#was somehow almost always having the moon shine through

[snazzymolasses]

also the patch of moonlight falling on my bed

patch of sunlight from the window save me

[starofthesea7]

König~ Carnivore

Very filthy with a little bit of plot xx

You overhear Konig jerking off and decide to investigate

You groan, rolling over and squeezing your eyes shut.

There it was a again.

It was faint, almost indecipherable, and initially you’d ignored it, told yourself it was in your head. The sweltering, desert heat (or ovulation) had gotten to you.

But now you were certain.

A groan, a delicious, thick groan dragging rough like barbed-wire through the thick, hazy air; rasping through makeshift walls and into your room— grating against your eardrums in a brutal taunt. You were feverish.

You’d heard König’s hoarse grunts countless times as he cleaned a fresh, gaping wound or heaved a particularly heavy load onto his colossal shoulders, but this, this was different. Under the cover of night it was different. Imagining what he was doing made it different; made your imagination run wild.

You bury your face into your old pullover, bunched up into a makeshift pillow— pulse beating deafeningly in your ear, yet you cant get the sound of him out of your head. There it was again, a strained, husky grunt. And wetness.

Oh—Fuck. So he was touching himself.

Heat diffuses across your shining cheeks at the sound. Eyes squeeze shut as your heart beat thrums. Ashamed, you strain to listen again. A moan, deep and rough as gravel, the rhythmic sound of his fist against his flesh. You were slick. Fuck.

You’re yolked to another side of yourself that keens away from the righteous path— dragged away by need and deprivation that only months of gruelling, violent work and near solitude can bring. You crave to go to him. To touch him, satisfy him. He’s been stationed here months, surrounded by grim, hardened men, surely he must be frustrated. Surely you would be a welcome sight to his lonely gaze. You ghosted over your clit, clenching at nothing but the hypothetical of him filling you up, stretching you out, pounding the air out of your lungs. Huge hands, rough and hot, groping at you in harsh, touch deprived handfuls.

You slid your finger down the split of your cunt, wetness coating your fingers, your thighs. He had no idea what he did to you — he was always so respectful, so quiet, eyes so focused on whatever work was at hand; but his reservedness only made you crave him more. Of course you desired what was out of reach — the only man who’d never made a move on you, never spat a snide suggestive remark in your direction, or blatantly stared at your ass. Typical. Man has always wanted what he can’t have, lured in by mysterious forces he can’t quite figure out. Our Achilles’ heel. You were pandora, and he was your box you were so tempted to crack open. What could be hiding inside that sibylline man?

You’re ashamed, perverse for thinking about him like this, yet you ached for more. For him. You press a finger inside, with a hot squelch, back arching. Another groan from the soldier. But his would be so much thicker. And longer. And his cock. Fuck. You know he’d stretch you so delectably…

You groan and roll over again. Slap, slap, slap… he is still going, fist to flesh— a soldiers stamina at work.

Studying a crack in the cement ceiling, you consider your options. You could lay here, and get off by yourself. Resort to imagining feeling his hand on your throat, cock in your cunt, groans in your ear… Or you could knock… with a slim, glimmer of a chance of him desiring you too, of him judging your ready cunt as a more desireable fit than his usual fist.

An unseen force dragged out of your cot, limbs heavy with nerves. Perhaps lust, adrenaline, or a mixture of the two. Spurred on by delirium from the heat, the late hour or clenching of your cunt you can’t be sure, but you somehow open the door and step out into the hallway. The moon is bright and you stare at your feet for a moment, feel them sticking to the rough wooden floorboards in the summer heat. Your heart hammers, each beat deafening. A humid waft tickles the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. Before you had a moment to mull over your decision, perhaps jot down a pros and cons list, you had knocked, knuckle and rough wood cracking dull against the silence of the empty hallway.

A deafening stillness. You flex your hand in apprehension. Then a rustle. Another pause. You hear him clear his throat, the creak of floorboards as he gets up from his cot, aged floor straining to support his immense frame. The blood drains from your face as your fantasy now condenses into the very real, colossal mass that is König. The door creaks open, you hold your breath. And oh, you bite the inside of your cheek as you look up at him, he looks so good.

He truly is a paradox. So enormous, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, gentle. A man of very few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt. His hair is tousled from bed, curing around his damp brow, cheeks burning from what you know to be arousal. You’d only seen glimpses of his face. His features are still shrouded in shadow, but you can make out a vague picture. He’s younger than you’d imagined— and better looking. Each one of his features somehow exudes an enticing, rough crudeness, emanating true masculinity.

A large, strong nose, slightly crooked as if its been broken one too many times. Lips split, bitten and red. Inviting. A glint of teeth, an angled jaw and the whisper of stubble. A large scar slices up his prominent cheekbone towards his eyes. In contrast, soft, deep-set eyes framed with thick lashes. Effervescent, pale olive green— heavy with fatigue, they widen in surprise at the sight of you.

“Hey.” You look up at him through long lashes, chest rising with shallow breaths. You were suddenly aware of your nipples poking through a threadbare tanktop, and sleep shorts two sizes too small. You felt exposed, like meat on display before a hungry animal. There was nothing more you wanted than him to take you, but there was something holding him back from lunging.

You knew he would disregard his hunger, till starvation, until you give him assent.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” His voice is rough and deep—accent thick, but his eyes don’t meet yours. He looks sheepish, like a teenage boy caught with his uncles playboy. Like hes dirty before you— if only he knew the fantasies you conjure about him at night, awake and in dreams.

“Um, I thought I heard something… coming from this direction and I just wanted to make sure you were ok… in here.” Your voice sounds as small as you feel next to him. He was larger than life, a tower of solid muscle that could break you like a toothpick. It sounded stupid, now that it had come out of your mouth, but you reminded yourself you had the upper hand — you’d ambushed him.

A weighted pause.

“Oh, um… ja Im all good in here.” He rubbed the back of his neck— rippling arm bulging with the movement. You don’t miss the hem of his shirt rising above the waistband of his boxers. A trail of hair ghosting across taught muscle, leading down to… You quickly tore your eyes away before your imagination strayed too far, looking back up at his face. You swallowed, a click in your throat, and crossed your arms.

His eyes flickered, so fast you could’ve imagined it, to your chest, as your breasts bulge above your arms, the top you were wearing leaving little to his imagination. A welcome aid stabilizing your wavering confidence. Your heart pounded in your ears as you lean toward him slightly.

You smiled up at his nervous face, and his eyes finally yielded in meeting yours. “Sorry if I woke you, just cant sleep.”

The door gave way, just a little as he stepped away from you, as if he couldn’t let you get too close to him— or he’d be unable to keep things civil, your magnetic field too strong to resist.

You glanced at his bed: a threadbare mattress covered with tangled sheets, a book… and something… pink? It stood out harshly against the greyness of his room. You registered. Your stomach clenched. The incongruent lace among his muted bed things — your thong. You were lightheaded, thighs squeezing together. He’d been jerking off to your fucking panties.

It was dirty. Salacious. So fucking hot.

Your knees were weak as you ran your fingers through your hair. You feel his eyes studying your face, trying to make out your intention. A wave of confidence swells in your chest, playful smirk toying at the corner of your lips. “I got more if you want to start a collection.” Your fingers find the band of your sleep shorts, pausing as your pretend to pull them down.

He stutters, eyes dropping to your waist, “W-What?”

You nod towards his bed. He turns and his eyes widen, face growing hot with humiliation. “Scheisse, I am so sorry. They must have mixed up your laundry with mine—“ He grabs it from the bed, scarred fist swallowing it whole, the delicate lace almost amusingly mismatched in his cloddish grasp.

He holds them out to you, eyes glassy with shame. You don’t move.

He trails off as his gaze involuntarily falling to your hips, then to your thighs, back up to your hands still toying at the waistband of your tiny shorts. His tongue, blood red peeks between pink lips. A glint of a canine. So he is a carnivore. He cleared his throat, eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze vehemently.

He’s nervous, as if your are his alluring genie he rubbed into fruition, and one wrong step could ruin whatever shimmering wish you might be in the mood to grant him. He was waiting for you to lead— cautious.

He can’t read you. He shifts, studying your face.

The air is thick, and molten— time slow, coagulating around you, forcing you towards each other. The mood has changed and you both feel it, dizzy with desire yet waiting for the other to test the water first. You gazed up at him wanton through your lashes— you decided to dip your toe in. “Want them?” —your voice is sickly sweet syrup which he eagerly swallows. His adams apple bobbing in his throat, and your eyes blaze a trail along a thick pink scar, decorating the ivory column. You want to run your tongue up it.

He simply nods dumbly, a lock of dark hair falling across his heavy brow, wide chest rising with shallow breaths.

You ache for him, stepping inside as he closes the door, and you suddenly feel minuscule next to this behemoth of a man, the room far too cramped. You’d never been this close to him, or spoken more than a few words to him, he always kept his distance. His hands are brawny fists at his sides, still clenching your thong, as if he was unsure what to do with them. Veins and scars litter his knuckles. You wanted them on your neck.

You bite your lip, dying to feel his hands on you. In you.

He groans softly, as if you taunt him, merely by standing in front of him. You lick your lips, you want him to touch you: “Take them off then.”

He steps into you, hands rising to your waist, gripping you there, dwarfing your frame. The knowledge that he could bend you like a reed made you faint with desire. His fingers dig into the flesh at your ribs, blunt nails leaving crescent moons in their wake. You moan as he presses himself into you, thick cock straining against his boxers.

“You tease me.” His voice is cracked, as if your mere existence was unfair torment.

Your fingers trail up his abdomen, lightly over hard muscle, up his neck and into his hair. You ground your pelvis into his as your fingers fist his loose curls, tugging gently.

Your voice comes out a whisper. “I could hear you through the wall, König.” He grunts, blood rushing to his cheeks and his cock in both embarrassment and arousal, fingers inadvertently squeezing you tighter. Finding the swells of your ass, and he pulls the cheeks apart. You groan into him, the feeling of him splitting you open in such an unsatisfying way drives you wild. Your cunt is slick, clenching around nothing. His hips involuntarily buck softly into you and you can feel him, painfully hard. How long had he been edging. To you. Poor boy. You rise to your tip toes, open mouth kissing the ragged scar on his neck as you imagine what his cock looks like, thick and aching.

A crackled, “Please..” He trails off— its all he can muster. Unsure of what to ask for, unsure of what he wants you to do — of what he wants to do to you.

“Were you thinking about me while you touched yourself?” Your voice is an airy taunt. He looked away with a ragged breath, then back down at you, eyes searching your face, tongue wetting his lips. Then he nodded. Your stomach clenched. He smelled of smoke and musk, and you wanted to crawl inside his shirt and be skin to skin, consumed in him forever.

You rise up on your tip toes, fingers gripping his shirt to keep yourself grounded in him, and he leans down. A hair of buzzing space between your lips. Breaths raspy. His hand finds the base of your head and he pulls you towards him. Lips searing. He’s gentle, firm. You run your tongue along his lips and he opens his mouth to you. He tastes like mint and cigarettes. Intoxicating.

Your hands run over his bare stomach, muscles clenching under your light, fervent touch. Your hands find the hem of his shirt and hes pulling it off, muscles rippling below searing, scarred flesh, formed through constant use and necessity — through years of arduous work.

Your hands fall to his lower stomach and his hips buck forward. You snap the waistline of his pants and he grunts. You couldn’t get enough of his paradox. So terrifying yet gentle. Sensitive. More dangerous yet safer than any other man two heads shorter.

You find his cock, palming it through fabric, thick and aching. He raises his arm to stabilize himself against the wall behind you, as if he can barely stand. You want to make him feel good so fucking bad your mouth waters. You kneel down, and his eyes widen slightly. “You dont have—“

“Lemme make you feel good, König.” You gaze up at him lustfully, a behemoth of a man, bending at your touch. He lets out a raspy breath of air as you slide his boxers down, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach. Eager and painfully hard, he’s engorged a dark red, precum leaking from the slit, tricking down the underside, along a vein. Your cunt clenches. Fuck— hes thicker than you’ve seen before.

You lick a stripe up his length, along the vein bulging on the underside, soft skin. He bites his fist. Wrapping your lips around his mushroom head, a briny bitterness bites at you and you instinctively want to shove down your throat. It goes right to your head.

You take him deeper, hands gripping his thighs, solid and hot. Deeper, bobbing your head. A small whimper from above as his head drops forward; you can tell hes doing his best to keep from bucking into you, shoving himself down your throat, pale fingers digging into his palm. You looked up at him and he grunts— youre a vision gazing up at him, lashes clumped together with glistening tears.

His hand finds the back of your head, hand so large it palms your crown, swallowing you whole. Fingers softly intertwine with strands of hair. The sounds of you choking on him pornographic against the quiet of night, your cunt clenching around nothing, dripping down your thighs, onto your heels for want of attention. All you wanted to do was take him deeper, bob harder, choke louder. His hand reflexively pushes your head down onto him, bobbing you faster. Faster, deeper. His caution gave way to brainless need— and you loved it. You sputter, gagging as he hits the back of your throat, jaw aching to accommodate him.

Hes grunting—“Im f-fuck, sorry—” His eyes were glassy, brows knitted with pleasure. Your cunt clenched as you looked up at him. One of your tits was bouncing out from the neckline of your top and his eyes flicked down to it, fingers tightening sharply at your hair, then back up to your shining, drool covered face. You an his angel, his nymph. The answer to a desperate, agonizing prayer.

He suddenly groans, pulling you harshly off his cock to keep from spilling down your throat. His heavy cock twitches above your face— a spurt of precum landing on your rosy cheek. He lets out a strangled sound, pornographic, he has to tear his eyes away, embarrassed, as you smile up at him. All you want to do was submit. Let him use you how ever he wanted, bend you like a reed in any which way he wanted. Stretch you to your limit, ruin you for any other man.

Hes breathing heavily as he smears it off with his thumb. You clutched his brawny hand, bringing it to your mouth. You suck the cum off his thumb and his cock jerks again at the sight of your delicate lips sucking his tanned, scarred finger.

Your voice is hoarse, throat raw, “I want you to use me Konig— however you want.” He looks down at you, expression pained and needy. “Can you do that for me.” He lowered his chin in a fucked out, decisive nod. You rose, and blushing as he tugs your shirt down reflexively, your other tit bobbing out. His eyes are glued to your chest, calloused hands dwarfing you as he gropes at them. Yyou whine as he squeezes them tight, his strength has you teetering deliciously on the precipice from pleasure to pain. You love it.

You tug your shorts down and he groans at the sight of you bare before him, at your smeared, puffy cunt. His hand instinctively drops to your slit. He drags a rough forefinger up and down it, watching in admiration as you buck when he catches on the split of your clit. Your head falls back against the wall, shallow moans in the quiet air.

His voice is quiet, “So wet. So wet for me.” Half question half statement. As if he is unsure whether this was simply a dream. Two of his fingers suddenly split you open and you keel into him, moaning at the divine stretch. Hell, two of his were four of yours.

He made no move to wait for you to adjust. Not because he was cruel but because he didn’t understand the extent of his size, didn’t realize how he stretched you. So thick, larger than life, gummy walls spasming as they attempt to take all of him in, be good for him.

“Fuck, so big, König.” His eyes were fixed on your face, as he slowly thrusts in and out, the obscene squelch making you dizzy. Your hands find his broad shoulders, nails gripping onto him to steady yourself— he hisses at the sharpness. He reaches in further, past the knuckle, pumping in and out. You angle your hips instinctively towards him and he brushes that spongey spot deep inside you. He smiled crookedly at a loud, airy moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders. His mouth fell open, mirroring your slack jaw.

Suddenly, another finger. Hes three fingers in and you would’ve died at the sounds you were making if you weren’t so fucked out. His name a chant on your lips.

He grunts at your clench around him, imagining it around his cock. “Schleib— so tight… and h-hot inside.” Heavy lidded eyes study yours, brows furrowed as he hits that spot, deep inside you. His rough, calloused thumb finds your clit and you jerked away in over stimulation, breasts press against his hard chest, hard nipples grazing his chest hairs. His other hand gropes your ass, pulling the cheeks apart as he works your puffy, sensitive cunt. Your embarrassingly wet, leaking down his wrist.

Your moans increase, “Have to be quiet Liebling,” his tone serious. You ignore him, mouth agape, sounds uncontrollable. Every rut of his fingers, every bounce of your chest forced the air out of your lungs.

You whine. Salty, cum stained fabric is shoved in your mouth. Your eyes widen.

Your thong. So he’d cum to you already, into your panties. It was disgusting, perverse. There is jest in his expression, eyes shining with a tease that has you clenching down on his fingers.

Your name, soft, tugs you back towards earth, your glassy vacant stare struggles to focus on him. You must’ve looked a mess. Hair mussed, tits hanging out from your top, thong stuffed into your mouth, but he looks down at you with a furrowed, ardent need. Below him you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. You were his. His pupils were blown wide, drinking your glowing vision in like a man parched.

His voice comes out strained and hoarse, adams apply bobbing against his thick, scarred neck. “Please…” he trailed off. He wanted to take you, fill you, fuck you. His cock stood tall and waiting eagerly. But he didn’t know how to ask. His brows furrowed, breath ragged, “Please… let me.” His hands tighten painfully at your waist, as if clutching you making sure you stayed here, with him.

You wanted to hear him say it. You furrowed your brows in question, his makeshift gag keeping you from speaking. You brushed his cock, painfully hard with your hand. He bucked forward, the touch pushed him over the edge— “Let me have you.” His voice was rough, strained, as if there was a chance you’d say no. You shivered at his choice of words. Let me have you. Give yourself to me.

Gladly.

You nod up at him, eyes sparkling. You could have easily taken the thong out of your mouth but you hated to admit it turned you on— his attempt at dominance, calling instead of forcing your submission. He tugged your shirt over your head. He leans back, staring with glassy eyes, pupils blown wide, his gaze trailing down over your figure. His mouth parts as he if he is literally drinking you in. Normally you’d feel insecure at being so bare infront of a man but his expression is pure adoration, it makes you want to further expose yourself to him. Your insides crave his stare, his touch, his consumation.

Huge, hard, rippling muscle looms over you. His hardness exaggerates your softness. His immensity making you feel small, although you weren’t particularily so. And yet he feels safe. A shield from all outside forces lurking, waiting to pounce on you. His broad shoulders blocking out danger, bullets, peering eyes— the rest of the world. Here it was only him and you.

He gripped your waist, and lowered you to the bed. You were a rag doll in his iron grasp, pliable clay. Your only desire was to do his will. Make him feel good, let him revert to carnal impulse.

A halo of hair encircles your face on the hard mattress, cheeks glowing, eyes shining with desire. You are a vision. His vision. Splayed bare before him. You trust him fully, a killer to all but you. He suddenly feels as if you didn’t belong here. In his room, surrounded by cement, and rusty metal and dirty roughness. He wants to protect you, take you away, devour you whole.

Your thighs part instinctually, pussy bare and sopping for him. Your hand falls to your cunt, parting your lips for him in a V. His eyes are glued to your hole, drinking in your display. He tears his eyes away, as if to keep from orgasming right there, at sight of you, spread open for only him.

He guides his cock, painfully hard, to your aching hole, gently pressing it against the split. You moan with needy anticipation. He slides the mushroom head up, precum smearing across your lips. He groans incoherent german, “I’ve waiting so long for you Schatz… wanted you so bad… think about you all the time.” Your heart jolted at his words— his head caught on your clit and you groaned around your gag. His eyes were glued to your pretty little cunt, and he pressed into you, your thighs instinctively moved together at the feeling, his massive torso forced you open.

He grunts, forcing his way in. Hes big, bigger than you’d ever taken. And the stretch, the sharpness of the pain made the pleasure all that much better. Another inch. Another. You squirm, fingers clutching at the sheets. An airy moan, your torso keens upward. Another inch, you spasm around him— when he finally pressed himself all the way in, the air was knocked out of you. The hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit, you clench hard around him— he jolts with a barbed grunt.

Stuffed so full, stretched so deliciously— you feel wild.

He stayed there for a moment as you spasm around him, muscles straining to accommodate him— his hair fell over his forhead, mouth agape, breaths rough— desperate to ravage you, pound into you, put your furrowed brows and brimming tears hold him back. He stares at the connection. The way your skin stretches tight around him, taking him so well.

He pulls out slightly, your cunt clutching at him, unwilling to let him go. He begins rocking back and forth.

“So tight maus—Scheiße, so hot inside.” His gaze still on your little cunt, stretched so wide for him, straining to suck him back in. His eyes flicked to your breasts, watching them bounce lightly with each gentle thrust. Desperate for more, his pace quickens. He grunts at the bounce of your breasts.

Harder, faster.

His hard pelvis ruts into you. The wet slap is obscene, hips recoiling with each thrust. Your nails scratch as his back, mimicking the sting of your stretched cunt, straining to take him.

Deep grunts join your airy moans, and your head is light. No thoughts plague your mind, just pleasure, stretch, fullness. His pace was getting rougher, more needy.

You feel your orgasm building deep in your stomach, an iron hot clench waiting to uncoil. He presses your knees down, folding you in half, totally helpless against his bludgeoning into you. You are a ragdoll to his whims, a hole for his use. He’s gotten a taste and now he can’t seem to stop.

Your legs rise, knees bending against his chest— spreading you open embarrassingly wide. Your drooling. He’s impossibly deep— you feel him behind your ribcage, forcefully bludgeoning at your sternum. His hand falls to your lower stomach and he lets out a strangled sound at the feeling of his cock pressing up into his hand.

He’s repulsed at the roughness with which he pounds you, but he can’t seem to stop. “I’m so sorry, you’re so good for me liebling, i’m hurting you, i’m - ah!- so sorry.” His breaths become airier, more pathetic as his release nears.

You clench, pulling him down into you with grasping hands.

Closer. Deeper. More.

The sound of skin slapping together was wet, obscene. Disgusting. You’re close, hurtling towards a precipice. He grunts loudly.

From you, a muffled string of incoherent “Gonna come,”— it sounded distant, far away.

He pounds into you rasping a shamble of german and english, how you’re so small, so tight, stretched so wide, stuffed so full. He’s fucking drooling.

He’s hitting that spongey spot over and over again. Bludgeoning pleasure into you so forcefully you can’t help but take it. Engorged head pushing relentlessly towards the entrance of your cervix, so deep youd never felt anyone there before—cunt stretched so wide he’s splitting you in half with every thrust, breasts bouncing painfully with every rut.

It crashes over you like a wave, cunt spasming irregularly around him, breathy whines— impossibly tight. You writhe beneath him, pushing him away instinctively at the pleasure, but he barely feels it, his arms caging you beneath him as you ride out your orgasm.

You are a ragdoll, limbs spread, nails scratching blindly, a hole as he ruts into you, faster, jerkier, more erratic, still shaking with your orgasm, his colossal frame curling around you. He grunts, at the feeling of you tightening around him. You feel him twitch inside you. His breaths become airier, more pathetic as his release nears. Your wetness coats his pale lower stomach and rippling thighs. Brawny arms wrap around your body, holding you so fucking tight.

“So, -ah, so close- scheiße.” He lets out a pitiful groan as he stuffs himself into you with a final thrust, holding your pelvises flush as his cock lurches, mushroom head notching deep inside you. Your walls stutter around him, “C- cumming.” His voice cracks, cock jumping, spurting inside of you pitifully, impossibly deep— so deep you feel it in your guts, so deep it would be dribbling out for days. Hot sticky ropes pump into you, his hips stuttering against yours. Hes grunting into your neck, brows furrowed, eyes brimming with the tears of pleasure that mix with sweat. You fall limp, stuffed, belly full and warm with him, you sob at the delicious pressure.

He stills, shuddering slightly as your cunt clenches, the squelch making you blush. Its quiet, breaths against stillness.

Hes relaxed above you, your body still bent in half, cunt pressed up against his pelvis still agape, sucking him in. He rises, eyes soft and fucked out fall to your mouth, still stuffed with your panties. He groans at the look you give him, and pulls the panties out of your mouth.

He slowly fucks into you, a crackled groan at the feeling of shoving his cum back into you as you squirm— cunt clenching, spasming around him, always so willing, so good for him. His brows furrow as he pulls out, as if it pains him leave you. Your hole is gaping at the loss of him. Cum oozes from your red, abused slit, down towards the split of your ass. He stares, watching his cum spill out of you, committing the picture to memory, in case this is a one time thing. His face is flushed and sweaty, lips parted in focus. The image making him lightheaded.

He looks back up at your face, eyes heavy with pleasure. Fucked out, spread a mess before him, you look more beautiful than you ever had. You bring your legs together, more cum spilling out with a squelch.

Your voice was a hoarse whisper. “You can keep my thong.”

[koenigami]

tags : fluff, a little angsty, soft and cuddly caleb

“…and managed to find the culprit. I just think it’s shocking that the police never really… Caleb?”

Halting your expressive hand gestures, you physically freeze as you take note of Caleb’s closed eyes. You slowly exhale, almost don’t dare to breathe at all when you realise how angelic he looks. With his lips slightly parted and his bangs falling over his forehead, his expression seems so very relaxed as he rests his head on your lap.

The true crime documentary is completely forgotten once you lower the volume of the tv. Instead, you can’t help but let yourself be completely enamored with him in this sweet serene moment.

He’s been away a lot lately, always the very busy colonel. Even when he finishes all of his duty related work, when all the meetings have ended and when all the paperwork has been finished up, Caleb still manages to find ways to keep himself busy. Sometimes you wondered whether he was doing all of this on purpose in an attempt to run away. From what, you weren’t sure. Run away from you? Reality? Himself?

Yet as you gingerly brush away the hair from his face, your touch so featherlight, you still recognize the boy who once helped you with your math homework. The boy who was once full of dreams, who shined so brightly that you feared the sun and the moon would plot against him and take him away from you because they might be jealous of him.

The pad of your thumb traces the dark circles along his eyes, and it hurts to see yet another light being dimmed by the harshness and cruelty of the world.

It hurts to see that he has obviously been through so much, yet you still only know so little about it.

Your fingers trail along his right forearm that he’s lazily draped across his stomach. You count each knuckle and crevice between them before you carefully slide your palm under his intertwine your fingers with his. Cold. A word that you would have never thought you’d use to describe him one day. And yet here you are, with your thumb caressing the cold hard surface of the back of his hand despite being aware that it is very unlikely for him to feel anything when it comes to that limb.

Regardless, your head jerks up when you feel his hold on your hand tighten briefly, giving it a gentle squeeze. You curiously peer down at him only to notice that he’s already staring at you.

“Sorry, I fell asleep on you, didn’t I? I must have been a little tired.” He yawns and uses his free hand to rub his eyes, the exhaustion somehow even more evident on his face now than before.

“It’s alright. You can go back to sleep if you want.” You offer a gentle smile and comb your fingers through his hair to smooth down any cowlicks that might be sticking out. His hair was always such a mess after naps.

“You know, it’s a little weird sometimes.” He confesses quietly and pulls your interwoven fingers up to his lips. The soft peck he presses on your hand makes your heart leap uncontrollably.

“What is?”

He smiles, and you notice a lingering sadness in his expression as he looks at your joined hands with a contemplative expression. “Every time you're here, my sleep quality improves. But unfortunately it doesn’t bring me any significant rest since I usually force myself to stay awake.”

“But why would you do that?” Your voice sounds judgmental, a little annoyed even over the fact that he willingly sacrifices his sleep and keeps himself awake.

There’s another soft brush of his lips against your hand, before Caleb pulls it higher up to his cheek and nuzzles against it. There it is now, right beneath your palm. The warmth you’re so used to. The bright light that would always light the path ahead of you, and keep you warm on the coldest and gloomiest days. It was right here in your hands.

“Because I’m scared of waking up one day and you not being there. I’m afraid of all of this only being a dream.” Caleb tilts his head and you feel his lips move against your palm as he whispers as if it were a silent prayer.

“I don’t want you to be a dream, Y/n.”

[greyyson-but-no]

good looking

somehow, even when he was dead asleep, arm lolled off the edge of the bed, jess was gorgeous. the moon was shining in through the curtain that neither of you had been bothered to pull shut when you'd gotten into bed that evening. it gave him a light, a shine that cooled in skin in the summer heat, making him almost ethereal.

you couldn't sleep. the rest of the day had been so incredible, you weren't able to stop thinking about it, and as a result, you had watched him fall asleep and been unable to follow suit.

first it had been a trip to one of the many cafes in the centre of new york, breakfast on him, then a day thrifting through record shops and bookstores together, getting together a good selection of both vintage books and vinyls for the both of you. then, surprise tickets to the strokes' one-off show where you spent the evening shouting the lyrics to reptillia and hard to explain with him wrapped around you, occasional kisses pressed against your neck.

the night had ended wonderfully, as assumed.

only now, you couldn't stop thinking about it. because there he was laying, fast asleep and peaceful. not a single worry in his mind at all. earlier in the day, he'd told you this was one of the best days he'd ever had. you knew a lot about his childhood, growing up, his mum, luke, everyone. he struggled.

but he didn't struggle anymore. it was looking like his book was going to be a hit, you both shared an apartment in new york and he was able to go and see luke whenever he needed.

he stirred, grumbling. "i can feel you staring, babe."

"I'm not..." you laughed, moving a hand to thread through his hair, breathing in the hum he let out at the contact.

"liar." jess smiled sleepily, forcing his eyes open.

you pouted, brushing a thumb against his cheek. "but my pants aren't on fire?"

"you aren't wearing any." he grins, peaking a look under the thin duvet, running a hand around your waist and pulling you close, his lips resting against your neck.

humming, you snuggled into him. "and whose fault is that?"

he squeezed your waist. "guilty, what can I say? you certainly enjoyed it, there's no denying that fact, sweetheart."

"i love you."

"love you too, and. thank you."

you spun around to face him, a hand against his jaw as your eyebrows furrowed. "why are you thanking me? you planned it all, I should be thanking you."

he shook his head, looking over your face in detail. "not just for today. for everything. you saved me."

sending him a warm smile was easy. "you saved yourself, jess."

"but you standing by me made it easier." he mumbled, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "really, I mean it. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you."

"now I know that's a lie." you laughed under your breath, not quite understanding where this whole conversation was coming from, five minutes ago he was fast asleep and now... "you started the book before you met me, you were a good way through as well."

he paused for a second, breathing in deeply. "i probably would have given up if it weren't for you, you truly saved me."

"honey." you pouted at him.

"hmm, shut up, it's 4 in the morning, of course I'm acting like this, leave me alone." he grumbled, pulling a face at you. "woke me up with your damn staring."

you shrugged, grinning at him. "what can i say? you're good looking."

he laughed lightly, sitting up a little to see you properly. "how long until we have to be up and moving?"

"luke said he'd arrive at around 10."

jess hummed, rolling onto his back and taking your hand in his, staring at the ceiling as he thought. you watched him still, as his eyebrows twitched as the look in his eyes switched between confusion and reassurance. god, he really was gorgous. "so, that means we get up at 10. you know he'll be running late."

"as always." you paused, your face lighting up. "oh! is he bringing lorelai?"

he furrowed his eyebrows. "maybe? i can't remember what the message said now. he probably will."

you smiled, letting your head rest on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, bringing the two of you as close together as possible again. even with the thin duvet cover, his skin was still warm, and sent that same warmth through to you in the summer nightly chill. "i've still got that jumped I made for her."

"sweetheart, have you ever heard of this brilliant thing called a mail service?" he joked, the corners of his lips lifting.

"wouldn't risk a jumper." you frowned, shaking your head. "especially with the stories i've heard about the stars hollow mail service from everyone."

jess smiled, remembering all his years spent there. all the people met and hated, all the people he met and loved. everyone he ever said hello to and everyone he ever said goodbye to. "you would have really liked stars hollow, i think."

you sat up a little on your elbow, finding his eyes as he looked in detail at the expression on your face. "we could always spend christmas there one year?"

"christmas is a special time there."

"sounds like it would be." you murmur. "right, we've got six hours before we have to be awake. are we going to try and go back to sleep?"

he looked over at you. "you haven't slept yet, so yes. you need the sleep. don't think I haven't noticed how tired you've been these past couple days." he leaves a swift peck on your cheek before turning you over and wrapping an arm around your waist, nose buried into your hair.

"goodnight, my love."

"g'night sweetheart." he mumbled, letting the both of you delve back to sleep. life was pretty good. jess was pretty good (looking).

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Just a friend

Azriel x reader

When two best friends are in love with each other and they finally get one last push, what will become of their relationship?

My laugh echoes through the room as Azriel tells me about his biggest and definitely most embarrassing mission scandal.

We have been talking for hours at this point. It was just past midnight. We did this at least a few times per week. Or at least we tried to, when we weren't working too hard.

The two of us were curled up on the couch in front of the crackling fireplace of the one of the many rooms of the House of Wind.

A blanket is pulled over my body with a hot cup of tea in my hands, trying not to spill the hot water as my body shakes with laughter.

Az is sitting next to me while I am laying down, using his lap to rest my legs on. One of his hands rests just above my knee. He always needed to touch me somehow.

"That didn't happen." I laugh again.

Azriel chuckles, "It did. And I'm not proud of it, but it makes a good story."

I watch his face lighten with happiness. Something I like about him in private; the way he laughs and smiles.

His shadows float through my hair. I don't even really notice it anymore, they are just there. A part of me, just like Az is a part of me. In a way.

Best friend.

Azriel's relaxed body stiffens slightly, his attention turning towards the door.

"Who is it?" I ask.

He turns his face back to me. "Late night talks are over." he gently pats my leg. "Cass needs me in three.. two..--"

He is cut off by the door swinging open. Cassian walks in, Nests following close behind. They both look irritated in their own way.

Their eyes fall on us. Nesta's eyes linger just a few seconds too long, curiosity shining in them.

"Sorry Y/N, gonna take Az from you." he hauls his brother from the couch and drags him along.

Azriel turns around one more time and smiles, mouthing help.

They disappear out of the room while Nesta lets herself fall down on the couch next to me.

"What did you do?" I ask her.

"More like what I didn't do." she says with a slight smirk on her face. I laugh, ready to ask her about the details. "Before you speak we are going to talk about something else."

"What is it?" I ask confused.

"When are you and Az just going to admit it." she sighs.

"What?" I ask stunned.

"Oh stop that. You know what I'm talking about. You're in love with him, he's in love with you." Nesta explains.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can't find the words.

"He's so in love with you. Why won't you see it." she groans.

"I don't know what you mean." I tell her, trying to keep my cheeks from turning red.

"Hm, let me see; the way he looks at you. He never looks at anyone that way. You make him light up, he actually jokes around you, the way you two are always cuddled up, how he almost always has a hand somewhere on your body. Oh, and when he talks about you when you're not in the room." Nesta says. "He's madly in love with you."

My cheeks turn more red. "That's what best friends do."

Nesta let's out a laugh. "Definitely not. Maybe some things, but not the touching thing. Oh, and how he always looks at you when you aren't paying attention."

I progress her words. Did I love him? No doubt. But with Nesta telling me this, I actually started to believe it could be mutual.

We've known each other for centuries, so if I even as much as ruined our friendship I would be heartbroken.

"Just talk and see where that gets you." Nesta smiles.

I toss and turn in my bed. The sheets and pillows are too warm, but when I get out of bed everything is too cold.

The moon shines through my windows, but I'm too lazy to do something about the bright light.

The thought of Azriel runs through my mind. It's all Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

Nesta's words hang heavy in my head.

I sigh and push the sheets off my body. I make my way to the closet to throw a sweater over my nightgown and walk for the door.

I don't hesitate to open it and walk straight through.

Azriel's room isn't far away from mine. Where my room is at the very beginning of the hallway, his is at the very end.

I've been inside his room many times, but never have I actually been nervous to enter.

I move my hand to knock, but the door already opens, revealing a very much awake Az. A very much awake Az with a black eye and split lip.

The nervousness disappears and worry replaces it. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"You should see Cass."

I stare at him, unsure what to do now.

"What are you doing here?" he asks with that loving tone.

"I-.. I can't stop thinking." I decide to tell him.

"Do you want to come in?" he already steps aside.

I nod and walk inside as he closes the door. His familiar smell fills my nose. What was I doing...

Azriel sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him.

I sit down and he immediately grabs my hand.

"Why do you do that?" I ask without thinking, remembering Nesta's words.

I look at Azriel's stunned face.

"Because.." he doesn't seem to progress his own words. "Because I want to be close to you."

There is actually tension between us and I hate it. This doesn't feel nice.

"Is that what best friends do?" I ask him.

He looks down at our intertwined hands. "Maybe some, but.."

"But what?"

He sighs, but not in a irritated way. "I like touching you. I like being near you. I like your presence and the way you talk. And I just overall love you."

I stare at him. "Like.. Like what? A friend?"

"No, I love you. Not in a friend way." he finally says.

Even though it was my plan to confess, he did it before I got the chance.

He notices the way my face falls. Worry takes over his features. "I'm sorry if I ruined--"

"I love you too. I love you so much." I remove my hands from his and place them against his face. "You have no idea how much I love you and how much I've loved you for years."

He laughs, his eyes slightly glistening with tears. "You have no idea how loved you make me feel. Even as a friend, you saved me."

He pulls my body closer to his, leaning in to kiss me. I gladly let him, pressing my lips against his.

He pulls me on his lap, and as we kiss, something snaps.

I pull my face away from him, looking at him. I didn't have to look twice to see if he really felt that too.

"Mate." I whisper.

"You're my mate." Azriel says softly.

[ragingbookdragon]

Hanging By A Moment

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 940 Warnings: None

Author's Note: I love TF so much. I miss it all lol -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ironhide:

“This is…different,” she notes as she arrives into the darkened field; the veil of the moon blankets the land in an ivory haze, yet Ironhide’s sleek body is visible from even the edge. It’s remote enough that they don’t have to worry about being seen; she nears him with a curious look on her face. “Ironhide?”

His tailgate lowers and with a surprised expression that quickly gives way to a pleasant smile, she climbs onto the back, kicks her shoes off, and lays down on the makeshift bedding, resting her head on the pillow.

“Did you do this all for me?” she asks. “Aren’t you so sweet underneath all that firepower.”

“Have to treat my best girl, don’t I?” Ironhide teases back. “You’ve been working awfully hard lately. Even I know to take a break once in a while.”

She hums and curls into the blankets, almost feeling like they’re keeping warm and toasty. “No rest for the wicked, Ironhide. The Decepticons won’t wait while I rest.”

He grumbles, deep and low, and she can’t help but laugh. “Then you’ll rest, and I’ll kick ass.”

“Okay, bud,” she jokes, resting her head back on the pillow. “Take care of me while I rest.”

***

Rachet:

“When I said I wanted to spend some time alone with you, Rachet…this isn’t necessarily what I meant.”

His frame rumbles as he slows to a stop on the side of the canyon. “I can turn around, if you’d like?”

“You better not,” she warns and points a finger at the steering wheel. “You promised to take me out to the stars.”

She can hear the smile in his hum as he starts driving again. “When you mentioned you’ve always wanted to see the stars up close, I figured this would be the best I could give you.” He shifts back the roof, and her eyes widen at the expanse of bright stars above her.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, unable to help but stand up in the front seat, rising out of the rooftop. “Rachet, it’s…it’s incredible.”

He slows to a stop at the edge and stills. “It’s almost as incredible as you are. But somehow, their brightness can’t even come close to how beautiful you shine.”

Slipping back into the seat, she reaches forward and gently presses her lips to his steering wheel. “Thank you, Rachet. For doing this for me…for us.”

***

Bumblebee:

It’s almost one AM by the time they make it back into the city. Eerily enough, the roads are almost empty, and Bumblebee has a straight shot back to the facility, but he passes the particular highway that leads to it.

She notices from her sleepy haze in the passenger seat. “Bee? You missed the turn.”

He makes a noise that she recognizes as his answer of “Yes.”

“Where are we going?” she’s not worried in the slightest, knows that Bumblebee wouldn’t ever take her somewhere she could get hurt; she’s still curious though.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voiceover from a TV show filters through and she snorts tiredly.

“Alright, Bee, keep your secrets.” She shifts in his seat and reclines back, unable to help but trace the threading in the console. “You takin’ me home, Bee?”

“Take me home tonight!” he sings, and she smiles, gently shutting her eyes as the streetlights still shine across her face as they pass between shadows.

“I’m happy, Bee,” she murmurs. “You know that? I’m always happy with you.”

He’s silent for a long while and she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her, but it doesn’t bother her as she curls up in the passenger seat and begins to drift off, only to hear quietly through the speakers, “I’m living for the only thing I know. I’m running and not quite sure where to go. And I don’t know what I’m diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you.”

***

Optimus:

“Sorry about the rain, Optimus,” she murmurs as they take shelter in the rundown warehouse. “I can’t imagine it’s going to let up…we’ll be here for a while.”

She watches as steam begins to flow from his body, fans in his processors blowing until the water is simply droplets here and there.

“That’s handy,” she jokes, and he meets her gaze with a smile.

“While rust isn’t a big a worry to myself as it is Ironhide, I’d rather not take any chances.”

She nods and takes off her jacket, wringing it out. “It’ll be dark soon. We should set up a perimeter.” The echoing of his transformation sounds in the warehouse, and she looks up. “Optimus?” His door opens and closes a few times until she gets the hint to climb in.

As she enters, the cab opens, and she slips further inside. It’s smaller than she imagined, given that outside he’s much larger but she assumes he’s somehow made some room for her. It’s a small bedding, smaller than a door, but enough that she can curl up on it, propping her arm under her head. She’s about to say it’s cold when the fans blow again and fill the cab with a warmth that feels like she wrapped herself in a blanket straight out of the drier.

And he knows it too as he asks, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs and scoots back until her back is against the wall of his cab; it feels good to have him at her back, safe and secure. “I think I could lie here forever.”

“When there is peace, my spark,” he says. “We will lie forever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” and she knows his words ring with truth.

[deathbxnny]

"The sun always comes back in the morning." | Arlecchino x Wife!Fem!Reader

Please refer to my Genshin Masterlist in my Navigation Masterlist under Arlecchino's name for the previous parts of this, as I can't tag them for some reason.

Woo... man, this is the finale of a truly great series that I'm almost sad to see go... but I hope you guys will enjoy this and thank you once again for X Anon for their important and phenomenal contributions to our little community! (Read their ask HERE.)

Anyways... buckle in, because this may hurt. (I cried whilst making this ngl lmao)

Content: Bitter sweet ending?, doomed Yuri, wlw, wife reader, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, sfw

Reader is afab and has she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"Are you... sure about this, Mother?"

Lyney breathed out after a long, deafening pause. The flickering flames of the fireplace illuminated the room and filled the silent gaps between his barely audible words. His two siblings sat at his sides on the couch, bodies stiff and rigid, faces illuminated by the merciful warmth of the fire whilst their hearts ran cold.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? Everyone knew it would happen eventually. They were just too scared to face the truth, wanting so desperately to disillusion themselves than to to see what was really happening.

And you couldn't help but smile at that knowingly, the corners of your lips shaking. You made them this way. You hid the truth from them for so long. Selfishness was never a part of you. It was their well-being and feelings you always put first.

But it was time for the truth.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Freminet was the one to break first. The tears came flooding in, his body shaking uncontrollably whilst he keeled over into the embrace of his trembling hands. His soft sobbing filled the room, but the other two stayed strong, eyes focused and unmoving.

But the pain... oh, the pain.

It was unbearable, and your heart broke at the sight, but you knew this was right. It was time to finally reveal everything. To show your cards and tricks, allow them to see behind the curtains of your perfectly crafted play. You knew better than to believe that they didn't know at this point, after all. Not after what happened just a week ago.

The tension was thick and suffocating, the rest of the children in the house picking up on it and drowning in it knowingly. The end was near. Doom was coming. And no one could stop you now.

"And none of you are at fault for it."

Lyney took off his hat slowly, and you could see the slightest shake in his hand as he gulped down his agony. You knew he blamed himself, thinking he wasn't good enough for his Father and, therefore, the reason for your downfall. But that wasn't it. "... How could it come this far...?" He asked finally, although he knew the answer already deep down. He just had to hear it from you.

Your head turned to a nearby window, the moon shining beautifully in the night sky. What you'd do to disappear in its light than do this. "Sometimes, things such as these can happen when you ignore the early warning signs of a catastrophe... it was... always destined to fail." Lynette sunk into the cushions further as though to escape from your words and reality itself. But she heard every word and understood. She always did. "This is simply how life is, however. We both always had different views and opinions on everything. We... never saw eye to eye. That's ultimately the reason as to why I have decided to do this, children."

More silence, that was filled with Freminet trying to get himself together whilst Lyney closed his eyes in defeat. He knew the consequences of a divorce from his father. They all did. And that may even have hurt them more than it hurt you. But it was alright. They will get through this. Somehow. Gently patting his brother's back, he sighed softly.

"We understand, Mother. As much as it pains us." Tears burned in your eyes, and even then, did you not break. Your children should see your strength and follow it, as they always did. Ultimately, your sacrifices and love for them weren't entirely for nothing. You had raised them into good, kind children. Something your wife couldn't stand at times due to seeing softness as weakness. But you didn't care anymore and prayed they'd keep that part of you in them forever. Even just out of spite.

You nodded and stood up, your shadow casting largely over their sunken and weakened frames as you made your way to the door. They knew what would come next. And it made Lynette finally speak up, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you... had another chance at life... what would you be?" You turned your head and smiled again, nearly chuckled too. You understood what she was asking, as out of place it may have seemed to be.

Your eyes met the moon again and then mountains in the distance. A childish wish came back to mind, one you buried when you took on your role as the "Mother." When all there was, was you and Clervie dreaming of a life beyond the stale walls of your prison. Neither of you ever escaped them in the end, you realised grimly now.

"... I'd be an adventurer traveling endlessly through all of Teyvat... yes, I think that's what I'd be."

You left the room with those haunting words, your gaze focused on the walls and hallways of your home as you walked to where you needed to go next. You've spent years in this house, putting your own blood, sweat, and tears into all of your endless hard work. Your reward was dead children and an endless graveyard to fill. And for what? Was love really all that held you here? Who were you beyond your role as the mother? Who were you as a singular human? Clervie's shadow was haunting you, watching you from the corner of your eyes in the stead of cruel mother. She'd rest once you did. She promised that.

And it was time for you to do just that at last.

The Knave prided herself in being extremely insightful.

She had eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing ever came as a surprise to her. But you... you were the exception. She never knew what came next or what was going on in your mind ultimately. She could only guess your suffering by the endless tears you've shed and the painful fire that burned in your eyes. Yet it never went further than that.

A fatal mistake, she realised grimly.

Was it too late to fix it now? She didn't know. This was the one thing she couldn't plan for nor predict. For once, you had the power in your hands. You never did before. And it secretly irked her more than she liked to admit. But the near panic and sorrow that surged in her usually cold heart overrid the annoyance and replaced it with something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Dread.

So much dread.

Is this what doom felt like? Is this what it felt like to lose? She hated it. She hadn't felt it in so long. She couldn't stand it! But it was her fault. Peruere understood that. Yet Arlecchino was still in denial. She refused to believe that this was it. There had to be a way to fix it. There just had to. You always forgave her for everything. You knew how she was when you married her and even before then did you never shy away from her demeanor.

Couldn't you understand that the Harbinger had no choice to be this way?

Arlecchino's confidence crumbled as fast as it came, when she saw you calmly sitting there on your once shared bed, the peaceful acceptance in your eyes soul crushing. She wasn't a fool. She understood. She really did. But it didn't mean that she couldn't try to-

"Sit down."

Your voice steady and calm, as though you weren't about to end everything. She obliged, however, visibly unmoved and unbothered as always, but you knew her too well. Peruere could never hide from you.

Sitting down on the nearby vanity chair, she crossed her legs and waited for you to speak. She had to fight for you now more than ever. She... she had to do something. She was losing you. She- "-Do you remember when we used to sneak out at night to see the moon?" She didn't respond. "I remember it well. Those were the small moments of freedom I starved for... a freedom I always starved for. We all did. And for a moment, we thought we had finally escaped for good, didn't we? For a while, we believed we had done better. We had become better."

The tears in your eyes finally betrayed you, and you didn't know why. Was it the reality that was finally dawning on you? Or the heartbreak you knew would be much greater than you could ever handle? You didn't know, but it didn't make you stop talking. The words flowed out of your mouth, the damn finally breaking after so many damned years.

"We never got out of that cage, Peruere. You have become it instead. We never had a chance from the start, and I... cannot do this anymore. I can't stand the ghost of the past haunting me. I can only take so much. I just wanted to see the moon for all of eternity with you and Clervie and yet-" A crack in your voice, a sob escaping your throat. You were overwhelmed by the emotions that ran through you. There were so many of them. Sorrow, grief, sadness... relief. So much relief.

"-We never got out. We have become what we hate the most. And I refuse to be a parf of this llay any longer. My children deserve to feel the breeze as they spread their wongs and fly out of this hell, even if I have to fall for it first." Then came the rage. It was scorching and hot. "For all the ones that have been injured. For all the ones that died. For all the ones I had to bury with my own two hands. They all deserve better. We all did."

Tears ran down your face, fire burned in your eyes, and rage made your body tremble. Arlecchino could just watch you in disbelief. She had never seen you this way. Not once in her life... what was this feeling? Was it loss? Was she losing?

"... It's over. It will all end now." You stood up and carefully presented the papers to her. Papers she had never thought of ever having to see or sign. Silence filled the room, aside from your labored breathing and the clicking of a clock on the wall.

And then she spoke for the first time. "... You... understand that you will have to leave if you do this?" She saw the muscles on your neck tighten, more tears welling in your eyes. "You were right all along, if it makes you feel better... I was never made to be the "Mother." I'm a weak disgrace of one... but I've accepted that a long time ago. I have raised my children to my best abilities, and I'm proud of it until the very end. My image will haunt you in their eyes and their hearts for the rest of your life. I will never leave."

When she looked up at you, then you saw the woman you married years ago appear again for the first time in years. "I... you..." She was speechless. She was actually speechless and powerless for the first time in her life. You just stared down at her, not backing down.

Your decision has been made. And Peruere realised then what her last action of her love for you had to be then. She had to open the gate to the cage. Even if that meant that the bird would never come back.

"... Very well, my love. As you wish." She said as she took the papers from your shaking hands.

The docks to the Aquabuses were always busy, as people rushed to get on and off the vehicles. You often had passed by them and wondered what it must've felt like to travel far away from here. The envy you felt for the foreign passengers that disappeared over the swell of the horizon was one you had always pushed away... until now, as you wanted on your own bus out for the first time in your life.

Clutching a simple leather suitcase in one hand, you turned to look at your children with a pained smile. "This... is my stop, I believe." You said gently, the morning breeze rustling through your clothes and hair. Lyney took off his hat and nodded at that with a sigh, the acceptance grim in all of their eyes. But they were happy deep down. Relieved that at least you got to get out before things got much worse. Maybe one day they'll find the courage to do the same. Not today. Not tomorrow, either.

But one day.

The Knave hadn't come along to say goodbye, but you didn't mind. It was fitting in a way. No goodbyes were needed. You had given her your inner farewell a long time ago.

Once the older two siblings took their turns to hug you tightly, it was Freminets turn. His lip was trembling, his eyes red from the many tears he had shed. But he had one last mission to fullend. A small form of rebellion. "Take this and drink it once you're on the Aquabus. It will give you strength for your travels, Mother." He said as he pressed a small vial of familiar liquid and a folded paper into your palm. You stared down at it knowingly, and Lyney closed his eyes painfully at the sight of it. You all knew what the liquid did.

But you were willing to play pretend one last time.

"Thank you, my love. I'll... write you letters." They all gave you weak smiles, and you took the opportunity to press a kiss to Freminets forehead, his eyes closing with tears escaping them treacherously. Such a terrible actor, but you weren't any better either. Like Mother, like son. "Stay strong, all of you."

Stepping onto the Aquabus, you settled down as it began to pull away from the station. And only then did the three finally break down fully. You could only sit there and watch for the first time. It took all of your strength not to jump into the water and swim back to comfort them like you always did. But you knew what you had to do. Their small act of rebellion would not go to waste like this.

Once they were almost out of sight, you finally popped the vial open and hesitated as it touched your lips. You watched their small forms in the distance, tears welling in your eyes before you finally drank it. Repeating their names over and over again, you hoped to not forget them this way.

Lyney, Lynette, Freminet.

Lyney, Lynette, Freminet.

Lyney... Lynette... Freminet?

Lyn... ette... Fremi...?

.........

.......

.....

...

..

.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" The Melusine conductor asked you, making you blink in surprise and look around in confusion. "I... yes, I am fine. My apologies... I must've... zoned out." You hum carefully, your eyes spying a foreign folded piece of paper in your hand. Opening it curiously, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"The sun always comes back in the morning. -LLF"

Odd. You didn't know what it meant nor how you got here in the first place. But it felt right, either way. "I feel like I've forgotten something, though." You added on in thought. Your head hurt, and you simply used it as an explanation for your odd memory loss. Perhaps you were just tired. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

"Oh! Is it something you require urgently, ma'am? I can turn the bus back around to the station if needed!" The helpful Melusine chirped, yet you shook your head at the suggestion.

Leaning back in your seat, you watched the sun rise over the horizon. Your mind was scrambled and disoriented, but one thought prevailed against all odds. You were an... adventurer. Yeah, right, that's what you were. And you were on your way to... well, wherever the flow of your heart takes you.

"No... It's alright. I'm sure it wasn't anything important anyway."

[ominoose]

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Can't write Valentine hc's without including the romantical king himself.

V - Vase (What flowers he gets you)

The bouquet wouldn't be huge, but it wouldn't be a small, cheap one either. Steven makes sure your favourite flowers are present, with a sparkly butterfly on a stick amongst some babies breath and daises.

It's either from Tesco or a local vegan stall, depending on how late he is to the bus.

A - Affectionate (How openly affectionate is he?)

Steven is at his happiest when he can freely shower you with affection, anywhere and anytime preferably. No one respects you boundaries like Steven, you don't need to explain anything, but if you aren't averse then he'll find away to convey his love.

Hand holding is his favourite, it's simple but something that only couples do, gives him the ability to squeeze you, rub his thumb across your skin, drum his fingers if he needs a little stim.

Kissing your nose, laying a head on the other's shoulder, playing with each other's hair, any and all PDA is his hobby.

This doesn't really change much with Valentines, the only new thing he does is stare at you lovingly with hearts in his eyes for minutes at a time.

L - Love Language

Words of Affirmation

As a man with the gift of the gab, it's easy for Steven to show his love by spewing it to you via his usual word vomit. This comes in the form of simple "I love you" when he's popping into the toilet, startling you by suddenly breaking a silence and telling you how beautiful you are, comparing you to his interests ("You should've seen the jewels Cleopatra wore, I mean, oh my god, she had these big scarab beetle pendants that were absolutely gorgeous - Not as beautiful as you, obviously, but-".)

E - Eat (Where and how does he dine you?)

Steven is a quaint man, his soul already that of an elderly man resting at a bus stop on a Sunday Morning. The morning starts with breakfast in bed, a classic toast and vegan scrambled egg with your hot beverage of choice and a nice lunch at the park from a local farmer stand.

Dinner is where he really shines, and perhaps almost does too much. Steven will have spent weeks on Trivago and Google Maps searching for the best restaurant to take you to, scouring the menus and pictures for one that has an atmosphere you'll like.

One downside is how long he takes faffing about with which suit to wear and getting himself out of the knot in his tie that's somehow looped around his belt.

N - Nicknames (What nicknames do you share?)

The typical British pet names make up most of his vocabulary for you, think 'Love', 'Darling', 'Sweetheart'. Occasionally he'll try and throw in something new, likely stemming from something he's interested in at the time or a show you've both watched.

When you watched Game of Thrones together (he could only sit through two seasons) he'd called you his 'Khalesi' for a week.

Sometimes it's an entire cheesy phrase, like "the stars to my moon" or something in French that he's accidentally mispronounced without realising.

The one line he won't cross is comparing you to any god(ess), for fear that comparing you to someone like Aphrodite would get you smited.

T - Tacky (How cliche is he?)

Very. Steven romanticizes romance, spending too much of his single life watching romcoms and nearly crying when he saw couples walking in the park.

He's aware of this and while he tries to hold back a bit and be more realistic most days, Valentines is when he gets to go all out.

Enchanted is a Valentine's tradition for you both, always sitting down to watch it sometime between the 13-15th, curled on the couch and singing along without a care in the world.

Once he made you sit in his lap and rest your cheek on his mouth so he could spend an entire night kissing you while he read a book. When you brought up how that would quickly grow uncomfortable, he put on his best puppy eyes and said it could be your Valentine's present to him.

I - Innovate (How did he fix a Valentines gone wrong?)

Unless you count slightly less mainstream activities like making Lego flowers together or painting matching mugs, he doesn't do anything too groundbreaking during Valentines, so if plans go south he's left scrambling a bit when thinking outside the box.

This is made up by the fact that he's always a listener, sitting with rapt attention to your needs and whatever feelings you can communicate. You tell him what you need, he's getting it done in record time. You can't quite word your wants, he'll try his best to match up what you need with what you're saying.

N - Naughty

Ideally, Valentines end in some very intimate and slow sex, full of soulful eye contact, slow kissing and reverent touches. It's much less about getting off and more about doing something that you can only do with each other, a private little world under the covers where you bare your hearts.

He's more than fine if you aren't up for that, or want something different. As long as he gets to at-least cuddle with you in bed, his Valentines closes with a happy ending.

E - Ending (How does he wrap up Valentines day?)

In bed. Doing what? Doesn't matter. Playing Scrabble, watching Peter Rabbit, discussing the fall of capitalism, having some toast, it's all the same to Steven. The one thing he wants is to be snug as a bug under the covers with you, legs touching blanket up to his chin.

No matter how the day has went, if he can come home to you, he's got the world.

S - Song

British classic that he thinks is cheeky and fun, probably what he dances around the kitchen to while he makes your breakfast in bed, thinking himself suave.

[frxxxncx]

happy birthday - c. seungcheol

»idol!¡Choi Seungcheol x fem!¡reader.

»Summary: It´s midnight and you´re alone in your apartment for your birthday.

»Tags: smut (MDNI), oral (f. receiving), cunnilingus, pet names, establish relationship, idolau, fingering, countertop oral(?, body worship, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, reader is mention to have her ears pierced, seungcheol is strong af.

»Words: 1.4k (idk)

note: i feel like as much as Cheol likes people to congratulate him on his birthday, he would try his best to do the same for his partner, idk, it was my birthday like three days ago and i just miss him so much ;c

note 2: Any typo or incoherence that you might find was completely intentional, it’s for the sake of learning about my mistakes.

Your hair tickled on the back of your neck, the soft air of the night making it dance on your skin.

In this particularly cold night, you looked at the moon with a solemn expression in your face, you were sitting in the balcony... alone, with the big and shining sphere who has always been the witness of your bittersweet nights filled in loneliness, but also bystander of those you spent with company.

The memories of his warm body beside you, tugging you into a warm hug seem very distant, like they have been only a long and wonderful dream.

You closed your eyes trying to imagine your boyfriend being there, his hoarse voice congratulating you for your birthday as soon as the clock hits midnight like he always used to do.

Filling your face with kisses and caressing your body with softness, but he wasn't there.

It's been four months since the last time you saw him, his schedule always filled to the brim, presentations, concerts, interviews, flights, pre-recording, you didn't know what to do, you talk all the time, texts, calls, FaceTime, but it's not enough, it's just to little of him for you.

You hugged yourself and the clock rang announcing midnight.

"Happy birthday to me" you said while an uncontrollable tear slipped through your reddened cheek.

You got up, and palmed the dirt of your shirt to get inside the apartment. Dragging your feet, you threw yourself in your bed, crashing into the mattress, hurting your back with the tv controller that was laying there before.

You took the controller from behind your back, to settle in the bed hugging your pillow tightly, arching your back making your shirt -your boyfriend's shirt- lift.

"Fuck, what a nice view" the velvety yet masculine voice of your boyfriend rang in your ears, and startled you sat in your bed.

There he was, standing in the door frame, with a big box of chocolates, a bottle of wine and a cute bouquet of your favourite flowers. His pearly smile lighted the gloominess in the room, making your heart flutter.

"Happy birthday, baby" he said sweetly but with an apologetic smile, maybe thinking you were upset by his tardiness.

You wanted to cry big time, you were certain that he was extremely tired from his rehearsals, but yet you were so happy that he took the time to come.

Euphoric you got out of bed, running to him and jumping on his arms, pinning your legs on his hips and locking your arms in his neck. Seungcheol, was in a tough position, his arms were full with the gifts and now you were clinging onto him like a tick, he has to admit it, his core balance is pretty sick.

Your face rested in the crock of his neck and the woody smell stroke your nostrils, and with that you were sure that him being there was not a dream.

You raised your face, his eyes were like two shining stars and his sweet smile almost made you melt in his arms. With his hands still very occupied, he managed to hug you back and give a loud kiss on your temple.

"I missed you so much" he whispered in your ear, his soft lips caressing your earlobe sending shivers down your spine.

A chill ran down your body making you tighten your grip on his neck.

"I missed you too, Cheolie"

Seungcheol, who was somehow still lifting you, got out of the room and went straight to the kitchen, putting everything in place, the chocolates in the table, the flowers in the pot and the wine, well, the wine in the wine fridge. When his hands were free he decided to sit you in the aisle in the middle of the kitchen.

Your legs and arms untangled from his figure, but he didn't move an inch, with your legs on each side of his hips, he started to leave kisses in the soft skin of your neck, sweet kisses in the freckles of your shoulders, but biting and sucking your collarbone.

His black shirt which you were using was starting to get in the way and quickly he got rid of it. He admired your bare chest, your beautiful and delicate skin, your breasts that fit in his hands just perfectly.

He kept kissing your skin while his hands were now fondling your breast enjoying the soft moans that escaped your mouth. A loud whimper dance away from your mouth, when his lips started to give pecks at your breasts.

He missed you so much, he just wanted you to touch you, draw your whole body with his fingers, engrave every curve of your body in his memory.

The tips of his fingers were now caressing your thighs doing imaginary figures, stroking with care. His kisses got to the base of your stomach, your fingers were starting to curl thrilled.

"God, you're so perfect" he whispered against your belly, making you shiver.

Your hands squeezed tightly the edge of the isle, knuckles whitening at the action and almost losing feeling in your fingers. You laid, your body suddenly feeling heavy, a whine slipped from your lips as Seungcheol’s fingers ran over your clotted cunt, just a little caress over your clothes making you shiver, not even directly and still it felt so good.

He tugged with his thumbs in the elastic of your underwear, stroking faintly with his fingers the journey to your ankles, making your skin burn exquisitely.

Now with your underwear long forgotten in some dark corner of the kitchen, Seungcheol's fingers travelled through the inside of your thighs once again.

As his digits got closer and closer to your core, he stopped, gripping the soft flesh of your legs tightly, making you moan.

Seungcheol put his rough palms in your knees, and testing your flexibility he pushed as much as he could without hurting you, his eyes travelled from your eyes to your cunt, licking his lips at the stirring view, your core sopping in your arousal.

His breath was hot against your wet and puffy lips, how was it even possible for you to feel this worked up when you haven't even started yet?, you were eager to know what was about to come next.

Like two petals the kisses were soft and silky, lips dancing skilfully on your cunt, making you chant his name in an obscene mantra, he drank till the last drop of your arousal, like it was one of his favourite wines.  

His tongue strokes over your sex, drawing fat strips with the hot muscle, enjoying your exquisite flavour like a starving man, but also pleased for being able to make you moan just like a porn star.

You could feel his hot tongue inside of you, his nose bumping with your clit, making your toes curl, you are not sure if it is because you love him so much, but Seungcheol is just so fucking good at giving you head, he knew where to touch, where to suck, he knows your body like the palm of his hand and that makes you even wetter.

And when he pressed his big hand onto your belly you felt how the coil that has been building up started to erupt, like firework exploiting inside of you, and when your orgasm washed you over, he drank it all, leaving you a trembling mess, receiving more pleasure from hearing you become such a mess just from giving you head, ignoring completely the hard on pressing painfully against his jeans.

His blonde hair felt soft against your thighs, when he lifted his face to looked at you, you could help but let a pathetic cry slip your mouth, his lips were bright red and glossy, chin covered in your arousal, he was panting, expression denoting adoration, making your heart melt in the spot.

His eyes looked at you lovingly, his tongue licking what it could from your excitement from his lips, his face got close to yours, lips kissing your earlobe feeling the cold metal of your piercing in his lips.

"I love you"

Your chest tightened, happiness overflowing your body, you stole a soft and innocent kiss from Seungcheol, making him laugh.

"I love you too"

"Happy birthday"

"Well now I'll go get your present" he got up and started to walk towards the door but you were confused.

"Wait" you said and he stopped in the door frame to look at you with a smile, head tilted to the side "My presents weren't the chocolates, the wine and the flowers?" the disorientation in your voice was obvious.

"No, that was just a small gift" he furrowed his eyebrows still smiling, yet his expression was showered in disbelief "Do you think I'm broke or something?"

[schrodingers-romy]

You Don’t Gotta Hold Me Down, Baby (I Know How to Sink) [Shidou Ryusei x Reader]

Pairing: Shidou Ryusei x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1800 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Ryusei is used to feeling empty at the end of the day; at least, until he has you.

Warnings: crying, some light depression i think from shidou, kisses, reader and ryusei are both lonely and weird idk what to tell you, no gendered pronouns/terms used for reader, gratuitous petnames, some innuendo but nothing sexual/heated happens

Notes: I read in the character book line where he 'cries at the end of the day when he becomes nothing' and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I sincerely hope it's in character but idk. I love him anyways tho and I had fun writing this <3 Title is a lyric from RELAX AFTER WORK WITH A DRINK by Lilyisthatyou.

At the end of the day, Shidou Ryusei becomes nothing.

During the day, lit by the radiance of the sun, he was something. He was in control of his own destiny, a daredevil chasing the high of the next explosion. Whether that explosion came from kicking a soccer ball or kicking some slime’s face in was irrelevant; it was the rush of endorphins it gave him that was important. He was in peak form, the predator at the top of the food chain, devouring the opportunities the world had gifted him, glutting himself on whatever adrenaline high presented itself. But it never lasted; the explosive energy he had faded to nothing at the end of the day, pleasure slipping through his fingers like smoke in the wind, escaping him with the escaping daylight. After sunset, he was left empty, void of any sort of vitality; like a combustion engine with no fuel to light, he was left stiff, and cold, and useless. Forgotten.

He didn't even bother trying to stay up much past sunset, most days. Even with the sun’s lingering warmth rising from the earth during the night, it was always too cold for him, without the light shining on him. He was a photosynthetic organism, relying on sunlight to create his own sustenance in the form of his explosions.

Ryusei liked to think that the faster he went to sleep, the faster he would see the sun again.

It even worked, sometimes.

But sometimes it didn't. Sometimes he lay there for hours, too tired to do anything, and too tired to sleep. It was a bone-deep exhaustion, one that made his joints ache dully, and his eyes stay stuck open, as tears dripped freely down from them onto the thin and faded material of his pillowcase. Those nights, he desperately waited for the sun to return, so he could come back to life. So he could go back to seeking some way to make himself feel. And maybe he would be lucky enough to somehow make his mark on the world, so he would no longer fade from it every night like a mirage.

But he hadn’t made a mark on the world yet. He had yet to make something of himself.

So, at night, Shidou Ryusei would cry as he became nothing.

-

You were both a particular brand of lonely.

Something in the both of you had noticed each other; like calling to like. You were too close for people who had known each other for such a short period of time; it would be concerning, if either of you cared. But you didn’t, so you spent your days attached at the hip. Gorging yourselves on the attention of the other, desperate creatures starved for the acknowledgement and understanding that you had only ever found in each other.

It wasn’t an understanding borne of explicit conversation; the two of you had discussed almost everything under the sun and moon, but you both excelled at skirting the razor’s edge of baring your issues fully. Whether it was because neither of you understood your own mind yourself, or because some sort of animal instinct in you just understood each other without having to spill the gore of your worst feelings, it was unclear. It didn’t really matter, anyways. You were two sides of the same corroded coin, two pieces of a defective puzzle that could only ever fit together.

-

It was past midnight, and you were exhausted. The noise from the television was nothing more than the canned background hum to Ryusei's presence. The true focus of the scene was his flickering gaze and the hot press of his thighs against yours. You were sitting so close you could nearly count every single one of his numerous blond lashes. The shadows they cast on his cheeks were hypnotizing to you, and you found yourself leaning into him, with a combination of your own sleepiness and the dizzy, floaty sensation you always felt when you were this close to him casting you off balance. You could not help yourself from leaning further in, until you were falling into him. Your cheek landed pressed onto the warmth of his exposed collarbone, where his oversized shirt collar had slipped down to reveal tanned skin. You let out a heavy sigh, nuzzling into him, as he wrapped his arms around you to pull you ever closer to his heated body.

“Tired, babes?” he asked, the uncharacteristic deep, slow tone to his voice betraying his own sleepiness.  

“Mhmm hmm,” you mumbled. “Too tired to go home. I’m staying here tonight.”

With anyone else, you wouldn’t have been so bold as to invite yourself to stay the night for the first time. But everything was different with Ryusei. You could be as bold as you wanted, take what you wanted, without fear of ridicule or rejection or anger. He would just give you a particular feral grin, when you asserted yourself, that made you feel confident and on top of the world.

It’s only because you’re so close that you felt the slight hitch in his breath. He covered it nearly seamlessly with his usual attitude. “Of course! I’d love to have you spend the night with me, sexy~”

You nipped lightly at his collar bone, chastising. “Just sleeping, Ryu, no innuendo intended.”

“Aww, how can you say that, after putting your teeth on me,” he whined, teasing. “You know that gets me going, sugar…”

“I want you to get going. To sleep,” you retorted. “I’m tiredddd.” You let your voice trail into a childish whine.

“Can’t have that, can we?” Ryusei shifted, sliding one arm underneath your thighs and one behind your back to lift you up into a bridal carry. “Do I have Your Highness’s permission to take you to bed? I promise not to have my wicked way with you there. Knight’s honor.”

“Ah, why would I not trust my most loyal knight? Take me away, good sir.”

Ryusei grinned wide enough to show gums, before carrying you out of the living room with surprising gentleness.

(Though it wasn’t entirely surprising, to you.)

-

The room was dark, aside from the weak, silvered light of the moon and stars that leaked from Ryusei’s uncovered window. It was just bright enough for you to see the faintest details of his face.

He looked softer, hair down, kohl washed away, venomous pink eyes half-lidded; a sort of physical representation of how he bared himself to you. You were compelled to pull him closer to you, until you could bury your face into his product-free hair. You let out a contented hum at feeling the abnormal silkiness of it.

You were so comfortable; you felt like you were melting into the mattress. It had been forever since you had gone to sleep feeling so relaxed (and safe, and not alone); you couldn’t be blamed for nearly drifting off the second you laid down with Ryusei in your arms.

You were almost gone, slipping into dreamland by the pull of the gentle hands of Morpheus, when you felt Ryusei begin to tremble in your arms.

It was like a switch had been flipped, removing sleep from the edges of your mind like the swipe of an eraser on a chalkboard. You were immediately focused on him.

“Ryusei? Are you okay?” you whispered, a sliver of panic slipping into your voice.

You could feel him shaking slightly in your hold, arms wrapped in a vice grip around you, face pressed tightly into your neck, hiding his expression from you. You felt a drip of wetness fall onto your skin and slip down.

He was crying.

“Baby,” you murmured, hugging his lax body even closer to yours, like you could tuck him away into your ribcage, safe and sound. “Ryu, darling, what’s wrong?” You felt off-balance, perhaps for the first time since you had met. Your understanding did not extend to this, not when he had so carefully pirouetted around any true pain he felt when you talked.

He gripped you tighter for a moment, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, before he relaxed his hold. “Nothin’s wrong.” He lifted his head to look at you.

The tear trails on his face were lit up like liquid drips of mercury in the moonlight. But he didn’t look devastated, as you expected; instead, he had the smallest, softest smile you had ever seen him wear. Even in the half-light, his gaze was soaked in so much affection, he looked love-drunk. It rendered you speechless.

“Y’know,” he laughed wetly, “I usually cry, at night. When I become nothing.” He took a deep, shuddering breath.

You lifted one hand to his face, wiping away the fresh flow of tears that leaked from his glittering eyes. Your eyebrows were creased, a pang going through your heart at his words.

But he wasn’t done, pausing only to nuzzle his cheek further into your hand, like a housecat. “Still cryin’, tonight, but I’m not sad. Y’see babes? I’m not sad. I don’t feel like nothing, I feel happy. Happy tears, sweetheart, just cause tonight I’m with you.” He giggled, hiccupping slightly as his laughter caught on the tears still welling up.

You gaped at Ryusei for a moment, before you yanked him into a kiss. It wasn’t the best kiss ever, still wet with his tears, barely more than a firm press of mouths together before you release him.

He grinned at you for a moment, before dropping back down onto you, boneless. “I feel drunk. Like I’m high. Crossfaded. On you, babe!~” he blabbered, sing-song. “It’s not an explosion, it’s a bonfire inside of me! Shit, this might be better than playing. Or fighting. I might even be a little horny right now, I can’t tell.”

“God, you’re so weird, Ryu.” You punctuated your statement with a firm kiss to his forehead, making an exaggerated ‘mwah’ sound that drew a giggle from the man on top of you. “I love you. I’m gonna be with you forever. I’ll move in, and we’ll sleep together every night, you’ll never feel like nothing again.”

“Maybe I AM horny…horny off of love…emotionally horny?” he rambled. “Fuck, I don’t know, babe, but I love you too, and I’m never gonna let your pretty ass go now, y’hear?”

“Perfect. We’ll become one organism. Symbiosis. Like lichen,” you breathed.

Ryusei let out a lovesick sigh. “Love it when you talk sexy to me.”

You felt one of his hands drift down to squeeze one of your ass cheeks.

You let out an exasperated, but fond sigh. “Ryusei. Go to sleep.”

“Okay honey~” he said, letting out a little giggle into your collarbone.

(And for the first time in years, neither of you fell asleep feeling empty, or lonely; and you would wake up to find joy in the sunrise together.)

[hannahluvsbillie]

causal.

pairing: billie x reader

a/n: this is my first time writing a blurb like this! sorry if it’s lowkey messy and confusing, let me know if it is 😓. i came up with this idea half awake at 1 am and i thought i’d post it here!! ok bye im talking too much

warnings: none (maybe angst if you squint)

“this’ll be casual right?”

billie says, looking into your eyes. the moon shining through the windshield of her car, giving the car a type of lighting that can’t be recreated, especially as it’s shining on her.

you nod. you’ll regret nodding in the later months. when everything doesn’t feel casual. especially these car rides you two have. where she picks you up, then somehow you two end up in the backseat, her between your legs, praising you like your the only woman that really matters to her.

“yeah. causal.” you say under your breath.

billie just nods, smile still lingering on her face as she backs up out of the parking spot and starts to drive back to your apartment.

i tried to be the cool girl that holds her tounge and gives you space.

you and billie were driving, again. it’s become a weekly routine of yours. she picks you up, then she drives to nowhere in specific. then you end up in a parking lot, in the back seat. every. time.

suddenly, her phone lights up. out of pure instinct you look down at it, seeing a DM from instagram. you immediately recognize the username, that’s the girl you saw in her following. it was almost like the username lit up with red light to you.

billie glances over and sees you looking down at her phone, she casually puts her hand over the phone and flips it over to where you couldn’t see it. of course she’s hiding it from you.

whatever, it wasn’t like you two where exclusive. no matter how much you wished you two were, it would never happen.

a few weeks later, you two where in the same spot. the same thing happened. her phone lit up with the same username.

it may of been the lack of sleep you got last night, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“who’s that?” you say softly, glancing up at billie.

“hm?” she hums, her hand resting on your thigh. she looks down at her phone and if you weren’t staring at her, you wouldn’t of seen it. but the slightest bit of anxiety crosses her face.

“oh, just some girl.” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing.

she does the same thing she did last time, and the time before last. she flips her phone over.

“are yall two… like a thing?” you say softly, your voice dripping with anxiety.

“don’t worry about it mama.” she says, looking over at you for a split second.

you wanted to chuck her phone out the window at that moment, irritated by her causal response.

you take a deep breath, this could either lead to another argument or to just a brush off response from her. deep down you hoped for the latter.

“how many girls do you talk to bills?” you say, your tone comes off annoyed. your true emotions showing.

her hand grips your thigh just a bit harder, and her eyebrows raised at your tone.

“whys it matter?”

“we aren’t exclusive.” she says the last sentence under her breath.

that last sentence felt like she just stabbed you in the chest. even though you knew deep down that was the truth, you had found yourself believing a false reality, that maybe she did want more with you. that you could be her one and only.

“oh- i was just wondering.” you say, sounding small. she always had a way to make you feel like you were in the wrong.

but no, it was all just a game to her. your just another one of the girls she talks to. you always will be to her.

[plutoswritingplanet]

am I the only sour cherry on your fruit stand? (Derek Hale x Female!Reader)

a/n: I have no expanation, other than me and my partner are rewatching Teen Wolf together, and I really wanted to write some filth

Warnings: Carpet Munching (ha), Enemies to Lovers except not really enemies to not really lovers, Full Moon Shenanigans, Shotgunning,

Summary: It's a constant dance between you and Derek. You hate him, he's supposed to hate you. He wants you in his pack, you want him to leave your brother the hell alone. Either way, the full moon always brings out the darkest of truths to the surface.

MASTERLIST

Your body is so cold.

An overwhelming feeling of a slow, creeping chill climbs through your veins. Breath coming out in quick, sharp gasps, you lay frozen on the wooden floor, the charred and twisted presence of the Hale house looming over you. The broken roof stares at your form, laughing mockingly at your predicament, as the floorboards greedily soak up your blood. As if they try to eat the very essence, suck the marrow from your bones. 

You can feel it leaving your body. A steady, crimson stream, dripping out like a broken faucet, your vision blurring with each drop. And, by God, does it hurt. It hurts like nothing you've ever felt. You've been hurt before, of course. Throughout your life, you've suffered injuries big and small, but this... Nothing could prepare you for the sharp, burning sensation spreading throughout you, frayed nerve endings screaming for help. You'd take a broken bone any day, instead of this. 

The bullet went right through the side of your stomach. A last hurrah on Kate Argent's part, as she pulled the trigger blindly, right before her throat was ripped out. She's in here somewhere, as well. Her lifeless body staring at you with unseeing eyes. Some twisted sense of ancient justice, her dying in this house. The Hale family has finally gotten their revenge. You'll join the Hunter soon enough. Perhaps this is your punishment for being unnecessarily rude to Derek. 

Just another soul claimed by this cursed place, about to join the tally. Innocent? No, that's for sure not the case. You could be called many things, but innocent wasn't one. Hell, some people wouldn't even call you good. But if there's anything you've got going for you, it's you're loyal. Which, is the sole reason you've landed in this situation, in the first place. You're loyal to your fucking grave. 

Someone grabs your hand, the back of your head cradling it softly, you can feel shar points of a clawed hand scratching lightly at your scalp. Through the fog of darkness, you can see your baby brother. Tears gather in his eyes, and despite your sorry state, you can't shake the instinct to make it better. To somehow protect him from the pain of your own imminent passing. Like you've always done, combining your efforts with your mother, and keeping all the monsters away. Shining a proverbial flashlight under the bed. 

"It's okay" you manage to choke out, not entirely able to recognize your voice "You'll be okay" 

Your hand shakes in his, and Scott screams for help, teeth growing into sharp fangs at the sudden crash of emotions. His eyes shine that blasted shade of yellow, as he begs for something. Anything. Your heart breaks for him. You've managed to save him from a stray bullet, but you can't do anything now. You can't protect him, and it tears you apart more than any Wolfsbane covered casing could. 

And then you see another person, looking at you through the fog.

Your heart skips a bit, although whether it's from the blood loss, or the man leaning above you, is anyone's guess. 

Red eyes bear down onto you, a calloused hand resting on your cheek, and your eyebrows furrow, as Derek Hale brings his face closer. Perhaps it's the delirium setting in, but for just a split-second, you're almost convinced his expression twists into that of concern. 

Which, given your current situation, would be warranted, if not for one simple fact, that's been hanging over the both of you, ever since your first meeting. 

You hate each other. 

Or at least, you hate him. Deeply despise everything he stands for, especially since he's been acting like a complete and utter dick to your brother, threatening him at least two times a day. And you couldn't let that slide, couldn't see the tremendous amounts of stress, he's been putting your brother through, and not react. 

"Please, Derek." your brother begs, his voice breaking, "Save her, please."

It takes you a moment, your brain is slowly, but surely being deprived of oxygen. But once the implications of your brother's words hit, a new sense of purpose floods your bones. It's not panic, not necessarily. You've always been much too calm and collected, to let yourself be drowned by fear. 

You suppose it's the curse of being the oldest sibling, this outward tranquility, mixed with boiling rage just beneath the surface. 

Derek leans down, red eyes search yours, although, you can see by the determined tick of his jaw, that he's already made his decision. For just a second, you're tempted. You don't want to die, of course you don't. And the idea of being so much stronger, more resilient, being able to protect those you love, without tearing your veins out in the process... You'd be a fool not to consider it. 

But then, you look into his red eyes, burning like coals in a dying fire, and something akin to a steel conviction settles itself over you, like a protective blanket. 

Your shaking hand rises, fingers trembling, as they slide over Derek's cheekbone. He freezes under your touch, eyes widening slightly, at the unexpected, tender contact. Your eyebrows scrunch in concentration, and he sucks in a sharp breath, as the pads of your fingers press against his mouth. 

With the last, fraying remnants of strength, you push, until you can feel his teeth through the soft plush of his lips.

"Don't..." a wheezing intake of breath rattles through your lungs, as you force yourself to focus

"Don't you fucking dare"

Derek's mouth opens, a silent gasp pushing past your fingers, and your hand falls onto the ground. 

The sudden, cold steeliness of his burning, red gaze is the last thing you remember, before waking up in Beacon Hills General Hospital, your mother and your brother at your side.

***

From that point onward, Derek's name is like a constant presence, looming over your life, whether you like it or not. And truth be told, you really, really don't like it.

Having now taken the power of the Alpha, he's become even more insufferable, if that's possible. And as such, you've decided the best course of action, was to steer clear of him, to save yourself from any more anger issues. 

After recovering from having the right side of your body obliterated by a bullet, you took time to search for a job. You've found one relatively quickly, as a waitress at a small diner right at the edge of Beacon Hills. It was such a typical, American place, filled with the smell of grease and cheap coffee. But it payed well enough, and the owner, an older woman with a warm, round face, was almost too excited by a prospect of 'fresh blood' working for her. You didn't mention, that you're not exactly 'fresh blood'. Nor did you remind her, that during your rebellious teenage phase, you used to draw graffiti over the back of her establishment.

You're not that angry, troubled teen anymore. You've dealt with it. For the most part. 

Doesn't change the fact, that every time you slip out the back entrance for your break, your eyes follow the painted over ghosts of your highschool years. Doesn't change the small, almost wistful smile, tugging at the corners of your perpetually frowning lips. You used to smile more back then. You used to be kinder.

Derek never invades your place of work, not once. Small blessings, you suppose. 

For the most part, he tries to keep his distance from you, despite the fact, that circumstances keep forcing him to work with your brother, and as such, bringing him into your orbit. 

Even the mention of his name, in passing conversation, evokes emotions you're not sure how to deal with. Because yes, you hate him. He's annoying, he's all that. But there's also this strange hint of understanding, of kinship between two born protectors. Two people, who care so deeply, in such an overwhelming manner, they have to hide behind a mask of thorns, just to keep themselves safe. 

You can't shake the feeling, that during that small interaction, where he almost made you the first addition to his pack, he saw you. He saw, what you are, every part that makes you, who you are, and understood it without a second thought. 

And you can't have that. The idea is so preposterous, so terrifying, you have to actively fight it away, everytime you even catch a whiff of his presence. 

Avoiding him goes pretty easily. You tend to stay away from the supernatural aspects of your brother's life anyways, too focused on helping your mom keeping the house afloat. Sometimes it's better not to know, and you consciously make the effort to know as little as possible. 

That is, until one evening, you exit your run down car, and see him standing right outside your house, throwing daggers at the closed door. One of his Betas, you're pretty sure his name is Boyd, stands next to him, his overgrown-for-a-teenager statue practically dwarfing Derek. The sight would be comical, if you weren't so god-damned tired, and this wasn't your house they were standing in front of. 

Turning the ignition off, you wonder for a moment, if this is worth the trouble. Perhaps a couple laps around the neighborhood would do you good. Avoiding confrontation went so well until now, you're almost mournful to end it. But then again, the gas prices are definitely more annoying, than the werewolf's presence, so you open the creaking door and leave the car.

His eyes snap to you, as the car door slams shut, and for a moment he seems almost surprised you're here. Then, his jaw tightens, as he schools his expression back to a grumpy frown, one you've come to consider synonymous with him. 

"Miss McCall" Boyd nods at you, to Derek's general displeasure, and you respond with a wave.

"I don't remember inviting you guys for dinner" you say, stopping to stand a safe distance from the two werewolves "I would've bought kibble"

A low hanging joke, you're aware, but your legs hurt from running around the diner, and your hair smells of grease, so you feel justified. 

Something sounding almost like a low grow,l grumbles deep in Derek's throat, as he tears his gaze away from the house, pinning you in place with the sheer intensity of the look he gives you. 

Boyd just looks confused.

"We're not here for you" he says, keeping his voice low and measured, although, it doesn't take a genius to gather, there's something else hidden behind his words. 

"Well good" you respond, barely keeping your eyes from rolling, your gaze landing on the kitchen window of your house. 

A soft 'huh' leaves your mouth, as something moves the curtain behind the glass. You can see quick movement inside, but before you can take a step towards the direction of your place, Derek interjects, almost hurriedly.

"Although since you're here..."

Containing an eye roll around him, should become your personal sport niche. Shooting him an unimpressed look, you cross your arms in front of your chest, and definitely ignore the way his eyes linger on the cleavage of your work uniform, which just so happens to be pushed up by the gesture. Hate is a funny thing, and you're not sure, if you can blame it for the sudden fluttering, stirring in your stomach. You're not about to dwell on it, not at all. And you're absolutely not going to dwell on the way, he wets his lips before speaking. 

Nope. Not at all. 

"I've been meaning to talk to you" he starts, after taking a deep breath, as if to compose himself.

Now, that must be a lie, because you know good and god-damned well, he hasn't approached you since the Hale House incident. 

"About?" the borderline indifferent tone of your voice, cuts through the invisible bubble of tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence stretches in the rapidly approaching evening, shadows growing on his face, accentuating the frown that's settled over his expression. You try to remain unaffected, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a blue jeep, that most certainly belongs to Stiles, and although his visits at your house aren't unexpected, something akin to suspicion climbs up your back. Stiles and Scott camping at the house, that's nothing new. But the addition of Derek, alongside his teenage bodyguard... That's definitely a reason for being worried.

As if sensing the sudden change in your thoughts, Derek takes a step closer, his boots crunching on the gravel road. Your muscles tense involuntarily, an instinct you can't seem to get rid of, and your eyebrows shoot up, daring him to come even closer. Daring him to do something, you'll both regret. 

"Why didn't you let me change you?" he asks, voice so low, you can barely hear him. 

Boyd's head snaps in your direction, confusion mounting on his face. 

And just like that, all thoughts and suspicions about the werewolf's presence, get thrown out the proverbial window. Sucking in a sharp breath at the question, your lower lip migrates between your teeth, Derek's gaze zeroing on it with laser-sharp focus. 

"You could've died, and yet, you refused" he continues, taking another step "I could've saved you."

A sharp scoff leaves you, as if the scenario is beyond preposterous. And to some degree, it is. 

"Is it really such a ridiculous idea?" his tone dips even lower, into something almost too seductive, too much like dark persuasion "Imagine the power, the strength I could give you..."

"Strength to do what?" you challenge "Wipe tables faster? Be fucking for real."

A small, almost imperceivable smile splits his lips, and you catch a glimpse of his perpetually sharpened canine teeth. One more step closer, and suddenly he's standing right on the edge of your personal bubble, dancing on what's considered proper between two people, who supposedly despise each other. That small change whispers to you, compels you to let your arms fall from your chest, your defenses lowering without your consent. 

"You wouldn't have to wipe any tables, ever. If you'd join my pack" Derek promises, and the way words leave his mouth, makes you want to believe him. 

Alas, you're a realist, through and through. Your feet stay planted on the ground, no matter what, and in this moment, you know, you have to end this. Before any more ridiculous promises are made. Before you actually fall for one of them. 

"And how would that work, huh?" another challenge, and Derek's eyebrows jerk upwards "Is there a magical, supernatural fund for new werewolves? Do you pay hourly?"

This time, it's Derek's turn to roll his eyes, and the gesture makes heat rise in your bones. He shouldn't look this good while frustrated, the clicking muscles of his jaw almost begging you to go further, to push him.

"I have a family to take care of, you know." you seethe through your teeth, before stopping yourself. 

You could say more. You almost want to say more, words already forming on your tongue, and tasting like bitter venom. Scolding words about his family, about his strange determination to remain detached from the real world. But you swallow them, knowing full-well, that despite Derek's many faults, he doesn't deserve that much. And yes, you're confrontational, sometimes even rude. But you're not cruel. 

Derek notices your angry restrain, his eyes flitting around the way your lips are pressed tightly together. There's a slight note of appreciation, when he speaks next, as if the previous animosity was lifted, by the evening wind, and carried somewhere far away. 

"I know, you're a protector, through and through" he whispers, finally crossing that imaginary line "You'd fit so well, you're just what I need"

Boyd's eyebrows nearly jump off his face, as he looks between Scott McCall's asshole sister, and his Alpha. Derek never mentioned wanting to turn you. Hell, he never mentioned you at all, despite Isaac's efforts at baiting him into a discussion about your tits, and other, less important values. 

"My pack needs someone like you" Derek presses, his hand sneaking closer, fingers brushing over your wrist, and it's as if you've been touched by fire itself. 

End this. You have to end this now. 

A sharp, cutting scoff leaves you, as you rip your hand back, crossing your arms around your chest once again. 

"So you came here to baby-trap me with a bunch of teenagers." your voice is like ice, crushing the bubble of tension between your teeth, and Derek reels back.

He's stubborn, of course. Years of constant defeat have made him desperate to get what he wants. But in this moment, looking into your cold, stinging eyes, he understands with utmost clarity, there's no going through to you. Not today, at least. And so, he steps back with a small nod, an acceptance of temporary failure, before his gaze hardens enough, to make a shiver run up your spine. 

"No" he says, with a strange sort of finality "I didn't come here for you. I came here to kill Lydia Martin."

Immediately, your mind flies to the metal baseball bat, you keep hidden in your car, and deep down inside you're glad, you haven't lost your cool completely. He soaks in the way your expression twists, into one of unbridled, righteous rage, already imagining, how your eyes would look like, burning with amber flames of werewolf powers. And what a glorious sight it would be. You were already so fierce, such a strong personality, he could only picture, what a wonderful Beta you'd be. Loyal to a fault, protective beyond control. The tough alone makes him shiver. 

As if on cue, the door to your house opens, two bodies flying out of the darkness, and you watch, with growing confusion as Erica and Isaac land on the front lawn, grunting in pain, and precariously unable to move. 

"What the f-" you murmur under your nose, and Derek seems to echo the sentiment. 

Then, much to your relief, your brother steps out onto the porch, Stiles and Allison in tow behind him. Your body reacts faster, than your brain can comprehend, your feet carrying you forward. That is, until Derek's now clawed hand, wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch burns you, shoots through your body like an arrow. The way his thumb presses into the underside of your wrist, the ligt scrape of his claws on your skin. You must be going insane. You must be. 

For a second you're ready to whip around, and show him, why your right hook was famous throughout the whole Beacon Hills. But before you can, the window to Scott's room opens, and some strange, lizard creature crawls out, it's scales shining in the moonlight. It throws a menacing hiss in the general direction of the group, then jumps off into the darkness, leaving you confused, and maybe, just a little bit terrified. Derek hand tightens around you, tugging you back in a gesture, that would be considered protective, if you weren't struggling with an onslaugh of confusing feelings right now. 

By the time Lydia Martin exits the house, your wrist has a perfect imprint of Derek's fingers around it. 

***

Nothing fixes supernatural nonsense better, than throwing yourself into work. 

At least, that's what you tell yourself, as you swish all over the diner, serving coffee refills, hash browns, and slices of not-exactly-homemade cherry pie. White tennis shoes squeal urgently on the linoleum floor, when you finally get called over for your break. The kitchen welcomes you with the sounds of oil cracking, and the main cook throwing another crappy pick-up line your way. You've grown to appreciate them, knowing full-well he would never step out of line. It's the beauty of working in a diner, you suppose. 

Pushing the back door open, you pull out a half-empty pack of cigarettes, another habit you've picked up, while working here. First, it started as a way to relate to other workers, make yourself more social, in a way. Now however, as all addictions, it's a subconscious need, a welcome distraction from the absolute cluster fuck, that is your life. 

The air is crisp, and fresh, filled with an ever-present scent of the woods, which surround the diner on three fronts. A perfect horror setting, you think with a small laugh, as you perch yourself on a stack of cardboard boxes, leaning your head against the wall of the diner. The AC unit hums loudly above you, and you soak in the rhythmic sound, so much more calming, than the constant chaos inside. 

With a small huff, you set the timer on your phone to fifteen minutes, and finally pull out a cigarette, alongside a well-used lighter, you totally did not steal from one of your coworkers. The bombshell blonde in an American flag bikini stares at you from the plastic, as you light one up, taking a long, glorious drag, the delicate burn in your lungs grounding you.  

"These'll kill you" a familiar voice chokes the smoke out of you, and your eyes fall onto none other, but Derek Hale, approaching you with a strange sense of purpose from the tree line. 

Standing up, you throw him a glare, that doesn't look half as hostile, as you would've liked.

"I told you not to come around he-" 

The rest of the sentence gets cut off, as Derek crosses the remaining space between the two of you, kicking the cardboard boxes away, so he can fully push you into the wall. Coldness of the concrete seeps into your skin, despite the flimsy covering of your work uniform, and before you can shake off the shock, of being so close to him, he leans even further in, taking a deep breath, his nose sticking into your hair. There's a low, almost whining sound coming from him, as he exhales, and despite your general distaste for the man, your body warms up in a way, you haven't felt for a while now. 

An involuntary gasp leaves your lips, as the cigarette slips from your hand. Derek catches it in a casual display of his werewolf reflexes, and you will never admit, that it was very fucking cool. 

"The fuck are you-"

"No" he interrupts you again, causing your teeth to grind against each other in frustration "Stop this. Just stop talking." 

There's an unexplainable tension in his voice, something not entirely human creeping into the surface. Your eyes flicker up, above his shoulder, above the tree line, until it lands on the full face of the moon, staring back at you, almost taunting. Still, shouldn't he be practically immune to those things, he's supposed to be an Alpha, or whatever goofy thing he calls himself these days. 

Despite his status, Derek's eyes drop to your neck, where your pulse is picking up more and more, sprung on by the strangeness of this situation. 

You can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, goosebumps erupting all across your arms, as something not entirely unpleasant twists inside your stomach. Your chest expands in a shaky breath, and suddenly you're surrounded by the smell of pine tar and smoke, mixed with something so distinctly his, it makes your head swim, just a little. 

"Derek..." his eyes snap up to your face, when his name leaves your lips, and for the first time, since you've met him, you notice just how blue his eyes are. 

They're nearly burning, glossed over with something you don't dare to decipher, as they trace a slow path down, right to your lips. 

A resounding chorus of 'What the fuck?' repeats inside your brain, when he sucks on his own bottom lip, wetting it with his tongue, as if noticing something too delicious to resist. 

Your hands find purchase on his upper arms, fingers digging into the muscles, stuck in a limbo between pushing him away, and just... Letting him.

"Just..." he starts, then cuts himself off, swallowing thickly "Just stop talking."

Now that'll be the fucking day, you think, but before you can formulate some biting response, Derek's hand travels upwards, the still burning cigarette held firmly between his pointer and middle finger. Eyes zeroing in on your mouth again, he presses the filter between your parted lips. 

"In" he says firmly, voice low, bordering on a growl, and the undertone of command tinging that single word, makes your insides melt into a puddle.

Seemingly on their own, your lips close around the filter, as you take a deep inhale, feeling the familiar burn travel through your throat, all the way to your lungs. Nicotine filters through your blood, stealing your breath away, and making your head feel so much lighter. You shouldn't have brought such strong ones, and now you're paying for it.

"Hold it" Derek murmurs, his free hand climbing up your body. 

Clawed fingers slide up the apron, teasing the white ties on your lower back. Then, without a warning, he grabs a hold of your breast, squeezing it tightly, before running his thumb over you rapidly hardening nipple. The action forces a gasp out of you, alongside a cloud of smoke, which immediately gets swallowed down by Derek, as he closes the remaining distance. His lips are hot and slightly chapped, the stubble on his chin scratching your face, as he presses even further in, his tongue diving behind your teeth with such determination, it would be a shame not to respond.

So you do. 

However confused you are, by this unexpected turn of events, you welcome him into your mouth, a small grunt of content forming at the back of your throat. Because by some strange magic, or fate, or a curse placed upon you both by a witch, it feels right. It feels like this is where you belong, where he belongs. And the realization is both exciting, and deeply terrifying. But fuck, it feels beyond good.

The moment you kiss him back, he moans. Actually moans into your mouth, his hand on your breast squeezing once again, before moving lower. You can feel the scrape of his claws on the cheap fabric of your work uniform, and you almost scold him. 

"Wha-" you manage to let out between the kisses, before he dives in again, this time focusing all his attention on your neck.

This shouldn't be happening. You hate him, he's supposed to hate you too. And yet, for the time being you can't seem to find it in yourself to push him away, because god above, he's good. He's devastatingly good. 

"Keep smoking" he growls into the pulsing vein on your neck, as he pressed the filter back to your mouth, and despite your very nature, you comply. 

Taking the cigarette into your own, trembling hand, you huff in another drag. Derek groans in approval, lips sucking hard on the spot right behind your ear. The smoke pushes past your lips with a loud moan in tow. He turns his head, just for a second, his eyes dragging across the slowly fading imprint of his hand on your wrist. The sight slows him down for just a second, and he lets his sharpened teeth scrape down the column of your neck.

Now, having freed both of his hands, he's back to your skirt, pushing the edge up, and tugging it behind your apron. He acknowledges the small, wet patch at the front of your underwear with a pleased hum, then gets back to work. First, he grabs ahold of your thigh, dangerously close to the curve of your ass, and you can't really stop your body, from angling towards him. His other hand latches itself to your other breast, giving it the same, rough treatment. Tugging, pushing, squeezing like a stress ball, your usually tense body becomes pliant in his grip

"I said, keep smoking" he throws you a warning look, and you immediately take another drag.

Satisfied with your compliance, he dives down, burying his face in between your breasts, his lips descending upon your skin with hard, wet kisses. 

The combination of his ministrations, and the nicotine flowing through your system, effectively shuts your brain off. You let your head fall back against the wall, let your legs squeeze around his knee, which had precariously found it's way in-between them. A wave of white hot arousal crashes over you, stronger than you've felt in years, and you don't know what else to do, other than grab his shoulder for balance. 

Derek murmurs something inaudible against the cleavage of your uniform, before popping the first two buttons free, and reaching into your now exposed bra, freeing your breast in a way, that is bordering on desperate. He doesn't liger there for long, however, your smoke filled breath catching, as he falls to his knees in front of you, without a warning. 

Another heated look exchanged between the two of you, and you nearly yelp, when his tongue runs a long strip across the cotton of your panties. You don't even have the common sense to be embarrassed, by the washed out marihuanna pattern, or by the fact you've been on your legs for hours, because he doesn't let you gather your thoughts. 

If anything, the broken, growling sound he makes, when he buries his face between your legs makes you feel like the most powerful person on the planet. 

"God..." he groans, his hands grabbing onto the fullness of your ass, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth, all but grinding you into him.

"God..." you echo, letting your thighs fall open, as you try to take another drag of your cigarette from your shaking hand. 

Encouraged by the breathless moans from above, Derek tugs your underwear to the side, too impatient to bother with taking it off properly. 

Cold air of the rapidly approaching evening hits you, and with it, a sudden sense of clarity washes over you, like a bucket filled with ice water. The realization of what you're doing, what you're letting him do, hits you like a freight train.

The cigarette slips from your fingers, landing on the concrete, as Derek dives in, immediately locating your clit and sucking on it with a groan, that is downright pornographic.

Your entire body shudders, knees almost giving out. Your fingers dig into the leather material of his jacket, your knuckles turning white from the force. The noises he makes, as he begins to devour you, coupled with the obscenely wet sounds, would make Satan himself blush, and you can't contain the gasping moans spilling from your lips. Derek is relentless, shifting and squirming on his knees, hands digging into your flesh in an effort to bring your closer, to drown himself in the sweetest of tastes. Your back flies off the wall, then slams against it, thundering waves of pleasure crashing through you with each movement of his tongue, his mouth. 

In your darkest, most shameful of dreams you would've never imagined Derek Hale being this good at eating out. And yet here you are, thighs clenching desperately around his head, as he brings you higher, and higher. You twist in his unrelenting grip, as the coil snaps, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream, your entire body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. His tongue fucks you through it, until you can't take it anymore, until you slam your hands onto his shoulders, ripping him away from between your legs.

Derek makes a growl of discontent, as he lands with his ass on the concrete, and you take just a second to admire his expression. The wild red, burning in his eyes, the blush covering his entire face and the tips of his ears, the obvious traces of your arousal on his chin, which he immediately licks clean. Stars slowly die down in your vision, your breathing leveling, and you notice a growing patch of wetness, staining his jeans. He looks beyond debauched, and you're certain the look is mirrored on your face, if not more so. 

"How can someone so tart, taste so sweet?" he asks, his voice rough and breaking.

You don't know. You don't know a lot of things right now, but one is certain. And it's the sound of an alarm coming from your phone, signaling the end of your break. In a daze, you tug your skirt down into place, fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Derek watches, still seated on the ground, still occasionally licking his lips. 

"I gotta..." you whisper, not trusting your voice at all, and Derek's mout splits in a grin, that will haunt you every future night. 

He hums in acknowledgement, and you take his lack of protest in stride. The gravel crunches under your white tennis shoe, when you turn on your heel, and stumble back into the diner.

And the moon keeps laughing from above. 

[niki-phoria]

月光绽放在 midnight / 心跳漂浮起来

pairing: kamo choso x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 709

notes: i am a long haired choso enthusiast i make no apologies, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, inspo from this prompt list by @me-writes-prompts, title from wayv - after midnight

midnight. the moon shines brightly in the sky, casting a silver glow on the world below. the night is quiet; the silence is only occasionally broken by faint chirps from crickets and tree leaves bustling in the breeze. 

“it’s late,” KAMO CHOSO says as he quietly steps into the light. moonlight shines in through the window, just barely enough to illuminate the tiles of your kitchen floor. “why are you still awake?”

you spare him a brief glance over your shoulder, softly smiling at him in acknowledgement. his curse mark is barely visible in the darkness. it looks like little more than a shadow that stretches across his cheeks. choso’s hair cascades down his back in waves, ending just before his shoulders.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you reply. turning your attention back to your window, your gaze studies the glints of stars that litter the sky above. “i thought some stargazing would help.” 

“stargazing?” he repeats. choso’s footsteps echo throughout your kitchen as he wanders over to stand beside you. his tan robes hang loosely from his frame, missing the usual purple gi wrapped around his torso. stray strands of ink black hair frame his sharp features, free from their usual high buns. 

you nod. “i think it’s relaxing - looking at the moon.”

choso quietly hums in acknowledgement. his attention shifts, following your gaze to look up at the sky above. the stars are just barely visible in the sky. they twinkle in the darkness. from so far away, the moon is little more than a small, glowing light.

“have you ever been in love?” you ask. your voice is quiet, cautious about disturbing the tranquility of the moment. 

“what do you mean?” choso shifts, turning to face you. he’s standing next to you now; his body is so close that you can feel his knuckles ghost against your own when he reaches up to brush his bangs out of his face. 

“you know, romantically,” you shrug. you turn to face him, studying his features in the dim light.

choso pauses, contemplating your question. his fingers find the hem of his robes, toying with the fabric. “i’m not sure. i’ve only ever loved my brothers,” he replies after a brief moment of silence. “have you?”

“it’s been a long time,” you chuckle sheepishly, almost a little embarrassed. “but i thought i was. i wanted it to be love, anyway.”

he nods. choso’s attention momentarily returns to the moon. it shines brightly in the sky, drowning out the light of the stars around it. “what did it feel like? to be in love?”

“it’s…” you pause, searching through your head for the right words. “it’s like unconditional trust. feeling safe with someone, no matter where you are. being with someone and knowing that somehow everything will be okay, as long as you’re both together.”

a comfortable silence falls over the room once again. choso fidgets with the hem of his robes, absentmindedly rolling the thin fabric between his fingers. he mulls over your words in his head. 

curses are the antithesis of humans. they’re born from negative emotions, like fear and anger. it was unheard of for a curse and a human to interact without bloodshed; choso’s own existence was still heavily contested by sorcerers. 

he was used to being met with cruelty and scorn, even when he helped exercise curses himself. but you were different. you were always kind. you greeted him with a soft smile and ensured that his technique was healing his wounds. you held his calloused, bloody hands in your own when you stood against the higher-ups. you made him feel safe - like everything was going to be okay.

choso turns to face you. the stars seem to reflect in his dark eyes; you can almost trace the various constellations in the sky looking back at you. blood rushes to his face, tinting his curse mark a deep shade of red. his ears burn from the heat spreading across his cheeks. 

“y/n,” he murmurs. choso reaches up, hesitantly resting a hand against your face. his thumb strokes against your cheek. his touch is slow and careful. the intimacy of the moment sends butterflies swarming throughout your stomach. “i think i might be in love with you.” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please comment, reblog, or leave feedback !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[chaiifluuf]

•°. *࿐ What if all i need is you? — d. osamu

synopsis. after going underground for the time being to leave the port mafia, yours and dazai’s friendship starts to feel like something else

content. gn!reader, spoilers for the dark era/season 2 ep 4, lowercase, comfort, fluff, hcs + one-shot, clingy dazai, lowkey bad writing??

notes. i don’t think i’ve ever been this nervous about posting something ( ; ω ; ), anyways first post and first time attempting to actually write smth so this most likely has grammatical mistakes…

dazai who, after witnessing his best friend’s death, arrived at your doorstep at midnight and without a second thought asked you to run away with him.

dazai who tells you everything that happened and why he is willing to make a change, hoping you will come along with him.

dazai who is deep down desperate for your comfort and touch, your soothing words that somehow always manage to find a way to his heart.

dazai who at one point couldn’t hold it together anymore and spends many nights silently crying into your shoulder, for the first time allowing himself to be vulnerable around you.

dazai who believes he will never be quite enough to deserve your endless amount of care and affection.

dazai who was able to have a full night of near peaceful sleep in a while, all thanks to your warmth and mere presence next to him.

dazai who realises how much you truly matter to him, how he can’t ignore the warm feeling in his chest whenever he sees you, how his body craves for you.

dazai who slowly starts to think that maybe with you he can do this and become the better person who odasaku wished him to be.

the full moon was shining brightly tonight, slightly peeking through the curtains of your shared apartment. the weather is calm, only a soft breeze passing by at times. it’s almost been half a year now since you and dazai went underground and it’s been quiet to say the least. with some help from ango, you were able to find a small temporary apartment in the suburbs, away from the main city.

the first few weeks after agreeing to go with him were rather rough. dazai was uncharacteristically quiet most of the time, his eyes seeming even duller and more distant than usually. it was clear to you how much odasaku’s death had really affected him and you can’t blame him. the best you could do was to tell him it was going to be okay and be there for him in any way needed, a reminder that you’re here to stay.

Another thing you weren’t used to was how clingy he would become.

despite the two of you not being in a relationship, it was almost unreal how touchy you got with each other. Sleeping and basking in each other’s warmth, the lingering touches when the other had to go elsewhere, the small caresses were like a second language for him at this point. and it never made you uncomfortable.

as of now you are finishing watching a film, one that has been sitting in your watchlist for a while now. the ending of it left you a little disappointed but overall it was more than enough to cure your boredom. with a soft sigh, you turn the tv off and place the remote control away.

your gaze drifts down to your chest, a view of familiar brown and soft hair snuggled up to you. he has been practically in the same position for the whole duration you watched the film, a pair of arms securely wrapped around your waist and his head resting against your chest. it's a serene sight.

judging by his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, he seems to be asleep. which is rather rare since the only time he gets actual sleep is late at night if even that. you briefly check your phone and it's barely ten pm. your hand finds itself in his hair, gently brushing through it as you untangle a few knots. it really was beyond your understanding of how soft it is. if you could spend your whole day just caressing his hair you would.

you can’t help but take notice of his features when you brush some of his bangs to the side. he looked absolutely ethereal and it made your heart beat faster without you realising it. you wish he could see himself the way you do. but then again he has said the same thing about you so that’s that. you will never get tired of his peaceful state though, looking as if there is not a single worry on his mind.

more often than you would like to admit, you wonder what you two are. up until running away, you were just close friends with him, friends who got along well. sure there was the typical dazai flirting and petnames here and there but you didn’t think they meant anything further than that. however, overtime you can’t deny the fact you might just have fallen for him.

but now you don’t know. do friends hold each other so intimately? do friends make most of your meals because they know you won’t eat anything else? does a friend look at you so longingly, even if it’s for a split second? and once you ponder about that, you start doubting if he feels the same. what if he doesn’t see you like that? what if he’ll get bored of you eventually? what if—

a small movement from dazai was enough to snap you out of your thoughts. he slightly shifted his position, letting out a faint exhale afterwards.

“‘samu?” you murmur as you stare at him for a little, expecting him to wake up but to your surprise he’s still in his slumber.

there is a certain glint of softness in your eyes before you close them and lightly bury your face into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. despite your calm breaths, your mind was still running.

“…i love you.” your voice was barely audible. for whatever reason, you felt the need to say it, the very same three words that have plagued your thoughts for a while now. you know he didn’t hear it but at least that’s what made it easier to say. maybe one day you’ll finally let go of all your doubts and fears and confess to him, telling him how much he really means to you.

“you do?”

your heart drops. for a second you wondered if you really heard that or not. there was no way.

“what?” you respond quietly, almost in disbelief. dazai turns his head to get a better look at you as well as move a little closer. his eyes were half open but you can still see the glint of playfulness in them. a faint smirk was on his face. this man… is this supposed to mean that this whole time he was only pretending to be asleep?!

“you love me?” he repeated his question, a bit of teasing evident in his tone. god you wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. perhaps you should have never opened your mouth in the first place.

“ah, i just… i mean…” your words trailed off as your heart started to speed up. suddenly you didn’t know what to say but if he really heard your words earlier then the answer must be obvious. you’re sure you look flustered right now and you can’t even hide it from him since he’s right in front of you.

however, what he did next made your world freeze in time.

without a warning dazai slowly closed the distance and softly touched your lips with his. having you so distracted that you didn’t even notice when he moved his hand to the back your head.

the kiss lasted for about three seconds but it sure felt like an eternity. his lips were much softer than you thought, despite you not having enough time to fully react to the kiss. for a moment you can’t help but question if this was real or another dream you were about to wake up from.

his face still stayed close, his lips slightly parted as his warm breath hit your skin. “i think i love you too y’know..” he mumbled while gently caressing the corner of your jaw. his voice seemed more sincere when he said that.

and just like that all of you anxieties disappeared. you don’t what came over you but what you do know is that you captured his lips with yours once again. only this time you felt the need to go deeper, like you couldn’t get enough of him.

dazai welcomed your initiative warmly, letting out a quiet hum as you kissed him once again. you had no idea kissing someone could feel this good. you swear you can feel him smiling against your lips at some point and it makes your heart skip a beat. your hands wander through his hair, holding him close as your body relaxes.

you guessed all those times he bragged about being a good kisser turned out to be true after all.

when the two of you part to take a moment to breathe, he takes the chance to tease you again. “i’m still waiting for an answer to my question, bella.” he says softly.

yeah, this was definitely real.

thank you so much if you made it this far !<3 literally need to stop rereading this because it gets worse every time i do help

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

08- In The Night

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. there, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew

w/c: 4.2k

warnings: jk is having a crisis!, too many mentions of the sun and the moon, (no srsly too many), mixed signals!, jk is a bit territorial, smut, hobi mention during foreplay??, oral (f.), unprotected sex (wrap then tap), creampie, reader has a breakdown!, the kims x parents r just soo boooo!!, alcohol consumption!, lots of texting in this chap sorry!!

!minorsdni!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Jungkook rarely had the chance to witness dawn on weekdays. He reserved those fleeting moments—watching the sun greet the world as the moon quietly bowed out—for weekends.

Though, despite only indulging in the views on weekends, it was always his favourite time of the day. There was something mesmerising about the battle in the sky, the darkness stubbornly clinging on while the sun slowly claimed its place. The muted blues gave way to warmer hues, soft oranges bleeding across the horizon as the light grew stronger.

Jungkook had always felt a stronger connection to the moon than the sun. Like the moon, he was stuck in a phase of emptiness, waiting to feel whole.

Sometimes, he wondered if he would ever find a partner like the sun—someone brighter, someone who could reflect against him, making him shine in a way he couldn’t on his own. He wondered if he’d ever experience a love so powerful that, when they came together, they’d create an eclipse, leaving everyone in awe.

His free hand slipped under the pillow where his head rested, digging for his phone. He pressed his thumb against the screen—half past five on a Thursday.

Too fuckin’ early.

Too fuckin’ early to be watching the sun lay the moon to rest. Too fuckin’ early to be coming up with metaphors about the moon and the sun. Too fuckin’ early to be watching the girl who rested her head on his other arm sleep so peacefully.

He watched as your chest rose and fell softly, noting how your hand was tucked awkwardly beneath your chin, your lips almost in a pout. It made him wonder if you, too, were dreaming of the sun and the moon, and how gut-wrenching their love story was.

Jungkook was used to playing the role of the moon—only available during the night, following the moon’s lead and disappearing when the sun came into view. It was why he had set his strict ‘No sleeping over’ rule in the first place.

The sun made things feel permanent, real, and hopeful. Jungkook was none of those things. He was the moon—something that always felt like it came and went too quickly. A moment in time that people could indulge in to do things they’d never dare in the light.

Jungkook was always honest—he made sure the girls who he bent over his mattress knew he wasn’t here to stay. He’d make it clear that sex was all he was after, no interest in breakfast or exchanging numbers to keep in touch.

But he hadn’t told you that. You’d waltzed in, pretty in pink, and somehow managed to blur all of Jungkook’s lines.

He tries to stay still, your head resting against his arm as you sleep, but he feels jittery. Anxious. His foot taps against nothing, his thumb cracking each of his knuckles. He watches the sun climb higher into the sky, the golden glow streaming through the window, spilling across his bed and over your body. It’s almost starting to piss him off—how well it compliments you. How it kisses your skin and makes you glow. Should’ve shut his fuckin’ blinds last night.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, your hand instinctively rubbing them as they adjusted to the soft glow pouring through Jungkook’s window.

“What time is it?” you mumbled sleepily.

“Six-thirty.”

“Been awake long?”

“Nah, just woke up now too.” Jungkook lied, unable to tell you that he had spent the last hour watching you sleep, as he romanticised the sun and the moon.

He watches as you grab your phone, scrolling through the endless notifications flooding your home screen. He knows he needs to tell you that this isn’t something serious—that waking up with your bodies entwined and falling asleep together is something that shouldn’t happen again. But right now, he feels a little selfish. He expects the same reactions from you that he’s gotten from other girls:

“You don’t mean that.”

“I think we have something special.”

“Maybe I could change your mind.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He decides he can push it back a little further, nothing too crazy. Just wants to fuck you raw again—he’s sure that after he says what he needs to say, you won’t let him do it again.

His hand reaches out and presses his finger against the lock button on your phone as you type out a reply to a message.

“Dickhead.”

“Rude. Let you stay over, let you use my arm as a pillow, and all you care about is your phone.”

You roll your eyes and let your phone drop to the mattress, resting your chin on your hands instead. “Happy?”

“No. Arm’s dead from holding up your big-ass fuckin’ head.”

You push gently against his forehead with the tips of your fingers, letting out a small laugh and tell him to go fuck himself.

He watches as you move onto your knees, stretching your arms slightly. The shirt you’re wearing, hanging loosely over your body, lifting slightly.

“Rest of the boys here?”

“It’s 7 in the fuckin’ morning on a Thursday, D.D. Of course they are, you idiot.” Jungkook laughs, shaking his head as he brings his index finger to jab you softly in the ribs. You grab his finger, your body jolting slightly at the unexpected touch.

“Why? Got plans?” he teases, poking you again.

“Obviously,” you reply, a sly grin on your face. “Me and Hoseok, 8 a.m. Finally finishing what you interrupted.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow slightly as he wraps his finger around the fabric of your shirt and tugs you closer to him.

“Not funny, D.D.”

"Bit funny," you murmur, tilting your head to give him a bit more access.

Jungkook's lips trail across your jaw, ghosting over your lips before moving to the other side of your jaw and down your neck.

"Did he kiss you here? Hm?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.

You're sure this is some kind of trick question, Jungkook trying to provoke a reaction from you. Instead of answering, you tilt your head the other way.

He pulls his lips away from your neck, his gaze meeting yours. “Asked you a question."

You look at Jungkook, letting out a small snort. But Jungkook isn’t laughing; he just looks at you, waiting. You shrug slightly, offering a small nod.

“Use your words. Yes or no. You can do that, right, D.D.?” His lips move back to your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your soft skin. His finger slides to the neckline of his shirt you’re wearing, pulling it back slightly to expose your collarbone. He presses two soft kisses there.

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

He looks up at you, his gaze darkening as his fingers slowly drag down your sides, reaching the bottom of your shirt. He pulls it off carefully, swallowing lightly when his eyes land on your bare chest.

His lips return to your soft skin, pressing a kiss to your sternum. "Here?"

"Yeah."

His head lowers, pressing soft kisses down your chest until his lips reach the curve of your breast, his other hand coming to squeeze the other gently.

"And here? Did he touch you here? Kiss you here?"

Your voice comes out a little breathier, your head tilting back slightly. "Yes."

Jungkook's lips kiss down to your nipple, his eyes looking up at you as your head rolls forward to look down at him, a slow soft lick over your hardening bud. “Here?”

You let a small breath escape your lips, paired with a nod.

He takes your nipple into his mouth fully, sucking gently before pulling away with a soft pop. "Words, D.D. Tell me." His teeth graze ever so slightly over your nipple, sending a shiver through you.

"Fuck- Mhm."

Jungkook feels a flash of annoyance that Hoseok got a taste of you before he did, got to touch and kiss you the way he's doing now. He knows Hoseok's more of an ass guy, wouldn't have fully appreciated just how lucky he was.

His hand moves to your shoulder, gently urging you back onto the bed, his lips trailing down your stomach. Each kiss is followed by the same question.

His lips reach the waistband, pressing a kiss over the fabric. "Here? Did I interrupt before he got to touch you here?"

You shake your head softly, goosebumps rising on your skin as his breath grazes over you.

He takes the waistband between his teeth, pulling back just enough to let it snap against your skin, earning a small moan from your lips.

"Got to touch you here, huh? I was too late?"

He leans back onto his legs, his fingers pulling your panties down your legs, wastes no time to push one of your legs to the side and settle himself between your thighs.

His lips inch closer, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before moving to your clit, a small peck against your bud, his breath as he speaks causing your hips to shift slightly. “How ‘bout here D.D? Did he get to taste you?”

You lean up onto your elbows, looking down at Jungkook between your thighs, his eyes looking up at you through the messy strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead, his lips so incredibly close to your dripping core that it causes you to moan again.

“Fuck, Kook. No.” Your tongue darts out to lick over your lower lip, “Not there.”

Jungkook almost lets out a breath of relief, catches himself before he does, and swallows it. It’s not like it mattered—Hoseok and you, what happened or, clearly, didn’t happen. He tells himself it’s his pride, or his competitive nature. Almost slaps himself right there when he catches himself mentally thanking the cops for showing up, shutting down the party, and leading him to interrupt you both.

He lowers his head, moves his arms under your thighs and flattens his tongue to press a lick over your soaked core. Knows that the moment your pretty moans and whines fill the room, they'll drown out every unnecessary, irrational thought flooding his mind.

He moves his tongue back to your clit, softly flicking his tongue over you repeatedly. His eyes are still on yours, still leaning up on your elbows to enjoy the view. Brows pressing together, lips rested ajar.

His tongue is relentless, not faltering in speed—increasing instead. Soft little hums of satisfaction of his own vibrating against you, sends goosebumps over your skin. His tongue, every now and then, explores lower to drink in your arousal.

His hand, that had been holding the back of your thigh, moves softly across your skin. His head pulling up just slightly, his lips glossy with your slick form into a smirk of satisfaction. He brings two fingers to your center, softly runs them over your folds before pushing them inside you.

It’s almost kind of pathetic, how your body responds to the way Jungkook explores you. Your lips parted, letting out curses that are laced with whines. Fingers curling into the sheets beneath you, hips rolling up to greedily feel as much of Jungkook as you can.

His fingers curl slightly as they continue to push into you, his tongue back to work against your—now throbbing—clit. Your legs growing a little weaker, breaths getting a little more frantic, your walls getting a lot tighter around Jungkook's digits.

“Fuck—you gonna cum for me?” Jungkook’s lips barely pull from your clit, his voice practically echoing right through your body. Your come to tangle into the soft locks of Jungkook’s bed hair, encouraging him back to tasting you.

“Fuck.” Your back arches, one foot pressing into Jungkook’s shoulder, “Fuck, Kook.”

His fingers hook inside you, constantly pressing into the spot that you’ve only been able to find yourself. He lets out a groan of his own as he feels your walls start to pulsate around him. Your hand coming over your mouth to quieten yourself as your orgasm washes over you.

Jungkook pulls his head back, watches his fingers continue to push into you, drowning them in your orgasm. He brings himself to hover over you, fingers slowly exiting from inside you.

His other hand wraps around your wrist, moving it from over your mouth. He brings his other fingers, that are coated in your slick towards your mouth, when he’s met with your lips parting he presses them against your tongue. A hushed string of curses leaving his lips as he watches you taste yourself.

“Gotta fuck you, D.D.” His voice is low, fingers slowly coming out of your mouth and down to his cock, palming himself.

Your hands grab the sides of Jungkook’s face, pulling him into your lips. A silent invitation, fuck me. His lips work against yours as he kicks off his briefs.

His lips pull from yours, positions himself between your legs, his hands wrapped around the base of his cock as he lets the tip rub up and down your folds. Coats himself in you.

He could continue to tease you—likes the way you’re currently begging him to fuck you. But, Jungkooks self control seems to weaken whenever you’re in close proximity. Now, is no different. He’s sliding into you, your still pulsing pussy taking in his full length.

A steady rhythm is set, Jungkook's hips moving back and forth against you. He doesn't think he'll last as long as he wants-too fucking warm. So warm it has his mind drifting to the sun. Starts wonder if this is how the moon feels when it’s covered by the sun, to create an eclipse.

His teeth sink into his lower lip. Not the fuckin' time to be thinking about the moon or the sun or how they merge every now and then. He quickens the pace of his hips, shoving the silly metaphors out of his mind and replacing them with the sound of your moans.

His eyes flicker to your face, drinking you in.

Your eyes shut, lips parted slightly as your breaths grow heavier, brows furrowing with each thrust. Your hand moves to the back of his neck as he lowers his head, bringing his ear closer to your lips. He needs to hear you, needs your sounds to drown out the voices in his head comparing your expression to sunlight. Warm. Bright. Too fuckin' hot.

"Yeah? Feel good, D.D?"

Your nails dig into Jungkook's neck ever so slightly, your hips bucking to feel him even deeper. "Shit— So good, Kook." You want to see him-his brows furrow like he's in pain as he bottoms out into you, the small dimple that appears when he tugs on his lower lip as he cums. But Jungkook doesn't let you. He pushes your hand, the one pressed against his chest, down and traps it under his own.

"Gonna make me cum, fuck." His hips find a new, quickened pace as he feels the pressure building, inching closer to his high. "Tell me where you want it, where do you want me, D.D?"

You turn your head slightly, lips brushing against Jungkook's ear as you whisper, "Inside."

Jungkook’s sure he’s imagining things now. Convinced all the fuckin’ thoughts of the stupid sun have played with his head, giving him sunstroke. He’s got all the symptoms—confusion, rapid pulse, a little dizzy.

“Yeah?” You turn your head as close as you can, lips against his ear, “Cum in me.”

His hips falter for a second, hearing you loud and clear that time. His head pushes into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as his hips stutter into you as his orgasm reaches its peak and empties himself into you. His moans muffled against your skin.

The room falls into a quiet stillness, broken only by the sound of labored breaths as you both come down from the high. Jungkook shifts first, moving onto his knees, his body still tense as he pulls away.

He watches as your pussy drips with his cum, fights the urge to plug you with his fingers and make you lick them clean again. Quietly reaches for the wipes, moving his hands over you to clean the mess he left up.

The silence is thick—suffocating. There’s no back and forth banter, no playful teasing, no lingering touches. Silence, that’s only broken by Jungkook standing to pull his underwear back on.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. He simply stands, collects himself, and walks out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him to go take a shower.

Twenty minutes later, Jungkook steps back to his room. Grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, water droplets down his torso that reflect against the sun that shines against his body.

“Yoongi and Jimin are downstairs, can stay here ‘til they fuck off.” He mutters, his voice flat, eyes looking everywhere else but at you.

You hum softly in response, your fingers tapping against your phone screen. Nothing important—just a message or twelve from your parents reminding you that missing dinner with the Kims tomorrow night would also mean missing your monthly allowance.

Jungkook sinks into his desk chair without a word, swinging it slightly from side to side. His eyes flit around the room before settling on a Rubik’s Cube on his desk. He picks it up, fingers twisting and turning the already-solved puzzle aimlessly.

“Comin’ back tomorrow?” Jungkook mumbles, not looking at you. “To the party, I mean.”

You let your phone drop beside you on the mattress, a small sigh escaping your lips, your eyes focusing on the view from the window instead. “Nah.”

Jungkook’s eyes shift to you, an eyebrow lifting slightly. “Nah?”

“Mhm, dinner with the husband-to-never-be.”

His jaw tightens instantly, frustration creeping into his chest. He doesn’t even understand why this shit bothers him, why he cares that you’re still entertaining some bullshit arranged marriage. You’re here, aren’t you? Out from under their thumb, with friends, a new life practically waiting for you if you’d just grab it. Instead, you’re still running to their dinners, jumping through hoops for their approval.

His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping to the Rubik’s Cube in his hands. “What does the groom think of it all?”

You shrug slightly. “Not a groom if there’s no bride,” you say flatly. “Wants it, I guess. Dunno. Don’t really care what he thinks.”

“You guys have history?”

Another shrug. You glance at him briefly, unsure why he suddenly cares. “Guess so. Took his virginity. Fucked around here and there—nothing too deep. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, fingers gripping the cube just a little harder. “Right,” he mutters, forcing a shrug of his own. He doesn’t know the guy, but he doesn’t need to. Adds him to his mental list of ‘Shit I Hate with a Burning Passion’ anyway. Not for any particular reason, though; just thinks he sounds like a dick.

“You need me to get you the morning-after pill?”

“Think I can manage,” you reply, your tone clipped but not cold.

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the Rubik’s Cube in his hand, twisting it aimlessly as his leg bounces like it has a mind of its own. He doesn’t know why annoyance seeps into his chest, spreading like a slow burn. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Neither had he.

But his head won’t stop spinning. A thousand thoughts colliding, crashing into each other. Every move he’s made since you showed up feels like a betrayal of himself—like you’ve pulled the strings and unraveled the tight rules he’s clung to for years.

“D.D?”

“Hm?”

Jungkook’s voice is steady, but there’s a tightness to it, like he’s bracing for impact. “Gonna be real honest with you—this ain’t more than sex to me.” His eyes stay locked on the Rubik’s Cube in his hands, fingers fumbling with the colors he’d carefully pieced together.

You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “Okay?” You almost laugh, but it comes out dry, bitter. Wonder if he thinks you’re a fucking idiot.

“I mean, like, I guess we are friends? Friendly? Whatever, I really ain’t here to do more than fuck. A release. A fuck. Not looking to do more than that, be more than that. Don’t need or want you falling in love or some shit, you know?”

You can’t fight the scoff that forces its way out of your mouth, a laugh following after. You tilt your head slightly, staring at him with disbelief, as if trying to figure out why he’s bothering to say it at all.

“And you’re telling me this because?” You quirk an eyebrow, more confused than anything else.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m down to fuck around with you and all, you’re fun. But, if it feels more to you than that, now or later, I need you to know that it’s on you.”

“I think it’s really confident of you to think that I’d ever want anything more than that from you. Or that I’d ever expect it.”

Jungkook looks up from his Rubik’s Cube, surprise flickering across his face at the unexpected sting in your words. He’d been expecting some kind of reaction—maybe even a fight.

“Anyways, just fucking, right? So going downstairs and getting questioned isn’t really an issue, is it?”

“Right.” Jungkook nodded, his eyes on you as you stood up, slipping your phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

“Really not coming this weekend?”

You roll your eyes, a small laugh escaping. “Gonna cry if I don’t?”

“My dick might,” Jungkook smirked, tossing the Rubik’s Cube onto his desk.

“Have the day you deserve, Jeon Jungkook,” you teased, making your way toward the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, D.D.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Lately, Friday evenings had been reserved for getting ready to get shitfaced at the House of Balloons. Scanning your closet, trying on too many outfits in front of your full-length mirror, sitting at your vanity, applying makeup while listening to remixes and original instrumentals that Yoongi and Hobi had sent over.

Tonight, however, that wasn’t the case. You stood staring at your reflection in the mirror, wearing a yellow maxi dress adorned with a pink floral pattern. Your face scrunched up in disapproval—not because the dress was ugly (it wasn’t, it was a gorgeous custom piece from a high-end designer)—but because it just felt so… not you.

Florals, pastels, pinks, and frills had long been pushed to the back of your closet. Now, you reached for darker tones, pulling out leather jackets, black tees, and platform boots instead of dainty open-toed heels. You told yourself it was the influence of the House of Balloons, but was it really? Were you just trying to fit in, wearing clothes that made you feel like you belonged, like you were comfortable? Or had the environment simply enhanced who you truly were underneath it all?

The feeling of discomfort only intensified as you sat at the dinner table on the rooftop of Taehyung’s father’s hotel. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city, but nothing about it felt warm to you. Glasses of champagne clinked around the table, the conversations flowing like the drink—mostly about hotels, business deals, upcoming events, and gossip about other elites. Most exhausting of all were the not-so-subtle hints about you and Taehyung being made for each other.

As dinner came to an end, you found yourself standing by the railing, eyes drifting over the sprawling view of Seoul. Skyscrapers jutted into the sky, busy roads weaving through the city, buildings stacked on top of one another in an endless, fast-paced rhythm. Seoul had always felt this way—like a place where everyone was constantly rushing, never pausing to breathe or truly take in what was right in front of them. It made you miss Daegu. More specifically, it made you miss the House of Balloons. Time felt different there. It didn’t race by. Instead, people held onto it, dragging it out, blending one day into the next so that moments felt stretched, lasting longer, unhurried.

“Pretty, right?” Taehyung’s voice slipped up behind you, his presence falling comfortably beside you as he leaned against the railing.

You hum in agreement, casting a quick glance at him. He was effortlessly handsome in his simple white button-down tucked neatly into black slacks, like something out of a picture-perfect magazine.

“Missed you at the last few events. Been busy?” His voice was casual, but the question carried an undertone of concern.

“Guess so. Been figuring some stuff out.” Your voice is soft as you take a glass of champagne from the server’s tray, careful to avoid looking him directly in the eye. It’s not a lie, exactly—just a half-truth.

“Is that so?” Taehyung glanced over at you, taking his own flute of champagne, swirling it casually. “And what are you figuring out?”

You let out a small, noncommittal shrug, sighing softly. There was no point in sharing your thoughts with him—he didn’t actually care. He’d pretend, of course, tell you he’d listen for hours, offer sweet advice, but you knew better. There was an agenda behind every word he said, and you weren’t interested in playing along.

“And you?” You ask, breaking the silence with your own question, a little more biting than you meant.

Taehyung shifted his stance, leaning back against the railing as he faced you, his gaze unwavering. “Been focusing on the business side of things. Working my way up to Dad’s position, you know how it is.”

You nod as you listen to him rant about meetings, brag about the perks, and complain about the workers—all so insincere, every word feeling more rehearsed than the last.

“Was thinking, maybe we could have dinner? Just us? No prying parents, somewhere nice… could even go to Paris if you want?” Taehyung’s suggestion hung in the air, insincere and rehearsed. You could almost hear the ‘how-to’ guide behind his words. Ask her to travel with you, a trip alone to the most romantic city in the world. She’ll love it! It’s where love blooms!

You almost laugh, but stop yourself, already tired of the charade. You open your mouth to reply, but just then, your phone buzzes, the vibration a small relief from the conversation.

“Sorry, give me a minute?” you offer with a forced smile, already walking away.

| 9:36pm

Unknown: rude

| 9:38pm

You: ???

| 9:38pm

Unknown: ???????

| 9:39pm

You: whos this

| 9:40pm

Unknown: are u really not coming

| 9:41pm

You: how did you even get my number you freak.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly who it was. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, you lean into the armchair and sip on your wine thats bubbling in your hand.

| 9:45pm

starboy: definitely didnt steal yoongis phone and send it to myself.

| 9:47pm

You: dont u have coke to snort. get off my phone

| 9:47pm

starboy: sorry am i interrupting dinner with ur husband

| 9:49pm

You: fuck off

| 9:50pm

starboy: does he know i fucked his wifes titties

| 9:51pm

You: im blocking u. hope ur nose collapses.

| 9:52pm

starboy: r u rlly not coming.

| 9:52pm

starboy: asking for a friend.

| 9:53pm

starboy: friend = my dick. lol.

| 9:56pm

You: ur sick in the head. get immediate professional help.

| 9:58pm

starboy: weird way to say u want to roleplay as my therapist

| 9:58pm

You: i would have u put down.

Your father calls from the opposite side of the rooftop, snapping you from your thoughts. “Come on, honey, cars waiting downstairs.”

You stand up, stuffing your phone into the small purse slung over your shoulder. You exchange empty pleasantries with the Kims, hugging them in the most rehearsed way, all while plastering a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

The drive home is a muted affair, with your parents gushing about the Kims’ efforts. Their compliments don’t feel real, but they sure sound it, meant only to please themselves.

As you step into the penthouse, you’re immediately enveloped by the silence. It’s almost too much to bear, the quiet echo of the place swallowing you whole. Your parents, immediately reach for the red wine, filling three glasses without a word.

“Isn’t he just a charming young man?” Your mother coos, almost dreamily. “You’d be foolish not to snatch him up, honey. He won’t wait for you forever.”

You take a deliberate sip of the red wine, feeling the tension simmer. Your hand grips the glass a little too tightly, and you bite back the eye roll, stifling the groan that’s already building. “Can we not have this conversation again?”

“Don’t be difficult,” your father chimes in, his voice firm. “Your mother’s right. It’s time to grow up. You’ve been sneaking around, coming home at all hours, dressing like a mess. Stop this nonsense.”

“Really? You’re telling me to grow up when you’re the ones trying to marry me off to a man I have zero interest in, just so you can add more zeros to your bank account?” Your voice is sharper than you intended.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Your mother tilts her head, as if you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“Sometimes, you need to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Your father’s voice hardens, and his gaze sharpens. “Don’t be selfish.”

You glare at him, a deep, burning resentment filling your chest. The sick feeling in your stomach intensifies as your hands clench around the bottle of red wine, the glass rattling slightly. With a sharp shake of your head, you turn toward your parents and storm up the stairs, “Go fuck yourselves.”

You hear your mother’s footsteps follow you, no doubt ready to lecture you, but she’s stopped by your father’s voice, sharp and commanding.

“Leave it. She’ll learn.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The empty red wine bottle sits abandoned on your bedside table, its partner, an empty soju bottle, discarded carelessly next to it. You had grabbed three bottles from a nearby convenience store, hoping the walk would help burn off the fire that had ignited inside you.

Another sip of soju, another attempt to numb the growing heat. But it doesn’t help. Every little detail of the room makes your blood simmer. You can’t escape it — the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of being trapped.

Your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror, and your tongue runs along the side of your cheek, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. “Fuck it.” You mutter under your breath, rising from the bed. You grab the bag from the convenience store and storm into the ensuite.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, a small laugh escaping your lips as you rub a damp towel across your forehead, trying to wipe away the black dye staining your skin. Frustrated, you toss the towel aside and pick up the scissors. With a quick swig from the bottle, you tilt your head forward and snip. One snip turns into two, then three, and before you know it, you’ve lost count, mindlessly following a terrible YouTube tutorial.

Buzz.

| 4:30am

starboy: someone (definitely not me) smashed one of joons plant bottles. very unfortunate.

| 4:30am

starboy: if anyone asks it was valerie.

You let out a small laugh as you read the messages. Absolute moron. You glance at yourself in the mirror, fluffing your hair slightly. The haircut wasn’t bad… wasn’t amazing either. Still, it made you feel a tad better. You grab the packet of cigarettes from your bag, head to the small balcony attached to your room, and step outside.

| 4:36am

You: hope valerie kicks ur ass.

| 4:44am

starboy: why the fuck are u awake.

| 4:44am

You: wouldnt u like to know

| 4:45am

starboy: ur weird.

| 4:45am

starboy: r u still with ur husband

| 4:46am

You: home.

| 4:46am

starboy: then why r u awake. suspicious. r u still with him

| 4:47am

You: yes. u caught me :( balls deep in me rn

| 4:47am

starboy: what

| 4:47am

starboy: hahaha what

| 4:48am

starboy: lol r u really

| 4:48am

You: no.

| 4:48am

starboy: D.D ur not funny

| 4:49am

You: lil bit funny.

You flick the ash from your cigarette, the cool air mixing with the heat of the soju down your throat. You look at the messages on your phone, wonder why Jungkook is even texting you. Wonder what he’s doing, who he’s with, why he’s distracting himself on his phone to talk to you. Wonder why you text back, why you enjoy it, why you have to tell yourself his messages aren't that funny when you find yourself laughing.

| 4:50am

starboy: did u actually fuck him

| 4:51am

You: ??? no i didnt fuck the person who wants to marry me for money

| 4:51am

starboy: oh okay. good

| 4:52am

You: good?

| 4:52am

starboy: well. u let me hit raw.

| 4:53am

starboy: cant do that if we are fuckin other people, right?

| 4:54am

You: are you saying that you’re not fucking other people?

| 4:54am

starboy: yea, that

| 4:54am

starboy: so smart. using ur brain.

| 4:55am

You: :/

| 4:55am

starboy: titty pic?

| 4:56am

starboy: to celebrate only fucking 1 pair of tits.

| 4:56am

You: die.

| 4:57am

starboy: so hot when u talk dirty to me

| 4:57am

starboy: say it again.

| 4:58am

You: goodnight.

| 4:58am

starboy: gna cum

| 4:59am

starboy: kidding. lol. goodnight D.D.

You had tucked yourself into bed, the TV softly playing in the background as you fell asleep, the diffuser by your bed refreshing any hints of cigarette smoke that had seeped into your room. Peaceful. Peacefulness has been short-lived lately—now, your eyes snap open to the sound of your phone you forgot to silence.

“It’s half past five in the fucking morning, Jungkook.”

“Hey, D.D.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks softly into the phone. You should cuss him out, call him an idiot, hang up, and let yourself fall back to sleep, but instead, you push the phone closer to your ear.

“Hey.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃How EXO acts around their crush❃

a/n: This is 10000% just for my own pleasure. I may have had this in my drafts for weeks... I am totally okay with all the Kyungsoo solo content and EXO ladder dropping. Totally. Super functional, delusional who?

ALSO to any EXO-L that are sharing Chen's LEAKED wedding photos. Please be respectful and either delete them or, at the very least, blur out his wife's face. Chen has gone to great lengths to safeguard her privacy, as she is not famous nor wants to be in the spotlight. Not to mention that there could be crazy sasaengs out there with ill intent. Sharing her info is basically doxing, and it is insane to me how many people shared these posts without much thought. Anyway, I needed to share my frustrations.

Xiumin/Minseok:

✾ He is a lot shyer than the other members; where most of EXO probably feels comfortable enough to act on their crushes, he is a bit more reserved. He wants to test the waters first, ascertaining whether the feeling is mutual. Whenever you are around and are talking to other people, he sits back silently, observing your reactions.

✾ Xiumin is smiling so widely around you that the other members worry that his muscles might start cramping up soon. The moment he sees you, his bubbly personality starts to really shine through, and sometimes you can't help but wonder whether this man truly is 33.

✾ That being said, from the moment that anyone offers Xiumin a couple of drinks, his confidence spikes, and he will start flirting with you. His flirting is still extremely sweet and cute; Xiumin can be incredibly charming when he wants to be.

Suho/Junmyeon

✾ He is such a gentleman around you, trying to make you feel at ease with his kind gestures. Whether it is him pulling back a chair or opening a door for you, he will do anything to make you feel like a princess.

✾ Being one of EXO's proud black card owners, he will casually buy you whatever you need. He keeps repeating that he wants to treat his friends when you try to interject. You can't completely refute it; he does spend a lot of money on the members. Yet, you can't help but feel like his gifts are slightly too expensive and excessive for 'just friends'.

✾ So. Many. Soft. Glances. Suho looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars; you catch him staring at you almost every time you look over. Conversations with him can, therefore, be a tad awkward. He doesn't always register what you are saying; he is so absorbed in watching you that he forgets to listen.

✾ The other members relentlessly tease him for it. If you don't catch on based on Suho's actions, you will definitely catch on due to his members' relentless teasing. Whenever he does anything remotely romantic around you, their faces light up like Christmas came early. The members are not subtle about it whatsoever, thoroughly enjoying putting their leader in a slightly uncomfortable position.

Baekhyun:

✾ The members didn't think it was possible, but Baekhyun somehow became louder. It is as if he wants to draw your attention simply by screaming, as he no longer has any volume control when you are around. Everyone can hear your conversation from across the room, and his laughter becomes borderline obnoxious as it overpowers any other sound.

✾ He is such a tease and a suggestive one at that. Considering he has no problem revealing intimate, not suitable to be aired on national TV, details about the members' bodies, he won't have any trouble suggestively flirting with you. Where Xiumin's pick-up lines are cute, Baekhyun's are far from it. Give this man some holy water, Jesus.

✾ He is so intense with his flirting that it sometimes crosses the line of sexy to parody, coming off as a joke. Baekyhyun has a very flirty personality and isn't above flirting with his friends. Even though he isn't subtle about his crush, he can accidentally fall into the "he flirts with everyone" category, making you question whether he genuinely likes you or is just being friendly.

✾ He really enjoys the chase when it comes to relationships. Thus, it will take him quite some time before he asks you out, simply because he likes the push-and-pull game.

Chanyeol

✾ There is nothing subtle about Mr. Park Chanyeol. The moment he sees someone he wants to date, he is going for it full steam ahead. Puppy Chanyeol is momentarily retired as he makes his way over to you; Chanyeol knows that he is handsome and sexy, and he is ready to show it to you. I hope you weren't interested in anyone else because the moment you return any of his interest, he will be flirting with you like there is no tomorrow.

✾ Internally, he is so excited to be talking to you, and sometimes, you will see glimpses of his cute puppy-like persona, especially once he feels like you are just as interested. Still, the words coming out of this man's mouth, Jesus part two. Please go and ask Baekyhun to pass the holy water.

✾ That being said, he will get embarrassed when the other members are around or slightly bashful when you return his flirting at full force. I don't think Chanyeol is used to anyone sharing his level of intensity, so once you do, he gets a bit flustered. He absolutely loves it, though. Your compliments got him grinning from ear to ear.

D.O./Kyungsoo

✾ Don't get me wrong, I adore this man to a delusional extent, but he is absolutely hopeless when it comes to communicating with his crush. He won't go anywhere near you if he can't help it; he prefers looking at you from afar. He is someone who favours being approached first over approaching you himself. It isn't that he doesn't want to talk to you; he simply isn't the type of person to initiate contact with his crush and tends to stay back when he can tell that someone else is interested, too. 

✾ Even if he finds himself near you, don't expect him to have a full-blown conversation with you. He already tends to be a man of little words, but when it comes to you, he is a man of not a single word. Being around you is enough to make him happy; he doesn't really need to have a deep conversation. 

✾ Nevertheless, his actions make more than up for it. He is such a gentleman, being the definition of preferential treatment. You don't have a chair to sit on? He will quietly offer you his. Your sweater got caught on something? He will silently help you get it out. Although he may not say much to you, he communicates his feelings through his actions. 

Kai/Jongin

✾ If you think Xiumin or Kyungsoo are shy, you have not yet met Kai with a crush. He turns into absolute mush the moment he sees you, giggling and blushing whenever you do as much as breathing. You can't even see him because he has resorted to hiding behind the other members, preferably Sehun or Chanyeol, as they are tall enough to obscure him completely.

✾ If he somehow musters up the courage to talk to you, good luck having it go anywhere because he can barely make it through a sentence without giggling. It is obvious to everyone around him that he is smitten with you; his laughs are awkwardly loud, and his eyes are literally shooting hearts.

✾ The moment he manages to ask you to dance, his shy demeanour completely changes. His movement… His expressions… The way he is smirking at you… Maybe you should go and ask Chanyeol whether there is anything left of the holy water he borrowed from Baekyhun.

Sehun

✾ He has one of two ways of acting around his crush: either he acts super bratty or becomes painfully shy. It depends on whether he has met and talked to you before. But, if you are complete strangers, he would be so quiet, hiding in the furthest corner he can find.

✾ He will pester the members to go over and collect as much information as they can about you. They will do it because he will whine the entire night about it if they don't and, repeat with me, what Sehun wants, Sehun gets. The members try to convince Sehun to go talk to you himself, but Sehun stubbornly refuses. Bro will be playing the Maknae card harder than he ever has in his entire life.

✾ In the end, he will drag Suho with him, trying to 'casually' strike up a conversation with you. The small talk is painful, and in all honesty, Suho, with his dad jokes, isn't helping in the slightest. At the very least, it provides the two of you with a new conversational topic: the teasing of Suho.

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