#truly though it caught me so off guard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 3 months ago

Text

HOT TO GO!

18+ / mdi

summary: moving into a quiet apartment complex you expected to find nothing but solace, not your most entertaining situationship to date OR the three times you kept it casual with your new neighbor vs the one time he made things serious.

content: neighbor!jungkook, strangers2lovers, situationship (kind of), fwb, jk's a lil bit of a himbo in this fic, afab reader, smut, three smut scenes lol, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, etc.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: this is honestly just a silly and unserious fic that's mostly smut lol i hope u guys enjoy it<3

masterlist | patreon

"Oh, wow, uh, hey."

"Hi?", you looked at the stranger in curiosity, though still very shocked by the adonis of a man who had suddenly knocked on your door.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if rebuffing himself to speak again, "Fuck, okay, that was such an uncool first impression. What I meant to say was 'Welcome to the neighborhood,' but you just caught me off guard. Sorry."

"I caught you off guard? You're the one who knocked on my door."

"Yeah, not gonna elaborate on that," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand, "Hi, I'm Jungkook, your neighbor," he introduced himself.

You chuckled in return, letting his ambiguity slide as you briefly shook his hand, providing him with your name, "Hi, Jungkook. I'm new here, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, yeah, you can really tell the difference between you and the old lady who used to live here. She was- wait, fuck. Did she-"

"No, Jungkook, she's not dead. The landlord told me she just moved into some retirement home," you clarified.

"Thank god," the boy sighed in relief, "Me and Mrs. Louis go way back. She used to bake me cookies on Sundays."

"Oh really? Well, you won't be getting any cookies from me. Sorry," you joked.

Cocking his head to the side, he lifted his eyebrows, "We'll see about that."

"What does that even mean?"

"I can be very convincing."

Was he flirting? Through a cookie euphemism?

"Are you-"

"Anyways, if you need any help with moving in, let me know. Maybe coming over to help build some furniture?", he suggested, "I like to be on a friendly standing with all my neighbors," he smiled as he disregarded his prior flirting, almost as if it had never happened.

"I'm your only neighbor. There's only two apartments per floor," you recalled, still amused by his oddity.

"Exactly," he winked, and with that, he turned to leave, heading back to his own apartment, "See you around."

It was through that very short interaction that you first met your neighbor, Jungkook. Despite how odd he had seemed, he carried a charm that intrigued you (though his pretty appearance also drew you in).

Closing your door, you went back to what you had been doing previously, a smile of disbelief on your face as you tried to come up with some believable reason to scout him for help – as he had offered – just to see him again.

Unfortunately, most of your stuff had not arrived yet, so you truly had nothing you could possibly use as an excuse to get him to come into your apartment so soon. It was nice, though, to know that your new neighbor was as friendly as he was (and as attractive, might you add).

"Hey, neighbor."

"Oh, hi, Jungkook. Did I forget to tell you my name last time?", you wondered why he'd omit your name, unless you had been too distracted last time staring at him to remember.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a day later at the apartment complex's laundry room located at the basement of the building. From what you'd seen the few times you'd walked by it on your way to the elevator, no one really seemed to use it. No one except Jungkook, apparently. You'd also come to find out that this apartment complex seemed to be occupied by mostly elderly people, with you and Jungkook being some of the few exceptions.

Eyeing you up and down in a not very discreet way, his eyes landed back on your face before responding, "No, just got distracted, sorry," he chuckled similarly to how he'd done last time.

This was the second time you'd seemingly caught him off guard, but you weren't complaining. The thought of your presence taking him out of focus gave you a slight boost in confidence, especially considering how attractive he was.

You eyed him curiously, noticing he had no laundry with him nor was he using either of the four washing machines located in the room. As soon as he came in, he took a seat on top of the washing machine next to the one you were currently putting your clothes into. When you smiled at him questioningly, he had no reaction, simply smiling back.

"What are you doing?", you asked whilst continuing your prior task, almost paying no mind to him.

"Just hanging out," he responded simply, swinging his feet back and forth as they hovered due to the stature of the washing machine he was currently sitting on.

"What, with me?"

"Yup. Just trying to be neighborly, is all. Shouldn't be down here all alone," he reasoned, "Can I help you? I love doing laundry."

You scoffed at that, "Really? You love doing laundry? Also, I don't need a bodyguard," you hadn't taken offense to his comment, but you'd found it somewhat amusing. He clearly just wanted to spend time with you, which admittedly made you feel slightly bashful. However, there was no harm in making him work for it a little more.

With a huff, he got off the washing machine and leaned down to help you organize your laundry, dividing it between colors, "I'm known as somewhat of a laundry fairy", he nodded seriously.

"Oh, so you do other people's laundry, then?"

"Yep," he nodded, "It's a whole profession. I part-time as bodyguard too," he joked, continuing to shuffle through your clothes.

"The perfect man," you retorted back, sarcasm in your tone.

"Exactly. You could make really good use of me," he winked, finishing up his pile of clothes and moving onto yours, beginning to place them inside the washing machine.

"Are you asking me to use you?", you braved it and flirted back, turning to look up at him.

The air in the room was comfortable, yet it now had a hint of something more. What it was, you weren't sure. Although Jungkook had hinted at being attracted to you when you first met a day prior, you'd never had a flirtation move so quickly. It usually took a bit more conversation before getting to the more suggestive comments, but the pleased look on his face as he looked down at you made you too excited to backtrack.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to get that. Was my self-invite to your apartment yesterday not hint enough?", he followed along, putting down the article of clothing he had in his hands to take a small step towards you, now leaving a very small distance between you.

"Oh? Was that what that was? I think I'm gonna need you to be a bit more specific. Spell it out for me, maybe?", you tilted your head to the side teasingly, almost as if daring him.

"Aw," he placed his hand on his chest, as if hurt, "That's my bad, pretty. I'll be a little more forward from now on, okay?", he coo'd, leaning down and letting his nose nudge against your own lightly.

"So, are you? Or are you all talk?", you dared him, tilting your face upwards, almost meeting his lips.

With a muted grumble, he closed the gap, pulling you towards him with a pull from your waist. Humming against your lips, he pressed you up against him, practically molding you to him as he allowed the kiss to become heated. The air in the room became even heavier somehow, causing you to mute any outside forces that could possibly take you away from a constant chorus of Jungkook playing in your head.

The kiss had no time for hesitance or shy meetings of lips as it instantly occupied the otherwise silent room with wet sounds of tongues intertwining and almost inaudible moans shared between lips. The harsh surface of the washing machine behind you almost felt like nothing as Jungkook's lips continued to distract you while his arms lifted you to sit on it. Legs opening, you welcomed him to stand between them, pulling him in my his shirt to ensure not even one second of distance between you was allowed.

Your head tilted back almost on its own accord as his lips trailed down your neck, humming into your skin after every kiss and occasional nibble of skin.

"J-Jungkook ... What if someone sees?", your common sense finally made an appearance, though you made no move to stop him.

"No one uses the laundry room here, it's fine. We have the place to ourselves," he breathed out between kisses, making his way back up to your lips.

With a scarily practiced finesse, his tongue snuck its way into your mouth, easing yours into copying his movements. Your resolve wore down quickly after that, following along with every touch of his on your skin. Despite not being one for casual hookups, it was impossible for you to deny the immediate chemistry you'd had with your neighbor. Who would casual sex with your neighbor going to hurt anyway?

His lips soon took your mind away from any further thought on the manner, trailing down your neck while his hands came up to wander under your tank top, tracing your skin with his calloused fingertips as goosebumps began to form. With soft hands and a rough tongue, Jungkook had your brain emptying at a worrying speed, now becoming a shell of yourself with nothing but Jungkook in mind. Just some kisses and some hand action already had you as putty under him, what a shame.

"Can I take this off?", he murmured against your lips, hands itching under your shirt as it rode up due to his movements.

"Mhm," you conceded, your own hands going under his shirt and feeling up the muscular skin of his back.

With your consent, his hands trailed their way back out from under your shirt, reaching down to help you out of it. Underneath was a tiny piece of fabric you could barely call a bralette, doing a terrible job of hiding the goosebumps on your skin or the hardness of your nipples. His tatted hand went up to toy with a clothed breast, murmuring praise against your cheek as he angled his head to look down at your chest. His eyes trailed to yours, finding them empty of any thought and far too wanting of more of his touch.

"How about this?" he practically whispered, one hand on your breast while the other went to toy at the strap of your bralette that had fallen from your shoulder to the meatier part of your arm, fingering at it softly, almost as if teasing whether or not he'd pull it all the way down or not.

"Yes," you almost whimpered, needing the skin-to-skin touch on your chest. Your back was already arched towards his chest, your body pleading him for more without any further words necessary.

He sighed once the job was done, your chest now fully naked for him and the rest of you almost equally as nude. It was only a tiny pair of shorts with some teeny tiny panties underneath that prevented him from your full nudity. In the meantime, he was still fully clothed. But somehow you didn't mind. His touch on your body was enough to keep you satiated. Surely you'd have your turn to enjoy his own nudity later on.

A groan left him upon hastily removing your shorts, now able to feel the heat coming from between your legs through the offensively thin panties you had on. Dragging you from your thighs, he placed you on the edge of the washing machine as he himself pulled down his pants just enough to leave him with boxers and some beaten up tank top. With a huff, he began intermittently connecting your crotches, bumping his hardness against your heat with a grumble. The art of dry humping might've been lost among many, but you were thanking any higher power that Jungkook was not one of the many to disengage with it.

"You're so warm already," he sighed, face pushing its way to your neck, nosing at your scent, "'n smell so fucking good ..."

Your nails dug to the skin of his shoulders, obsessed with the drag of his cock against you. He was hitting that sensitive, swollen spot that bad you wanting to give him a key to your apartment just so he could come over and do it over and over again.

"So fucking soft n pretty," he mumbled, "God, can't believe I got such a pretty little neighbor all to myself," he rambled on and on, "Gonna make you cum like this, okay, gorgeous? Promise I'll give you more next time, just- fuck ... just caught me off guard again's all ..." all his words were slurred, clearly marking the approximation of an early orgasm. What might've been a turn off for many others had your own high approaching just as fast. A hunk of a man such as Jungkook losing himself to mere dry humping? Sign you up!

"Me too," you almost whined, mouth open as you practically drooled at the feeling of that size and girth, excitement growing within you.

"Yeah? God, so fucking good n perfect," the praise was never ending, greatly aiding your impending orgasm.

With one last groan of your name, Jungkook's hips sped up, now dragging you more harshly into him in desperation for his orgasm. It was only a few moments into his own orgasm that you came too, too stimulated from his extensive play with your chest earlier on and simply too wound up to not find release with someone as attractive as he was.

In other circumstances you would've been embarrassed at how easily your body reacted to his own, but Jungkook seemed just as affected, still panting at the exertion his high had taken from him.

"Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly a few moments later, wide boba eyes staring at you with a shy smile, "I don't usually welcome people to the neighborhood by jumping them like that, hah, I hope I didn't overstep," he needlessly apologized as he helped you clean up with nearby towels and aided you in redressing you and himself.

Giggling at him couldn't be helped — he was far too cute. He was the perfect mixture of cuteness and hotness that it made you frustrated if you thought about it for too long.

"Jungkook, I promise you that was a very appreciated welcome," you laughed as you patted his shoulder reassuringly, stepping down from the washing machine.

"Great," he nodded with a smile, though still a but shy, "Let me help you with your laundry now, then? I won't jump you again, I promise."

"Maybe for next time, then?", you attempted to flirt, high fiving yourself internally when you pulled a shy chuckle out of him.

Next time you saw Jungkook was back in your apartment.

Maybe you should've expected him to be on the other side of that door, specially considering you hadn't met anyone else since moving here, but you also hadn't expected him to be so continuously forward.

Within less than a week of being here, you'd met Jungkook, flirted with him, hooked up in the laundry room and proceeded to wash your clothes with his aid — as it turned out, he really was better than the average person at doing laundry. And now, you were curious as to what the next thing to come would be.

After a few knocks on your door, you resumed drying off your hair and walked over to the door, skin still damp and thin robe wrapped around you. Being almost nude, you decided to be smart and look through the peephole before admitting a stranger into your home. Looking through it, you found the one person you'd hoped to see every time you left the apartment; Jungkook.

Had it been anyone else, maybe you would've bothered to ask him for a few minutes in order to get dressed before attending to the door. However, seeing as Jungkook had already seen you almost fully nude, it seemed dumb to do so. That, plus the fact that you were pretty sure how today's visit would go.

"Hey," he said casually when the door was opened.

Donning yet another tank top, the contour of his muscles could be easily seen as he leaned against the frame of the door. A confident and suave smile was on his lips the moment his eyes did a once-over of your body, clearly taking notice of the singular layer of clothing you had on.

"Huh," he hummed, "You're making this too easy for me," he chuckled, letting himself in when you stepped aside to silently welcome him.

"Hello, Jungkook," you ignored him, closing the door behind him, "Are you here to help me unpack?", you questioned upon seeing him approach the few boxes located in your living room and eyeing their contents curiously.

"Yeah. Figured you were taking too long to invite me over, might as well invite myself," he said distractedly, focus all spent on a bunny figurine he found in your boxes, mumbling a quiet 'cute' to himself.

"Let me get dressed and then we can start," you said, beginning to walk to your room while he sat on the floor, beginning to open some boxed furniture you hadn't even bothered to eye since its arrival.

Already in the other room, you heard Jungkook call over before you could close your door, mentioning something about 'You'll end up undressed anyways, but okay,' causing you to chuckle to yourself.

It only took you a few minutes to moisturize and dress yourself in some comfortable loungewear, able to hear Jungkook's ruckus all the way from your room. Despite his slight awkwardness shining through sometimes, he seemed to be a very confident guy, so it made sense to you that he'd made himself at home almost immediately upon his arrival.

Heading back to your living room, you found him sat comfortably on the floor, boxed materials to build what appeared to be a bookshelf laid in front of him while he eyed a manual. Originally, he had implied that his intention to go visit you had been for another hookup, so it amused you that he had actually taken his own words literally and decided to help you out with your furniture.

As you took a seat next to him, you decided to voice out this thought to him, "Wow, you're actually going to help me unpack?" you asked amusedly, hands reaching out to copy the way in which he assembled some pieces together.

He shrugged, "It's the neighborly thing to do," he reasoned, "Plus, the sooner you're unpacked, the sooner we can do more fun stuff."

Despite it being said so casually, it was more than enough encouragement for you to put your mind to the task, knowing that the unexpected help of your hot neighbor was way better than the alternative of getting all your moving in duties done by yourself.

It took about two hours to get done with most of your unpacking, combined with putting together the few pieces of furniture you had bought and neglected to build. The last of it was found in your bedroom in the form of a few boxes of skincare and clothing you'd been too lazy to unbox, opting to instead use whatever you needed at the time and leaving the rest unpacked. Jungkook tutted at you disappointingly at this, lightheartedly scolding you for not simply organizing your stuff as soon as you moved in and revealing to you how organized he was himself.

"Is there any box you want me to stay away from?", he wondered as he rummaged through one of the various boxes you'd moved onto your bed to organize.

"Nope, what do you mean?", you wondered, pulling out a hair dryer and placing it in its rightful spot before walking back over to the bed.

"Well, for instance ..." he trailed off, pulling out a tiny piece of lace you'd forgotten was in the box labeled as 'clothes' Jungkook was currently going through. He gave you an awkward smirk, his mind seemingly battling between being smug at the thong in his hands and affected by the thought of you wearing such a garment.

Immediately, your eyes widened, a gasp trapped in your throat before you jumped at him to grab at the lace, only for him to pull it back with a laugh, now holding it above your reach. You continued to pull at him, letting out an annoyed 'Jungkook!' to express your annoyance, but still laughing at how childish he was behaving.

He let you take hold of the thong after a few more slaps to his hard chest, laughing at your frustration. To prevent your further attacks, he grabbed onto your wrists, deciding to hold you against him as you let go of the panties and paid mind to him instead. Far too casually, he leaned down and trapped you in a soft kiss, humming against your lips as his hands wrapped around your waist and your own went to his shoulders. You damned him in your mind, chastising yourself for how easily it was for you to become entranced by his touch.

"You knew what was in there, didn't you? Hmm? Seductress," he joked against your lips, though the tone of his voice didn't make you laugh, especially not when it was said in an airy whisper between open mouthed kisses.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pulling him closer, unwilling to let the kiss end.

With masterful expertise, Jungkook managed to lay you down on the space of the bed empty of boxes, hands going under your shirt to trace the soft skin of your back. His lips trailed down to your neck and reaching down to the space of your chest not covered by your tank top, grumbling against your skin.

"You smell so nice," he sighed, "So fucking soft too," he continued, not shy in feeling your skin and even breathing you in.

Tuned with you, he disconnected from you to eye you for permission to remove your shirt, dragging it away from your body after a nod of confirmation from you and proceeding to remove his own. Your hands imitated his own, also feeling up his toned body as you continued to kiss. Now leaning atop you, he ground his crotch against your own, groaning into your lips at the basic pleasure he received from it.

"How far do you wanna go?", he murmured as he ground into you, "I'll do whatever you want. I owe you, remember?", he continued, referring to your encounter at the laundry room where he promised to fuck you properly next time.

"Do whatever you want," you replied, looping your lips again, "Just- fuck, do anything," you practically pleaded.

Chuckling, he nodded, opting to lay you down properly, moving aside any boxes that were in the way so you could lay all the way back while he trailed his way down your body, tugging down the tiny shorts you'd opted for a few hours earlier. You sighed at the realization of what was to come, ashamed to admit you'd been wondering how that piercing would feel between your legs.

"So soft here too," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs distractedly, making his way up to that area between your legs that was calling his name, "Fuck, 'n smell so good," his nose practically pressed up against the very thin layer of cloth separating him from your cunt, shamelessly breathing you in as he dragged his nose to press into your clit before pulling away.

A mute whine was pulled out of you, making your thighs attempt to close without much thought, only to make his arms wrap around your legs and pull them in opposite directions in order to separate them. He took a quick moment to pull your underwear down your legs, immediately going back to wrap around your legs to keep a wide enough space for him to enjoy you.

He began tentatively, almost as if testing out how he would go about having you. It only took some encouraging mewls from you for him to really put his heart into it, diving in as his tongue delved into your cunt, moaning against you. He hummed and groaned into your cunt, especially so whenever your hands would pull at his overgrown mullet, pulling him even closer to you. Taking advantage of his large nose, he nosed at your clit while his tongue played with your cunt. Your mewls and the scratching against his scalp should've been more than enough indicator that he had you at the palm of his hand.

"Baby," he moaned against you, refusing to create any distance between you, "you taste so good, fuck," he cried out, as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. But then again, maybe he was — or at least that's the gist you got from the commotion happening under you as the bed bumped with every movement of Jungkook's hips humping against it.

"K-kook, fuck, right the- oh, fuck ... right there!", you cried when his fingers joined in on the equation, tongue focused on your clit while his fingers curled inside you to perfection.

It was embarrassing how soon you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't blame yourself, not when a 10 was on his knees, whimpering against your cunt and letting endless muffled praise leave his lips while his tongue refused to let out. You lost control of yourself at some point, unashamed in the way you pushed his face against you, closing your thighs around his head and ground into his face. This only caused a high pitched whine to leave Jungkook, following your silent instruction for more and giving in to you twice as hard.

"Cum, baby. Wanna taste, fuck, please," he pleaded, looking up at you for a quick moment, making your brain leave you entirely at the pretty eyes he was making up at you, practically begging for your orgasm to come.

If you were boneless and defeated before, you were more so now, losing yourself to your orgasm as the pretty boy continued to lick and suck at your release, humming as if he had just been provided the most satiating meal. The humping of his hips never stopped either, only accelerating upon your high and only halting when you'd gone down from it, insisting on pulling him up the bed to claim his lips, wanting to enjoy them while the arousal was still fresh on him.

"God, fuck, you're nasty," he chuckled breathlessly when your tongue quite literally attacked his mouth, insistent on tasting yourself on his lips. This was clearly not a complaint, but more like a happy realization, as Jungkook practically reached down your throat as he tongued at your mouth, providing you with your own taste and moaning endlessly as he did so.

"Did you cum?", you asked between kisses, eyebrows pinched with worry that you wouldn't get to play with him this time around either.

He chuckled, a bit embarrassed, "No, pretty. Almost, though. I can just finish myself off if you're tired or-"

"No!" you interrupted, not shy in reaching down to his still clothed cock, feeling the length through his clothed ad he shuddered, "Let me suck you off? Fair trade, right?", you suggested, wanting nothing more than that size inside you one way or another.

"Oh, you sure? I don't want to force you or anything-"

You interrupted again, gesturing at him to flip you over so he could be under you this time around, "No, Kook. Please? I really want it. Can I have it?", you decided to be a bit mean, playing up the begging under the assumption that a guy like Jungkook would probably enjoy it.

You were right.

"O-oh, okay, beautiful," he rasped, hands in a frenzy to undo his sweats so he could give you access to his dick, "Just, fuck, give me a second. I don't wanna cum right away," he blushed, giving you a sweet peck before leading you to your knees while he sat at the edge of the bed.

With an excited giggle, your hands joined his own to help him lower his pants and boxers just enough to give you access to his length — the same one that had dragged against you until completion just a few days prior. His groan at your touch was immediate, body physically shuddering when you wrapped your hand around it and eyed it with hunger. His hands laid on his thighs, fingers itching as he attempted to hold his reactions back.

"Can I?", you asked, leaning closer to it as your hand remained wrapped around it.

"Yes, just, fuck, don't laugh when I cum too soon," he warned with a whine.

Another giggle left you before finally lowering your head down to his own head, lips wrapping around it and suctioning meanly. With a hum, your tongue lightly licked at the tip, earning a mixture of a groan and a sigh from the man north of you. Your hand remained wrapped around his length, twisting while you tortured the tip with your mouth. To ensure you could really drive him crazy, your other hand joined in, playing at his balls and earning yet another sound of supplication from him.

"G-god, fuck, wait- Don't- Fuck, more, baby, please," he begged, hand shyly going to the back of your head to lightly encourage you to engulf him in your mouth.

"Want my mouth?", you asked as you let go of him, though still lightly licking at the sides of his dick, unwilling to stop teasing for as long as you could help it.

"C'mon, baby. I gave you my mouth, just- Oh, fuck, yes," he sighed when you decided to practically down the majority of his dick, enveloping as much as you could while using your hand to jerk off the small percentage of it that couldn't fit into your mouth.

You decided to show off as much as you could, taking him far enough to gag and pushing through it for as long as possible. The whines and whimpers coming from the man above you were more than enough reward for your efforts.

"F-fuck, you don't have to g-gag, baby, shit, don't force yourself," he panted out, barely able to get those words out without effort. This only encouraged you further, puffing out air from your nose in order to obtain as much oxygen as possible. You knew he wad almost at his end, so you used every asset available to you to break him. You took breaks to breathe every so often, but other than that, you were practically a machine attached to his cock.

"Okay, shit, fuck," he stammered out curses, "Gonna cum, pretty, w-where? In your mouth? Please? Fuck, let me cum in your mouth," he rambled while his hands made a mess of your hair as he attempted to keep it away from your face. His hips also began a slow and shy grind against your face — a barely visible movement but still completely present. It represented his lack of control as you blew his mind away, something which went straight to your core.

You nodded, humming against his dick knowing it'd cause a vibration that'd have him keening for his orgasm. And right you were, as his hands shamelessly pushed your head into his cock without a second thought, clearly too overcome with the pleasure of his orgasm to worry about gagging you with his cum. You, however, took it like a champ, reasoning that within some seconds you'd get to breathe properly again.

"G-god, baby, just like that ... C-cumming, shit" he cried, hips still pushing into your mouth. You wished you could see how his whiny demeanor manifested onto his face — those gorgeous features must've looked breathtaking when pleasure was all he felt.

Finally, you gasped out for air after having swallowed as much as you could manage, with some of it dripping past your lips. Jungkook let himself lay back on the bed to catch his breath while you remained on your knees catching yours.

This lasted very little when Jungkook suddenly decided to use his brute strength to drag you up on the bed, sitting your still wet middle on his flaccid self, pulling you in for yet another tongue-filled kiss. He hummed and moaned and whined as he licked every remnant of his essence from your mouth, causing a similar reaction from you.

After the fact, you shuffled yourself off him and made space on the bed to huddle up to his side, which he welcomed by cocooning you under his arm and pulling you flush against him. It was comfortable and silent for a few moments as you continued catching your breaths and letting the sweat on your bodies transpire — you also made a mental note to invite him to take a shower (with you, maybe).

"You moving in next door was not on my bingo card, but thank fucking god for that," he chuckled after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah? You didn't stalk your previous neighbors for a hookup?", you joked, receiving a devious squeeze of his strong arm in retaliation.

"Shut up," he tutted, "You like that I'm like a dog following you around."

Fair enough.

Silence then took over again, up until the two of you were rested enough and decided to get back to the task at hand — putting furniture together and unpacking anything that was left boxed (though you decided to leave any boxes that may contain panties away from his reach).

It was easy for you to fall into fun conversation with Jungkook, which only led to him staying over for far longer than anticipated, taking up your day and even ordering takeout for you to eat after getting all the grunt work out of the way. A shower was had, though you mutually agreed for no funny business (other than a good ten minutes of making out under the water, but that didn't count in your eyes). Since he lived right next door, he managed to extend his visit up until the last minute, entertaining you more than anything had in the past week of moving in.

One month into your new place and you decided the move was probably one of the best decisions you'd ever made. You'd come to find that Jungkook's old neighbor was not the only old lady living in the building, but that the neighborhood was mostly made up of old people (which, granted, Jungkook had warned you of in passing). That gave to a slightly boring home life, but you liked it better this way. Jungkook being your sole young neighbor was more than enough, specially with how often he went out of his way to seek you out.

After those first two hookups, no time for anything else was really had. This made you embarrassingly needy. The anticipation for finally having actual sex with Jungkook was too much too handle, specially when he'd still occasionally bump into you and catch you off guard with a kiss (which usually led to a make-out far too filthy for the public setting). You'd started your new job a week after moving and Jungkook was occupied by some reason or another, meaning that you'd only really see each other in passing. Although you'd text and keep up with each other, the frustration continued to build up.

The third time you were really able to get Jungkook alone was a little over a month after moving in.

You weren't particularly proud of how it is that you got him back in your apartment, but in your defense, you were ovulating that night and feeling particularly needy. Knowing that Jungkook was a bit of an unserious man, you knew that some pull from you and he'd put everything aside to come crawling. The thought itself made you feel powerful.

With a single 'accidental' text (maybe it was a lewd image, you'll never tell), you began to hear obnoxious knocking on your front door — within seconds of delivery, might you add. Excitedly, you walked over to the door, opening it to find a breathless Jungkook holding up his phone with your conversation pulled up, the incriminating picture taking up his screen.

"You're so mean to me," he managed to say before you pulled him in with a kiss, kicking the door behind you and turning around so he could press you up against the now closed door.

"Mean? I didn't do anything," you feigned between kisses, already lightheaded.

"I've been wanting to come over," he sighed into your lips, trailing down to your neck to catch his breath, "Just been so busy, fuck. If you wanted me so bad, you could've just come visit. I'd drop anything to have you," he continued, unable to unglue his lips from your skin. His hands mirrored his sentiment, grabbing at every curve with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before.

"I thought you were the one that was supposed to be chasing after me?", you joked with a breathless chuckle.

"Sometimes I need a little encouragement, baby. Need to know I'm not just bugging you," he replied as he undressed you almost as if it were second nature to him.

Walking you back into what he knew to be your room, he laid you down, now donning nothing but your panties. He soon after matched your nudity, stripping of his muscle tee and sweats, making his way on top of you as he'd done last time.

"Will you be mad if I fuck you?", he rasped, one hand at your boobs and another rubbing at your cunt through the thin layer covering it.

"You're an idiot," you deadpanned, "I'll be mad if you don't."

Needing no further confirmation, his hand slipped past your panties, rubbing circles on the puffiness of your clit while continuing to kiss you. This didn't last for long, simply being used as an aid to lubricate you with your own wetness as his fingers reached a little souther to smear your slick around while his thumb continued to play with the swollen bud.

Already unclothed, Jungkook took his hand away from you, resulting in a whine from your lips to his and moving his hand onto his own arousal. Jerking himself a few times, he stopped kissing you in favor of leaning back to look down at you while twisting his fist on his dick. After quickly fishing for a condom from his discarded pants, he went back to his previous position, rolling it in while you nagged at him to hurry.

Before actually entering you, of course he had to piss you off one last time by teasing your clit with the tip of his cock, groaning when he felt you flutter beneath him. One kick from you was enough for him to chuckle and finally enter you, groaning in unison with you at the feeling.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned when you felt him begin bottoming out, inch by inch filling you up enough to cause an unknown level of pleasurable pain. You hadn't stopped to think what that size would feel like inside you — or at least as much as he was able to get in.

Above you, Jungkook looked tortured, still and with a wincing look on his face as he waited for the green light to begin moving in and out of you. It took you a few moments longer, nimble fingers digging into the muscles of his arms before you finally nodded at him to move.

"Fuck," he groaned upon finally beginning to pick up a pace, biting his lip and his eyes almost rolled back.

"More," you urged, falling in love with the feeling of him immediately.

Your eyes were crossed, your fingers digging far too painfully into his skin, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, everything was far too intense far too quickly. He obeyed your plea immediately, making matters worse for you, having already been blowing your mind prior but now simply melting it.

"How do you feel this good?", he grunted. His arms reached your thighs, pulling you up a bit to hammer into you at a better angle, "Should've fucked you since that first day, shit. How'd I get such a pretty- fuck, such a pretty girl delivered right to my door?", he went on, sweat building on his skin.

The slapping of skin sped up with the proximity of Jungkook's orgasm, just as yours followed along. His hands were restless, attempting to hold you up while also thirsty to feel every possible inch of your body.

"Please tell me you're close, or else this is going to be really embarrassing for me," he muttered onto your skin.

With a chuckle, you confirmed your incoming high, whining when he finally let himself go and sped up in order to reach his own orgasm, now more relaxed knowing you were right with him.

He let out some uncharacteristically high moans as he filled up the condom, groaning and stilling once he was finally done. You joined him mere seconds later, arching your back and pressing your chest against his own as bliss encompassed you. Despite the sticky sweat covering you both, Jungkook let himself fall against you, pulling out and placing the condom aside momentarily so he could lay beside you while you caught your breath.

In the almost silent room, Jungkook nuzzled against you and kissed the sweaty skin he could reach, hands playing with your hair as he pressed you up against him.

"Would it be bad if I asked you out? Or should I have done that before seducing you in the laundry room?", he wondered out loud, leaving love bites on your neck.

You laughed at how random he could be, appreciating how he spoke his thoughts aloud most of the time, "You can ask me out, I won't bite. Unlike some people," you muttered the last part, giggling when he gave you a slightly harsher bite.

"You like it, don't lie," he muttered, suddenly getting up and dragging you with him despite your whine in negation, "C'mon, we're going to take a shower, have a quickie, and then I'm taking you out for some boba," he decided, using his inhuman strength to pull you up and drag you to your restroom.

"But-"

"C'mon, I've been wanting to ask you out since you moved in, I'm already late," he hushed you, carrying your basically limp body to the restroom with the promise of a fun night, something you did not have it in you (nor did you want to) deny.

to read short 1.6k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 433 (teaser); 1619 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Are you ever going back to your apartment?", you murmured, though it was likely muffled by the large body wrapped around you.

"What, already tired of me?", asked Jungkook as he continued to nose at your skin, a habit you realized he had soon after making things official. He had a sensitive nose, he'd said once, always enjoying the cosmetic products that gave you that floral scent he adored.

After a month of officially dating, Jungkook had become the human manifestation of a leech. It was rare for him to leave tour side whenever you so happened to have free time and would take advantage of the proximity between your apartments.

Being frank, this was something you loved about him. Still in the honeymoon phase, there was nothing better than getting to see your boyfriend at any given time, especially when he was the one seeking you out. He made you feel wanted and like you were a necessity for him, almost as if he had an addiction to you.

That being said, the man just would not leave your apartment.

Now, this wasn't too much of a bother thus far. You liked it, in fact (at least for the most part). He was quite clean while also being laid back, which was a great combination to have in a person who was practically taking on the role of your roommate.

He did, however, prove to become a distraction when it came to your day to day life. You allowed yourself to indulge in his company too much, leading to a huge drop in your productivity.

But what could you do? He was addictive.

"You love having me around, don't lie to yourself," he continued, "What, tired of waking up to head?", he joked, hands making their way under your shirt to cheekily trace your skin.

"Waking up to head?," you asked incredulously, "You woke me up by tickling me, you menace."

He chuckled, adjusting himself on the bed so he could climb on top of you, knees settled on each side of you and hands slowly bringing your top up.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I've been a bad guest. Let me make it up to you?", he grinned, snaking his way down your body until his head was leveled with your stomach, kissing the skin he'd freed just moments prior.

"Better make it worth my while or else I'll start charging you rent for every hour you spend in here."

"I'll move in. Don't threaten me with a good time," he joked, knowing most of his time was spent here with you regardless.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut

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wonderthor · 6 months ago

Text

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

#dangerous sukuna #i might make dangerous sukuna a thing #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna fic #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryoumen #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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nihilistikal · 2 years ago

Note

You are amazingly good looking, am super jealous.

Dear Anon, I am but a humble potato, truly. Or, on rare occasions, a culmination of three potoos and an unaccounted number of feral raccoons in a trenchcoat 🥹🥺

#this caught me off guard and by surprise so have me fumbling AHAH #truly though I rarely ever think of myself that way so this meant a lot and I thank you for it #though I'd say there is nothing to be jealous about 🖤

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always-just-red · 3 months ago

Note

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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meowzfordayz · 11 months ago

Text

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!”

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!”

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

Tengen starts running

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?”

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

#hashira x reader #headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

5K notes · View notes

lovesculprit · 17 days ago

Text

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Daydreamin'

Ft. Diluc ノ Zhongli ノAyato ノ Wanderer ノ Alhaitham ノChilde ノ Wriothesley

sum: meet cutes with the genshin men <3

contains: sfw, fempov, reader is short in zhongli's, these take place in random au's wc: 8.6k (roughly 1k - 1.6k per part)

a/n: i have missed writing fluff so much !

❥ - 1.6k

The masquerade was alive, full of colour and movement; the huge ballroom was a sea of masks and shining fabrics. The whole room was filled with music, a lilting waltz to guide every step and turn. Couples moved in time around you, their faces hidden.

You had been partnered with a man who was a gentleman but you didn’t seem to click, and though his dancing steps were passable, they lacked the style that truly made dancing a pleasure. You concentrated on following the rhythm, not letting your mind stray too openly. The masked anonymity of the ball was exhilarating, yes, but so far, the evening hadn't held much excitement.

Your eyes automatically scanned the room, and that's when you saw him.

Tall and poised, with his pale blue hair tied back in place, he moved with an ease that seemed to command the eyes of everyone within his vicinity. His mask was a beautiful work in blue and white, framing sharp features and a couple of piercing, unfathomable eyes.

While your partner was stiff and formal, this man carried with an air of quiet intensity that set him apart from all others. His hand was steady at his dancing partner’s waist, his steps precise, but there was an ease to him that made it clear he belonged in this kind of setting.

You tried not to stare, but when his partner twirled, his eyes met yours across the dance floor. It was momentary, just a glimpse before he was carried away, but that single jolt of awareness ran through you. You felt restless all of a sudden, the steady rhythm of the waltz not enough to keep your thoughts from straying.

And just as the melody took on a brighter, more playful tone, so did the pace of the dance. In an instant, you whirled around quickly, releasing your partner's hand only to be caught by another. It was a seamless, yet exhilarating shift, but before you could even register what happened, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

The man with the blue and white mask.

"Good evening" a smooth, lilting voice greeted. "Fortune does appear to be smiling on me, tonight." He was quietly confident, gloved hand steady over yours, the other resting lightly against your waist. For a moment, words just wouldn't come.

"I—hello," you managed, your voice faltering under his piercing gaze. "Good um, evening-"

His lips curled into a very small smile—the kind of smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "You don't sound entirely certain," he said, his voice light and teasing but not impolite.

You caught yourself smiling back at him despite the flip in your chest. "I guess I wasn't expecting the evening to take such an…interesting turn."

"Interesting?" His brow arched beneath the edge of his mask as he moved with fluid grace, steering you into the next step. "I hope that's a compliment."

"Perhaps it is," you said, finding your stride with surprising ease. He danced with an unhurried confidence, as if the rest of the ballroom did not exist, and it was impossible not to be drawn in. "Do you make a habit of catching people off guard?"

His laugh was low, a sound that felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. "Not usually. But tonight seems to be an exception."

And then, of course, the two of you would twirl together—perfectly timed—and the room would spin with you in that moment. For a moment, it was as though the music itself had slowed to let your steps catch up, the world narrowing to the warmth of his hand at your waist and the steady rhythm of his movements.

"Have we met before?" you asked, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could hold them back.

He cocked his head to one side, studying you with an unreadable look on his face. "Not formally," he replied after a moment, the word tightly controlled. "Though I must admit, I did notice you earlier."

There was something underlying in what he said, an almost calculated quality to the way he picked them, which made you feel that there was more in his answer than he was letting on. "You noticed me?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you; you know your eyes locked for a moment, but you didn't think he'd noticed.

"Indeed," he said. Light and precise were his footsteps, as if each step was rehearsed. "You stood out. It was hard not to notice."

You felt flustered at that, though you attempted to downplay the thought in a careless tone. "That sounds unlikely in a room full of masks and finery."

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice light but with a sharper undercurrent to it. "But even amongst all of this, there are some things worth looking at closer."

The words just hung in the air between you, and you didn't know what to say. His eyes were fixed intently on yours; you couldn't help but gaze into their depth.

"And yet," you got out, finding your voice again, "we still only ended up here by chance."

"Chance?" His voice was suddenly low and touched with silent amusement. He turned you around easily, the room blurring for a moment before his hand steadied you once more. "Let's just say. I'm not in the habit of leaving certain things entirely to chance."

His words made you pause, your eyes narrowing slightly as you regarded him. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled, low and rich; it was almost a confession in itself. "The flow of a dance like this," he began, his voice silky, like the music wrapped around you, "is not quite as fickle as one might expect. Patterns begin to emerge, if you look for them, and well, it becomes possible to guide the outcome.

Realization dawned and you blinked up at him, stuck somewhere between incredulity and fascination. "You mean you counted the steps? To make sure we'd-"

“To make sure we’d end up here, yes,” he finished for you, his tone unapologetic but not smug. His gaze remained steady, his expression calm as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath caught in your throat as a rush of feelings struggled for dominance: flattery, curiosity, perhaps even a touch of indignation at the subtle manipulation. "And why go to all that trouble?"

His hand at your waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring you as his voice dropped just enough for only you to hear. "Because the chance to dance with you wasn't one I was willing to miss."

The sincerity in his voice took you aback, and for a moment, you were silent. His confidence had been apparent from the get-go, but now, beneath that, you saw something more—something almost vulnerable in the way he waited for your reaction.

"Well," you said finally, your lips curving into a small smile as you met his gaze. "I suppose I should be flattered, then."

"Flattered," he repeated, his voice playful but with a hint of heat, "is a good place to start. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for more than that."

You tipped your head, his words creating a shiver in your chest. "More? Such as?"

"Perhaps," he said, bringing his face inches closer, his voice lowering just enough to speed up the pulse, "to finally see the face behind the mask. It seems somehow unfair to be so drawn to someone so captivating without really knowing who they are."

You laughed softly, "Isn't the whole point of a masquerade to keep such things a mystery?"

His eyes met yours and held just a little too long, "And while the masquerade is lovely, I think I'd rather see you without the mask."

You looked away, the heat in his words catching you off guard. "That's a pretty bold assumption," you said, trying to keep yourself together. "What makes you think I'd even want to show you?"

His fingers tightened on yours just a fraction, but the spark sent shivers through you. "Because I think you'd enjoy it," he said, his voice low, almost mischievous-sounding. "I am only guessing that you're one of those persons who sets a great store by mystery, yet wouldn't balk if that mystery were to be let go at the proper time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but smile at his confidence. "That's quite the gamble."

He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Sometimes the best things are worth taking a chance on."

"I'm sure we could find a time-perhaps after the masks come off-when we can have a real conversation." He stopped there for just a moment, then added, "Maybe even a date."

You laughed softly, and a spark was lit under your chest that you couldn't quite explain. "You're confident-”

He leaned in closer, "If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t be here.”

The dance was coming to a close, the music slowing, but he didn't let go of your hand. He gave you a smile full of unspoken promises, "I'll wait, then. But I think you'll find you won't want to wait too long."

You smiled back at him, feeling the chemistry between you build with each passing moment. "Maybe I'll keep you guessing for a little longer."

He gave a small bow as the dance finished, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll take my chances."

❥ - 1k

The chatter of other parents waiting in line outside the classroom filled the hallway, a blend of polite conversations and nervous laughter. You stood near the wall, holding your bag and glancing occasionally at the door. Parent’s Evening always had this awkward tension—trying to gauge how much trouble your child may or may not be in based on the teacher's expression when they called you in.

Off to the side, a deep voice rumbled, "Long line, huh?" You turned to find a tall man leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way-broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and there was an air of calm about him that felt oddly magnetic.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a small smile. “They should’ve scheduled these things better. It’s like they expect us to wait all night.”

As your conversation with the handsome stranger flowed, a burst of laughter from down the hall caught your attention. Glancing over, you spotted two familiar figures.

They were crouched together near a display of student artwork, heads close as if sharing some top-secret joke. Your child gestured animatedly, while his son leaned back, laughing so hard he nearly tipped over.

Wriothesley followed your gaze, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Well, looks like the wait doesn’t bother them.”

“That’s my kid,” you said, a touch of pride in your voice.

“Annd that’s mine,”

You exchanged a look, realisation dawning.

“They’re best friends,” you both said at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison.

The synchronicity made you both laugh, and the easy warmth of the moment was enough to chase away the awkwardness of the initial encounter.

“Explains a lot,” he said, straightening up slightly. “Every day, my son’s got a new story about the ‘coolest’ thing your kid did or some scheme they’re planning.”

“Oh, trust me, I hear all about it too,” you replied, grinning. “Your son apparently always brings the best cookies to school and hands them out to everyone?”

Wriothesley smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t take praise for that, I’m not the greatest baker, but the shop-bought ones? Can’t go wrong there.”

The teacher’s voice drifted into the hallway, calling another name—still not either of yours. The two of you had a little more time to linger.

The lightness in his eyes softened. “Honestly, though, it’s nice. Knowing my kid has someone like yours to lean on. Makes everything feel a little less… overwhelming, you know?”

You nodded, your own smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I do know. It’s… good for them to have someone. Especially when it’s just the two of you at home.”

There was a brief pause as that unspoken understanding settled between you, the noise of the hallway fading just slightly. His eyes lingered on you, thoughtful now, as if piecing something together.

“Just the two of you?” he asked softly, his voice careful but curious.

You nodded, shifting your weight. "Yeah. It's uh- been that way a decent while now. Just me and my kid figuring things out as we go."

His face softened, and a flicker of something vulnerable crossed it. "Same here. It's just me and my boy."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Somehow, despite the ease of their rapport and the warmth in the exchanges, you hadn't expected to hear that. "Really?

He gave a short nod, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but. he's worth it, you know? Even when he's teaching half the class how to be a menace."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the shared understanding pulling you closer. "Oh, trust me, I get it."

His eyes wandered over your form before taking in the colour of your eyes Then, as if catching himself, he straightened slightly, his tone softening. "So, uh… what do you do? When you're not chasing after your kid, I mean."

You told him, your response setting off an easy back-and-forth that felt surprisingly natural. He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, even laughing softly when you shared a self-deprecating story.

"And you?" you asked, truly curious.

“Nothing as exciting as you,” he said with a teasing grin before adding, “I’m a prison warden. Keeps me busy, but… it’s good. Makes coming home to my boy feel like the best part of my day.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord, and you found yourself smiling again. “That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, though he played it off with a small laugh. “I try.”

The kids reappeared then, tugging at your sleeves and talking over each other about some grand plan they’d concocted. Wriothesley crouched down to their level, his larger frame surprisingly gentle as he spoke to them.

As the teacher’s voice finally called your name, you hesitated, glancing back at him.

“Looks like that’s me,” you said, your tone light but reluctant.

He nodded, his smile warm. “Good luck in there. And, uh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck again, a hint of nervousness creeping into his otherwise composed demeanour. “If you ever need a break from all this, maybe we could grab a coffee tea sometime. No pressure.”

Your chest tightened at the unexpected invitation, but his genuine tone made it impossible not to smile.

“For the kids?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened, that boyish charm impossible to miss. “Of course. For the kids.”

“Sure,” you said, smiling at him. “Why not?”

As you walked into the classroom, your child waving enthusiastically behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back. He was watching with a soft, thoughtful expression that almost made you feel like giving love a second shot wouldn’t be so bad.

❥ - 1.1k

The city was busy as you stepped out of your favorite café, the warmth of your freshly brewed tea seeping through the cup and into your hands. Turning the corner, you collided with what felt like a brick wall—or rather, a man in a sharply tailored suit moving with single-minded determination. The impact sent your tea splashing upward, landing squarely on his pristine white shirt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurted, your voice full of mortification as you stared at the growing stain on the fabric.

The man—broad-shouldered, towering, and clearly out of place in the crowd of harried commuters—paused mid-step, looking down at his now-ruined shirt. His crimson hair gleamed under the sunlight, but it was his striking eyes that pinned you in place as he met your gaze.

“It’s… fine,” he said after a moment, though his tone was stiff. He reached into his pocket, pulling out some tissues with the kind of poise that suggested he’d dealt with worse.

“No, it’s not fine!” you protested, fumbling to grab some napkins from your bag. “Here, let me—oh no, this was hot, wasn’t it? Did I burn you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, his tone softening slightly as he noticed the genuine concern in your expression.

You grabbed a napkin the cafe had gave you, attempting to help,, hovering uncertainly as he dabbed at the stain. “I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

“I wasn’t, either,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Despite his calm demeanour, you could tell he was in a hurry. His eyes flicked toward his watch, a sleek, expensive piece that looked like it cost more than your entire month’s rent. You followed his gaze and bit your lip.

“You’re on your way somewhere important,” you guessed, wincing. “A meeting?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound annoyed—just resigned. He folded the damp handkerchief neatly, tucking it back into his pocket. “But accidents happen.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you said, wringing your hands. “Can I… uh pay for it to be cleaned?”

At that, his eyebrow arched slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if the idea amused him. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It’s really not a problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a quiet authority that made it clear he was used to being in control. “But…” He paused, glancing at the puddle of tea on the sidewalk. “You might want to be more careful next time.”

“Right. Of course,” you mumbled, feeling like a scolded child despite his lack of actual harshness.

He glanced at you again, noticing the way your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and something in him softened. Normally, a situation like this would have him irritated—late for a meeting, ruined shirt, a stranger apologising profusely but not being able to go back in time and undo it. In his world, time was money, and getting distracted by little accidents was a waste. But for some reason, he found himself looking at you, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else—something that made him pause longer than he normally would. There was something about the way you looked—flustered, apologetic, and yet still trying to make things right—that made him pause.

Diluc found himself caught in a moment of unusual stillness, the frenetic energy of the city seeming to blur into the background. His eyes lingered on your face—a blend of soft, sincere concern and undeniable beauty. He couldn’t quite place why he felt compelled to stay longer than necessary. You were a stranger, after all. But there was something about the way your lips quirked in worry and the brightness in your eyes that made you hard to look away from.

The logical part of his mind urged him to move on—his meeting, his schedule—but the thought of leaving felt… incomplete.

He cleared his throat, his deep voice gentling further. “You really don’t need to worry about the shirt. It’s not the end of the world.”

You blinked, as if surprised by his reassurance. “Still, I feel bad. I’ve ruined your morning.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile, one that reached his eyes this time. “If anything, it’s made it a little more… interesting.” His tone was laced with something playful, a rarity in his otherwise measured demeanour.

The way your eyebrows lifted in surprise made his chest tighten unexpectedly. It was as though he’d accidentally caught himself wanting to linger in this fleeting encounter—an anomaly in his meticulously ordered life.

“Let me buy you another drink.” he said suddenly, catching even himself off guard.

You stared at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Your tea,” he clarified, gesturing to the now-empty cup in your hand. “It’s only fair I replace what you’ve lost.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, as if you were searching for words. “But I—no, you don’t have to do that. I should be the one offering—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, his voice carrying a quiet finality that left little room for argument. There was no hint of impatience, only a calm confidence that suggested he wasn’t accustomed to being refused.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Are you sure? You seemed like you were in a hurry…”

Diluc glanced at his watch again. For a brief moment, he considered the importance of his next appointment. Then, with a surprising sense of ease, he decided it could wait.

“I have a little time,” he said, meeting your gaze again. “Besides, I’d hate to leave you feeling guilty all day.”

That faint smile returned to his face, and his eyes held a warmth that made your heart skip. There was something magnetic about him—his quiet confidence, his poise, and the subtle charm that softened the edges of his serious demeanour.

“Well… okay,” you relented, your voice small but tinged with a shy smile. “But only if you let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

His laughter was soft but genuine, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “No need,” he said, the amused glint in his eyes suggesting he didn’t particularly care about the shirt anymore anyway.

He gestured for you to lead the way, and as you walked back toward the café together, you couldn’t help but feel like the city’s chaos had suddenly slowed down. With every step, the weight of your earlier embarrassment lifted, replaced by a curious warmth that lingered in the space between you.

❥ - 1.2k

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the garden in a soft, amber hue as the wedding reception continued around you. The hum of chatter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the distant sound of music. When it was time to take your seats for the food, you found your assigned table tucked near the back of the venue. As you approached, you noticed you weren’t the first to arrive. A man sat in the chair next to yours, flipping through the menu card with a casual disinterest.

He looked up as you neared, and for a moment, you were struck by how effortlessly striking he was. His silvery hair, streaked with teal, gleamed under the warm lights, and his sharp eyes gave him an air of detached confidence.

“Hi,” you said brightly, sliding into your seat. “Looks like we’re table buddies for the night.”

He gave a polite nod, setting the menu down. “It seems so.”

The lack of enthusiasm might have deterred you if not for the faint, curious glance he gave you, as if wondering why you were addressing him in the first place.

“So,” you continued, undeterred, “are you here for the bride or the groom?”

“The groom,” he replied simply. “We were classmates years ago.”

“Oh, nice! I’m here for the bride—she’s a friend from work. This whole thing is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He glanced around the venue, as though appraising it. “It’s… elaborate.”

You stifled a laugh. “That’s an…interesting way of putting it.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, though he didn’t say more. You took that as an opening to keep the conversation going.

“Do you go to a lot of weddings?” you asked.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, his tone dry. “But occasionally, duty calls.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a grin. “I kind of love weddings. The food, the music, the atmosphere—it’s all so happy.”

He raised an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, like he couldn’t quite fathom it. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sits and judges everything,” you teased.

“I prefer to call it observation,” he countered smoothly. “It’s more productive than forced small talk.”

You laughed, and he seemed momentarily surprised by your reaction, his expression softening slightly.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m excellent at forced small talk,” you declared with mock seriousness. “I’ll keep us entertained all night if I have to.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The conversation continued through dinner. Despite his initial reluctance, Alhaitham was surprisingly easy to talk to. He had a dry wit that paired amusingly with your sunny optimism, and he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth. When the dancing began, you noticed he stayed firmly seated, watching the lively crowd with the same calm detachment he’d worn all evening.

“No dancing for you?” you asked, leaning toward him slightly.

He gave you a pointed look. “Do I strike you as someone who dances?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But you’d look great out there. Imagine the dramatic twirls.”

“Hard pass,” he said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, I’m terrible at dancing, too,” you said cheerfully. “So we can sit here and judge—I mean, observe—together.”

“An acceptable compromise,” he replied, inclining his head slightly.

The night unfolded with an ease you hadn’t anticipated. Alhaitham, for all his aloofness, seemed genuinely engaged as you bantered back and forth. The initial polite detachment in his demeanour gave way to something subtler, warmer. While his words remained measured and his tone calm, you started catching little glimpses—fleeting but unmistakable—that he was paying closer attention to you than you realised.

It began with small things. During dessert, as you waved your hands enthusiastically while recounting a story about an awkward first dance at a previous wedding, his gaze lingered—not on your plate, not on the crowded dance floor, but on you. His eyes followed the way you spoke, as though memorizing the way your smile tilted or the soft cadence of your laughter.

“I have to say,” you finished, leaning back in your chair with a grin, “this wedding is definitely one of the better ones. I’ve been to.”

His lips twitched, his smirk almost imperceptible. “High praise. I agree, though I imagine your presence has something to do with that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—was that… a compliment?”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive save for the faintest gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Merely an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “Noted, Mr. Observer.”

He didn’t respond right away, but there was a quiet amusement in the way he refocused his attention on his glass of wine, swirling it gently as though debating his next words. Finally, he said, “You’re remarkably good at making these events less… tedious.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Okay, now I know that’s a compliment. What’s next? You’ll tell me I’m your favourite dinner companion?”

“If I did, would you stop asking questions?” His tone was dry, but there was an unmistakable flicker of amusement behind it.

“Absolutely not,” you shot back.

The festivities wound down, the lively hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of guests gathering their things. You stood near your table, slipping your shawl over your shoulders as the cool evening breeze swept through the venue. Alhaitham stood beside you, as composed as ever, though there was a subtle ease to his posture now, a quiet warmth in his expression.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his admission. “You’re not so bad for a reluctant wedding guest, you know.”

“And you’re surprisingly tolerable for someone who insists on small talk,” he said, his tone dry but laced with something softer, almost playful.

He glanced away briefly, as though debating something, before reaching into his jacket pocket. Without a word, he pulled out a neatly folded napkin and handed it to you. You unfolded it, only to find a string of neatly written numbers in crisp handwriting.

“For the next time you find yourself at one of these events,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes steady on yours, “and you need someone to… observe with.”

You stared at the napkin, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Is this your way of saying you’d tolerate my company again?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’d even go as far as to say I’d welcome it.”

The honesty in his tone, subtle but undeniable, caught you off guard. You looked up at him, clutching the napkin like it was a secret treasure. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler.

❥ - 1.4k

The gentle hum of the elevator filled the air as you stepped inside, juggling your bag and a stack of papers you were determined not to drop. You barely noticed the man already inside until you turned to press your floor button and realised it was already lit. Your eyes flicked to him—a sharp-featured young man leaning against the corner with an air of disinterest, arms crossed.

His violet eyes, striking even in the dim light of the elevator, briefly met yours before darting away. His indigo hair fell in soft, slightly messy strands around his face, the casual tousle at odds with the crisp, clean lines of his attire. Something about him exuded quiet intensity, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking as the two of you stood in silence.

Just as the elevator jolted into motion, he seemed to shift, his stance straightening ever so slightly. A few moments passed before, quite suddenly, the elevator stopped with a soft lurch.

“Oh,” you murmured, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall. The lights remained on, but the numbers on the display froze.

“What just happened?” you asked aloud, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “Looks like it’s stuck,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You frowned, pressing the button for your floor a few times. Nothing. Then you tried the "door open" button, with no better results. “Great,” you sighed, leaning back. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

“It happens,” he said, not quite looking at you.

You nodded, trying not to feel awkward in the confined space. You glanced over at him again, noticing how he seemed strangely composed for someone stuck in an elevator. In fact, there was an odd tension in the way he stood, his arms folded tightly as if he were holding something back.

After a beat, you broke the silence. “So… do you think someone’s already working on it?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. I pressed the emergency button.”

You blinked. “When?”

“Just now,” he said, his voice a little too quick. “They’ll fix it soon.”

Something about his answer struck you as odd, but you didn’t press. You instead leaned against the wall and let out a small laugh. “Guess it’s not the worst scenario.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “True,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he added, “Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “Getting stuck in elevators? No, not really.” you laugh a little, “Why, does it happen to you?”

“...Not exactly,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

His gaze flicked to yours then, and for a moment, he seemed completely still, like he was caught in a thought he didn’t want to share. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his expression tightening.

“Are you okay?” you asked, concerned by his sudden silence.

He nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… not great with small talk.”

You laughed gently at his honesty. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

He hesitated, the faintest hint of frustration flashing in his eyes before he spoke again, his words awkward but sincere. “I… don’t mind…talking. To you.”

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because his cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked away, scowling at himself. “Forget it,” he muttered.

“No, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly, smiling at him. “It’s actually… kind of nice. You just don’t seem like the type who talks just to fill the silence.”

He glanced at you again, and something in his expression softened. “I don’t.”

“Well,” you said lightly, “I guess I’ll take it as a compliment, then.”

The smallest smirk ghosted across his lips, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. The elevator felt a little less stifling after that, the tension easing as the two of you settled into a companionable silence.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the faint press of his fingers against the emergency stop button, hidden just behind his back. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened as he glanced at you one more time, silently cursing himself for how ridiculous he felt—and how glad he was that he’d pressed it anyway.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said abruptly, the words coming out more bluntly than he’d intended.

You blinked, tilting your head as you tried to place him. “Really? Where?”

His gaze darted to the floor for a second, then back to you. “In one of the other departments. You work on the third floor, right?”

You nodded slowly, surprised that he knew. “Yeah, I do. I didn’t realise you knew that. Do you work in the building too?”

He crossed his arms again, his posture stiffening slightly. “Kind of. I’m usually upstairs.” He gestured vaguely upward. “But I’ve passed through your floor a few times.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a soft laugh. “I guess I haven’t noticed you before.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flush high on his cheekbones. “Not surprising. You’re usually… busy. Focused.”

You smiled at that, a little flattered despite the awkwardness of the exchange. “I guess that’s true. I get caught up in my work sometimes.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

There was a beat of silence before you tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “So, what do you do? Upstairs, I mean.”

He hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “Oh it’s…not interesting” he said finally, his tone nonchalant..

“Neither is what I do,” you said, grinning. “So I guess we have that in common.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “I guess so.”

You leaned back against the wall, studying him for a moment. His sharp features, the way his arms stayed folded tightly as if trying to guard himself from the world, the flicker of something softer in his gaze when he glanced at you—it all made him a puzzle you wanted to understand.

Wanderer shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms as if steeling himself for something. His violet eyes flicked to yours, then away again, before he finally spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“You know… since we’re stuck here and all,” he began, glancing at you briefly, “I was thinking… maybe after we get out of this, we could… grab lunch or something.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and you blinked, caught off guard. “Lunch?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his usual sharp tone softened by a faint flush colouring his cheeks. “You’re always busy, right? Maybe you could use a break.”

You blinked again, then let out a soft laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, relief flickering in his expression. “Good,” he said simply, as though that was the end of it. But you could see the faint tension still lingering in the way his hands stayed tucked in his pockets.

“I think that sounds nice,” you added, smiling warmly. “Did you have anywhere in mind, or are we just winging it?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll think of something.”

Before either of you could say more, Wanderer subtly reached behind him and pressed the emergency stop button again, releasing it with a soft click. The elevator gave a slight jolt and then resumed its motion, the floor indicator lighting up as if the issue had miraculously resolved itself.

“Oh,” you said, straightening in surprise. “It’s working again!”

Wanderer arched a brow, schooling his expression into one of mild surprise. “Huh. Guess they fixed it.”

“Finally,” you said with a chuckle, relaxing against the wall. “That wasn’t too bad, though. Good company and all.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his smirk deepening just a little as he glanced at you. “Could’ve been worse.”

As the elevator dinged, signalling your floor, you gathered your things and turned to him. “So… lunch?”

He nodded, his gaze steady for once. “Lunch.”

❥ - 1k

The lecture hall was already buzzing when you arrived, students filing in and chatting while the professor prepared at the front. You slipped into your usual seat near the edge of the room—a spot with minimal distractions and a clear view of the board. It was the ideal spot.

Or, it was.

“Hey, hey, hey! Mind if I sit here?”

Before you could even glance up, a whirlwind of energy plopped down onto the seat next to you. You turned to find him—Ajax, also known as the human embodiment of a golden retriever. His ginger hair was messy in that purposeful way, his bright blue eyes practically sparking with energy, and his grin was as wide as the ocean.

“Oh, uh…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“Great, thanks!” He tossed his bag onto the desk, completely ignoring the fact that you hadn’t exactly agreed.

Ajax leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who had never doubted his welcome. Before you could so much as adjust your notebook, he started rummaging through his bag, pulling out what looked suspiciously like a crumpled bag of crisps.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked, already popping it open, the scent wafting into the air. “I missed breakfast. You ever accidentally hit snooze like, five times?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the whirlwind of words. “Um, sometimes?”

“Right? Anyway, you seem like someone who doesn’t skip breakfast. Organized. Responsible. Probably always on time.” He tossed a crisp into his mouth and grinned at you.

“I…” You glanced at your notebook, feeling your cheeks warm under his bright attention. “I guess so.”

“Knew it-” he declared triumphantly, “I’m never wrong about these things. It’s like a gift.”

The professor began the lecture, and you thought maybe—just maybe—Ajax would settle down. For a solid five minutes, he stayed quiet, munching on his crisps and tapping a pen against his notebook. Then, he leaned over slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, be honest. Do you actually take notes, or are you one of those people who doodles during class?”

You bit back a smile, gesturing at the neatly written bullet points already filling your page.

“Figures,” he said, sounding impressed. “Your handwriting-” he gestured vaguely toward your notebook. “It’s pretty. Like, did you take a calligraphy class or something?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, clearly trying to stay focused. “No, it’s just… how I write.”

Ajax leaned in a little, his voice teasing. “Yeah, well, it’s very intimidating. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “Somehow, I doubt you care about that.”

“You should let me borrow your notes sometime,” he added, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. “I’ll pay you back in snacks. Or coffee. Or both.”

“I don’t think snacks are an acceptable trade for hours of note-taking,” you said, your voice dry but teasing.

“Ah, but I bring excellent snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like a trophy. “And I make for great conversation, not so bad to look at... You’ve gotta admit, this class is more fun with me around.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a mock gasp. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think my ego can handle it if you disagree.”

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am, sitting beside you,” he said, popping another crisp into his mouth and flashing a wink.

As the lecture dragged on, Ajax continued his antics, though they softened into something less disruptive and more endearing. He whispered comments about the professor’s overly dramatic hand gestures, pointed out a tiny bird perched on the window ledge, and even offered you a crisp—which you declined with a polite shake of your head.

“Y’know,” he said after a pause, his tone softer but still playful, “you’re kind of an enigma.”

You frowned slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “An enigma?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re quiet, all focused and put-together, but then you smile, and it’s like—bam. Sunshine. Caught me off guard, honestly.”

You froze for a second, the compliment landing unexpectedly. When you turned your head to look at him fully, Ajax’s grin had softened into something warmer, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your voice lacked the bite you probably intended.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered, leaning back again with a self-satisfied smirk.

You groaned, shaking your head and turning back to your notes but you couldn’t hide the faint smile.

For the rest of the lecture, he mostly behaved himself—though you could feel his occasional glances, lingering just long enough for you to catch him once or twice. Each time, he’d flash you a cheeky grin, like he wasn’t even remotely sorry.

When the lecture ended and the shuffle of packing up began, Ajax turned to you again, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, grinning as if you’d already agreed to whatever he was about to propose. “Same spot next time, yeah? I’ll bring better snacks, maybe something with chocolate. You seem like a chocolate kind of person.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his easy assumption. “I—”

“Great!” he cut in before you could protest. “It’s settled. See you Wednesday!”

And just like that, he was gone, bounding out of the lecture hall with the energy of someone who’d had three cups of coffee this morning.

❥ - 1.3k

The quiet murmur of a bookshop’s ambiance wrapped around you as you wandered through the aisles. The scent of old pages and freshly printed novels mixed in the air, a calming backdrop to the soft rustle of paper as other customers leafed through books. You found yourself in the history section, your eyes scanning the spines for the title you’d been meaning to pick up for weeks.

There it was—finally. Unfortunately, it was perched on the highest shelf, just out of reach. You stood on tiptoes, stretching as far as you could, but the book still eluded your grasp. Letting out a soft huff, you glanced around, wondering if there might be a stool or ladder nearby.

“Allow me.”

The deep, resonant voice startled you slightly, and you turned to see a tall man standing beside you. His amber eyes were warm and steady, framed by long, sleek hair the colour of dark chocolate with faint streaks of gold. He wore a well-fitted vest over a crisp shirt, the kind of attire that seemed more suited to a museum curator than a bookshop employee. Yet the small name tag on his vest confirmed his role here.

“May I?” he asked, a faint smile playing at his lips as he gestured toward the shelf.

“Oh, uh, yes. Please,” you stammered, stepping aside.

With an elegance that seemed effortless, he reached up and plucked the book from its high perch, holding it out to you as though presenting a rare treasure. “This one, correct?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, your smile growing as you took it from his hands. “Thank you so much….I didn’t realise the shelves here went so high up here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low melody. “The shelves in this section are rather tall. A peculiar design choice, considering the average customer’s height.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile deepening. “If you ever require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Zhongli, and I’m here most days.”

“Thank you, Zhongli,” you said, glancing down at the book in your hands. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

His eyes softened, and he inclined his head slightly, a gesture so refined it almost felt like a bow. “Enjoy your reading. That particular title is quite enlightening.”

“You’ve read it?” you asked, curious.

“Many times,” he admitted, a faint gleam of fondness in his eyes. “If you’d like, I can recommend others in the same vein. There are several works that complement it quite well.”

Your smile widened. “I’d like that. I might have to come back for those recommendations.”

Zhongli’s gaze lingered on you briefly, a warm, easy smile gracing his lips. “You know,” he said in a tone as calm and composed as ever, “you have a very natural beauty. It’s... refreshing, in the best way.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, and you glanced down at the book in your hands, trying to keep your composure. “Oh, um, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” he continued, his expression earnest. “Your smile is particularly radiant—it brightens the room more than you might realize. It’s the kind of detail one notices immediately.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling a mixture of flattered and flustered. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a rich, low sound. “I suppose I am. But in this case, it’s impossible not to be. I’m certain I’m not the first person to tell you this, though.”

“Well, it’s not something I hear often in a bookstore,” you replied, your smile widening despite yourself.

“Then allow me to be the exception,” he said with a small, confident nod.

The two of you stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling as the ambiance of the bookstore buzzed faintly in the background. Zhongli glanced down at your book again, his thoughtful expression making it clear he was not one to speak without intent.

“That book,” he began, gesturing to the title in your hands, “Explores a fascinating era. Have you always been interested in this period of history?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease, a smile crossing your face.

His amber eyes lit up, and he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the tall bookshelf. “You have excellent taste.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that “That’s high praise coming from someone who seems like they might be a historian themselves.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. “Not quite, though I’ve spent a great deal of time immersed in historical studies. You could say it’s a passion of mine.”

“I can tell,” you said, tilting your head. “You speak about it so eloquently. Have you worked here long?”

“Long enough,” he replied cryptically, though his smile didn’t waver. “And long enough to learn which shelves require a ladder and which ones are within an acceptable reach.”

You laughed at his response, the sound light and genuine. “Well, your knowledge certainly came in handy today. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be strategizing how to climb the bookshelf without breaking any bones.”

“I’m glad I could save you the trouble,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Though, I must say, I suspect you would have approached it with admirable determination.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug, grinning. “But it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have to try.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, Zhongli proving to be an impeccable listener with a knack for making even the smallest details feel significant. He shared recommendations for other books with a quiet enthusiasm that made you wonder just how vast his knowledge was. At one point, he mentioned a nearby café where he often went to read, his casual suggestion tinged with the faintest hint of an invitation.

“Do you spend much time in bookstores?” he asked after a pause, his tone curious.

“Probably more than I should,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “There’s something so comforting about them. The quiet, the endless possibilities on the shelves… it’s like a little escape from the world.”

Zhongli’s expression softened, and for a moment, he regarded you with a look so earnest it made your pulse quicken. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said quietly. “It’s rare to meet someone who appreciates the nuances of a place like this. Most people simply pass through without truly seeing it.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying an unspoken depth. You glanced down at your book, your fingers brushing against the embossed title. “It sounds like you’ve seen a lot of people come and go.”

“I have,” he said simply. “But encounters like this… they remind me of the value in taking notice.”

Your heart fluttered at his sincerity, and before you could second-guess yourself, you asked, “Do you think you’ll be here tomorrow? I might need help finding those other books you mentioned.”

Zhongli’s lips curved into a warm smile, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I would be delighted to assist you again. Come by anytime.”

With that, you exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways, but the connection lingered, the promise of another meeting sparking a quiet anticipation in the back of your mind.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

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aklaustaleteller · 7 months ago

Note

Could you make an imagine where Klaus Mikaelson is the father figure to the reader despite not being her real dad? And her birth father came back trying to take her but Klaus wouldn’t stand for it and wouldn’t let him take the reader?

Home

Klaus had just been taking a stroll through the woods when he finds himself walking towards the sounds of a beta's broken sobs. Seeing the little abandoned wolf, Klaus takes her home with him, hoping that he'd be able to become her safe place -- which he very successfully does. But what happens when Y/n's biological father returns after ages in hopes of getting her back?

Warnings - None really, other than the fact that it's quite sad (but with happy outcomes I promise <3)

Word Count - 4.0k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

I'm so so so sorry for my absence the past whole week but hey, this is quite literally a 4k worded fic! So hopefully that makes up for it? (Also, thank you for the request, lovely anon. Please do tell me if you like it!!)

Also! I took the idea of Y/n's wolf being a little out of control from this very very amazing fic written by the truly talented @klausysworld Please do give the fic a read, if you haven't already that is, hahah <3

Klaus had been taking a stroll through the woods, his feet carrying him just about anywhere while his mind sped through thoughts a million miles an hour. He made plans, then backed them up with another one, and then made another one, just in case. And he'd just lifted his leg to cross over a fallen tree when his body came to an unnatural halt.

He was never caught off guard, but right now, as he heard hushed sobs and a heart that was beating in a painfully broken rhythm, he couldn't help but gently continue his stroll – in a particular direction with an aim, this time.

His head tilted as he neared the source of the sound, his nose picking up on a beta scent. It had been way too long since he had come across a beta, his major interactions occurring with either other Alphas or Omegas, or Vampires. As well as some other species that rather got on his nerves, such as the witches. It intrigued him.

From quite afar, his eyes finally caught sight of a rather small frame crouched against the rough bark of a tree, a jerk shaking their body every time their back accidently met with it, followed by another painful but gritted howl.

But what made Klaus' frown deepen even further, was the sight of wolf ears growing from the person's head. He felt as though his eyes were deceiving him; he had never come across something like this and if he wasn't mistaken, he was pretty sure that this was just an untrained little wolf -- or perhaps it was the strangeness making him think that there couldn't possibly be another mythical creature that was actually all too real.

So, he walked closer, his head a little ducked and shoulders bunched up on either side of his neck as he tried not to make any sound as that would surely startle the ...child, he realised.

The little frame, sobbing into their hands with their knees bunched up against their torso, belonged to a child. A werewolf child who was beginning to lose control of their wolf, and just then Klaus noticed a tail curling up against the little one's back in order to provide comfort.

He flinched when some wood broke unde his step, alerting the little girl and his heart cracked like a drought-stricken land when she jerked and looked up at him with eyes so big, full of fear swarming them and so much sadness that he could drown in it and not be found.

She immediately backed up into the tree, hissing sharply when her back met the unruly surface but not once did her eyes move away from him. Her lips trembled, a fat tear rolling down her cheek against her will and Klaus noted that the girl could not be older than a decade.

Taking another step towards her, Klaus froze when her wolf ears went back in, and a sob broke out of her mouth.

"Please, sir! I will do whatever you ask of me, but please don't hurt me," she shouted at him, fully breaking down into heart wrenching sobs as she tried to get up on wobbly legs but fell to the ground right away due to the tremor coursing through her body.

Tears blurred his vision for a second before he took the final step toward her which brought him close enough to sit on his knees beside her and rest his hand on her head.

"It's alright, little wolf. I'm not here to harm you," Klaus whispered, feeling her body falling into shambles under his touch. But when she looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes, he couldn't help but pass her a reassuring smile.

"You are safe with me, sweetheart," he said, now weaving his hand across her forehead to brush away the hair that stuck to it. "Yes?" He asked her with a soft nod, bringing her closer to his chest when she too, nodded. Her eyes were still uncertain but he could tell that it won't take long for her to let go.

This was a child, full of enough naivety to trust a stranger and Klaus was more than glad that he’d found her before someone else could’ve. And maybe his Alpha scent provided her with the extra comfort that she most likely needed, but Klaus wasn’t complaining.

So he rested his back against the tree this time and let her sit in his lap, his arms around her in a way that cocooned her away from whatever that had pained her so terribly, and ready to protect her from anything that came her way with poisonous intentions.

His heart clenched inside his chest when the little girl curled up against him, finally letting the sobs rake through her body and for all the sadness to cause havoc inside her little heart before it left her alone for good.

And for some reason, Klaus just knew to avoid her back. It was clear that she was hurt over there somehow, making him rub his hand up and down her arm instead, and rock the two of them side to side for a little bit. Slowly and slowly, her wails turned into softer sobs and then finally, Klaus heard her heartbeat go back to a normal pace again.

He looked down to see if she'd cried it all out, wanting her to tell him about the culprit who had hurt her like this but when he found that she had slipped into a deep, peaceful slumber, he didn't even think once before carrying her home with him, covering her up under his duvet while he sat on the sofa across the bed, looking at her and telling himself that there was no way he was going to be able to let her go.

He just felt something between them, something that brought them closer in a way he had never experienced before. He felt like he was supposed to love her, care for her, teach her all about the world and show her the wonders. He felt like taking her responsibility, giving her his last name and raising her protected from the world.

Perhaps it was because he, somewhere, saw his inner child in her. The child that so helplessly begged for just some love from his father and got the horrifying abuse instead.

Klaus wanted to take her under his wing and be there for her while she grew up. He wanted this very clearly abandoned little wolf to call him her father, and his brothers her uncles and his sisters her aunts.

He couldn't sleep all night, fearing that she'd wake up and ask for her actual parents. And he knew he'd take her back in an instant if she wanted to, but it would tear him apart into uncountable and unrecognisable shreds.

And so, he waited all night for her to wake up and hopefully deny him when he'd ask her if she wanted to go back home. And Klaus would go to hell and back to build her a home; to become her home.

But despite his stubborn decision to stay up and look after her, Klaus awoke to something soft and comforting touching his whatever exposed skin. And as he cracked open his eyes, the sunlight was already pouring inside his room and one of his blankets was draped over him. And he knew it hadn’t been on him for long as he had felt it sliding across his frame, and yet he couldn’t catch sight of the carer.

That was, until he began getting up and he looked down to find the little girl, sitting beside his feet and looking up at him with doe eyes full of ...joy. He noted that the girl was happy to see that he was finally awake, her heartbeat picking up just a little as a smile slid on her mouth.

“Thank you, Alpha,” the girl mumbled shyly, placing her hands on his knees while she began standing up. And Klaus’ arms instantly went ahead in order to prevent her from falling but she didn’t stumble once, reminding him that she probably had werewolf healing powers that performed with a slight delay due to her young age.

Klaus opened his mouth to say something but when the girl warily wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on the very tip of her toes to do so, he found himself caught off guard, once again. But regardless, he hugged her back rather tightly, lifting her off the ground and bringing her on the sofa.

“Are you okay now, little wolf? Does it still hurt?” Klaus asked her, one of his hands cupping her face while the other cradled her. And his heart swooned when she curled up on him just like the night prior, but this time only soft breaths passed through her mouth.

“The wounds have healed, Alpha,” she mumbled, almost hiding her face by tucking it away in his chest. “But my heart still hurts, I think,” her voice wavered as she confessed, now clenching his henley in her fist due to the unease it brought to her.

“Oh, little wolf,” Klaus sighed, his eyebrows turned into an upside down frown as he looked upon her with pity. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He whispered, cautious so she wouldn’t shut him off, even though she was too young to know of such a thing.

“My father, he – he kicked me out of the pack yesterday,” she told him with a quivering voice, tears beginning to pool in her eyes once again. “He told me – he said that he doesn’t love me… that – that he never has!” She cried out, a sob aching her throat and wrapping itself around it so tightly that it was almost beginning to choke her.

“He said he doesn’t love me,” she repeated, her body now shaking in Klaus arms as his heart crumpled inside his chest as he noted just how much she cared and felt, and that she was having to relive it again right now.

“Why did he kick you out, darling?” Klaus asked, wanting to end her misery and just a one line answer would be enough for him to go over and slaughter the entire pack.

“He wanted me to learn how to handle the pack once he wouldn’t be there anymore, how – how to be an Alpha,” she told him, tears flowing out of her eyes that had now grown bloodshot red.

And just then, her ears popped out of her head once again, and Klaus couldn’t help but pet the welted ears in order to help her calm down.

“But I didn’t want to! I – I don’t want to take charge after him!” She told Klaus, this time her voice changed its tone to be more convincing and desperate. She sat upright, trying to show Klaus just how much she’d rather work behind the scenes than take the lead officially.

“It’s okay, little wolf – you won’t have to anymore,” Klaus reassured the girl, weaving his fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll be here with me, safe and sound, and I will love you, sweetheart,” he whispered, looking into her eys with the purest sincerity.

“I truly love you, little wolf,” Klaus said softly at recieving a questioning look from her, asking if he honestly meant what he was saying. “And I will always show you love.”

She brightened up at that, the shine of a couple stars returning to her eyes as she got up, but then saddened again. “But what about home?” She asked, her tears beginning to dry up on her cheeks as she wiped them away.

“Do you wish to go home?”

“No,” she trailed off, looking away from his eyes as if guilty, causing Klasu to cup her cheeks and turn her back to face him.

“Then I’ll be your home, little wolf,” he smiled at her. “Yes?”

The girl nodded, quickly leaning in to press a kiss on his dimpled cheek.

“What’s your name, darling?”

“Y/n, Alpha,” she answered him, and Klaus wanted more than anything for her to call him her father or dad, but knew that he should give her some time.

“Lovely,” he grinned, taking her in his arms and getting up to let her in the shower and then introduce her to the rest of the Mikaelsons.

And it wasn’t long before Klaus found himself officially adopting Y/n, making her a Mikaelson and his heart had swollen inside his ribs when she’d so shyly asked him if she could finally call him her father.

Over the first couple months only Klaus noticed that her gentle and empathetic nature valued deep and personal connections with people over power and attention. He also learned that the reason she hid her high intelligence and outstandingness in whatever field she chose, was because that was simply ingrained in her beta personality.

So, gradually, books all about betas began to fill shelves in their library quarter of the house.

“Father!” Came in a shrieking voice, followed by his ears picking up on a rapid heartbeat and he was out of the bed in an instant, checking her over to see if she was hurt and he only shook his head when he found that Kol had just been chasing her around the house, early in the morning to keep her interest while Freya made breakfast for her.

“Good morning, little wolf,” Klaus grinned, picking her up off the ground and spinning with her in his hold, pressing as many kisses as he could all over her face as she pressed her palm against his face to keep his stubble away.

Loud giggles and squeaks echoed throughout the mansion as Klaus brought her back to bed with him, letting her lay on top of him.

It quite hurt him that she was too tall to curl up on him now, but it still felt good when her heart pressed up against his despite the many layers of bones and skin and clothing keeping them apart.

“Uncle Kol was chasing me with his vampire speed! Tell him that that’s not fair!” She whined, looking pointedly at Kol who was shaking his head at the door.

“You’re a wolf, little one,” Klaus began, pulling her attention back on him. “You can outrun anyone,” he smiled.

Y/n contemplated that for a second before she moved to sit upright beside him with a pout on her mouth. “Anyone but you, father.”

Klaus laughed at that, tackling her back into bed. “You do not wish to outrun me, now do you, little wolf?” He asked her, getting out of bed and letting her cling to him on his chest as he went downstairs. He knew that as a wolf, she preferred to nuzzle anywhere she found warmth, and that his chest was one of her favourite places.

Sitting her down on the chair next to him, Klaus let her eat her food by herself. Sure, the honey did drizzle down her chin once but he didn’t mind, instantly cleaning it up with his thumb before it could’ve slipped down any further.

Elijah asked her questions about the storybook he had bought her a couple days prior, Rebekah asked her if the girl wanted to help her aunt pick out a dress, Kol warned her against it by threatening to chase her and Freya smacked all of them on the back of their heads, telling them off to let you eat.

“Father, are you free to paint with me after this?” Y/n asked, looking at him with eyes that had truly unintentionally turned similar to a little puppy’s.

Klaus finished his food, noting another thing that her shyness had truly dissipated into thin air. And all that it had left behind was politeness and some convincing eyes that could get the devil to let go of a deal.

“Of course, Y/n,” he smiled, getting up and grinning when she trotted behind him happily with her own empty plate in her hand. He watched as she put it in the sink and washed her hands and mouth, letting her chug down her orange juice for once as he wiped his own mouth.

Once again, she followed him back inside his studio like a lost puppy. Klaus came back out with the heavier and the majority of supplies in his hands while Y/n skipped behind him with the paints and the brushes in hers.

Walking into the front yard, Klaus set down all of their stuff and sat himself in front of her, chuckling when he noticed that she’d already begun twirling her brush around on her canvas, not a single thought in her mind as she let out anything that flashed in front of her eyes, onto the paper.

Klaus on the other hand, decided to make a painting of colours chosen from her hair. Every colour he saw in the midst of her hair strands, he put it on his canvas, slowly and slowly morphing into a tree’s bark.

And when he checked upon her canvas to see where her painting was going, he felt his dimples dig inside his cheeks at the sight of every and any shade of green that she could find – perhaps in his eyes, Klaus realized when she raised her head to look into his eyes and went back to working.

Almost all of his days went like this, waking up to her running into his room after having had a shower, holding her in his arms for a little then taking her down for breakfast, where she would convince him to paint with her for a little.

After that he’d let her go off with Eilajh to read and learn some other things by Freya that she probably needed to learn. He would be out of the mansion during that, out to mind his business and kill his own minions because of their brave stupidity.

When he’d return to the mansion, Y/n would sleepily trod out of her bed and into his arms, let him pick her up and take her to bed where he’d just hold her and tell her how much he loved her, because someone had probably already read her a story or two.

Some nights she would wake up crying from a nightmare about her biological father, and then she would find herself running into Klaus’ arms which were already open, having heard her rushed footsteps and broken sobs.

Her wolf ears no longer popped out since Klaus had spent an insurmountable time helping her take her wolf under her control, but every once in a while, depending upon how bad the nightmare was, her tail would creep out of her shirt and curl itself either around Klaus’ arms or her own back, which Klaus didn’t object at seeing that she only did this when she was crying in his arms.

But once they’d finish painting, Y/n would run into the house with her and Klaus’ painting to show them off to her uncles and aunts, leaving Klaus behind to clean up the mess. But he didn’t mind it one bit, only laughing when she’d come back looking guilty and saying that she was sorry that she’d once again forgotten to help him clean up in her excitement.

And that’s exactly what had happened just now.

“It’s okay little wolf,” Klaus assured her. “You know I don’t mind it,” he said and let her hug him to show him just how bad she felt.

He rubbed her back, and got up with her hand in his, looking down at the back of her head and smiling as she led their way back inside.

“Wait father!” She paused her walking. “Look, the weather has taken a turn,” she stated, pointing at the sky in which angry clouds had begun swirling, the fluffy white ones long gone.

“Does that mean it’s reading time?”

“Yes!” The girl shrieked, jumping up and down, making Klaus laugh as she ran off to meet up with Elijah.

He caught himself grinning long after she had left his line of sight and shook his head, a smile still pasted on his mouth as he turned around to rule over the so-called supernatural adults whom even Y/n was smarter than.

“I see you’ve taken a liking to playing her father, Niklaus,” a rough voice said from behind, and while it hadn’t caught Klaus off guard, what had was the fact that this man was brave and dumb enough to step a foot in such close proximity to him.

Surely, he must have come with a death wish.

“Roman,” Klaus said out loud the name of Y/n’s biological father, his voice full of venom and he could’ve spat at the man in front of him. “I see you’re feeling daring today, perhaps even like dying?” He proposed, taking a threatening step towards the man.

Klaus had, the very next night of when he’d found Y/n, went on to slaughter Roman’s entire pack. He had let the man live since he wanted him to see and live through his own daughter's hatred towards him. So much hatred that she didn’t even look his way anymore, let alone call him her father.

“Let’s not get this messy, Niklaus,” Roman started but before he could’ve finished, Klaus had him pinned against the very door frame he was leaning so cockily on.

“I’m not your friend, Roman,” he gritted through his teeth, knowing that he didn’t need to clarify any further as to what he meant by that.

“Sir,” Roman started, stretching his neck. “I want my daughter back,” he said.

Red flashed in front of Klaus’ eyes as he sped towards Roman, tearing through his flesh and ribs to clench his heart in his fist. “I would’ve been a fan of such bravery had you not made the mistake of calling her your daughter when she fucking refuses to even recognise you,” Klaus finally spat at him, his grip on his heart so tight that it could burst due to the pressure.

“I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat if you dare once again to call my daughter, yours, or call your lame excuse of a self, her father,” he said, pulling on his heart lightly. “She is mine, and I love her and this is her home now.”

“I am her home,” he gritted his teeth so hard that they could’ve shattered.

Roman’s frame was beginning to get blue, knocking the realisation into Klaus that his hold on his heart was so hard that it was struggling to beat. “Go to the opposite side of the world and never look back here again,” Klaus compelled him, finally taking his hand back out of his chest.

“Now off you go,” he said, maybe shooed. “I am sure you know that a wolf bite can only be cured by my blood,” he hissed venomously, his eyes shining golden as vampire streaks drew themselves through his skin.

And once Roman had finally sped out, Klaus let out a breath and his heart to rest again, his hands trembling at the thought of what could’ve happened right now had he not been who he truly is.

Rushing into his room to clean himself off, Klaus rushed back out to Y/n who was currently sitting in front of Elijah.

“Little wolf!” Klaus called for her as he stood at the doorway of the room, his vision getting blurry when she came running to him with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yes father? Missed me, didn’t you?” She giggled teasingly, wrapping her arms around him and Klaus couldn’t help but nuzzle in the nape of her neck, holding her tightly against him as he kneeled on the floor and felt a tear slip past the slit of his eyes.

“I love you, my little wolf,” he said, whimpering.

“Oh, I love you too, father,” she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “You should know that I’ll always be your little wolf.”

“Forever and always, my precious” Klaus breathed, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek before resting his forehead against it for a moment, breathing in her scent and reminding himself that she’d also become his home now.

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mv1simp · 4 months ago

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for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

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A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #dark smut #18+ mdni #smut #max verstappen x oc #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #driver!reader #driver!oc #f1 driver reader

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beneathashadytree · 5 months ago

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EATEN ALIVE - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : biting, Sylus likes feeling his lover’s weight, neck kisses, BDSM mention, implied scent kink, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy fluff <3

Word count : 0.9K words

Additional notes : This brainrot is a result of that one homescreen interaction where you give him his palm and he bites you, and that one bond story where he’s sitting on the couch reading at some point. The image drove me a lil crazy😵‍💫 Also this was inspired by the song Eaten Alive by Diana Ross 🙏🏽

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“Another book on firearms?” they asked, leaning over him to get a glance at what he was reading.

Sylus didn’t look up from the page, glasses perched on his nose and legs crossed underneath his silk robe in the picture perfect image of regal serenity. The only acknowledgment he gave them was a hum, before simply saying, “Not this time,” and returning to his quiet laser-focus.

Annoyance flashed behind their eyes at his complete ignoring of their presence in front of him. And to make matters worse (or in this case, simply more irritating), from their position they couldn’t even read a single sentence upside down. “Aren’t you gonna tell me, then?”

At that, a smirk touched his lips, knowing that he got the desired reaction from them. “You do know that curiosity killed the cat, right?” The look in his eyes was every bit as fierce as it was taunting. “You seem hell-bent on using up all your nine lives.”

Bastard. He loved to tease them relentlessly, didn’t he?

Snapping the book shut with one hand, he pushed it aside face-down. He was taking all the possible measures to make sure they wouldn’t be able to read the title, it seemed. Would a kick to his shins procure the answer they wanted?

Before they could think of another tactic, he clasped their hand in his, unceremoniously tugging them down onto his lap. Yelping as he caught them off-guard, they barely managed to balance themself over him, hovering a little as they tried not to crush him—something he must’ve noticed, given the way he arched his eyebrow at them.

“Put your whole weight on me. I like that.” Sylus’ grin was wicked as he said that, but it was all parts tempting, luring them in like it always did. Maybe it was a figment of their imagination, but they could’ve sworn that they saw his eyes gleam brighter as they settled down properly in his lap. “That’s it, sweetie,” he purred, his hands quick to seek purchase in the fat of their hips.

His touch leaving a burning ache in its wake, he gently caressed every inch of skin he could reach. The hem of their top raised, nimble fingers dancing over their back and trailing over paths he’d long-memorized, he looked like he was truly enjoying the way their breath hitched in their throat, and how they squirmed against him.

“You’re too much,” they managed to huff out, trying their best to school their expression to one of indignation. “Weren’t you… just acting like I was distracting you?”

“A welcome distraction, if anything.” His free hand came up to remove his glasses, a mischievous look in his eyes. “If you hadn’t come for me, I would’ve gone looking for you in a bit anyways.” As though swearing his honesty, he pulled them closer and began pressing open-mouthed kisses against their neck, softly sucking at the warm skin. With every nip of his teeth, he earned a hiss of pain-pleasure, and a jolt of their hips bringing them closer to his. “You taste divine,” he groaned into their neck. “Smell so good too.”

“Hey.” It was supposed to sound admonishing, but it came out as a half-moan, half-whisper. “Stop trying to keep me off-track.” But were their words convincing, when they were writhing in his lap just at his kisses like that? “You’re… hah… avoiding me.”

“‘M not.”

Another kiss, this time at the junction of their jaw and neck, earning a small cry of his name, and that snapped them out of whatever daze they’d been trapped in. With a push to his chest, they managed to pry him off and cover his sinful mouth with their hand, though it seemed that it only spurred on the desire brewing in his scarlet eyes.

“Answer my question.” Panting and their head swimming, it was a wonder they were able to say anything coherent at all. “What were you reading and so hell-bent on hiding?”

As Sylus chuckled into their palm, he merely reached out a finger to drag the book in, quickly flipping it back up.

‘Screw the Roses, Send Me Thorns.’

Oh.

Pure delight danced in his eyes as he relished in their expression as realization dawned on them. Taking advantage of that split-second of their shock, he caught their hand in his, and bit into it—lightly, but just enough to sting in that way he knew deep down they liked so much.

Jumping, they were quick to snatch their hand away from his mouth, cheeks burning with warmth. Before they could even think of snapping at him, he’d licked his lips, as though savoring the taste of them that lingered.

It was all too hot, all at once and in all the most dangerous places of their body.

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” he coolly said, leaning back against the back of the leather couch and eying them with a practiced sultry-sweet gaze.

A promise lingered there; a promise of a forbidden fruit dangling right before their eyes and practically begging to be stolen and feasted on. Their hands itched to take him for themself, but would they do that without being devoured first? A chilling thought, and yet… the warmth in their core seemed to anticipate the moment either of them would snap and give in wholly.

Sylus quietly laughed at their heavy silence and glazed over eyes. At that moment they knew, that they’d fully played right into his hands where he’d wanted them. “But… judging from your reaction, I guess my worries were all in vain, hmm?”

Taglist: @mrlovesimps @snowyfragrance @lara635kookie @xinnn6 @moonlight-inthe-sea @canyonlouist @number-1-harumi-hater @2angelbaby2 @jinnieats @blobfishbumblebee @aesmstar @klutzycora-san @inkblotgalaxies @mxrissaauuu @rissaaaaaa @lilithmoonlite @wooyoungsfairygf @lemonsupernova @kpop-and-otome @elizabeth916 @cherrikissez @xcalkenf + my old taglist before Sylus was added (since I don’t know who wants to be tagged): @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @mushriiin @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology

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fatuismooches · 1 year ago

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I want to see each harbinger with a touchy lover/lover whose love language is physical affection 😭😭

Imagine the Harbingers when your love language is physical affection.

Pierro is learning to adjust. He probably doesn’t have the time or energy for large displays of affection. He’s already very exhausted from his heavy workload and life itself so lots of touching would be a lot for him. But let’s not forget this man is touch-starved. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say you’re the only thing that brings him happiness in this corrupted world. After the fall of Khaenri’ah, he probably isolated himself from a lot of things in order to focus on furthering the Fatui. So since you are really the link that reminds him that even he has a fraction of humanity left, Pierro does crave your touch. Just differently than how you might show it. He would enjoy simple physical contact for an extended period of time if that makes sense. Like, not anything overbearing, but tiny. You can pull up a chair and nuzzle yourself into his arm and shoulder while he works. It won’t bother him. You can keep your hand on his thigh as you do your own thing. You can try to hold his hand hostage, but it won’t work for very long, though it’ll give him a tiny laugh. Though, once he’s finally out of the office and has free time (which is extremely rare) he won’t say no to lots of cuddles in bed. Truly the only way he can relax. You didn’t hear this from me but he enjoys a damn good massage. Just start rubbing his shoulders in the right places and he’ll be putty in your arms.

Dottore has grown to like it, enjoy it even, and you know what his favorite thing to do is? Initiate it himself first when he sees you approaching so he can catch you off guard and then tease you. Assuming you’ve been with him for centuries since the Akademiya, by now he would have become accustomed to your touch. Sometimes he doesn’t even react when you wrap your arms around his neck (he’s a busy man, you know? He can’t always pay attention to you despite how much you complain in his ear! Though the segments will happily fulfill that role for you.) Touching the scars on his face will always make him stiffen, Zandik will never get used to that even though they don’t hurt anymore. The best time to get touchy with him is when he’s sitting at his desk writing or whatever, since you can easily cuddle him on his lap. Though make sure you’re prepared for it, this is Il Dottore after all. As much as Dottore likes it when you try to challenge him with that intellectual mind of yours, he also loves it when you’re quiet. If you can make sure you stay still for the most part and quiet, his lap and chest are all yours. He might even forget you’re there since he gets so caught up in his work but don’t get surprised when he breaks his pens… and then accidentally touches your clothes with an ink-covered hand. And don’t blame him if you wake up with cramps and sores… it’s well worth it though!

Akademiya Zandik is the embodiment of “what the hell are you doing get away from me.” And literally, everyone knows this, he does have a notorious reputation after all. There was one time another student placed their hand on his shoulder and he physically recoiled and looked as if he just got burnt. Everyone makes sure not to bump into him in the hallways. Pretty much all of the physical contact he’s had was when he was beaten as a child, so he’s grown a hatred and discomfort for it. Zandik even despises brushing hands with the store clerks and merchants. He can’t fathom the fact that touch can be comforting and even healing. He can’t hope to understand the idea that hands are used to love, not only to hurt. So if your love language is physical affection, well… you’re going to have to hold off on your plans for a long time. I know it hurts, but be happy you managed to get into a relationship with this guy first. You persevered a lot, right? You’ll just have to persevere some more. It takes a long time for him to warm up to your touch, much less constant touchiness. And don’t push it. Be patient. The first time you two hold hands is monumental. In due time the two of you will be cuddling together after a long day of performing illegal experiments behind the Akademiya’s back.

Columbina wholeheartedly enjoys it of course! She is an affectionate queen herself! Bina can easily sense you creeping up behind her to trap her in a hug, and she happily lets it happen. She will really just let you do what you want, and she loves how you two have the same love languages since it’s a win for everyone (minus the Harbingers, Pierro has to tell her to focus during the meetings and missions instead of clinging onto you.) It is funny to think that you two actually have schedules - first, you’re holding and pampering her, and then she holds and pampers you… yes, a very beneficial relationship, and no one is left out of the affection and love. If you want to hold hands for every activity, go ahead! Honestly, you two could glue your hands together and daily life wouldn’t be affected too much since that’s how it already is like… how cute. Though I hope you have good shoulder strength because Columbina will literally drop half her body over you for an extended period of time. Cuddles of course are heavenly, though more often than not, you two end up in a tangle of limbs and have fallen off the bed with the blankets, trying to separate. Oh and if you’re touching her wings? Make sure to be very gentle this time! (Otherwise, she may playfully bat you with them but accidentally put too much force into it and send you a good few feet away.)

Capitano is very confused at first but will go along with it happily. The tall and romantically awkward man doesn’t understand why you’re always insisting on holding or touching hands, but when you look so happy and smile so brightly, he could never refuse you. He doesn’t understand when you plop yourself on his lap out of nowhere, or when you cuddle into his chest, but he doesn’t dare move a muscle. He’s not even sure what a “love language” is in the first place until you mentioned it offhandedly once, and then the next day he’s reading a very detailed book about it in his private office. Capitano’s face is completely neutral but inside he’s secretly very touched and honored by your love language. Like, he knew you liked him, but this just solidifies how much you truly loved him. For some reason, he treats this as revolutionary news even though you two are married. Sometimes it doesn’t process that someone as lovely and amazing as you can love a monster like him. After acknowledging how much physical affection means to you he will open himself to you whenever he’s not busy. He will make sure you’re comfortable and cozy, because if you get cramps, or get too cold, or too hot, or whatever possible discomfort, he won’t forgive himself. Is he taking tips from the couple's advice book? Yes. Touch him all you want, he won’t be able to reciprocate very well other than a pat on the head and back or two but don’t worry, he’s learning.

Scaramouche will act like it’s the worst thing that’s ever been bestowed upon him… initially. Human touch is something that has a long, not-so-good history with him considering all his betrayals. Just the mere thought of it sickens him sometimes, he doesn’t think he could ever get used to it again. Though, the puppet has gone through many stages, many changes in his life, you being one of the major ones. A big change usually is accompanied by many small ripples in one’s life, and that is exactly what you do for him. If you’ve managed to make it to this point, a relationship with him, you two have probably touched a few times. But only a few. It is not something he’s accustomed to. So you will have to rein in your need to have your hands all over him and your desire for tons of smooches. Taking it slow with physical affection is key, but you will be rewarded. Scaramouche will slowly begin to tolerate your affection, behind closed doors, however. The only affection that happens in public is when he’s jealous and pulls you into his arms. Toleration turns to him internally begging for more, however, he will never voice that out loud. The Harbinger longs to feel you hold him from behind, as he mumbles curses and how you were so needy under his breath. He hopes that you’ll take matters into your own hands and kiss his cheeks so he doesn’t have to ask. He wishes for you to caress his chest, the place where his heart is vacant. In your arms, maybe it’s okay for Kunikuzushi to be the vulnerable and emotional puppet he wishes he wasn’t… But don’t get too cocky. He will still dodge your attempts at hugs and watch as you comedically trip over your own feet, and then walk away and softly smile at your whining and pouting behind his back.

Wanderer already knows how this goes. After all, you have forgotten him, but he could never forget you. He has every part of you etched into his eternal memories, your touchy habits, your kisses, your hugs, how you always try to sneak some hand-holding in to see if he wouldn’t notice. And of course, some things never change. After you two have gotten together again, you still do the exact same affectionate touches as before, as if nothing has changed at all. But he has changed. He is no longer Scaramouche, or Kabukimono, or whatever names he had called himself before. Wanderer seldom complains or makes multiple comments about your affection, nor will he be begging for it frequently. Instead, he has a more neutral-positive take on your affection. When you need him and his touch, he will be there silently. And so he will let you drunkenly mumble into his shoulder and cling to him in the tavern, not caring if that Scribe and the other blonde boy are looking at him. He’ll let you give him a peck on the cheek as thanks for helping you shop even if the mercenary and village leader are chuckling at the sight. He’ll let you greet him with a great big hug even if Sumeru’s Archon smiles knowingly at the sight. Wanderer will let you indulge, for he thinks that you deserve at least that for everything he’s put you through.

Kabukimono is admittedly confused at first, but in no way declines your advances. Your touch makes him feel quite happy after all. But, is it normal for one to be so touchy with their partner? He has seen other couples display such affection, but you seem to provide it far more than the average person! Whether it’s just a mere brush of fingers stroking him or a hand on his thigh, you always seem to be touching him affectionately. The puppet wonders if there is any real meaning behind these lingering touches that he does not understand yet. Surely there must be, right? He knows that some humans have odd habits, as you would put it. But nope - it is simply “how you show love,” your words echoing throughout his mind. How you show love is through your soft and gentle touches, your rough tackling when you’re feeling devious, the playful pulling of his cheeks, and always finding an excuse to kiss him. And he can’t say that he dislikes it! Though, it leaves Kabukimono to wonder - how does he show love?

Sandrone has no clue what to do or make of the situation. Physical affection is something that she is really not familiar with, even if the relationship has been going on for a long time. And someone who is huge on it? Oh boy, you’re going to kill her. I bet once, her face probably got stained with grease or something since she works with machines a lot, and you moved to wipe it off and her face just turned completely blank and still. Just completely unmoving, her hands literally frozen in the position they were in as your fingers tenderly brushed against her cheek. You may or may not have broken Sandrone because for the first time in your life, you heard her stutter, and then she avoided you for the next few days. So, not good at all really, but then again not in a bad way. She won’t get mad at you exactly, but she will not respond or reciprocate because she genuinely doesn’t know how. It is a super strange feeling to her, liking someone else’s touch. Do try not to do it while she’s working, because she will get distracted and then mess up on her project, and then proceed to lose it and then go turn some poor souls into dolls to let off steam from how ill you make her feel. Will she ever get used to it or get better at reciprocating? Well, I’m sure you’ll be staying with her for a while, so you’ll find out down the line.

La Signora enjoys it to a normal extent. There are times when she will be possessive and demand that you shower her with complete and utter adoration which you happily agree to. Though there are times when she will have to decline your offer - she knows you are a needy lover, Signora teases, but she too has work to do. And how will she focus on her duties if you are constantly luring her attention to you instead of where it needs to be? Signora promises to give you what you want later. Though, you will be touching Rosalyne a lot more than you think. Why? Because you help her with her own routine. You will help her do or undo her hair, which means rubbing her scalp gently and combing her hair. (Be careful! She will get annoyed if you pull on it too hard.) You love doing her nails for her, because that means you get to hold her hand for a long time. Please, brush your fingers softly against her face as you adjust the black mask on her face. Please, trace along her collarbones as you put on the black neckpiece that runs down to her chest. Signora doesn’t particularly think much of your super affectionate nature, she just knows it’s a part of you and will even use it to her advantage. You give really good massages, she’s noticed.

Pantalone feels his smile grow every time you unabashedly touch him, because he too will be physically affectionate with no shame. I don’t think you’ll win against this man because he’s just that good. You’re kissing him? Well, now he’s got you trapped in his arms littering kisses all over your body. You’re hugging or holding his hand? Well, now you’re being held hostage by him because he’s not letting go for anything. Every single time you’re touchy with him he will turn it around on you and be the one caressing you instead. All with a damned teasing smile as if this doesn’t fluster him the tiniest bit. Pantalone is the kind of guy to have his hand on your thigh under the table at every chance he gets. He will have an arm linked around yours at every social gathering or party there is. He will have you on his lap while doing anything possible - in his office doing paperwork, reading a book, even merely having a regular conversation. I don’t know, he’ll tell you about Snezhnaya’s economy if you want. You get my point. So, in conclusion, he is really one of the best to have your hands all over, so long as you’re prepared to receive what you give.

Arlecchino doesn’t really know what to do… she didn’t even know it was possible for someone to be so touchy-feely. You cling to her more than the children do! She’s rather indifferent to it, she won’t reject it, but she won’t exactly encourage it either. She is a woman who likes her personal space, after all. Though at times she does enjoy your kisses and hugs, sometimes she just needs to be by herself, and your constant affection can be distracting… Though, Arlie does like it in moderate amounts. For example, coming home after long days to be pampered and kissed all over by you. As much as she looks unsettlingly composed and unaffected, even she feels the weight of her responsibilities sometimes. When you two finally have the time to cuddle she won’t be irritated at how you won’t let go, and will stroke your hair as you’re buried in her chest. All Arlecchino asks is that you don’t do it in public, because even the orphans are beginning to whisper about how “Father is oh so lovey-dovey and mushy-gushy with [Name]” and she really can’t deal with that right now.

Childe is a cuddle bear himself, so expect to be evenly matched and also appreciated for your love language. Although Childe doesn’t really show it or acknowledge it himself, he is probably a bit touch-starved. That’s what falling into the Abyss and joining the Fatui as a kid does to you. So if you want to try and squeeze him to death affectionately, go ahead! He will be accepting the challenge and doing the same to you. If you have the need to always be holding his hand or gripping a piece of his clothing, he will let you. Even if you’re in the streets of Liyue, onlookers passing by, or in the privacy of your own home while he’s cooking (he will literally cook with one hand, don’t test him.) If you have the sudden urge to kiss him silly out of nowhere, by all means, he welcomes it. And he will reciprocate it ten times harder. He finds it rather adorable, to be honest. I’m sorry but he definitely tickles you as revenge if you glomp him too hard or something. It’s all in good fun though! Ajax is not one to waste your affectionate habits, whatever little time he has with you will be spent wholeheartedly loving you to the fullest.

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hannieehaee · 4 months ago

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HOT TO GO! (teaser)

18+ / mdi

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 461 (teaser); 7.1k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: september 12th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: this is mostly word vomit but i enjoyed writing jk's character for this one<3

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