#more like um a wish in the wind

[plush-rabbit]

Cookies and Cream

I saw someone on the jonathan ohnn x reader tag ask for angst and rejection and im kinda in a mood (when am i not tbh) so here’s a snippet!! 

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Realistically, i would like take a chance, but like also if my partner showed up with spots and no clothes, i’d be like oh:^) im about to make an important decision:^)

He’s a nerd- that’s a given with his profession and PhD, but he’s a dorky type of nerd that makes you smile. You like to think that you have a nice relationship with the doctor. He’s cute and awkward. He knows what you like and dislike.

You remember him buying you chocolate- the cookies and cream type- and knew that there was something going on when you don’t eat the candy. Explaining how you have such an aversion to spotted things always seemed silly when explaining to others- you always tripped over your words or never explained it properly- but he sat and listened. He nodded, and never brought you cookies and cream chocolate ever again.

Jonathan was considerate. He was a sweetheart, always so gentle and only really let his guard down when around you. 

It’s been days since the Super-Collider exploded and it’s been days since you heard from Jonathan. You tried not to fear the worst; you reasoned to yourself that if something had happened, something bad, you would have been notified. 

You’re in the middle of scouring various articles for any mention of the deceased or lost and his name doesn't pop up. Your mouth pulls into a thin line and you groan, throwing your head back in an attempt to let out your frustration.

“Any sign of him would work out just fine,” you mumble to yourself. You pull yourself back, an arm going across to rub at your shoulder. “I just-” tears prick at your eyes. You want him to be safe. Alive. Here with you. “Please,” you beg under your breath. You just want your partner with you. 

In the room, you hear a soft plop. When you look back at the room, there’s a person in a white suit standing in your living room. You scream, grabbing at the nearest object- the television remote- and chuck it at the intruder. They yelp in response, moving awkwardly to the side, throwing something dark at the object and the remote clashes beside you, batteries spilling out.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The person screams, hands covering their head. “I should have said something, but I only just came in.”

“Get the fuck out!” You reach for your phone, unsure if you’re going to call the police or throw it away. 

“Please don’t throw it at me.” He says your name with familiarity and disgust pools in your stomach. “I’m sorry- really, I am. I just- I don’t have your key with me and I thought knocking would’ve freaked you out more and I know I look different but-”

“Who the hell are you?” You hiss, holding the phone tight in your hand. 

“It’s me,” he says, as if that answer is anything useful. “It’s me, Jonathan,” he clarifies. After a moment where he’s positive you won’t throw anything, he pulls his arms down, and stands tall in your living room. All air escapes your lungs, and you hold whatever is left, unable to move as your phone slips from your hand and drops to the floor next to the remote. “Hi,” he says softly.

You wish you could run to him, but you’re rooted in place. With a good look, you aren’t sure what to make of him. His face is gone- hidden beneath white and a singular black spot that covers what should be his features. You can’t trust this to be your Jonathan.

“Prove it,” you mutter. You clear your throat, and stand straight, puffing out your chest. “Prove it,” you repeat with an ounce of force. Your hands curl into fists, and your heart races in your chest. “Take off the mask.”

The person in front of you laughs awkwardly, raising a hand to scratch at his neck. “I- I can’t do that.”

“I’m calling the cops,” you say, hoping that you’d be quick enough to grab your phone, unlock it, and call for the authorities. 

“No, no! I mean, uh- you like it when I kiss your hand. You kiss my palm and I press it against my lips, and when I kiss your hand you always kiss at the spot,” he says in a rush of words. “Sometimes eating strawberries is a struggle for you, so I make sure to cut them up. Um- uh,” he turns his head around as if the answers to his identity are painted on the walls. “You have this mole on you and I always kiss it when we-”

“Oh my gosh.” You interrupt him, and there’s a chill going through your body. “Jonathan?” He nods, taking a step forward. “What- What are you wearing?”

He freezes in his spot, and stands straight. “I’m not wearing anything. I- Something bad happened back at Alchemax. I mutated with a black hole and-” he lifts his arms up in a show of himself- “I’m this. It’s skin.” He pinches at a part of his arm and pulls, and it stays connected to him.

“Skin?” You hiss out, staring at him up and down. “What do you mean?”

“It was Spider-man. He- he did this and now I look like this- but-” he shakes his head and takes a step towards you- “I’m home. I’m sorry. I know you wanted to move in with me but uh-some things happened and-” he pauses when he notices you haven’t stopped staring at him. “I know I look different, but it’s me. You know me.” He says your name softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice even though there’s no mouth. When you don’t speak, he presses further. “Please. Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” You ask, and it comes out cold.

“Tell me that you’re happy to see me,” he offers. When you don’t make a sound, he gives another option. “Ask if I’m okay.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you were happy to see him. You think you are. You should be. You wanted to see him just moments ago. You should have specified that you wanted to see your partner as your partner and not some mutated person. 

Taking another glance, your stomach drops at all the spots- all the holes that cover his body. You should be happy. You should be holding him and asking if he’s okay. You should be thanking the stars that he’s in front of you. But you can’t. And you won’t. Not when the sight of him makes you nauseous. 

You can’t look at him. It’s too many spots- too many holes. You think you’re going to be sick. You remember telling him how you hated spots- trypophobia is what he told you it was. You couldn’t eat cookies and cream flavored anything because of the spots, on bad days, strawberries made you sick. He knew that. He knows that. He’s the one who was always so careful to not give you so many punctured items. But he’s here now and you hate it. 

Guilt eats at you. It makes you nauseous, and scared. You wish you could look at him. He croaks out your name, and even without a face, you can tell that he’s crying. Your teeth are clenched, molars pressing into each other, and when you peek, you turn away again. No. You can’t look at him. Not when he’s like this. Not when he’s not Jonathan. 

“Please,” he croaks. You hate how your name sounds on his tongue. It’s pathetic and sniveling, and you can’t help but swallow the bile that burns your throat. “It’s still me. It’s still your Jonathan. I- I know I look different, but I- I’m sorry.”

“Jonathan,” you say, spit laying heavy on your tongue, “looking different is like a scar or bleaching your hair. You-” you gesture to him- “don’t even look-” human. He doesn’t look human, but even as you’re close to being sick, you can’t tell him that. That would be going too far. “You don’t even have eyes.”

With his long legs- too long to ever have been human- he takes quick strides towards you. His stomach touches the edge of the couch, and you see the spots swirl, contracting in size, and erratic as he speaks. 

You’re going to have to wash the couch- somehow.

“I can still see!” You shut your eyes tight when he speaks. “I- I don’t have anyone else.” His voice quivers. Closing your eyes was a mistake- it still sounds like him. It is him, but it isn’t. “I thought you- you wanted to move in with me.” The sentence breaks your heart. His voice makes you want to hold him like you did nights ago.

The air is cold and it makes your skin rise with goosebumps. You wonder for a moment if his skin does the same, but the mental image of it makes you regret even thinking about it- about him. Your lungs fill with air, and you have to brace yourself to look at him.

Looking at him is so much worse than you could have imagined. The spot in the middle of his face is deflated near the top, and he’s sad. Him expressing emotions with a spot makes everything so much worse. The dark of it spirals, the edges of it fading into a small cluster of spots that reminds you of poorly mixed cookies and cream. It takes all of you to look at him. 

“I wanted to move in when you-” when he looked human- “when you had a job. When you - where even if you lost the job, you could- I don’t know, find another one.” You’re shallow. You wish you weren’t. You wish it were another poor soul that got infected with spots.

“Please,” his voice is fragile, tense and heavy, and his hands rise, and they’re loosely wrapped around your own, until you pull back, scrambling to get away. 

“Don’t!” You hold your hands in a clawed pose, shaking until they form into fists. “Don’t,” you whisper out, pulling your arms closer to your body and further away from him.

His body is shaking, shoulders rising and falling, and there are these broken gasps of air coming from him. He’s calling your name, pleading for you to accept his apologies. He feels bad about touching you, and you can’t help but want to wash your skin until it burns. 

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes out. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Please-” your name sounds broken when he speaks it out loud- “I promise I’ll find a way to reverse this. We can figure it out. You- You said that you would take care of me when I was sick.” 

“Sick, Jonathan,” you spit out, unable to stop yourself from glaring at the man across from you. “Like the cold or something serious like a broken bone or fucking radiation poisoning. Fuck!” You look away from him, and catch his reflection in a piece of furniture. It’s warped and unsightly. “It was shit like that Jonathan.” Tears pool in your eyes- burning and overflowing, and your face scorches under all your emotions. “Not this. Not when you don’t look-” you have to say it, it’s lodged in your throat, and it’ll stay stuck there until you get rid of it now- “human.” You’re the absolute worst- you’re sure of it. 

Your name is called once more. You hiccup and keep your gaze away from him. “It’s still me,” he says in a low voice, hurt interlaced into every letter. “We can- I know that this is new and it’ll take some getting used to, but we can make it work.” You stay silent, biting on the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from crying. “I wouldn’t leave you if the situations were reversed.” You flinch, and you hate that you know he’s speaking the truth. He wouldn’t leave you. Not when you needed him the most. You wish the building would crumble and you’d be crushed by stone and pipes. “I won’t bring this up ever again. We can figure it out, and I’ll never hold this against you. I promise. We can start fresh.” He so desperately clings to the relationship, and you both know that if you were to move forward, you could never forget this conversation. He could never forget how you were so quick to abandon him. “I promise.”

It’s selfish. You do this for yourself. You want to live a life that doesn’t involve hiding a man who is longer human. “I want to go out on dates. I want to watch a movie.” You turn to him, and the tears burn themselves into your skin. “I want my friends to see you.” You shake your head and take a step back, furthering yourself from the man before you. “I can’t do this, Jonathan.”

He shakes his head, and you wish that you cared for him the way that he cared for you. “We can do that. I can do that.” He takes a step forward, and you take another step back. “I- I can wear clothes and hide myself and we can go out.” The spots on his body swirl, expanding and moving across his body. They break apart at the edges, scattering smaller spots across him, and it makes the acid in your stomach fill your mouth. “Don’t do this,” he pleads. “Please.” He’s crying, and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to comfort him. 

“I can’t see you anymore, Jonathan.” You turn yourself away from him. “I mean it. I can’t-” you wave a hand towards his direction- “I need you to leave Jonathan.”

“You can’t be serious.” You don’t answer, and that in itself is an answer. “I- I thought you would still want me.” You flinch at the words. You thought the same too. “Please don’t do this. I promise, you won’t see my holes. You can cover me and I’ll- I’ll hide and-”

“Jonathan,” you say curtly. “I need you to go.” You refuse to look at him. “Please, Jonathan. Just- Just get out.” Even in your worst of fights with him, you had never kicked him out, and now when he needs you the most, you kick him out. You wish that someone would put you out of your misery.

There’s a pause in the room, and you can hear his ragged breathing. “I thought you loved me.” You refuse to answer. “I love you.” You grit your teeth and shut your eyes until organic shapes in different colors swirl behind your eyelids. The confession makes you bite your tongue. 

It’s silent for a long time, and when you open your eyes, you’re alone in your home. The only evidence that gave away that something bad happened was the television remote and your phone that lay on the floor. A sob cracks through your chest, and you smother it with your hand, forcing yourself not to cry. Not now. Not when it was you that demanded the break-up. You wanted him, but not when he was this- when he was that. You wanted your Jonathan.

[mariasont]

hiii! I read your last spencer one shot AND I LOVED IT! IT WAS SO SWEET AND YOU'RE SO TALENTED!! Would you write something about post prison reid and shy reader? I was thinking of her as the media liaison (in my mind she is old-fashioned in music and clothes I'd wear skirts everyday, her emotional intelligence makes her good at her job, despite her shyness). Maybe she's clumsy, especially when she gets nervous and more especially (I don't even know if that's grammatically correct) when she's around Spencer.

Thank you so much for reading this, you're doing an EXCELLENT job, your works are a masterpiece!! 💕💖💝💓💓💖💞💕💖💓

Make a Wish - S.R

a/n: eekkkkkk post-prison spencer reid has me in a CHOKEHOLD! thank you so much for requesting, i'm so sorry for the delay! i hope i did your request justice!! I LOVE LOVE YOU!

masterlist

pairings: post prison!spencer reid x shy!reader

wc: 0.9k

You had been meaning to give the reports fastened in your hands to Spencer for give-or-take two hours now. Each time you gathered the courage to approach him, just one glance, one simple stupid glance from those piercing eyes set your nerves on fire and sent your brain in overdrive.

As the new media liaison from the narcotics unit, you were warned about the BAU's intimidating figures, particularly Rossi and Emily. However, no warning came regarding Spencer Reid. They mentioned his tendencies for long-winded explanations and awkward social interactions but not the aura of intensity he exuded. Whenever he entered a room, you instinctively started looking for an exit, not because of his criminal record, but because you found yourself hopelessly mesmerized by him.

He was perfect in every sense of the word—brilliant, compassionate, selfless, and an exceptional agent. At least, this is what you had observed from afar. A part of you was scared that any real interaction with him would shatter the idyllic image you had crafted in your head, and you weren't confident you were prepared for such disillusionment. However, you needed to give him these damn papers, dreading the alternative, which was getting summoned to Emily's office.

"Hi."

You did it, okay, first step complete. You opened your mouth, determined to get out the next part you had practiced a little over twenty times in your head, but the words seemed to dissipate into a misty fog in your brain.

"Um, these are for you," you said, rocking back onto the balls of your mary janes, placing the report on his desk. "It's the Henderson lie detector test transcript?"

"Is it?"

You realized you had said it like a question.

You paused, the part of your brain stuttering for a second, trying to flip over the thousands of scenarios you had rehearsed in your head for this interaction. None of them had included those words.

Just a little off script and you felt your fight or flight kick in—nails digging into your palms as you avoided eye contact.

"Yes." A little more confident this time, not by much, and it quickly deflated as you second guessed yourself, stepping closer to peer over his shoulder at the document. "At least I think."

"I'm just messing with you, it is." He said, eyes flickering down to the document, then to you. "You okay?"

"M-Me? Okay? Yeah, of course." The words were stumbling out of your mouth at a rate that was hard to keep up with. "Do I not look okay?"

"No, of course you look okay," he responded, brows knitting together as his gaze traveled down your body, no doubt dissecting your every thought. "You just seem... a bit nervous."

You opened your mouth, aiming to articulate a coherent thought, but it fell short and was quickly interrupted by Spencer.

He suddenly leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Wait, hold still; you have an eyelash."

He was so close, you swore you feel his breath on your cheeks, instantly warming them. Your body was in overdrive, trying to recalibrate as his finger grazed the area under your right eye. You closed your eyes, almost unwillingly, relishing in the unexpected touch.

This was weird. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, and you balled your hand into a fist, attempting to mask the way you were shaking.

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daze. Your eyes followed suit, meeting Spencer's prying eyes. His finger was raised, your eyelash perched on the tip. Your face could have been a furnace, flames of heat spreading from your neck to your nose.

"Do you want to make a wish?"

He looked at you expectantly, eyes darting from your face to his raised pointer finger.

"Okay."

You closed your eyes, forming the wish in your mind before blowing on the lash. You watched it float to the ground, settling gently on the toe of Spencer's shoe. 

"What did you wish for?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to tell you that," you say, pulling at the ends of your hair.

He was undeniably good-looking. It wasn't like you were just realizing it; you had eyes and you were only human. But up close, you could see every detail—the dark circles under his eyes, the rough stubble under his jaw.

"I think you're right."

The sudden intimacy of the moment made your heart skip a beat. You stepped back, nodding at his words and also nothing in particular.

"Anyway, yeah, those are the papers—," you began, turning to walk away. As you did, you bumped your hip into the desk beside you, hissing under your breath in response.

"Christ, are you okay?" His hand was on your hip as the words came out of his mouth.

The touch only seemed to intensify your embarrassment. You stepped out of his grip, dropping your phone as you did which you quickly bent down to pick up.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine, just forgot I have a meeting with Emily, so I'm just gonna—," you pointed towards her office, quickly making your escape from Spencer as you tried to catch your breath.

Once you were a distance you deemed safe enough, you allowed yourself a quick glance back at him. He was smirking, and you felt that all familiar heat rising into your chest once again.

You really hoped that wish would kick in soon.

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[all-purpose-dish-soap]

WAIT I LOVE THAT PUSHUP FIC. can you do one with Gaz and the reader daring him to say their name in between push-ups, and Gaz catches on, but does it anyways.

10 / 1,186 words / takes place immediately after doing push-ups with Gaz

...

You watch Gaz from the corner of your eye, listening to him say your name in that low voice with each rep, grunting with concentration. Music to your ears. 

His toned arms are tense with each push-up he executes. Gaz doesn’t work out to be buff or get attention. It’s all about function and utility on the battlefield for him, which means he’s not one for showing off. But you appreciate it, and you can tell he notices it by the smirk curving his lips.

He knows what you're doing. He knows exactly why you made that little request of him.

"You want me to keep going?" he asks. 

"I have no problem with that.”

"Can't imagine you would."

"Hey. Less talking; more counting reps."

"Did I say I was in the market for a personal trainer?"

"I think you did, in fact," you tell him facetiously. You're still sprawled over his back, admiring how your weight barely seems to affect him each time he lowers and then pushes himself back up. "Lucky you have me here to keep you on track."

"Yeah, lucky me." He grunts a laugh and does another pushup. "Because that's my problem. Staying on track."

"I hear a lot of chatter and not enough saying my name between reps, mm?"

"Think I'd better stop doing that. You like it too much."

"And you said you wanted a challenge. Do you cut corners in the field, too? Does Captain Price know?"

He lowers himself again and holds at the bottom for a moment to increase the tension and stress on his muscles. "You're asking for it, you know that?"

You smirk, shifting yourself a little to fit more snugly against the curve of his back. "Are you threatening me, Gaz?"

"You wish." He chuckles, hardly sounding as winded as he should. "You'd be lucky for me to pay you that much attention."

He's not wrong. But still, the nerve.

Luckily, you notice you haven't heard him counting aloud, either. "What rep are you on now?"

He pauses at the bottom of his rep, then lifts up again, not quite as fast as before. "Sixty-three."

"Liar. You lost count, didn't you?"

"Of course not. You think you're really that distracting?"

You grin. "You said it, not me."

He pauses his rep at its apex this time. You glance at him, sensing the gears turning in his head. For a second, you wonder if you should be proud of yourself--if you've struck him speechless with your blistering wit.

Then he bends his elbow and drops one shoulder almost to the floor, dumping you unceremoniously off his back. You land ungracefully on your stomach with a gasp.

There's a strange look in his eye. Thirst for vengeance. You scramble to right yourself, but it's too late. Gaz drags you off the ground like it's nothing and pulls your back to his chest. He wraps his much thicker arm around your bicep and leans back, forcing your arm over your head in what you vaguely recognize as a submission hold.

You huff, trying to squirm free. His other arm comes around across your midsection to keep you in place. The fact that you're pinned in his lap doesn't escape you.

"Now who’s the distracted one?" His voice is right at your ear. "You want to tell me again how many reps I did?"

"Fifty-five. I counted."

His grip tightens. He leans back just a little more, causing your back to arch. "Try again."

You grab his arm with your free hand and try to dislodge it. Its no good. His arms are like steel. He doesn't budge an inch. 

"Told you you were asking for it." His breath is warm on the shell of your ear. "Count again. Or I'll turn this half nelson into a full nelson."

Your cheeks warm. "Perv."

"You started it. Or don't you want me to say your name again?"

"I have a perfectly innocent explanation for that."

"Let's hear it, then. Go on."

"Um." You squirm a little more in his hold. His breath in your ear is making you feel crazy. "It's actually... because..."

"Because?" He's smiling now, his arm tightening against your skin. You can feel every thick muscle in his biceps and forearms. "Because what?"

You struggle to keep some kind of half-baked explanation centered in your mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't think about his chest pressing flush to your back. Or his thighs squishing your ass. Or his arm around your midsection, so close to your breasts you swear he'd brush the underside if he so much as flexed.

"Because what?" He asks again, and his voice is so husky it makes you forget all your rational thoughts. "Tell me."

"... Sixty-three," you mutter.

He laughs, the rumble of it shaking his chest against your back. "So which one of us lost count, boss?"

"I did."

"Yeah, you did." He shifts, easing the pressure on your arm. He doesn't release it completely, though. "If you wanted to hear my voice so bad, there are better ways to ask, yeah?" His other hand begins to wander down your side. Your skin burns under your workout tank. "But if you want to be a cheeky little brat about it..."

Before you can react, he bites down on your ear. Not cute and flirty, but hard enough that it hurts. Especially when you squawk and try to pull away.

"Ow!" You shove your elbow into his solar plexus.

He lets go of your arm, gasping and wheezing with laughter as he leans back. You're both surprised at how much force you packed into that elbow jab.

He smiles, though. His heart is racing from adrenaline, and when he looks at you, all pouty and out of breath, he realizes it's a good thing he's not still holding you or he might really do something stupid. He likes how quick you are, how feisty.

"That's mean," you snap.

"And calling me a pervert wasn't?"

"No! And even if it was, your thing was worse."

"Oh, yeah?" His usual soft grin turns roguish. "You wanna get even? Bite me back?"

"Gaz!"

"Then you still owe me." He stands up, stretching until his tired arm muscles pop. "So I'd better see you here tomorrow, same time. What do you say?"

You stand slowly, watching him grab his gym bag. "What if I say no?"

"I'd say you're shirking your duties as my trainer. And my counterweight. Besides, you wouldn't skip a chance to have me say your name again." He pulls the straps up over his shoulders and winks at you. "Right, boss?"

You open your mouth and close it right back up again.

Gaz has just enough self-control not to bite his lip at that rather cute expression. "Good."

He walks away, leaving you red-faced and speechless behind him.

He's right. You'll definitely be back tomorrow.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[yumeboshi]

Happy 100!! I’d love to see the nostalgic starfruit sundae :0

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @cakeboxie .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡．．

𐙚NOSTALGIC STARFRUIT SUNDAE：almost makes you feel younger。

𐙚 dish desc。．when you two were younger, he crushed on you even back then。

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。pure starry sweet fluff finally, a little non canon in aven, teen setting/late teens in aven’s, bittersweet

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday and aven

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY

。before becoming what he is right now, he was a sweet and probably shy boy who, during your first meeting, could not utter a single word and unintentionally let Robin do all the talk 。he will feel so foreign, poor him; he has never felt such an influx of emotions. he’d stammer over his words, forgetting everything about what his family taught him about ‘etiquette’ and will always end up looking stupid because he really can’t do anything around you. 。“sunday, are you listening?” “….ah, yes. sorry, I was distracted. um, please continue.” 。i definitely see him stalking you, just like in a cute way. when you’re out doing your own business or hanging out in golden hour, he’d just stare at you from afar- probably from his estate’s window like some deprived owl, completely entranced by you- the way you smile, the way you laugh at someone’s jokes- the way your hair ripples with the wind like soothing waves— was he daydreaming again? 。it gets so bad. he’s obsessed, daydreaming, even robin knows her brother’s head is in the clouds. the dreammaster hereby then prohibited him from seeing you, because you were getting in his plans to educate him since all he’d ever talk about was you. you were his new priority- he doesn’t even care about the order anymore; making the dreammaster grumble about when he’d raised such a lovesick boy. 。but gopher wood did not foresee that the young boy would do anything daring at all, like rebuking his orders.

STARLIGHT is near and you’re already hiding under the Oak Family’s residential area where you’re probably not supposed to be inside one of the back garden’s bushes, patiently waiting for your romeo to come.

How could you refuse? He was the loveliest, the sweetest and the most handsome boy you ever met, albeit not meeting a lot of kids your age. His wings too, were so fluffy and so cozy to lean into. Your little heart could comprehend these foreign feelings as a crush.

And there he was- your young prince, quickly stepping out of the window that’s barely open, tipping to the floor like a dove that’s free from its cage. Every step he takes is already elegant and authoritative, it reminds you that you are not his class, and you should not be here.

When your face peeks out of the bushes, his expression immediately lights up as if someone had brought all the stars from the sky to his face, he immediately runs to you and laughs breathlessly. “You’re here.”

”Shhh!” You frown and put your small hand to his mouth. He looks around at that- his wings tickling your nose, and he shrugs- “—I don’t see anyone nearby.”

“But the scary old man might be—“ you break off, and your heart skips a beat when you hear footsteps. Without thinking, you quickly hug sunday and pull him into the bush out of terror.

A second has passed. Two; or three, maybe. You lose track of time because of his loud heartbeat thudding against your own. You were not sure if it was out of fright or out of this complex feeling neither one of you were knowledged in.

You snap out of it quickly, because it made your head spin as if a swarm of butterflies were invading it. The dreammaster was gone, but neither one of you were moving an inch.

It feels time has stopped. Maybe you are wishing it did, because you know all too well that this would become a fleeting memory.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE

。one day, after facing a similar massacre in your own planet, you are thrown into captive under a shady man. 。you are not alone, but you are more annoyed by the fact that your cellmate is an avgin. you are pretty sure your parents had told you countless stories about their wicked ways. 。kakavasha, on the other hand, is enamored by you. the way you snap back at your captor, the way you are defiant- even in such stakes. it enchanted him. it even inspired him. 。when he’s still a little kid, he’d follow you around like a little puppy despite your annoyance. 。but when you grow a little older- maybe around your teens, he hits his growth spurt, and he grows almost unrecognizable- yes, those tantalizingly beautiful eyes of his stay the same; but he just becomes so.. manly. masculine, almost mature- it’s hard to believe the quiet and puppy-like boy grew up to be such a fair.. man. 。but one thing that did not change a bit with him was the way his usually bored and dead stare would light up when he sees you. he teases you a lot, he likes to practice his tricks on you, simply because it’s endearing how you snarl in frustration at his antics. 。you are his personal pair of sky blue shades. you changed the way he saw the world forever- looking at you, he could think that the world might not be that cruel, if it doesn’t take you away.

ALTHOUGH his long awaited freedom has arrived- to the hands of an unknown woman who calls herself jade, he felt as if his world was crumbling again, all too familiar to what he felt when he was younger.

What about you? You have no clue about his release. He’d sworn to you he’d stay with you forever whether you liked it or not- he still remembers how you snorted and dismissed it with a light blush across your cheeks, scoffing that all the avgins were liars anyway- he’d laughed and told you he wouldn’t ever lie to you, ever, which earned him a glare and an embarrassed slap.

He tried to deny it. He wanted to say no. He couldn’t leave you here, no. you were his wild card, the one chip he would never, ever gamble on; because he cherished you over himself. you are the one thing he’d never risk— his only love, you have his whole world, you’re like a diamond key to his closed and broken heart.

But life was truly cruel, because he knew right now that it was his last chance to break free from the burdens of his past. His heartache will perhaps be soothed a little, after leaving those memories behind. But it means he will have to leave you behind as well.

Although his heart screamed no, that he was your one and only and he had to stay with you, his rationality whispered a different tale- echoing the woman’s promises of freedom.

And here he was, selfishly walking to the cell that held all of himself. You were there, barely awake, looking up at the sky that is too beautiful for the words he is about to say to you.

He takes in your ethereal figure underneath the twilight, your eyes are the cosmos itself, reflecting the moon inside them. He always took pride in his eyes, but nothing could be more beautiful than yours. he’d fallen in love with them the first time you two met. they are almost deceptively exquisite enough to make someone like him lose his rationale.

He is about to say something but your finger presses against his lips- you don’t turn to look at him; your eyes are fixed somewhere afar. “I know,” you say quietly.

So you knew? He hid his surprise. He had thought he did a good job acting it up. He shakes his head with a laugh- of course. This was you. You knew his every expression, the faintest of creases on his face, you could see right through him.

“Then I suppose I don’t have to entertain you with any cheesy goodbyes. Do you wish to say any more words?” He asks with his playful smile, albeit he knows you know he’s trying his best not to break down.

You hesitate, and then hold his hand gently. “Take care, kakavasha.”

At that, he could not take it anymore. He leans forward to kiss you, for the last time, and he tastes like memories. He tastes like your annoyance, your laughs, your cries, you feel like you are experiencing your childhood all over again like a broken record. Something bitter graces your mouth and you realize it is his tears.

“Always trying to act tough, just don’t do that in the outside world.” You laugh into the kiss, and you feel him smile against your lips. He tilts his head away, glancing somewhere else to mask how vulnerable he is- but you stop him, you look into his eyes that are far too distinct- they are seas of magenta, wavering each time he blinks to conceal any tears.

As his lips part from yours, he feels himself slowly dissipate. Kakavasha was no more.

[arminsumi]

WHO IS SHE?

↳ GOJO さと��� + fem!reader

A Kyoto student gives the Six Eyes a run for his money during the tournament. Are they really fighting or just flirting?

M.LIST

1.2k

Summary : during the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, a student Gojo encounters someone who can match his strength. It's not humbling. It hurts his pride. But neither of you can deny the tension between you two. You and him are just flirting back and forth like crazy, forming a lustful rivalry.

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : mature/18+ content, not proofread, blood, innuendos / suggestive jokes (use of daddy, kitten), sexual/romantic tension, rivalry, making a sexual bet (bj if gojo wins ���), cliffhanger ending ig

Note : ayo... AYOOOOOOO!!! i found this idea in the drafts from 3 months ago and wrote smth for it... LET ME KNOW IF U WANT MORE??? bc there's more content for it... hehe 🤭💗 it's got that rivals that wanna fuck type beat ig

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

There's crimson blood dribbling out his nose, and he wipes it away in amazement.

What the hell just hit me?

"Heyyy Six Eyes~!" you smile, split-sitting on a branch.

Gojo Satoru rears his head up at you and squints from the sun. He makes out your figure, hears your voice, and feels this sense of mortality. It gives him a rush.

Fuck. Who is she...? That Kyoto student?

"Oh. Hey Kyoto Princess." He returns condescendingly. He sinks his hands in his pockets to look at ease, though he's anything but in your presence right now. You really shook him up there.

"The blood looks hot on you." you flirt and cause his heartbeat to accelerate.

"Uh-huh... you gonna stay up there like a scaredy cat or you gonna come down here and show me those claws again, kitten?"

He's trying so hard to scramble up those words. He's trying so hard to seem intimidating. To stand his ground against you. He's trying so very, very hard. He's straining himself. Neck tendons pronouncing with his hard swallow. Sweat beading off his forehead.

Damn the summer sun. It makes the tournament so much harder. Though admittedly, he'd be startled by your technique during any season.

You lean down and make a feline movement that makes something click in the horny region of his brain.

"Nah, I like the view from up here... why don't you climb up 'n come give me kitty cuddles?" you say.

Ooh. That voice is chilling. I like it.

"No fucking way." he laughs incredulously. "You can come."

"Oh is daddy giving his kitten permission to cum?" you play.

His eyes go wide. "What the fu—"

There's a rush of wind, your friend interrupts the awkward flirting and comes to your side and asks you what the situation is.

"Why the hold up? You said you'd come 'round again, I was waiting for you. That bangs guy is kind of a menace... 'coulda used your help."

"Sorry..." you smile and maintain this electric eye contact with Gojo. "I got a bit infatuated with Mister Six Eyes over there. He's quite the cutie pie."

Gojo's heart flutters... and he hates it. He feels boyish because of you. Like he's just some dumb teenager with a crush on the hot girl who gave him a nosebleed. Literally, in this case.

"Uh... okay...? Sheesh. Were you trying to fight him or cause deforestation?" your friend grimaces at the splintered and split trees. "Um... anyways... can we go, or are you two still busy flirting?"

"I'm coming, alright." you wink at Gojo.

"What the fu— SUGURU."

Oh, such good timing. Bangs guy appears.

"What's the hold up?" Suguru asks.

Your friend chimes, "That's what I was asking! These two are fucking flirting!"

"Haha, what? Oh Satoru... why is your nose all bloody?" Suguru asks nonchalantly.

"A cat scratched me."

"...? What? What happened?"

"She happened." Gojo glares at you.

You wave at him. He wishes he could bite you, but he's not ready just yet to approach you.

Suguru looks at his friend, then at you, then at the damaged trees, and his features grow both impressed and confused.

"You're telling me... a tiny thing like her did all this?"

Gojo shrugs funnily, "Yeah, she's pretty romantic, isn't she?"

You wink at him. He feels a pang in his chest and furrows his brows.

"Okay. Yeah. Sam, I see what you mean about them flirting."

"Right?"

You giggle. Gojo groans.

There's an auditory announcement echoing through the forest.

Today's event is ending, please return to the starting point.

"Aw, playtime is over. See you next time, Six Eyes."

"Keep callin' me Six eyes, princess, I fucking dare you." Gojo seethes.

All four of you trek back to the starting point. Gojo is stealing hot glances of you, looking grumpy but feeling his pants tighten. You're sweating from the heat. So is he.

I can make you weak for me. Just you wait.

"Satoru, tell me all about it. I want the details." Suguru leans close and asks in a hushed tone. You're busy talking to your friend, outright humiliating poor Mister Six Eyes to her.

"She's too damn fast." he grumbles, rubbing his neck to get the tension out. You really gave his poor body a beating back there. "Like a flicker in my vision... uh, but the main reason she was a challenge was because of all that flirting, of course."

"Oh, yeah right..." Suguru rolls his eyes, then leans even closer, "Was she really flirting with you?"

"Yeah..."

"Lucky."

"What the hell, Suguru." Gojo laughs.

"You should make a move. I'm sure she's got a thing for you. She keeps looking over." Suguru encourages.

"Are you high? She really fucked me up back there. Anyways... I think her flirting was condescending. That's why I flirted condescendingly back. Shit what if she was actually flirtin' with me..."

Satoru and Suguru look at you. And you look back. Your friend is snickering and it bothers Satoru.

But nothing bothers him more than that smug face of yours. He marches right up to you in the corridors later, when it's just you and him.

He pins you right against the wall and you giggle, letting him show off his strength and height.

His breath tickles your face, his eyes threaten to burn your soul.

"Next time, I'll win." he seethes in a deep voice. He notes how you squeeze your thighs together.

"Wanna bet?" you smile seductively.

"Sure. If I win, you have to tell all your cute little friends about how Mister Six Eyes is stronger than you." he says.

"Okay. Whatever. If I win..."

He listens intently.

"... I get to suck your dick."

He blushes. Stutters. Brain freezes. Malfunctions.

Wow. What. Huh?

"Haha, you're cute. Have you never received head before?" you ask forwardly.

His conscious skips beats, words tumble out.

"I — uh... y-yeah of course I have!" he lies.

"Sure you have, big boy." you bring your lips closer and he dissolves. He's so fucked. He's so turned on by you it's actually pissing him off.

He doesn't move away, just lets you graze your lips over his own. You make him shudder. Make his cock start to strain against his tight uniform pants.

"So... are we taking this bet then?"

"Y-yeah... yes. Um. Yes. Absolutely. Please."

"Haha... okay then. See you tomorrow... Satoru~"

Wow. You just broke him there. He doesn't move or speak, just stands motionlessly blinking at the wall as you slip away out of his pinning grip.

He thinks to himself;

Nah. I don't think I care about winning anymore. Screw pride.

But then comes the next morning and... he swells with pride.

Nah. Screw her. I don't need to feel her lips wrapping around my dick.

"Hey, Six Eyes." you greet him at the tournament grounds, flirting so unashamedly that you earn a very disapproving looks from the teachers.

"Hey, Kyoto Princess." he greets back, "flirting" too. His stomach flips when you lick your lips suggestively, as a callback to the bet you made with him.

"Wish ya luck." you tell him.

"I don't need it." he retaliates.

Suguru and your friend just distantly watch, snickering, at the sexual tension between you and Gojo Satoru;

Your natural rival. When he was born, so were you, meant to exist as the only thing that could weaken the Six Eyes.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[maomao-words]

Fell into the Wind Breaker fandom, got my heart stolen, so I decided to write about (some of) my favorite boys.

Also, Kiryu is my beloved, and I think he deserves more attention and love in this fandom (please).

No TWs. Just endless fluff.

How they act when they have a crush on you:

Sakura Haruka:

Oh. Oh.

Brace yourself for a whirlwind of profound confusion. You will simply not be able to tell if Haruka hates your guts, wishes to never lock eyes with you ever again, or actually wants to smother you with affection to the verge of death.

The way Haruka instantly blushes at your mere sight, crimson seeping all the way down to his neck and collarbone, will make you dizzy with fondness for him. But the way he equally proceeds to stammer at cheery greeting, before spitting something along the line of "I wasn't waiting for you or anything!" before huffing and puffing and disappearing, will make you feel dejected and abandoned at times.

Haruka will spend his mayhem-like crushing stage both near you, always protecting and watching over you, and from a distance, panicking at these strange feelings welling up within his heart and filling him with a warmth he has never experienced before.

My dear, be patient with this foolish child, for he has suffered so much. He likes you so, so, so much that he does not know what to do with himself. But do no fear. Once Haruka's heart is set, nothing, and no one, can make it sway away from you.

Umemiya Hajime:

If you thought spending time with Umemiya was enjoyable before, time filled with nothing but his tender smiles and light jokes, wait until you become the only person reflected in his eyes.

Umemiya will simply refuse to let you leave his side. Wherever he goes, you have to be there, hand entangled in his.

Expect to be enveloped in hugs at all times of the day, and for seemingly no reason at all. If Umemiya is happy, deep in thought, sleepy, or even hungry, he will first reach out to squeeze you in his arms before beginning to whine about whatever state he is currently in.

Brace yourself to be considered as the boss' girl, even if Ume has yet to tell you about his feelings. Umemiya will ensure you get treated with as much respect as he receives, and will make it clear for everyone in the school that you are not to be touched.

Umemiya will try to gauge your level of comfort before attempting to start any kind of romantic relationship with you, which might lengthen the crushing stage by a while. But once he feels that only an affectionate yes will be your answer, Ume will not waste any more time.

Choji Tomiyama:

You might think Choji's friendly attitude and cheery aptitude will make differentiating between his platonic and romantic affections highly difficult. But once you start experiencing being the target of his fondness and devotion, you will realize how extremely wrong you were.

If you thought Choji was touchy before, brace yourself to experience true clinginess.

Choji has to be touching you at all times. A hand at the small of your back as you walk with the team, an arm around your waist as you sit together on a bench, and even a hand tightly holding yours as you cross a busy street.

Choji's smile, bright as the sun, will increase in intensity each time you make your way to him after finishing up your tasks for the day. Expect to be showered with straightforward compliments, and seemingly never-ending praise, as you fight off a deep blush from dominating your features.

Rest assured. Choji will not be able to keep his crush a secret for long. So hang on tight and wait for him.

Kiryu Mitsuki:

Oh, to have Kiryu pine over you. What a literal dream.

Expect to be pampered. Lots and lots.

Kiryu will offer his arm to you whenever you have to walk down a flight of stairs, gently hold your hand in the crowded areas of the town, and offer you the most honeyed praises about your clothes, style, face, and everything.

Do not ever be afraid of walking home in the dark after finishing a late study session. Kiryu will always be there, leaning against the wall opposite your building, waiting for you.

His face would instantly brighten under the street lamp as soon as he spots you. He would greet you with his usual cat-like grin, before starting to ask you about your day. Kiryu will distract you with the conversation as he takes away your bag, heavy or not, and slings his own jacket on your shoulders, all within the span of a few seconds.

Late night walks have never felt safer than with him by your side, ready to send anyone, who would even do as much as glance at you, face first into the floor.

Reciprocating a crush has never felt this easy before.

[liiixsturniolos]

•°○ THE LAKE ○°•

Matt Sturniolo

⚠︎ Warnings: angst, lots of fluff and cute moments, bf!matt x "y/n" reader

: Y/n overthinks an argument, Matt reassures her, and later, they make up and swim in the lake.

You and your boyfriend Matt were at the lake. You loved to go there every time you guys visited Boston. It was so calming for the both of you, looking out at the empty, calm, swaying blue water.

This time It wasn't calming. Matt was mad. Chris has been pissing him off all day long, just with little annoying brother stuff. Matt took it seriously though, to heart, and was getting more pissed off by every dumb comment Chris made.

Matt had to get away from him. He walked down to the dock and sat on the edge, staring off into the winding water.

"Hi matt!" You shriek out and run toward him, reaching out to hug him, a smile running across your face.

"No." He nudges off your hug, declining it.

Your smile drops immediately. What the fuck is his problem.

You stand there, kind of in shock. Wondering if you should speak, or maybe he's mad at you? You work up a little courage and blurt out "What's wrong?" With a slight shake in your voice.

"Doesn't matter. Can you leave me alone?" He says rudely. With a tone which made it sound like you were an annoyance to him.

"Oh..okay, yeah,sure.." You mumble with uncertainty. You slowly stroll away. Fighting all your urges to go back and ask him what's wrong. But you know you shouldn't ask, he told you to leave him alone so you do.

He spends an hour out on the Dock, mindlessly staring into the water. You got kind of freaked out by it, starting to overthink what was wrong with him.

What if he was going to break up with you? What did you do to make him upset?

These questions were all stupid, of course. You didn't do anything wrong, but your mind wanted you to believe you had. Anxiety swirled around your body, like the cold lake water, rushing to your head.

You sat there on the scuffed up old couch at the cabin, your thoughts relentless and taunting. You couldn't take it anymore. "Shit," you whisper, lifting up your numb legs and getting off the couch.

You start to walk, then stop, then start again, unsure, worried, shaking a little. You eventually get to the dock, Matts still sat there. As he was an hour ago. You could barely see him in the blueish hazy moonlight.

"Matt." You say, your voice shaky and nervy.

"What?" He asks.

You clear your throat before speaking, and a wave of anxiety floods through your body violently, causing you to twitch slightly.

"I'm sorry, I am. Whatever I did wrong. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry, Matt." You blurt out as fast as possible, merging some of the words together, trying to get it over with.

"What..?" He asks, turning back to look at you.

You panic. You couldn't tell through his tone of voice if he was confused or angry. His eyes were on you and you weren't sure what to say next.

"Um. I- I, I, I'm trying to apologise for whatever I did. You know. To annoy you." You stutter.

"Oh my god. Oh. Fuck. I'm sorry Y/n I really am. Shit. You did nothing wrong." He insists.

You sigh and gasp in relief. The flood of nerves rushed out of your head, you realised now how fucking dumb you looked, and the fact he wasn't mad at you was good, but you were suddenly aware of how much you overthought it all, and kind of wished he was mad at you now.

"Oh. That's good." You say with a blank expression. You had convinced yourself and worked yourself up so much you didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I was just so stressed today because of last week, the meeting I had with my manager, and Chris' annoying ass just pissed me off so bad today that I had to come out here to calm down." Matt explains, his brows burying into his forehead, searching for words. "Really, I didn't mean to act like this to you or be rude, I just was so stressed."

"Oh. Damn I really overthought all this shit didn't I." You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassed about this all.

"No! No, y/n you really didn't! I get it. I do this stuff, too. I acted weird and distant. Honestly, it's not your fault, baby." He insists and smiles lightly at you.

You smile back softly.

"Y/n..." he whispers at you in a playful tone, walking closer.

"Yeah?" You smirk and look into his blinding blue eyes.

He giggles, lifts you off of the floor, and into his arms. "Swim with meeee!" He asks.

You laugh, "it's like 11 pm, Matt!"

"So? He chuckles, spinning around and rocking you in his arms.

"Matt, be careful! You're gonna drop me in the lake!" You giggle.

"Would that be so bad?" He questions in a giggly tone.

He puts you back down gently, smiling at you, and looking down at your face, analysing every feature.

"Let's jump in the lake." He says abruptly.

You look at him, shocked. He usually doesn't do spontaneous things like this.

"I'm gonna do it." He says, taking off his shirt.

"Matt, really?" You laugh at him. There's no way he's going to really do it.

He jumps into the lake, moving his arms around and warming up. "Ahhhh y/n a fish touched me!" He screams out.

You start laughing uncontrollably and decide to jump in, too, lifting your shirt and shorts off.

Your body hits the water, and you sink through the surface of the warm water and come back up toward Matt. He grabs you gently and pulls you closely up to his bare chest.

"Y/n?" He asks.

"Yeah, Matt?" You reply, gazing up at his face.

"I love you." He whispers into your ear.

You freeze. Wow. That's the first time he's ever said that to you. But it feels right.

"I love you too." You whisper lightly, smiling at hm.

He smirks, you can tell he had been waiting to say something for a while, his face lit up when you said it back.

He brushes his hand up onto your face, holds your jaw, lifts your head up to look into his eyes again, moves his face down toward yours, kisses you slowly, and sweetly, running his hands through your soft hair.

You kiss him back, wanting to stay in this moment forever.

HEYYY! TYSM FOR READING MY 2ND EVER STORY! PLEASE INTERACT WITH MY POST AND FOLLOW IF YOU LIKED IT! leave requests for new stories in my inbox!!

[n0tamused]

Um, I'm not sure if you're taking requests but I really love you're writing so I'm gonna try my luck

Could you please do a Medusa!Reader with Jiaoqiu? I've had this idea swirling around for a while.

A/n: I remember seeing those Medusa x her blind lover and I love the idea sm it's so bittersweet but can be fluffy aaaa

Contents: Jiaoqiu x Reader, angst, a bit of comfort, spoilers for the 2.5 quest!

The morning came damp and misty on the Xianzhou Yaoqing. Clouds hung heavy and grey overhead while people huddled away in their homes and offices, and shops. Gazing around it was hard to tell colors apart, everything looked gray. 

Your night was sleepless, and for the few minutes your eyes closed it was also dreamless, pebbled with touches of reality, the roughness of your blankets and the way it wouldn’t let you rest lest you left home altogether in search of that small bit of solace. You’d scarcely call it solace, but you knew a part of you would be called nonetheless, in some way. For once, you were the visitor and not the visited. And your time was limited.

Jiaoqiu opened the door, his eyes empty as they stared right through you and his ears were almost animated in their movement, rotating and flicking at each snap the snakes in your hair made, every little shuffle and whisper. He was still in his bedwear, hair slightly disheveled.

“Jiaoqiu..?” you whispered his name so cautiously, as if uttering it would break him and he responds with the softness of his smile upon recognizing your voice. His ears lightly fall, fluffy and pointed at you, shoulders slumping down in relief. 

“Ah.. it is you. It’s been quite a long time, although it feels even longer than that I confess..” he speaks so casually, stepping aside, shuffling over his own tail and inviting you in. Once inside you see the clean interior. There are no items on the floor, no low hanging plants and herbs like Jiaoqiu once described his home like. It was orderly, clean, spacious, made for him to remember and be safe in without worry. As much as it was a relief, it brought a pain to your chest, the view of his home solidifying the fate he encountered on the Luofu.

You slid up before him after the door clicked shut, your warm palms finding the paleness of his cheeks and cupping him close, tenderly. You search his eyes but find nothing, and his lashes soon flutter shut as he realizes your doings. Your hands don’t leave his skin, but his own hands find their place over your wrists, stroking gently to soothe you. You never touched him before, and he never gazed upon your face. The memory of your first encounter was a distant wisp of a memory he struggled to fiercely hold on, even as exhausted as he is. “You worry for me, my dear? I do not doubt the news… has reached you already..”

You nod in the moment, looking on at him in longing and you have to remind yourself that he was not lost. He was alive and whole, but more broken than the time you saw him off. 

“I have worried and I still worry.. what have they done to you, Jiaoqiu?” 

Jiaoqiu can’t help but frown at the tone of your voice, it hurts just to hear it, his heart twists and his hold on your wrists tightens. “Nothing I cannot deal with, (Y/n).. Please, do not scare yourself into sleeplessness. If it is of any comfort, General Feixiao has already vowed to find someone to heal my eyes.. Do not fret” he tells you but it is almost as if you do not hear him. His ears twitch at the soft sound of a hitched breath, he feels your thumb rolling across his cheek, under his eyes and your snakes hiss softly. 

He knew the chances of his eyes actually being healed were minimal, yet he wished not to bring you any more fright. It was odd to see you so fearful, worried, but no less saddening. He brought you happiness with his flowery poems and cryptic talks and you brought him joyful surprises with the bluntness of your speech. It was your large garden you usually met at, under the stone carved statue of a winding coral, pebbled with stone birds on every other branch. You’d sit at the base of the statue, back pressed against the stone, and he’d sit on the other corner of the same, never being able to gaze onto your face, but he remembers holding your hand. He never imagined such a romance would blossom from those interactions, yet it did.

He extends his hand forward, slowly moving it towards you until he feels the many little heads of small snakes bumping into his fingers and knuckles. He lets out a little chuckle, letting his hand linger and letting the curious snakes explore his skin as well. “Would you look at that.. they’re kissing me, are they?” He can feel the little licks of their thin tongues, even the snakes are gentle with him, being much more fragile than him. He feels half of the man that he once was, ashamed but he brings himself to smile nonetheless. Perhaps it was his turn to be soft and taken care of, however redundant that seemed to him. 

You scoff, the light shaking of your head pulling the snakes along with you, who in turn let out a dissatisfied hiss. 

“I should have been there..” you say, bringing his head closer down to kiss his forehead. He looks even prettier than you imagined him to be. You don’t expect him to reach for your cheek next though, it startles you but you melt into his touch.

“No. Your place is here, where it is safe” he says, resolute and firm in his words, tone suddenly washed clean from any drowsiness of sleep. “What has happened was unfortunate, yet necessary, I fear.. And were I to go back, I would have done the same.. Don’t worry about me. I can still think of poems for you, even if I can no longer see them or write them..” Your skin is warm and damp, he feels it, you have been crying. It worries him more. He presses his other hand to your cheek, bringing you closer until your foreheads pressed together, nuzzling into your warmth. The snakes in your hair seem to be in need of comfort as well with the way the slither closer, tickling his ears and cheeks with their little tongues and noses. 

“I am here. And so are you. And Hoolay is no more.. That’s all that matters now.”

You don’t respond, his words aren’t too comforting, however true they are, so you choose to pepper his cheeks and nose and forehead with countless kisses you couldn’t give him before.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[yan-randomfandom]

Kid!Stanley Pines & Kid!GN!Reader

Poor Stanley,,, why is his backstory so sad? This is where MC saw Stan and decided to cheer him up.

🍦

The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting its light on the entirety of New Jersey. It peculiarly chose to shine on the Pines twins who were standing outside their lawn.

Ford frowned at Stan's crumpled sign that hung over his neck. Extra Stan, for three dollars or better offer, seriously?

"Are you really sure you'll be okay? I could help you sneak in after midnight, you know."

Stan tutted dismissively, waggling his index finger. "Tsk, tsk, poindexter. It's almost like ya want me to get in more trouble. Forget about me! I'll be fine, I swear."

"Ugh, I just wish Dad hadn’t done this," the former muttered, draping a blanket over the latter's shoulders. Ford looked into his brother's eyes with worry. "But... I'm sure he doesn't mean it. Things are just—"

Stan turned away, brushing him off. "Yeah, yeah. We're poor and stressed and all that. Now, scram! Unless you wanna end up outside like me!"

"...Goodnight, Stanley," Ford sighed, reluctantly leaving him alone. A few more seconds and Stan listened to their front door get locked.

It's quiet now. Nothing but the hushed noise of crickets and wind. Stan sneezed, pulling his blanket closer to his body. He sat on the rough sidewalk; it was better than the ant-infested grass behind him.

Stupid dad, he thought as he lightly kicked the ground. Stupid school.

Stan couldn't stop the tears from pricking his eyes. This is so annoying. Can sleep just hurry up and take him already?

...

A small, but noticeable creak.

The boy whirled his head toward the next house in alarm, locking eyes with you. You stared back with wide eyes, one of your hands supporting your window.

As soon as he noticed you, however, you promptly retreated into the comfort of your dark room.

Stan scoffed, crossing his arms. Great. Now he had the crazy neighbor's kid judging him too.

Whatever. It should be fine. He only had to endure this for one more day.

His eyes closed, his head tilting to his shoulder as he drifted into dreamworld.

...

It's hot.

Stanley fluttered his eyes awake, only to shut them close again when the sunrays horribly blinded him. What a terrible way to wake up...

He felt his dry tongue and cursed under his breath. While rubbing his crusty, sweaty face, he paused at the sound of bells harmoniously ringing.

There's an ice cream truck that was parked many steps away from him. Turning his head, he saw it had just one customer— you. He accidentally made eye contact, then quickly flashed you a smile before looking away and using his blanket to wipe the sweat from his face.

Ugh. This is awkward.

And the heat is unbearable. He needed shade.

...

Footsteps.

As Stan glanced at the ground beside him, he watched as an elongated shadow slowly grow taller by his sitting figure.

He turned and blinked at the sight of you offering ice cream. Your shadow comforted his overheated body even for a moment.

"Hi," you said. "This is for you."

Stan's gaze flickered between you and the ice cream. It was his favorite flavor. "Huh?"

Your hold on the treat slightly loosened. "Oh. Do you not like this? I think I've seen you eat this somet—"

"If you insist, thanks!" the boy snorted, swiping the ice cream away from you. He felt nothing but utter relief when his tongue tasted the cold.

Quietly, you sat down beside him, sparing a small gap between you two. Weird. He kind of expected you to leave right after that. One thing's for sure though—Stan couldn't handle sitting in awkward silence.

"Y'know, ice cream for breakfast is an interesting choice," he remarked, leaning toward you with a curious look. "I feel like it'd be better for dinner. And I'm pretty sure that it's still really early."

You fidgeted with your ice cream cone. "Um. Yeah. It's around eight."

"Eight?!" Stan squeaked, his eyes bulging. He’d normally still be asleep at this hour. It was completely off his sleep schedule. Aside from school— but it's Sunday! "Why are you here, then?!"

A smile curved your lips. "You slept outside. I just wanted to keep you company."

"We're not even friends," he pointed out.

"I want to be," you murmured, looking away from him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." You modestly took a bite of your cone. "I said I bought you."

"Huh?!"

"Your ice cream costed three dollars."

"It did?!"

...

...

...

Ford stared, astonished, at the sight of you and his twin sleeping next to each other. Your head rested on his shoulder, while Stan's head nestled on yours. Both of you breathed gently as you snoozed.

[sun-kissy]

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l. (part 3)

୨ৎ series masterlist

barista!remus x shy!reader

You smoothen the ruffles on your dress, twirling this way and that. One last glance at the mirror was spent convincing yourself you looked fine before you finally stepped out of your apartment.

The wind blew your hair back as you walked, the click-clack of your boots on the pavement mirroring the thumping of your heart. It was loud and fast, so much so that you wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bomb waiting to explode in you.

The barista, Remus — possibly the loveliest human being on earth, had invited you to a poetry reading at Beanie’s. He scribbled down his number onto your coffee cup too, which had to have meant something.

The nerves were starting to get the better of you, your heart climbing its way up your throat as you neared the café. 

This was the first time you so desperately wished that you hadn’t majored in literature, that you didn’t feel the impact of words as deeply as you did. A poetry reading would definitely trigger the part of you which didn’t shut up once uncorked, and you were praying you didn’t mess this whole thing up with your tendency to ramble.

Beanie’s was always crowded, but as you pushed the door open, the largeness of the mob was startlingly obvious. You couldn’t help but think it looked more like a fish market than a café, feeling skin against skin as you pushed past people.

There was a small stage set up at the corner, fairy lights strung above it. At the moment, there was a teenage girl timidly reciting something from a scrunched up piece of paper. You paid her no heed, craning your neck to find Remus.

Just then, an arm wrapped around your waist and you yelp, head swivelling to come face to face with Madison. “Hi, gorgeous.”

You sigh, feeling the tension leave your shoulders as she gives you a peck on the cheek. Of course, she came. Your best friend wouldn’t shut up for hours after you told her Remus had given you his number. “Hey.”

“Where is he?” she asks immediately, trying to follow your line of vision.

You shrug, eyes darting around till you spot someone’s gaze trained on you from across the café. It’s not Remus, by any means. But he’s undeniably attractive, long black curls and tattoos all over. Once you finally meet his eyes, he grins and wriggles his eyebrows. Who the fuck —

Just then, Remus sticks his head out from behind the stranger and beams at you, giving you a wave. You immediately shift your gaze to him, your heart feeling like it can’t decide whether it wants to be in your throat or chest.

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you wave back, trying to shove your way over to him with Madison on your heels. 

“And now, we’ve got Remus Lupin, with The Bell Jar by Sylvia… um… Plait? Plaque! Sylvia Plaque!” a waiter suddenly squeaks into the microphone before scurrying off stage. You pause in your movements, Remus giving you an almost apologetic smile before he climbs up.

“Hello,” he tests the microphone, his lips curving upwards as some members in the crowd cheer. You notice that the black-haired man from earlier seemed particularly enthusiastic, yelling “Go, Moony!” and sticking his fingers in his mouth to whistle.

You train your vision back on Remus as he starts to speak. “So, this isn’t exactly a poem,” he starts. “It’s an excerpt from one of my favourite books. And it really resonated with me, so I’d like to share it with you.”

You listen silently, anticipating whatever he was going to say next. It was alarming how much this mattered to you, that he had good choices in stories and poems and words. Because how were you to fall in love with a man who didn’t feel lingo as deafeningly as he felt the beat of his heart? He wouldn’t be able to understand you; you were sure, if he couldn’t listen to the silent pleas of scribbles on pages. You conversed like a book, like you were begging to be understood and silently guarded in the heart of one’s brain – and you only hoped that there was someone out there willing to peruse scripture after scripture till he memorised the language of your lips. Right now, you were really wishing that someone was the gorgeous man in front of you.

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story…”

Your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in his soliloquy. You don’t just hear his speech, but you listen. You listen to the ache that seeps into his voice, the silent rasp of air leaving his lips as he stresses on words he deems important, the sheer longing etched in every word. And you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his gaze on you, you could feel the string connecting his heart straight to yours.

“...they plopped to the ground beneath my feet,” he finishes. A slow, somewhat hesitant round of applause sounds in the café.

You open your eyes, unsurprised to find them misty. You bring your fingers to your cheeks and swipe the tears away. Madison was gripping one of your hands, squeezing it. The both of you were used to this, your onslaught of tears whenever you felt a little too hard. 

You watch as Remus steps off the stage, disappearing into the sea of people. Someone else climbs up, and you zone out, getting lost in your thoughts once more.

“Hey.” You blink, looking up to see Remus in front of you now, his pretty face scrunched up a bit in worry. “Hey, Y/n. You okay? Saw you getting a little emotional just now.”

Madison makes a small squeal of excitement, and Remus flashes her a small smile before turning back to you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

A teary chuckle bubbles out of you, “Sorry, yeah, I’m all good. It’s just – that was really something. It hurt in the best way. You have great taste, you know.”

He softens at your confession, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. “Thank you. And I get it, I couldn’t stop crying for almost an hour when I first read it.”

You let out a real laugh at the thought of that, and his smile breaks into a grin. He reaches forward, and you barely have a moment to comprehend it before he’s wiping away the tears on your cheeks. You really hope he can’t feel the heat emanating from your skin, or hear the giggles from beside you.

You make it a point to shoot Madison a dirty look as he pulls his hand away. “On another note,” he starts, and you can hear his slight cockiness at having you all flustered, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course –” you meant to say that you’d cleared your schedule to be able to make it, but the words die on your tongue as he whips a rose stalk out from behind his back and holds it out for you.

You stare up at him blankly, feeling your heartbeat growing more erratic by the second. “A small thank you for attending.”

“You give it to all the customers, then?”

“No. Just the prettiest one.”

You press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from gasping, and shakily reach out to take the flower from him. Twisting it in your fingers, you feel your heart start to turn to mush – he had cut off all the thorns on the stalk.

“Thank you.”

He grins, and it’s more endearing than the rose between your fingers. A sideway glance at your best friend tells you she’s at the edge of combusting into giggles and swoons.

“Hello, lovely ladies.”

Your gaze shifts to the right of Remus to see that man, the good-looking one who had been staring at you from afar. You arch an eyebrow, but Madison matches his energy. “Hey, handsome.”

His eyes linger on you. “You’re Y/n, I assume. Moony – Remus has told me all about you.” Your heart does a backflip and you glance at Remus, only to find him already smiling at you.

“But you,” he turns to your best friend, his thoughtful expression morphing into a grin. “Who might you be?”

“Madison.”

“Madison,” he drawls. “Sirius.”

You watch as Sirius compliments her dress, and she turns a red so deep it could rival how you had been minutes ago. And you smile, because you knew she’d been belittling herself over her appearance with the baby bump.

Remus silently tugs on your hand, steering you away from them. He glances over at the two of them again, grinning. “Sorry about Sirius. The asshole can be such a flirt.”

You huff out a laugh. “No, it’s quite alright. Madison’s quite the lovergirl herself, and god knows she needs this after her previous relationship.”

He nods understandingly, and a silence settles over the two of you. “I’m glad you came. You know, studying literature and stuff, I thought you’d like it.”

“I’m glad I came too. But I’m sorry you had to see me like –” you chuckle nervously, doing a jazz hands in front of your face, “like this, tears and all.”

His curls bounce as he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn’t help but think that all the creative evocations you’ve ever read fell short in comparison to the depth of his eyes. “That’s nothing to apologise for, sweet girl. You look just as lovely even when you’re crying.”

You pull your lip between your teeth to stop the smile from spreading across your face, feeling your heart do a somersault in your chest.

“Babe –” Madison comes over, out of breath. “Can we leave? I still haven’t gotten the groceries for tonight. And you’re helping me with dinner.”

You glance over her shoulder to see Sirius watching her with hearts in his eyes, and you let out a soft snicker when you see tints of Madison’s maroon lipstick on his cheek. “Okay.”

Madison starts pulling you towards the exit. You cast a glance at Remus, smiling and waving.

“Y/n!” Remus calls out, and you tug on Madison’s fingers to get her to stop.

“Yeah?”

“How else would you like me to see you?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He chuckles. “You said you didn’t want me to see you like this, in tears. How else – where else can I see you, sweetness?”

Your heart jolts at his obvious attempts at flirting, and how easily it was working.

“Tammy’s Bookstore,” you almost mumble, shyness flooding into your voice. “8pm to 12am shift.”

Remus seems to have gotten the answer he wanted. “Cool. I’ll see you there sometime.”

You turn around before he can see how pink you’ve turned, urging Madison out the shop.

“And sweetheart? Use the phone number.”

a/n: okay so i had a lot of fun with this part!! but i'd love to hear feedback, if you think maybe i'm sidetracking or you have any ideas for the next part <3 also the excerpt mentioned is about how we can't take every opportunity we wish we could in our short life, and it's from the bell jar by Sylvia Plath. agonisingly beautiful, hits you right in the feels!! here it is if you're interested :)

[kesujo]

You're the Light to my Shadow

As you’re heading out the café, you discover it isn’t empty.

“Hi, Seulgi.” Seulgi jumps, causing a smile to form on your face. “Finishing up some homework?”

“Hi Chanho! Yeah.”

“We’re closing and it’s getting dark, shall I walk you home?”

“Yes!” Before you can process how hastily her response is, Seulgi is already packing up her backpack. “Let me just—” She reaches for her coffee but ends up knocking it off the table instead. “Oh—” the cup clatters onto the ground, depositing its contents onto the bottom half of your pants. “—oh my god! I’m so, so, so sorry!”

You can’t help but smile at Seulgi, red-faced and profusely bowing. “Seulgi, it’s—”

“I ruined your—I-I’ll buy you new ones!”

“—fi-what? You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

Your smile turns into laughter at her guilt-ridden expression. “Yes, I’m sure. Should I get you a new cup? Pumpkin cappuccino with less sugar and ice, right?”

“What? No! I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“It’s alright, today’s batch is gonna get dumped anyway.”

Without waiting for an answer, you whisk away into the backroom, returning a minute later with a new cup of Seulgi’s drink and fresh pants.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“No problem. Ready?”

You can tell Seulgi wants to say something, but the space you give her to say it lasts five, ten minutes. Eventually, Seulgi pipes up, “Thanks for walking me home. And, for this,” Seulgi motions to her cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You can see words starting to form on her face, but the only sounds that fill your ears are rustling of the orange-yellow leaves of the trees planted along the sidewalk and the accompanying howling wind.

One question. Nothing more.

“Something on your mind?”

When Seulgi turns to you, you can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the cold or from her flustered state. “Um! … yeah … so, Chanho…”

The bashful way she diverts her gaze, the way her naturally-pouty lips part to allow her tongue to briefly loll out of her mouth, it takes everything in your power to resist the urge to call her ‘cute’.

“Did I make that cappuccino poorly?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

You smile at that. From the offended expression on Seulgi’s face, you may as well have called her kittens ugly. “So, Seulgi…”

At this point, her cheeks are even pinker than the hot-pink cropped T-Shirt she’s wearing. “D-Don’t tease me!”

“Sorry—”

What are you doing? After that question, nothing more. Right?

“But, u-um!” You turn back towards her. “Are—Are you and Sunmi … dating?”

Sunmi, your manager, who claimed she could handle closing by herself when you know she dreads closing shifts the most. “No.” Seeing the relief on Seulgi’s face fills your chest with dread.

This isn’t happening. Not with Seulgi.

“So, then, um … are you single?”

You almost can’t hear those last few words over the wind that threatens to whisk away her denim cropped jacket. Honestly, you wish you hadn’t.

You were being so careful, though: teetering on friendly but never flirtatious, treating her with respect but only befitting a regular customer. Where did you go wrong? And now, Seulgi: the one girl you can’t take your mind off, the one girl that threatens to upend your pact against the fairer sex you’ve upheld for the past year, the one girl you know you should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t escape from, with her magnetic, bright, bubbly personality and that luminescent smile that turned her eyes into upside-down crescents and your heart to mush.

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air after that. In the corner of your eyes, seeing her shivering causes the urge to give her your jacket to swell—but, now, more than ever, you need to resist.

“Th-Then, then, um, do-do you want to go, um, are you free—”

“Seulgi, I’m sorry.” Seeing her face turn from shock to on-the-verge-of-tears tugs at your heartstrings. But, you have to say this. “I’m … I’m really sorry. Someone like you shouldn’t involve yourself with someone like me.”

“Wha-What?”

You can hear the tears in her voice and steel your heart. “Sunmi. I’m not dating her now, but I used to. Back in high school. Do you want to know why we broke up?” I can do this. “She caught me flirting with her friends. Plural.” This is for the better. “You might’ve thought I would’ve stopped after getting caught the first time, maybe even the second time, but I didn’t. I just kept doing it.” The thought of never seeing her again fills you with dread, but not as much as the thought that she may end up like any of your exes. “What’s worse, Sunmi forgave me. She just, she kept forgiving me and forgiving me, and every time she would, what did I do with her trust, her love?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. “I quashed it.” Disdain, disgust, horror—what kind of expression must she be making at you? “Not just Sunmi, either. All those women whose hearts I toyed with, not stopping even after getting hospitalized a few times by the brothers and fathers of those exes, all to satiate my own ego. That’s the kind of person I am, Seulgi. Whatever you see on the surface is just masking this ugliness underneath. I’m just a disgraceful, lonely, insecure excuse of a man who doesn’t deserve—Seulgi?”

Hearing her sniffling is what causes you to inadvertently turn your head towards her and finally get an answer to the rhetorical question you posed to yourself earlier: her eyes shimmering and the area around them red, her pouting lips pulled into a deep frown, tears freely running down her cheeks, over the fingers that are failing to contain the flood pouring out her eyes … she’s looking at you with sympathy.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry…” You don’t respond. You’re unable to. What about that story could have possibly aroused such a reaction from her? “…it’s—it’s just, I can s-see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your voi-voice, a-and it’s just, it’s so sad to see that be-because you’ve clearly changed so much, bu-but, you look like you still can’t forgive yourself…”

The autumn chill picks up, and Seulgi shrinks in the face of it. You catch yourself midway into taking off your jacket, undoing the few steps closer your feet had taken you towards her. You remember complimenting this exact outfit on her before. Surely, Seulgi didn’t choose to wear it despite the cold weather because of that, right?

“I don’t understand.” Seulgi sniffles again and looks up at you. “How … is that your reaction to what I said?”

“W-Well, you’re being so vulnerable for me, how can I react an-any other way?”

As she finishes her sentence, another cold gust of wind assaults her, and seeing her curling up pushes you over the edge. Her health is more important than my concern over her reaction to this.

When your jacket comes over her shoulders, her eyes widen and she looks up at you again, with considerably more pink cheeks this time. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

As the two of you trod along the leaf-ridden sidewalk, Seulgi’s sniffling dies down. “Do you remember my first time at that café?” Caught by surprise at the sudden question, you take a second to shake your head in response. “The previous night, I didn’t fully plug my phone in, so I missed my alarm and overslept. While showering, I discovered I was on my period, and even worse, my coffee machine broke. Nothing was going right that morning: I had to go back to my apartment because I had forgotten my homework first, and then my phone second, so when I saw that café on my way to class, I decided I needed at least something to push me through that morning. I remember I was double-checking my backpack when my name was called; in a rush and a complete emotional mess, when I went back to my backpack with coffee in hand, I tripped on it spilled my coffee all over you.

“I remember I was ready to cry right then and there. But, I didn’t, because your response to being drenched with a medium-sized cup full of icy-cold coffee wasn’t to be angry, but to be empathetic. You very kindly reassured me that you were ok, checked to make sure I was fine and that my backpack didn’t get wet, and then even offered to remake my coffee free of charge. For you, it was probably just another Monday and I was just another customer. For me, that day, you saved me.”

Seulgi is glowing. It’s like the universe is shining a spotlight on her: the orange sunlight mixes with the orange of the autumn leaves to create a halo effect around her entire body. Seulgi is an angel, and you are basking in her divine presence.

“It’s true that I don’t know much else about you. For five months, I couldn’t find the confidence to ask for your name, and when I finally did, you smiled and pointed at your name tag and I wanted to die right then and there.” The corners of your lips twitch. “But let me tell you what I do know: you’re kind, you’re considerate, you’re friendly, you always try your best, you show empathy and warmth to even customers who are yelling at you for something that isn’t your fault, and you always try to smile. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Did that really happen? How do you have no memory of it?

“So, please, stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially those who have self-reflected and are striving to be better.”

Seulgi’s very being is blinding. You’ve met women like her before—you’ve ruined women like her before—but none nearly so vibrant. You, on the other hand, are a shadow. Opposites. Never meant to be together.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve someone like you—”

“Don’t say that!” You jump at how forceful her words are. In the short few months you’ve known Seulgi, this is easily the sharpest tone you’ve ever heard her use. “Don’t just give up on yourself so easily! I don’t know how bad of a person you were in the past, but why does that still matter?”

It hurts. The more reflection you’ve done, the worse you felt. You’ve long since accepted you don’t deserve forgiveness.

“Sunmi forgave you for what you did in the past, right?” You nod. Your eyes land on the shadow the setting sun casts upon the two of you. “But it sounds like you still don’t.” You nod again. But Seulgi makes it sound so easy. Could you…? “Then, let me help. Let me show you that you’re worthy of forgiveness. Or, it doesn’t have to be me, but let someone help you.”

“But … I mean, I didn’t even mean to…”

Seulgi catches the tail end of the unspoken sentence and softly smiles. Despite the redness around her eyes and slight puffiness on her face, her smile, illuminated by the setting sun in the background, stops your heart. “But that makes all the difference, right? That you didn’t mean to?”

A shadow can’t exist without light. Maybe you aren’t opposites after all. Maybe…

“Seulgi, I think you’re wrong.”

Seulgi blinks. “What?”

“It does have to be you.” The confusion on her face slowly transforms into understanding, then of wide-eyed excitement and exuberant joy. “You’re the only one—”

You’re cut off by Seulgi suddenly throwing herself onto you. And, for the first time in a year, you give into your desires, wrapping your arms around her slim frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!”

Last year, a particularly bad breakup kickstarted your journey of self-growth. Now, surrounded by the same beautiful array of autumn leaves, Seulgi has somehow reached into your chest and pried open the iron cage you’ve surrounded your heart with. “No, Seulgi. It’s me who needs to promise to make it up to you.”

[undercovercameron]

sunspent

summary: you're relaxed and calm in the obx summer heat, and rafe simply cannot have that.

notes: filthy filthy filthy! sorry not sorry bout it. also minor obx 3 spoilers; ie his parents are on that damn island and its just him in their big ole house. semi public sex kink and def a choking kink beware or be scared! i truly cannot write anything without that damn hand around reader's throat.. that's my b. enjoy! also thank you so much for all the love on my fics and the followers... so excited for all i will write in the future and so incredibly full of love from you guys <3

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 2542

The whole day had been perfect. 

You woke up around 9:30, brushed your teeth, and went downstairs to have some oatmeal. By 10:30 you were in a bikini and setting out a towel on the back deck. 

The sun was fairly hot, but the early warnings of a storm gave a cooler breeze. Your towel was in the perfect spot between the shade where you could get full sun coverage without moving too much. 

Gentle music was playing from your speaker, something that sounded like what your mom listened to in highschool, and a couple vodka seltzers laid unopened in a small cooler for you to enjoy later. You were also halfway through a mystery book, and between the pages of every chapter you let the time drift away from you. 

The most relaxing part of the start of your day? Rafe had left the house around 9 and had yet to return by the time you cracked open your seltzer at 1 o’clock. No ranting, no typical Rafe-isms— just sunshine and Paula Abdul. You wished he was able to do this with you. 

It was so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep a little more than halfway through your drink, head resting on your folded arms. 

“Y/N.” Something rigid and distinctly shoe-like nudges your arm. “Baby.”

You just groan and turn over onto your back, arms following to protect your eyes from the sunlight. 

“Hi,” you croak, squinting, and peer up at him. He looks like the Statue of Liberty in this light— if the statue of liberty wore light wash jeans and slutty little beer brand t-shirts. (So on brand for him.)

“How long have you been out here?” He asks, bending to pick up what’s left of your seltzer for one final swig. 

“Since like 10:45.” Your face breaks in a yawn and your arms fall to the deck as your eyes get used to the light. A smile creeps onto your face. “What’ve you been doing?” You sit up on your hands, scanning his body. He looks kinda sweaty. 

“Um,” he starts, scratching at his forehead with a sigh. “Buncha shit. Went into a couple places to close Ward’s accounts with them—oh, I saw your mom at Cold Stone by the way.”

“Why were you at Cold Stone?” You grin, crossing your legs and pushing at his calf with your foot. He makes an innocent face, hands on his hips. He looks to the trees, playfully exasperated.

“Sometimes I need a milkshake, Y/N. What kind of question is that?” You snort. “Anyway— I think we should go out for dinner. It’s getting to be—shit, it’s almost 4.”

You’re silent, save for some puny, whiny noise you make at the mention of going out. You struggle to get up, a little wobbly on your feet, but Rafe catches you and hauls you up with a hand on your waist. 

“What?” He brushes the wispy hairs out of your face. “You don’t want to go out?” He searches your face, blue eyes squinting down at you, and you just pout. In the most mature way a 20-something can when faced with leaving her very rich boyfriend’s very nice house who has asked her to stay with him graciously for the very near future while his parents are retired on some island in the middle of the ocean. 

You curl a finger around the collar of his t-shirt, playing with it while you formulate an answer. 

“Where would we go?” Is what you settle on, ever the people pleaser. 

“I don’t know…” Rafe thinks, gaze drifting from you as he chews at his lip. You wind your arms around his shoulders, hands splayed across his wingspan. You pet the skin of his neck with your thumb, warm all over. You’re content just looking at him forever. 

“What if I’m hungry now?” You ask, ever so innocently, and Rafe thinks you’re serious until he catches the look on your face. 

“That right?” He grins, hand sliding down your back. He grabs at your ass and you squeak. “How hungry? Wait until after dinner?” He’s just teasing you honestly; it’s almost a hobby to see how desperate you get for him. 

“Rafe.” You pinch his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

He just hums noncommittally, and dips to press a kiss to your neck. You shift up onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, and he hikes one of your legs up onto his hip. You can’t help the noise you make. 

“Rafe,” you breathe, grabbing at him. “We have to go inside.” He bows forward, dangling you towards the wood of the deck, and you just hold tighter onto his shoulders. 

“Why?” He murmurs, lost in your taste, and presses a kiss to your mouth that makes you shiver. “I don’t see why we have to.” He falls into a kneel, bringing you with him, and you suck in a surprised gasp. “Nobody’s around.”

“Somebody could be, baby,” you say, chancing a look around, and huff out a sigh when he lays you onto your back. This man. 

“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world before following you down. 

This bikini might be his favorite. He likes anything that will leave as little to the imagination as possible, but this one is his favorite shade of blue. Almost matches his eyes. 

Your warm skin feels like silk on him, and when you wriggle when he presses a hand to your inner thigh, his dick jumps. 

“Relax, Y/N,” he breathes. You roll your eyes. 

“How can I, Rafe? You’re so—aggravating.” You huff. He’s still wearing his shirt, too. You tug at the sleeves of it. 

“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head, lips pursed. You just nod, pulling again at the fabric of his shirt. “Why’re you so wet, then?” He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans and your eyes lock on it.  

“I’m not.” You look back up at him, self-assured to a fault, and try to will the dampness between your legs away. He just stares down at you, unimpressed. “I-I’m not.” Your thighs close. 

“That right?” He murmurs, and wrestles your legs open again with an arm. His fingertips brush the crotch of your bottoms and you jolt, breathing hard out your nose. He lifts your hips and pulls them clean off, tossing them to the side. 

He’s silent then, gaze locked between your legs, and he carefully guides your legs back until you can grab them by the back of your thighs and keep them out of his way. 

“Not wet, my ass,” he murmurs to himself. His thumb rubs at your clit, and your sigh of pleasure ends in an impatient whine. He spits. “This pussy—,” he starts, but can’t finish. 

He just bows and gets his mouth on you like he’s been thinking about since he left the house. Your head slams back against the deck almost immediately. 

His large palm flattens to the back of your thigh and pushes your leg even further. The muscle strains but you can handle it. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue pushes hard through your folds. You’re really fucking wet. You wonder briefly if it’s because of how hot it was today, then cast that out of your mind completely when you hear Rafe groan. Your body vibrates with it. 

His hands suddenly drag you by your hips, closer to his face, and he hums again. 

“Taste so fucking good,” he muses, spitting at you, and glances up at your face. You can barely keep your mouth closed like this. “Brat, lying to me.”

You whine, every second of him talking taking his mouth away from where it so desperately needs to be absolute torture, but settle when his thumb begins tracing circles into your clit. 

“Fuck me,” you breathe, back arching and leg muscles straining, and Rafe just laughs into your cunt. 

“I will,” he murmurs, and you would roll your eyes if you could— but he pushes two fingers into you. His thumb spurs back into motion as you sing, throat already sore. He knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers, and you let him know right there is where they need to be. 

“There you go.” He spits a third time, watching it mix with your slick. “Squeezing me so tight, honey,” he assures you, smoothing a hand down your thigh. If you could find words you’d agree. 

You manage a “yes, shit,” before you go mute and your eyes roll back into your head. You squeeze around him like a vice, your legs flooding with warmth, and he fingers you through your orgasm. He can’t pull himself away when you get like this— you’re so soft and warm and perfect that he genuinely wonders if he could ever fuck someone else again. He knows the answer is no. 

Your abdominal muscles spasm and jolt as you come down, neck straining to look at where his fingers give you a final stroke and find their way to his mouth. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you half-laugh and half-moan, head falling against the deck. You chest heaves as you catch your breath. “This is embarrassing.”

“What?” He says, voice hushed, and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Being on the deck or how quick I can make you cum?” He grins. 

This time you can and do roll your eyes. 

“Both,” you sigh, legs falling to their place around his hips. You curl up into a sitting position and pet his arm, coming back to reality. He smells like sunshine. “But you still haven’t fucked me yet.”

Your fingers trail down to his jeans, fingertips ghosting over his zipper. He hums in agreement, eyes following. You play with the button for a second, just wanting to tease, but pop it and unzip the fly. 

“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” You ask, reaching up his shirt to feel his hot skin. “That time on the beach,” you purr, voice hushed and eyes wild. 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip and sits back on his ass, taking you with him in his lap. Your knees bend and you sit comfortably on the seat that is only yours. “You thinking about my hand?”

“Mhm.” You lean and kiss at his cheek, trailing down to his jaw. “And something else.” You dig a hand down into his boxers and curl your fingers around his dick. 

He’s hot and almost slippery, so hard you’re sure it’s painful. Your wrist slides against the tip and his hand on your ass curls into a fist. 

You lean back, wanting to see his face, and watch as your touch washes over his body. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing, and you smile sweetly. 

It’s then that you shift into your knees, hand squeezing his dick, and sink down onto him.

His fingers fly up to your strained face and grasp your neck, immediately tight around your throat. Not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough for your pulse to quicken. 

Exactly what you’d imagined. 

“You like that?” He pants, breath fanning over your cheek when you turn slightly and grip his shoulder for stability. You just nod and circle your hips. 

His thumb on your chin guides your face back to his, wanting to see you fall apart, and you make a whiny noise. He feels where it starts and ends between his fingertips. 

You ride between the strain of his hand around your throat and the movement of his body, head tilted back and mouth wide. Your fingers grip his shoulder and bicep as you ride. 

It’s a difficult job, balancing the rhythm of your hips with the ache blooming from the muscles in your thighs, but you make it work. 

You hear the bashfully whiny groans he’s exhaling into your ear and you make it work. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper hoarsely as his hold tightens, chin tilting towards the sky. He grits his teeth and pushes his hips up into yours. 

You scramble to grab onto his forearm and hold back your shriek. 

The tightness of his fingers around your throat blur the lines of pleasure and pain, making it hard to catch a deep breath and ride him at the same time. 

“Fuck, harder,” he stutters, almost whispering, and you nod furiously. Your thighs meet his lap, over and over with a noise that makes you blush even more than you already are, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises or at the very least a red mark. 

He releases your throat and anchors himself with your hip and the small of your back, and when you finally gasp for air at the loss of his pressure on your neck he uses all his lower back strength to wedge himself deep into you. 

You know you’ll have bruises there. 

You push hard against his forearm as your back arches and the tension in your lower abdomen comes to a peak. Your toes curl where they are at his side.

Your vision comes in and out of focus as you cum again, blood white-hot in your veins. The climax is almost numbing. Addicting. 

At this point you have no idea the noises you’re making, probably all gibberish and definitely humiliating, but the rushing in your ears is too much. 

Rafe shudders and groans loudly into your ear, spending himself inside of you with a grunt, and you follow him as he falls back into the deck. You catch yourself with a palm on the sun scorched wood. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, heart pounding and chest heaving. Sweat coats his buzzed hair in a shiny sheen, and your whole body is so sticky you feel like you could peel the layer of perspiration off of your body. 

His hands still lazily hold your waist and they begin their ascent to your neck. He feels your pulse with the space between his thumb and forefinger, and his face splits into a grin at the feeling. 

“I definitely am going to need some food after this.” You push yourself back up into a sitting position and put your hands on your hips as you finally catch your breath. 

He looks so beautiful, half in the shade and half in the sun. Laid out beneath you. Still inside. Like some kind of god. 

The hot sun is in his eyes, and his body is numb with the tension spent in his muscles. Rafe half wonders if his dick is still fucking there. 

He barely feels when you crawl off of him and stumble into standing. He jerks up into a sitting position, that familiar ache in his back present, and grabs for your leg. He winces at the stretch. You should really be paying his chiropractor bill. 

“Where are you going?” He accuses, voice scratchy in his throat. 

“I need to shower, baby.” You bend to pick up your bikini bottoms. “We’re going to dinner, aren’t we?” You smile and turn back around to go inside, ass bare and a huge red mark in the shape of a large hand curved around the trunk of your throat. 

Yeah, drive-up it is.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 3

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you escape and face the consequences of your actions

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

<< previous ♡ next >>

It’s cold outside, you think, and you wish you had brought a little more thought to your choice in outfit because the shirt you’re wearing does little to protect your skin from the harsh wind. You regret not finding something a little thicker, something with longer sleeves perhaps when you had raided the wardrobe earlier. You were searching for comfort, not practicality, and now that decision was coming to bite you in the ass. 

Your body carries you through the wooded area surrounding the house, brambles scratching at your arms and drawing blood. You thank your body for pumping out adrenaline once again, protecting you from feeling too much pain. You’re not sure if you’ve ever run this hard or this fast in your entire life, the burning in your lungs evident that maybe you should have focused a bit more on staying in shape. Your shoes were definitely not made for running and you add it to the list of things to curse yourself for later. 

The pavement under your feet is different from the mushy grass surrounding the SKZ base and you find yourself trying not to connect your feet as hard to the ground to make up for it, lest the burning in your legs slow you down. Wait… pavement? You slow, coming to a stop to allow yourself a moment to view your surroundings and catch your breath. 

You notice you're in the city, albeit a deserted part of it that you don't recognize. Looking left and right, you decide to go in the direction of the faded city lights. At every car that passes you hold your breath and try to sink into the bushes, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible just in case Chan is in one of the vehicles. 

Salvation comes to you in the form of a gas station, seemingly devoid of any life. As you near close, you let out a sigh of relief when you see the blinking ‘open’ sign. One person mans the register, a man in his mid-30s that doesn’t seem to pay you any mind. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey but even so you can’t find it in you to be displeased. 

“Excuse me, sir,” you say, saccharine sweet. “Do you have a phone I could borrow?” The first thing you would like to do is give your sister a phone call, to let her know you’re on the way.

“You have to buy something first,” he replies instantly, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. 

You freeze. “But… I don't have any money.” It's the truth. God knows where your phone and wallet are; you haven’t had either since you started dating Jungwon and became dependent on him for everything. 

“That's not my problem,” he says. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, inhaling the aroma of hot dogs and nacho cheese. A slushie machine whirls behind you, reds and blues that could be impossibly easy to get lost in. 

“Listen sir, I've had a rough couple of days, and I don't know where I am, and I would really appreciate it if–” 

“No, you listen, brat,” he spits the word out, finally slamming his paper down and shooting you a nasty glare. “I don't give a damn who you are, either buy something or get the Hell out of my store before I call the cops.” 

You feel inclined to listen and book it out of here but you realistically don’t have many other options. You ignore the tears threatening to spill from your lash line. If he won’t let you use the phone, the least you could do is try to figure out where you are. 

“Um… okay, how far is Second Street from here?” 

“Least three miles.” 

“Three miles? Okay. What about downtown?” 

“Still at least an hour walk.” 

“Shit, okay. Have a nice night, sir,” you say, but you don’t mean it and he doesn't deserve it. You walk out of the store nonetheless, walking on the abandoned sidewalk in the direction of the city. Your body aches and you’re not sure how far you’ve walked when you hear voices in front of you. 

There’s three men. One of them sways back and forth as he walks, obviously inebriated. Fuck. You keep your eyes glued to the sidewalk and your pace quickens, hoping that a lack of engagement will increase your luck. Maybe, just maybe for once in your life you’ll get a free pass here. Of course that doesn’t happen. 

“Hey, pretty thang. What's a girl like you doing all by yourself this late at night?” The man nudges his friend, the noticeably drunker one. 

“I don't want any trouble,” you mumble, pushing forward. 

A large unwelcoming hand reaches out to grab your wrist and you shout out in pain. Broken. Despite the ice and bandage wrapped around your appendage, your wrist is still broken. 

“What wash that? I think she said she wantshta show ush a good time!” He slurs, and anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re starting to get really tired of the feeling. 

“Let me go, please!” Your other hand gripped the offender’s, placing it over his tight grasp. 

You're shoved to the ground, knees scraping against the sidewalk. Your breath is caught in your throat, and the scene is all too familiar. 

“Come on bunny, don't you want to play?” A hand grips around your throat, and you feel like prey. How they managed to find the parts of you that were weak and vulnerable, you had no clue. Men like this just had a knack for being awful like that. A hand snakes in your hair and grabs tight, and you’re reminded of just days ago being in this exact situation. 

“Look, she’s crying!” one of them coos. You let out a loud sob and think, God, I’m going to die here. How you always have a knack for making wrong decisions, you’ll never know. 

“Let her go.” Your eyes shoot open when you hear a familiar deep voice. Instead of being filled with fear at finally being caught, you can’t help but to feel relieved. 

“Felix!” you cry out. You try to crane your head to look at him but the man’s grip on your hair is too tight. 

“Let her go? Why? We were having a good time!” One of them laughs and you feel his grip on you tighten. You whimper in pain. “Do you wanna join in?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything, but you hear a soft, mechanical clicking sound. It’s too silent and you’re afraid that you know the reason why. Your eyes stay closed but you’re free, suddenly. As you begin to fall you brace to hit the concrete but you’re surprised when you don’t. A warm and steady arm wraps around your middle and you relax into Felix as the men scamper away. 

“He's fucking crazy, man. The bitch isn't worth it.” And like that, they are gone. You allow yourself to glance down at Felix and the gun he is holding, but you aren't intimidated anymore. He has gotten rid of the real threat. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks, not looking at you. You swallow, hating to be the target of his disappointment. The gun is put away and forgotten about and you slump out his grasp and onto the concrete. You shake your head at him, trying to indicate that you are okay, you’re not seriously hurt, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. Instead he ushers you into a car that you hadn’t even noticed had appeared, obviously too caught up in the situation at hand. He opens the door for you and you climb in, noticing that he sits in the passenger seat, not the driver’s. You furrow your brow until you recognize Hyunjin in the driver’s seat, tapping furiously on the wheel. On your left you recognize the broad frame as Changbin, who seems to be more distressed than anyone else in the car. You hope for silence, but once again, you can never be so lucky. 

“How do you always manage to get yourself into such trouble?” Hyunjin laughs. He irritates you to no end, always so sure of himself and full of it. “First Jungwon, us, and now these thugs? Do you have a knack for finding trouble or does trouble find you?” You notice Felix tense, and you decide staying in silence is probably better to not irritate the men further. You look out the window instead as the car speeds off. 

Hyunjin continues, “Normally Chan would want us to blindfold you if we were taking you back to our place, but he told us not to bother this time. He seems incessant that there’s no reason to.” Does he ever shut up? “Expect for him to be pissed. He knew you were going to leave, though.” 

Now that was enough to break your silence. 

“He knew?” you ask, incredulous. 

“Of course. It was a test, after all. To see where your loyalties lie, if he threatens you and tells you not to escape, you’re much more likely to leave right after because you think you can get away with it.” Shit. Now you feel dumb. But instead of letting on, you scoff and turn your head back to the window, finding the view much more interesting. You’re shivering still from the cold despite the heat pumping through the air vents. Felix wordlessly takes off his coat and hands it to you, and while you want to be proud and reject the offer you can’t help but want for this chill in your bones to go away. His jacket is warm and you can smell the trace of his cologne, floral, like jasmine yet earthy.  

You couldn’t have been in the car for more than ten minutes, and you curse yourself, realizing that you really didn’t get as far as you thought. 

Then, you approach a long driveway, adorned with a large iron gate that would intimidate anyone that made it to this part of the city, encased in grime and rust that’s indicative of its age. The car drives down the winding roads with familiarity which puts you at ease and keeps you from feeling nauseous, which you feel grateful for. When you arrive at the front of the house, you are finally given the opportunity to take a look at where you have been staying, as previous circumstances hadn’t allowed you to do so. 

The exterior of the house is a little dreary, the age of the cracked brick and marble noticeable. Even in the dark you could tell everything else is well-taken care of, well-trimmed shrubbery and flower beds surprising you. You don’t get as much time to look around as you would like, though you do notice the sheer size of the house as you follow the men up the gravel pathway. Large front doors open up and you’re guided inside. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You and Felix walk in silence to your room. You’re almost ashamed to meet his eye. 

“How did you know where to find me?” you finally ask. 

“I came to bring you this,” he says, gesturing to what he had been holding. A hard brace for your wrist. “When I came to your room and you weren’t there, I panicked. You couldn’t have gotten far, but we jumped in the car right away.” 

“But… What about what Hyunjin said?” You ask. Meanwhile he starts to unwrap the bandage on your wrist, revealing the very swollen and purple affected area. You wince slightly. 

“About it being a test? I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re probably in deep shit with Chris.” He says. You notice that he uses a nickname when referring to the man but you don’t say anything. He pulls out a first aid kit and starts to sanitize the surface of your skin and it stings more than you’d like to admit. Still, he does so delicately, making sure his fingers don’t press onto your injury too harshly. “I didn’t think you would leave,” he admits. “It was really stupid, you do realize that, right? I was just… really hoping you would be smarter than that.” 

You scoff. “Stupid, got it. I’m sorry that I didn’t want to stay trapped with the mafia, but I saw my opportunity. I have a life out there I want to get back to! I can’t stay here for the rest of my life.” 

“That may be true, but you won’t have a life to get back to if you’re killed the moment you leave,” he points out. “I’m not trying to be malicious, but you have a huge target on your back. Even if it’s not Jungwon who comes for you, you’re affiliated with ENHA. People who are not as kind as we are will see you as a way to get to him and they’ll kill you in cold blood.” He delicately places the new brace onto your wrist, strapping it shut tight. You try not to think about how his touch lingers on your skin, that you can still feel where he touched you and how it makes your face heat up. Instead you try to flex your wrist to test the brace, finding that it provides enough support for you not to move it too intensely. Felix hums in approval. 

“Come with me,” he says. He takes you to the bathroom and gestures for you to sit on the toilet lid. You do, looking up at him inquisitively. You see that he has brought the first aid kit with him and he’s keen on tending to your other injuries. 

“I just don’t understand,” you say, breaking the silence. He takes an antiseptic wipe and starts to wipe away scratches on your head. “Just… Why do you care if I live or die?” 

“That’s a tough one,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking. “I guess you can say I don’t like Yang Jungwon. Our feud with them has lasted for several years and he’s just a nuisance. He kills people in cold blood and is remorseless. I’m sure you’ve seen it first hand just how manipulative he can be, and we really just want to make sure that he doesn’t do anything to undermine us. That being said, you’re a benefit to SKZ. I know you might not see it yet, but you might be the ticket we need to finally one-up them. If you’re dead then we’re back to an even playing field.” 

“What about the infiltration? Don’t you have plans with Lee Know?” you ask. 

“Oh, Minho? He’s a very skilled person, he excels at this kind of thing. We’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while and we finally have an opportunity to do so. I hear that they’re planning to start up an underground drug-ring, something that would put us both in the public eye more than we want. Minho is going to try to find out what he can about it and then we can proceed.” 

Felix bends down, kneeling before you. Your breath hitches before you can think about it; it’s not fitting for someone who looks so majestic to be below you, you think. 

He starts to clean the scrapes on your knees. They’re bloody and raw from your fall and you’re only now starting to feel the aftereffects from it. You’re grateful that he’s taking the time to tend to your injuries, scanning your entire body from head to toe until he’s content. “You’re too good for all of this,” he finally says. “Someone like you should have never gotten involved in our lifestyle. You have so much potential, I can just see it. How did you even get stuck in this life?” The question is so intimate that it takes you a moment to process that he asked it. 

“I didn’t know who he was when I started dating him,” you admit. “Like you said, he’s manipulative. He’s mastered the art of deception. When I met him, he was charming and sweet, you know? It feels dumb to say, but by the time he admitted to me he was part of the mafia, I was head over heels in love with him. By the time I realized that the Jungwon I knew was just a facade it was too late, he caused me to completely rely on him for everything. I lost everything, Felix.” He nods in understanding, looking up at you before he stiffens. 

“Your neck… Did he do that, too?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his voice. You realize that the makeup you applied so diligently before must have completely rubbed off by now. You sigh. 

“Yeah. The night Chan found me, Jungwon and I got into a fight. It was my fault, but he threatened me, and it got physical, and…” 

“I don’t know what happened, but I severely doubt it could have been your fault,” he says. You decide not to divulge the details of your argumentThis is the first time you have admitted the situation out loud, and you feel very vulnerable. For some reason, you really want to tell Felix, despite the tears threatening to spill from your lashes. 

“He knocked me unconscious outside of the club, and when I woke up, I was here.” He finishes bandaging up your injuries and he stands, stretching his back and popping his joints. There’s blood on his white dress shirt. Your blood, though you don’t remember how it got there. 

“When you left tonight, where were you planning to go? You weren’t going–” 

“Not back to him, God no. Um… I have a sister, I was just trying to get in touch.” He seems content with your answer. You wonder if he’s just going to relay all of that information back to Chan. You feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, though, so you can’t really bring yourself to care. 

“I don’t know how long you’re going to be here. But for now, this is the safest place for you. So, try not to do anything else that’s stupid.” He turns to the door to leave, but you find yourself calling out. 

“Felix?” He halts and his eyes meet yours as you call his name. “Thank you.” There’s a lot of meaning to convey with just two words, but you hope you get your point across; thank you, for saving my life, for talking with me, for treating my wounds. He seems to understand. He graces you with a small smile before leaving 

You take a minute to breathe and look at yourself in the mirror. You are definitely not the same person you were two days ago. You smile at the reflection of yourself that has been beaten and bruised, and you hardly recognize her. You open the door to retreat to your bedroom for the night, but are shocked by what you see. 

For the second time in one night, Bang Christopher Chan sits on your bed, waiting expectantly. 

“We need to talk,” he says. 

He looks pissed. His glare sends shivers straight up your spine, and it takes everything for you to not break down and cry on the spot. It makes you feel guilty for everything that happened tonight, but you have to shake that thought. You were justified, you need to stand strong. You sit on the bed next to him without him gesturing for you to do so, as it feels like what he wants. You aren’t stupid enough to disobey him again. 

You look him in the eye. 

“I’d like to think I’m a kind person,” he says. “I don’t ask much of you–”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. 

“Speak when spoken to. I won’t tell you again.” He clears his throat. “I don’t ask much of you. In fact, I gave you just two, simple, commands that you couldn’t be bothered to follow. Do not contact Yang Jungwon, and do not leave. What did you do?” He looks at you but you stay silent. “Answer.” 

“I left.” 

“That’s right. You must be pretty stupid, Y/N. Stupid enough to somehow end up here, and even more stupid to disobey me. I knew you were going to try to push your luck,” he says. “Explain yourself.” 

“I…” you gulp. You decide honesty is the best way to go about this. “I got scared. I know you told me not to leave and I didn’t listen, and I truly apologize but I remembered how trapped I felt when I was with Jungwon, and, well… the prospect of staying here for the rest of my life really really scared me.  I wanted to see my sister and tell her I’m alright. My phone is gone, and she probably thinks I’m dead. I envisioned a world where I  never got to see her again and make things right, and I thought this would be my only chance.” 

He sits in silence for a moment, contemplating. “This will be the last time I extend such kindness to you,” he says slowly. “From here on, I want your complete loyalty to me and the rest of SKZ.I will ensure your safety from ENHA and any potential threat. For now, that’s all you need. If you try to undermine me one more time, I will make sure you never see your sister again. Take that any way you want.” He stands. 

“Hyunjin said that this was a test,” you say cautiously. “Are you going to punish me?” 

“I thought I made myself very clear that there would be consequences to your actions,” he says. “I will go lightly on you, just this time. I’m being very nice, just so you are aware: I am not usually known by others as a kind person.” He sighs. “Pick a number between one and ten.” 

“Um… five?” you say, trying to play it safe and pick a number that’s not too high and not too low. His hands slide down to his waistband, unbuckling his belt and taking it out of the loops. 

“Lift your shirt up and turn around.” 

You do, with shaky hands, turn around and lift your shirt up so just your back is revealed to Chan. You don’t protest, worrying that that could somehow make things worse. 

You steady your breath and brace for impact. 

Thwack. 

One time, Chan’s leather belt comes down and hits the skin of your back hard. It’s obvious he has no intention of holding back and it stings; you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress your cries. 

Thwack. 

The second time, just as hard. 

Five times Chan hits you hard with your belt and you can’t hold back your tears any longer, though you do stay strong in the decision to not let him see them. After the fifth hit, you stand and pull down your shirt. 

“Rest up,” he tells you. “Tomorrow you’ll meet everyone else.” 

It’s stupid of you to think about, but you practically disregarded the fact that there are other members you have not met yet. You’re not entirely looking forward to it, though you don’t say so.  

“Does everyone know?” you ask him just as he’s about to leave. “Does everyone know that I’m associated with Jungwon?” 

“Everyone knows,” he confirms. “I trust my group implicitly. I felt no need to hide it from them, though at this point I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of.” You nod your head at the information, lost in thought. 

Then Chan leaves and you’re finally alone. When you lie down in bed you finally take note of how your body feels after all this time. Every muscle aches and you can’t lay down on your back and once again you ignore the incessant throbbing in your skull. When you lay down in the bed to sleep, it’s on the comfiest, most luxurious mattress that you’ve ever laid on. You stare at the wall until you drift off with a dreamless yet peaceful sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ;

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY VII. — ROLEPLAY

cw: Fluff, Romantic Dirty Talk, Aged-Up / Pro-Hero Time-Skip, Implied Cunnilingus, Attempt at Humor, Sexual Roleplay, Fem! Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: Another fic that's tailored to one of my friends. I think Tenya's really romantic and has the potential to be one of the swaggest lovers in the whole world. Anyhow, enjoy!

word count: Approximately 1.5k words.

Today was not your motherfuckin’ day. 

Work was miserable. Villains running amok—three bank robberies, one hostage situation, and a group of loser thugs harassed a poor old lady by attempting to intimidate her into giving them her purse by doing a sad attempt of “the worm.” So many other things, too, it didn’t just stop at your duties. You don’t even want to remember the horrors of the exploding fax machine at your agency. Who even uses fax machines anymore? 

Whatever. All that mattered now was that you were home, slipping off your shoes by the door and stretching your back until it popped loudly. A satisfied grin started to spread across your lips, only growing wider whenever you stepped into your genuine home and started walking towards the living room. You’re positive your husband’s already here—he’s sent you updates throughout the day, all of them regarding dinner plans or simple texts stating how he cherishes you. It’s endearing, and you’re almost itching at the fingertips to wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze sweet nothings into that warm brain of his. That grin on your face was reaching your ears, so you sped up and basically slid yourself into the living room by the skin of your socks. 

Tenya was sitting on the couch, a small fire cooking in the fireplace. The room felt so cozy, like a thick sweat enveloping your body, and you immediately sighed. Oh, yeah, you’re so glad to be home. He looks so cute sitting there, an open book in his hands while he reads. You wonder what he could be reading—but, honestly, you’re currently more curious about if he could wrap those hands around your waist and draw you in for a passionate kiss to help soothe the miserable events of the day away. 

A chuckle bubbles in the back of your throat. 

“Ohh, Tenten. How’s my lovely darling boy?” 

You feel Tenya jolt a little underneath your touch, underneath the hands that slither over the round of his shoulders from behind the couch. He clears his throat, closing the book before he tilts his head far enough to meet your gaze. Those blazing red eyes make your breath hitch, but then that beautiful smile breathes wind back into your lungs. 

“Ah, hello, dearest. I didn’t realize you were home. With the messages you sent me, I figured you’d be caught up for another few hours.” 

He leans forward to place the book atop the coffee table directly in front of him, dragging your fingers along until your elbows rest against the couch. 

“Nah, one of my bros helped me out by fighting the fax machine. Turns out there was some sort of Quirk interfering? A misfire? A, um, fax machine ghost? I can’t quite remember the reason, but I didn’t have to deal with it. So I’m home now.” 

Tenya pauses, more than likely taken aback, but then hums with a small nod of his head. 

“I see! How curious. Well, regardless, it’s great to have you back here.” 

You hum as well, removing your hands from Tenya—but making sure that you slide against his smooth shirt so very slowly—and round the couch until you’re standing in front of him. 

“Back home with my dashing husband? How lucky~” 

The fire crackles whenever you let your body sink down onto the couch, a coy smile batting its lashes against your cheeks while Tenya watches you with an intrigued but earnest expression. You yawn, patting your hand against your mouth before you sigh out wistfully. 

“What a shame, though. I wish that I had someone to tend to me. You know, someone who could just help me get outta these clothes and feel good.”

It’s like lightning flashed before Tenya’s eyes because he immediately blinks, stiffens, straightens his back, and then slowly returns. He seems to flush, a shadow that falls across the bridge of his nose before he cutely glances away with a bashful tilt of his mouth. One of his hands stretches forward, finding a home atop the center of your thigh. His digits curl before they squeeze, which elicits a soft little sigh from you. 

“Yes, I think you deserve someone to tend to you. Why don’t you let me fill that position—if you think I’m worthy of it?” 

There’s a hint of nervousness coating the edges of Tenya’s question just like always, so you drop a hand to his hand and give it a little pinch. His head swivels around to face yours again. 

“Of course. How could I ever live without my dutiful butler to pamper me?” 

More and more, those red gems boring into your soul begin to kindle and spark, filling with oxygen and growing louder. Tenya moves forward, pulling you deeper into the rings of his fire, and you let yourself fall. Passion crosses his face, determined, before he begins to saddle down to his knees on the floor. 

“What kind of butler would I be if I didn’t perform to my fullest abilities for my Mistress?” 

A shiver traces down your spine, something that takes your reins and makes your legs part. Tenya glances between your knees, understanding etching into his features while he attempts to slot himself through. His hands are running up and down your legs, finding ways to let those flimsy columns find homes in his fingers before they start to breach towards the band of your bottoms. Tenya’s looking at you carefully, seemingly reading your expression to make sure he’s not overstepping any boundaries. He always does this, so tender, and you chuckle before you comb one of your hands through those midnight blue locks. 

“You never fail to impress me, dear butler. You’re always so hard at work. Surely you must be hungry?”

Tenya’s fingers finally break through the band, hooking underneath the fabric before he oh-so slowly begins to peel them down your frame. You lift your midriff a little so it’s easier for Tenya, and he nods at you. 

“Thank you. Of course, Mistress. I can’t risk slipping up on my duties. I also can’t possibly ask for you to offer me something to eat.” 

You shake your head, lowering your body again but crooking your knees so that Tenya could fully slide your bottoms off of your ankles. Those smoldering expressions crossing his face make him look so intimidating, but the fireplace brings you into reality, flickering and casting shadows throughout the room that make Tenya seem so ethereally beautiful. A thunder in your heart makes you painfully aware of the heat that’s dripping down into your groin like a broken faucet, leaking and puddling all over the couch until you can feel it in your toes. He’s so good to you, and you can feel the love in your heart clench and flip like turning tides. You want him, need him. The words leave your mouth. 

“Oh, dear butler, take what I have to offer. Enjoy yourself, lose yourself. Feast, please, pleaseee?” 

Each word becomes less cohesive, crossing the territory of being mindless pleas and begging that make you feel like a lost little kitten pawing at their mother’s swollen tummy. Tenya seems to go insane. Conflagrations, flames that could destroy the universe, consume him and he groans before he obeys. 

“As you wish, my Mistress.” 

The last syllable is nothing but a low growl, something feral and wild, and you have to toss your head back into the couch and close your eyes at the drugs that shoot through your veins. Psychedelic, addictive, so many words that can’t even begin to describe the hallucinations Tenya’s sex fills your head. Tenya just uses those large hands of his, those mitts that could engulf your whole body if you let them, to rest against the inner dips of your thighs and spread them apart. He starts to scoot closer, shoving himself in as much as he can before his knees bump the couch and he grunts. You whimper. 

“Butler, yes, I need you so bad. I want you, I want you, I love you.”

Tenya’s head finds its destiny between the swell of your thighs, his hot and misty breath fanning across the slick and juice that trickles between the slit of your cunt. He makes another sound, too low to identify, but it makes your head spin whenever he whispers out in that husky voice, 

“Mistress, I will make you feel good. I will show you how much I worship you.” 

Nothing spills from your mouth but a frothy moan before Tenya’s head is gone, buried in your cunt, that flat tongue of his finding its new owner atop your throbbing and erect clit. 

“I am forever at your service, Mistress, my love.” 

And Tenya’s lost to sea. 

[dark-frosted-heart]

Go Ahead and Dote on Me - Clavis card story

Story's in His POV

nsfw at the end

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

[Just a note: people are calling Emma “usagi-chan”]

Spring finally arrived in Rhodolite after the egg hunting contest.

People happily took in the warm winds, admired the flowers that began to bloom following winter, and—

Sweets store owner: Oh, it’s the little rabbit. Are you out with Prince Clavis today?

Emma: Yes. I thought I’d keep an eye on him in case something bad happened.

As we walked through the market together, people called out to Emma everywhere.

It seemed like this would be a springtime tradition this year.

Sweets store owner: You got a lot on your hands, little rabbit. Come, let me give you some baked treats.

Emma: Thank you! By the way, I’ve been hearing “little rabbit” a lot…

Sweets store owner: Yeah, everyone’s been using it. Emma, weren’t you the rabbit in the egg hunt the other day? I think it’s popular because it’s cute. Look, that shopkeep over there’s calling out to you.

Flower store owner: Just in time, little rabbit. I’m currently making a bouquet modeled after you.

Emma: Wow, it’s shaped like a rabbit!

Flower store owner: Yeah. Recently, Rhodolite’s been experiencing an unprecedented rabbit bloom. I guess it’s all thanks you you, little rabbit. Thanks.

Emma: You’re…welcome…?

(Indeed a good trend)

Any direction you look, all of the new spring products displayed in the shops were rabbit-themed.

As a rabbit lover, I couldn’t have been more proud.

Emma: Clavis…do you have something to do with this?

After looking around the market, Emma turned toward me in suspicion.

Clavis: Haha, I don’t have the power to manipulate market trends. I suppose everyone’s become aware of the charm of rabbits. This is how Rhodolite should be.

Emma: Is that a good thing to be happy about…?

Clavis: Naturally. It makes me feel good to see how much everyone likes you. Why not do what the people want and wear those rabbit ears again?

Emma: I don’t want to. It’s embarrassing.

Clavis: I want to see it again. Rather, I always want to see it.

Emma: I’ll consider it when it’s just us alone…

(That’s Emma)

(At any rate, rabbit lovers will spread across the continent)

Emma: Ah…I remembered that Leon won the egg hunting contest.

Clavis: That’s right. He was so strong he almost got banned.

Emma: …Anyway, that means the all-powerful cup that grants any wish is currently in Leon’s hands, right? What exactly does Leon plan to do with that cup?

Clavis: Nothing at all. Since I have the cup on hand right now.

Emma: Huh

Clavis: He wasn’t interested in the prize at all. In exchange, I promised to buy him a drink the next time we went out.

(From the start, I was the one who invited Leon and asked him to win)

(If by chance the hunt failed, then the all-powerful cup would’ve been the target)

(Considering the risks, it couldn’t simply be given to the public)

(But we don’t have to worry about that anymore now)

To make up for a rigged contest, all participants were given a discount coupon that could be used in the market and commemorative Easter eggs.

Hopefully that’ll be enough for forgiveness.

Emma: That all-powerful cup…is in your hands…

Clavis: Hm? What’s with that face?

Emma: Because you’re definitely going to use it for something bad.

Clavis: Such as?

Emma: …

Emma’s face turned red.

It sounded like “bad things” involved doing some wicked deeds to Emma.

She was too cute to handle and I hugged her by the waist.

Clavis: Can you tell me?

Emma: No, I’m trusting your ability as a gentleman.

Clavis: I see, I see. I’ll make a wish on the all-powerful cup when we return home.

Emma: Oh, that’s right! I have a wish that I want the all-powerful cup to grant!

Clavis: You want me to use it to grant your wish and not my wicked one?

I tried not to laugh as Emma vigorously nodded her head.

Clavis: I have no choice but to do as my lovely fiancee asks. What do you wish for?

Emma: Um, well… …

Clavis: If you don’t have one, then I—

Emma: Rabbit!

Clavis: …Rabbit?

Emma: Yes. I know you’re a self-proclaimed rabbit lover, but I can’t be the only rabbit. Wearing the rabbit ears was embarrassing. So I want to see you as a rabbit!

Emma shouted at the top of her lungs, like she had forgotten we were out in public.

Man in market: King Clavis as a rabbit?!

Woman in market: …A rabbit? Is that okay? No restrictions?

(I see…Now I have to live up to expectations)

Clavis: Alright. After all, it’s my lovely fiancee’s wish. Even with the all-powerful cup, I have to make it happen.

Emma: …I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment when I said that— 

When Emma tried to backtrack, I kissed Emma on the lips with a smile to stop her from continuing.

Clavis: Look forward to it, Emma.

In order to fulfill my lovely fiancee’s wish, I had to act quickly.

There wasn’t time to wish on the all-powerful cup and preparations had to be made as soon as possible—

Clavis: Now then my lovely fiancee, here comes Mr. Rabbit.

Emma: Are you actually a rabbit though?!

The next morning, I became a bunny boy and slipped into Emma’s room.

Emma, who was already awake and relaxing in bed, dropped her book in shock.

(However…)

(You’re being surprisingly shy)

I even altered the rabbit outfit, adding a tail to match Emma’s.

Originally I wanted to visit at night with the outfit I prepared overnight, but there’s entertainment in not having made it until morning.

Emma: I didn’t think about it when you disappeared after we came back yesterday, but…it suits you better than I thought it would.

Clavis: Right, right? A handsome man will look good in anything.

Emma: You might be better at being a rabbit than I am.

Clavis: I disagree. I could never be as adorable as you.

Emma: You’re pretty adorable now though?

Clavis: Oh?

(Apparently in Emma’s eyes, I’m a cute rabbit)

(That won’t do)

Clavis: I’m a rabbit today. You can hold me, pet me, love me. Anything you want, okay…?

Emma: Really?

Clavis: Yes, I’m a man of my word. What do you want from me? I’m open to any kinks or perversions.

When I got on the bed and crouched like a rabbit, Emma cleared her throat in embarrassment.

Emma: Th-then…

She hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on top of my head.

She patted my hair gently as if handling a rabbit, tickling me.

Emma: Soft and fluffy. Clavis, your hair’s really nice to touch.

Clavis: …

(I wanted to tease you, but I didn’t expect this kind of play)

(It’s fine when I do it, but when on the receiving end, it’s…difficult)

As I quietly accepted her hand, a small chuckle escaped Emma’s lips.

Emma: Are you feeling a little shy?

Clavis: Haha, how could I?

Emma: But you’re not being as talkative as usual.

Clavis: I was just distracted by how nice your hand feels.

Emma: If you say so.

(...)

As she became more accustomed to it, Emma’s hands got bolder.

I’ve never felt so self-conscious.

(I thought I’d be able to take anything Emma did, but…)

(I’m not cut out for this)

Clavis: Emma, you know this rabbit can do dirtier things, right?

Emma: No, please continue being a cute rabbit.

Clavis: Haha, don’t feel like you have to hold back. For instance— 

I push Emma down and boldly hike up the skirt of her nightgown.

When I pushed her legs apart and placed myself between them, Emma started to look flustered.

Emma: What are you doing there?!

Clavis: I’m a rabbit. I’ll go anywhere I want.

I pressed my lips against her thigh under the nightgown and continued up.

Emma: Ah…Don’t…

She tried to stop me with a hand, but faltered when my lips reached her underwear.

Clavis: I’m a cute rabbit, aren’t I? I can be more affectionate if you want?

I shifted her underwear to the side and licked.

The sweet sounds she made were like honey and I almost felt like a spring rabbit in heat.

Emma: Cute rabbits…don’t…Nghaa…

Clavis: Is that so? There’s all sorts of rabbits.

I sucked at her wet spot before appearing out from under her nightgown when her hips bucked up.

When Emma scowled at me in embarrassment with tears in her eyes, I wanted to focus on teasing her more.

(No matter what, you’re cuter than I am)

I removed my vest, undid my tie, and placed the rabbit ears I was wearing on Emma’s head.

Clavis: As expected, it suits you better.

Emma: Really…?

Though she was embarrassed, she didn’t remove the rabbit ears.

She fixed the ears and the sight of her being all shy burned all sense of reason away.

Emma: Nn…Clavis, don’t touch…Aahh

Clavis: Emma…stay as my rabbit for the rest of your life.

(After all, I’m a man that would rather be loved)