#quick sketch before I clocked in
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pepemoon · 7 months ago
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head empty just tommy taking tubbos body measurement for lmanberg uniform
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rhyrhy · 24 days ago
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Thinking about loser! Barista Abby! And the girl who works in the bookstore across the street…
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[Contains]: cutesy headcannons!
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Barista Abby! Who works Sunday to Wednesday, carefully balancing the rest of her week.
Sure, she gets hit on—at the gym, sometimes even at work. And while it’s flattering, she always turns them down. Why? Because lately, she’s found herself watching the clock, waiting for 10 a.m.
A different cozy outfit every time, a tote bag always slung over your shoulder, a pencil tucked behind your ear. Such a sweet sight. Yeah. She was a goner.
Barista Abby! Who told her coworker (and dearest friend) that she’d say something… eventually. But she never quite works up the nerve. She hates when it rains—raindrops littering the windows, ruining her perfect view of you across the street.
Barista Abby! Who wanted to duck behind the counter the first time you walked in. Crushes weren’t something she developed often, but you? The pretty girl balancing more books than you could carry, nudging the door open with your foot. The girl who always checked on the flowers outside the store, The girl who sat in her car for a few moments before heading home, deep in thought.
Barista Abby! Whose face burned when you made a flirty comment in passing, suddenly hyper-aware of herself in ways she never had been before.
“Are you on the menu?” You leaned in across the counter, eyes slowly scanning over her.
“Uh, no, but—but I could be? Like, theoretically?” she stammered.
Barista Abby! Who was a bookworm herself but couldn’t find the nerve to bring it up—until the day she saw you holding City of Thieves by David Benioff, a book she’d read a million times.
“Wait—you’re reading that? Like, actually reading it? Not just holding it for aesthetic purposes?” she blurted, pointing at the book tucked in the crook of your arm.
“You have to tell me what you think. Like, every thought. Immediately.”
And when you said you liked it? She practically beamed with excitement. “Okay, if you liked that one—please, please read The Nightingale and All the Light We Cannot See. Thank me later.”
Barista Abby! Who, over time, grew more comfortable flirting back. Who lived for the giggles she earned, for the way your smile lingered all the way until the red neon CLOSED sign flickered on.
Who perfected her coffee art—so of course, she started drawing tiny hearts and silly faces in your drinks. Who started leaving little notes on your cups. Sometimes a simple have a good day, sometimes a quick sketch of the way your hair looked that morning. Who gushed to her coworker about the spark she swore she felt when your fingers brushed against hers that morning. Who spent the whole day thinking about it—until she finally worked up the nerve to ask you out.
The sun was out, she was off for the rest of the week, and she knew you were too. So she said it. Do you want to go out with me? And when you didn’t even hesitate before saying yes? She let out a tiny scream of excitement in her car—only to immediately stop, remembering her windows weren’t that tinted.
Barista Abby! Who melted the first time you kissed her cheek after your second date.
Who finally stepped foot into the bookstore where you worked, taking in the scent of paper and vanilla—the same scent that always lingered on your clothes. And as she watched you move between the shelves, smiling at customers, in your element, she thought—
Yeah, im really, really gone.
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deluboo · 11 months ago
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MIDNIGHT INK.
genre: smut — 18+ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ contains: unprotected sex oral sex rough sex heartbreak
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ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ © DELUBOO 2024.
sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. you needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.
finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.
"hello?"
"hey, before you leave, can i get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "trying to get a cover-up."
"yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"
"alright, cool, thanks." you stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.
glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. it was 11:20. with a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. the tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but october's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.
despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—jungkook. he was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.
upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. his dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.
"hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "ready?"
you nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "yeah, thanks for staying late."
"no problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. he gestured to the tattoo chair. "take a seat. let's see what we're working with."
as you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.
"alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. his fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.
jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of… december… 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.
embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "yeah, that's when we started dating."
he hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "this will be a great cover-up. do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"
"i trust you," you whispered. "just something that represents a new beginning."
jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "got it. i'll sketch something out quickly."
you watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. the room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. after a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.
"how about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.
the design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "it's perfect," you grinned.
"glad you like it. let's get started," he smiled.
he carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.
you nodded, unable to find your voice. the first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. the pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of jungkook's hands on your skin. each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.
jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "you're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "just a little longer."
you tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. the tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. his fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.
as the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. the combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. you could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.
"how does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.
"it's… it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "thank you, jungkook."
he smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "almost done. just hang in there."
the final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. when he finally finished, jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.
"all done," he said softly. "take a look."
you stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. it was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.
"wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "i love it."
he stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "i'm glad you like it," he said.
for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.
"thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.
jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. his touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "you're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "anytime."
as you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. the tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.
jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "you know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "i've always been here for you. and i always will be."
his hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.
"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.
your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. the anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.
unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. the kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. the sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.
your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. the sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.
jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.
you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i've wanted you for so long."
he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.
with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. he kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.
your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.
"jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.
he responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. the kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. with a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.
"need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.
jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.
he made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. he kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.
his fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. you gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.
"you're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "i want to taste you."
before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.
jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.
"i want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.
you nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. the sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.
the sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.
jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "you're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.
"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i'm yours."
the words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.
jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. he collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.
for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
"that was…" you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.
"amazing," jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
you nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "yeah. amazing."
jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "i told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "i'll always be here for you."
you nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "and i'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.
jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "we should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.
you smiled, leaning into his touch. "yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.
he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i like the sound of that."
the two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. the reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.
eventually, jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."
you nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "okay."
jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. he was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.
once you were both dressed, jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. he wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. the intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.
"thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "for everything."
he smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "anytime, y/n."
with a final, lingering kiss, jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. you knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.
as you stepped outside, jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "call me when you get home, okay? i want to make sure you're safe."
you nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "i will."
he watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. as you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. the night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.
later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.
the intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. the screen displayed jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.
you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "hey,"
"hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "i just wanted to make sure you got home safely."
"i did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "thank you for checking."
there was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. finally, jungkook broke the silence. "i can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, y/n."
"me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "thanks for the special treatment."
"it was special," jungkook agreed. "i've wanted to tell you how i feel for so long, but i didn't know if you felt the same way."
"i do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "i feel the same way, jungkook."
he let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "i'm glad to hear that. how about we make this official? can i take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"
your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "i'd love that."
"great," jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "i'll pick you up at seven. sweet dreams, y/n."
"sweet dreams, jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.
the next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. as the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. when the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.
jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. he greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "you look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.
"thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "you look great too."
the dinner was perfect. the two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. after dinner, jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. the night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.
as you reached a quiet spot, jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "y/n, i meant what i said last night. i'll always be here for you. i want to be with you if you'll have me."
your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "i want to be with you too, jungkook. more than anything."
he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.
the weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.
you found yourself spending more and more time at jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. the walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.
one evening, as you lay in bed together, jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "i've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.
"what is it?" you asked, turning to face him.
"i want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "i want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. what do you think?"
your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "i think i'd love that. more than anything."
moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. you merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy sunday mornings.
one evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. sitting on the couch, you and jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. it felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.
jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "we've come a long way, haven't we?"
"we have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "and i wouldn't change a thing."
as the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "i can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.
"me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "with you by my side, i know it will be amazing."
as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. the journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.
your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. together, you and jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.
as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.
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hivemuthur · 9 days ago
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a lil request, for freaktor friday or not
soo
what if vik found out the reader comes easily and is a visual learner so he would make them come just by making them watch him suck strap buckled to their hips and giving them a lil show
I feel like this should have a new day of the week invented, but I say it's Freakday since I lack better options :v
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Oral Fixation
viktorxfem!reader explicit! blow jobs (?) + fingering (fem receiving since it just came out this way), established relationship, disgusting love, Reader is a complete simp, but Viktor likes it.
word count: 3,3K
author’s note: I feel like this belongs in the pegging universe, so I just kinda nodded to myself in this one, you can treat it as a part two -> here's the pegging fic. @rennethen beta read! RIP all of us cockless. Also, i hope you didn't mind the ask spam people and happy Freakday :v
It’s impolite to stare—you were always told. But whether out of sheer defiance or overwhelming curiosity, you’ve never paid much attention to what’s polite and what isn’t. You were right, of course, and the world was wrong. Your long ogling sessions have earned you a partner with equal levels of fixation and a mind as brilliant as it is open—keeping up has only ever been a thrill.
What started as one tiny indulgence on your part—a glance toward his hands—soon bloomed into full-blown obsession. The fruits of which would betray you to anyone who opened your notebook, now full of sketches. Every knuckle, every wrinkle rendered with the kind of care that screams affection.
And it betrays you, as you feared, when those same hands—immortalised in ink—leaf through the pages. Heart plummeting, you watch him carefully. See if he’s noticed. But the moment Viktor holds the book at arm’s length and compares one of your sketches to his open palm—you know it’s over.
He teases you for weeks after. “Is it just my hands that interest you?” he asks, all innocent and smug. “Or are you curious about other people’s hands too?” You swat him for it, ignoring the ‘cripple’ card he pretends to pull, but you’re still smiling as you walk away. You can’t help it.
And what turns out to be true—despite everything—is that it was never just his hands. Nor anyone else’s. It’s the whole of him. The strange, perfect sum of all his parts.
The next fixation is his eyes, though you don’t linger long. He’s too quick, too perceptive, and your stares never go unnoticed. So you move on. His nose comes next. Here you stay for a while, long enough for him to finally clock your silent advances. And Viktor—mercifully—makes the first move.
This, of course, opens up a whole new range of possibilities. All those parts hidden under layers of clothing that you’d only been able to imagine are now granted to you—completely denuded. Pure skin, and sinew, and bone, laid bare only for you to worship. Falling asleep with your ear to his stomach is bliss. Kissing over the bruises left by the brace—a privilege. Pressing your mouth to where his underbelly hollows, trying not to let your breath tickle him—pure joy.
There is one part, however, that managed to escape your attention—until recently. Viktor’s lips.
They are not the kind of mouth you’d notice at first glance. Not full, not plump. But you’ve watched them closely now, and they are a wonder in their own right. The way they purse when he chews absently on a pencil, softening when the pressure eases. How his fingertip comes to rest at the corner of his mouth whenever he’s deep in thought, tapping once, twice, then stilling. You’ve seen him lick his lips after a sip of too-hot coffee, tongue darting out to chase the steam before it vanishes. Watched how they part around a spoon or the edge of a fork, cheeks rounding slightly as he eats, the motion making his whole face look softer—almost unfamiliar.
And when he smiles—genuinely, openly, without irony—his whole face pulls taut with it. The corners of his lips lift first, then the skin around his eyes creases in that way that makes your heart ache. His mouth was never just a mouth. It was a thousand quiet gestures stitched together into a portrait you hadn’t even realised you were memorising.
Viktor, the ever present hawk eye, notices. Mid-sentence, no less, pencil resting slack against the paper while you fixate on the way he mouths the words, vowels rounding tenderly, adding new meaning to the phrase soft-spoken. He doesn’t call you out this time—not exactly. Just tilts his head and smiles in that way that means he’s caught you again. You fail miserably in looking away.
Later, when the work is packed and the clock tells you it's much too late to be lingering, Viktor rises and holds out a hand with purpose.
"Come," he says, voice low with something just shy of caballing. "I’ve thought of something that might make you happy."
You quirk a brow. "You're awfully confident for someone who still insists on instant coffee."
He hums, not rising to the bait, just draws your hand into his and begins walking. The halls are quiet. His cane clicks softly against the stone. "You’ve been looking at my mouth like it holds all the secrets of the universe," he says. "I figured… maybe it should offer a few answers."
You stumble a little, less from the pace and more from the way heat curls in your stomach at the implication. “And you’re not going to tell me what you mean by that?” you ask.
“I think you’ll understand soon enough,” he says, glancing at you sidelong. “If I’m right—and I usually am.”
Viktor doesn’t lead, not in the traditional sense. He doesn’t drag you behind him or push you to move faster. Instead, he floats ideas, opens doors—metaphorical and literal—and lets you choose whether to walk through. He is an eager and generous lover, yes, but also a careful one. He has never once assumed. He doesn’t chase power, he invites trust.
Even when he first offered you his most tender parts, baring himself not to surrender but to be seen. That night had been many things—electric, cathartic, almost embarrassingly emotional—but what lingered most was the way Viktor had looked up at you afterward. Like you’d cracked open something in him he hadn’t known was closed. Like he wanted more.
And now, this. Another door. Another idea. Wild, hushed for now, but clearly mapped out in that labyrinthine mind of his.
The lock clicks behind you as he shuts the dorm door. Viktor turns to face you properly, smile curved like he’s hiding something behind his back. "Will you let me show you?" he asks. His voice is quiet, but sure.
You nod, cheeks blooming into that lovely vermillion he likes so much. He watches the colour spread like paint in water—utterly taken. “Good,” he says simply, and nods toward the chair near his desk. “Get undressed. Sit there.”
You raise an eyebrow at that, already pulling at your shirt hem. “Are you getting undressed too, or am I the only one baring all tonight?”
Viktor’s smile curves sharp, wicked. “There will be no need. Not yet.”
The way he says it—not yet—twists in your belly like silk pulled tight. You settle into the chair, shifting as your skin meets the cool seat, but Viktor is already moving, reaching to the drawer by his bed. He returns not with flourish, but with quiet certainty, cradling the harness like it’s something precious.
“Is your attitude in need of… maintenance again?” you tease, though your voice comes a little thinner than intended.
Viktor glances up, bemused. “Not particularly,” he says. Then sits—gingerly, carefully—onto the pillow he’s placed at your feet. One leg at a time, he slides the straps up your calves, his hands as gentle as they are precise.
“Not tonight,” he repeats, fastening the harness into place on your hips after you lift for him obediently. His thumbs skim the edges where leather meets skin, slow and certain. “But I do have another gift for you.”
You glance down, and your chest flutters with a shaky laugh that barely makes it out.
He’s loosening his cravat now, slow enough to watch your eyes track every movement. The silk slips through his fingers, down his chest and off to the side. The top buttons of his shirt follow, granting you a view of the elegant dip of his collarbones, the pale skin of his throat. He’s flushed—not just the dusting across his cheeks, but his ears, the tips of them going pink like they always do when he’s on the verge of something exciting. His pupils are near-black, and his lips curl into a smile that might’ve passed for shy, had you not known him as intimately as you do. He’s so distractingly pretty you almost overlook the cock hanging between your legs.
“I’ve noticed,” he begins, voice low, “that the full-body scan you’ve been giving me lately seems to halt on my mouth for quite some time.”
You start to object, or maybe laugh, or deny it outright—but Viktor continues, silencing you with little more than a look. “I don’t think anyone’s ever taken me apart so lovingly before,” he murmurs, and you feel the weight of that confession settle in your chest, curling into a warm ball like a cat that has finally found its place. “So allow me to indulge you.”
He shifts between your legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Then another, higher. His breath is warm, his lips scalding. But he doesn’t rush. Instead, he reaches up for your hand and brings it to his mouth.
The first kiss lands at your wrist, soft and gentle. Then he begins to drag his mouth over each finger, tongue flicking along the pads like he’s trying to ruin you right there. His lips close over your index, drawing it in with slow suction, warm and slick, and your breath grows heavy and burdened with need.
But Viktor takes his time. Tongue curling underneath, tracing the crease where knuckle meets palm. Then he shifts to your middle finger, sucking deeper, until the wet sound of it becomes a pulse between your legs. His eyes remain fixed on you, half-lidded, patient and unhurried. You can feel the way his tongue presses up against your skin—how he lets the pad of it slide along your body with intention, tasting you.
He nips, briefly, at the base of your thumb, then soothes the mark with a kiss so gentle it barely registers. There is no part of this that is idle. He worships, he savours. He learns.
Your eyes have not closed for a while. Even when you blink you make sure you can still see him, utterly beguiled by the trace of shiny spit his mouth produces around your fingers. The slide of it, the pout he makes to suck around you until your own hand burns with all the hot blood circulating through it. You are certain Viktor can feel your pulse on his tongue.
He releases your hand with a quiet pop, a fine thread of slick still connecting the two of you. For a moment, he simply looks at you—then his gaze drops.
One hand steadies your thigh, fingers splayed and gentle. The other slips between your legs. First, to check something very important. Whether he was right.
He teases your entrance, clever hand searching, and when he finds the answer, he gasps softly. The quiet sound that follows is unmistakable—confirmation, and proof, and reward. Your eyes flutter closed, unthinking.
“Eyes on me at all times, love,” he says. A small, firm correction. Not harsh, never. But enough. You open them again, immediately.
He’s already looking up at you, chin tilted, lips parted like he might lean in and take a bite. The light catches in his eyes—hungry, but so focused, so careful. His fingers stroke through you again, slower now, like he’s waiting to see every reaction he can draw from your face with just the tiniest movement.
When he speaks next, his voice is lower. Intimate. Pleased. “Good. That’s very good.”
And then, oh—a kiss. Nowhere near your skin. On the tip, sweet and teasing, it pries at the hinges of your jaw, makes your eyes go wide. It is as if you can feel whatever Viktor presents. Your mind, drunk already, soaks in the sight of him at your feet—but mostly, his mouth. Wrapping solemnly around the length nestled between your thighs. With the slide of his lips, two fingers ease inside you.
They curl, slow and steady, knuckles grazing soft where you’re most sensitive. But even that stretch is a distant hum compared to the way your brain short-circuits watching him.
What Viktor is doing is maddening enough with the phantom feeling between your legs, and you cannot stand the idea of what it would actually feel like. He’s not rushing. No frantic bobbing, no mess—yet. Just the steady, measured pressure of his lips gliding down, then pulling back.
And though you don’t feel the warmth of his mouth there, the sight of it—him—at your feet, eyes half-lidded, cheeks hollowing—is enough to have your body tensing up and toes curling.
Whenever your eyes fall closed, he stops. “Watch me,” he says firmly, pulling back just enough to speak, lips brushing the tip in a mockery of a kiss.
The pace he sets when you obey is punishing in reverse—the slowness of it, tormenting. His fingers inside you only add to this feast of teasing, but it strikes you that you can endure it, so long as Viktor never rises from his spot.
Innocence is not your virtue—you’ve thought about it. But now you're convinced that vivid imagination isn’t your virtue either, since the fantasy has absolutely nothing on the reality of Viktor’s mouth caressing the underside, lips shining. Gorgeous, you think.
He moans, pleased, as if to perplex you, a glint of joy dances in his eye when his tongue flattens out and the inanimate head slaps against it. Drool wells around your cock, and you imagine how warm it is, how smooth the slide must feel in Viktor’s mouth—how it would feel to you if it were actually attached to your body.
And as if all of that is not maddening enough, Viktor pushes back down. Lower, further, past the barrier of throat, where his vein is faintly risen, where you can see his quickened pulse painted in pale blue. He doesn’t stop when he gags—just squeezes his eyes shut for a beat, breathes through his nose, and steadies himself. The sound it makes is so vulgar, and it only seems to spur him on. He pulls back, lips stretched glossy around you, then lets it rest heavy on his tongue. Holds it there, looks up, eyes dazed but daring.
You gulp, and he doesn’t. Not until he needs to, and even then, he does it dramatically—lets it fall from his mouth with a slick gasp and a trail of spit, only to drag his tongue along the underside as he catches his breath.
All the while, his fingers are moving with studied intent inside you, curled perfectly, just shy of unbearable. And then—
He takes it again. This time deeper. Swallows it down. At the same moment, he thrusts his fingers to the hilt and presses his thumb firm against your clit. You cry out, reflexive and raw, will your eyes to stay open through the blur of tears, desperate to not miss anything.
It’s not enough to come, but nearly. Nearly is worse. So you move, slow at first, unsure, rocking your hips in shallow thrusts—meeting the wet heat of his mouth, and pressing his fingers deeper in return.
He hums around it, and the phantom vibration flutters straight through you, your brain somehow wills it into existence. You watch the lines of strain on his face, the determination behind his eyes.
It’s odd, in a way. Viktor is always speaking—explaining, coaxing, teasing. But now, his mouth is busy, and the absence of his voice only makes you crave it more.
You hear it anyway, conjured from memory. How he sounds when he praises you. How he groans when you ride him. How he whispers your name like a confession. But the sounds he’s making now—wet, guttural, wanting—are nearly enough.
Before you know it, your ass slides to the edge of the chair, wood creasing the skin of your cheeks, hips spilling over. Your hands come up to cup his face, and it’s the first time Viktor closes his eyes—calm smoothing over his features, as if your fingers have ironed out the tension.
And then—oh God—you’re certain Viktor plots to ruin you eternally, when his jaw slackens, and he offers you a gift. Control. Messy, and glistening with his spit.
He brings your hands to his throat, one at a time, guiding them. Your thumbs prop his chin, and he waits—mouth provocatively open, trusting—waiting for you to move your hips into his palm, between his lips.
It’s surreal, the way he opens for you—so patient, so steady. The way he makes himself available without ever surrendering power. You can see it in the set of his brows, in the calculated push of his fingers inside you, the press of his thumb against your clit timed with every breath he takes around the length in his mouth.
You move, slowly at first. Testing the tension in your thighs, the wet glide of his lips. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. His hand stays on your hip, just placed there, letting you do the rest. And whatever you do is yours to decide.
So you fuck his mouth tenderly, a rhythm born of instinct and awe. Not for the cock, not for the illusion—but for him. For Viktor, who has always known how to give. For Viktor, who never rushes but always sees you.
He moans again—low, almost a hum, the vibration somehow finding a way of seeping straight into your gut. You want to tell him he’s beautiful. That he’s undoing you. That no one’s ever looked so good sat on their ass with a cock between their lips. But your mouth won’t cooperate—your mind, already fraying, can't hold language when he curls his fingers just right and presses the flat of his tongue along the length.
The chair creaks beneath you when your hips stutter. His lips are wet, stretched, cheeks hollowing with every pass.
It comes faster than you expect. Your hand finds his hair and you pull— just enough. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and unblinking. Your mouth falls open, your thighs tremble. He groans around the base, and it tips you over—hot and high and breaking against the inside of your chest.
Your body curls forward. His hand, warm on your belly, holds you through it. Hazy, you gasp and breathe heavily, the rise and fall of your stomach made real by Viktor’s touch. When you step beyond the other side of climax, the side of warmth and pliancy, you slip down from the chair, knees finding the floor, and Viktor’s arms open instantly. The harness shifts between you—warm and slick with his spit, now nudging his stomach awkwardly. It makes you both laugh, breathless and low. Still, you clamber into his lap, careless of grace, needing only to be close.
Your arms go around his neck. His hands bracket your hips. You wrap yourself around him like you might fall through the floor otherwise, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing deep. The scent of him, the sweat on his collar, the faint ghost of whatever soap he used this morning—all of it hits like safety. Like home.
“God,” you sigh, voice threadbare. “How do you know me so well?”
He hums. You feel it in his throat before you hear the answer. “I am very observant,” he murmurs. A kiss to your temple. “And curious.” His hands shift at your back, stroking slow. Then, softer still: “And I love you an insane amount as well.”
The words crack something open inside you. You hold him tighter, and mumble quietly into his shoulder. “There is no other way to love you than an insane amount, Viktor. You are my biggest fixation.”
“My fixation,” he repeats, tasting the word like it belongs to him now. “Come to bed.”
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cuddlyeren · 1 month ago
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Sketching us back together
After an argument before a friend’s birthday party, Hamzah and Y/N spend the night being petty toward each other. Hamzah, still annoyed, decides to get a caricature drawing with Chase instead of Y/N, knowing she had been looking forward to it. As Hamzah gets his drawing done, guilt starts to eat at him.
(Long fic 3: )
The party was already in full swing by the time Y/N and Hamzah arrived, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. They had argued earlier over something small—something that, in hindsight, probably wasn’t worth the cold silence now settling between them. Y/N didn’t want to fight anymore, but Hamzah was still annoyed, his jaw clenched as he walked a step ahead of her into the party.
“Hamzah!” Chase called from across the room, waving him over. Hamzah didn’t hesitate, choosing to head straight toward him instead of lingering near Y/N. She sighed, crossing her arms as she glanced around for Mandy and Martin.
“You two still mad at each other?” Mandy asked as she and Martin approached.
Y/N shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore. He’s just being petty now.”
“Yeah, he is,” Martin agreed, watching as Hamzah and Chase laughed at something across the room.
As the party carried on, Y/N tried to enjoy herself, chatting with a few people and sipping on her drink, but she couldn’t ignore the way Hamzah barely acknowledged her. She could feel his eyes on her sometimes, but every time she looked his way, he was quick to turn back to Chase or someone else.
Then, she noticed the caricature artist set up in one corner, already sketching people. Excitement bubbled in her chest—she had always wanted to get one done with Hamzah. Maybe this could be their way of making up.
She turned to find Mandy and Martin, who had already clocked Hamzah’s behavior.
“Go tell him to come do it with you,” Martin suggested.
“Yeah, it’d be cute,” Mandy added.
Y/N hesitated, glancing at Hamzah, who still looked irritated despite laughing with Chase moments ago. She exhaled and made her way toward him.
“Hey,” she said, standing beside him. “Want to get a caricature together?”
Hamzah barely spared her a glance. “Nah, I’m good.”
Her stomach sank. “Really?”
Chase raised a brow but didn’t say anything.
Martin and Mandy, who had followed behind Y/N, stepped in. “Come on, dude, don’t be lame,” Martin said. “Go with her.”
Hamzah let out a small scoff, then turned to Chase. “Nah, I’ll do it with Chase instead.”
Y/N blinked, the words hitting her harder than she expected. Chase, caught in the middle, looked between them awkwardly. “Uh…, are you sure?”
Hamzah nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Y/N forced herself to nod, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took a step back. “Got it,” she mumbled, turning away before anyone could see the disappointment on her face.
Mandy nudged Hamzah’s arm, giving him a really? look, but he just shrugged it off, still too caught up in his pettiness to realize what he had just done.
As Y/N walked away, Martin sighed, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re being an idiot.”
Hamzah rolled his eyes, but when he finally looked toward where Y/N had gone, a pang of guilt settled in his chest. Maybe he was being an idiot.
————
Y/N sat on the couch, her arms crossed as she fumed. At first, she had been sad—disappointed that Hamzah was still holding onto their dumb argument—but now? Now, she was pissed. If he wanted to be petty, then fine. Two could play that game.
Mandy sat beside her, sighing. “You good?”
Y/N exhaled sharply. “No, but whatever. If he wants to act like that, I’m not gonna sit around waiting for him to get over it.”
Mandy smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. Come on, let’s go hang with some of the other girls.”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. Together, they made their way to a group of girls who were chatting near the drinks. It didn’t take long before they were all laughing, sipping on their drinks, and enjoying the party. Y/N made sure to be extra engaged, laughing a little louder, smiling a little brighter—just enough so that if Hamzah was watching, he’d know she wasn’t sitting around sulking over him.
Meanwhile, across the room, Hamzah sat beside Chase as the artist worked on their caricature. At first, he had been smug about it, thinking he had won whatever silent battle he was having with Y/N. But as the minutes passed, that feeling faded.
He knew how much Y/N had wanted them to get their caricature done together. She had mentioned it more than once, even getting excited about it before they arrived at the party. And what had he done? Chosen to be petty instead of just letting it go.
Chase, who had been quiet for a bit, finally spoke up. “Hamzah… I feel like you should’ve done this with Y/N.”
Hamzah let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing toward where she stood with Mandy and the other girls.
He messed up. And now, he had to figure out how to fix it.
——
As soon as the artist handed Hamzah the finished caricature, he barely glanced at it before standing up. The guilt was eating at him, and he knew he had to fix this. He didn’t care how annoyed Y/N was—he wasn’t about to let this drag on any longer.
He scanned the party until his eyes landed on her. She was still with Mandy and the other girls, laughing and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. But Hamzah knew better. He knew her.
Taking a deep breath, he made his way over, his heart thudding in his chest. As he got closer, Mandy spotted him first. She raised an eyebrow, then subtly shook her head, giving him a clear don’t do it look.
Hamzah hesitated for a second, but he wasn’t about to back down. Ignoring Mandy’s silent warning, he walked right up to Y/N.
“Hey,” he said, standing beside her.
Y/N didn’t even acknowledge him. She kept talking to the girl in front of her as if he weren’t there.
Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Y/N,” he tried again, his voice softer.
Still nothing. She didn’t glance his way, didn’t pause in her conversation—nothing.
Mandy smirked, sipping her drink. “Told you not to come over here.”
Hamzah shot her a glare before turning his attention back to Y/N. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, I get it. You’re mad. But can you at least talk to me?”
Y/N finally turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze for a second before looking away again. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk earlier,” she said coolly.
Hamzah exhaled. Yeah, he deserved that.
Mandy leaned over to Y/N, fake whispering, “He had so much fun getting his drawing with Chase, though.”
Hamzah groaned. He knew Mandy was milking this just to mess with him.
Y/N crossed her arms. “You should go back to him. Maybe you guys can frame it and put it up in your apartment.”
Hamzah sighed, stepping closer. “Come on, don’t be like that—”
Y/N turned away from him again, fully ignoring him now.
Hamzah was getting desperate. He knew if he let this go on, it would only get worse. And he hated it—hated when she was upset with him, hated when she pulled away.
Hamzah wasn’t going to let Y/N keep ignoring him. So, before she could turn away again, he grabbed her wrist—gently but firmly—and pulled her toward a quieter corner of the party.
“Hamzah—what the hell?” Y/N hissed, yanking her arm away as soon as they were out of sight from the group. She crossed her arms, glaring at him.
From across the room, Mandy spotted them and shot Hamzah a you just made it worse look before turning back to the girls, smirking.
Hamzah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I messed up. I was being an ass, and I shouldn’t have done the caricature with Chase.”
Y/N didn’t say a word. She simply stared at him, unimpressed, before shifting her gaze to the party like she had somewhere better to be.
Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Y/N, I’m serious. I know you wanted to do it together, and I was being petty. I’m sorry.”
Silence.
Hamzah groaned, rubbing his face. “Damn, you’re really mad at me, huh?”
Still nothing.
He stared at her, frustration bubbling inside him. But beneath it, there was something else—something like panic. He hated this. Hated being on bad terms with her, hated the way she was shutting him out.
He exhaled, his voice softer now. “Y/N… please.”
She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. Then, she shrugged. “I don’t know, Hamzah. Maybe you should go back to Chase.”
Hamzah shut his eyes for a second, knowing he deserved that. But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.
Hamzah sighed, stepping closer. “Okay, I get it. But listen, we can still get our drawing done together.”
Y/N gave him a blank stare. “The line is longer now, Hamzah.”
“So? We can wait,” he said quickly. “Come on, you wanted this, right?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, shifting on her feet. “I wanted to do it earlier, with you. But you already got yours with Chase, remember?”
Hamzah groaned. “I know, I know, but let’s just do it, okay? Please?”
Y/N pursed her lips, looking at him for a long moment. Hamzah could tell she was still pissed, but after a sigh, she finally muttered, “Fine.”
He let out a relieved breath and gently grabbed her hand, leading her toward the line. She followed, but her annoyance was clear in the way she barely spoke or reacted to anything he said.
They stood in line, and at first, Hamzah tried to make conversation, cracking jokes or nudging her playfully, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She gave short answers, if she answered at all.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Y/N tapped her foot impatiently, crossing her arms. “This is taking too long.”
Hamzah sighed, glancing ahead. There were still a few people before them, but they were getting closer. “Just a little longer, alright?”
Y/N let out a sharp exhale but didn’t move.
Twenty minutes.
Twenty-five.
Hamzah could feel her patience running thin, and he was getting nervous again. He had just convinced her to do this with him, and if she left now, he’d be screwed.
Thirty minutes.
That was it. Y/N let out an annoyed huff and turned to leave.
“Y/N—wait—” Hamzah reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“No, Hamzah, I’m done.” Her voice was firm, and for the first time that night, he saw real frustration in her eyes. “I already wasted enough time waiting for you earlier. I’m not waiting anymore.”
And with that, she walked away.
Hamzah stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, realizing that somehow, he had made everything even worse.
——-
Y/N stood off to the side, away from the party, staring into the distance. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mind replaying the night over and over again. She wasn’t just annoyed—she was disappointed.
She had wanted this to be something special, something fun. But instead, it turned into another reminder that Hamzah could be so stubborn and frustrating.
She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not Mandy, not Martin, and especially not him.
But, of course, he was the one who came looking for her.
Hamzah approached cautiously, his heart sinking at how closed off she looked. He didn’t say anything at first—he just stepped closer and, without warning, wrapped his arms around her.
Y/N tensed immediately. “Hamzah, no—” She tried to push him away, placing her hands against his chest, but he only hugged her tighter.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, still trying to push him away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his face in her neck, pressing gentle kisses along her skin. “I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have been petty, and I shouldn’t have ignored you. You deserved better.”
Y/N exhaled sharply, her resolve starting to crack. She was still annoyed, still frustrated—but she was also tired. Tired of being upset, tired of fighting.
Her arms, which had been pushing against him, slowly relaxed.
Hamzah felt it—the way she wasn’t resisting anymore. He took it as a sign and hugged her even tighter, pressing one last lingering kiss to her cheek. “Please don’t be mad anymore,” he whispered.
Y/N sighed, finally giving in. She rested her head against his chest, letting his warmth calm her. “I should still be mad at you.”
Hamzah smiled slightly, running his hand over her back. “I know.”
She stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling, “I really wanted that drawing.”
Hamzah squeezed her gently. “I know. We’ll still get one. I don’t care if I have to hunt down another artist tomorrow—I’ll make it up to you.”
Y/N let out a tired breath, finally wrapping her arms around him. “You better.”
Hamzah grinned, knowing he was finally out of the danger zone. “I will. Anything for you.”
And this time, he meant it.
-
Hamzah kept Y/N in his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back as she finally leaned into him. He felt relieved, but the guilt still lingered. He had ruined her night, and he needed to make it up to her.
Before he could say anything else, Mandy and Martin appeared, smirking as they spotted them in their embrace.
“Aww, look at him, all soft now,” Mandy teased, nudging Martin. “Wasn’t this the same guy who was too busy with Chase an hour ago?”
Hamzah groaned, rolling his eyes but keeping his arms wrapped around Y/N. “Not now, Mandy.”
Martin chuckled. “Nah, man, we gotta talk about this. You had her out here mad as hell, and now you’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”
Y/N smirked slightly but didn’t say anything, just letting Hamzah suffer through the teasing.
Hamzah sighed, finally pulling away just enough to look at Y/N. “Okay, I need to fix this.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he was already moving, scanning the party for the artist. He spotted the caricature station and saw that the line was still long. Damn.
But Hamzah was determined. Without hesitation, he walked up to the group in line.
“Yo, I need to go next,” he said, already pulling out his wallet.
A few people raised their eyebrows. “Uh, bro, we’ve been waiting—”
“I’ll pay for all your drawings.”
That got their attention. The group exchanged glances before someone shrugged. “Bet.”
Hamzah smirked. One by one, they all agreed, and soon enough, he was at the front.
Wasting no time, he turned on his heel and rushed back to find Y/N.
Y/N raised an eyebrow as he grabbed her hand, dragging her through the party. “Hamzah—what are you—”
“No time, let’s go,” he said, weaving through the crowd.
She barely had time to process before they were back at the caricature station. Hamzah sat down first and, without hesitation, pulled Y/N onto his lap.
Y/N gasped slightly, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders. “Hamzah—”
“We’re getting our drawing,” he said firmly, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape.
The artist raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Alright, now this is a pose.”
Mandy and Martin had followed them, and Mandy laughed. “This man just paid off an entire line to make this happen.”
Y/N blinked, looking at Hamzah. “Wait—you paid everyone?”
Hamzah smirked, holding her tighter. “You wanted this, right?”
Y/N stared at him for a moment before shaking her head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
Hamzah grinned. “Yeah, but you love me.”
She rolled her eyes, but when the artist started sketching, she relaxed in his arms, leaning into him. And just like that, the night finally felt right.
—————————
This fic has been done for like 2 months already but I’m so lazy to post lol. Anyways I’m for sure being active now
I need ideas for stories tho):
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httpzsho · 2 months ago
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ᯓ LOVESICK | 리키
PAIRINGS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ grumpy!riki x sunshine!reader
GENRE ⊹ ࣪ ˖ fluff, grumpy x sunshine
WARNINGS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ light swearing
SYNOPSIS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ convincing riki to be partners with you seemed to be light work, maybe because actually getting to be his friend takes up 99% of your energy.
🂱 part two of “beneath the ice” !
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RIKI HAD HIS HEADPHONES ON, blasting clearly loud music that was seeping through. he leaned against his chair, sketching lightly on his pad. you tapped him gently on the shoulder— he looks up at you, the light in his eyes making you a bit flustered.
“sorry.. did I disturb you?” you say, nervously fiddling with your fingers.
he puts his head back down, resuming his agenda. but replies, “no, you're good.” you let go of the breath you didn't even know you were holding. “oh, thank god. anyway uhm.. where do you want to work on the project? a cafe or somewhere out is good, but I don't think we'd get to work on it properly with a crowd around us. and in my house or yours may give us a better privacy, and stuff.. but still! I'll be alright where you're more comfortable.”
he paused for a moment, probably debating in his mind. “yours,” he said. it's really a handful with him barely saying sentences. but atleast you can talk to him. you just hope he'll warm up more as time passes and you can actually get a good, working conversation.
“alright, I'll meet you by the gates after class.”
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you stood outside the gate, scrolling through your phone while you waited for riki. soon enough, tiny drops of rain hit your head. it's raining. you quickly grab an umbrella and shield yourself, though you start to worry about riki, if he had an umbrella. since the umbrella you had could only fit one.
a little while later, he tapped your shoulder, revealing him with his hoodie, the hood up on his head. “do you not have an umbrella?” you asked, he shook his head. you just nodded and proceeded to lead him to your house, walking slowly as the rain poured slowly. you tried your best to shield both you & him, but his taller figure makes it hard for you.
he notices your struggle, and takes the umbrella without a word and holds it for the both of you. you look up at him, seeing him covering you with your umbrella, but due to it being just enough for one person, you see the rain still hitting him. causing one side of him to be damp and the other to be dry.
“hey, you're getting we—”
“I'm fine.”
his tone wasn't rude or anything, but you knew better than to fight it. luckily, your apartment wasn't that far.
you both arrived soon enough, and you pet semi (your cat) before finally settling in.
“uh, riki?” you glance at him, his figure sitting on the couch.
“I have some spare clothes from my brother. he doesn't live with me, don't worry. he just has some here incase he visits, go and borrow some so you don't have to stay in that wet uniform. you can return it to me the next day.” you said as you handed him your brother's clothes. he mumbled a quick thanks before changing in the bathroom.
you waited until he finished before you started the project, opening your textbooks & doing some research.
TWO HOURS LATER
it's currently 8:06pm. you looked at the clock then back to your work. you've done quite alot in terms of work, but if it means any progress on you and riki's 'friendship', then nothing was made. in the whole hours of working, only small talks like “pass me that,” or “are you done with that?”. you didn't want to pressure him nor force him, but it really was frustrating you how difficult this was.
“it's a bit late. we can finish this the next day or two, the rain stopped too. do you want to go home?”
he got up and nodded, “yeah. I'll get going. thanks, __.” you smiled, leading him out the door.
“text me when you get home.”
“okay.”
UNKNOWN CONTACT: it's me, riki. I'm home.
to your surprise, he actually texted you. you grinned.
CHEOL Y/N: oh, that's good!
[CHEOL Y/N SET NICKNAME TO 'RIKI']
[RIKI REACTED '♡' TO YOUR MESSAGE.]
you smiled, knowing you'll be going to school on the next day with a grin on your face. you tucked yourself to bed, anticipating tomorrow.
tomorrow came, you got yourself ready, getting in your school uniform and tying your hair. you walked to school, as you got there, you already started looking for a specific dark haired boy— riki.
you went to the class, confused to not see him in his seat. he's usually early, earlier than everyone. this was new. classes passed, and he still was nowhere to be found. you were starting to get worried.
your lectures ended, it was 5:05pm. you quickly texted riki.
CHEOL Y/N: riki? why were you absent?
RIKI: oh, sorry. I got sick because of the rain last night. I had a fever and a cold. sorry.
seeing this you instantly made your way to his house. grabbing your bags and heading your way.
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the doorbell rang, riki wondered who it could be. to his surprise, he saw you—standing right infront of him as he opened his door.
“are you okay- was it my fault? 'm sorry! my umbrella was small, I'll repay you, I promise. I'll take care of yo—”
“how'd you get my adress?” you chuckled nervously, embarrassed. “.. well, i asked the professor. he has records of student's addresses in case of emergency. and I knew you wouldn't give it to me if I asked..” you rubbed the back of your neck.
“but anyway! how are you feeling?” you turned to him, he looked really tired. “I'm fine.”
you put the back of your hand to his forehead, feeling his temperature. “you're not, you feel hot. go back to bed I'll prepare your meds. I bought some on the way.” you exclaimed, shuffling through your bag.
“but—” before he could protest, you were already leading him up his bed.
after taking his meds, you put a damp lukewarm towel on his forehead to aid with the fever.
“just, relax. you won't get better if you don't get rest.”
you say as you sit at the chair near the bed, “I'll go home once you sleep. I need to make sure you actually listen.” you laugh.
“okay ma'am,” he joked, closing his eyes.
time passed and he started to make little snores. you observed his features, this was the first time you saw him this close.
you didn't realise how detailed and beautiful he actually was. your heart pumps a little faster.
you didn't realise you slowly started drifting to sleep, resting your head on the edge of the bed.
THE NEXT DAY
he stirs in his sleep as he woke up, surprised to see you sleeping on the edge of the bed with your body still on the chair. though, he figured you got tired after taking care of him. it confused him why you cared so much. others would've loved if he weren't present in the class anyway.
he glanced at you, noticing your half parted lips and your chest rising up and down. he would be lying if he said he didn't find it endearing.
he stayed still for a few minutes, just loving the comforting silence between the you & him world
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© work of saoirsezz | sho
173 notes · View notes
tinkerbellknockoff · 3 months ago
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Missing You // Ellie Williams x fem!reader
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Missing You // Ellie Williams x fem!reader
Ellie's sick and missing you while you're out on patrol.
-- a/n: wrote a small drabble cuz I needed to write SOMETHING
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Ellie could feel every tick of the clock and every second passing throughout the day. Time went by slowly, days agonizingly long as she sat and waited. And what was the thing she was waiting for?
You.
You were sent out on a week-long patrol of the surrounding area of Jackson, told to go a little further out than normal to see if there were any more settlements that could be raided for supplies and anything else that could possibly be found along the way. Ellie was supposed to go with you but unfortunately for her, she was sick. 
“It’s fine! I’ll be fine,” Ellie pleaded with you, her voice laced with annoyance. You were as stubborn as a mule (that’s how Ellie often described you, whether or not you liked it), her pleads going right above your head. 
“Ellie, don’t kid yourself.” You give her an uninterested look, “you’re sick. You’d only get worse by going outside.”
“But, babe-” Ellie pouted, following you around the stables as you grabbed the saddles to prepare your horse, “you’re gonna be gone a week. A week! What am I supposed to do without you?”
“I dunno, Ells,” you hum, placing the saddle onto your horse before turning to her, “be happy?”
“How am I supposed to be happy without you?” Ellie pouted. Looking over her expression she was clearly sick, her nose stuffy and red, her eyes droopy with exhaustion. You sighed, displeased, as you moved closer to her. Against your better judgment, you pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her lips.  She let out a soft hum as your lips met hers, quickly pressing back against you, following your lips as you pulled away. You let out a little laugh, shaking your head.
“Ells, no more kisses.” You spoke, and your comment was greeted with a groan. You shushed her before her complaints came, your goodbye having to be quick before she dragged you into another hour or so with her.
And that brings us to now. Ellie was bedridden for a bit, Joel came in after getting word from Tommy. Even though Ellie’s tough and stubborn exterior, she eventually succumbed to getting help but God- she wished she was being babied by you. 
That was her overall thoughts for the next while. She wanted to be with you. She missed you. 
The week eventually passed, and Ellie felt better. She was still slow and all, but definitely less of the congested mess than she was before. Ellie mellowed in her house, her earbuds in as she quietly sketched in her notebook. She didn’t even acknowledge the creaking of the door as you came in, purposefully quiet since you didn’t know if she was asleep or not. Your appearance was disgruntled, your hair in a messy bun chaotic as you gently plopped your bag down by the door. You felt gross.
But, even then, your eyes softened as you were greeted with the back of Ellie’s head as she quietly worked. You crept forward, the floor slightly squeaking underneath you as you came in. Your grin was mischievous as you realized that she was not paying attention at all. 
You ended up behind her, gently reaching your hands up to cover her eyes.  You felt her tense up for a minute, her breath hitching. You let out a soft giggle,
“Guess who?” 
Ellie’s face broke out into a grin as her hand crept up to wrap around one of your wrists, lightly tugging you down, “who else would have the nerve to sneak up at me?”
You let out a soft giggle before being silenced by a harsh kiss, Ellie practically slamming her lips against yours, before parting just barely- lips still touching,
“I missed you. A lot.” Ellie spoke with a soft voice. 
“I know you did,” You spoke with entertainment and endearment, Ellie simply responding by locking both of your lips again once more. 
172 notes · View notes
tetzoro · 1 year ago
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FROM THE START — ༉‧₊˚.
ft. jean kirstein !
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : your last semester is coming to a close with finals only a breath away. but your feelings for jean rage now more than ever. with a ticking clock now set, there’s only a matter of time left to confess your true feelings.
꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI! f!reader. college au, pwp, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names (pretty girl, baby), jean has a horsecock, creampie. — WC : 5.1k.
꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was going to be from a series i started a long time ago but i just condensed it into one lil fic. enjoy ^_^
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.゚
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“alright hot shot, tell me what you see.” jean asks, readying his pen up, wiggling himself in false anticipation. you roll your eyes and lay your head back on the towel.
you took a moment to appreciate your surroundings. the way the sun kissed your face, it’s touch warming your whole body up in the softest form of intimacy. gazing up at the clouds, you see a few notable shapes you could point out but your eyes wander to the water. the sound of crashing waves further soothing your mind as you take it all in. off on the horizon, you see the perfect formation of clouds.
“there!” you point up at a cluster of clouds. “it looks like a pirate ship with a whale swimming under it.”
“where the hell-“ jean trailed off, searching the sky for whatever abomination you were looking at. it was your guys' favorite game to play. you got to cloudgaze and point out the shapes in the sky while jean did a quick sketch of it so you could hold onto your piece of the cloud forever. “you’ve been watching too much one piece.” he grumped, starting to sketch.
“oh shut up.” giggling, you flip onto your stomach, watching him as he sketches. he always did a quick one, not wanting to linger on something for too long as he wanted to keep playing. his face was relaxed except for his eyebrows. the furrow of his brow matching the intensity of the grip on his pencil as it flew across the page. he was so lost in his own little world he didn’t realize you were staring. 
sighing from the lack of attention, you flip back over to look at the water. the waves were a force today, so strong that it scared even you to go into the water. but everyone else chanced fate as they swam around the shore.
“you better get your asses in the water!” eren shouts, making his way to you guys. judging by the look on his face, he was serious. 
“it’s too salty, i always get the water in my mouth.” jean complained, tucking his sketchbook away as eren made his approach. you never knew what kind of stunt he was going to pull.
“yeah? you wouldn’t even go in to save a damsel in distress?” eren smirked, his gaze turning on you as the water droplets dripped down his body.
“eren don’t you da-“ you squeal as he hoists you up, running towards the water as your literally kicking and screaming. eren just laughed as he rushed into the waves. the water wasn’t as cold as you thought it would be but it was still a shock. one that shut you up and made you cling to eren. “don’t you dare drop me.”
“wasn’t planning on it.” he smirked, giving you a tiny wink. “i was going to throw you.”
“eren!” you scream as he tosses you into the waves, water flowing into your mouth as you sunk down a little. you weren’t under the tide for long as an arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you up from under. 
“you’re such an ass.” jean’s voice rang out over erens laughter. you rub your eyes, trying to get excess water out before you turn your glare towards eren. you break from jeans’ hold as you launch yourself towards him, trying to push your weight on his head to push him under the water. but of course, he doesn’t budge.
“you’re so annoying.” you hiss, trying not to break out into giggles. “you always pull that shit.”
“come on, you like it. otherwise you would’ve learned your lesson by now and come swim with all of us sooner.”
you scoff, knowing that in his own twisted way, he was right. beach days like this were hard to come by, and with finals around the corner, it was much needed. 
mikasa and armin were on the shore, oblivious to the games that you guys were playing as they looked for shells. armin had his collection in his dorm, all the ones he’s found stuffed into a jar. 
connie and sasha had been in the ocean awhile ago but got out to take a snack break, leaving eren all alone in the water. hence, eren coming to bother you and jean. 
“still.” jean rolls his eyes, making his way by your side. “it’s not like you give us a chance to come in by ourselves. we’ve been here for what, 30 minutes?”
“classic jean, always complaining about something.” eren rolls his eyes right back at him, effectively pushing jeans buttons.
“why you little—“ jean took a step forward, only to be stopped by your hand on his chest. you look over and eren who tried to puff up his, ready for jean to come at him.
“alright guys, knock it off.” you sigh, looking over to mikasa for back up. like a sixth sense, she knew you needed her and made eye contact with you. it didn’t take her long to reach your side.
“eren, come help me and armin with the shells.” she said, her gentle yet commanding voice taking over the previous tension. eren scoffs again, immediately turning pink as mikasa touches his arm, trying to coax him to come with her.
that was all it took— the two setting off to the shore and back to armin. leaving you and jean alone once again.
“anyway,” you drag out the word, turning to face jean. he had calmed down a little but no one could rile him up like eren could. “wanna find connie and sasha? maybe see what they found to eat?”
“like they’d share.” he laughed, looking down at you. “besides, i’m kind of used to the water now. we might as well enjoy it since we are here.”
“are you being optimistic?” you tease, splashing him with the water. he looked at you with intense mock offense.
“i’m always optimistic!” he retorts, splashing more water back at you.
“yeah, right. you mean you’re always so dramatic.” you laugh, keeping up the game your started as you push water towards him.
“i’m gonna get you for that.” he laughs, splashing again. you two go at it for awhile until jean accidentally took in a mouthful of water — one of the waves not too kindly crashing over him. he spits it out with a disgusted face, his tongue slightly hanging out as the salt water rests on it. “blegh. this always happens to me. c’mon, let’s get out of here. we should probably get ready for the party tonight anyway.”
you nod, excitement flooding your veins for the party later. everyone was going to be there and you needed time to get ready and more importantly, get the salt water out of your hair.
you didn’t get a chance to look at him before, but as jean walked out of the water, you were painfully reminded at how fit he was. water droplets cascaded down his body, following the dips and curves of his muscles. even his mullet looked good, all slicked back and drenched in the salt water.
you let out a silent sigh as you follow him out of the water, mentally kicking yourself for staring at him for too long again. but the feelings he gave you swirled in your stomach, expanding to every synapse in your body before exploding.
tonight would be the night you tell him. tonight will be the night everything will change.
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jeans fingers clenched around the solo cup, the sound of it snapping easily getting lost in the sea of voices that filled the room. the remnants of his beer trickled along his fingers before he threw it to the side, wiping the rest on his pants in a haste.
it only took him a few steps to get where he needed to be — right in front of you. you with your perfect smile, perfect laugh, perfect perfect perfect. it’s all he could think when he saw you. how could you not realize that?
“you okay, jean?” you ask, the words sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth that all he wanted to do was savor them. your expression caught him off guard though, the sweet words not adding up to the coy grin you had spreading across your plush lips. “you look kind of angry.”
jean didn’t know what to say. did you know how he felt? were you trying to play him out to be a fool? but as soon as he heard erens stupid giggle, the words didn’t stop flowing from his mouth.
“you got a problem jaeger? something seem funny to you?” he snapped at eren, his voice low, signaling he wasn’t in the mood. but of course, eren was eren, and he loved nothing more than making a fool out of jean.
“yeah, actually.” he sneered, taking a step closer to jean. “i do think something’s funny.”
“enlighten me then. id love to hear what you find so funny.” jean fired back, taking a closer step to him, clenching his fist. they hadn’t fought in awhile but today, jean needed to let out some of his frustration. why did eren get your attention tonight? why couldn’t you talk to him instead?
he didn’t realize how close he had gotten to eren, practically touching noses, until he felt your light touch on his shoulder. a touch he had grown to be familiar with, something that never failed to soothe him, even just a little bit.
“guys, stop.” your voice breaks out. it was smooth, soft, but they both knew that underneath it lied something vicious. neither one wanted to see that side come from you, especially since mikasa was already side eyeing them. the two of you together was one of the scariest things anyone could ever face.
jean and eren took a hasty step away from each other, scowling and avoiding eye contact with one another. your hand slid from his shoulder down jean’s bicep, holding onto him gently. the act itself was so soft yet it held so much power over him. he couldn't help but lean into it before deciding to throw an arm around your shoulder.
something always felt so right when you were tucked under him like this. you fit so perfectly. your arm wrapped around his waist and he led you to the living room, away from eren.
“so, wanna tell me what happened back there?” you ask as the two of you manevoured towards your favorite spot. at every party, you guys would always find yourself at this spot by the end of the night. it was so cozy, the couch tucked in the corner of the room, away from the main sitting area.
he sat down and you followed suit. looking up at him, he looked slightly disheveled. his normally tamed mullet was all of the place, the result of him running his hands through it one too many times. plus, he didn’t look back at you. the bob of his left leg going up and down at an incredible speed. 
you place your hand lightly on his leg and the response was immediate. his leg halted its movement and his eyes found yours in record time. offering him a small smile, you reach up to smooth his hair back.
“nothing happened.” he said softly, watching you very carefully as you tended to him. relishing in the touch you gave him. “don’t worry about it.”
“jean,” you start, your hand caressing down his cheek, moving over to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. “you know you can talk to me, right?”
his cheeks were tinted pink, something you chalked up to the alcohol he was drinking earlier. but his gaze was set on you, peering down deep into your eyes. the contact almost made you shudder. 
“i know.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated what he wanted to say— or rather, how he wanted to say it. “i just got jealous is all.”
this, you weren’t expecting. out of all the things jean could’ve said, this never crossed your mind. the shock had your head reeling back, removing your hand from his hair. the loss of contact stirred a panic within him, mirroring the panic that was starting to bubble up in you.
“jealous?” you squeak out. jealous of what? of eren? or you? or what? jean stared into your eyes for a moment, the anticipation was rippling down your spine, finding it’s home in your stomach. 
“yes.” he breathed out softly, placing his hand over the one you had resting on the couch. “i was jealous.”
“of what?” you blink, at war with yourself. his hand felt heavy, almost suffocating but it was the only thing that could soothe you. the room was too small and the alcohol was churning in your stomach. your hand turned over, gripping onto his as a way to ground yourself in the moment.
“of eren.” he said, his brows furrowing as he took in your reaction. he didn’t mean for this to come out now, but you looked so sincere when you told him to talk to you. all the things he’s never told you bubbled up in his throat, threatening to spill out if he didn’t do something. his fight or flight was activated, and he didn’t want to run away this time. “i wanted you-“
the gears start turning in your head as he spoke, knocking off the dust before it struck like clockwork. 
the room around you guys came back into focus as someone knocked their drink over you both. the liquid seeped into the fabric of your dress, eliciting chills all over you but you weren’t sure if it was from this or from the conversation you were having.
normally, you’d laugh something like this off. it had happened before and it was bound to happen again. but the stakes had been too high, your emotions were already being drawn out and this was just too much. 
“im so sorry-“ reiner said, trying his best to find something to help clean you up. all you could do was stare at your stained dress. what was jean going to tell you?
“way to go reiner.” jean hissed, standing up to face him. reiner was at a loss for words; it was an honest mistake. but jean wasn’t mad at him, he wasn’t even mad that he spilled his drink on you guys — accidents happen. no, he was furious because you were on the verge of tears and he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or not.
“jean.” you say, grabbing his clenched fist. he hadn’t even realized he had been so wound up. he helps pull you up, tucking you back under his arm. the smell of his colonge enveloped you in a warm embrace, one that felt familiar to you and cleared your head from the fog that was slowly wrapping itself around you. “let’s get cleaned up.”
he froze. he absolutely froze. the tiniest smirk rose on reiner’s face as he turned away, getting back to the party. jean wanted to punch it right off. 
“let’s go to the bathroom.”  he steered you away from the party towards the back of the house. many faces passed you guys as you walked forward, but all you could do was look at the man leading you. he held onto your hand as he dragged you through the party, pulling you behind him so you don’t get separated.
your eyes trail along his arm, lingering ever so slightly at his bicep — was his shirt always that tight? he looked good, even though parts of it held remnants of reiners drink. continuing upwards, you land on his face. 
his jaw was tensed as he pulled you through the crowd. determined, fierce. like it was his duty to escort you to the bathroom and it wasn’t something he took lightly. in all your years you knew jean, you don’t think you had ever seen him as clearly as you did in this moment.
you two make it to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, shutting the door and closing you both in. 
“i’m sorry about reiner.” he sighs, moving to grab a towel as you hop up on the counter. you watch him move with a strong purpose, a serious one that involves drying your dress. 
“it’s okay, accidents happen.” you shrug as he starts patting the towel against the cloth, trying to absorb whatever he can. but you both know the damage was done — the dress was stained and seeped with alcohol, it’s only hope was to throw it in the washer. 
“i think we need to call it.” he says with a small smile, looking up at you perched on his counter. you smile back down at him before feigning a frown. 
“so soon? not even giving her a proper fighting chance?” you sigh, “but if you insist, what are our options.”
“well,” he took a step back to hang up the towel, the loss of his presence already hitting you in the gut. “you’ll have to wash it but in the meantime i can give you some of my clothes to wear.”
“aw, thank you jeanbo.” you hop off the counter. “that would be perfect.”
taking your hand, he leads you into his bedroom before he searches for something suitable for you to wear. you look around his room in the meantime, your eyes landing on his sketchbook — open to the boat he was drawing earlier at the beach. you smile to yourself, glad that he has kept it. 
jean breaks you out of your head, tossing you some clothes and you go back into his bathroom to change into them.
after peeling your dress off and throwing on the clothes he gave you, you walk back into his room and see him sitting idly on the couch, twiddling his thumbs before you capture his gaze. 
“what?” you ask him, eyes widening as you catch him staring. he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away like he wasn’t just giving you his undivided attention.
“nothing!” he quickly says, slightly pink in the cheeks as he turns back towards you. “it’s just, you look good in my clothes.”
“oh?” you give him a little smirk and he regrets ever opening his mouth. rolling his eyes, he goes to retort but it dies in his throat before he ever had the chance to spit it out.
you were right in front of him — how you got there so quickly, he’ll never know. the palms of your hands rest on his shoulder before you lower your face to his level. 
“you really think so?” you tilt your head to the side with a smile, one of your hands running up along his neck and to the back of his head, playing with the edges of his mullet.
you weren’t sure what made you feel so emboldened, the alcohol you had earlier was long out of your system. but something pushed you towards him like a magnet, a voice in your head encouraging you to finally confess like you planned.
“i really do.” his breath almost hitches as he looks at you. “you always look good though, the prettiest girl in the world.”
his compliment hits you in the chest, blooming into a warmth that seeped through every nerve in your body. your faces were so close, your breathing was shallow, all it would take was a little nudge to — 
but he beats you too it, forever a man driven by impulse. surging himself forward to capture your lips against his, pouring every ounce of passion into it — desperate to let you know how he feels without uttering a word. 
his hand cradles loosely around your neck, using it to pull you forward so you’re falling into his lap. your heart was soaring with each kiss, already addicted to the way he makes you feel — how dizzy your mind grew as his sweet kisses filled your head.
“is this okay?” jean whispered against your lips. everything was so warm; like the beginning of summer igniting that special buzz in the air. you wanted it to swallow you whole, you wanted this more than you have ever wanted anything before in your life. you nod against him, moving your lips back onto his in a hurried fashion. 
jean wasted no time now. he wrapped his arms around you and hiked you further up onto his lap, groaning so sweetly into the kiss you two shared. as each passing second went on, the messier the kiss got. breathing was the last thing on your mind right now, all you could do was feed off of what jean was giving you and hoped it would be enough to sustain you.
jean was no better, his hands couldn’t stay still. finally, he was able to be with you, no more dancing around each other. a part of him wanted to kick himself for waiting so long but the other part told him to enjoy this moment. so he planned on it.
his hands slide up under your shirt, the cold metal from his rings causes you to gasp at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest against him. jean took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, pulling you in closer. 
there was no telling how long you two stayed tangled up together on the little couch in his room, the make out session only growing needier and needier. years of pent up tension was finally able to flow. 
“let’s move on the bed, yeah?” jean asked, his eyes still shut from your kiss.
“yeah.” you nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you both stand up. he walks backwards toward his bed before the back of his knees hit it. he sits, pulling you down on top of him once again, his hips moving up so you can feel his hardness ache for you.
“been wanting this for so long.” he murmurs, moving his lips from yours, to your cheek, down your jaw and back to yours for a heated kiss. “ever since i met you.”
“me too.” you breathe out, already craving to be closer to him. “can't wait any longer.”
hooking his hands under your backside, he quickly flips you so you’re under him, sprawled out on his bed in ways he’s dreamed about for years. 
“me neither.” he surges back down, his kiss growing needier with every second. the clothes you had just graciously put on were now being pulled off by him — along with his own. he pulls back for a moment to admire you, taking in every curve of your body. you almost want to shy away from his gaze but the look in his eye was so loving, so full of adoration, that you didn’t. “you’re so beautiful.”
and with the way he said it, you believed it.
he doesn’t waste anymore time, moving you around so he can ease himself over you, slotting himself between your legs. his hair fell in front of his face a bit so you reach up, tucking it back behind his ear. the sweet, simple gesture sent him into overdrive, hungrily kissing you as a man who had been deprived of it since the day he met you.
his hand smoothes down your side before his fingers find themselves between your thighs. hestitantly, he prods against your slick entrance, almost nervous to take the plunge. but you’re quick to reassure him, rolling your hips to greedily suck his digit in.
he moans into your mouth, feeling how tight you are around his finger. his mind already wandering to how snug his cock will feel once he’s  finally inside of you. but he knows he has to prep you first, slipping in another finger to properly stretch you out.
and the sweet noises you make fill his head with a peace he’s always longed for. every sense was focused on you, addicted to showering you in pleasure. he could spend all day doing this, soaking up every mewl of his name.
“jean, please.” you pull back a bit to speak, the sounds of your cunt squelching from his fingers filling the room. “need you to fuck me.”
“anything you want.” he kisses the corner of your mouth, quickly taking a hold of his cock and pressing it against your entrance. “you ready for me?”
“i am.” you nod, hips already moving as you try to find friction. he starts to push in, the tip of his cock already stretching you out. the girth alone has your toes curling but it felt like his cock was never ending — consistently shoving more of it in, inch by thick inch. 
“almost there, pretty girl.” he grunts, eyes trained on you, searching for any hint of pain. the stretch felt so good, splitting you open as he finally bottoms out. you both let out a gasp, your warm walls snuggly wrapped around his cock in a heaven he never dreamed of existing.
he murmurs sweet praises in your ear as he lets you adjust, telling you how good you are, how tight you feel. softly kissing your temple as you give him the go ahead to move.
he starts slow, sensual. taking his time and dragging his cock in and out, searching for that special button deep inside of you. 
it felt like he was everywhere, so lodged up into you, you swore you could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your heart. it stole your breath away, lungs losing function as you gasp for air.
“that’s it, baby, just keep taking it. i promise i’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? you don’t have to do a thing.” he kisses your neck, leaving little marks of love in his wake. “you’re already doing s’much, making me feel so, so good.”
“jean i-.” you croak out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he finds the soft, cushiony part of you, a place where your fingers could never reach. he completely filled you up, your mind already growing hazy from it.
“gonna go faster, okay?” he presses a soft kiss against your jaw, your head nodding along to whatever he was saying. “so good f’me.”
his praise has you clenching around him, eliciting a guttural moan from him. it was all it took to break the last bit of his resolve — hips starting to snap against yours.
there was no way you could stay quiet, the pleasure was overwhelming, leaving you to forget where you were. the cry of his name had his ego soaring, cockiness filling his veins. his hand covers your mouth as he drives into you harder.
“can’t be too loud, unless you want everyone at the party to know how good i’m making you feel.” he murmurs. you could tell by his tone that he was feeling as good as you were, pleasure already threatening to consume him the longer he thrust into you.
his hand lowers from your mouth, opting to use it to hike up your leg, propping it over his shoulder. if it was even possible, he was deeper — his cock practically kissing your cervix.
he knew he wasn’t going to last long. a nearly impossible task that he knew going in, he’d fail. but as long as you came around his cock, he’d count it as a win.
his deft fingers find your neglected nub and your body all but jolts under his hold. he swirls your clit around in measured circles, your cries only growing louder. but he’s too entranced to cover them up — every instinct telling him to keep giving you more.
“jean!” you cry, “i’m s-so close!”
“go ahead and let go f’me, need to feel you.” he encourages, hitting that spongey part harder as his fingers deliciously dance along your clit. his approval pushed your over the edge, back arching up as ecstasy took you away.
the sight alone had jean’s hips stuttering. as if you could read his mind, you said, “cum inside, jean. need you to fill me up.
the whine you let out had him pushing his pulsing cock as deep as he could before releasing inside of you. his hips jolt with each rope of cum, groans of your name slipping out of his mouth as he fills you up. every time you clenched around him only pulled more cum out of him.
“cant stop cumming, fuck-.” he rasped out, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he finally finishes. he falls beside you, trying not to put all his weight on you as his cock continues to twitch in your warmth.
all you can do is try to catch your breath, gazing at each other, sharing the same thought of why did this take you so long.
he slowly pulls out of you, both of you letting out a soft noise. pressing a kiss to your head, he stands up and grabs a towel, carefully cleaning you up. 
once he’s done, he lays back down in bed, his back hitting the pillows as he pulls you up into his arms. your head rests against his chest, no doubt listening to his ever-racing heart — the one that only beats for you.
“jean-“ you say at the same time as he says your name. you both giggle at each other, feeling weightless in each other's embrace. 
“you go.” he encourages you, moving so he can get a better look at you. 
“i um.” you feel heat rise to your face. after everything you just did, confessing your feelings still feels nerveracking. but looking into his warm eyes, it melts away those doubts, filling them with hope instead. “i love you.”
“i love you too.” his face splits into a smile, one that eases your soul and lulls you into him. he takes a deep breath, ready to spill out everything he’s been feeling. “i want you to be mine. i want to wake up next to you everyday, i want to draw you pictures of the clouds all day long, i want to kiss you whenever you need a kiss, i want to hold your hands on the days that life feels too much. please, be my girlfriend.”
“of course jean.” you smile, leaning up to press a lingering kiss on his cheek. “i was yours from the start.”
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10ava01 · 11 days ago
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Drawn to You
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Jason Todd x F reader
Masterlist , Request??
Summary: Maybe wishes come true when you least expect it, but what happens when the magic runs out?
Troupe: hurt, jealousy, Jason being bf coded, hopeless romantic, yearning
Your fingers were messy. Stained with colour as you traced the edge of his jaw for probably the third time tonight. You wanted everything to be perfect. The shadowing needed to be perfect in order for the complete painting to look lifelike. You wanted Jason Todd to look perfect, just like he is for you. The only character that lived rent-free in your head ever since you turned sixteen. The only character you have ever drawn since then.
Your lamp on the nightstand was the only glowing light in your room, the rest cast in a cozy mess: pencil shavings, empty mugs, plates, books everywhere, blankets halfway off the bed, and sketches—dozens of them. As always, all of them were of him. Hood off, hood on. Gun drawn. Grin crooked. Scarred and perfect. And now, with the last stroke of your pencil, you sighed and rested your head against the page, cheek meeting the paper. Almost imagining that you could feel him.
"You're not even real," you mumbled sleepily. But more than anything, you wanted him to be real. And with that thought, you fell asleep.
What you didn't know—what no one could explain—was how the clock hit 3:00 AM like a spell being cast. The air shimmered. The pages beneath your cheek pulsed faintly. Then, in a quick flicker of red and black, the impossible happened. Your wish came true.
The one and only Jason Todd appeared. Not in a sketch. Not a dream. The man of your dreams became real.
He staggered slightly, his boots heavy against the wooden floor of your bedroom. His helmet was in his hands, his dark hair ruffled and damp like he'd just left the middle of a fight. His blue eyes scanned wildly—walls filled with art, posters, shelves bursting with books, half-dead succulents, framed photos and plushies in every corner. And then his eyes landed on you. Peacefully asleep. Your head in a sketch of… him.
“The hell?” he whispered.
There was no reasonable explanation for this. For him being here, but that didn't mean he wanted to wake you up at this odd hour. So instead, he sat down on the worn couch at the end of your bed and let out a deep breath he was holding onto for a long time. Everything seemed so strange but at the same time it did not worry him. Sure, he had seen over the years some strange things, but this didn't even make the cut. The room smelled like lavender and pencil leads, chaos and comfort. His eyes lingered on your face. He recognized that kind of exhaustion—soft and vulnerable. He looked down at your sketchbook. It was him, he was sure of it. Your drawings were telling him that you saw through him, through all the masks, and that scared him a little.
All he could do now was wait for you to wake up and have any kind of explanation. Jason leaned back and waited for you.
You didn't even scream when you woke up. In the morning, you shuffled from the bathroom, yawning and adjusting your glasses with a towel wrapped around your head, muttering about something Jason didn't understand. Then you saw him. Your eyes widened as you saw him sitting. In your room. You dropped your towel as you panicked. “What the—”
Before you could even scream, Jason was on his feet, hands gently but firmly clapping over your mouth. He pressed you against the nearest wall, careful not to hurt you but overwhelming in his size, eyes wide and pleading. Your doe eyes almost made him regret pinning you against the wall, but what else could he do?
"Shh, okay? Just—don't scream. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just need answers. And maybe some damn coffee too."
You only nodded in shock. Sure, you had wished for him to be real, but as he towered over you, all your thoughts vanished. How—when—why—what—every reasonable question left your head as you tried to make sense of what was going on right now. He slowly pulled back.
Of course, you didn't have any answers. You had drawings, an obsession maybe, but not any explanation for how the fuck Jason Todd was standing in your room. But that didn't mean you wanted him to go home. This is what you wanted for the longest part of your life, and having him so damn near you just made you a little selfish. You're not even near to sending him back even if you could.
He followed you everywhere, almost like a personal bodyguard. Even to school.
“I’m not letting you walk into a building full of weirdos and hormonal jackasses by yourself,” Jason muttered, arms crossed in your doorway. You rolled your eyes at that, but did not argue. Not really. You didn't hate it—in fact, you enjoyed every second of it. Spending time with him became the best part of your life. There was a time when you wanted to know what it would be like having a conversation with him, and now you did it so casually.
It had been a few days since he magically showed up—mysteriously, impossibly, into your world—and now you were cautiously weaving him into your life. Everything still feels like a dream to you. A dream that you don't want to wake up from. But this is real, which means you have to eventually introduce him to Tyler.
“Okay, so listen,” you said while zipping up your bag. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Kinda have to.”
You don't even know why you sound a little nervous, because it's Tyler. Maybe it’s the part where you get to show a little part of your life to Jay and that makes it official for him to be more real. You don't even know what this is at this point.
Jason frowned. “Do I have to smile?” “No. Just be... normal.” “You’re asking a guy with a kill count to act normal.” “Jason.” He smirked. “Fine. Lead the way.”
Now you almost regret mentioning anything. His teasing just proved to you that maybe Jason should only live in your own world, where you get to have him to yourself and kinda don't have to share him. While this does sound a little selfish, what can a girl do?
Tyler met you at the steps like always with his grin, bouncing with too much energy for his own good at 8:00 AM in the morning. “Hey! I saved us a table. You brought—”
His words got cut short as his eyes landed on Jason who was standing beside you. And Jason, you might ask? He was already sizing him up like he'd just scanned his criminal file. His next victim.
“Tyler, this is Jason,” you said carefully. “A… family friend. He’s staying with me for a bit.”
It was best to address him as a family friend since calling him your cousin would be a little too weird, and family friend sounded safe.
Tyler extended a hand. “Hey, man. Nice to meet you.”
A little fear was in his voice, but that man towering practically anyone would make someone scared, you guessed.
Jay did not move at first, then—finally—he shook it. Briefly. Firmly. The kind of handshake that's more of a warning than a friendly welcome. “Sure,” Jason said flatly. “You too.”
Tyler laughed, trying to lighten the tension. “So, you’re into comics too? Or just Y/N’s favorite vigilante?”
Well, you kinda froze at that. Jason did know that you liked him, well your drawings explained everything to him, but hearing that from someone else made it clearer.
Jason’s jaw ticked. “Something like that.”
The whole walk inside, Jay didn't say a word. Almost too lost in his head, until Tyler peeled off to class.
“That’s the guy, huh?” And here you thought Jay would be more mature than those horny teenage guys, but his teasing just proved you wrong. You sighed at him and asked dumbly, “What guy?” “The one that's always texting you, while you ignore it every time. The one who keeps looking at you like you’re dessert.” Now you're even convinced that he is acting like a jealous boyfriend, but the thought of him being your boyfriend didn't sound so bad—so just to humor him, you played along. “He doesn’t—” “He does.” You gave him a look. “Jason, he’s just my friend. He’s been around forever.” “Yeah, and he wants more. Guarantee it.” “Even if he did, I don’t.” Maybe you did notice over time Tyler being more clingy toward you, but that didn't mean he wanted something from you, right? Jason stared at you, eyes dark and unreadable. “Then say it.” You faltered. “I… I don’t want to make it awkward.” Jason scoffed. “Right. So you’d rather keep letting him stare at you like that while I walk around pretending I’m not one word away from knocking his teeth in?” “Jason.” “I’m serious.” Now he definitely sounds jealous.
You wanted to say it. Almost said it—I don't want him, only you. I always wanted you. But those words got stuck inside you. You couldn't bring yourself to say them even if you wanted to.
Jason stepped back at your silence. “Forget it,” he muttered. But he didn’t forget. And you knew it.
Later that week, the tension between them only thickened. You don't even understand how. They don't even spend time together for it to happen, and when they see each other, the silence falls onto you.
Jason leaned over your shoulder in the library while you studied for your upcoming test, his tone casually lethal. Not to disturb anyone, but his intentions were something else—you could feel it. You didn't bat an eye at it, like you always did, not with him.
“So… Tyler,” he muttered. “Is he always this handsy, or is today special?” You have to pick your brain for a second to understand what Jay’s talking about, because there was no way in hell he would let this go easily and you know it. You didn’t look up. “Jason.” “What?” His voice sounds so innocent that you almost believe that underneath his words there isn't a possessive tone in it. “Don’t start,” you warn him. “I’m not starting. I’m observing. The guy basically drools every time you talk. It’s like watching a golden retriever try to flirt.” Now you aren’t even sure in what way Jason had become your boyfriend that wanted you to be his and his only. While that thought sounded like heaven, he wasn’t damn near being your boyfriend and so it frustrated you more when he acted that way. You laughed under your breath to not show him any sign of your little enjoyment toward his behavior. “He’s just a friend.” You try again to make him understand that Tyler will always be a friend to you and nothing else. Jason raised an eyebrow, unconvinced again. “Right. That’s why he’s staring at your lips while you explain basic math.” “He’s not—” You glanced across the room to make sure that Tyler isn’t anywhere near you to hear Jay talking about him. That would only hurt his feelings, and that would also mean Jason wins in this whatever battle both of them are having between them. Some ego thing, you’re sure of it. To your luck, as always, Tyler was, in fact, staring. Which proved his point even more, that you wanted to put some sense into Tyler’s brain since he doesn’t have some. You groaned in anger. “He’s harmless.”
Jason only leaned closer. You could feel his breath on your neck, which made you almost forget that he was talking to you. Him being so close to you made you forget everything. The library, what you were doing, what you were talking about. The only thing that mattered to you was him. Only him.
“He wants you.” At his voice, you snap out of your thoughts. So what if Tyler wants you? That didn’t necessarily mean you want him. If you wanted that, then you would have been together for a long time—but you don’t. You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes. “And what if I don’t want him?”
Jason froze for a second. His lips parted, just slightly. “Then say it.” He isn’t anywhere near letting you go with this, it's almost like he needs your confession to prove something. What that is, you don’t know, but you shy away anytime he brings that up.
Your heart stuttered. You became nervous, and only if you could confess it. Just speak. Just— But you didn't. Too afraid to spill out the truth. That only if he felt the same way, you could have told him about your feelings. About your love for him.
And Jason’s eyes cooled, pulling back like you had just confirmed his worst suspicion. That you proved his whole point. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered in disappointment.
But you did only want him. The man of your dreams had always been him, and you just didn’t know how to show it to him. Make him believe it. Make him see it.
At night, things shifted for the better as you hoped. The silence between you wasn't bitter anymore—it was heavy with everything unsaid. The unspoken.
Sometimes you had fallen asleep shoulder to shoulder, your hand against his thigh while he read one of your favorite books. Sometimes he’d pull you between his legs and wrap his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as you sketched something quietly.
Sometimes, you'd talk for hours in the dark, your voice muffled in his chest, his fingers brushing lazy circles into your skin beneath your hoodie. You never crossed any serious lines, but you’d shared something deeper than anything physical. It was in how his hand found yours under the dinner table.
It was in how you brushed his hair from his face when he fell asleep on your bed. It was in the unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to leave each other. You were his peace. And he was the part of you that had always been missing.
Both of you became comfortable with each other, that your routine had also become his. Every moment of your lonely life had become something great. All the loneliness had just vanished, just because of him. You don't even know how you could go back to how it was—how everything was before him.
“You’re tense,” he murmured once, brushing his lips against your temple. “That guy bothering you again?” “No. Just… school.” You didn’t want to worry him about your thoughts. You didn’t want to admit how scared you were about him leaving you, and there wasn’t a guarantee that he wouldn’t vanish into thin air in a matter of seconds. So rather, you pushed your thoughts away like you seem to do in the last few weeks and started focusing on him.
He didn't believe you, but he let it go since he came to understand that sometimes you need time to process things on your own—then you would talk to him about it. Like you had done over the past weeks.
Once, while you were studying, he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear. Like the way they do it in the romcoms. His face was right in front of you. So close that you could see how beautiful he was up front. In person. You didn't move, too afraid that this moment might shift if you did. And you didn't want anything to change. Everything was perfect like you always imagined. “I could stay here,” he said softly. “I mean it.”
You wanted to believe his words so bad. Believing them meant that you could live happy for the rest of your life.
Instead, you whispered, “Do you think you’re real?” Jason’s eyes softened. His thumb traced over your knuckles. “You feel real to me.”
That's all you needed to fall in love with him over and over again. Sure, you had fallen for him over the years, but he was here. As a person that you could speak to, feel, and have. He was truly your person that you wanted to grow old with, experience everything with—every failure, every emotion, as long as you did it with him by your side. As long as he stayed by your side.
And then, the next morning— You woke up all alone. The other side of your bed was cold. No boots by the door. No Red Hood helmet on your desk. No Jason. Just your room being lonely as always. Just your mess of sketchbooks filled with his face. Just your heart breaking in a matter of seconds. Because you had to face the truth somehow: You never introduced him to anyone, you never had taken him to your school, you never had the chance to tell him he was the only one for you. Because he was never real and never yours in the first place.
And now you walk through your days with a silence no one hears, with answers you never will get. And a name you will whisper into your pillow like maybe, somehow—he is still listening to you. That maybe all of this is a cruel joke. That maybe this is a dream and not the one where you had him. Almost had him to yourself.
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rieamena · 9 months ago
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the first date!
a continuation of my ino has a crush on you post wc: 0.6k honorable mention: that special nonnie who motivated me to write this
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ino who waits patiently for your shift to end, seated at a small, corner table near the café’s counter. his outfit—a soft gray sweater and dark jeans—is casual yet thoughtful, a reflection of his nerves and excitement. he watches you with admiration, noting the way your smile brightens the room as you interact with customers. as the clock ticks closer to the end of your shift, he can barely contain his anticipation
ino who greets you with a wide, relieved smile as you finally clock out. he stands up, the bouquet of flowers he’s holding looking slightly wilted from his nervous grip. "hey, beautiful," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "ready for our date?" he presents the bouquet with a shy smile. "i thought these might brighten your day after your long shift." "oh my god, thank you! they're so pretty." you reply, your smile genuine. you glance at the wrapped package in his hand. "and what’s this?"
ino who looks slightly flustered but quickly regains his composure. "oh, it’s just a little something i thought you might like," he says, looking away bashfully, placing the mystery gift in his bag. "but the real surprise is the location. follow me." he takes your hand and leads you to a charming rooftop garden tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city
ino who set up a cozy picnic in the garden, the area softly lit by fairy lights and adorned with comfy seating. as you both arrive, you see a table set with a spread of assorted pastries, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling cider. "i wanted to create a relaxing atmosphere since working at the cafe can get a bit hectic," ino says, nervously arranging the last few items. "i hope you like it." eyes sparkling with appreciation, the crinkle of the bouquet's packaging was heard as you set it down on the table. "like it? i love it! it’s incredible!"
ino who, as the evening progresses, grows more comfortable and opens up about his own interests. "i’ve always admired people who can get lost in a good book," he says, laughing softly. "i tried writing a short story once, but it ended up being a total disaster." you laugh along with him, taking a sip of your cider. "oh come on, i’m sure it wasn’t that bad. maybe one day you'll let me read it!" "maybe…"
ino who surprises you with a gift towards the end of the date. "i remember you mentioning your love for journaling," he says, pulling out the wrapped box from earlier. giving it to you, you tore off the wrappings, revealing a beautifully crafted book. "i thought this might be a nice place for you to jot down your thoughts or sketches." you take a moment to admire the journal’s intricate design before looking up at him, "you really didn't have to." "i wanted to."
ino who walks you back to your place, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. as you reach your front door, you turn around, "takuma," he looks at you with an unreadable expression. something between, nervousness, confusion, and anticipation. "i'll be planning our second date. let's say a week or two from now?" "what?" "second date. you. me. together."
ino who can’t help but grin widely. "YES! i mean, uh, awesome," he says, his excitement poorly contained. "i’ll be looking forward to it." "and so will i." inching closer to him, you gave takuma a quick peck on his cheek, squealing and running into your home immediately after. "goodnight!!!" "goodnight sweetheart…" he mutters, brain still processing everything. as he walks away, hand planted his cheek as if to protect the kiss you gave him, he reflects on the evening with a satisfied smile, already eagerly anticipating your next date
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I LOVE YOU INO TAKUMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
jjk taglist
@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice
@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @gojosbrat @raindropsonrwses
@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud
@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @lailuv21
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wisteriaiswriting · 9 months ago
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Tire Me Out
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Words: 650
Stumbling through your dark room, having stubbed your toe on your bed frame twice. Lightly kicking anything in your way, with only the faint moonlight guiding you to the lightswtich near the door. Shutting your eyes and covering them when the light was turned on, slowly pulling them away as you adjusted.
The clock on the wall told you the time, 2:52. Fuck. What was wrong with you today? Shaking your head before looking around, hoping to find something to steal your attention until you pass out where you were. Something you would definitely regret in the morning, but much to your dismay there was nothing.
Huffing as you switch the light off, reaching for the door only to hit the wood. Taking a deep breath in, silently but seething as you let it go. Finally getting the door open to find a pitch black hallway, unable to see even arms length from you. Scrambling through a nearby storage bin full of junk, luckily finding a small torch.
Now that you were awake and outside your room you realized two things, how dry your throat was, and it was fucking freezing. But you couldn’t find the energy to search for something warm or return to bed yet, so you quietly made your way down the hall.
Normally you’d find others awake, like cascading from under doorways with whatever they did cutting through the silence. But not tonight, it seemed what Medic said had everyone listening. The medbay door was slightly open but he wasn’t anywhere in sight, who was likely off in Heavy’s room.
Sniper wasn’t even in the base but you couldn’t care less to check on him, not like he had much else to be doing anyways. Hearing snores from a variety of rooms, Demo, Soldier and even some from Scout. Not daring to enter Spy’s or Pyro’s room, but you were daring when it came to Engineer.
Warm light was covering the ground and you, swear to god, could feel the heat from how long he’s had the light on. Without the background noise of tools running you had to be quiet entering, which he didn’t notice. Finding him hunched over his desk, sketching on some blueprint paper.
“What are ya doing cowboy?”
He dropped his pencil in an instead, reaching for a nearby wrench. Slouching when he noticed it was you, only to pick up the pencil again.
“Could say the same for you darlin~”
“You could, but I asked first!”
Not noticing him wince at your voice, walking around him. Unable to fight the urge to pick up and look at everything in reach. Stopping when he took something from your hand,
“Now, what are ya doin’ up this late?”
Only able to shrug at his question, watching him huff.
“If you're gonna stay, lay down in the cot.” Pointing his thumb towards the back of his workshop, finding a cot with a thin blanket and flat pillow. Sensing your thoughts he continued, “Or my bed might be better for ya.”
Instead of choosing any of the options he gave, you decided to sit on an empty spot on the desk.
“Don’t you go ruining anything now.”
“Me, break something of yours? Never.”
Feeling gunslinger sit on your hip, his flesh hand pinching the bottom of your shirt.
“I’d rather not risk it, so why don’t you hop off.”
“Then where would I go?”
Wordlessly he picked you up, quickly and surprisingly gently placing you onto his lap.
“That’s where, or would ya rather go back to bed?”
“I’d rather not, but what about you?”
“I’m more than comfortable here sugar,” A quick scan of your face revealed… some intentions alright. “What are ya planning there?”
He was surprisingly out of his usual overalls, which you welcomed. Lowering your hand under his shirt, laying it on his stomach.
“Oh don’t you worry about it~”
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doctordeathawaits · 1 year ago
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Transproxy tips? I'm a proxy to Slenderman (/srs I'm a pop culture pagan) and wanna feel more connected to him and use my transition as an act of devotion.
@radhell
I shall try my best , here is something similar that I have posted before that may also help . Once again , as a Jeff fictive , I'm mainly gonna be basing these tips from what I have personally seen proxies do .
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TRANS - PROXY ...
Firstly - what do they do ? They maintain order around a given location , translating Slenderman's thoughts and speech , making sure nothing is in the way of Slender's orders . They work and serve Slenderman .
The man (?) tends to forcefully recruit his workers , yet I have seen some who ' enlisted ' on their own .
Before enlisting , you would be doing yourself the biggest favour by training . Start running , take up climbing and parkour , learn how to use a weapon / self defence . Already knowing those aspects will help you to not endure torturous training in the circle .
Know what you're dipping into , once you enlist , you can't leave - only death can take you out of that circle , so prepare mentally .
Know how to navigate forests , you're gonna be spending lots of time in them . Know how to use a compass , know how to quick-sketch maps , how to read the time without a clock .
Desensitize yourself to blood , you're gonna be seeing it more than normal .
Now , here's how to enlist into The Proxies ;
Make sure your devotion is known and heard - once you feel uneasy , as if someone is watch you , that's when you should do this ; .. At around midnight , on a new moon , go into the forest / woods . Take a known trail , if you see unfamiliar paths , ignore them . .. Do not bring any sort of cameras , phones , electronics . Bring a flashlight . You can use your phone flashlight - yet turn off your location / completely reset your phone . .. Keep your eyes to the ground , do not look up - if you feel / hear someone follow , do not run . Walk in a normal pace . If you feel sick , nauseous , hear ringing , have blurry vision , numbness ; do not back down , keep looking down and walking the path . .. If your flashlight starts flickering , do not freak out , keep going . If your phone starts to let out static / randomly start playing radio channels , do not freak out - you are allowed to brisk-walk . .. If your flashlight starts rapidly flickering , stop walking and close your eyes tightly . Listen around you , if you hear someone close - do not freak out , keep still . .. Once you feel a faint voice in your head - answer it out loud , answer it's questions truthfully and only truthfully . .. If you feel some sort of stinging / tingling at a specific point on your body , do not freak out , stay still ; congratulations , you were accepted . If you do not feel this , if the voice goes quiet for way too long , you shall walk backwards a little bit until you can turn around and leave the forest , you were not selected . When you have been accepted - the stinging point is generally where your identification symbol is ( The Operator Symbol ) . From what I've seen , it's in places where you can just easily flash it at someone to identify yourself - yet it can range from person to person .
So , if you became those proxy fucks , congrats buddy - from what I've seen , there is a hierarchy to proxies , the new ones don't get the dirty work , although worship has been positively received .
Hope the best for you and your journey - happy transitioning < 3
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drunkewok · 3 months ago
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Tiger Inside Chapter Thirty-Seven
Masterlist
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Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated
WC: 3.5k
Pairing: Lee Know x reader
Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons
Please do not copy or repost my work
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The dining table sat littered with a jumble of electronics, diagrams, and notes. The warm, golden light from the chandelier cast a comforting glow over the organized chaos, diffusing the stress of the task at hand. Felix’s eyes squinted as he studied the schematics on his screen, before           turning focus on the small device held precariously in his hands.
Leaning over the table, I scanned the crudely drawn layout of the banquet hall I had sketched. My finger traced the focal points circled in red ink, cross-referencing them with the list scribbled on my notepad. I had hoped that pouring my energy into focusing on the task could distract me from my stressful morning. 
Felix and Jisung had wasted no time ordering an array of dresses the moment they’d gotten my permission, and they had arrived at the house only a few days later. They had woken me up far too early, the two practically vibrating with excitement for me to try the selections on and show off for them.
It was overwhelming, to say the least. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but with every new dress I slipped into, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that none of them were quite right. It wasn’t that the dresses weren’t beautiful–they were. Felix and Jisung had impeccable taste, each gown more stunning than the last. But no matter how perfectly they fit or how well they suited me, I couldn’t seem to connect with any of them. Each time I stepped out to show them, I felt like I was falling short, as if my indecisiveness was somehow letting them down. They had put so much care and effort into making this experience special, and yet, dress after dress, I only sank deeper into the hollow feeling that I was searching for something I couldn’t find in their seams.
Felix was the first to suggest taking a break from our impromptu fashion show, and his gentle words felt like a small weight lifting from my shoulders. He reassured me softly, reminding me that with so much going on, choosing a dress was probably the last thing I wanted at the forefront of my mind. “Maybe if we step away for a bit,” he suggested, “and you try on your favorites again later, one might stand out more.” His understanding tone eased my scattered mind, making me feel less like I was failing and more like it was okay to take my time.
For the rest of the day, Felix and I had set up shop in the dining room, determined to finalize the mapping of the hall and fine-tune the new earpieces. Time seemed to blur together, each of our days vanishing faster than the last, and the gala loomed closer with every tick of the clock. The pressure was palpable, but there was no room to slow down now.
I let out a long sigh, leaning back in my chair and stretching my arms above my head, trying to release the tension in my back from being hunched over. “I can’t believe we’re still messing with this stuff when the gala is practically already here.”
Felix chuckled, his focus never wavering from the earpiece in his hands. “I’d say a bit of last-minute chaos is pretty on brand for us.” His lips curled into a quick grin with a small chuckle before it vanished into a casual shrug, turning the device over in his fingers. “Besides, all this work is going to pay off.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling back. “Spoken like a true optimist,” I said, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the table. My gaze dropped to the collection of diagrams sprawled across the table, running my finger along the edge of one, tracing the faint lines of my own handwriting. The lines and notes I scribbled earlier now seemed like a distant memory, fogged by storming thoughts, though only a few hours old. 
“It’s surreal, honestly,” I said, my voice quieter, my thoughts getting lost in the papers. “I never imagined I’d find myself back in that ballroom. And certainly not preparing for…this” I gestured loosely to the mess in front of us.
Felix leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as his curiosity got the better of him. “Alright, you’ve got to give me something. If you’ve been going to these galas since you were a kid, I’m sure you’ve got some stories worth sharing. What were they actually like?”
His question pulled another faint smile from me as I leaned back in my chair as well, finally pulling myself from the papers. “Oh, they were something, that’s for sure.” I began, a soft laugh escaping as fragments of those nights began to resurface. “Stuffy, over-the-top, and filled with more egos in one room than you’d think was possible. But for a kid… it was kind of like the feeling of sneaking into a movie you weren’t supposed to see, and just trying to keep yourself out of trouble while still being entertained.”
“Trouble? At a mafia gala? Nooo. No such thing.” He chimed in sarcastically.
“Exactly!” I giggled, a specific memory now coming to the front of my mind. “There was this one time–I must’ve been like ten or eleven– I decided to sneak into the kitchen. Thought maybe I could snag some dessert or something before they were brought out, right? But on my way back, I knocked into one of the tables. This entire tray of creme brulee went flying, right onto one of the guests.” Felix burst out laughing, nearly dropping the earpiece.
I grinned, leaning forward on the table toward him. “And the best part? The guest was this old associate of my dad’s. He had just given this long, drawn-out speech about elegance and composure. Next thing you know, he’s covered in custard.” A small laugh escaped me at the memory. “I thought my dad was going to kill me. But instead, he and Tiger couldn’t stop laughing. They were practically in tears.”
Felix shook his head, still laughing. “That’s incredible. And here I was thinking these galas were all dark, mysterious business.”
My smile lingered for just a second before fading, my gaze dropping back to the diagrams in front of me. The mention of Tiger’s name had come out so naturally, slipping past my lips before I even realized it. The memory was bittersweet, one of the few that still felt untainted. But now, knowing this new information, the thought of Tiger laughing beside my dad, the two of them inseparable, felt like an open wound. The weight of that realization pressed against my chest, and I swallowed hard, willing it away.
“They are, mostly,” I shrugged, trying to shake off the overwhelming feeling of dread that was trying to overtake me. “But there were always moments like that, little things that made it bearable. Another time, I locked one of my dad’s associates in the coat closet because he was being a creep. No one found him for hours.”
Felix blinked, his lips twitching as he tried, and failed, to hold back another laugh. “You locked a grown man in a closet? How did you manage that?”
“He deserved it! He wouldn’t stop making these slimy comments to one of the servers. So, I led him over to the coat closet and told him my dad wanted to speak with him in private.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it now. “The second he stepped inside, I slammed the door and slid the lock. Didn’t think it would take until the end of the night for anyone to find him, though.”
Felix was howling now, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with one hand. “I can’t believe you pulled that off! What did your dad say when he found out?”
I smirked, leaning back in my chair as well. “He didn’t find out until after the guy was let out. By then, everyone just assumed he’d accidentally locked himself in there. My dad thought it was hilarious when I finally told him. My mom, not so much.”
Felix shook his head, his laughter tapering off into a wide grin. “You’re a legend. Wish I had known you back then.”
“That definitely would have been nice,” I said, my smile softening. “Would have been so much nicer having you around instead of being stuck with all those stuck-up adults.”
Felix nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “Makes sense. I can’t imagine what it was like being around all those people and all those expectations at that age.”
I shrugged, my finger idly tapping the armrest of my seat. “It was what it was. You learn how to navigate it eventually. But looking back, it’s strange to think about how different my life was then compared to now.”
Felix’s gaze lingered on me for a moment before he spoke again. “Well, if you’re bringing that same creative problem-solving to this, I think we’re in good hands.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Creative problem solving? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
He grinned. “Hey, if it works, it works.” 
Before I could respond, he reached forward, picking up the earpiece he’d been tinkering with and gave it a small wiggle, silently motioning for me to come closer. “Now, let’s see how this fits,” he said, his tone light but now focused.
I rolled my eyes, though the grin stayed. “Hopefully, we won’t need any tricks this time around.” Scooting my chair closer, I tilted my head slightly, giving him better access as he leaned in to carefully position the device in my ear. I sat still, trying not to flinch as his fingers worked with precise care, his expression now completely serious as he adjusted the earpiece to fit snugly.
The distant creak of the front door opening pulled my attention away from Felix’s tinkering. My gaze shifted toward the archway, watching as Hyunjin and Jeongin came into view, dropping their gear onto the kitchen island with matching expressions of frustration.
“Hey! How’d it go?” I called out, still trying to keep myself from moving and disrupting Felix’s work. 
Hyunjin startled slightly at the sound of my voice, shooting me a brief, wide-eyed glance before recovering and making his way toward the dining room. He leaned casually against the archway, arms crossed, and let out a long, exasperated sigh.
“We managed to place two of the three cameras,” he began, his voice tinged with annoyance. “But Jiho was hanging around too much toward the end. We couldn’t get the last one up without making it obvious.”
Jeongin strolled up behind him a moment later, sipping from a glass of water. He glanced over at Felix, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “How’s the tech coming along? Everything working like it should?”
Felix finally sat back, his brows furrowed in concentration. His fingers lingered under my chin as he tilted my head slightly, scrutinizing the earpiece with the intensity of a jeweler examining a rare gem.
“I think I’ve got it this time,” he said, his voice low but tinged with satisfaction. A glint of pride flickered in his eyes as he turned my ear toward the two of them. “Check it out. You can hardly even see it.”
Hyunjin and Jeongin both leaned in, squinting to get a better look. 
“Wow,” Hyunjin muttered, clearly impressed. “It’s practically invisible. Seriously, that’s impressive.”
Jeongin nodded in agreement. “Nice work, Felix. Let’s just hope it performs as good as it looks.”
Felix gave Jeongin a subtle side-eye, pulled the earpiece out carefully, and set it on the table. “Of course they’ll perform well, do you doubt me or something?” He effortlessly slid into a sales pitch, focus pinned on Jeongin. “These babies are the real deal. Stronger signal, longer range, and is almost impossible to spot unless you’re really looking for it. They’re smaller, but they still pack a punch.”
“Which of the cameras were you able to get?” I interjected, pulling attention away from Felix, and now his side-eye was directed at me, displeased with my interruption. 
“We managed to place the one for the ballroom, and one in the main hallway.” Jeongin pulled a seat out, sitting directly across from Felix and lounging back with his hands in his lap. 
His gaze floated to me, head tilting slightly. “By the way, is the ‘No Weapons’ policy something your father used to do?”
I blinked in surprise, my brows furrowing. “Wait… Does Jiho actually want to enforce that?”
Hyunjin nodded from his spot by the archway, his eyes still on Felix, who was busy adjusting the other earpieces. “Yeah, he mentioned it pretty casually. Said it was something your dad did at every gala, and he wants to keep the tradition going.”
I huffed, crossing my arms as I leaned back in my chair. “Of all the ‘traditions,’ that’s the one he wants to keep? I was hoping he’d conveniently forget about that rule.”
“When we were younger, Jiho used to joke about how ridiculous it was. It was all on an honor system.” I continued, voice a little distant as I recalled the conversations with my brother. “He said the whole thing was crawling with mafia members anyway. If someone wanted to sneak in a weapon, they would. No rule would stop them. And now, look at us,” I added with a wry smile. “I guess we’re just going to be proof of that.”
Hyunjin smirked faintly. “Guess it’s a full-circle moment for him, huh?”
Jeongin chuckled, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “Yeah, I’m sure enforcing that rule will go over great with a room full of people who make their own rules for a living.”
Felix carefully handled the earpieces, placing each into small boxes, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Hey, at least it makes our jobs a little easier. If everyone’s supposed to be unarmed, we’ll at least have the upper hand.”
I gave him a pointed look, my tone tinged with dry humor. “That’s assuming everyone actually follows the rules. Which, let’s be real, they probably won’t.”
Hyunjin sighed. “Still, it’s good to know what we’re walking into. Even if it’s going to be a headache.”
I nodded, my expression softening slightly. “Speaking of which, you two should probably update Chan. He’ll want to know about the cameras and whatever Jiho’s trying to accomplish with this ‘No Weapons’ policy.”
Hyunjin straightened from his position against the archway, pushing off with an exaggerated sigh. “Right.”
Jeongin downed the rest of his water in one quick gulp, standing and stretching his arms above his head. “Guess we should go make his night a little more complicated.”
Felix glanced up again, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Don’t forget to make it sound like you guys worked extra hard today.”
Jeongin shot him a playful glare. “What do you think we’ve been doing this whole time?”
Hyunjin shook his head, already heading back toward the kitchen. “Come on, Innie. Let’s go make Boss proud–or more stressed. One of the two.”
I watched as the two disappeared from view, the sound of their footsteps fading as they ascended the stairs. Felix’s chuckle broke the moment, and I turned back to him, starting to pack up everything he had been working on.
“Those little earpieces turned out better than I expected,” I commented, shaking my head with an impressed grin as I gathered my papers into a neat stack.
Felix dramatically huffed with irritation. “Seriously, does no one in this house have faith in me?”
I rolled my eyes with a smile, picking up a stray wire from the table and tossing it into his bag with a wink. “Apologies Tinker Bell for doubting your fairy gadget magic.”
We moved to the kitchen, Felix wasting no time dipping his head into the fridge in search of a late-night snack.
“After we make it through this gala, do you think we can pester Chan to give us all a vacation?” I asked with a chuckle, leaning against the counter.
Felix laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll get a whole five minutes to look at pictures of beaches on Pinterest before someone else needs us to fix their problem for them.” He surfaced with a container of leftovers, holding it up triumphantly before setting it on the counter.
I smirked, crossing my arms. “At least let me hold onto the dream for a little while longer.”
Felix opened the container and grabbed a fork, his grin teasing. “Dream big, then. Maybe we’ll get a whole day off.”
Before I could respond, Jisung’s voice echoed down the hall, distant but unmistakable. “Hey! You guys still down there?” He called out, his tone full of energy despite the late hour. 
Felix and I exchanged an amused glance, our lighthearted moment briefly interrupted but not unwelcome. 
“Yeah, we’re in the kitchen!” I called back, leaning against the counter as we waited. A moment later, Jisung’s head peeked out from the hall, his grin as wide as ever.
“I asked Minho to pick me up a suit today, you wanna see?” He asked, his voice laced with excitement.
Felix and I both nodded eagerly, curiosity piqued. “Of course,” Felix encouraged, setting his fork down.
Jisung stepped out into full view, and my jaw immediately dropped. The suit was impeccably tailored. Rich, black fabric hugged his form with precision, highlighting his shoulders and tapered waist. Every seam perfectly stitched, contouring along his chest and down his arms to emphasize his lean strength. The jacket tapered neatly at the waist, where a sleek belt cinched it just right, accentuating his trim silhouette. Even the way the fabric caught the light made the entire look feel effortlessly sophisticated.
“Wow,” I breathed, blinking in surprise. “Jisung, you clean up way too well.”
“Damn, Ji!” Felix beamed, letting out a slight whistle. “It looks fantastic!”
“Wait a second,” my head tilted, smile slightly fading as I realized the absence of something that had been all too prevalent lately. “No crutches? Did Seungmin give you the all-clear?”
Jisung’s grin widened, practically lighting up the room with his excitement. “No, but this is the best part! Look what Minho found for me!” He stepped out from the corner where he’d been hiding something, revealing a cane that he brandished with dramatic flair. The tip gleamed in polished gold, transitioning into a sleek matte black shaft. But the handle stole the show, a golden sculpture perched proudly at the top appearing to depict a squirrel mid-leap.
“I can’t be walking into a gala on crutches!” He declared, practically bouncing with energy. “So he found me this sick ass cane!”
His pride in his voice was undeniable, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how perfectly the cane suited him—quirky, bold, and a little over-the-top in the best way possible. 
“You look absolutely amazing, Ji” I beamed, basking in his enthusiasm. It gave me a tiny sliver of hope that I, too, could feel this confident in whatever ensemble I decided on for the gala.
I watched as he acted out the level of sophistication that came with the cane, posing himself in different ways as though he was planted in front of a camera. He was absolutely glowing, his joy fitting him just as well as the suit. 
Felix glanced down at his own clothes, brushing off invisible dust with a sigh. “I still need to try mine on now that it’s back from the tailor. It came this morning, but I haven’t had a second to see if it actually fits.”
Jisung’s eyes lit up. “Dude, let’s go! I wanna see!” His energy was contagious, and he was practically bouncing on his good leg, eager to head upstairs.
Felix chuckled and shook his head, already giving in. “Alright, alright. Let’s go see how much better I look in mine than you do in yours.” 
The two of them turned to me, clearly expecting me to follow. I shook my head, offering a small smile and nod out to the deck. “I think I’ll pass. I could use some fresh air before bed, clear my head a little. You guys have fun.”
Felix hesitated for just a second, his eyes lingering as if he wanted to say something, but Jisung was already tugging at his arm.
Felix’s lips quirked into a soft smile. “Goodnight, don’t stay up too late.” he said quietly before Jisung whisked him toward the staircase, their footsteps fading along with the faint click of Jisung’s cane.
I let out a long, steady breath once the house fell silent, the quiet settling around me. After a moment’s hesitation, I moved to the liquor cabinet, scanning the options before settling on a bottle and pouring myself a drink. Glass and bottle in hand, I headed outside to the deck, retreating into the cool night air and letting the stillness wash over me. The stars overhead sparkled faintly, and the soft sound of crickets in the distance made the weight of the day finally feel a little lighter.
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Next Chapter
Taglist: @leagreenly @jamlessstars @moonlight-the-writer @ishz @minbinboo @felixslostfreckle @caillout24 @linocz @stayceebs97 @trinityceleste8 @_yhtwdr @lefay-ette @hrskt @kayleefriedchicken @generousnachofox @avathebuttercup@bubbly-moon
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snakeunderyourboot · 5 months ago
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Y'ALL I FINALLY FIGURED OUT JOHN DESIGN!!!! (<- lying. Will probably change it the next time I will draw him) ANYWAYS, I have thoughts about the choices I made with his design, so for rumbling, open up the cut. There are some additional doodles
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So, I am a huge fan of "John changes design through the podcast", so here is a quick sketch of what each phase is, along with my additional thoughts) S1 (pre-episode 5) - John, who is still an Entity for now - a literal piece torn from KiY, with only eyes. Hides in Arthur's shadow
S1(post-episode 5) - John Doe, who is more aware of himself now and picked up a clock. It still less tangible form, more of a placeholder rather than something that he can call himself. Still hides in Arthur's shadow, but is now more proactive, in a way
S2 - John Doe, who is now aware that he is KiY and with that his reflection of himself changes. His cloak is bigger and he stands proudly behind Arthur. The way the cloak lays on the ground, it reminds of tentacles. While saying that he is no longer a KiY, some pieces still cling to him, now that he truly knows his nature.
S3-5 - John Doe, who is entirelly his own. Here it's becoming comlicated
The hood was taken by King in Yellow in episode 20, revealing how much John changed. He is no longer a piece, he is completely his own and King cannot fit him back.
The small crown appeared after S4 finale - he is now a true king of the Earth dimension, no longer fighting for control with Yellow. The crown is also something he renounces from his time in the Darkworld(and his kingdom there)
Clothes that were inspired by Arthur. I chose green colors because I remember one of the first posts I found on malevtumbler was a post about green being John's favorite color. I thought it was a really cool idea, so green clothes for John!
Small fireflies around John! This was something I took from my wip animatic of the last 10 minutes of episode 43. They appear after John comes back from Darkworld in S3, they don't produce any source of light but they act as an extension of John! They mostly just float around, but in S4 finale they come together to create a halo behind John's manifestation. In a way, they are remnants of what little of KiY power John has.
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this is a really old wip, so there is a older version design of John that I had in mind, but the way Fireflights behave is still the same.
Some other additional thoughts I have
While I love John's creature designs, I also can't stop thinking about him taking things from Arthur. He took so much and Arthur kept giving more. In a way, his more humanoid form is a result of this exchange.
I am basing my Arthur design on my own cosplay that I did last year! With the exception of glasses and more curly hair. I didn't posted the cosplay here, but you can find it on Malevolent Cast twitter back somewhere in may.
My Hastur design is also more humanoid because I really love this idea of gods and mortals being essentially the same. Before separation, Hastur is a huge, abstract, creature-like god, but after separation, he is changed. And for a being who existed for billions of years, the mere idea of change is fucking terrifying. So along with John's changes, Hastur changes too, becoming similar to those he used to see as mere ants. Isn't that fun for him!
Yellow in S3 is basically John's design from S2, but with a little bit colder yellow color. In S4 he is back to his Hastur design BUT afterward, I have a small hc in my mind(and possibly au, comic to which you may never see, but regardless) that after the events of S4, Yellow managed to ditch Larson and now is restoring Carcosa AND along the way changing into this new version of Hastur. I even thought about giving him a new name, but I will keep it a secret for now. Here is a comparison of Yellow and John's designs
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In the early mentioned AU, that happens post-canon, John design is also different, BUUUT that's spoilers and I do really wish to show more of this au. For now take those incoherent thoughts.
Thank you fro your attention <3
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bokutooooo · 2 years ago
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Dream Ride PT- 2 ᰔᩚ
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The annoying sounds of my alarm clock going off waking me up almost instantly and I can already feel my head pounding. Last night I ended up going to one of Han's infamous parties and let's just say it was fun. "Morning Cassidy, how'd you sleep?" Cassidy was my aunt, one of the main reasons I came to Japan after mom threw me out. "it was fine, woke up a couple of times but nothing to bad. How's Neela? you girls have fun? being careful I hope". I grab a box of cereal and a bowl "It was fun I mean just regular car stuff.. Neela likes my car so that's good" I laugh thinking about how Neela kept asking me to let her drive it. "I'm glad, just make sure you guys are being careful and staying out of trouble" I give her a nod walking towards the small couch. I haven't really told her anything about Han I don't think she'll like it, which means I probably shouldn't be getting involved with him but can you blame me? his shoulder length jet black hair, his little smile and I mean have you seen the 1997 Mazda RX-7 it's almost to nice. "Hey? you going to start getting ready? Don't want you getting yelled at again."
"Hey Neela whatcha doing?" I say as I'm walking into class. "Nothing too exciting just sketching something knew, you think I should get a Toyota Supra? I mean how cute would that be." I lightly laugh "I think you should get whatever you like, you have the time and money right? so do it." she gives me a small smile and continues sketching away.
I sat down as our professor walked in, all I could ever think about was cars, friends and.. well Han. I know it's stupid, thinking about a guy who pays me little to no attention but I can't stop. My grades were going down, I was starting to care less and stop trying but If I don't start picking them back up my aunt will notice and question me than I would have to tell her something. "Hey! let's go times up" I look up and Neela's waiting for me "class is over? already?" I swear class just started "Yeah??? let's go weirdo."
Me and Neela were out shopping "What about this one? it's cuteee, c'monnnn look at the lace lining" I look up from my phone. She was buying a new skirt.. yet all the ones she's tried on were kind of.. ugly? "No." I look back down "whatever!" she aggressively shuts the the curtains of the change room. "How's Hanny booooo have you texted him? "Why would I be texting him?" she pops her head out "because you like love him? and you always want to talk to him."
"Well I haven't talked to him since the party so." It's true I do love finding an excuse to talk to him but I guess I'm starting to realize that we have like no chance together. "What's up? you suddenly stopped liking him?" "No it's just- It's not going to happen. Like ever, so I'm going to stop being a fangirl and find someone else. Plus Cassidy would ever approve and I won't let her down."
"Oh come on! you guys like.. love each other!! maybe thats to quick.. but! you guys love talking to one another and love hanging out, so who cares what others think? Cassidy you'll talk to when it happens, don't worry about before it even happens."
Neela had a point but I'm not even sure I was ready, I don't even know how Han feels.
Once Neela found an outfit she liked we went to go eat. "Hey Neela I'm gonna go grab something from Starbucks want something?" "mmm.. sure! just an iced coffee please."
"Hey Neela got your ice-" I paused, DK and Morimoto sat on either side of her. "Oh hey DK what are you doing here?" "Just came for something to do, ran into you two." Neela looked a bit uncomfortable, DK practically breathing on her and Morimoto right on the other side "Me and Neela were just about to leave but we'll probably see you guys tonight." "Yeah sorry guys see you later!"
Tonight was one of the biggest Drift events of the year. It would be packed, cars in every spot, people everywhere, music blasting and food. That's why me and Neela went shopping, had to look extra good tonight. "Why was DK like breathing down you're neck? he's pretty clingy for someone your not dating" "I know but we've been best friends for agesss, kind of hard to just stop you know?"
"Eeee! look at it! so cute!!" I was admiring my self In the full body mirror. I had white leg warmers with pompoms on them, and light pink tank top with a dark pink outline and a white headband. "look at you cutie!" "never mind meee look at you beautiful" Neela had on a short denim skirt, black military boots with a heel and half up half down hairstyle with a bow. "ready to go? we should try to get there before it gets to packed, gonna need to park somewhere."
Hope you enjoyed this part!>
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charliedawn · 2 years ago
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What if the slashers kept a journal ?
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Bo was taking care of one of the employees' car—which had a flat tire—when you decided it was the perfect time to do a round check of all the bedrooms. All of the slashers had to keep a journal and you thought it would be alright to just give it a quick look to see their progress.
However, Bo's journal seemed very well hidden and then, you found out that his desk was slightly off-centred. It was by palming haphazardly the underneath of his desk that you found the journal—hidden inside a secret compartment he had surely crafted himself.
"You clever clock.", you whistled admiratively with a proud smile. You then opened it and frowned as you noticed that the first page was blank...and the second...and the third. Why was it empty ?!
"Can I help ya ?"
You were surprised to hear Bo's voice behind you and quickly turned around. He eyed the journal in your hands and looked up at you before blinking several times. He seemed to catch up quickly on what you were doing by how guilty you looked.
"Anythin' interesting in there, nurse?"
However, instead of replying, you threw the journal on the bed scurried off of the room as quickly as you had entered it. As soon as the door was locked, he smiled and walked to his desk. He checked that his real journal was still there—hidden underneath some mechanical engineering book—and smiled when he realized it was...
He chuckled knowingly.
"Noisy lil' darlin'."
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In Vincent's journal, there were merely animal pics and various unreadable scribbles. You couldn't possibly read the things written, so you focused on the photographs and smiled at the various subjects...until you arrived to the last days' entries. Now, you knew Vincent to be easily obsessed. He had once followed a bird for hours—only to draw a sketch of it. However, you had never seen him get obsessed over an actual human being—until today.
There were only photographs of you.
You. Eating.
You. Talking.
You...Sleeping.
Oh...You blushed and promptly closed the journal before hiding it back underneath his pillow. However, when you turned around—you fell face to face with Vincent.
He looked successively between you and his pillow and finally, it clicked. He tried stop say something—but by then, you were already gone. You had snuck past him. He stood still for a second or two before re-opening the diary. He gently stroke the last photograph he had taken of you—smiling at him.
It was his best one yet...
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Sex jokes. So many sex jokes. You thought that man would take the time to write profound meaningful things ? Ah ! Joke's on you.
However, he smiled when he saw you reading his diary. He stayed there for a moment before creeping his way in and surprising you by suddenly pulling your head back.
"Haven't you heard the expression curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart ?", he asked with a threatening grin and you shrugged.
"Haven't you heard bastards usually get cooked ?", you shot back.
At this point, you didn't give a toss that he had caught you—with the amount of garbage you had read. His whole brain needed to be purged in holy water.
"It doesn't make any sense.", he snarled and you offered him a sweet smile before taking a lighter on the table.
"Yes. It means let me go, Krueger...before I burn you somewhere that REALLY hurts.", you his in-between meaningfully—but it didn't seen to be efficient. It only spurred him on as he closed the door with his foot.
"Hmm...Nah. Don't think I will."
No need to say...Freddy got more than one additional burn that day.
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Brahms was so discreet—you didn't notice when he approached you from behind. He glanced at what page you were on and realized it was a part when he described you.
Curious. Nice. Beautiful...
You smiled at the compliments, but realized that he had missed the point of the exercise. It was to focus on himself and reach deep. However, Brahms didn't like people reading his secrets.
His chest heaved heavily and in a matter of seconds, your back was against the door and he had removed his mask. You wanted to read all about his secrets ? He would make you sing yours.
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Jason mostly wrote random words he learned. He couldn't make full sentences yet—but he mostly tried to write words and various emotions or actions of the day.
Cutting. Eating. Cooking.
He didn't like making sentences—so he usually only writes down random words. He described people he met, places he went to and his feelings.
You smiled.
He might be the only one who had listened to you and tried to fill their journal with what they felt. You flipped quickly through the different entries until you reached the final one. You were then pleasantly surprised by finding a few sentences. But that pleasant feeling quickly disappeared when you read.
'Hello, mommy. I have friends now. I think you would like them. And I...I met someone. I think you'd like them too. They like us. They take care of us. I miss you. But I...I think I'll be alright.'
You let out a few tears as you imagined Jason writing those words. He had learned so much and you weren't afraid to say that you were proud of him. And you were sure his mother would be too if she could see him.
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Michael could smell you. He knew you had been in his room and every single thing you touched. The scent lingered on his diary and on one page in particular—one he didn't think was that important.
It was a photograph. A photograph of all the slashers reunited on Christmas. It was also the only day Carrie and Sadako were allowed in the facility.
Jason had taken that photograph before giving it to Michael as a present. He is completely forgotten about it, but smiled faintly at the realization that you had chosen this page in particular made it special.
He sighed before sitting on his bed and closing the journal. He looked out at the garden where you were helping Freddy with the bad weed.
You looked so...perfect. And that made you precious in Michael's mind—but also dangerous. He had this urge to protect you clashing with the need to kill you. It was exhausting to keep that last urge at bay, and he was afraid of what he might do if you were to ever know about his feelings...But, he wasn't worried.
You would never feel the same...right ?
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Jack writes down everything—and I mean everything. He can fill an entire book about his day. He also has a big memory and can remember the tiniest of details.
That was the reason why you had decided to read his entries—in case he would have written something you had missed.
What you found inside made your eyes widen.
He had studied them all. And it wasn't just moments. It was fully-detailed portraits. Physical. Mental. Psychological...He had recorded ever trait, every change...And not only about the slashers or the other patients.
But the staff as well. And of course, you. You learnt that he had memorized everything to you taste of cake and the type of clothes you wore for every occasion. It was impressive—but also rather worrying.
"Well well...Wasn't expecting any visitors."
You turned around swiftly add found him standing there with a smug look on his face. He didn't seem to mind you reading his journal. He simply tilted his head with a knowing smirk and you let the journal fall to the floor before slowly backing away.
"I was just..." His eyes didn't leave yours before he stepped out of the way.
"Here you go, nurse. You can go."
You eyed the door suspiciously. Could you...really ? But, you didn't want to stay and ask—so you walked out. Jack's eyes followed you until you were out of view before smiling and picking his journal back up.
New entry: Nurse Y/N doesn't seem to be very happy about being the studied subject for once...
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Pennywise hadn't written anything. You were partly disappointed, but not that surprised. Pennywise didn't like sharing—and that was even with himself. He was complicated and he refused to acknowledge his own feelings.
But, that was okay.
You closed the diary and looked at Pennywise who was sitting in his favorite rocking chair and was staring ahead at things you couldn't fathom.
Maybe were there ghosts of his past ? You didn't know. Maybe would he open up some day. But, you'd wait until then.
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They ran. They all ran. And I chased after them. Their little hearts pounded loudly in their chests as I trapped them. Their wide eyes fixed on me.
You had mainly a lot of notes on his time when he had to face the Losers' club. Penny was oddly specific on the gore details of his past kills. But, you needed to understand him—so you digged dipper.
You read everything—everything until you found something truly important.
I'm losing my memory...Pennywise says it's normal. But, I can't even remember who I was before. What was my name ? I think I was a clown...But, I don't know anymore. I think I had a daughter. But, I don't remember her name.
Penny was...losing his memory ? You looked up and saw him playing with the other younger slashers in the garden. He was smiling and carelessly chasing after them. But, what if...there was more to him than you had initially thought ?
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Ghostface had refused to show his face to anyone. You had simply wanted to get to know him better. You knew that searching though his personal entries for answers wasn't really nurse-worthy...But, he refused to open up. However, before you could read as much as a few words—he had grabbed the diary from your hands and pressed his knife against your throat.
"Now now...nursy. Spying ? That's not very ethical of you.", he teased and you closed your eyes.
He seemed pissed by the way his voice became slightly more high-pitched and you knew that you should be afraid—but something else crossed your mind.
"What is you favorite scary movie ?", you muttered and Ghostface tilted his head quizzically.
"...What ?"
You slowly turned around to face him fully and he didn't stop you.
"That is the question you ask to all the patients. The question you always ask to everyone you meet. Are you...", you looked up—even though you couldn't really judge his reaction. "...searching for someone ?"
Ghostface stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before clenching his fists.
"Leave. Now.", he uttered in a quiet whisper and you didn't dare defy him—as you knew by the way he had suddenly tensed up that you weren't welcome anymore.
The moment you were out, he slammed the door and locked the door before removing his mask and throwing it to the ground angrily. He was was conflicted. He was ashamed that you had succeeded in seeing right through him so quickly. And, he couldn't tell you—not yet. He opened his diary and sighed. He couldn't tell you that the answer he was searching for was Psychose. 1960. His father's favorite scary movie.
It was the only information he had—that and that he was a patient in St Louis. He looked up at the ceiling and suddenly threw the diary in the fire heating up the room.
No one would know. He wouldn't risk it.
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