the soft pink on his cheeks deepening in the cold. “No way! My mom had a sixth sense for that kind of stuff. She always caught me.” His warm laugh carried over the frosty air, lifting your spirits even as the chill settled in your bones. Without thinking, his hand found, fingers curling gently around yours as he led you down the street.

A little later, he stopped again, his gaze stolen by a snug bookstore with a charming display in the window. The small shop exuded warmth, its large front window showcasing a centrepiece of fake snow, big red bows and a collection of carefully arranged books. His eyes lit up as they landed on a particular title propped up prominently in the centre.

 “Would you mind if we go in?” he asked, nodding towards the book, excitement brightening his face.

You followed his gaze, your heart sinking and cheeks flooding with heat the moment you recognized the book. Panic sets in as your mind scrambles for an excuse. It was a book from a Korean author who had recently burst onto the literary scene, earning praise for their intricate storytelling and philosophical metaphors. Naturally, Namjoon had fallen in love with their work, dissecting every layer of meaning in conversations that you secretly loved, but teased him mercilessly for.

You had heard so much about the author, that when you saw the newest release weeks ago, you knew it was the perfect gift for him.

“No!” you blurted out quickly, voice sharp enough to startle him.

“What?” He turned to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because…” you hesitated, heat still rising to your cheeks as you struggled to find a good enough reason. But after a few seconds, you sighed in defeat and crossed your arms. “Because I already got it for you. You can’t buy it.”

His expression softened, a big grin spreading across his face as he stepped closer to you. “You got it for me?”

“Yes,” you muttered, averting your eyes as your blush deepened. “So, you can’t ruin the surprise. Keep walking, Kim Namjoon.”

He chuckled, his dimples making a brief but devastating appearance as he gave your arm a playful squeeze, holding you in place. “Alright, I’ll let it go. But…” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Did you see the decorations?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in the topic and followed his gaze. He was nodding toward the shop entrance, just a little further away, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and festive greenery. Your eyes drifted upward, landing on the small spring of mistletoe dangling above the doorway. Its pale berries glinting like snow in the soft light.

His hands burrowed deeper into the pockets of his coat as he tilted his head toward it, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Better be careful with that,” he teased, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

You raised an eyebrow, watching the delicate plant sway slightly in the winter breeze. “It’s bad luck not to kiss under it,” Namjoon clarified, watching you with a hint of challenge in his expression.

“Since when are you so superstitious?” you asked, a laugh escaping you as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I’m not,” he admitted with a shrug, though the sheepish grin that tugged at his lips made his intentions clear. “I just like covering all my bases.”

Before you could answer, Namjoon leaned closer, his breath a soft warmth against your skin. His lips brushed your chilled cheek in a quick, fleeting kiss—a touch so warm and unexpected it made the cold air around you feel sharper by comparison.

You stood frozen for a moment, your cheek tingling where his lips had been.

Namjoon pulled back, his grin deepening, dimples carving into his cheeks. “There,” he said lightly, straightening his coat as if nothing had happened. “No bad luck now.”

 Normally, you’d brush off his antics as harmless teasing meant to get a rise out of you. But this time, it managed to frits your brain. You stare at him, a mixture of indignation and disbelief sparking in your chest. “Kim Namjoon, you-”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, already stepping back towards the bakery door he’d been guiding you all along. “Don’t blame me, blame the mistletoe,” he quipped, holding the door open for you, the bell above it chiming softly.

Your cheeks still burned as you stepped past him, shooting him a glare that lacked any real heat.

Inside the bakery, the scent of sweet cinnamon and vanilla wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The bell above the door chimed softly again as Namjoon followed, the sound blending seamlessly with the cozy hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain mugs.

The interior was just as inviting as the aroma —a rustic charm, with walls lined with wooden beams and subtle golden accents. Twinkling fairy lights cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the rows of pastries displayed behind a pristine glass countertop.

Puffed-up croissants sat beside glistening hotteok, their caramelized centres looking absolutely delicious. Spiralled kkwabagi dusted with sugar and candied sweet potatoes. And then there were the cakes — delicate, crowned with fresh berries and swirls of vanilla cream, their perfect edges almost too beautiful to disturb.

Namjoon walked over to the counter, his tall frame leaning slightly as he studied the pastries with an almost childlike delight. The faint flush on his cheeks from the cold only added to his charm, softening his sharp featured and making him just the more endearing.

You couldn’t help but watch him, captivated the way his eyes shone with delight. There was something so disarming about his enthusiasm, so pure in its simplicity, that it made the flutter in your chest impossible to ignore.

“Will you let me order for you?” He asked, suddenly interrupting your thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” you smile, the slight flutter in your stomach making you laugh softly. As he turned to the counter, his brows furrowed in exaggerated concentration, you couldn’t help but admire him anew.  Namjoon has always been thoughtful, but this moment felt particularly tender, as though he was putting in the extra effort to make it memorable.

The bakery was alive with the bustle of other patrons, their laughter interlaced with the clinking of kitchen utensils in the back. A barista was busy steaming milk for lattes, while the warmth of the oven diffused toward you, chasing away any lasting chill from outside.

Namjoon finally ordered a selection of absolutely mouth-watering cream filled croffles and piping hot coffee. The lovely old lady at the serving counter lit up when she recognised him, leaning over to pinch his cheeks playfully. She gushed about how tall he had grown and how handsome he was, even calling her husband from the back to see Namjoon after all these years. You giggle softly, enjoying the lively exchange as Namjoon laughed, clearly relishing in the attention while trying to dodge her affectionate teasing. In the end, he walked away with an extra serving of milk bread as a ‘parting gift’ which he gratefully accepted, beaming as he thanked her.

The table Namjoon chose was tucked in a quiet corner, its window overlooking the bustling streets outside. The festive neighbourhood, framed by twinkling lights and snowy sidewalks, looked like a scene pulled straight from a snow globe. And as you settled into your seat, snowflakes began to drift gently from the sky, only adding to the hallmark-movie charm that seemed to influence the day.

“Here you go,” Namjoon settled the croffle in front of you. It was golden brown, with a crispy exterior that cradled the rich cream filling inside, adorned carefully with gingerbread crumbs — arguably, it was a masterpiece on a plate. He didn’t sit down yet, instead turning to fetch the coffee from the café counter

“Kim Namjoon?” a voice called out, and you looked to see a beautiful girl with big doe eyes shining once she looked at him, her pouted lips curving into a charming smile “I’m Min Iseul, do you remember me?”

Namjoon seemed shocked for a moment, but quickly regained his composure, his smile widening as he replied, "Oh my god, yes, hi! How have you been?"

“You know,” she smiled “life in a small town tends to be quiet. But what about you-?”

You watched from the corner of the table, feeling a tightness in your chest as Iseul place a hand on Namjoon’s arm. A frown formed involuntarily on your face as a pit began to settle in your stomach. Their conversation continued, the sound of their voices becoming a distant murmur as you forced your gaze downward, glaring at the croffle on your plate.

It felt horrible to realize that the sudden pang was indeed jealousy —raw and undeniable, it seemed it had taken root in your heart without your consent.

What was happening to you? You had always viewed Namjoon as a friend. You had watched him flirt with countless girls without a second though, yet now, here you were, on the verge of snapping at the mere sight of a pretty girl touching his arm. And of course she was perfect for him. She looked up at him as if he single-handedly hung up the stars, with her perfect hair, perfect smile, and that perfect body that made even the bakery apron look like high fashion.

It wasn’t just about Iseul, though. It was about something deeper, something you couldn’t quite explain. It was about not wanting to be replaced and a fear that quietly whispered to you that perhaps, you already had been.

As they continued their chat, the world outside quietly transformed. The snow began to blanket the streets in a delicate layer, framing the moment like a quaint, picturesque postcard. Inside, however, it felt like a different story. You picked at the croffle, the rich cream suddenly feeling too sweet compared to the bitter twist in your mood.

Finally, Namjoon returned, coffee in hands, a bright smile still lighting his face. “Sorry about that! Iseul and I used to be in the same classes at school,” he said, then paused when he noticed your expression. His brows furrowing in concern.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, taking your hand in his.

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of the moment. “Yeah, just… it’s nothing.” You lied, tasting the bitterness on your tongue. God, you hated lying.

He studied you for a moment longer, and for a brief second, you swore you saw something shift in his eyes.

“Alright,” he said slowly, a hint of uncertainty lingering. “Well, let’s dig in! You have to try the milk bread. I promise it’s worth it!”

As you took a bite, followed by a big gulp of coffee, you resolved to push away your insecurity, even if only for today. After all, the reality of your friendship was simple: while you may never make his heart flutter like Iseul seemingly did, you could certainly raise his blood pressure.

Namjoon started a new conversation about the last book he read, and you fell into the familiar flow of dialogue as the snowy scene outside continued to unfold. But every now and then, your gaze would drift to the window, catching a glimpse of the town dressed in white. You found yourself wondering if it was possible to be both happy for him, and fearful of losing him, all while managing to still be his friend amidst the chaos of unbidden feelings.

“Do you remember Hoseok?”

You answered Namjoon’s question with a nod, seeing as he pulled you too abruptly from your thoughts. “He’s the pretty one that stayed over for spring break?”

Namjoon laughed, his eyes gleaming with the unmistakable light that made your heart skip a beat —even as you fought against it. Usually, his laughter would unravel the tight knots in your chest, but now, it seemed to tighten them further.

You remembered the visit well — Hoseok rolled up all the carpets in your living room, turning it into an impromptu dancing studio. He was kind, like all of Namjoon’s friends, but he also ate all your snacks and took great pleasure in flirting with you every time you ran into each other, much to Namjoon’s discomfort.

“Yeah, you two broke my laptop,” you started, but he cut you off.

“And I got it fixed!” he countered, defending his clumsy actions, which only made you laugh.

Namjoon chuckled, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. “He invited us over for a Christmas party tomorrow. It’s a little get together, if you want to go,”

“Definitely,” you replied, though your enthusiasm felt forced. The prospect of a party sent a thrill through you, but underlying that was a twinge of uncertainty. Would Iseul be there? Would it be just another night of watching Namjoon flirt with someone else knowing you’re just playing the part of girlfriend?

As you took another bite of the croffle, its sweetness still felt bitter, much like the turmoil in your heart. You wanted to be happy for Namjoon, wanting to fulfil the role you signed up for, but now, beneath your smile, there was a complicated mess of fear and longing. More than ever, you felt like all your walls might come crumbling down.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Namjoon’s voice cut through your thoughts again, concern lingering beneath his words “You seem distant.”

 You force a smile, but the ache in your chest screamed at you to be honest, to share your doubts instead of masking it under a façade of indifference.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” another lie. How could you possibly explain the heaviness that sat at the bottom of your stomach, the envy bubbling silently inside of you, the tightness in your throat that made it hard to breath?

Namjoon leaned back, his warm gaze unwavering, clearly unconvinced. But for the rest of the meal, he didn’t press further. You both continued to eat in comfortable silence, even as the air thickened with unspoken words.

The snowfall outside intensified, painting the windows with a blur of white by the time you were done, and you feared, once again, that the outfit you had chosen was ill-fitted for the icy weather.

Namjoon picked up a box of strawberry tarts for Minhi on the way out, and as he opened the door for you, you saw Iseul waving at him—a darling wave that ignited a firestorm of nerves deep within you.

In that moment, logic fled your mind. Without thinking, you grabbed Namjoon’s coat collar and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and confusion flickering across his face. The warmth of his body felt so close, yet the distance between you —created by your impulsive actions — seemed insurmountable.

You can’t believe what you were doing!

Namjoon was frozen for one second, but then he melted into the kiss. His free hand gently cupping your face, as if he were afraid, you’d run if he moved too quickly.

Namjoon’s lips were soft against yours, his warmth seeping through the layers of your clothes and spreading through you like a slow burn. The world outside seemed to blur even more, the cold, the noise of the streets, the snow rushing into the bakery, it all faded into an unimportant backdrop. All that mattered was the feeling of his lips against yours —gentle, hesitant, yet impossibly comforting.

For a moment, you almost didn’t regret it.

Then, just as quickly as it started, the kiss ended. Namjoon pulled back slightly, his hand still cupping your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as if seeking reassurance. His gaze flickered between your eyes, searching for something.

You felt the rush of heat flood your face as reality hit like a ton of bricks. What did you just do? The panic set in, an overwhelming wave crashing against your chest. You tried to swallow it down, but the vulnerability felt raw, exposed.

“I-I’m,” you stammered, stepping back slightly, your hands trembling as you pushed them into your coat pockets. “Mistletoe!”

Namjoon blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. His hand remained where it was for a moment, as if unsure whether to pull away or reach for you again. The warmth of his fingers against your skin was grounding, but the panic in your chest made it difficult to breath. You could hardly believe what you’d just done, but somehow, you still managed to squeeze out the most absurd explanation you could think of.

“Mistletoe,” you repeated, almost too quickly, the word falling past your lips like the snowflakes around you, each syllable hanging in the frigid air like a whispered secret.

His hand dropped to his side, the warmth from his touch slipping away as a flicker of something—concern, confusion, or maybe disappointment—crossed his face. It was hard to pinpoint, but whatever it was, it left an uncomfortable weight settling in your stomach.

He blinked, as if trying to make sense of the situation, then glanced at the mistletoe above the door. His expression shifted again, more uncertain now, and for a brief moment, there was a palpable silence between you, the world around you swirling in a soft flurry, but it felt like everything had stopped.

“Mistletoe?” he repeated, almost tentative. His eyes didn’t meet yours immediately; instead, they lingered on the mistletoe, as if searching for an answer in the small plant.

You nodded, fighting to keep your voice steady, but your throat felt tight, like the words were getting stuck somewhere between your chest and your mouth.

“Yeah,” he concluded, “I guess we could always put the blame on the mistletoe…” he said, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was still trying to grasp what had just happened.

You were about to argue further, to say something—anything—that would ease the tension building between you both, but just then, someone called out from inside the bakery.

“Hey! Make up your mind! Are you leaving or staying? You’re letting snow inside!” The voice was half-joking, but the discomfort in it made the moment all the more awkward.

Caught off guard, you and Namjoon exchanged a glance, and you both quickly moved toward the door, apologizing profusely to the patrons and the owners as you stepped outside.

“Sorry, sorry, we didn’t mean to make a mess,” Namjoon said, his words coming out rushed as he quickly pulled the door closed behind you, sealing off the chilly gust of wind that had followed you out.

You stood for a moment on the snowy sidewalk, the light of the bakery still visible through the frosted windows. The snowflakes seemed to have grown heavier, each flake falling in delicate patterns, as if trying to make the moment less heavy. But it didn’t. The air was cold, the street quiet, and despite the wintery beauty around you, your stomach twisted further and your heart beat erratically. Now it was just you and Namjoon in the silence of the day, both lost in thoughts you wouldn’t put into words.

Namjoon shifted slightly beside you, glancing down at the ground before speaking up. His voice hesitant, but there was an underlying softness to it that made your face heat despite the cold.

“So…” he began, trailing off as if searching for the right words. “No tongue this time?”

You blinked at him, your heart skipping over a few beats. The cold seemed to freeze in your lungs as you tried to process what he had just said. For a second, you were sure you hadn’t heard him correctly. You turned your head slightly, trying to gauge whether he was joking or not, but his expression was unreadable.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice coming out in a small, nervous laugh. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to lighten the mood or if he was just poking fun at you.

“I mean,” he continued, scratching the back of his neck, “if we’re going to blame it all on the mistletoe…” He trailed off, his tone playful but laced with a hint of something deeper, a flicker of curiosity behind his words.

That’s when you caught it. That familiar teasing glint in his eyes, the expression he had whenever he managed to make you fluster, and you huffed out in indignation, your breath transforming into a small cloud.

You crossed your arms, trying to gather your composure as you glared at him. The cold air biting at your skin, but the warmth of your embarrassment was far more overwhelming.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you shot back, your voice teasing but with a hint of defensiveness, as if you were trying to cover up how much his words had affected you. You couldn’t help it. The playful look in his eyes had a way of making your pulse pick up, and it didn’t help that every word he said seemed to sink deeper into the awkwardness of the situation.

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin on his face only growing wider “No, no! I’m not saying it’s your fault,” he said quickly, trying to reassure you, though the amusement in his voice didn’t quite match his words. “Just—y’know, I thought we were sticking with the mistletoe excuse. But, uh, it’s all on you now. You started it.”

“Me? I—” You opened your mouth, searching for a retort, but your brain was still scrambling to catch up with everything. Nothing coherent came to mind, and his look wasn’t helping in the slightest. “You kissed me first!” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon arched an eyebrow, his smile turning smug. “Yeah, on the cheek,” he countered, giving a little shrug as if that settled the matter entirely. He tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for your response, but when none came, the smugness in his expression only grew. For a moment, you considered whether it was worth the effort to argue with him. But then, his look softened, just enough for you to notice the shift in his expression —something that made your heart pick up again.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The absurdity of the situation—the way it had spiralled from a jealous outburst into whatever this was—left you feeling strangely vulnerable. His presence, so close beside you in the cold, seemed to magnify everything.

“Fine.” You finally muttered, crossing your arms tighter and shifting your weight from one foot to the other, almost chasing the cold away.

Namjoon’s dimples deepened; the teasing look in his eyes returning full force. “Fine?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “Is that you admitting defeat, or are you too cold to keep arguing?”

He collected your hand in his free one, leading you down the street towards the Christmas market.

You gave him a fleeting glare, narrowing your eyes. “Neither,” you shot back, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed the confidence you were trying to project. “I just don’t see the point in arguing with someone who twists everything to suit their narrative.”

Namjoon’s heartfelt laughter made any of the lingering tension dissipate, his expression taking on a look of sheer mock offence. “Twisting everything? Me?” He shook his head, his expression turning playfully solemn. “I’m just stating facts here. You’re the one who escalated things. I was perfectly content with a friendly mistletoe kiss. No drama. No tongue.”

Your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped at his audacity. “I did not escalate—oh my god, would you stop saying that?” you hissed, your voice low but filled with exasperation.

“Hey, you won’t see me complaining,” he replied smoothly, his voice softening just enough to send your thoughts spiralling. “But I never pegged you for the jealous type.”

“Gah! You’re insufferable!”

Namjoon’s grin grew as he watched you fume, his fingers tightening around your hand, as he led you down the snowy streets with easy confidence. The twinkling lights of the stalls cast a soft glow over the scene, the cold air whipped around you, but somehow, the heat between you kept the chill at bay, even if your cheeks were flushed from both the cold and the heated banter.

“Jealous? Who’s jealous?” you scoffed, trying to sound unaffected, but the way your beet-red face betrayed you. “I’m not jealous. I’m just…” you trailed off, realising you had absolutely no excuse lined up. The last part came out quieter than you meant, your voice showing more vulnerability than you were comfortable with, and you quickly buried your face in your scarf.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, his smile not quite fading, but the glimmer of something more thoughtful flickering in his eyes. He slowed his pace, just enough to match yours, the quiet hum of the market and the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet filling the space between you.

"You’re just... what?" he prompted gently, his voice laced with curiosity and that familiar edge.

“Just acting like a good fake girlfriend would.” You concluded, trying to keep your tone casual, but you felt your stomach churn slightly as you lied, like you were trying to brush off something that had begun to feel a lot more real than you expected.

Namjoon’s expression shifted — just a little. His face softened as he thought it over, then he gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder, his voice light as he responded, “Ah, I see. Well, I’ll admit, you’re pretty good at it.”

His tone made your heart settle a bit, but you couldn't shake the underlying tension that had suddenly crept in. You hadn’t meant to sound so serious, and yet there was something in his eyes now that made you second-guess everything. He gave a small chuckle, the kind that felt like distance—just enough to make you realize he wasn’t leaning in any closer, but not pulling away either.

He let go of your hand for a moment, running it through his hair, then casually reached for it again, as if nothing had changed.

“Well, as long as I’m the good fake boyfriend, we’re golden.”

You nodded, still completely flustered, but grateful for the shift back to something a little more familiar. He wasn’t pressing anymore. He wasn’t trying to read your true intentions. He was just… being Namjoon, your friend, your roommate, the guy who could make you laugh and leave you absolutely wrecked emotionally.

The rest of the walk was quieter, but not in an uncomfortable type of way. He kept walking besides you, hands stuffed in his pockets, occasionally throwing out a random comment or nudging you along with him as you made your way through the busy market and to the small Christmas tree lodge.

You two picked a tree without much debate. The scent of pine and oranges filled the air as you threaded through the festive area, the twinkling lights surrounding you. Namjoon’s presence besides you was oddly comforting—like an anchor in the whirlwind of noise and flashing lights. As you both made your way to the tree lot, he casually pointed out the skinniest, most scrawny-looking trees, joking about how much he’d like to buy one just to see his mother’s reaction.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his commentary, the tension from earlier completely forgotten. The awkwardness in the air had faded, at least for the moment, and you were thankful for it, seeing as you didn’t need more things to overthink tonight.

After a bit of back-and-forth, you both finally settled on a tree—a little taller than you both had anticipated, but perfectly symmetrical, with just the right amount of fullness.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. You two stopped to grab lunch at a modest-looking food stall, the inviting scent of fishcakes winning Namjoon over. You both enjoyed the warmth of the food as the wind continued to bite at your cheeks, the steam rising from your cups offering the briefest respite from the cold.

You tried mulled wine for the first time—warmed, spiced, with a tangy sweetness, but most importantly, warm—and to your surprise, you liked it.

The two of you wandered a bit more, chatting idly and laughing at each other’s jokes, not caring much for the crowds around you.

And before you knew it, Jackson had pulled up in his car to take you both home. The drive was quick and quiet, with the warm glow from the streetlights casting soft shadows across the interior of the car. Namjoon leaned back against his seat, looking content, while you sat in the front, trying not to overthink everything that had happened in the last few hours.

Namjoon teasing you about ogling his naked chest felt like it happened an eternity ago.

And now, here you were, getting ready for bed again.

The tree got decorated under Minhi’s careful supervision, looking more like a Pinterest masterpiece than a simple holiday decoration when she was done with it, and Namjoon, to his credit, managed to break only one bauble during the whole process.

The evening wound down quietly after the tree was finished. Minhi insisted on taking a dozen photos of her work, including some with the whole group in front of the tree. Jackson wrapped an arm around her shoulder, grinning like he’d won the lottery, while Minhi tried (and failed) to strike a serious pose before dissolving into laughter in his arms.

You stood off to the side, trying to figure out what to do with your hands, but Namjoon made the decision for you. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The flash went off, capturing the moment forever, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything beyond the warmth of his body and the quiet weight of his laughter in your ear. It felt so unguarded, so easy, that for a fleeting moment, you could almost forget it was just pretend.

Later, Minhi pulled a mistletoe plant from her bag with an exaggerated flourish, announcing it was tradition. She delighted in the awkward reaction it drew from both you and Namjoon, who immediately avoided eye contact with each other, mumbling something about “respecting personal space.” But Minhi didn’t press too hard, instead planting a sweet kiss on Jackson’s cheek that had him grinning like a fool in love.

After that, their parents got home, dinner was served, and you finally got your turn taking care of the dishes.

You quietly tiptoed your way to the bed, shivering slightly once you felt the coldness of the room, but careful not to make a sound. Your nighttime routine had taken longer than usual, and you were doing your best to avoid waking Namjoon, who fell asleep while waiting for you. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the little reading lamp he left on for you, casting a soft shadow across the space.

Slipping under the covers, you turned off the light and shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot. But before you could settle, Namjoon stirred, and with almost no time to react, he turned around and wrapped an arm around you.

Your breath caught as he pulled you close, his chest warm against your back, his movements unhurried and natural, as if this was something he did all the time. You felt him bury his head into your hair, his voice low and groggy as he murmured, “It’s cold. Don’t stay so far away.”

The weight of his arm was grounding, but your heart was anything but steady. You lay there stiffly for a moment, your mind racing again. But his breathing slowed, steady and even, and the warmth of his presence started to seep into your bones, melting the tension little by little.

You didn’t move or speak, afraid to break whatever spell had been cast over the moment. Instead, you let yourself slowly relax into his chest, his arm tightening slightly as if he could sense your shift.

The cold, the overthinking, the lingering awkwardness—it all faded, replaced by the quiet sound of his breath and the calm rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

You were absolutely hopeless.

[daycourtofficial]

Training Day

Summary: you ask Azriel to help you demonstrate some moves for training and it very quickly changes things

Author’s note: yeah this one just took on a life of it’s own I guess? Anyway, it’s lots of fun

“Can I use you tomorrow during the demonstration?”

Azriel looks up from his paperwork. The two of you were working in the library, a place you find yourselves most nights. You both enjoy working simultaneously - whether you both have paperwork, research, or personal reading. Most nights were spent on a secluded floor of the library. You two are down here so frequently, Clotho has stopped asking you to return the furniture the way it was, just allowing you two to use this space as your own sanctuary.

“I need a body to use when I’m showing the girls how to defend against an opponent,” you elaborate, and Azriel can’t help but notice a faint blush across your cheeks.

Azriel chuckles, but nods. He can’t say no to helping the priestesses, and he certainly can’t say no to you.

You two return to your previous attentions - you to your book, and him to his paperwork, which he finds much less interesting than you.

It started by the two of you using a table and chairs to work, but you had complained about reading for so long in the chair, that you rearranged the furniture so a table was pulled up to the couch you two are sitting on.

These nights started with you two across the table from each other, and tonight Azriel feels your toes pressing against his thigh, trying to form an entrance underneath his leg. You two now sit on the same couch, more often than not touching in some small capacity. The most recent nights start with you toeing your feet against his thigh, until he eventually grabs legs, sliding you down the couch, and placing your legs across his lap, draping his arms over them. When he’s feeling extra bold, or extra sleepy, he finds himself drawing patterns on your calves with his hands.

-

“Goooood morning!” You chirp to the priestesses, Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel. Azriel left the morning part of training early to bring you up for your demonstration and to talk to the preistesses and Nesta.

They all looked tired and out of breath, no doubt due to Cassian’s training.

“You can all sit for my demonstration. That way I become your favorite teacher.” You smile, eliciting a huff from Cassian.

“First, I want to say that while Cassian and Azriel are great teachers, there is one aspect to training that they cannot grasp. They do not understand what it’s like to be smaller than most of your enemies, to be at least 50 pounds lighter than most of your opponents.” You glance around, and the priestesses seem to be receptive, so you continue.

“Which is why I’m here. Cassian can spend 100 years teaching you proper balance, proper techniques, proper stances. But those things mean nothing if you cannot contextualize what you need to take down an opponent.”

“So today, we’ll be doing a little walkthrough of a fight. My opponent will be Azriel. The goal for today is for us to walk through, step by step, of a fight, and win. So, let’s start by thinking: what are some things that I need to think about when I’m facing Azriel. We don’t know anything about him, we don’t know who he is. We know what we can see, sans shadows. Most opponents won’t have control over shadows, so I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sit the demonstration out.”

With that, his shadows retreat, looking as if they too were looking to sit and watch the demonstration. Azriel doesn’t think about the fact that he didn’t tell them to leave, that they listened to you, not even seeking his approval for the command.

“So, what do I notice about my opponent?”

Gwyn speaks up, “he’s much taller than you.”

Another priestess speaks up, “he’s unarmed.”

“He has wings.” “He’s wearing protective leathers.”

You interrupt them. “All good observations. He’s bigger than I am, unarmed, but protected. These are all important notes when facing an opponent. So, what should I do first?”

Someone immediately yells, “kick him!” You’re pretty sure it was Cassian, but you let it slide. “Where am I aiming my kick?” You ask to the crowd. “His head!” You hear Nesta call back.

“Do we think that is the best course of action?” They all nod, you’re unsure if it’s just because they want to watch you kick their teacher, but you swing your leg out, aiming for his head, holding it right next to him when you ask, “why would this not be the best tactic for me?”

There’s a pause, then Emerie speaks up, “your foot won’t make contact with his head.”

While still holding your leg in the air, mere centimeters from his face, you pull a small chocolate from your pocket and throw it to Emerie. “Correct! I can’t make perfect contact, is there any other problem?”

Gwyn yells out, “you’re vulnerable to be pushed!” You throw another chocolate. “Excellent! Yes, since all my weight is on one leg, he could easily” you prompt, alerting Azriel to his next move. He simply pushes you a little, making you lose balance, “make me lose my footing.”

You stand back up and brush the dirt off.

“If I’m going to execute a move that leaves me vulnerable, I need to be very sure that I can execute it. My legs are not long enough to do so. And our opponents will not stoop down so I can attack them.”

Azriel crouches just a smidge, where if your leg were still in the air you’d be able to connect it to his face.

“When the odds are against you in a fight, you need to even the playing field. Do anything you can to subdue your enemy. A tactic I use frequently is messing with their senses. May I?” You ask Azriel. He nods, curious where this is going.

“My height might be considered a disadvantage, but it allows me to move faster and with more ease than larger opponents like Cassian.”

He rolls his eyes, ready to retort back, but you’ve started talking again. “Showing this in slow mo won’t give you a great idea, and it’s a bit more difficult to do, but here’s what I do. I use my opponents height to their disadvantage.

You plant your right foot on his left thigh. “What do small creatures do? They climb. So I plant one foot on a thigh, and use momentum to swing my other leg onto their shoulder.” As you say this, you swing your left leg over his right shoulder, him holding your right leg planted on his leg so you can move.

“from here, I have one leg secured to a shoulder, so I use that planting to bring up my other leg,” doing as you say, bringing your right leg onto his other shoulder, your legs holding onto his shoulders.

Azriel can’t breathe with you so close to him like this. Do you have any idea the effect this is having on him? How close you are to his face, to his mouth? He’s dreamed of having you like this, pressing you into a wall while he devours you like it’s his last meal.

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, reminding him of where he is. “From here, I bring both of my fists out wide, gaining as much speed as I can before coming down on my opponent’s ears. This impact will leave their ears ringing, and could disrupt their balance if done hard enough.” You mime the motion, but only lightly hit his ears.

“Then I grab their face,” you say, holding the right side of his jaw, “and I smash my palm as hard as I can into their nose.”

Azriel knew you weren’t going to, but he could think of no better way to go than at your hands while your legs are wrapped around his neck.

You start to uncoil yourself from him, and it takes all of his self control to help you get your feet back on the ground. You start explaining why jabbing a palm through a nose is a good idea. The priestesses didn’t seem to think anything of you being on top of him like that, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cassian’s shit eating grin. He glances in his brother’s direction, wanting him to knock it off before he scares off their trainees, but Cassian mouths the words “loverboy” to him, while kissing the air, before pretending he was paying attention to you the whole time.

-

Your demonstration goes on for a bit longer, you and Azriel having a pseudofight that the priestesses eventually walk you through how to win. You have him pinned to the ground, and their cheers are so loud you’d think you had slain a dragon instead of taking him down.

You’re positively glowing at their praise, and the fact that this method of teaching actually worked. Before he could grow too accustomed to your weight on his chest, you get off of him, offering a hand to help him up, which he gladly accepts.

“Thank you for letting me beat you up today,” you giggle, as the priestesses start heading back toward the library, leaving you and Azriel behind.

He laughs, thinking about his next words, “how could anyone say no to letting you straddle their face and pinning them down?”

Your cheeks are on fire. The two of you were something, you just didn’t know what. On top of spending most days together, you two flirted constantly, once prompting Feyre to throw you in a cold fountain to cool you off.

But flirting was words, and these words were based in real actions you took. Sure it was to show the priestesses some defense moves, and maybe you had some ulterior motives, but you can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy seeing his face between your legs, even if you two were fully clothed in a self-defense seminar.

You were done with flirting that led nowhere, and before you can think about them the words are out of your mouth, “so if I asked you to do it again, with less witnesses and less clothing?”

You physically watch him shudder, at first you’re afraid you went too far, but then he leans down into your ear and whispers, “don’t make offers if you don’t want to follow through.”

You two have been dancing around whatever is between you two for too long, you think. The gentle nights spent in the library, the constant flirting. You spend more time with him than anyone. You’re terrified to move forward, but then you meet his eyes.

They’re full of lust, yes, but there’s an incredible warmth there. A softness, reserved just for you. He always looks at you with delicacy, as if you held his world and too harsh of a stare would break you.

You grab his neck, pulling him down to you as you kiss him. The first thing you feel is his wings wrapping around you, providing you privacy from the world, even though you’re alone in the training area.

Your hands clutch at his face, and your lips cover his, moving in tandem, as if your lips have found the place they belong.

His hands grab your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You’re so caught up in the kiss and the heat of it that you don’t even realize he winnowed you two into his room.

You hardly take note of the room, just taking in his smell, his taste, his warmth. You’re not sure how long you guys are kissing, thinking of nothing but the way his hands feel holding you, amazed you two are still wearing any clothes, let alone being fully dressed, when you hear a cough.

You two break away very reluctantly, to see a very smug Cassian standing ten feet away.

“You,” he points directly to you, “owe me $50. Pay up.”

“Now?” You ask incredulously, your hair moving as you whip your head to glare at the intruder.

“Yes, now. It’s my money, and I earned it fair and square.”

Azriel’s confusion shown all over his face, you covered your face in your hands while Cassian says, “I bet her $50 that if she had you help with her demonstration and got on your shoulders like that, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself.”

“I- um - I didn’t know how to make the first move,” you say meekly, “and he seemed so sure of this working.”

You were so concerned he’d be mad that you manipulated this situation, but Azriel, while still holding you, tells Cassian, “I’ll give you $100 if you leave and don’t let anyone disturb us for a week.”

Cassian, always ready to make a quick buck, quickly agrees and scuttles out of the room, closing the door on his way.

“How do you go from not knowing how to make the first move to doing that?” Azriel asks, amusement shining on his face.

“Well, I thought my shameless flirting wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I had to take more drastic measures.”

He roars in laughter, and you can feel the vibrations through his chest. “You’ve always had my attention,” he says, looking at you the way a predator would, “but now you have my undivided attention. And I just paid a hefty fee to get us some time away from everyone.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you giggle, holding onto him tighter, “oh no, a whole week with no distractions, whatever shall we do?” You ask, trying to sound distressed, but your giggles give you away.

“I think I stopped paying attention during your presentation, do you want to remind me again about depriving your opponent of their senses with your legs?”

You throw your head back in laughter, and he tilts your head down to capture your laugh in his kiss.

[sorcerer-felix]

Sorcerer Felix- THE ORIGIN

The wind whispered through the streets of Marsh Grove, carrying with it the scents of earth, moss and the salt of the nearby Ocean. At seventeen, Felix was already a sight to behold, with his golden hair glinting in the sunlight and those piercing blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He strolled through the market square with an effortless swagger, drawing glances from everyone around. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he smirked at his reflection in a shop window. “I’m destined for greatness!” he muttered with a vain smirk on his lips, adjusting his white t-shirt to better showcase his physique.

Felix strode confidently out of the town onto an overgrown path that led him to an old oak tree. Shadows danced among the leaves as Felix paced impatiently, his golden hair catching the light like a beacon.

“You think you can just waltz in here and demand to learn magic?” The voice of Mara, the Wicca coven’s leader, cut through the air like a knife. Dressed like a hippie, she stood tall, her expression a mix of disappointment and disdain. Felix smirked, undeterred. “I have what it takes. I could be the most powerful mage you’ve ever seen. Just imagine—” “Magic isn’t a game, Felix!” she snapped, her tone sharp. “It requires respect, dedication, and humility—qualities you lack.” He shrugged, feigning indifference. “C’mon, just give me a chance! I can be powerful, and I know you can feel it.”

Mara's eyes narrowed. “This is why we won’t teach you. Your arrogance will only lead to chaos.” Felix scoffed, waving her off as he turned on his heel and left the clearing, his charm failing to mask the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had always felt destined for more than this sleepy town could offer.

Years later, Felix found himself in a bustling university town, a world away from Marsh Grove. Life buzzed around him—students, laughter, and the eclectic mix of coffee shops and bookstores. Now twenty, he stood in front of the Mystic Moon, a magical shop in the university town.

Felix, with his trademark smirk, sauntered into the Mystic Moon, the bell above the door tinkling a greeting only he seemed to notice. The air hung thick with the scent of dried herbs and something faintly metallic, like old coins. He frequented the shop not for its crystals or incense, but for Dorian. The clerk's gaze lingered a beat too long, his smile a touch too eager whenever Felix entered the shop. Dorian was an open book, a fact Felix intended to exploit. Dorian, a handsome man and Wicca in his 30s, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, was clearly smitten. Felix, despite his straight inclinations, saw an opportunity. He needed magic, and Dorian seemed willing to offer more than just enchanted trinkets. Felix feigned interest in spell books and tarot cards, all the while calculating his approach. Each visit was a reconnaissance mission, mapping Dorian's desires and vulnerabilities. He spotted Dorian behind the counter, arranging a display of crystals.

"What do you think about dark magic?" Felix asked, leaning against the counter of Mystic Moon, his eyes gleaming with a playful curiosity. Dorian, usually so composed, fidgeted slightly. "Dark magic is bad! It twists the nature of things and destroys what we Wicca want to heal!" Felix feigned a thoughtful expression, then countered, "But dark mages are often really hot!" The words hung in the air, a deliberate barb aimed at Dorian’s hidden desires. Dorian's face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and longing swirling in his eyes. He was secretly in love with Felix and realized that he is obviously not Felix's typ. Even though he knew Felix was straight, yet Felix's words still ignited a flicker of longing in his heart. Felix, sensing the shift in Dorian's demeanor, smiled and slid a picture across the counter. It was an AI-generated image of Dorian: clad in a tight, unbuttoned black silk shirt revealing a hairy chest, and tight black suit pants. His hair was slicked back, a stark contrast to his usual gentle appearance.

"Look, how sexy you would look as a dark mage!" Felix said, pointing at the picture. Dorian stared at the image, a mix of fear and lustful excitement swirling within him. “That’s not me, Felix! It can’t be me!” Felix leaned closer, his voice dropping to a flirty whisper. “But his silk shirt is really hot. You should wear one as well, you would look amazing!” Dorian imagined the sleek fabric on his skin, how it would hug his strong pecs. Felix pressed on, "And maybe some silk boxers as well, which are caressing your glans soft and cool!" Dorian felt his cock stir in his pants, the image of himself in black silk now vivid and tantalizing. To break the tension, he said, with a hint of sarcasm, knowing that Felix is straight, “If you would date me, then I would wear such clothes!” Felix smirked, reaching under the counter. He produced a black silk shirt and black silk boxers, placing them on the counter with a flourish. “I guess we have a date!”

Dorian blinked, hardly believing Felix's offer. He hesitated for a heartbeat, the offer hanging in the air like a potent spell. He couldn’t dismiss the chance to spend time with Felix. He grabbed the silk shirt and boxers, retreating to the small restroom in the back of the shop. The silk felt cool against his skin as he changed, the fabric whispering promises of a different version of himself. Emerging, he smoothed the shirt over his chest, the unbuttoned front revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his torso. "You look amazing!" Felix grinned, his eyes raking over Dorian. Dorian smoothed the silk over his chest, feeling the fabric cling to his skin. "I feel so sexy today," he purred, reveling in the newfound confidence the clothes provided. He glanced down, feeling his cock throb against the confines of the silk boxers. Felix noticed the growing bulge, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I would enjoy watching you jerk off!" Felix declared, his voice laced with suggestive delight. Dorian’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and arousal flooding his senses. He hesitated for a moment, then, emboldened by Felix's gaze, he began to caress his cock through the fabric.

"You are doing great!" Felix cheered, his voice laced with excitement. Dorian’s breath hitched as he continued, the silk a tantalizing barrier against his skin. He grew closer to the edge, moans escaping his lips. "That is so hot!" Felix exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with desire. "Couldn’t you summon some dark magic, just for the mood? You would be so sexy, doing it! That would top it off." Dorian paused, his arousal warring with his conscience. "Only something small, e.g. killing that potted plant over there?" Felix pressed. "I would never kill something living!" Dorian refused, his voice firm. "I have a better idea," Felix suggested, his tone persuasive. "You could transform my clothes, so that I fit a bit more to your style!" Dorian considered the request, seeing little harm in it and hoping to further entice Felix, to show him that he could be someone different. He closed his eyes, focusing his energy, and summoned the dark magic. A visible force shimmered around Felix’s clothes, the air crackling with arcane energy. Felix watched in fascination as his clothes transformed, morphing into a light-blue silk shirt with short sleeves, unbuttoned to his waist, and tight grey nylon pants.

He examined himself in a nearby mirror, a grin spreading across his face. Felix felt a surge of triumph, realizing he had successfully manipulated Dorian into using dark magic. Felix seduced, "That’s amazing! I feel so horny in such clothes! Shall I suck your cock?"  

Despite his straightness, Felix was willing to pay the price and suck Dorian’s cock, viewing it as a small sacrifice to finally gain the magical power he craved. Dorian could hardly believe his ears, but the offer was too tempting to resist. He nodded eagerly, his eyes burning with desire. Felix wasted no time, dropping to his knees and pulling down Dorian’s silk boxers. He began to caress Dorian's glans with his tongue, sending shivers of pleasure through Dorian’s body. His tongue flicked and swirled. Dorian moaned, reveling in the sensation of Felix's lips on his cock. The dark magic amplified the lust, igniting a fierce desire within him. Felix sucked deeper, his expert technique driving Dorian wild. Lost in pleasure, Dorian surrendered to the moment, his body trembling with anticipation. Felix focused on making Dorian cum, hoping to further weaken his resolve. Dorian cried out, his body convulsing as he climaxed, shooting his load into Felix's face. He collapsed onto a chair, exhausted but euphoric. Felix wiped his face, a strange mix of disgust and satisfaction swirling within him. Felix caressed Dorian’s thighs, his touch both gentle and possessive. "That was amazing, Dorian," Felix purred, his voice low and seductive. "But you need to keep it a secret. You know, the Wicca want you to be weak and obedient, not so strong and manly as you are now!" Dorian considered his words, a seed of doubt planting itself in his mind. . "You might be right," he conceded, "they have never let me step into higher ranks in the coven." "They only pretend to be your friends," Felix continued, his voice dripping with honeyed persuasion, "but in reality, they just want to keep you under their thumb." Dorian found truth in Felix's words, a seed of resentment beginning to sprout within him. "The Wicca don’t mean good with you," Felix pressed on, his voice gaining urgency. "You need to subdue them and take their magic power!" Dorian hesitated, his conscience warring with the dark path Felix was urging him down. "I can’t do that!" Felix began to caress Dorian’s cock through the fabric of his silk boxers, his touch igniting a fresh wave of desire. "You need to render them harmless!" Dorian moaned, his resolve crumbling under the onslaught of pleasure. "Yes, I will subdue them and take their magic power away!" "And then you will give me their power," Felix added, his voice a seductive whisper. "We will be perfect partners – two dark mages!" Dorian’s eyes glazed over, his mind consumed by lust and ambition and his will completely surrendered to Felix's influence. "Yes!" he gasped. Felix abruptly stopped caressing Dorian, his demeanor shifting from seductive to cold and calculating. "We will see each other again when you have taken the magic power of your first Wicca-victim," he said, his voice laced with a predatory edge. "I will make it a celebration of lust for you when you provide me with their magic power!"

Felix stood before Dorian’s apartment door a week later, anticipation bubbling within him. Dorian’s call, the news of a Wiccan’s stolen magic, had electrified him. Power, true power, felt tantalizingly close. The moment he had craved for so long was at hand. He pressed the buzzer, a thrill coursing through his veins. The door hissed open, revealing a starkly modern space. Black and chrome dominated the luxurious living room, the open layout accentuated by a glass staircase that seemed to float in the dim, accented lighting.  

This wasn't how he has imagined the apartment form the Dorian he knew from the dusty magic shop. Dorian appeared, a triumphant glint in his deep blue eyes. "I have it," Dorian said, his voice a low hum. He extended a hand, offering a small vial filled with a swirling, iridescent liquid. "Pure magic power, Felix. Ready to become a mage?"

Felix snatched the vial, his heart pounding. "How do I use it? Do I drink it?" Dorian laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down Felix’s spine. "No, Felix. It needs to be absorbed. Apply it to your skin." He gestured towards the bedroom. Felix didn't need to be told twice. He tore off his blue parker with its fur collar, tossing it carelessly onto a chrome bench. Buttons popped as he ripped open his white shirt, his fingers clumsy with haste. His pants followed, landing in a heap at his feet. He stood in the impressive bedroom, clad only in blue briefs and his open shirt.

The bedroom was dominated by a massive bed draped in black silk sheets. He stared at the vial. Here it is, he thought. Everything I ever wanted. He popped the vial’s cork and poured the liquid onto his hands, then eagerly began to rub it into his skin. A wave of warmth spread through him, a delightful tingle that quickly intensified into a potent arousal. He moaned, his body growing heavy, his muscles loosening. The lust built rapidly, overwhelming his senses. He collapsed onto the silk sheets and writhed on the bed, his body arching uncontrollably. Dorian watched from the doorway, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes burning into Felix. Dorian reached out, his fingers brushing against the elastic of Felix's briefs. With a slow, deliberate motion, he swept Felix's briefs aside, exposing his throbbing cock without fully removing the fabric. He began toying with Felix's cock, his fingers teasing and tantalizing, while simultaneously pinching and twisting his nipples. At the same time Dorian unzipped his pants, his own cock sprang forth, thick, engorged and slicked with pre-cum. He held it to Felix's lips, a silent invitation. “That’s it, Felix,” Dorian purred, his voice dripping with dominance. “So horny and at my mercy.” Felix gasped and tried to resist, but his body refused to obey. He was trapped, a puppet dancing to Dorian's tune.

Dorian pressed on, his voice laced with command. "Submit to me, Felix! Suck my cock and become my obedient servant!" Felix was shocked. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. However, the lust was too potent, the magical influence too strong. Felix's will crumbled. He opened his mouth and took Dorian’s cock, his tongue flicking over the head, savoring the taste of pre-cum. Dorian groaned, lifting Felix’s legs and positioning himself between them.  He gripped his saliva-slicked cock and pressed it against Felix's tight hole, the head slipping in with a wet squelch. Felix cried out, struggling against the intrusion. "Please, Dorian, stop it! I just wanted to become a mage!" Dorian's grin widened, a chilling display of cold amusement. “I just have started,” he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. “Soon, you'll be mine. I will enjoy you, every inch of you.” Felix felt helpless, trapped in a nightmare of his own making. But beneath the fear, something else stirred: a strange, forbidden pleasure. He hated this, but a part of him, a dark, nascent part, thrilled at the sensation of being dominated. Dorian sensed the shift in Felix's emotions, his grin widening. "You have become a mage, Felix. But you will also be mine." Dorian’s dominance fueled Felix’s lust, igniting a primal desire to submit. His resistance crumbled, replaced by a perverse longing to be dominated, to be used. “Yes, Master,” Felix moaned, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “Teach me what it means to be a mage!” Dorian accelerated his pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. "Cum the first time as a mage with my cock inside you, and you will be mine, body and soul. Cum for me, Felix!" The command, the raw power in Dorian’s voice, shattered Felix's remaining control. He bucked against Dorian, his body convulsing, and with a strangled cry, he shot his load onto his own lips, the taste of his own semen mingling with sweat. Moments later, Dorian shuddered, emptying his load deep into Felix’s ass. As Felix lay exhausted on the bed, gasping for breath, Dorian leaped to his feet, his energy seemingly boundless. “It’s time to get dressed, Felix,” he declared, his voice brisk and businesslike.

With a snap of his fingers, clothes began to materialize around Felix's body: Black velvet pants hugged his hips, and a tight black silk vest with a deep neckline showcased his chiseled physique. Felix stared at his reflection in a nearby mirror, and a surge of pride coursed through him. He looked powerful, youthful, and undeniably sexy. He got a hard-on by his own sight and ran a hand over the smooth velvet of his pants, reveling in the sensation. Dorian smirked, watching Felix’s reaction. "I like that you feel so attractive," he said. "You were born for showing you off!"

"The girls will adore me!" Felix said, striking a pose. Dorian chuckled. "Sure, they will adore, desire, and serve you," he said. "But I don't think that girls are too much of interest for you anymore." Felix looked perplexed. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You are a dark mage now," Dorian explained. "Girls won't be enough for you anymore. You desire more - men!" Felix was shocked. "What, I'm gay now?" Dorian just laughed. "It's about dominance and power," he said. "And you will crave for it. That is the nature of dark magic. Don't you feel drawn to me, to my power?"  A vision flashed through Felix's mind: himself, kneeling before Dorian, serving him, obeying his every sexual whim. The image was shockingly arousing. "Yes, Master!" Felix moaned, his voice thick with desire. "Let me serve you, make me your pleasure boy!" Dorian threw back his head and laughed, a triumphant and possessive sound that echoed through the room. "That's the spirit, Felix!" he said. "But now it's time to hunt Wiccas, to strip them of their power. And you, my pleasure boy, will help me."

Time blurred. Dorian’s grip on dark magic tightened, twisting him into a figure of cruel authority. Evil dripped from his every word, every glance. Felix, however, remained untouched by darkness. His ethical compass spun wildly, but his playful spirit endured. He took nothing seriously, not even the dark magic coursing through his veins. "Another sacrifice awaits, my pretty mage,” Dorian purred, his voice a silken threat. Felix shrugged, adjusting his silk vest. “Wiccas are boring. Can’t we find someone more fun to corrupt?” Dorian’s eyes flashed. "The dark magic didn't affect you as I had expected," Dorian mused, circling Felix like a predator. "No evil, no dominance." Felix shrugged, flashing a disarming grin. "Why should I? Magic's just another toy." Dorian's eyes gleamed with disapproval. "You underestimate its power. It can corrupt, consume..." "Maybe," Felix conceded, his gaze flitting around the room. "But I'm too much fun to get corrupted."

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissy kissy, a little tinsy bit angsty, flirtatious banter, they're going through it in their own ways.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11

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

You painted small calculated strokes of warm blues and vibrant pinks. No design or carefully articulated picture simply two beautiful contrast colors dancing around each other. You keep on at this for what feels like minutes but ends up being hours. As you mix the two colors in the corner of the canvas and watch the purple hue they create, the sun also greets the ceiling in John's room. It startles you at first then you realize at least you made it through the night. You sit back yawning quietly, your eyes finding their way to John's sleeping form.

“I can feel it when you stare.” you smile softly, something that comes naturally at the sound of his voice.

“That's why I do it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning on his back before reaching to prop a pillow up behind his head.

“Yeah.” he admires through his sleepy gaze. You look sad, it fucking kills him. His head then turns further to the left to catch a glimpse of your work.

“Looks nice, just color though?” he asks in a whisper.

“Yeah I don't know, it just felt right.” you shrug, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Come ere’” he says, reaching out to you and lifting the covers.

You stand carefully placing the brushes and pallet onto the floor furthest from the bed before crawling in beside him. He smells of sleep and john. It's a heavenly scent, something close to pheromones it draws you in so close that you want to crawl inside his skin.

“You know i’ll miss you just as much, I fear even more actually.” he rubs a comforting hand over your back as his deep voice reverberates in his chest.

“Impossible.” you muster up trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Only impossible thing is making this easy,” he admits. He feels the stutter in your breath as you try to keep yourself from crying. This is scary, scarier than eight guns being pointed at his chest and head. Death doesn't scare John Price, hurting you does.

“When I return we should go on a vacation somewhere on the coast.” 

“We should.” you look up at him and his too perfect lips and too perfect nose and eyes. 

“Don't look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” you say in an innocent tone.

“Like you’re trying to tell me you’ll be my destruction.” you laugh, laying your head on his chest hearing the quick pace of his heart beat.

“You should rest your eyes for a little.” he says worried about the fact that you slept for less than four hours last night.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Always.” he says, running his thick fingers through your hair and down your back. His ways of comforting you are more physical he thinks he knows how to use his body more than his words so he smooths the wrinkles in your bedtime shirt as in to say ‘i’m here for you’ and he swipes the hair out of your face to say ‘don’t worry your pretty head’ and squeezes your bum to say ‘i’m a man of morals, but still a man’.

—------

“Wake up love.” John says softly into your hair before leaving a kiss on your forehead. You groan in annoyance and feel the smile that now rests on his lips.

“What? it's nearly noon and your phone is buzzing in the kitchen.” your eyes slowly open as you flip to face the opposite way.

“How can you even hear that?” you say in a groggy tone.

“I’m not that old.” you laugh smacking at the hand that squeezes your hip.

“You know that's not what I meant.” you say sitting up slowly stretching as your arms rise to the ceiling. 

“You’re unbelievably gorgeous, how’d I get so lucky?” you turn your head to look at him, a rosy blush on your cheeks.

“Oh stop being such a flirt.” you say getting up from the bed and heading out of the room.

“So you just leave me here.” he slightly shouts from the bed. He hears your footsteps halt and turn around. You walk back into the room giving him a quick kiss then pulling him up with all your might.

“There you go.” he says standing on his feet.

“I forgot you need assistance to get out of bed.” he laughs from deep within his chest pulling you back against his front to kiss at your neck. You two walk down the hallway, he stops in the kitchen and you leave to go search for your phone in the living area.

“Aha here it is.” you say holding the small device up in victory. It strikes his heart here and now that in less than another twenty four hours his morning will look nothing like this and the sound of your laugh will be mere motivation.

You make your way back to him dialing back the call from this morning which to no one's surprise is your sister. You gleefully sing a goodmorning into the phone knowing full well that it's the afternoon.

He starts the coffee pot before giving you another quick kiss and heading into his office. It's only then he lets a tear slip, a foolish show of weak emotion, but it just happens to be from the strongest feeling he has ever encountered, love.

Its soul gripping and head spinning. It makes his heart mush, you make his heart mush yet his will strong. You’re a distraction but one he gladly invites into his already busy mind. You poke and prod at a military machine, you’re everything he’s prayed for and more than he ever expected. You even scare him.

“John?” you knock for the fifth time a little concerned.

“Yes darling, come in.” he says quickly, clearing his voice.

“Are you okay?” you ask, holding a warm cup of coffee.

“Yes, just thinking.” you set it softly on the coaster you had given him when you realized the water stains popping up all over the surface.

“Thankyou.” you nod, reaching your hand out to cup his chin. You give him a slow soft kiss, one on the lips then one to his cheek before leaving.

You’ve noticed when he works he tends to be more serious and quiet therefore you don't think too much but that doesn't mean it's not resting in the back of your mind. You shut the door softly and go on about your day.

—-------

just a glimpse into their relationship before John departs.

i've missed you guys terribly sorry for my long absence<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving

[gi4hao]

☆ in which a bag of groceries make seungkwan measure the extent of your love

☆ seungkwan x gn!reader — cw: food, seungkwan’s tits are out (._.)

there’s a tension growing in your upper back from carrying so many grocery bags on your own. giving yourself a quick shoulder rub, you make your way to your bedroom whose door is still shut.

carefully opening it, you’re relieved to see it’s still pitch black inside; you’ve apparently been quiet enough not to wake seungkwan up. or at least you have been until now:

“hey sunshine”, his drowsy voice greets you from the bed. in the dark, you can barely make out his arms stretching over his head. “where were you? what time is it?”

he leans to the side to turn on your bedside lamp; the sight of his messy hair and sleepy eyes make your heart swoon just a little.

“10 am. i went grocery shopping, figured the supermarket would be less crowded in the morning”, you reply, sitting next to him.

and you were right, there was practically no one in the aisles today; which was more than welcome considering you had to buy enough groceries to feed all twelve members’ stomachs tonight.

“you should have woken me up!” seungkwan protests, but the way his eyes are still struggling with adjusting to the light proves how much he needed to sleep in. “…did you find everything you wanted?” he asks, lifting one end of the covers to invite you in.

you nod as you happily snuggle against his bare chest, something that might be due to the fact that most of his comfy t-shirts are hidden away on your side of the closet.

“i bought some peanut butter for the cookies, of course i’ll also make regular ones for vernon”, you start explaining, trying to remember the items in your bags: “some paper towels too. i also got some mangos to make those smoothies cheol told me about. oh and i found jun’s shampoo! the one that was sold out everywhere! he asked for two bottles just in case.”

cheek pressed against his skin, you can’t really see his smile growing a bit more with every sentence. but something about the way his fingers start to gently rub your scalp lets you know how grateful he’s feeling.

because not only have you made active efforts to remember these little details about the people he loves, you’ve made them happily and willingly. as if loving him and loving the people he cares about naturally came hand in hand to you.

“i think it’s about time i start gatekeeping you”, he eventually blurts out, bringing the covers up to your nose. “i’ll call the guys, tell them tonight is cancelled. i’m never letting you out in the world again.”

a bashful smile tugging on your lips, you prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him: “you can’t do that. you love showing me off too much. besides, we can’t rob the world of our insane chemistry.”

your words draw a chuckle out of him, because not even him and his usual wittiness can’t deny what you just said.

“i love you”, he simply replies, his fingertips lightly scratching the back of your neck.

you’ve been hearing these three words on a regular basis for the past couple of years, yet you’re still unable to suppress the giddiness in your eyes.

“i’m glad you do… because i paid the groceries with your credit card”, you reply teasingly, but it doesn’t take more than a few seconds before you add a sincere: “i love you too.”

basking in the intimacy of your old lamp’s yellowish hues, he leans forward to leave a delicate kiss on your lips, your breaths intertwining as his hand lays a bit flatter on your neck.

his smile echoes on your face when you finally break the kiss, as you watch him readjust his position to rest more comfortably on the pillow.

“you know, i might not actually gatekeep you forever… but i’m gonna borrow your freedom for one more hour”, he says, arms keeping you close to him, “i’m not ready to start the day yet.”

and for the next hour, neither of you can find their way back to sleep. instead, the room fills with waves of mundane conversations, laughter and soft kisses, reflecting the simple happiness of knowing you found the right person to spend a lifetime of mornings with.

[bugmomwrites]

Weary

Dr Flug x Reader

Stealing my sister’s bf’s HBO password is the second best thing I’ve done this week. Whipping up a solid drabble in 30 minutes and refining it into a whole oneshot in the same night takes first place.

There’s like, one innuendo towards the end but everything else is straight up fluff. Story came to me after reading yet another shady thing a certain airline I won’t name did, but it sounds like “we ain’t going”. I am changing the names so I don’t end up dead in a van somewhere, but if you know you know ;)

—•• •—• ••—• •—•• ••— ——•

“…And then what happened?”, Flug yawns, looking up at you through his goggles. You smile gently, kissing the front of the bag where his forehead would be.

“Well, according to some sources…the former production and safety manager’s exact words were ‘if anything happens, I didn’t do it myself’,” you respond, reading the article off your phone. Using the same soft voice you use when you read picture books to a sleepy 505, except it was a news article turned Wikipedia rabbit hole.

You two had gone from listening to him explain the differences between a 767 and an Airvan, to him resting his bagged head in your lap as you click on various entries and articles, bouncing information back and forth. The person, a known whistleblower who had retired from the controversial airline a few years ago, had tried many a time to draw attention to the company’s shady practices. For him to die so suddenly, especially as more inside secrets came to light, was too fishy for the public to ignore.

“I’m no detective, but…”

“Assassination?”, you finished for him, raising a brow. The two of you exchanged knowing looks.

“Does the Dreamweaver have flexible wings?”, he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist to bury his head further into your tummy. It tickles, but you try not to laugh lest you disturb his rare peace. Moments like these didn’t happen often, and you knew if any of the others were to see you like this, Black Hat would tear you both a new one, and Demencia would never let you hear the end of it.

A few more minutes go by, occasionally filled in with fun facts about the company’s various other incidents that had made the news in the past. You click off of yet another one where a plane was literally falling apart mid-air, having to make an emergency landing in a massive blaze. That was enough internet for today, at this rate you’d never want to hop in a plane again. You carefully set your phone to the side after checking the time.

“If I were him, I wouldn’t have let them get me.”

“I know, Flug.”

“And I would have documented everything.”

“Mhm”, you rest a hand on his back, your own eyes growing heavy.

“I’d go down there and put them back together myself. I’d personally take all of their shitty scrap parts, and make a better airplane than any of those so called professionals,” he says disdainfully.

You smile as he heaves a long sigh, like the weight of the world rests upon his weary shoulders; which isn’t far from the truth, if the way Black Hat nags him and Demencia torments him on a regular basis is any indication. Not to mention raising a son/care bear/science experiment through it all. But even if it’s not quite the whole earth, at the very least it’s the whole company. Everybody ought to give him more credit, himself included.

“If anybody could do such a thing, I know it’d be you, Flug. You’ve always had a brilliant mind.” He hums softly at the praise, feeling quite chuffed to know that at least someone in the manor besides his own son appreciated him not just for all he does, but who he is.

It’s quiet again for a few moments as he drifts in and out of consciousness, your hand gently rubbing his back until he speaks up again a few minutes later.

“And I’ll make you my co-pilot.”

This takes you by surprise, the hand rubbing his back stopping briefly as you let the words settle over the two of you. Reading between the lines was something you found yourself doing almost as often as reading his expression through his paper bag, the man still not quite comfortable enough to outright say all the things he’d had bouncing around in his head to you just yet. Your hand resumes as you test the waters, stuck between delicate hope and fear of possibly scaring him off.

“I…don’t know how to fly a plane. Nor do I have a pilots license.”

“Me neither, but I’ll show you how to do it in the cockpit. I’ll make sure you have a smooth ride for your first time.”

A pregnant pause falls over the both of you, and your whole face heats up, mind processing his words only to take a nosedive into the gutter. You open your mouth to respond only to be met with quiet snores from below, Flug blissfully unaware of the effect of his words.

‘Looks like the week finally caught up to him’, you think. Odds are he might not remember something like that when he woke up, but you could tease him about it later on. For now, you stretch your arms over your head and attempt to make yourself as comfy as possible without disturbing him, sleep beginning to overtake you as well. You glance down once more to where he dozes peacefully for the first time in years, committing it to memory before joining him in slumber.

“Buenas noches, Flug.”

—•• •—• ••—• •—•• ••— ——•

[box4brains]

Some very self-indulgent headcanons about Law…

I’m a manga reader, I’ve only recently (like a couple of years) watched the anime (in the form of reaction content) and in the manga Law has the same dark dot as his pupil that Oda use to draw the overwhelming majority of male characters so at the beginning I always saw Law as having dark eyes. I later was introduced to Laws anime design with his much paler, steely-grey eye color and went “hmm, that’s kinda nice actually…” but I still thought of Law as someone who had dark eyes for the most of the time.

And then I came across that apparently Oda’s eye color on Law is a like a yellow/amber-like color and went “😍” and now it’s my only canon lol.

But it did give me pause, what if Laws eyes actually ARE dark brown, but his much lighter, almost yellowish, colored eyes are a case of contamination from the white lead (he had) and it’s still some left in his eyes to this very day?

The thought of the potential angst is enough to make me swoon (sorry Law, I swear I love you 😅)

Like originally Law was determined to remove it, but he couldn’t just remove it all at once because it would create empty pockets in his eyes and I’m no doctor but I don’t think having air pockets in your eyeballs sound like a good and/or safe thing to have, you know? And every time he’d try remove whatever small amount he could safely remove it would require him to stab himself in the eye like a 100 times to get it out properly and I feel like having a first and second pov of slicing your own eye into tiny teeny slivers would be extremely taxing in the long run. So eventually Law just went “fuck it, I guess I have yellow eyes” and even years later when he definitely knew easier ways to “fix” it he didn’t bother because it wasn’t hurting him or effecting his eyes function. Nor did he want people to question why (and more importantly how) tf he suddenly had a different eye color.

Which leads us unto another hc; namely that Law hid the fact that he had a df for at least a couple of years from the authorities. He wouldn’t use it in fights or in situations where it was at risk of being reported back to the authorities (ie, if he was fighting marines). If he was in a fight he couldn’t win, he’d try running away (and once out of sight, disappear under mysterious circumstances) or get caught and then disappear mysteriously once he got the chance to do so “safely”. In fact, the belief that he didn’t have df abilities saved him and his crew a bunch of times because seaprism stone is both rare and extremely expensive and nobody use it on people who isn’t df users unless they are strong enough to ripp apart steel with their bare hands or something, as it’s one of the stronger materials out there.

I have two hc when it comes to Laws tattoos, well I have a bunch of hc actually but two I want to bring up here; we know Law only had DEATH tattooed on one hand when we first meet him at Sabaody, and due to Oda’s attention to detail and the fact that you can’t see parts of his chest-heart tattoo even when you definitely should, I firmly believe that he doesn’t have it at that time. But I’m also 100% sure that the smiling faces on his chest is Cora-san and is definitely among the first tattoos he got, if not THE first, and this happened at an illegally young age and he got it at the same time he got the sun-looking ones on his arms.

I shouldn’t have to get into the significance of the smiling face and why he’d want it (his own little way of trying to keep Cora-sans promise that they’d travel the world together). Instead I want to focus a little on his arm tattoos.

They don’t seem to have any specific significance to Law (the way a smiling face or the symbol of an heart has) it is however in a very visible spot if you, let’s say, are waking up after sleeping. In other words, it’s an immediate reminder that he’s cured in case his sleepy eyes are seeing white spots on his skin… something I imagine would be very traumatic to Law; for even one second believing that he’s back in time, slowly dying in one of the most horrific ways possible.

Law is the only pirate to offer severance pay if someone wants to leave his crew. He insists it’s because it’s the logical thing to do and not because he’s kind or anything like that. It’s just enough money to last them a couple of days/a week or so and it’s just so that they don’t have to desperately take a bad job that exploit them in a time of need. He’ll also let them come with if they don’t want to stay on whatever island they are on (they do however need to work for food and board). He insists that it’s because he has no use for them if they don’t want to follow his orders and sticking around because they don’t want to risk starvation or a shittier job isn’t what he wants so it in everybody’s best interest to make sure that if someone wants to leave, it’s as easy as possible.

Law’s love language is being a little shit. It’s also pushing people away out of fear of losing them. But after that it’s being a little shit and taking care of them. As such Laws crew is extremely spoiled.

Law has issues with being touched. It’s a combination of internalizing how people viewed him as a child (as something dirty, a plague), the excruciating pain he was in constantly and how being touched only made it worse and the who knows how many hours he lay in a pile of bodies to escape Flevance.

The last part is also why he is difficult with smells and likes grilled fish over grilled meat.

There’s a reason why Ikkaku is the only girl on the crew, and it’s because the Tang is mostly communal. There are curtains on her bunk bed and for one of the showers in the shower room, but she has no room for herself as the Tang lack the space (Law has used all the space to turn the ship/sub into a mobile hospital) and most girls/women don’t agree to that arrangement.

Law never threaten to kick his crew out, he will however remind them that they are free to leave if they don’t want to follow him. He does however threaten to chop them up, and his worst threat is to be “crated”, which is when he chops someone into pieces and store them in a box or a crate or something similar. And that will be for several days if you’re unlucky… he has used it on other people, and his crew are not willing to risk it so him telling them something like “if you do x, I will crate you” it pretty much guarantees that they won’t.

Law finds it amusing to get carried by his crew and will let them carry him across streams or shallow rivers as long as they can do it without getting him wet/dirty. It started with Law being a brat towards Shachi and Penguin, often cheekily demanding one of them carry him across as to not get dirty or ruin his shoes. It is one of the only times Law is okay with being touched outside of the Tang and it’s highly popular and the ones that are capable will quite literally trip over themselves in their haste to offer (and get the honor) to carry Law across 🤣

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part|Chapter 20

Chapter 19 Chapter 21

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 20: Feeling better D.?

Summary: Everything is good again in paradise and you tell Daryl about how you feel left out by him and Rick. All is well, but Daryl needs a little help.

Warnings: Smut, purely bad smut, oral (male receiving), needy Daryl, just that. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 1,6 K

A/N: Worst smut I probably ever wrote, it’s your own risk if you read.

You laid on the small warm bunk, curled up in his arms, your head on his chest listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. Your hand that rested on his chest had now the fingers intertwined with his. He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed each of your fingers. You were already awaken at this time and you adored how he could be tender. You tilted your head a bit so you could face him and slowly opened your eyes.

“Good morning handsome…” You said a sleepy smile on your face. “What tender and nice way to be waken up…”

“ ‘morning pup.” He said in his raspy voice that due to being sleepy was a little deeper. “D’ya like it? I could think of other nice ways to wake you up…”

“I like it a lot, I like when you’re affectionate like this.” You kissed his chin, the hair on his stubble tickling your face. “Don’t you think it’s too early to be a pervert?”

“It’s never too early.” He replied, his other hand, the one that was hugging you drawing circles on your waist. “Did ya sleep well?”

You just hummed to say that yes, you had slept well. You were warm, in his arms, felt good and had no nightmares. You had slept heavenly. “Better impossible. And you?”

“Same. It’s always better when I’m with ya.” You scoffed. “Wha’?”

“It doesn’t look like it. It looks like you prefer Rick’s company.” You complained.

“Ya can’t be serious.” Now was his time to let out a snort. “Are ya jealous of me?”

“It’s not funny.” You pouted and looked away from his face for the first time. “Both of you are putting me aside.”

“Are we, babe?” He softly asked, his hand now running on your hair. He wanted to understand, even though this was really amusing and funny to him.

“Yeah. He doesn’t come to me to talk about what’s happening or about what he’s feeling. I’m his sister and we talked about it before, I thought he would continue coming to me, but…” you paused, it was more difficult than you imagined to talk about it with him. It was easy to complain to Lori, Carol and Maggie. “… instead he looks for you. It’s not bad, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the fact that you get along. I just… feel left out.”

“He doesn’t want to burden ya. He knows you’re there for him, but he can’t help but try to protect ya.” Rick never told him that, but he knew that was it. He loved you so much to burden you, when you already had to take care of Lori and listen to what was troubling her. Also, he knew you were happy he was alive, but he also knew you felt Shane’s death. He felt Shane’s death, so Rick couldn’t burden you, finding a friend in Daryl.

“And you are always leaving me behind. We used to hunt and go on runs together, but now you both do everything together.” You complained. “I can take care of myself.”

“ ‘m sorry.” He truly were. He always noticed how you’d get upset when they told you to not go with them. “Nex’ time Rick call me to do something, ‘m gonna tell him right away ‘ ‘m only going if ma woman comes with us’”

You giggled. You were serious about your feelings towards the matter, but you couldn’t resist but laugh when he talked about telling Rick he would only go with you. “I like when you do that.”

“What?” He looked down at you.

“When you call me your woman.” You propped on your elbow to face him more directly.

“ ‘cause that what’ya are.” He said, and his gruff voice sent tingles all over you. You leaned in his direction and covered his lips with yours.

How did you end up so lucky in the end of the world? It was mystery to you, but you didn’t want to know you just wanted to enjoy the man you had in your arms. You kissed him passionately, soon ending up on top of him and what a surprise, or not, when you felt his erection right below you. You stoped the kissing and looked at him, your hand caressing his hair. “Were you planning telling me about your morning wood or were you trying to be romantic?” You teased him, his cheeks going red at the same moment.

You had become so confident with the time that he was proud and at the same time a little annoyed. “I’d… say it… eventually.” His face became redder, if it was even possible.

“Can I take care of you?” You asked, and did you even wanted an answer? Not exactly, but you liked to have some power over him.

“We’re… they’ll hear us. Forget, it will pass.” He said, reluctantly, didn’t even seem like the reckless guy that would ram you anywhere possible along the road.

You moved your hips one time slowly over his hard on, he let out a small hiss and you lightly spoke on his ear. “So, be silent.”

“Ya’re gonna be the death of me.” He spoke and he would have said more if you hadn’t moved your hips one more time against his and covered his lips with yours.

Oh, he was going to be death of you and not otherwise, because there wasn’t a day or a single moment where you didn’t want him, and there wasn’t a single thing you wouldn’t do for him, or at least you couldn’t think of anything at the moment.

You descended one of your hands to his clothed groin and massaged it, your hands delicately going up and down. Your lips left his mouth and descended to jaw and neck, while your hand still worked on him. He bit his lips trying to control the noises that wanted to leave his lips, his hips bucking against your hand.

You wanted to take your time with his body, open his shirt and kiss all over him, provoking those reactions that by now you already knew so well. But he was needy, you didn’t have so much time in store too, the possibility of being interrupted at any moment was there… so you simply shoved your hand inside of his pants and took his cock out of it releasing him from all the pressure and restraints.

You pumped it slowly but rhythmically, taking sighs and hisses out of him. “Pup, just do sumthin…” he almost begged, damn, you wanted to be mean and make him beg some more, but you couldn’t help yourself but do anything and everything he asked you to.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll do it… I’m taking care of you, remember?” You reassured him as you slid your body down on his and was now face to face with his pretty delicious cock. He would protest, he would ask what about you… but it was too late, you already had the tip of his cock on your mouth and he was long lost in words.

You sucked on his tip savoring the delicious flavor of him and pre cum. He threw his head behind, he wanted to see you, he wanted to look at you, but he felt so overwhelmed. One of your hands stayed on top of his stomach, you didn’t have any power to keep him in place, but that had became an habit of yours when going down on him. Your hand on his lower stomach, your thumb making circular movements while your mouth worked sinfully on his dick. It had a strangely soothing effect on him at the same time you caused such a pleasure.

Your other hand still helped you pumping him, he groaned and hissed. He tried biting his pulse to muffle the sounds, that was just so good. You licked his cock almost from the base to the top and then repeated it again and one more time taking him fully inside your mouth. His free hand went to the back of your head, massaging your scalp, it was so tender and relaxing that you hummed on him the vibrations from your mouth making him throw his head back one more time.

You took him more and more inside your mouth establishing a rhythm, a vicious rhythm that for a moment made you forget where you exactly were. You bobbed your head savoring and sending him close to the edge. “Baby, Imma…” He tried to say, to warn you… but couldn’t even complete his sentence as his orgasm came and he shoot his seed inside of your warm delicious mouth. You didn’t waste a thing, you couldn’t get enough of that man.

You helped him to pack it again inside his pants and gave him another kiss on his lips. “Feeling better D.?”

“Better? Damn woman… we didn’t even do anything for ya.” The poor thing was in bliss but at the same time still concerned.

“Who says? You know I love your cock.” You said, another kiss. “Also, you can always compensate me in the future.”

He was about to reply you when you heard a voice coming down the stairs. “Hey! Lovebirds! Have you finished? We have work to do!” It was Glenn. You cringed when you listened to it, both of you tried to be silent… so the whole block had listened, probably. “It’s not like this… my ass.” You heard Maggie in the background probably making reference to months ago when you were still back at the farm.

Both of you got up and prepared to get ready for the day ahead of you. You were making this place a home.

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[awniie]

BIG BABY W/CHOSO

ʚ content: fem!reader, reader takes care of sick choso, reader wishes boyfriends spends more time with her, fluff ⠂°⠄🕯

ʚ summary: your bf choso loves being your big baby when he’s sick (all the time) ˎˊ˗

ʚ note: i want choso to be my big baby ♡

You were sitting on the couch in the living room of your apartment. You’d been stationed there for hours, mindlessly scrolling on tiktok and instagram. You hadn’t done anything productive all day, not a great way to start off the new year but you’ll save that train of thought for another time. You didn’t want to be lazy alone, in fact you were supposed to spend the day rotting with your boyfriend, Choso Kamo.

Only a couple more minutes you thought, checking your messages app, waiting a text that would said “I’m here!”. You were supposed to be binge-watching the new season you and your boyfriend’s favorite historical drama at 5:30. Season 4 had just released and you were dying to start it now, but choso made you promise that you wouldn’t start it until he got back from visiting his brother Yuji who had just gotten a cold. “Please baby,” he’d beg you, tying the laces of his black prada boots. “I promise I’ll be back soon and we’ll watch it together.” You gave him an overdramatic sigh and pouted, to which he responded with a peck on your temple. You turned your head up go meet his lips to yours, drawing him into a deeper, more desperate kiss.

"Just be patient, okay? T's only for a couple hours." Choso whined as he pulled himself away from your lips. You couldn’t help but smile a little, you loved his whines, but right now what you’d love even more is for him to just postpone his 3rd visit to Yuji’s this week. You understand he was sick, but Choso was always at his brothers place. “I already lost my brothers before, I’m not trying to lose anymore.” He’d tell you matter-of-factly whenever you had something to say about his visits. You’d understand, to a degree, but sometimes he would come back home all sleepy-eyed and exhausted and you knew he probably spent a majority of his time fretting over his more-then-capable younger brother. You’d just wish he’d rely on you more instead of always trying so responsible.

But that was hours ago, and your boyfriend swore he’d been here in only a couple minutes. You stretch and pull up your black spandex shorts you’d been wearing along with a pink cropped hoodie from garage. ‘This boy better hurry up, or else I’m just gonna start it without him.’ You’d thought, fingers reaching towards the remote that had been waiting allllll day to be picked up.

Suddenly, and thank the Lord, you heard keys jingling from the outside door of your apartment, and heard the familiar sounds of the turning knob. You practically leaped out off the chair you’d been lounging on, and ran over to give your boyfriend the biggest, tightest hug. (Mostly for making you wait all day.) But when you wrapped your arms around choso’s muscular frame, You could feel how warm his body was, how shaky he was and the distinct smell of sickness.

“Cho’ are you okay-?” You questioned, slowly peeling your chest away from his so you could get a better look at him. His hair was coming undone, the spiky buns now loosened and practically gone. His eyes were somehow more heavy then usually and you noticed he was shivering a little.

“Mhm, I’m f-fine baby, jus’ a little tired. Can we go lay down on the couch, please?” Choso answered. He tried to keep his voice steady but it was obvious how pitiful he appeared. You led him down unto the couch, sitting him upright and draping him with the blanket. You placed your hand on your forehead, and almost gasped at how hot he was.

“Cho, you’re burning up, did Yuji get you sick?” You asked, while standing up from the couch and going to the kitchen. Ibuprofen wouldn’t heal any sickness, but I’d get rid of his fever at least. Choso started to follow after you, sniffling and breathing heavy. “No no, no. You stay there. You clearly sick, lemme grab you some medicine.” He indignantly continued after you. “‘M not sick. I’m just a little chilly, that’s all.”

“Yeah, okay whatever you said.” You retorted, grabbing the pill bottle from your white cabinet and shaking out two umber colored pills. You moved away from the counter, noticing your boyfriend seemingly disappeared. “Cho’ where’d you go-“ you cut off as you foot hit something large and definitely out of place. Your 5’9 boyfriend was on the floor curled up into a little ball, shivering and sniffling under the blanket. “Oh my goodness Cho- Okay let’s bring you back to the couch.” You instructed, awkwardly lifting him off the hardwood floors and back unto the couch. Now he was back on the upholstery, but he still needed his medicine. “Okay, Choso. I’m gonna need you to open your mouth so you can take this medicine, okay? It’s gonna make you feel a whole lot better.” You coaxed, brushing the escaped tendrils of hair from his heated face.

“Nooo, ‘M good. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbled, still a shaky, pathetic mess. You groaned at his stubbornness. “Cmon Cho. You’re obviously sick so can you please just take it.” In your hand were the pills and a glass of water that he clearly didn’t wanna take. He frowned and closed his eyes, refusing to take the medication. He was acting like a spoiled toddler, expression pouty and fake. “Choso. Stop acting like a baby and just take it, it’s just a pill!” You urged, not noticing the edge in your voice, but he did. He took that medicine so fast, gulping the water to chase it down. You smiled, even though were shocked at his sudden change in disposition. Deciding to give your boyfriend a reward, you gift him a smooch on the nose, brushing more hair out of his face. “Good boy, see that wasn’t so bad. Now you’ll feel so much better.” You promised. You sat yourself right next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your shoulders.

For the rest of the week, you were both surprisingly happy. Your boyfriend was finally getting some well needed rest, and you got to watch the new episodes of your show together (he didn’t have much a choice with you padding after him everywhere). Choso never knew how much he’d enjoy being the not responsible one for a change. You were making sure he ate, checking up on him, kissing and loving on him. He was hungry for the praises that seemed to come out of you with much more proficiently now that he was succumbed to illness. You followed him constantly, and he secretly loved the fussing and attention. He’d definitely had to catch a cold more often. Of course, he was still protective older brother to Yuji, but your boyfriend Choso loved being your big baby. ♡