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sugawhaaa · 3 days ago

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JEONGIN SMUT HEADCANONS

Sex with Jeongin would...

[Dom ver]

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, oral, fingering, BDSM, spit play, sweat fetish, auralism, probably more I forget 😭

Pairing:: dom!jeongin x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: I accidentally used the same photo twice but...Shh I'm too lazy to re-edit the thingy. Also the tiles for each section are a little vague, it's just for the vibes

Skz masterlist:: 🎀

🎧::

Feel like::

☆-Jeongin is a sucker for deep and fast sex...like listen Jeongin can be impatient as hell and he just needs to get in there yk what I mean?

☆-I can see him being a bit of a tease with this like when he first goes inside he waits like a few second before just putting in all of his pent up lust into pounding into you.

☆-Jeongin has been getting big asf lately and I can see him kinda having a size kink, ofc in the sense that he's bigger than you, so doing things like lifting you by your hips or guiding your body by the waist is totally his thing.

☆-Messy kisses with a fuck ton of tongue while fucking you 😫

☆-he likes to put his hands around your face and neck area. Not deliberately choking but just asserting his control, you know? Also making a mess of your spit, dipping his fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them.

☆-some spanking every now and then ^^

☆-He loves to roam his hands all over your body, your tits, thighs, ass, tummy, back, wherever he has access to his hands are gently massaging.

☆-hes so gentle when taking your clothes off ggrrr but once in a blue moon he doesn't give a fuck, he needs you naked right fucking now.

☆-You'll find his fingers in your hair quite often. Sometimes it's to pull your head back and add just a twinge of pain or other times it's just to ground himself and pull your head closer to kiss you deeper.

☆-his fingers are so long and feel perfect against or in your body. He'd use this kind of method where he sorts through your folds with his fingers by gently gliding his finger down the seam of your pussy.

☆-his fingers also hit very deep inside you to the point he has to curl his fingers so he doesn't hurt you <3

☆-hes not very into anal or anything but he would like to put a vibrator in one of the two holes and then fuck the other 😩🤌

Sound like::

☆-this man loves dirty talk so much that he is just rambling and rambling the entire time in between moans and cries. He'd say all kinds of kinky things you wouldn't imagine him to say but...he does have a freaky side.

☆-"I love it when you make that pretty face" "stick your tongue out," "awh is my baby crying?" "Shh, it's okay, you can cum soon,"

☆-He really likes hearing the sounds of your bodies colliding in anyway, the sound of your tongues dancing, the bed creaking, his hips slapping against your ass, his tongue sorting through your folds, and the sounds you make when you suck him off 😩

☆-sometimes he'll play music in the background to set the mood as well, something lofi and more relaxing than sexual unless, of course, it's one of those real freaky nights.

☆-wet noises <3 when he fingers your wet pussy so deep and he can hear your arousal sorting through his fingers.

☆-hearing your moans is his favorite thing ever, he does anything and everything to make you moan louder and higher pitched.

☆-as I mentioned earlier he is a deep and fast kinda guy so you best believe the bedframe is often begging for mercy 😁 (imagine the headboard hitting against the wall all night while the members are just trying to sleep)

☆-whispering dirty words to you <3

☆-he curses a lot during sex, though he kind of feels bad about it. He wants to keep it romantic and passionate but when your walls hug him so tightly and your nails are digging into his back he can't hold back.

☆-"Oh fuck baby," "shit I'm close!" "God damn baby, you suck me so fucking good,"

☆-I can see Jeongin making a mix of noises between grunts, moans, growls, and so on, you get the point. He's very vocal though, loud and passionate, he doesn't hold back a thing.

☆-he isn't too into daddy type tropes but he does love calling you all kinds of things that make you feel small, like babygirl, darling, princess, etc. However he is into calling you mommy 👀 but that's for the next part

☆-basically to sum up this section, sex with Jeongin is loud and he loves embracing that fact.

Look like::

☆-hear me out...sweaty sex. I feel like he'd sweat quite easily when pounding you, sweat building along his hairline and down that sharp ass jawline 😩

☆-Sometimes I feel like people forget how sexy his body is, his thin waist that perfectly tapers to his sturdy hips and thick thighs, like come on.

☆-Most of the time you'll see Jeongin on top of you in the dark. The only light source being the night sky as he looms over you, his broad chest covering your body as his knees trap you between him 🥴

☆-backshots...also cumming onto your tummy as well 🤌 he does really like creampies but he loves messy sex even more. Usually in one session he'll cum outside and inside of you at least once each. A good balance.

☆-he loves loves loves making you squirt. That sexy face you make every time, the way your body moves on its own, the way you moan, it's everything to him and best of all, the mess you make, all for him.

☆-this may sound weird but I can see him smiling a fair bit during sex. After very explosive orgasms or when it just feels so good he has to smile with a little chuckle.

☆-bro would love shower sex, I firmly believe this, so seeing him all wet is a common occurrence during sex. His hair clinging to his face as water drops down his face and chest before pressing you against the wall to fuck you all over again.

Taste like::

☆-this man eats pussy so good, have you seen his tongue work on stage? He knows how to make a woman cum 5 times over in one sitting.

☆-I can see him being really sloppy when he eats you out, his saliva dripping down on his chin and all over your pussy.

☆-oral for him can be whatever really. Sometimes it's slow an sensual or romantic and sometimes it's more...erotic

☆-he loves hearing the sounds of his cock wedging down your throat though 😩 and he likes when you let him cum on your face or make cum bubbles etc, be messy.

☆-eating you out from behind >>> he'd get you to go on all fours and he'd come up behind you to make out with your cunt.

☆-he loves spreading your folds, thighs, or ass when eating you out, he needs to get right up in there.

☆-he's the type of guy to not finger when he eats you out, he doesn't need his fingers to make you cum, only his sweet tongue and lips.

#Spotify #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz x reader #skz jeongin #stray kids jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin smut #jeongin #skz headcanons #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz

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reignpage · 4 hours ago

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Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye.

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines.

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face.

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half of amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great.

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and makings sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you.

It’s fine.

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that.

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxious loud, and suddenly he's realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the morning that’s always greener than the last.

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack, when it’s not from you.

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say.

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways?

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up.

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question.

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood.

But what they don’t know is that you texted to let him know you’re staying another week.

Fucking texted.

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice.

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home.

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh.

The door handle rattles.

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing.

You’re here.

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble.

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute.

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat.

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion.

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No.

It can’t be.

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure.

Toji missed you.

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better.

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you.

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts.

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home.

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.”

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says,

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you.

#jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk oneshot #jjk drabble #toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji angst #toji fluff #toji drabble #toji fic #toji oneshot

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kbstanny · 2 days ago

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Treatment (Zayne/Reader)

✿ Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿ Pairing: M/F

✿ Tag: NSFW

✿ Mentions: smut, mild injury mentions

✿ Word count: 5,051

✿ Summary: She had no choice but to see Dr. Zayne for treatment after a Wanderer left her injured, but his cure for her anguish wasn't quite what she had in mind.

✿ A/N: Hey! This my first fic on this website, and it's on a game I only started playing a week ago 😭

Because I'm a new player, I don't really know the world or the story very well, so if there are inaccuracies then you know why. However, I've also avoided specific plot details for this very reason.

I hope you enjoy!

Damned Knave.

She tightly gripped the gash on her thigh, limping her way down the dark deserted path. She'd received reports of disturbances down at the old munitions factory and had gone to investigate. Wanderers had been sighted after hours, so she'd gone late into the evening, and solo, as her ever-elusive partner had been unavailable. She'd handled herself fine, but a rather tricky Knave had managed to cut right through the top of her thigh.

Once she eventually hobbled her way to a street lamp, she could investigate her injuries properly. Shakily, she removed her blood-stained hands from the wound, then hummed — It didn't look too severe. The gash was long, but not so deep, stretching from her inner thigh up toward her hip. The blood made things a lot nastier than they needed to be, and the pain was bearable, at least for now. She'd hail a taxi and treat the damage at home, and if it didn't feel much better by morning, she'd consult her physician. But Dr. Zayne was a last resort.

Once morning came, she did not feel better.

The pain woke her up before her alarm did. It stung intensely, and the surrounding skin was hot and numb. Clearly rubbing alcohol, a cocktail of painkillers and gauze wasn't going to cut it. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage to take a look at her injury — it still didn't seem too bad. Inflamed, a little gnarly, but far from incapacitating. Just painful. But she'd faced foes much fiercer than some stupid Herte Knave, and obtained injuries far more gruesome. For now, she'd suck it up. She had a job to do.

—

"Oh my god!" Tara gasped. "When did that happen?" Her friend asked her, leaning in to the picture on her phone. She'd snapped the pic before getting ready for work this morning, thinking it would be a funny story to tell to Tara at the office. But her friend's reaction was a little more alarmed than she'd anticipated.

"Last night, at the factory. There were some serious beasts down there, but you wanna know caused that? A Knave of all things." She chuckled, shaking her head. Tara didn't look so amused.

"Aren't you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?"

"It's just a scratch, Tara, I'll be fine."

"That is not just a scratch! That needs stitches!��"

"What needs stitches?"

Captain Jenna approached the two, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She had a scrutinising look in her eye, one that said 'Why are you chatting and not working?' It reminded her of her old teachers.

The hunters were silent, looking between each other. She shot Tara a warning look, but Tara ignored it, turning the phone to face Jenna. "This does."

Jenna leaned in, her eyebrows raising, breaking her steely expression. "Why yes, it does... Is this you?" She looked to her, and she sighed softly, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, but I feel fine. I promise. If I didn't, I'd take the day off."

"Have you had it treated?" Jenna cut to the chase.

"...No." She admitted, and Jenna sighed.

"Well go. At once. That could easily get infected." The captain straightened up, her tone commanding. There was no room for negotiation. "Honestly, I thought you'd have more sense than to leave an injury like that unattended." With that, Jenna walked away. She waited until her captain was out of sight before standing and addressing Tara.

"Did you really have to snitch on me?" Though she already knew she would — anything to impress Jenna. Tara gave a sheepish look.

"Well I had to do something! I'm only looking out for you." But she pat Tara's shoulder, shaking her head and smiling.

"I know, I know, you're right... as usual. I really shouldn't ignore it. Thanks Tara." Tara gave a knowing smile.

"I am usually right! Now go and see Zayne. He might be a little scary but he knows what he's doing." They both chuckled at that.

Tara knew what her friend was hesitant to admit: It wasn't that she was ignorant of the risks of open wounds, nor was she a particularly nervous patient. She just didn't want to see Zayne.

Not because the doctor was in any way cruel or unpleasant, he wasn't even scary as such. But the doctor was so cold, and the icy chill of his eyes permeated her core with a mere glance her way. Zayne had been an old forgotten friend, a dear one, but now he was a figurehead for her ailments. All that time they'd spent together as children seemed meaningless now. They couldn't have drifted further apart. Zayne was a bad omen, and a sign her past had been well and truly shattered.

But that was only half of the reason. The other reason, the more embarrassing one, was that she found Zayne stupidly attractive. Not only because he had the face of an angel and a body carved from marble, but for his work ethic, his dedication, his intelligence. And of course, she couldn't help but feel sentimental toward him over the time they'd spent together as kids. She yearned to reconnect with him. He had a potent effect on her. When she was near him, his mere presence was enough to suck the words out of her mouth, to reduce her to a shrinking violet with no resolve. Like a silly teenager with a crush. And that wasn't like her at all. She hated not having control.

She wasn't certain whether the feeling was mutual. There was something about the way that he looked at her, on occasion, that made her heart flare up. Sometimes she thought he had a tenderness to his tone that he just couldn't have used with everyone, but maybe that was wishful thinking? His concern for her health and wellbeing seemed obsessive, too. Never had her previous physicians been so zealous, but Zayne was a renowned surgeon. Perhaps it was just a sign he was good at his job, and nothing more? She didn't know, and she didn't like thinking about it.

With a deep breath, she rapped on the door to his office. With any luck, he'd be busy, and she'd be forced to return to HQ and schedule an appointment the long way.

"Come in." He answered — Damn.

She walked inside, standing by the door with her hands behind her back. Zayne was busy typing away at his computer, and he hadn't even spared her a glance. She hadn't realised she'd been quiet until Zayne spoke up again.

"Can I help you?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yes, if you're not too busy. I injured myself while dealing with a Wanderer. I was hoping you could take a look."

It was upon hearing her voice that Zayne decided his patient was more interesting than his computer, and he turned to face her, scrutinising her slightly crooked form, and the way she carried her weight. He thought for a moment or two.

"Your left thigh." How did he know that? She looked down, but her injury was completely concealed, and no blood had seeped through her clothes.

"Yes, how did you—"

"What happened exactly? Take a seat." She nodded, heading to sit down on the chair opposite the doctor, but he shook his head.

"Not there. On the examination table."

"Right."

As she sat down, Zayne quickly punched one final sentence into the keyboard, before turning to face her, waiting for her answer.

"It happened yesterday. A Wanderer, as I said." She clarified, and Zayne hummed.

"So the Wanderer attacked you directly? You didn't sustain this injury through any other means during the battle?" She shook her head. Zayne made a note of this on his computer.

"And do you have any other injuries?" She told him no again.

"Alright. I need to examine you, if that's okay."

She nodded, looking down to where her legs were outstretched on the table, before coming to an awkward realisation: She was wearing pants. She couldn't just pull her skirt up, she'd have to strip the item off entirely.

"Yes, of course." She began to fiddle with the button to her pants, before Zayne stiffened, taking the curtain that surrounded the table.

"Tell me when you're ready." With that, he shut the curtain around her. She released a sigh of relief, grateful for the privacy, though she felt a little stupid for not closing it herself. She wasn't sure how she'd compose herself having to undress in front of him.

Once her pants were off, she came to a second mortifying realisation: Her underwear. The item was black and lacy, made from sheer mesh, hardly concealing her delicate areas. The type you'd wear for a lover, and not at all the sort of thing you'd wear to work. But she'd washed all of her more practical undies yesterday, and thanks to one pesky Knave, hadn't found the time to dry them before morning. If she'd known she'd be stripping down in Zayne's office for an examination, she would have stopped off at the shops on her way to work to buy something cheap and appropriate. Hell, she probably would have bought boxer shorts.

"Shit." She hissed under her breath.

What would Zayne think of her? Surely he'd think it was deliberate. She'd approached him for treatment, and she just so happened to be wearing semi-transparent lingerie? There was no way he'd find that coincidental. He'd think she was some sort of pervert. Was it too late to get out of here?

"Are you alright? Or are you struggling to get changed?" Zayne asked from the other side of the curtain. Her chest felt tight — how long had she been sat there worrying?

"No, I'm fine. I'm ready now." She panicked, blurting out the words despite herself, cursing internally as Zayne pulled back the curtain. The doctor said nothing as his eyes drank in the sight of her, nor did his expression give anything away — Not that she'd know, she avoided his gaze like the plague, staring intently at the floor. But despite his composure, Zayne certainly noticed her indelicate attire. And despite his healing instincts, and the rather prominent gash on her thigh, her panties were the very first thing that held his attention.

Zayne sat beside the bed, on the side of her injured leg, leaning in close to the cut. He took a long look at it, reticent as ever, before finally meeting her gaze.

"What time did this happen yesterday?"

"In the evening."

"And you didn't think to call me when it did?" Zayne pressed. Her words were trapped in her throat for a moment, before she finally pushed them out.

"Well... no. It was late, and it didn't seem so bad at the time."

"It's never too late to check yourself in to a hospital." Zayne stated the obvious. "Whether I was available or not, you should have had this seen to immediately." His tone was stern, his stare unwavering. She said nothing. "When something like this happens, you need to call me, no matter how late it is. I'm your primary care physician, it's what I'm here for. And if I can't see to you personally, I can find someone who can."

"I understand. I will do, next time."

"You really ought to take your health more seriously. You have a duty, as a hunter, to protect people. Lives depend on you. And you can't protect anybody if you can't take adequate care of yourself. Being anything less than thorough with your wellbeing is selfish, and neglectful of your duties." His words made her brows furrow, a mixture of annoyance and shame, but she still didn't respond.

"Injuries sustained through Wanderer attacks are more susceptible to infections. Some are serious, and fast-acting, as you should well know. I cannot stress enough the importance of getting wounds like these seen to as soon as possible—"

"I know, Doctor." She interrupted, a little snappy. "I told you already. I will next time, and I'm here now, aren't I?" But did she have any right to be annoyed with his tone? Deep down she knew she didn't, that she was only being stubborn, but she couldn't help herself.

"Please don't be so reckless next time." Zayne asked her, his tone softer, his eyes so tender she couldn't stand to look at them anymore. She couldn't take it when he scolded her.

The doctor sighed softly through his nose.

"This will need sutures, but I'll need to clean the wound and check for signs of infection first, which requires a physical examination. Is that alright?" His words nearly made her melt.

"That's fine." She composed herself well enough for an answer.

Zayne brought a gloved hand to her thigh, and although the gesture was purely clinical, she couldn't help the heat that rushed to the spot between her legs. His hands were cool, and his touch gentle, so gentle that if she closed her eyes and pictured a different context, it could've been a loving caress. Zayne pressed his fingers firmly against her thigh.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." She answered honestly. Zayne repeated the motion to the space surrounding her injury, his fingers travelling in a small circle, starting from the bottom of the cut, until they creeped inwards. Zayne gently pulled at her thigh, widening her legs as he continued his examination. She was trying her best not to react.

She cast her gaze downwards, to the fingers between her legs, and her heart dropped. From this angle, under the stark white lights, she was clearly exposed. Nothing was left to the imagination. She was so embarrassed she nearly screamed, looking to Zayne to try and gauge his reaction — but she couldn't. He was too focused on the task at hand.

Her breath became shaky as she observed the way he prodded at her, how his fingers crept ever-closer to her arousal. Just one budge in the opposite direction and those tough, broad hands would be swept over her cunt. Imagining how his fingertips would tickle the mesh of her panties was enough to make her wet.

She heard her name in the recesses of her mind, and then again. Only the second time did she realise it was coming from Zayne's lips.

She snapped back to reality, looking back at him with eyes wider than intended. He stared back at her with a cutting gaze.

"I asked you whether it hurt, where I was touching you." He repeated. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a few moments before she could cough the words out.

"No— no, sorry. I was a million miles away." She chuckled sheepishly.

Zayne looked back at her, giving nothing away. How exciting, he thought, that he could tell exactly what was going through her mind, yet she didn't have a clue what he was thinking? Zayne was extraordinarily good at hiding his emotions, but his patient? Not so much.

She was embarrassed, that much was clear. Whether the lingerie was a wardrobe malfunction or a bold decision she quickly came to regret, he wasn't sure.

What was also clear was that she liked it — what he declined to express was that he did too.

How could he not? If it were anybody else, he wouldn't give such scandalous attire a second thought. As a doctor, he was indiscriminate; a body was just a body. He'd seen the hidden corners of countless beautiful women and it never swayed his commitment to his work or hindered his professionalism — not once. But she was different. Surely, despite how reserved he was, she could tell that she was different? That this tension between them was all but ordinary?

"I don't believe you have an infection, but I'd like to see you in a week for observation. If anything changes, let me know immediately." He told her, his tone as stoic as ever. Yet his hand lingered at her inner thigh, so close to her cunt she was sure he could feel the heat through his gloves. Eventually, he did move his hand. Despite his feelings, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

Zayne then proceeded with the usual cleaning and dressing procedures, and she suppressed a hiss as he swabbed the wound with antiseptic. During this entire exchange, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet, whereas Zayne was as quiet as usual. The silence was unbearable, she wasn't sure she could ever recall a time where she'd felt so awkward that it hurt. Her body was so tense, and her lust swelled so needily that she couldn't suppress the words that left her mouth next.

"I'm sorry about the underwear." She blurted, her apology cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. But it didn't take long for the searing metal to scorch her skin — she regretted the words almost the moment she'd said them.

Zayne paused, placing down the suture needle he was prepping before staring straight back at her. There was a hint of mirth behind his eyes, that came into fruition through a small, teasing smile.

"Don't apologise." His tone was gentle and neutral.

Did he say that so things wouldn't be uncomfortable, or because he liked the look of them?

"I didn't wear these because I knew you'd see them, all my other pairs hadn't dried. And I wasn't even going to see you in the first place, I only did because Jenna told me to!" She couldn't help but explain herself, a grimace on her face, but Zayne remained quiet as he brought the needle to the cut.

The anaesthetic numbed the pain. She felt uncomfortable again, with Zayne's sudden silence. She wondered whether he'd respond at all, whether she'd made things too awkward, but Zayne was simply mulling over the best thing to say.

"You don't usually wear lingerie to work, then?" He enquired, meeting her gaze once he'd pulled the stitch through. She chuckled bashfully, dipping her head.

"No. Never. They've been irritating me all day." Zayne hummed at this, continuing with his sutures. "Why, would you prefer it if I did?"

She wasn't sure where such boldness had come from. Likely it was that her lips below were talking for the ones above, despite how twisted up she felt inside. Yet again, she quickly regretted her pitiful attempt at flirting, until Zayne seemed to bite.

He met her eyes again, his smile wider now. He loved seeing her so playful. "I'm not sure I can come up with an answer that's both professional and true."

Her desire burned at his words, so brightly that she swore she could feel a hole forming in her chest. She clenched, unwittingly, never had she been so eager to feel him. A Cheshire-cat smile stretched across her face, the type of smile that she was sure made her look silly, yet Zayne found it endearing.

She began to laugh, though at first it was deep in the pit of her stomach, and Zayne continued with his work. But she couldn't help her laughter, the swell of emotions overtaking her. Embarrassed, yet immensely satisfied. How unexpected that things were beginning to work out for her?

Zayne finished the sutures, gathering fresh gauze as he began to dress the wound, amused by her reaction. "Do you truly find me that funny?" He asked in a level tone, and her laughter died down so that she could respond.

"Zayne, you are the furthest thing from funny." Though she didn't elaborate, as there was no need. Her belly full of butterflies was clear without words. The doctor hummed and finished dressing the wound.

She watched him as quiet settled over them again, but this time it wasn't an awkward silence. Instead, it was charged with sexual tension. Zayne stopped looking at her thigh in favour of the warmth between her legs. He stared, unabashedly, and the look on his face struck a bolt of fresh arousal through her heart.

He took his gloves off, then slowly, he reached over, tracing his fingertip over the lacy edge of her underwear. "Why do you have underwear like this anyway? Do you have a partner?" He asked her. She thought he sounded almost a little possessive, but it was clear another man in the picture wouldn't stop him anyways. His eyes flitted up to hers.

Her face felt hot at the question. Goosebumps prickled up across her skin in an instant, her cunt twitching from the subtle contact. "No."

"No?" He tested, taking his finger directly over her heat, stroking it up and down over the thin mesh of her panties. He could feel her wetness soaking through, and the way she twitched under his touch. "Then I'm right to assume that these are only for me?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that she mirrored.

"That's right."

Her answer pleased him. She spread her legs a little wider, resisting the urge to moan despite the fact he'd hardly touched her. Zayne slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, finally feeling her properly. The sensation made her gasp.

He merely trailed his touch along the length of her cunt, between her folds, sticky with her slick. He was teasing her, taking his precious time as he lapped up the look on her face.

"You're already so wet."

His voice was collected. He was completely in control, while the woman at the end of his fingers was quickly unravelling by the second. She said nothing, releasing a shaky breath. Zayne stood, sitting opposite her on the table.

He took his fingers from the lips below to the ones above, tracing them gently, before taking hold of her jaw. He pulled her forward, and their lips collided in a greedy kiss. She poured her desire into him, clasping him tightly, pulling him closer, her eyes clenched shut as he expelled the tension from her form.

Yet Zayne, as always, appeared composed. He parried her hungry affections effortlessly, his grip on her jaw becoming firm. Zayne led the charge, as he guided her lips against his, eventually setting their pace. She slowed down to appreciate him, but before long the kiss was broken. Zayne pulled away with a soft smile, his lips a little puffy as he pressed them chastely to her cheek.

He brought his fingers to her lips again. "Suck them for me." His command was gentle without losing its timbre, and she obeyed, sucking on the digits without question, briefly, until he pulled them out of her mouth. Zayne brought his wetted fingers back to her cunt, pulling her underwear to one side and sticking his fingers firmly against her.

She huffed at the sensation. His fingers were still a little cold, warmer now thanks to her mouth. She clenched, feeling empty, needing him inside of her.

Zayne rolled his fingers over her clit, and not too slowly, which took her by surprise. She moaned already, widening her legs for him. He wore a focused expression, lust sparking beneath his pointed gaze.

He sat more comfortably between her legs, taking her thigh, before inserting a finger into her cunt. She whined, though she was wet enough to offer no resistance. He pushed it deep inside of her in one, smooth motion.

She clenched tightly with her core, as if to hold on to him, wanting to keep him inside of her, sighing as he pulled his finger out, only for him to add a second.

This was a tighter fit. She moaned, trying to keep her voice down, angling her hips up to feel him better. Zayne slowly began to pump both his fingers, up deep inside of her then down to the tips. The friction of her walls against him was marvellous.

"You feel wonderful." He told her, his eyes locked on hers, fixed on every micromovement. Everything about her, from the sound of her voice, the small parting in her lips, the sight of her so uninhibited before him — it was poetry in motion. This woman, as capable and stubborn as she was, was helpless at his touch.

I do feel wonderful, she thought, scoffing at Zayne's compliment. She felt blissful, like a ball of a thousand knots had at once been untied, releasing a deep strain she'd been harbouring in her stomach. Ever since she'd reunited with Dr. Zayne, those ties had knotted. Every time she'd seen him, the palpable tension between them had grown and grown. Until now.

Zayne sat up straight, then hoisted her up, taking his fingers out briefly to pull her panties off entirely, carelessly discarding the item on the floor. It was only a momentary distraction — soon Zayne's fingers slipped past her walls yet again, though this time he was positioned beside her, his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her close.

He pumped his fingers faster, his motions mechanical, his rhythm never wavering, and she struggled to contain the sound of her mewls.

"Shh. You need to be quieter." He hushed her, gently. "As much as I love hearing you, the walls here aren't so thick." He managed a chuckle, dipping his head to her neck, pressing a short trail of kisses down its length. This made her shiver

"That's— that's the wrong way to get me to be quiet." She scolded, playfully, matching his smile. Her words were breathy and choppy from her efforts to conceal her pleasure.

"Noted." Zayne turned her head toward his, then caught her lips in another kiss, one more frenzied than the first. Zayne used his lips to muffle the noises coming out of hers, eating every moan and whine she poured into him. He pushed his fingers as deep as they could reach inside of her, stroking her walls with a beckoning motion. Meanwhile, he played with her clit with his thumb, breaking their kiss to observe her reactions.

She looked divine. Her lips were wet and inflamed, dripping with saliva, her hair tousled, her expression languid. And he could see how she tried so hard to keep quiet for him, how her whimpers bubbled in her mouth, how hard she breathed through her nose. She felt she must have looked silly, but Zayne didn't think so at all.

"So you can do what you're told?" He teased, sounding more playful than she'd ever heard him. She huffed at this, far too wound up to retort.

He suddenly began to pump his fingers again, faster than before, which took her time to adjust to. She gasped, but caught most of the sound in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.

She could feel her climax swelling. It couldn't be far away. Her body felt tight and hot, her face clenched with the torment of having to keep quiet. She held his hand, leaning into him, her movements becoming fidgety as she tried to channel her stimulation. Again, she clenched at Zayne's fingers, bucking her hips to take more of them. Seeing her so desperate for him was so exciting.

"You're doing so well." He didn't tease her anymore, cooing into her ear. His husky tone was enough to make her moan again, that one slipping right past her defences, ringing loud and clear. Oops.

She bit her lips, flashing Zayne an apologetic look, though he didn't seem to mind, nor did he slow down. Another pang of pleasure rippled through her, and at that she knew it was time.

"Zayne— I'm close—" She just about choked the words out, her hand coming to clamp her mouth shut. Somehow, in the heat of things, she'd forgotten she had that option.

He sped up a final time, his fingers flashing in and out of her with a series of thick squelches. Zayne fingered her like a machine, one clever in its design — to be so quick and accurate without being brutal. She felt her whole body tense, a flush of great heat washing over her, choking out her gasps as she buried her head in Zayne's shoulder. Then, at once, she reached her release.

Her body quickly went lax, the heat and strain fizzing out of her, skin tingling. It took her a few good gasps to regain her composure, eyes slowly opening. When she looked down, the light sheet on the table had been soaked through with her release, her legs glistening with sweat. Slowly, Zayne pulled his fingers out of her, earning a whine from the weary woman. He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking away her juices.

He sent her a smile, pulling her against his chest. "Did you like that?" Surely the answer was obvious, and she sent him a look that spoke a thousand words. His smile deepened. "I'm glad."

"I hope I wasn't too loud..." She mused, looking to Zayne, who leaned in to press a soft kiss to her temple. A delicate gesture that made her heart stir.

"You were. But don't worry about it." She scoffed at that, too tired to do anything but listen to him. Before she could return the favour and get Zayne off, she needed a few minutes to gather herself.

But Zayne didn't seem the least bit concerned about his own satisfaction — seeing her hit ecstasy was all he needed. He rubbed at her inner thigh, the one that wasn't injured, giving her a slightly regretful look.

"I have an appointment in twenty minutes, so unfortunately you're going to have to leave soon." The words weighed heavy on her chest, even though she knew that was stupid, nodding at Zayne with a cheeky smile.

"That's not a problem, I can make it quick." She reached over to the tent in Zayne's crotch, but he took her hand, moving it away.

"I can sort myself out." He assured her. She couldn't help but feel a little rejected. Sensing this, he stroked her cheek.

"You can make it up to me another time." They both smiled at that, staring at each other for what felt like hours.

"I'll never avoid making an appointment again."

They probably would have kept staring if it weren't for the startling knock at the door, and the concerned voice of one of the nurses that followed.

"Doctor Zayne? Is everything alright in there? I heard a lot of noise!"

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lads #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #oneshot #lnds zayne #lnds #lnds zayne x reader #lnds x reader #lads x reader

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ushifiles · 1 day ago

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╰ 3,020 words · ˚ ༘ ꒱ Beg? She thinks to herself through the haze of pleasure, sniffling so pathetically that she can even feel the smallest tendril of shame creeping in. Damn him, she has been begging for months. No one in their right mind would be playing the role of a housewife in all but name, wearing the shortest dresses known to man, and not have something they want to get. She wants him, always has and always will.

part two of dearest, darling, my universe ╱ alternate universe — no powers. female reader. third person. age gap ( sylus is in his late thirties, and reader is in her early twenties ). friends to lovers ( real, this time ). light angst. freak for freak dynamics. unnamed shitty ex for reader. sugar daddy dynamics, heavy power imbalance. masturbation. mentions of somnophilia, drugging. creampie. fingering. cockslapping. ( !! ) dubious consent + consensual non–consent, reader protests and sylus ignores / mocks her for it. domesticity as a kink. hints of predator and prey dynamics. sylus has a wife kink that reader is too willing to use against him. allusions to size difference where reader is smaller than sylus.

There is an ache, somewhere deep in his chest. A gnawing kind, enough that it makes his breath catch like something unyielding is stuck in his throat; it worsens to the point of making his ever-confident steps to falter. She is avoiding him, he would be far too stupid to not notice that.

She is not even trying to hide it, and Sylus does not know if that is worse.

A pair, that is what they have always been. One plus one everywhere they go, someone jokes once, and they did not let go of that notion — never let it go since it had been first spoken within reach. The only time that it ever changed was when that stupid boy came into the picture, but he left, and for a year, all was well in Sylus’ world once more.

He had her in his vicinity once more, dancing around him, but closer. She lived in his home, wore clothes he bought for her, and swiped his black card with hesitation then with ease.

It was bliss, even more when he had her in his bed.

Drugged out of her wits, unconscious, but still greedy when it comes to sucking his cock deep inside of her pulsing wetness. Sylus did not just cum once or twice, thick ropes of his seed flooded her womb several times over, enough that when he pulled out, he was aching and sore.

Something should have changed afterwards, even if she did not know of his violation. Something should have changed for the better, not for the worse — not this, never this.

He is confident that she does not know, chalks the ache of her cunt to a drunken rub that her little fingers did when she thought of him asleep. Many nights have passed like that after all, her breathy little whines and moans echoing through the microphone hidden behind her headboard. He had spent those times with a hand around his girth, pumping with every obscene squelch that her cunt makes. She does not know a thing, none the wiser of how much he already memorised every dip in her curves, the softness of her skin, and the scent that blooms when he bends her to his whim.

But she still pulls away, slowly, as if he is not looking at all times.

Sylus does not see red.

He sees black.

The tablet — that his money bought, the primal part of his soul whispers in delight — is snatched away from her fingers. It is with a sense of detachment that he watches how she startles, not having realised that he already arrived home from whatever his work is, and that bothers Sylus greatly. She is his good girl, his best and only girl, who was so attuned to his presence that he could never surprise her with his arrival before.

Before, but it seems, not anymore.

And oh, does that not just sting?

“You have been avoiding me,” a statement and not a question; the way he speaks betrays the severity of the situation, Sylus is never formal with her — always slurring words in an accent that exists only to him and contractions of his own that would never make sense to anyone else. “Did you think of me to be so stupid as to not notice?”

That right there, that is the question. Albeit, a rhetorical one. Even in his deepest hurt, he still tries to ensnare her in a trap, box her in a corner with nothing else to do but speak. It feels like if he does not, then he will lose her. He will lose her and never get her back, not like in the past where all it took was paying a pretty dumb thing to go crazy on her drunk boyfriend. If he loses her this time, he fears that he will never get her back. It feels like it will be permanent this time.

She looks at him, wide-eyed and surprised. Sylus does not miss the tremble in her gaze, how it flickers to the side in an attempt to not meet his eyes. He cannot lose her. It is desperation that makes him reach out, ever gentle when his hand cradles her cheek.

“Why?” A question that is more of a plea for understanding, for clarity.

Silence takes hold, and it feels like a noose tightening around his neck with every second that passes and she does not speak.

A shuddering breath from lips that tasted sweet as ambrosia, more succulent than the ripest of fruits. “I’ve been taking advantage of your kindness,” she whispers in a voice that sounds near tears, pearl-like droplets trickling down her cheeks to land on his hand like boiling water. “It’s not r-right, you take care of me so well, and I don’t even do anything to contribute to this house.”

He wants to laugh, to cry, and call her a silly girl for worrying over it. Not once has she ever taken advantage of him, when all that he gave her were things that he gave freely. But her tears make him stop, the ache in his chest swelling to monstrous proportions that it nearly threatens to swallow him whole. “I-I don’t want to depend on you so much,” but I want you to, “let me do something— anything, please. I don’t want to be a-a burden to you.”

You could never be one, Sylus wants to bare his teeth in a snarl and insist. You can spend the rest of your days attempting to empty my bank accounts, lay on my couch— my bed, and I would be happier for it.

This is a fight that he will not win, he knows that much.

Sylus has always been weak to those eyes of hers, that glassy shine that makes him feel so utterly human.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers, tilting her face to press a kiss to her forehead — feeling so fucking grateful that she lets him and does not pull away. “Anything that you want, my darling. Anything at all.”

They do not return to the comfort of the before, but the tension that hung in their home begins to dissipate. Baby steps, Sylus whispers to himself when she gives him a shy smile when her eyes catch his, standing before the stove as she has been doing for a few weeks now.

He does not intrude, only returning her smile with one of his own.

She begins to run around the house like a little wife, his little wife, and he feels utterly pleased by that thought; even if a part of him remains seething at how she keeps her distance.

On the bright side, the one that he chooses to look at, they establish a routine of their own in this change. His return home is always welcomed with a chirp from the kitchen and the scent of something delicious permeating the air. She goes to him within minutes, warmth in her eyes and a skip in her step. Her hand takes his briefcase and sets it aside, reaching for his tie to loosen the knot before making him sit on the couch — a glass of scotch already awaiting by the coffee table.

The pitter-patter of her delicate heels echo, her perfume filling his lungs when she walks away, and something in Sylus begins to ease.

Right here, this is where home is.

All relationships have their ups and downs, and while they remain in the vague territory of friendship, they are no different. It does not escape his notice how the further their routine becomes solidified in the foundation of their lives, the more domestic it becomes.

He does not speak of it, and neither does she, even as the weeks turn to months and her dresses become shorter and shorter under the frilly white apron that she seems so fond of. On the downside, Sylus has to keep making excuses for the amount of times he retreats to the privacy of his bedroom throughout the day.

The moment the door closes, his hand will always be wrapped around the steadily hardening girth of his cock. He rarely bothers to push his pants down, opting to just pull himself out and give it punishing strokes to bring the edge off.

It never works, even as his cum spurts so soon with his brain reeling from the images of her.

Pure torture, that is what it is.

Until it is suddenly not, his control fucking snaps one day when she bends in front of the oven — clad in nothing but her short fucking black dress and that fucking frilly apron. His mouth turns dry, and everything becomes a blur from how fast he prowls to her like a predator would to prey.

She is barely upright before Sylus has an arm wrapped around her waist and his other hand on her face, covering her mouth and nose, as he all but drags her struggling and screaming form to force her to bend over the dining table. It is so cute how she tries to resist, to flail and fight against him like her weak limbs can do anything. It is nothing short of adorable how she tries to scream her protests, her curses, and her pleas that come out muffled beneath his palm.

He should have done this earlier, Sylus thinks to himself. He should not have used the drug and just fucked her to the mattress, held her down when she woke, because her resistance is so delicious.

“No?” A breathless laugh to the back of her ear, tongue flicking out to lick the lobe at the same time the hand around her waist dips underneath the skirt to pinch her thigh. When she jumps and a squeak escapes her lips in surprise at the flash of pain, he becomes lightheaded from how quickly his blood travelled south. “If you really didn’t want this, then you should be wearing your pretty panties.”

Even his words do nothing to stave off his arousal, when the mere utterance of her undergarments make his spine tingle with pleasure at the memory of personally buying each piece of clothing that touches her skin.

Only the best for his perfect girl, after all.

“But you’re not,” Sylus continues, letting his hand travel higher at the same time he releases her mouth to press her head down the table. He keeps her pinned down as he dips thick digits between the seam of her cunt, smearing her arousal all over her mound before bringing it to his lips.

An obscene suck, the taste of her perfect pussy blooms in his tongue.

His schemes, his plans, all of them fly out the window alongside his self-control.

Still holding her down, he flips her skirt up and pushes down his pants. It has barely dropped to his knees before the head is already pressing to her clit in a mimicry of a peck. He slaps the nub with the tip of his cock a few times, delighting at the panicked way that she squirms and babbles pleas that he does not bother hearing.

It feels like he is underwater, all of his focus trained on her sopping wet cunt and his cock mere centimetres away. Is it even a surprise when Sylus begins to push in?

Her cries increase in volume, but he does not care, not when she gets wetter and wetter at the same time. “Dirty girl,” he laughs underneath all her begging, watching in fascination as her arousal coats his thickness so thoroughly and then drips some strings of it down the floor of their kitchen. “You like this, don’t you?” Another push, her walls clenching in response. “Dirty girls like you like to be forced to take cock. Oh, baby.”

Pressed to the hilt, he stays there just to bask in the warmth that he missed.

For her, this will be their first time together. But for Sylus? This will be their second, and it will not be the last, not when it feels infinitely better to have her cunt while she is awake. It feels so fucking good to feel her struggle at first, then for all her protests to slowly melt away with each press deeper.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”

Her pussy positively throbs around Sylus, breaths coming out pitched while crying her little heart out.

This position is so reminiscent of the time he took her savagely, thinking that she had been drugged to her wits, in her bed too. Their first time together is memorable, she can admit that much. But not having to hide all the sounds that creep from her throat and her body’s reaction to him is infinitely so much better.

She feels so exposed like this, bent over the table they have been taking their meals together for over a year now. A small sniffle comes pitifully bubbling out of her lips, tasting the salt of her crocodile tears, and clenches even tighter around him. “M-Mercy,” she begs sweetly, pretending like her hips are not rocking back and forth on his cock, moving all on her own without even a bit of his help. She can feel his amusement at her continued protests, how he twitches inside of her, and has to warble her voice in the following cry to hide how she wants to moan at finally having him where she wants him.

His hand moves from the back of her skull to press between the blades of her shoulder, an unrelenting pressure that makes her gasp and spasm around his girth. “Mercy? Hm,” his voice trails off at the same time he pulls out, until only the tip is left and she weeps at the loss — unable to hide her need for him any longer.

“Maybe if you beg nicely for me, darling.”

Beg? She thinks to herself through the haze of pleasure, sniffling so pathetically that she can even feel the smallest tendril of shame creeping in. Damn him, she has been begging for months. No one in their right mind would be playing the role of a housewife in all but name, wearing the shortest dresses known to man, and not have something they want to get.

She wants him, always has and always will.

The masks have fallen, all of her is bared to all of him — primal and rotten to the very core. Soulmates, she thinks hysterically to herself. What a perfect match they make. She has always been greedy, always wanting more, always needing more. Yet, for all of her faults, he indulges her again and again, how can she not fall for him? Sylus is the only one who can ever have her, she has vowed this to her heart all those months ago, when his door opened and she immediately found herself swept in his arms like nothing ever changed between them. Sylus is the only one that she will ever have, the only one she will allow to have her.

It is Sylus or nothing.

“Please,” she breathes out, desperate to have him back and clenching around the sensitive head. “P-Please make me your wife.” There it is, her heart’s wish laid bare. She whines, tries to weakly raise her hips and push him back inside to the emptiness in her cunt.

For a moment, all is still, like even the very air is watching with bated breath. She tries not to panic, he is still pressed to her, even if he remains unmoving. Her tears are renewed, no longer playing a role, but feeling wounded at the thought of being rejected after all this time. Her heart skips a beat, not in the way that romance novels talk about, but one of tragedy. She hitches a breath, whimpering to herself and tries to squirm away, put some distance between them—

Only to scream when Sylus shoves his cock back inside the velvety depths in an almost violent press of his hips to her behind.

It feels so intense, too much and too fast that her head nearly spins from the sudden onslaught of pleasure assaulting all of her senses. Earlier wish for mercy is granted when he does not wait for her to adjust, settling into a pace that nudges that tender spot deep inside every time that he presses back inside. The edge of the table digs into her skin, making her teeth chatter with every little “ah, ah, ah” that escapes. Mercy is when he folds his body on top of her, his chest to her spine, like he cannot bear the thought of having space between their bodies now that he finally knows the truth.

Mercy is when he reaches down, pinching her clit and tapping it insistently like his cock is not stirring her very guts to the point that she can feel him in her throat.

She hears nothing but the sound of his grunts, his praise, and the slap of skin-on-skin.

At some point, she must have reached her high before blacking out, because the next thing that she knows is that she is on her back, the mattress soft but already drenched in fluids, with Sylus still inside her cunt — her very tender cunt that is practically oozing cum from how much he filled her.

“It’s okay,” the man coos sweetly, reaching a heavy palm to press against the bulge in her belly that is in the shape of his cock. “My little wife should go back to sleep and let her husband fill her up, hm?” It feels like a threat, a promise that only he is privy to its true meaning.

She wants to protest, but she feels so warm all over, from his presence and the warmth of his cum inside of her. Everything feels so muddled, like she is wading deep in a pool of thick syrup from all of his love pouring into her; exhausted eyes close once more, and she feels him press a kiss to her sternum.

“That's my perfect girl.”

#⠀-ˋˏ⠀𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬⠀ ⟡ ׅ ﹙ 🪽 ﹚#love and deepspace smut #lnd smut #sylus x you #qin che x reader

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hazymoonlinh · 2 days ago

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A bet is a bet, right, Lighter ?

(In conclusion, he wear a maid dress. :))))) )

(Lighter x gn!reader)

The dim light of Burnice’s dingy bar you��d chosen for your little “duel” added to the atmosphere. The place was perfect for the game you had in mind. A row of shot glasses sat between you and Lighter, each filled with something potent enough to knock out a lesser soul.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk cocky as ever. “You sure about this, babe? You’re playing with fire.”

You mirrored his smirk, tapping your nails against one of the glasses. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. I’m tougher than you think. The rules are simple—whoever passes out first loses. The winner gets one demand. No refusals.”

His red-slashed eyes gleamed under the bar’s flickering neon sign. “And what exactly are you planning to demand from me?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Lighter chuckled, the low sound rumbling in his chest. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The duel began. Glass after glass was downed, each burning its way through your throat and spreading a pleasant warmth in your veins. The patrons at nearby tables stopped what they were doing to watch, murmuring in hushed tones as they witnessed the famous Lighter Lorenz locked in a drinking battle with his equally formidable partner.

“You’re holding up better than I expected,” he teased, setting his latest glass down with a clink.

“And you’re sweating more than I thought you would,” you shot back, swirling the next drink in your hand before tipping it back.

By the fifteenth round, the world was spinning for both of you, though neither would admit it. Lighter leaned forward, elbows on the table, as his sunglasses slid down his nose. “You… you’re something else,” he slurred, though his grin never wavered.

“You… too,” you managed, slamming down another glass. Your tail flicked lazily behind you, betraying your smugness.

It wasn’t until the twenty-second round that his head slumped forward, forehead resting on the table. A low groan escaped him. “Damn it… fine. You win.”

You blinked through your own haze of intoxication, raising both arms triumphantly. “Ha! I knew it!” you declared, though your words were more of a proud slur.

He looked up at you with tired eyes, lips twitching into a grin. “Alright, what’s your command, your highness?”

You leaned forward, fingers brushing his chin as you purred, “You’ll know soon enough.”

The next morning, Lighter groggily woke up in your shared quarters to find the maid uniform neatly folded on the table, along with a note:

“You lost, love. Time to pay up. Put it on. I’ll be waiting~.”

The groan he let out could’ve rivaled the sound of thunder, but deep down, you knew he’d do it. After all, a deal was a deal.

You lounged comfortably on the couch, legs crossed, fingers tapping the screen on phone. A whistle escaped your lips as Lighter stepped out from the other room.

There he was, the ever-composed Lighter Lorenz, but today? Today, he was far from composed. The maid uniform you’d so cleverly acquired clung awkwardly to his tall, broad frame, the frilly apron tied just a little too tightly around his waist. The hem of the dress barely grazed his knees, and the stockings—well, you’d convinced him to wear those too, much to his chagrin.

And, of course, he hadn’t dared to remove his signature sunglasses, even in this humiliating state. His face was bright pink, contrasting sharply against his usual cool demeanor.

“Say something, and I’m walking out that door,” he grumbled, the low growl in his voice betraying his embarrassment.

You couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. “Oh, mon dieu, you’re gorgeous. I think you missed your true calling, Lighter.”

He crossed his arms, the frills of the sleeves only adding to the absurdity. “You got what you wanted. Can we end this now?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a sly grin, patting the seat next to you. “Come here, maid boy. Your master has some… requests.”

He groaned, dragging his feet as he approached. “You’re going to milk this for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

The moment you pulled out your phone, Lighter’s eyes narrowed, a low groan escaping his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh, I’m not,” you chirped, grinning like a cat who just cornered its prey. “C’mon now, spread your legs and kneel on the couch. Hands under your chin, please.”

He glared at you, his lips pressing into a firm line, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I hate this,” he muttered, shifting awkwardly into position on the couch. His knees dug into the cushions as he rested his hands under his chin, striking a pose so out of character it was almost painful to look at.

You didn’t hold back a laugh this time, snapping a quick photo. “Oh, that’s perfect. So delicate. You’re a natural.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he growled, but he stayed in place, his pride visibly crumbling with each passing second.

“Now,” you said, scrolling through the photos like a professional photographer critiquing their work. “Lie on the couch, stomach down. Legs curled up behind you. You know, classic flirty pose.”

Lighter groaned loudly, dragging a hand over his face before reluctantly complying. He flopped onto the couch, grumbling under his breath, and tucked his legs up behind him like you asked.

You tilted your head, squinting dramatically at him as you snapped more photos. “A little more sass, darling. Give me your best ‘come hither’ eyes. Sell it to me.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” he muttered, glaring over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, this is the best day of mine,” you shot back, snapping another picture.

He let out a defeated sigh, burying his face in the couch cushions. “I’m never agreeing to one of your stupid challenges again.”

You set the phone down, grinning as you sat beside him, running a hand through his messy hair. “Oh, you say that now, but you’ll forget by the next time I bat my eyelashes at you.”

He shot you a look, his blush still lingering. “Not this time.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, leaning down to kiss his temple. “You’re adorable, by the way. Thanks for being a good boy.”

___

(I have a draft of the gang seeing him in that dress too but meh, it’ll be too long and I already flop enough)

#zenless zone zero #lighter zenless zone zero #lighter x reader #zenless zone zero lighter #zenless zone zero x reader

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kaymarie-bell · 18 hours ago

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Going feral over the Ithaca Saga rn

spoilers below (it's me yapping about the things I've noticed in each song)

The Challenge:

The 🎻Penelope🎻leitmotif to tells us who's about to (FINALLY) sing

I'm gonna be honest, I had heard all the snippets of this song because I wanted to hear Penelope SO BAD but I love having the actual song out

I knew this was going to be one of my top 3 from the beginning

I love the drums, especially when the suitors begin to sing

Penelope sounds so serious while issuing the challenge, it's very different from the snippets. (great choice! it's a dire situation)

"I'd rather die than grow old without The Best of you" knowing damn well The Best is Odysseus 😭💖

Anna held that final note for so long holy shit

Hold Them Down

I liked the repetition of the challenge by the suitors. Terrifying.

Ayron Alexander is a great singer, I had to listen twice because I got distracted by his voice so I missed what he was saying until the "hold her down". 😔

The lyrics are brutal. Jay did an amazing job 👏

Oof that sound at the end was disturbing. 100/10

Odysseus

THIS is the Ody Crashes Out song

OH! The beginning has the same structure as The Horse and the Infant / Monster

"I. Have Had. Enough." Cue Ody's leitmotif

The chanting of "Odysseus" to show HE'S the threat right now

Wait this is just Polyphemus/Survive but we're rooting for the cyclops

HE'S AIMING FOR THE TORCHES (we are the same you and I~)

YOU DON'T THINK I KNOW MY OWN PALACE? I BUILT IT 🏹

"Let's have Open Arms instead-" / 🏹 "No."

"Legendary" melody to announce Telemachus 😭

Is that Athena's quick thought leitmotif? I need Jay's visuals 😫

MICO did such a great job omg

the soundscaping is really good as always. I can picture the scene very well

"Mercy? MERCY?" 🏹

Jay with the crazy voice acting again 👏

The final "Odysseus" chant is the same one as the end of No Longer You ��

I Can't Help but Wonder

I might be wrong, but I think the beginning goes from Just a Man to the Legendary leitmotif 😭

Acoustic guitar because this is an emotional song

Ngl I cried a lot with this one

MY SON, I'M FINALLY HOME 🗣

🗣TELEMACHUS~🗣

I can't tell if the piano in the background is playing a previous melody. I need the musician YouTubers to drop their analyses asap 😩

Quick thought. MY QUEEN IS BACK.

"Show yourself, I know you're watching me"

Athena sounds so much more...human? She really changed!

Athena basically:...should we try Open Arms now? / Ody:...too late for me I fear

"Father? She's waiting for you"

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

The deep breath before the 🎻Penelope🎻😭

I love how the strings build up/speed up! it translates Ody's anxiousness/anticipation so well. And all goes quiet when the door opens

Anna sounds so beautiful 💖

The lyrics are wrecking me so bad. Thinking about "So much has changed, but I'm the same, yes I'm the same!" previously 😭

"What kind of things did you do?" /

"Left a trail of red on every island" *Ruthlessness melody*

"As I traded friends like objects I could use" *Thunder Bringer melody*

"Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands" *Scylla melody*

"But all of that was to bring me back to you. So tell me, would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo"

Penelope's last test with their bed.

Odysseus: "I am not the man you knew"

Penelope: "IF that's true...could you do me a favor?"

Odysseus being so hurt about the suggestion of cutting down their wedding bed 😭

Odysseus: "the only way to move it, is to CUT IT FROM ITS ROOTS!"

Penelope: "only my husband knew that, so I guess that MAKES HIM YOU!"

She didn't ask him because she doubted it was her husband, she asked him because HE was doubting HIMSELF OH MY GOD-

I would fall in love with you, over and over again, I don't care how where or when,

No matter how long it's been YOU'RE MINE

DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE NOT THE SAME PERSON! YOU'RE ALWAYS MY HUSBAND and I've been Waiting, Waiting!

WAITING!....for you (with the word "for" sung in the same melody the crew used to sing "Oh, whoah-oh-oh Odysseus." Wait is this her saying she accepts him monster and all? 😭)

*Just a Man orchestra ver.* I had a feeling Jay would do this, and yet I was NOT emotionally prepared for it at all

This song is basically: Odysseus hurt because he thinks Penelope confirmed his fear (she cannot love him anymore) by telling him to cut down the tree 🤝 Penelope upset with Odysseus because how dare he doubt her love (they love each other so much)

Penelope: "How long has it been?"

Odysseus: "Twenty years"

Both: "I Love You"

I'm so sick. Jorge can write a damn good love song for sure.

I'm sad about this being over but I'm also so very happy about finally having all these songs. This has been a great journey, and I can't wait to see what he does moving forward ❤️

#epic the ithaca saga #epic the musical #epic the musical spoilers #I love analyzing music- but my talents are more suited to the visual arts department so I DESPERATELY need other people's analyses #edit: I think it's actually Ruthlessness -> Thunder Bringer (not JaM)-> Scylla which makes more sense ig?#kay shouts into the void

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sunayyyy · 2 days ago

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Things were going really well for Jason, lately. He was talking to Kara often, sharing more about himself and getting to learn more about her. He could talk literature with her from dusk til dawn, finally having someone he could debate Brontë with. Talking to her was fun; she was intelligent, sassy enough to roast him when he left an opening, and unafraid to call him out on his bullshit. She made snarky comments that left him giggling. The Red Hood, giggling. Having a friend who knew him both in and out of the hood and saw more to him than the crime lord or the dead robin was so refreshing.

The Outlaws were his family, and he loved them, knew he was loved in return, but Kara was... different.

They shared a love for reading, which was a new thing for Jason, never having anybody to really talk to about his favourite hobby, and they gravitated towards the same types of books, meaning they managed to hold many discussions about different topics, with her loving to play devil's advocate whenever he was too passionate about a certain point or interpretation. Silence wasn't uncommon when they got together in person, with them just reading in each other's company or eating something too unhealthy for a regular person. It was calming, silencing the part of him that always raged at the injustice of the universe.

Their friendship really lifted his spirits, and it was noticeable to the Outlaws. Usually, when Jason decided to run missions with them, it's right after a fight with the bats about his methods. Just because he gave up on them being a family doesn't mean that the blatant distrust and rejection don't hurt.

But that hasn't been the case, lately. He contacted them just to hang out, wheras he usually had to be invited, his low self esteem making him unable to think they would ever agree to an invite from him, no matter how much they assured him. He was less aggressive in fights, the usually brutal Red Hood relying more on ranged combat than close quarters. No less deadly, mind you, but he started keeping his distance more, instead of ditching his guns in favour of his kris or bare hands. He didn't purposefully let himself get injured anymore and stopped drinking alcohol, instead partaking in healthier coping mechanisms. He laughed more, was more open with his feelings, more expressive of his love to them.

He looked his age.

Kara was a good thing. But you can't have too much good without the bad knocking, coming over to take its toll.

It's this cosmic trade-off that has Jason on a roof with all of the bat's brood. They've been trying to reconnect with him lately, seeing his lessening aggression and lack of killing as a sign of reform. Wanting to 'support' him as he 'takes the final steps towards redemption.' Preachy fuckers. Where was this when he actually wanted them? When he desperately NEEDED their support? They wanted to join in half a mile off the finish line so they'd be able to pat themselves on the back, claiming that they helped him all along.

That's not going to happen. Jason won't ALLOW it to happen.

"Come on Little Wing! We want you to come home! You've always been welcome but we never see you! Agent A misses you, and he wants all of his family together. You never know what comes next in life, tomorrow isn't guaranteed. If something happens, you'll regret not spending more time with him"

Manipulative bastard. But damn is he good. Appealing to what he thinks is a weak spot to get him to comply, framing it as though he was always welcome when he knows for a FACT he wasn't. Putting all of the expectations on him, so they wouldn't have to do anything. Guiting him into shunning them away, as if they hadn't done the same.

Jason is ashamed to say that it would've worked, years ago. Back when he thought of Alfred as his grandfather. When he desperately hoped for a place at the table, sitting next to his father, teasing his siblings.

It's not a couple of years ago, though. Priorities shift, and dirty laundry comes out. Words spoken that shattered any iota of love Jason held for the old man, a plaque cementing him as a permanent outsider.

"He's not a house plant, locked away in the manor with no way out. He could've visited me any time he wanted"

It shocked Dick, a little, getting rebuffed like that. He thought Alfred was the smoking gun. He didn't plan much, assuming that mentioning the old butler would have Jason coming back into the fold.

"It doesn't matter, Hood," came the gravelly voice of his former father. "We're trying to compromise with you here"

"Compromise on what, exactly?"

"Reports show a heavy decrease in your usage of lethal methods" Red Robin's voice piped up. "You've been less aggressive lately, and we think that you're finally getting better."

"Ok? I still don't understand"

"Given that you're improving," Batman replied, the clenching of his jaw giving away his growing frustration, " we would like you to come to family dinner this Sunday, provided that you stop killing"

"Yeah, I'm not interested. You'll bring me to the manor, frame it as a family reunion, then pick fights and argue with me until you decide to throw me into arkham or whatever. I've got better plans"

"It's not like that!" shouted Nightwing, frustrated that Hood wasn't seeing reason. They're trying to help him here, get him back on the right path. Doesn't he see their generosity? They're forgiving him for being a murderer, he should be happy for getting such a chance.

"Oh? then what's it like? Because we haven't spoken outside of the masks since I came back, and suddenly I've ALWAYS been allowed back? Every time we talk in the masks, you threaten me with jail or exile"

"Yes, because you're a murderer. We don't have the right to be judge-"

"Jury and executioner. Yeah, spare me the bullshit, I've heard it a million times. I'm not a bat, I don't have to adhere to your code, or whatever"

"Dammit, Hood, we're trying here!" Bellowed the Batman, coming to his wit's end with his son's dismissal of the lives he's taken, of the opportunity to truly reform. "If you really want to get better, if you want to be a lart of this family again -"

"I don't"

This causes Bruce to stop talking and all the bats and birds to look at him in shock, staring at him as if he would reveal himself as a clone or a shapeshifter. It simply didn't compute

"What?"

"I don't want to be a part of your family."

"You must be misunderstanding," came Red Robin's diplomatic voice, clearly disbelieving that Jason would ever reject them, voice almost frantic. "We're offering you a chance to rejoin the family"

"I understand perfectly. I'm just not interested in being family with all of you. I don't know you, I don't WANT to know you, and I've moved on"

"What do you mean you moved on!" shouted Dick, incredulous.

"I mean, I moved on. I gave up on you years ago. I found myself a family, a real family, people who love me for who I am, and I'm happy with them, far happier than I ever was with you. I'm not going to jeopardise my own happiness by clinging onto the ties to a life I'd rather forget"

The bats were stunned, not having expected this, and Jason left the rooftop, feeling lighter than he has in years, debating with himself on whether or not he and Kara should get ice cream later.

#jason todd #batfam #anti batfam #jaykara #eventually #wip #current wip

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joelsbunnyboy · 3 days ago

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𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 ₊⊹⁀➴

while patrolling with Joel, you find out he’s never caught a snowflake on his tongue before.

tags: SFW, Joel knows no joy nor whimsy, grumpy/sunshine duo, Jackson!Joel, age gap (20's, 56), gn!reader

wordcount: 743

the cold was near blistering. you could feel the cold snow sinking under the weight of your shoes. your breath was coming out in small puffs of chilled, white air. “damn, yer freezing...” Joel commented. “shut it. I'm fine,” you snapped, wanting to appear tough. but Joe knew better. all he did was smile and shake his head, continuing to walk alongside you.

the snow was soft under your steps, crunching and leaving a crisp noise that was audible even through earmuffs. “this snow is really loud,” you chuckled, a little weak. Joel hummed, acknowledging your words. then you noticed some snow on your shoulders. you looked up, and saw some snow falling from the sky above, the clouds pearly white as they covered every inch of the sky. “Joel! it’s snowing!” you cried, happily holding a hand out, hopeful to catch some. “so? ‘snows all the time here in Jackson,” Joel said, not amused whatsoever at the snow. he kept himself professional at all times. he was only soft around Ellie, and possibly Tommy if he wasn’t being a little bitch. you were supposed to be patrolling the area, not playing in the snow like children.

ignoring Joel’s blatant attitude, you stuck out your tongue, hoping to catch a snowflake. “what the hell are ye doing?” Joel asked, disgruntled. “yer damn tongue’s gonna freeze off.” you shut your mouth, and turned to look at Joel. did this man not know any whimsical joy? no happiness? I mean, sure it was the apocalypse, but was he allergic to fun or something? you cocked your head, confused. “c’mon, don’t tell me you’ve never caught a snowflake before, Joel!” you laughed. the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. “Joel! you’re shitting me, right?!” you laughed, suddenly very cocky. “hey, knock it off, kiddo. we’ve got work to do, y’know?” Joel said, crossing his arms. but he had set his gun down, wanting to tag along, even if he didn't want to look too enthusiastic about it.

you quickly grabbed Joel’s arm and brought him out from under the huge trees. “so, you just stick your tongue out and wait, huh?” Joel asked, his left brow thick as it quirked upward. you nodded, your own tongue out, awaiting a pearly snowflake.

your big eyes were warm and soft, your lashes and hair having some snow in it. your shoulders were dusted with the lamb-colored nature essence as well, making you seem… really pretty. Joel took a deep breath, turning away, needing to recollect himself. fuck. you were barley in your twenties. he’d look like a pervert if anyone knew just the way he looked at you. you were successful as you caught a snowflake.

the snow burned your tongue a little, the icy fragment fresh and near crumbling just from the warmth of your breath. you closed your jaw, your tongue feeling the ice melt and become water in milliseconds. you swallowed, content.

you heard Joel let out a long, hard sigh. “one…” he grunted, holding the sleeves of his heavy jacket. “just one, alright?” Joel said. the smile on your face made him inevitably smile, and he felt his cheeks warming up under his silky chops. damn you and your stupid charm, your stupid smile, and those stupid eyes…

Joel felt dumb holding his tongue out, whirling around like a dog trying to catch his own tail. when he got a snowflake, he choked and barked, “fuck! why does it burn?” he asked, disgruntled and a little embarrassed. “oh, yeah… the snowflakes can hurt sometimes. sorry Joel,” you said timidly. Joel narrowed his eyes at you, but swallowed the chilled water leftover from the ice anyways. “was that fun?” you asked excitedly, bounding behind Joel when he started to walk away. “not really. it hurt, and i looked like a damn dog waitin’ for that stupid snowflake.” Joel said, trudging through the snow, eyes sharp as he patrolled the area. “but you did it anyways.” you remarked, timidly walking closer to Joel. he didn’t seem to mind much.

Joel looked down at you, stopping. he brushed some snow out of your hair, his gloved hand rubbing your cheek affectionately. his touch was so soft, even though the glove was rough. swallowing, Joel stammered, “you’ll need a bath when we get back…”

₊⊹⁀➴

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller x gn reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller tlou #tlou

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yuomizuu · 20 hours ago

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♡ | holiday, peppermint candy ── childe x reader !

synopsis: it’s the most wonderful time of the year in which everything is merry and bright! well.. it would be, if you weren’t so cramped with schoolwork. but as the saying goes, there’s always room for a christmas miracle to find its way in, even if temporary.

additional: w.c 1.6k ⸝⸝⸝ ( content includes: modern au, uni au established rs, gn reader, holiday fluff, mini smau snippet at the end )

(🧣 ) yuomi’s note: plays the trumpet poorly – introducing my holiday piece of the @stellaronhvnters secret santa event! this gift is specially written for and in dedication of @mitsvriii !! i hope you enjoy this piece ohka ^w^ ahshwaj i lowk struggled for a bit trying to grasp childe’s character since i haven’t ever written for him before so im hoping i got his characterization right for the most part😭im wishing you a very happy and wonderful merry christmas and a happy new year as well! may the coming year treat you kindly in your future endeavors <3

once more, it appears as though that particular time of the year is starting to steadily approach. where a light snowfall pleasantly greets you on a slow morning and you bask in the tranquil silence of the world outside through frosted window-panes whilst the city transforms itself into a snowglobe of winter wonderland.

for some individuals, they cannot help but dread this time of year. the idea of having the once long days now cut short, shoveling heaps of snow off their cars or driveways, and wearing layers upon layers of clothes just to keep warm was anything but agreeable. of course, you understood such sentiments; it wasn’t like you haven’t had your fair share of difficult winters before such as that one time you ( unfortunately ) ended up waiting an hour for the bus outside in the freezing cold, only for it to never show up. your entire body had felt completely numb, you almost couldn’t even bring yourself to walk back to your apartment thinking that it was probably a better fate to just freeze to death. needless to say, you ended up skipping out on all your classes for that day — something that your boyfriend, ajax, found to be far too exciting than it should have been.

because while you remained moping and complaining to him on the phone about having to miss out on your classes and therefore, unable to take notes which will undoubtedly cause you to fall behind in the semester, he appeared to have other things planned up his soft winter sweater sleeves.

“—and the worst part about it is that the professor doesn’t even upload the lecture slides online! how does he expect us to have our notes written down when we can’t even have access to the damn thing?”

the frustration in your tone is evident and ajax does his best to respond with understanding of the situation, something you appreciate him for in that moment because archon knows you’d be long spiraling into a panic by now without his voice of reason. “i’m sorry to hear that babe, is there no one from your class that you can ask to send you the notes?”

heaving out a sigh, you sink further back into your bed with a frown, running a hand over your face. “no… lynette is usually able to help me with that but she went away on some holiday vacation with her family last week. i have no idea how she isn’t stressing out about this like i am.”

”hmm, what about emailing your professor for the lecture notes?”

for the next short while, you and ajax went back and forth on discussing different solutions to your dilemma with the former occasionally voicing a ridiculous suggestion like raiding him in snowballs or sending him an overbaked, unsavory fruitcake for the holidays. admittedly, they coaxed a chuckle or two out of you, briefly distracting you from the overtaking stress until you need to quickly redirect the conversation back to that matter at hand.

as the two of you continued to discuss however, you couldn’t help but notice the odd sniffle or two that would sound on the other line

”ajax, are you coming down with a cold?” you asked, an undertone of concern in your voice that elicited a soft chuckle to ring in your ear.

”no, no, i’m alright babe. i was just outside for a bit taking out the trash. it was supposed to be scara’s turn but you know how he is with this kind of weather.”

an unknowing sigh of relief slips past. “okay good — make sure you’re bundling up properly before going out, and warm yourself up right away once you get back inside. you’ll catch a nasty cold if you don’t.”

”i will, i will..” you could almost hear a slight hint of a smile in his voice as he answered. even when you were in the middle of dealing with an academic crisis, you still went out of your way to make sure that he was doing okay. “buut… i want you to warm me up instead.”

“huh? me?” you question, pointing to yourself as though he could see you in the first place. “i mean unless there’s a way for me to do that through a phone call, i don’t think i can even—eh? ajax?”

the call abruptly ends with the other end hanging up and you pull your phone away from your ear, blankly staring at ajax’s intact page in confusion. strange… did he lose signal? a power outage maybe? or maybe his wifi’s finally kicked the curb.

just before you could press the call button again to see if you could still call him, the sound of knocking on your door grabs your attention. with a small groan, you climb out of bed and make your way over, unsure of who awaits on the other side. honestly, who would even be out and about in such cold weather in the first place? and yet to your surprise, the moment you open the door you’re suddenly enveloped in a chilling embrace.

“ack! ajax?” well that was certainly unexpected.

burying his face into your neck, the man lets out a small, content sigh, his warm breath fanning against your skin which is a complete contrast to the coldness nipping at his nose — or his entire body for that matter.

a shiver runs down your spine. ”ajax! you’re freezing!” you complain, attempting to squirm out of his grasp that only results in him tightening his arms around you even more.

”that’s why i’m hugging you, so you can warm me up,” he mutters, voice muffled against your neck and you can't help but almost deadpan in response.

“that’s such a cheesy thing to say..”

“maybe, but you love it either way!” he remarks, pulling back with a smile that you always resembled to a golden retriever ( demeanor wise ). he then feigns a look of thought. “or would you prefer if i did this instead?”

before you can even take a moment to wonder what he means, he’s already reaching out and cupping your face with his ice cold hands, the feeling of which has you yelping in protest once again. “babe, no! stop treating me like your personal heat warmer!”

yet no matter how many times you attempt to pull your head away from his hold, he doesn't seem to budge in the slightest, simply staring at you in amusement. eventually though, he relents from torturing you any further with his teasing antics, giving a light pinch to your cheeks until he leans in and captures your lips in a brief, chaste kiss that manages to make your face grow flush, almost to the point where you can’t tell if it’s his hands that had warmed up already or your face is just too hot to even realize.

“now that i’m all nice and warm, we can start having our indoor christmas date!” ajax says, welcoming himself further into your home without explaining himself any further.

“wait… what? ‘indoor christmas date?’” you repeat, still a bit dumbfounded from the kiss shared a moment ago. closing the door behind, you walk over to the kitchen counter where ajax as already set down his backpack, watching him pull out the various things carried inside one by one.

“well, since you won’t be able to attend your classes today, i figured it was the perfect opportunity for us to spend the day together instead. look! i brought packets of hot chocolate we can make, your favorite christmas movies–along with some of my own–and i even found these cool little gingerbread house building kits in my dorm!”

you have to admit, a part of you can’t help but become intrigued at all the items and activities placed before you. college so far has been nothing short of stress and fatigue on your already weary self, taking up so much of your time throughout the past month or so. because of that, you’ve barely gotten the chance to even enjoy the festivities of the holidays this year, too preoccupied with meeting deadlines and wrapping up group projects. now that you’re presented with the opportunity to indulge in the holiday spirit and best of all, with your boyfriend, you’re almost tempted to give in. but…

“ajax, this is all really sweet but.. i really can’t spend the day doing all this, i’ll still need to catch up with my classes online and do the work there–”

“c’mon babe, please? just for a little while and then i promise i’ll help you figure something out with your classes.”

archons.. there he goes giving you that look again, the one he knows you can’t resist no matter how much you attempt to deny it. you let out a sigh of resignation. “.. okay fine. but only for a little while and that’s it.”

that supposed plan of yours ended up going down the drain real quick.

although the situation with your professor ( or the rest of your classes for the day ) was far from over, you would inevitably find yourself forgetting about that situation entirely throughout the rest of the day. your build up of stress would be released via warm cuddles beneath soft heated blankets and equally warm cups of hot chocolate as you and ajax would have a marathon of some of your favorite christmas movies. but that was of course after you two spent a good while making your gingerbread houses together. at first it started out as a cute little activity with the goal of just getting the pieces to remain standing for longer than two seconds but after about ten minutes or so into the session, that was when you noticed ajax began to get a little too invested into his gingerbread house. for now though, you’ll simply ignore the way he went full on architect mode on his building–sooner or later all his hard work will be reduced to nothing but mere crumbs and leftover pieces of candy, but you won’t tell him that.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

divider credits: @/issysh3ll

#hvntersecretsanta #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #childe #childe x reader #childe x you #ajax x reader #ajax x you

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disastrouscanasta · 17 hours ago

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@evidenceof happy christmas yna!!!! i was your secret santa this year, and it was an absolute BLAST! you were the best giftee, very thorough in your answers to my asks, and if i didn't need to maintain anonymity for so long, i would have picked your brain on soooo many of your wonderful thoughts. YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE PAIRINGS SO WELL, and literally every prompt and idea you gave me was SO amazing, and incredible to explore. thank you for being so lovely <3 for you, i have a fic that i've worked on over the past few weeks, inspired by your prompts!

A Busy Blur | runner/leckie | 2k | post-war, developing relationship, a touch of epistolary & long-distance love

“You’ll write to me, won’t you Cobber?” Runner said, a playful lilt in his voice. Leckie could have sworn he caught a flash of something more vulnerable, more honest, from around the bags under his eyes, under the furrow of Runner’s brow.

“If you learn how to read, sure.” Leckie said.

And Runner laughed, mouth splitting open in a bright smile that drew Leckie’s attention away from the bruises and the sling his friend’s arm was suspended in.

The first letter was simple.

Leckie,

I bet you’re home safe, now. And if you’re not, well, that’s your fault for being the only idiot sonofabitch to get hurt on the train ride from the harbour, instead of being killed by artillery. Somehow, that sounds about right.

Hope the mailing address is right,

Conley.

Leckie smiled wide when he read it, forgetting that he was sitting across from his stone-faced father at the table, half-eaten eggs forgotten in front of him when he had Runner’s letter in his hands.

“Did you get a cheque?” His father asked, speaking up for the first time since he’d come into the dining room and filled the seat at the far side of the table, away from his son.

“No,” Leckie answered simply. If his mother was there, she might have pried, probably asked about a girl, she’d have put just an inch more effort than his dad ever had.

His father made a short grunting sound before turning back to his paper.

(He read the Philadelphia Inquirer. Leckie himself worked for the Philadelphia Record. Figures.)

Leckie kept a notebook on him at all times, but he used it most at sports games, taking notes on the plays and activity of the baseball season. The notepad was filled with shorthand accounts of who was doing best, who was doing the worst, teams and rosters and everything he could come up with.

Some days (most,) he wasn’t granted the privilege of good seats, or even tickets to whatever sport was being played. But he had to write the damn article, anyway. So he sat by the radio, listening to the play-by-play accounts as they happened, with their paper’s roster open on the table in front of him.

His notebook looked something like this:

23/04/‘46

NY Giants vs. P. P.

JUDD, Oscar - pitching.

^ 3 SO

NORTHEY, Ron - batting

^ Home run, flyball to deep RF

SEMINICK, Andy - batting

^ Single, F. MCCORMICK SCORES

Playtime : 2hrs 14mins

PS: tell Runner about the weather

He’d been surprised at how easy it was to slip back into camaraderie with Runner.

But then again it had been easy on the boat, too, when—

Well, that was in the past. And even if there had been a few road bumps, they had never stopped being friends.

The war being over, reassuringly, didn’t stop that.

Runner,

He wrote at the start of his response, and paused.

Runner’s letter sat next to him on his desk, under the warm light of the lamp. It had been dark for hours, and Leckie just couldn’t bring himself to put anything on the page until nearly midnight.

That letter had started with Leckie, and wasn’t that awfully formal? They’d gotten to know each other more intimately than most people would ever manage and— Leckie. It was impersonal. He’d expected something more ridiculous, Peaches, Cobber, something like that.

Leckie was sticking with Runner, for his own purposes.

(It had taken everything in him not to write Dear Vera. Less out of intent, and more out of habit. He’d never sent her any of his letters, and by the time he got him, she was already married. She looked happy, at least.)

Runner,

Got home in one piece. Based on your letter, and the fact that that chicken-scratch is unmistakably yours, I’ll guess that you’re alright stateside.

Since we haven’t got a war to talk about, I’m telling you a bit about work (a bit of complaining, so that you know it’s really me.)

The Philly Phillips won, 5-2. The paper made me sit by the radio box and take notes like some kind of spook, you’d think I work for the Russians, if you saw me hunched over my notebook like that. Last week, they got me a ticket to the actual game. We lost, with three points down. I think I’m cursed, if my presence makes the team lose.

Whatever. It’s still better than scraping out a latrine, with you sorry folks for company.

Leckie.

He posted it in the morning, and tucked Runner's letter away in his drawer.

Hoosier promised to write, so did Chuckler, and that Phillips kid, but ultimately, every time he got handed a personal letter by the postman, it was always, always, from Runner.

It felt ridiculous. He’d gone a whole war with those fellas, and they didn’t say so much as hello? But hey, what was he supposed to do?

(Their mailing addresses were tucked away in the same drawer that he kept any letters he got from Runner. They had his, he had theirs, and maybe his was part of some ongoing game of Chicken that he was playing with Hoosier. Either way, Runner didn’t care.)

Cobber,

The newest letter said, because Runner had quit with the Leckie pretence and cut to the chase with the stupid nicknames. Leckie couldn’t help but feel relief. Too many people had called him by his surname in the Marines. And back home, too many people called him Bob. Runner managed to find that surprising middle ground, by letting Leckie be someone else completely, just for a moment.

I’ve got a reason to write this, for once. Today, is Memorial Day. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is the government telling me to take the day off and get wasted, flashing that little veteran’s tag to get a discount at my local drink house.

Now, you’ll get this on, what? Beginning of June? Take some time for yourself, have a drink. (I’m not paying, though. That’s up to you, and your fancy paper job.)

Runner

If there was one thing that Leckie could be assured about, it’s that Runner’s letters would make him smile. He started reading them in his bedroom, instead of cracking the letter open in the dining room, where his parents had to see.

Everyone seemed to expect him to have left the war overseas. And it might have been over, but he couldn’t help but yearn for something that he’d had then. Not war, but something that had been so closely linked with the brutality of it all, that he didn’t think he’d be able to articulate it to anyone.

Maybe, he pondered, Runner understood him. Runner had understood him better than a lot of people had. On the boat ride home from that Australian hospital—

Runner just got it.

Runner,

He started, a couple weeks later.

You should get this by July 4th, and I wish you a good Independence Day. Go to a barbecue, wear your dress blues, go to a banquet.

I hope it’s better for you than it will be for me. My parents are leaving me all alone to spend time with my brother and his wife, a couple towns over. I’m expecting to spend the night tucked up in my bedroom, shouting bah, humbug! everytime I hear fireworks. I hope the reference doesn’t go over your head— I can explain it in my next letter.

Leckie

The Fourth of July was more miserable than he’d expected. The commotion stirred up more in Leckie’s chest than he wanted to admit. The fireworks were too loud, and July was too hot. He laid on his childhood bed in nothing but his boxers, staring up at the ceiling, working through his third glass of beer.

At some point, he got up, pulled a paper from his desk and started writing.

Runner,

These damn holidays might be more exciting if you got closer.

There’s a good bar near my work, they do swing dancing on Thursday nights: I’m sure it’s your venue. You’re the best dancer I know!

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

I won’t pick Hoosier over you, this time.

Leckie.

In the morning, after a cup of coffee and an aspirin for his headache, he read it through (as well as a typed page-and-a-half of hazy memories from Mbanika, which he crumpled into a ball and tossed under his bed.) and tucked it carefully into the drawer with Runner’s letters.

He didn’t really want to think too hard about all that.

Peaches,

I got the reference, thanks. I like to think you have those big mutton chops that I remember from those old pictures. You’re called Peaches, but you’re not all that sweet, are you?

That’s not a real question. I know the answer.

Hope your Independence Day was as boring as mine. I forgot how loud those things were.

Runner

Leckie couldn’t stop writing them. Stupid, ridiculous messages that really meant nothing.

He put them in his drawer, tucked away just in case he ever needed it. Leckie didn’t think it was vain, but some of them were well written. He didn’t feel that too often, so he kept them.

I saw a guy with your haircut, made me look twice just to be sure. I should have known it wasn’t you; he was taller.

That one was scribbled in his work notebook, while he was at the game (Phillips vs. Chicago Cubs), and the audience clapped and jeered around him.

You’re a marine, but how well can you swim? I’ve never asked.

Leckie wrote that question on a napkin in a diner. His pen ripped through it at the end.

I miss the boys. I miss you.

He didn’t write that one, but he heard it reverberating in his head when he flicked the lamp off. It was burned into the backs of his eyelids, anyway.

I miss you.

He was surprised that he meant it.

Professor,

That was how Runner opened his next message. It made Leckie smile. (Of course it did. They all did.)

Why DO we celebrate Labour Day? I saw them putting streamers and banners and what-not up in the streets today. New York City is a funny beast— you should come by, watch the parade.

Hope you get a day off work, and some time to yourself. (I’m still not paying for your drinks)

Runner

Leckie stared at that message for longer than he had any right to. By the time he sent his reply, Labour Day had passed, and he could only wonder what Runner had meant by any of it.

Runner,

I’ve got to come up with something more exciting for you. It’s difficult when I can’t see all the ridiculous shit you’re getting yourself into. And you don’t have the inclination to write it to me, I bet.

I’d call you a coward, but you’d call me one right back. Have you ever realised that we bicker like school children?

Leckie

To the man who mocks me,

Yeah, well, it’s hard to come up with nicknames for you too. That one just now was shit.

You want to know what I’ve been up to? Really? Well, I’ve got a job at the steelworks, which is great and all. Except I ran into a piece of machinery the other day, busted my lip wide open. There was a hell of a lot of blood. I think the 16-year-old kid who works next to me fainted. How’s that?

We’re both cowards, so what? We served our damn country.

Buster (I sure buster’ed my lip open. Get it?)

Bruiser,

All I have to say is that: you’re an idiot!

Yours,

The brilliant professor who’s kept himself out of danger

Leckie thought about Runner too much, he realised.

Some part of him was always waiting for the next letter, waiting to write, to come up with something short and stupid to say to the man, just so that he could imagine Runner’s familiar laugh.

Shit. Leckie thought, as he folded up another half-drafted, but unsendable letter.

Professor,

Tell me a story, if you’re so wise.

Your bruised-lipped-friend,

Runner

Runner,

If you really want to know, I’ve been more of an idiot to you.

My mother asked me this morning if I was getting married soon. I told her no.

She said that she thought I had been in contact with “that lovely girl from across the street,” and the woman she meant was the dearest Vera that everyone was so tired of hearing about. I had to break my mother’s heart and tell her that Vera moved away months ago, and that she was already married— to an army man, no less.

The old woman was more distraught about it than I was. Turns out she thought that Vera and you were one in the same. I’m surprised she never sent you an engagement present.

Leckie.

Leckie,

Hell, why didn’t you say so? I would have acted soppier.

In that case, you should come to New York this November and visit your sweetheart, how’s that?

Runner

Leckie blinked at that, then he stared for a long time, hoping to make sense of it all.

Runner,

November’s no good, I’m all booked up. How’s early December?

Leckie

To a difficult guest,

I guess I can fit you into my busy schedule.

I’ll see you in three weeks, then?

Runner.

Leckie booked a train ticket before he could convince himself otherwise.

Then, he stuffed a handful of his little messages into an envelope, scribbled Runner’s address, and mailed it all without a second thought.

Five days letter, he got an envelope back, inside, with no signature, was something simple, etched in Runner’s charming chicken-scratch:

We should have done all this in February. I would have wished you a happy Valentine’s.

#hbowarsanta24 #the pacific #runnerleckie #leckierunner #whatever they’re called lol #ruckie

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yourstrulyrika · 14 hours ago

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authors note: it may be reaally rusty sorry about that !! it’s christmas and i spend it alone, so i wanted to write something, and whats better than leon fic? it’s quite short, sorryy

included in fic: fem!reader x leon, piv, cunninglingus, really sweet, re4 leon, you’re in a relationship with leon ♡ small angst at the beginning, not much talking in this one

Leon never really celebrated Christmas. why would he, when he didn’t have anyone? he actually felt more depressed around that time.

that is, until he met you.

you’re his sweet girl, his everything. when you two started dating, Leon was so hesitant about everything. what if you think he’s too depressing to be around? what if you’re with him out of pity? but, you showed him that maybe it’s not so bad to let your beloved in. maybe it’s okay to rely on someone.

and leon is grateful. so, so grateful.

you make it all better for him.

and finally, he has enough energy to give you the love you gave him back. it’s not your first time, but it’s the first time Leon isn’t tired. he loves you and he likes making love to you, but he struggled to give you what you deserve for such a long time. he finished too fast for his standards at least, because he didn’t feel well mentally. you never forced him, always reassured him, but it was still lingering in his mind. he wasn’t doing enough in his head. and it really bugged him.

so this Christmas — this special day, he goes all out. he prepared everything. the lights, the atmosphere, the temperature to make sure it’s not too cold for you. the whole day, he’s been on his knees. literally, because he can’t pull away from your sweet pussy. he’s addicted. he’s so dedicated to you that you can’t think properly anymore, yet he’s not stopping.

he started with gentle licks, then sucks, switching from fast pace to slow pace, studying your body to see what’s getting you going the most. his tongue circles your clit, fingers teasing your entrance. he’s rock hard, but he’s so obsessed and pussydrunk that he does not give a damn. all he thinks about is having you creaming his tongue. he sets up a steady peace until you’re coming all over his face, until his face is covered in your nectar. you want to return the gesture, to stroke his cock till he’s coming all over your hand, but he gently moves your hand away.

“let me focus on you, yeah? it’s all about you. your pleasure is mine, too.”

words are not a strong suit of Leon’s. quite the opposite. but he always tries to show you that he means what he says. and today, it’s by making sure you see starts.

he wants your eyes on him and him only, and that’s why he puts you on your back, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. as always, his hand is on yours, just to reassure himself you’re real. it’s a comfort for him. he makes sure you’re not overstimulated before he teasingly taps the tip of his cock against your clit. sliding in, he lets out a quiet groan, squeezing your hand tight. you’re just so warm and you feel so good, it makes his head spin.

his movements are slow but deep, hitting all the right places while he keeps eye contact with you. he’s so deep inside you, it’s almost overwhelming, but he’s got you. giving you kisses all over your face, but never stopping his thrusts. he’s observing you and your reactions, trying to see if you’re overstimulated or not. but you seem to love how he’s moving inside you, so he smiles. he aims for that special spot that makes you arch your back so sweetly for him, and when he finds it, he’s blessed with the sight of you in so much pleasure. it’s all he ever wanted really.

your pussy is making him see stars, too. the way you’re squeezing him, desperately trying to keep him inside. he’s not pulling out, he wants to make sure your mind is absolutely blank before he finishes. his hands go to your thighs, pushing them up so he can get deeper into you. your eyes roll back, pussy gushing around him, and he plays with your clit until your thighs shake. you’re so close, and he’s all there for it. he’s pushing his pace a bit faster just to give you everything he can, until you come around him. and even then, he keeps going, helping you come down your orgasm. when you’re satisfied, he pulls out of you. he made you cum so many times before he actually slid in, so he gives you the best aftercare he can. he doesn’t want you to be sore in the morning.

he gives you a warm bath, washing your back and covering your face with kisses. he’ll give you his gift tomorrow, when you wake up. for now, he’ll let you sleep, but not before he whispers a quiet “I love you”.

merry christmas everyone !! i wrote this and it kinda sucks but i tried to write something to ‘relearn’.

love u !

#leon kennedy #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut

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soap-is-an-artist · 2 days ago

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gonna ramble about charlie and auron because i just got out the premiere and. holy shit.

if I'm way off base on my analysis i am so sorry, im still processing, these are just my initial thoughts on stuff. and if you disagree id love to discuss it!

okay so first things first i screamed a LOT. I was so relieved when Charlie said he wasn't mad at Cas [i would've cried probably]. Auron made some truly wild comments. case in point: "I would probably slap the taste out of your mouth if it wouldn't mean getting you all hot and bothered just in time for Casper to drop me off at the office, pull into the parking garage, and fuck some goddamn sense into you." I YELLED OMFG auron. you can't just SAY shit like that. Then the Disney princess line. Charlie sounded so weak when he said "can we go back to that part about 'Casper fucking some sense into me'??" And Auron answering with "Not until I'm outside of the vehicle. You'll have to find someone else to watch." AURON. STOP PLEASE IM GONNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK FROM LAUGHING

alright moving on from that let's get to the serious shit. Charlie is justified to be angry about Auron interfering in his personal life; it ISN'T a healthy way to interact with people, whether you want to befriend them or not. Auron orchestrated this whole scheme because he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, and you know what? I get it. He doesn't know what normal is, and it's not really his fault that he doesn't know. But he can at least try? Wikihow is free, brother /lh

Charlie wanted a fresh start. He wanted to disconnect from the dangerous world that Auron is a participant in, he wanted to earn his own way in the world, earn a bit of self damn respect like he deserves. Auron undermined all that, despite his good intentions. He lied, big time. And that's kinda shitty and not okay!

Was it about control? Keeping a hand on loose ends, like Charlie thinks? Auron just wanted to "protect him", right? Well, as someone who has had much of their life controlled by people who ALSO just wanted to "protect" me, that's a very weak excuse for taking away someone's agency. Now, our situations aren't exactly the same. Auron is not Charlie's parents [THANK GOD] and there actually some things Charlie isn't aware of that he needs to be protected from! But this was not the move. Like.. at all.

What's my solution? I dunno. But maybe don't force all these things to happen. Perhaps send an email rather than getting your guy to hunt down your former employee's childhood friend/crush and sneakily reunite them behind his back? Or at least try the email first, Auron. Charlie calling Auron out on playing pretend, "just writing one of your little stories"... ouch. But does he kinda deserve that? Yeah. I think so.

[Side note: Charlie talking about how if he'd sought out Cas on his own terms, it would've worked out because they fall in love every time? "Because that's where I'm supposed to be." I. fucking. fell over. I had to fucking BITE something omg. Yeah im biased in this argument sorry lol, i definitely have a favorite here]

HOWEVER: Auron admits that he was wrong! He is not an unrepentant man and he DIDN'T double down! That is a big point in his favor imo. He doesn't actually say "sorry" but he uses a lot more words to mean something... similar? I guess that's a fanfic writer's way. I get it, I also elaborate way too much. So, an actual clear cut "Charlie, I'm sorry I fucked with your life behind your back just because I wanted to be friends with you" would've been nice. But this will do for now.

Also Charlie you REALLY need to watch out for Finn that guy is a freakkkkk he will fuck you up big time. Not normal Finn. The magic one.

Okay I'm done typing whatever pops into my head with the barest pretense at organization lmao, I'll revisit this in time once my thoughts marinate a little more

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice charlie #character analysis

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tmrwsuns · 2 days ago

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(❆⋆.˚) pretty like snow !

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [choi hyunwoo x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.5k w. curse words! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

maybe telling your friends about your crush on hyunwoo hadn’t been your best idea yet.

look, you understood that they were trying to be supportive after you told them how haunted you were by the feelings you harbored for a certain friend, but this was not what you qualified as supportive.

you mentally cursed at your friend from the back seat of the van you found yourself in, holding onto the handle on the side of the car for dear life as you tried to not squish hyunwoo to death in every curve the car took a little too fast. you should’ve known, really, that they would pull some shit like that on the trip they planned. but you were naive, thinking only of achieving your lifelong dreams to spend christmas up in the mountains with your friends.

you kind of regretted it now, because making you sit next to hyunwoo on a four person row that was currently sitting five people was just the beginning of what would be four days of complete embarrassment and torture.

“yechan move your ass, i’m squishing the poor girl” hyunwoo said as he tried to push yechan further down the seat, the poor boy being squished between hyunwoo and hunter’s girlfriend, and your best friend, aerum.

“i can’t move! areum is taking up too much space” the younger boy complained as he glared at the girl sitting next to him.

“i’m not! hunter is too big for this row!” she retorted, making the mentioned guy roll his eyes with annoyance.

“you said you wanted me to sit with you!”

“i literally didn’t, i wanted to sit next to yn!” she complained, and you rolled your eyes again because you knew damn well she had orchestrated this whole thing for you and hyunwoo.

“can you guys please stop screaming?” junghoon asked from his comfortable, incredibly spacious double seat in the front.

“easy for you to say” yechan said as he childishly moved around, looking for more comfort. “that’s it, someone had to take one for the team and get on someone's lap”

your eyes widened in fear. oh, fuck no.

“not it!” you screamed, your pointer finger flying to touch the tip of your nose. you were followed by the rest of them, hyunwoo being the last one.

“fuck!” he complained, making you chuckle lightly in victory.

“someone has to carry him, not it!” areum blurted out as quickly as she could, keeping her finger in place.

you were fast, but not fast enough. your finger flew back to your nose milliseconds after hunter’s did, leaving you speechless at the fate you had met.

“i’m not carrying him” you complained, shaking your head.

“he can carry you, you’re the losers so figure it out” yechan said, smiling proudly.

“i’m a girl and i’m uncomfortable with this” you spoke, earning groans from the boys in the row and laughs from the ones in front.

“don’t play that card, that’s so unfair” yechan whined.

“i’m surprised you even made me sit here, really” you continued on with your drama.

“she’s right, you guys are so impolite,” junmin agreed from his place in the passenger seat.

“you’re the one with the single seat, it’s literally your fault,” hyunwoo defended.

“if she gets a single seat then i should too!” your best friend chimed in.

“you’re sitting with your boyfriend, just go on his lap” you pressed, glaring at her jokingly.

“if i do, everyone will start whining about us being coupley!” she retorted, making hunter nod in agreement.

“let’s all stop whining and suck it up,” minjae interrupted for the first time, looking stressed in the front seat. “yn can get shotgun when we drive back, but if you could deal with it for four hours you can deal with it for two more, now shush before i drive us off a cliff”

silence followed after the oldest spoke, all of you reluctantly shutting up until seeun’s voice arose for the first time.

“who told him he’s the leader?”

and hell broke loose again.

…

“yn, hey, wake up” you heard a distant voice call out as a hand shook your shoulder slightly. you opened your eyes reluctantly and confused as to where you were until everything came crashing down when your groggy eyes met hyunwoo’s. “we’re here, you’ve been asleep for the past hour”

thank god.

you nodded and sat up, stretching your body slightly in attempts to wake yourself up more, missing the small smile that took place in hyunwoo’s lips at the sight.

“aerum wanted me to let you know she wants to crash with hunter until yujun gets here, so i think you might have a room all to yourself” he commented as you both got out of the car.

you had rented a six room house, and since yujun had stayed back to take an economics final, you had the privilege to stay alone for two of the four nights you were staying there.

“oh, thank god” you sighed contently as you walked towards the house “i was not prepared to deal with how messy she is”

hyunwoo chuckled at your words, and your heart melted at the sound “do you think that’s how junghoon talks about me?”

“oh, yeah, definitely” you teased as you entered the building, smiling at how big and cozy it was.

you missed the way hyunwoo’s eyes stayed fixated on you, admiring your smiling face like you had hung all the stars in the sky just for him until his thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice approaching the both of you.

“you guys have been chosen to go grocery shopping, by the way, congratulations!” sumin said cheerfully, patting hyunwoo on the back.

“what? how?” you complained.

“we played rock paper scissors and you weren’t there so you lost” the older male shrugged, winking at you when hyunwoo wasn’t looking. “so take the car and go ahead”

you groaned in protest, knowing it was no use to argue with him and grabbing the keys before heading out.

the drive to the store was filled with random chatter and the sound of the radio playing whatever it could pick up, mostly old songs. both of you headed into the bulding, hyunwoo grabbing one of the large carts and letting you lead the way.

“i think we should forget the cereal sumin asked for” you commented as you read the list sumin had sent you. “he doesn’t deserve it”

hyunwoo chuckled and nodded in agreement “i like the way you think, yn” and you had to bite your tongue to not squeal like a little girl.

“i’ll take this one instead,” you smiled and tiptoed to attempt to grab the cereal box that stood unnecessarily high on the shelf. hyunwoo noticed your struggle and moved to help you, his hand instinctively holding your waist as he reached for the box.

“here, i got it” he said, voice almost a whisper as you stood almost frozen in place. you had been friends for a long time, but being that close was completely uncharted territory.

“uhm, yeah, thanks” you mumbled when he moved away, trying to regain your composure. “next is green onions, we can’t forget the green onions” you rushed, walking away and leaving a slightly confused hyunwoo behind.

“i guess she really likes green onions,” he muttered to himself as he followed you.

…

a whole day had passed since the cereal aisle incident, and even if nothing had actually happened, you couldn’t help but act awkward around hyunwoo. he hadn’t done anything wrong, of course, but the way he made you feel with every single tiny action of his was starting to worry you.

“i can’t act casually around him, it’s so bad” you groaned as you sat with aerum on the front porch of the house. “he genuinely makes me want to scream and giggle just by smiling at me, i think i have a disease of some sort.”

your friend snorted softly, shaking her head. “you don’t have a disease, you have a crush” she pushed your shoulder with hers “and i think he feels the same”

you looked at her once you heard her words, glaring at her slightly and jokingly “don’t get my hopes up for nothing please”

“i’m not! i promise” she smiled as she ruffled your hair “you should just go for it, i think he’d be more than happy if you did”

“i’ll think about it” you smiled affectionately as you watched her stand up when hunter got out of the house, waiting for her to join him. “i’ll see you later, enjoy”

“bye hun, think about what i told you!” she exclaimed before walking hand in hand with her boyfriend. you watched them leave with a small smile on your lips, wishing that was you with a certain someone.

“hey” you heard someone call from behind you just as you were going to stand up, making you turn around to watch hyunwoo walk towards you.

“hey, what’s up?” you smiled, your hand moving to play with your rings as a nervous habit.

“nothing much, i just saw you here alone and i thought i'd join you” he returned the gesture, sitting next to you. “i wanted to talk to you, too”

your heart began racing at his words, thoughts flooding your head trying to figure out what he could possibly need to talk to you about.

“sure, go ahead” you tried to mask the nervousness in your voice.

“i just wanted to apologize for making you uncomfortable yesterday at the store, i didn’t mean to,” he said, and you could hear how nervous he was as he looked anywhere but your direction. “i promise i wont get that close to you again”

your eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, a pang of guilt stabbing your chest as you realized what he meant. “you didn’t make me uncomfortable, hyunwoo”

his eyes flew to yours immediately, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “i didn’t? then why are you acting so weird?”

oh.

you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“don’t even worry about it” you said, trying your hardest to dismiss the fact that he had noticed the effect he had on you, even if he didn’t know why.

“you sure?” he pressed, and if it wasn’t for the embarrassment that invaded your entire being you would’ve thought it was cute how much he cared.

“i’m sure, i really don’t mind having you close to me” and that just made it even worse.

you were on the verge of standing up and walking away towards the woods where you would eventually (hopefully) get lost and disappear when you realized his body had relaxed significatively, a small smile overtaking his pretty lips. “you don’t?”

“not really” you said, barely above a whisper as you tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

“good, i’m happy to hear that” he said as his smile only grew wider. a couple seconds passed before he scooted his body closer to you, his shoulder now slightly grazing yours.

“the snow is pretty, isn’t it?” you said to break the nervous silence that surrounded you, making your strongest effort to bite back a giddy smile.

“yeah, beautiful” he breathed out at the same time that you turned to look at him, finding him already staring at you.

…

“it’s christmas morning, yn, don’t be a grinch” seeun said from the other side of the door, his consistent knocking starting to drive you insane.

“it is barely morning, it’s seven am” you groaned, covering yourself further with the covers as if that were to shield you from your friend’s annoying voice.

“if you can check your phone for the time then you’re wide awake, now come on before i open your presents for you.” now that woke you up.

“you wouldn’t dare” you exclaimed, sitting up from your bed abruptly.

“believe me, i would” he dared, and even though you knew he wouldn’t, you couldn’t risk it.

“give me five minutes and i’ll be right down” you groaned as you stood up from the bed, going to the adjacent bathroom to get decent to go to your friends.

a smile overtook your face as you walked down the stairs, all your friends sat under the christmas tree the house had come with, dressed in ridiculous festive pajamas as they eagerly waited for you to join them.

“i’m here, go ahead” you chuckled as you approached them, seeun not sparing you a single look before he jumped right ahead to find what boxes belonged to him.

“morning, yn” hyunwoo smiled as you made your way onto the couch, where a spot next to him was conveniently available.

“morning hyunwoo” you smiled back.

“IS THAT YN? GIVE HER THE PHONE” a familiar voice screamed through hunter’s phone, making your attention shift towards it. the boy handed you the phone and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of yujun. “HI YN” he exclaimed.

“hi, yujunnie” you chuckled affectionately “how are you?”

“bad, awful, stuck at an inn in the middle of nowhere with no presents whatsoever” he pouted.

“i’m sorry, that sucks” you mentioned, feeling bad for the boy in the other line.

yujun sighed exaggeratedly “it’s fine, there's a pretty girl here so at least that’s that.”

you giggled and continued to talk to him for a couple more minutes before moving onto opening presents with all your friends. you were in the middle of cleaning up all the wrapping paper when you felt a tap on your shoulder, hyunwoo being the culprit.

“can you come outside with me for a minute?” he asked, sounding a bit more nervous than he wanted to. you nodded and followed him outside, hugging your arms as the cold air hit you. “i got you something else” the boy smiled as he extended a small box towards you.

“thank you, hyunwoo, that’s really sweet of you” you thanked as you grabbed the box, not trying to hide the smile he caused you. you opened the gift and let out a soft breath at the sight of a small necklace, a charm sitting adorably in the middle. “it’s so pretty, thank you so much but why-”

“sumin told me you like me” hyunwoo interrupted.

your eyes widened as you looked up to him in fear, experiencing the five stages of grief in a single second before trying to quickly brace yourself for the rejection you had ahead of you. you were going to kill sumin.

“he did what?” you asked, the tone of your voice betraying your astonishment.

“he only did it because i like you too, and i wanted to tell you soon because i know how much you like christmas but i was really scared because i didn’t know if you liked me back, so he had to convince me somehow but i wouldn’t believe him so he told me” he rambled on nervously, his inexplicable ability to speak coming out to save you in a moment of panic.

you stood there for a couple of seconds, unable to move or say anything at the shock that was knowing your crush liked you back.

“yn?” hyunwoo asked, trying to bring you back to reality. you couldn’t find the words to express the happiness you felt in that moment, so you did what any sensible person would do; take his face in your hands and smash your lips together.

★blue's corner ;; i hope you guys enjoyed it ! this is part of the love actually series which im doing on both of my blogs so check the rest out ! ★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @fairytopea

#hyuwnoo #choi hyunwoo #hyunwoo x reader #xikers hyunwoo #i love him #xikers #xikers drabbles #xikers x reader #hyunwoo drabbles #✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ tmrwsunswrld #✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ xikers #✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ hyunwoo

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