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spideyhexx · 4 months ago

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oct. 1st - on trial

ModernLawStudent!Coriolanus Snow x Reader

mdni! cw; cunnilingus (yeah that's it ) wc; 2.6k

kinktober2024 masterlist

a/n; enjoy the first day of kinktober :) also the title does not make sense cause the plot changed mid-writing but i like the title so nobody speak on it

Coriolanus lets out a big sigh as the hot shower water cascades down his body.

If he could, he would erase the day from his memory. He woke up late, which means you woke up late, and both of you scrambled to get ready for your respective morning classes. You handled that easier, but Coriolanus was brimming with anxiety over the mere notion he might be late to class.

He sat through his first one of the day, hoping to dear god his stomach wouldn’t rumble too loudly since he did not have time to have a decent breakfast. All he ate was half a granola bar while walking to class and he learned very quickly it was not enough to satisfy him for even thirty minutes.

After the class, he treated himself to a breakfast sandwich from the campus’ best cafeteria. One plus of the day. But then his second class had a pop quiz. Which he promptly almost failed. Close enough to failing that he had to ignore your texts about something he can’t remember now.

He went to the library after to decompress. Coriolanus decompressed, however, by reading yet another book for his psych class which had a midterm coming up. He needed five sources and he was running thin, and the book his professor suggested to him was so long, he wanted to say some choice words in an email, but he held back.

He was a speedy reader anyway, it wouldn’t be so bad.

But it is bad. Coriolanus has to reread every other sentence because of the way this apparent academic scholar writes. He usually would pride himself on being able to handle some of the densest texts, but none of this was getting through to him.

To make matters worse, his grandmother kept him on the phone for an hour. Yes, an hour. She could not figure out her login for something and Coriolanus, being the ever so gracious grandson that he is, spent the time helping her, but by the time he hung up, he wanted to rip his hair out.

So yeah, the shower was good. Really fucking good. He pays attention to the time though, not wanting to take too long and use up all the hot water before you come home.

Coriolanus does the basics. He washes his body, rubbing every spot he can as if it will wipe the day clean. Give him a refresh. No shampoo today, since he cleaned his hair yesterday, but he does wet it, smoothing his hands back against his wettened curls so it’s out of his eyes.

He turns the shower off and grabs the towel hanging on the hook, drying off a bit of his chest, ruffling it in his hair, then he wraps it around his waist, stepping onto the bathmat in front of the sink mirror.

With a washcloth, Coriolanus wipes the steam from the mirror, then opens the right side drawer of the counter to take out his skincare.

He almost feels a bit of relaxed excitement in the tips of his fingers that he’s finally at the end of his day. Like all is well and soon you’ll be home, and he can cuddle up with you and listen to you ramble about whatever show you’ve been watching. He never tells you how much he loves that, but he’s sure you know.

Coriolanus clips the front curls of his hair back so they don’t get in his face, opting for the soft pink ones that you compliment all the time.

Right as he grabs his cleanser, he hears the front door open and close shut. He smiles at himself in the mirror, rinsing his hands in the sink.

He can hear a muffled groan from you, then the sound of a cabinet closing a bit louder than it should be.

Coriolanus already opens his mouth to speak right when there are three incessant knocks on the bathroom door, “Are you-,” he cuts himself off, “Come in.”

The door opens, revealing an exasperated-looking you, rivaling Coriolanus’ freshly showered ease. He raises his brow, “What? What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t get those cookies I asked you to pick up,” you say, and in any other circumstance, he might laugh at the statement, since it sounded so minuscule, but the look on your face told him to keep that in.

“You asked me to get cookies?”

You roll your eyes, “I texted you like three times if you could pick them up for me.”

Oh. The texts he ignored. He gives a sheepish smile, “Oh, I’m sorry, I just had a bad day and-”

“Yeah, so did I, but you can’t ignore my texts, Coriolanus, even if you couldn’t go to the store or whatever, I would’ve appreciated you responding or something.”

He nods. But his face returns to its blank slate which he could tell annoyed you. “What happened?”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face as you lean against the doorway. He can tell you’re trying not to look at his stomach and his cheeks heat up at the thought of that.

“It’s not worth it, just a shitty day and you always do this. You always ignore my texts when I’m asking for something.”

“I didn’t open the text, I didn’t know,” Coriolanus says, his voice more soft than defensive, but you take it that way. How could you not? You’re already so worked up from your day. You feel bad he also had a not-so-kind day, but you can say full-heartedly that you would text him back regardless if the day was going bad.

Coriolanus was a good boyfriend, but he was also an awful texter.

“You should have opened it,” you tell him and he nods, fingers fiddling with the edge of his towel at his hip. You can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose to entice you or if he’s just nervous.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened? Besides the waking up late thing.” Coriolanus raises his brow at you, and your eyes dart to the pink clips in his hair.

“Ran into Festus,” you mutter and it earns a scoff from Coriolanus. That vapid human was the bane of his existence and your ex rolled into one. He couldn’t believe you even dated a guy like that. Coriolanus was sure you were joking when you told him that Festus was an ex. You were not.

“Vague,” he calls you out for how short your explanation is, and he wants to hear the details so bad. He knows you’ll never go back to him, so the little blip of jealousy in the pit of his stomach is only there for a few seconds before it vanishes. But Festus had to have said something to you for you to deem your entire day as, ‘shitty.’

Coriolanus can tell you don’t want to talk about it. So as the silence lingers on in the still-hot bathroom from his shower, he lets out his own sigh. He reaches for your wrist, which you reluctantly let him take.

“I really wanted those cookies,” you mumble, as he pulls you closer, until your back against the bathroom counter next to him.

“I’ll go out and get them,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles to your inner wrist, sending a bit of heat into your skin.

His words make you stiffen a little and you study his face with a furrowed brow, “You hate going out after your showers.”

He replies immediately, “I do,” and his voice comes out more like a whisper. Your hand is brought to his side, and you naturally caress your fingertips to his stomach, feeling the bit of muscle there, just as his head dips down to kiss the side of your neck.

“Thank you, then,” you whisper back, although you don’t need to. It’s just the two of you in this apartment. In this bathroom. The warmth from his shower starting to get to you. Coriolanus raises his head back and looks over your face. He’s contemplating. You know the look well.

But you can only watch it for a few seconds because he’s made a decision. Unceremoniously, Coriolanus kneels on the tiled ground in front of you, head tilted up to see your face. His nose twitches and he grabs his discarded pants, putting them under his knees so they don’t get uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing?” You could take a guess, but with Coriolanus, sometimes your guesses were always more fun than what he had in store.

His eyes lock to the space between your legs, then back up at you.

Nevermind. What he had in store sounds fun as fuck.

Coriolanus’ hands touch your knees, then slowly caress their way up to the top of your thighs, “Yes?”

He is not sure what’s compelled him to do this, seeing as he’s never eaten you out in this way before. Maybe it was your annoyance. Maybe it sparked something in him he did not want to admit to. Maybe it’s the fact you were staring at his mostly naked figure and he wanted you to join him on that front. It’s mostly the annoyance.

You nod, “Yeah,” and his fingers, shaky yet quickly, undo the button and zipper of your pants.

He tugs them down, then remembers your shoes. With a curse under his breath, Coriolanus unties your sneakers and takes them off you, tugging your pants off the rest of the way, then trailing his hands back up your legs.

You rest back against the counter, both hands against the cool stone of it as his breath hits your inner thigh.

No matter how much it stirs a giddy feeling in him, Coriolanus can’t take his eyes off of your face as he leaves the softest of kisses on your thigh. He’s been between your legs so many times, but every time feels like he’s discovering some new part of you, like there must be an area of your skin he hasn’t touched, that’s begging for his lips to grace it. Your breath is hitching andyour hand rests on his head.

He nuzzles his head against your other thigh as his teeth graze the skin right at the edge of your underwear.

The exhale you let out causes tingles to spread throughout his body, “too slow?”

“No,” you tell him, your fingers lightly threading into his semi-wet hair. Coryo flattens his tongue on the skin of your inner thigh, licking up to the edge of your panties. He skims his tongue along the line until he gets to your hip. A small kiss lands on it, and you let out a breathy chuckle, “Maybe a little too slow.”

He smiles, tracing his tongue back down to the dip of your thigh, and feels you tighten your hand to his hair.

“Maybe we should-oh.”

You’re cut off by the press of his nose over the cotton of your panties, his tongue flicking out to lick against the cloth as his hands rub to your hips, toying with the waistband.

“Mhm,” he replies, rubbing his nose against you at a slow, languid pace, the smell of you enticing him, he curses silently at himself for not doing this for you recently.

“Coryo,” you breathe out, and he mumbles an apology that makes you laugh.

“What? No, no sorry, this is…oh my god,” your voice trails off as he presses a wet kiss right over where your clit is.

Not able to keep this going much longer, Coriolanus tugs your underwear down, letting you kick them off, and he gives you no time to say anything. He buries his nose into you, groaning at the wetness you’ve accumulated from all of his previous actions.

Both of your hands find his hair, messing up the clips that are still there, but not knocking them out. His eyes watch you, hooded and dazed from the taste of you. The way his tongue teases your entrance, dipping in for only a second before moving out, has you whining for him already.

He moves up to your clit, swirling with the muscle of his tongue and sucking it to his mouth, relishing in the way you pull his hair.

You let him dig his hands into your thighs, half to hold you up for him and because the strong grip is one you feel only now and then with him. He always expressed not wanting to bruise you like that, but you wanted his tight hold on you.

“Coryo, shit, shit,” you mutter as he sucks on the sensitive bud more harshly, then licks his tongue back to your entrance, lapping against you like a needy dog looking for water.

“Mhm mmm,” he mumbles against you, fingers pressing into the back of your thighs like he’s urging you forward.

But he pulls back a little, lips shiny and red, the ache in his lower region increasing from the whimper you let out at the loss of contact. He splotches kisses on your thigh, “It’s okay…it’s okay, I’m gonna make you come, just give me a moment.”

You notice how heavy his breath is, almost as if he’s on the verge of finishing himself, but he steels himself quickly. His kisses never stop, caressing every part of your inner thighs, before he trails back to your cunt, lapping eagerly, and smiling when you moan at the contact.

“I know, that’s what you wanted,” he mumbles, his hands slipping up to your ass and pushing you to his face.

“Fuck,” you grunt out, unable to stop the jerk of your hips from his touch. Coriolanus’ eyes close at the movement, feeling his nose bump back into you. You give another test, but it’s awkward from this angle.

Coriolanus can’t think. Your taste, your sounds, the fact he can feel you pulse as he licks you, he’s sent into a complete overdrive.

He moves one of your legs up and over his shoulder, slotting him more comfortably between your legs and effectively making you gasp out and hold to him tighter.

“C’mon, do it now,” he encourages, pushing on your backside and helping you grind against his tongue. It snaps something inside of you. To rub yourself down on him and feel how hungry he is to take whatever you give him.

“God…fuck you for holding back on me,” you say through a moan. He’d laugh if he wasn’t buried in your pussy, desperate to taste the release fast approaching you, wracking through your body and waiting for that last chord to be struck.

You can’t recall when he’s been this insatiable, but you can’t complain. Maybe you two needed this.

“I’m so close,” you say, though you don’t need to. Your hips rock against his face, his nose catching and rubbing against your clit just right with every other thrust, and Coriolanus fucks his tongue as deep as he can in you. He tries to keep his eyes open as you let out a shaky moan, but it’s difficult. With your taste and with your hands tightening in his hair so hard it burns his scalp, he has to close his eyes as your orgasm rips through you.

Your hips stutter and he grips the backs of your thighs tighter, making sure you don’t fall. His tongue licks up everything he can until you feel too sensitive and gently push his head back. The hair clips hang on to his curls for dear life. You can see how hard he is under the white towel, begging for attention.

The whole bottom half of his face is wet. His mouth parted and his lips redder, almost swollen-looking.

“My knees hurt,” he whispers. And you lightly tap his cheek in a scolding manner, sending him a lazy grin.

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huellitaa · 10 months ago

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౨ৎ ⋆｡• vogue beauty secrets 🐰 ๋࣭ ⭑

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ hair

don't wash your hair every day! i think everybody knows this but i know a couple people who still dont wash their hair only 2-3 times a week. obviously it depends on ur hair type but only wash your hair when it needs it!

don't wash your hair with scalding hot water either. its not only bad for your body and face but its also bad for your hair as it ruins the natural oils and damages cells etc

if you have frizzy or easily knotted hair i recommend keeping a comb on hand in the shower and using it to detangle before putting in any products

i've been emulsifying my shampoo for only a couple of weeks but my hair is sooo much fluffier afterwards so i definitely recommend that!!

now i'm torn on this one but apparently shampooing twice is better for your hair than doing it once? i tried it one time and it did not end well for my hair type but i know it works for a lot of people so if you wanna give it a try then go for it ♡

i squeeze excess water out of my hair before i put in my conditioner so i can completely get it in there without

also change your pillow case often! this is for your face too, as the oils will build up and thats not good for ur hair or face. i change it once a week but 2x a week is good too if you're able 💓

don't go to bed with wet hair. stop doing that. its super bad for your hair and keeping it pretty & fluffy & cute

airdrying is my holy grail, been doing it since i was little and dont regret a thing. its a billion times better than blow drying & makes ur hair so fluffy too ♡

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ body

DO NOT. HAVE. THE WATER. BOILING HOT. i am guilty of this and have been for years but it has such a bad impact and you shouldnt do it! cold showers are better but i prefer warm showers so theres a middle ground (& its always cold in england, so id freeze to death.)

using body lotion after the shower has been such a game changer for me its incredible. makes you smell nice, feel nice, look nice, and its so relaxing and i feel like a princess after i do it <3

exfoliating is really important if your aim is for soft skin 💓 i have been doing it for months and as somebody with super rough skin its SO soft now

partake in some form of exercise. i hated hated hated sports and exercise when i was younger but i did do dance up until i was eleven and have been doing pilates consistently for months now, and my mindset towards it has changed drastically over the years to finally a healthy one. it can be a difficult thing to get into but make it something you enjoy. it doesn't have to be sports. ill make a post on this soon but it can be pilates, kpop dances, running, hot girl walks, anything! and most importantly, do it for mental health and physical health, not losing weight.

make sure you're eating properly. remember that 1400 to 2400 calories of nutritious substance is the MINIMUM. this of course depends on many variables including, weight, height, BMR, what it is your eating, et cetera. your body is so important & is there to be nourished and not neglected !!! ♡ (💭🎀edit: updated info on calories and nutrition from a lovely anon i received a message from this morning! ♡)

change your bedsheets every week if you wanna smell good, this is so important bc sweat and odour will build up if u dont and thats icky and wont make u smell good & probably isnt the best for your skin either!

i also put two similar body washes on in the shower that i get SO many compliments on & its really helpful if one of your priorities is smelling good

dont just wash body wash straight off, let it sit for a few moments so the scent can actually sink into ur skin

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ face

skincare every morning & every night. if ur tired or just not feeling it today then simplify it, just make sure you never leave it out because its super important! no. skipping. no work = no reward.

on this note, try not to have a too complicated skincare routine, as this can backfire and make ur skin worse than before. your skin isnt meant for 18 different products and 200 chemicals every morning!

never wash your face with hot water... this is also a given but just in case... it strips your skin of its natural oils and does more harm than good

stop touching ur face... just for those who need a little reminder

make sure ur sleeping enough. seriously disney princess movies meant it when they talked ab beauty sleep; it seriously makes a difference, so please try make this a priority, especially if you already have dark circles like myself! (like girl did you see aurora's face? my girl's skin was so clear i could see my reflection)

pay attention to what makes ur face puffy or irritated or makes you get break outs. i keep a little break out log in my skincare page in my journal (little teaser for an upcoming post 🤭) and this has helped me go over what helps or hurts my skin! i recommend this especially if ur prone to acne or breakouts 💖

cold spoons in the morning to depuff your eyes; ive only been doing this a handful of times but im making it a habit seeing as it really helps! (as someone who can get vv puffy eyes 😭)

hydration is so important, for everything in this list, but most of all (from my experience) your face! i drink A Lot of water every day. probably a bit too much. but its so worth it, my skin has been absolutely amazing ever since i started actually making hydration a priority. (and this is coming from a girl who didnt touch a drop of water when she was younger & had to go hospital for dehydration several times.)

i'd recommend scrubbing ur lips too in the morning when you brush your teeth, i saw this on pinterest aaages ago bc i had super dry lips and i do it every morning & every night RELIGIOUSLY. its so so good and i definitely recommend

i have super dry lips in the morning so lip balm in the mornings w my skincare is absolutely essential for me

i also put perfume behind my ears & on my neck so its the first thing people smell when they hug me! im a very touchy person and i love hugs and i love showing love to people so this is essential for me but its optional, just makes you smell good ♡

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bahrtofane · 1 year ago

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kylians sick, and only you can make him feel better

word count - 1.1 k+

watch it - pure fluff ^^

-----

kylian feels like shit. a pile of straight garbage. what he thought was a small headache and stuffy nose has snowballed full force into the worst cold he’s had since he was like 5. at least he hopes it’s just a cold.

his eyes droop wet and cloudy with the tears that he keeps blinking away. he desperately wants to go to sleep but the constant leaking of his nose and the feeling of being permanently submerged in water from his ears down is making that impossible. his left ear hurts with each movement of his head, god forbid he yaws, not only does it send a shock wave of pain to his ear but also makes the swelling of his sore throat that much more apparent.

his head pounds, phone long forgotten somewhere tossed on the floor. and to top it all off he thinks he’s running a fever. it’s so cold, no matter how hard he tries to sink deeper into his mattress, hugging his comforter tighter, he can’t fight the constant chill that creeps up his spine.

it’s around 2 am last time he checked. god fucking dammit he just needs to go to bed. he so desperately wishes you were here, to kiss away his frustrated tears, tuck him into bed properly, make him feel better. but he doesn’t want to bother you. especially not at this time. he can power through this, he knows he can.

hours pass by in agony. the sweat has pooled in his sheets, sticking it to him and permanently settling in a cold he can’t shake off. it’s shit. he feels like shit. he probably smells like it too. And to make everything so much fucking better training is first thing tomorrow morning. Shit shit shit shit.

why does this always happen to him at the most inconvenient of times. what it the hair he didn’t dry off before bed 2 days ago? the coat he didn’t wear when taking the trash out? ice water he drank after practice? holy fucking shit, he writhes in his sheets and comforters again, silently praying to any entity out there to end this suffering.

the pain and exhaustion is what knocks him out. for better or worse.

——-

kylian eyes open blearily, blinking away harsh rays of sunlight and crusties from the restless night. when he wakes he realizes one of two things, 1) it’s way, way, past training, and 2) he feels impossibly worse.

he doesn’t get out of bed, mainly because he just can’t. the pain has immobilized him, fearing if he so much as moves an inch it’ll sink him further into helpless suffering.

so he whines pitifully and closes his eyes tight.

——-

he’s woken up again, but not by the sun, or pain. it’s the sound of his door opening that startles him awake. lovely, absolutely marvelous. he’s fucking bed ridden and about to be robbed. what a time to be alive.

the footsteps don’t sound like an intruders, soft and gentle as they pad around his apartment. kylian waits in silence. what if it’s someone sent to check on him? hakimi most likely.

when the door to his room opens he’s never been happier to be wrong.

it’s you, standing in his hoodie, wrapped in one of the blankets he leaves on the couch. a god send.

you take one look at his feeble state and frown.

“kyky?”

all he can do is manage a garbled response, more of a pitiful whine.

you rush over, kicking the blanket off and rushing up to cup his face in your hands.

“my sweet baby, are you sick?” you murmur.

a weak nod.

“shit you're burning up, hold on.”

you come back with a thermometer, gently opening his mouth and setting it under his tongue.

“hold still baby.” you whisper, hand holding his jaw in place, he almost melts into your touch.

he waits for what feels like hours, till the little beeps go off and you gently remove the plastic from his mouth.

“you have a fever all right. i prescribe to you bed rest, lots of fluids, and tylenol for the pain. “

he blinks sleepy and you take that as an answer.

you get to work tidying up his room for him while he blinky sleepily as you.

"just rest, I'll call the team for you."

he goes back to the safety of sleep the moment you finish your sentence.

—--

when he wakes out yet again, its to you at the foot of his bed, and a bowl of spoop in hand.

he grimaces at the thought but you shake your head, "you gotta eat baby."

he all but sobs trying to get up to eat properly, but you make it work. gently spooning the hot soup into his mouth.

it takes a little while but the soup is half done when he calls it quits. flopping back into his expanse of pillows and blankets.

he makes a noise and you feel his hand desperately reaching for you, as meek as can be. you give it to him, gently swiping your thumb over his.

bed time proves to be a hassle as all he can do is groan in pain, begging for you to join him in the very few words he can croak out.

“if i get sick, who will take care of you? “

he stays silent, out of spite or inability remains a mystery as you tuck him into bed properly and take your things to the guest room.

——-

thankfully, it is just a cold and he’s back to his usual self in no more than 3 days. all thanks to you.

he’s a quiet type of thanker, thanks lies in his actions and eyes rather than words.

the gentle hand that rests on the small of your back, picking you up even if its just a 5 minute drive. he gets you flowers, and even takes you out to dinner.

your smiles the whole way and it makes him beyond happy.

he finally gets those kisses he wanted to bad, easy and smooth against his skin.

"thank you darling." he hums, hands on your waist, bringing you close.

you smile against his lips, melting into them once more. you sit on his lap at the edge of his bed. at the edge of the world you feel sometimes.

"come to the match?" he almost begs.

"always."

"I have a jersey I want to see you in." he plays with the hem of your shirt.

"when do you not want to see me in your jersey?" you playfully roll your eyes.

he snorts, flipping you into your back, mercilessly attacking your sides with tickles as you burst at the seams.

you laugh till you cant breath, and he's enjoying this all too much. collapsing into you when he's had enough.

"your heavy." you squeak.

he pretends not to listen, you resort to kicking him off.

"wheres this jersey ?"

he immediately jumps at this, taking your hand in his to lead you to your 50th jersey of his at this point. you don't mind, if anything it fills you with pride and joy to wear his jerseys. always his.

#kylian mbappe #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #kylian x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian fanfic #kylian mbappe imagines #football headcanon #football imagine #kylian mbappe imagine

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gremlinmodetweeker · 5 months ago

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König of the Icks

I’m sorry y’all, König is an ick magnet. He’s such an awful human being. Not because he’s genuinely vile or awful or morally fucked (okay a bit morally fucked), but simply because he does so many things that give the ick. He’s King of the Icks. He really is. He’s awful. So, with me breaking your bubble, let’s go over a few of the icks that I think are most prevalent. More posts of König icks to come.

König wears socks and sandals. Or socks and crocs. He’s awful. He only does it when he’s wading in the water, meaning he’ll walk around in wet socks for about an hour afterwards until they dry out. It’s so disgusting I cannot stress how awful it is. He tries to tell people that it’s safer and more comfortable, but he looks awful. It’s a fashion nightmare. No human should be wearing socks and sandals while wading in the water. In all fairness, he’s right, it does keep his feet safe, but does he really need the socks???

He wears clothes in the wrong size almost all the time. You tried to get him clothes in the right size, but he rarely wears them. He wears clothes too large because he says it’s ‘comfy’ but he looks like a slob. He’s so disgusting it hurts. He doesn’t even treat his clothes well because they collect spills and stains as he wears them for multiple days in a row. He’s had someone ask if he needs money for a bus ticket before. It was the one time in his life he realized how other people saw him. He’s since started to try to wear nicer clothing when going out. Around the house though? He looks terrible.

This wouldn’t be so much of an issue if he weren’t such a messy eater. He may look like a slob, but normally he’s very clean and neat in his habits. He cleans dishes immediately after using them, he sweeps and mops regularly, he has good personal hygiene and takes care of himself. He’s a generally clean person. That is until he sits down to eat. It’s awful because he takes bites that are too big and then it’ll fall out of his mouth and onto his shirt. He’ll then suck the stain to ‘get it out’ but it just makes things worse. He also uses his shirt as a napkin or towel, depending on the situation. He’ll also make pretty loud sounds when he eats, especially when he’s eating noodles or slurping a smoothie. If you think you’re lucky and these will be rare instances, he has a protein shake every morning and will have a bowl of buttered noodles at least once every other day (usually more).

Along this line, König got in deep shit for not having a white shirt when he was a new recruit. They asked him why he wasn’t wearing a white shirt, and he told them that it was, in fact, the standard issue white shirt. The sergeant pointed at all the other recruits in bleach white shirts, and then back at König’s grey shirt. They got into a huge argument, only for the drill sergeant to pale when he spun König around and read the tag because this grey piece of shit was a white t-shirt all along

König is an excellent cook. Why is this an ick? Because he doesn’t cook. He could, if he tried, but he’s too lazy so he just throws a day-old grilled cheese in the microwave and calls it done. He then has the nerve to complain that he’s hungry when all he’s eaten are old chips and candy bars. The only time he’ll consider cooking is if you ask him to cook or if he’s having company. Otherwise he will eat trash and you cannot stop him. He will, however, once a week or so lay out a full meal. It's beautiful and delicious, but you know he'll be eating leftovers for days, and then go back to a day of only junk food, then he'll finally force himself to cook again.

On the topic of food, König refuses to accept that food can expire. Just straight up. He doesn’t believe in expiry dates. ‘It’s a best by date, not an expiry date’ is his motto and he pays for it. At this point, he has a designated sick bucket because he gives himself food poisoning so often. All the others soldiers can’t believe that he’s fine with the MREs, but you know that when he comes home, he’ll be chowing down on stale bread he found in his fridge with moldy cheese. It’s disgusting and you have to regularly clean his fridge, lest he get sick eating things. He will also fish things out of the trash, so you have to be tactical in how you remove things. It’s a dangerous game.

This is just the tip of the iceberg of my König ick list. I’m telling you all that this man is a gremlin, and we love him for it. Part of the joy of dating König is dealing with his icks and suffering.

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bunji-enthusiast · 11 months ago

Note

Scuttling back in to say;

YOU MAKE ME WANNA WRITE MORE STUFF SO BADDDDD ITS SO GOOD

Would there possibly be room for a Dogday & Catnap scenario where reader came in sick, because they simply refuse to take sick days, and those giants just hate seeing them like that and just take care/help with work?

Keep up the good work buddy, I LOVE EATING READING IT

Gentle Giants

Note || AHA- thank you!

WC || 1,152

Sypnosis || your fuzzy companion refuses to let you overwork yourself, even in sickness.

CatNap –

You had him CONCERNED, and he doesn’t feel like that rarely for anyone else. Right off the bat when you come into work he can tell you are sick, he voices his concerns with Bobby who he thought of having good advice for a situation like this. She had suggested that he help take the load off of your workload at least, as you were stubborn and proclaim you can do work all by yourself.

CatNap didn’t want you to ever accidentally hurt yourself, seeing as how you will go to every corner of the factory to get your duties done – even if you had some work to do as a caretaker, just a temporary one. He decided that he had enough of it, seeing as how you’d only get worse when you're working.

Halfway through your shift, he decided to intervene, picking you up around the waist and laying you on his back despite your many protests to leave you alone. CatNap retorted with an audible snort, refusing to relent against your words. He’s seen what happens to employees when they come in sick, not taking a sick day off. No way would he allow that to happen to you. You simply were far too precious to CatNap, you were; kind, patient and gentle with him, despite his many times that he had treated you a little… rudely.

The insomniac cat thought it would be best to bring you to his sleeping place, clean and unmarked of his scratches (though save for the few claw marks here and there against the walls). His stretchy tail had elongated far enough to pick you up by the waist again, which in hindsight did startle you a little as you had gotten used to being on his back for a long period of time. Gently, CatNap settled you on his bed, promptly laying you down in the proper position as if he had done this all before – with children, of course he’d have this experience to do so. You were tired, lethargic, simply just flopping against the orange mattress and finding comfort in how springy and just comforting it was.

Truth be told, he did admit to snatching you away. Only to another employee who asked where you were, they were understanding once he had pointed out you were sick. People needed rest after all, and the employee knew you were quite the stubborn type. CatNap had finally returned with a blanket that was draped over his shoulder, and a bucket of water he held in his mouth alongside the rotund rag that laid at the silver edge top of the bucket. He had steady motions, setting down the bucket that was hanging from his mouth beside the large mattress bed. Soon enough, he had also finally covered you with the blanket, quiet enough as to not wake you as he had seen you fall asleep in his absence.

At first, he wasn’t sure what to do with the rag, just sitting there at the top of the bucket. But soon enough he had found a solution. CatNap had found one of the brand new fresh miniature smiling critters, who was alive like he was and filled the rag with water, then laid it across your forehead.

CatNap was glad, though he knew the process of having to wet the rag over and over again as it can get dry after some time.

DogDay –

Cuddly, protective and very stern when needed. DogDay was happy at first to see you coming to work again, but overtime it became less of happiness and more so concerned as he began to realize you were most likely sick. He took his thoughts to Bubba, as he knew him to be smart and informative for the most part. Bubba had told him you just were most likely sick, knowing how you didn’t like taking sick days off even if you really truly were sick.

DogDay needed a plan, action to help lessen the load on your shoulders. He won’t stand for the fact that you are working actively while being sick at the same time, heck even a dog like him knew this! He wanted you to get some proper rest, but how was he actually gonna be able to do so? But as ever, DogDay remained to be looking on the bright side of this as he asked Bubba once again what he should do. Bubba was very smart in comparison to him, he wasn’t that well informed with sickness himself.

Bubba had suggested that he take half of your workload at least, so he went exactly to do that, people had eyed him for his weird out of place appearance outside of where one usually would find him. He didn’t really care for it, just continuing to do your work load without your knowledge. When you had gone to do your other duties, you were waved off, confused as to why – they had told you someone had already done it all for you.

You were practically already done with your work for the whole day, you had a sneaking suspicion that you knew who had done half the work load for you. When you went to confront DogDay, he had admitted under the weight of your glare, saying he had done the other 50% of your work because you were sick. You were surprised to say the least, touched at the thought he did it because he knew you were sick. But you never told him, which raised a few brows from you.

“Aha, angel.. Dogs can be good at noticing things better than humans normally do.” He said with a tinge of nervousness. You sighed, walking up to hug him despite the vast differences in size that was comparable between you and DogDay. He was elated to know you weren’t angry, bending down to hug you, finally he had you trapped. DogDay picked you up, which had elicited a yelp from you, feeling he had now carried you bridal-style.

DogDay had insisted you needed rest, taking you with him as you relented to his insistence. Truly he was a leader and a friend till the end.

Both –

When the both of them team up, there is no way you are getting away with working while you're sick. They both reassure each other what they are doing is okay, they both care about you very much. CatNap just kind of drags you away, bringing you to his bed while DogDay had walked alongside him, checking your forehead for how hot your fever may be.

Luckily, DogDay slipped away while CatNap had set you up to be in a comfortable position while you were sleeping. DogDay came back with a bucket of water and a rag to administer to keep your fever down as much as possible.

With these two, you practically have nothing to worry about.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #catnap poppy playtime #catnap

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

Text

Hangover

Ellie Carpenter x Reader

Summary: A holiday with your teammates

You sighed softly, relaxing in the afternoon sun.

You could hear your teammates splashing around in the water but you were happy sunbathing on the boat. They were all like children anyway and you definitely didn't want to get caught up in a game between them.

Kyra, particularly, seemed to be out for blood earlier when she'd hit you across the face with a pool noodle (you had no idea where she had even gotten one from) and then scampered off like a little gremlin to attack Charli.

Mini had run after her yelling about playing nice and you were happy to leave them to their carnage.

Vaguely, you could hear Sam shouting and you groaned. You wished you'd stayed in bed.

"Don't you look grumpy," A very familiar (and perhaps the only welcome) voice said.

You cracked open an eye to look at your girlfriend. "Tell them to shut up. My head hurts."

"You shouldn't have drank so much then," Ellie said with a laugh.

She was right but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and all but Alanna, Macca, Caitlin and you all ended up partying pretty hard last night and you had spent most of this morning hunched over the toilet as Ellie joined some of your other teammates for a morning run.

The sun was helping and the nap you had just woken up from was amazing but the lingering effects of your hangover made everything you did a little bit worse.

You look at her through squinted eyes underneath your sunglasses. "Alanna shouldn't have bet she could drink me under the table."

You were a competitive person and Alanna knew it. She also knew that you wouldn't get absolutely smashed unless she somehow goaded you into it.

You won but at a price.

"You didn't have to accept," Ellie laughed.

You ignored her then shrieked when she shook her wet hair out all over you.

Your scrambled away. "Ellie! I was trying to stay dry!"

"You were trying to be unsociable," She said, reaching out and pressing her cold, wet hand to your hip," Can't I tempt you to get in the water?"

You looked out across the bay with a scrutinising eye. Most of your teammates were already in the water having fun and you're pretty sure that you saw Kyra and Charli trying to drown each other.

"I'm fine here, babe."

You reached into the cooler and cracked open the bottom of a beer. It wouldn't be enough to get you drunk but it would be enough to take the edge off.

"Not even if I said please?" Ellie teased and you threw a towel at her.

"Not even then."

She groaned, plopping down next to you with a huff. She towel-dried her hair. "You're no fun."

"I'm plenty fun," You replied, taking another long drink before lying down again," We just have different definitions."

She laid down next to you. Her body was still cold and slightly wet but you didn't move away like you would have done earlier. Her finger drew patterns on your stomach as you snacked on the chocolates next to you.

You plucked some into your fingers and lifted it up to her mouth. She took it.

"Can I have some of your drink too?"

You grinned at her and moved it further out of her reach.

"Oh, come on!"

You stuck your tongue out. "Sorry, babe, I don't let girlfriends who mock me for my drinking habits have my alcohol."

"I wasn't mocking you!" Ellie reached over your body to grab the bottle but you just moved it further away again.

The water from her hair dripped onto your stomach and you rolled away. "Ellie!" You shrieked," Stop it! You're making me cold!"

"Oh, so I can't make you cold but I'm not allowed to drink your beer? You're so mean!"

You raised your drink mockingly at her before draining the rest. "I'm hungover, babe. Come back when I'm over it and maybe I'll be nicer."

"But I missed you!" She whined, going back to laying next to you, as close as she could without you complaining she was cold.

You turned your head to look at her, a small smile appearing on your face. "Yeah," You said begrudgingly," I guess I missed you too."

"But not enough to let me have a beer?"

"You're welcome to grab your own beer, babe, just not the one I drink from." You smirked, lowering your sunglasses to wink. "I don't want your cooties."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "You certainly wanted my cooties last night."

"And like a reliable girlfriend, you didn't take advantage of me. Thank you, babe." You leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"I thought you said I was too cold and wet to touch."

"You can just say that you don't want me to kiss you, babe."

She scoffed. "I always want to kiss you. But, you know, what I really want?"

"What do you really want?"

"A beer."

You pulled away with a pretend disappointed sigh. "You've ruined the moment."

"I just want a beer!" Ellie laughed.

"I'm using them," You replied," If you've forgotten I'm hungover. They're helping."

"And you can't share?" She batted her eyelashes as you and you rolled over, reaching for the cooler.

You cracked the lid and flicked it to the side. "Here, babe," You said," You can't say that I don't treat you well."

She grinned. "A whole beer to myself. I feel like royalty."

You flicked your sunglasses back over your eyes and shrugged. "Good. Glad I could help."

#woso x reader #ellie carpenter x reader #ellie carpenter #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 months ago

Text

Writing Notes: Frostbite

Frostbite - damage to the skin and other tissues caused by freezing.

Frostnip - a milder form of cold injury; it is sometimes described as the first stage of frostbite.

Some doctors use a 4-degree classification of injuries:

First-degree: The epidermis (outermost layer of the skin) is reddened, swollen, and may look waxy. There is also a loss of sensation in the affected skin.

Second-degree: The skin is reddened, swollen, and has formed blisters filled with a clear or milky fluid.

Third-degree: Blisters are filled with blood and the skin begins to turn black.

Fourth-degree: The epidermis, dermis, and underlying muscles, tendons, and bones are damaged.

The early stage of frostbite is sometimes called frostnip.

Short-term symptoms include:

loss of feeling or aching pain in the affected part,

followed by redness of the skin and

tissue swelling.

Unfortunately, a victim is often unaware of frostbite until someone else points it out because the frozen tissues are numb.

Long-term symptoms include:

intense pain in the affected part,

tingling sensations,

cracks in the skin,

dry skin,

loss of fingernails,

joint stiffness,

loss of bone or muscle tissue, and

increased sensitivity to cold.

If left untreated, frostbitten skin gradually darkens and blisters after a few hours.

Skin destroyed by frostbite is completely black, looks burnt, and may hang loosely from the underlying tissues.

Freezing of exposed tissues results in the formation of ice crystals inside the cell wall.

A variation of frostbite - mountain frostbite, which affects mountain climbers and others exposed to extremely cold temperatures at high altitude.

Combines tissue freezing with oxygen deprivation and general body dehydration.

TREATMENT

Frostnipped fingers are helped by:

blowing warm air on them or

holding them under one’s armpits.

Other frostnipped areas can be covered with warm hands.

The injured areas should never be rubbed.

While waiting for medical help to arrive, one should, if possible:

remove wet or tight clothing and

put on dry, loose clothing or wraps.

A splint and padding are used to protect the injured area.

The patient should not be allowed to walk on frostbitten toes or feet, as the weight of the body will cause further damage to tissue—unless walking is the only way the patient can get to shelter.

Rubbing the area with snow or anything else is dangerous.

The key to prehospital treatment is to avoid partial thawing and refreezing.

This releases more inflammatory mediators and makes the injury substantially worse.

For this reason, the affected part must be kept away from such heat sources as campfires and car heaters.

The injured person should not be given alcohol or tranquilizers, as these will increase loss of body heat.

Experts advise rewarming in the field only when emergency help will take more than 2 hours to arrive and refreezing can be prevented.

Because the outcome of a frostbite injury cannot be predicted at first, all hospital treatment follows the same route.

Treatment begins by rewarming the affected part for 15–30 minutes in water at a temperature of 104–108°F (40–42.2°C). This rapid rewarming halts ice crystal formation and dilates narrowed blood vessels.

Aloe vera (which acts against inflammatory mediators) is applied to the affected part, which is then splinted, elevated, and wrapped in a dressing.

Depending on the extent of injury, blisters may be debrided (cleaned by removing foreign material) or simply covered with aloe vera.

Except when injury is minimal, treatment generally requires a hospital stay of several days, during which hydrotherapy and physical therapy are used to restore the affected part to health.

Experts recommend a cautious approach to tissue removal, and advise that 22–45 days must pass before a decision on amputation can safely be made.

If frostbitten skin is not treated and its blood vessels are affected, gangrene may set in.

Gangrene is the death of soft tissue due to loss of blood supply.

It may be treated by surgical removal of the affected tissue if caught early; otherwise, the surgeon may have to amputate the affected digit or limb to prevent bacterial infections from spreading from the dead tissue to the rest of the body.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Realistic Injuries

#writing reference #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #literature #writing inspiration #writing notes #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #writing ideas #creative writing #fiction #medicine #frostbite #writing resources

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clubdionysus · 5 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #60] Obduracy

warnings: starlovers!!!! <33 i really luv jimin in this one hehehe, lots of callbacks to earlier chapters!! fingering, pretty tame by their standards!!! but kinda semi-public? i mean they're at home but like... kitchen?? i dunno up to you to decide!

a/n: this one doesnt have a little cover image :( had to make it fresh :( the first non wattpad chapter :( waaaa. im hoping to having something new ready for you tomorrow hehehehhe

wc: 8.3K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk wears his hangovers incredibly well. Like an oversized shirt draped over his broad shoulders, it billows down his body, leaving you to guess what's hidden underneath.

It's hard to tell if he's suffering like you are, for his face gives nothing but contentment away.

Hair messy and dishevelled, it sits like an unruly crown on his head as he washes dishes left from the evening before. A soft smile lingers on his lips as he hums along to the song quietly playing through the kitchen speaker, his voice far prettier than the original singer. The king of his very own kitchen, there's an innate flick to his wrists as he shakes water off steel bowls and pops them on the drying rack.

Chest bare, he pays it no mind when tiny flecks of warm water splash against his skin.

Vines of ink trail up his arm and onto his shoulder. His self-modification proves he wasn't born from gold but rather polished to resemble something like it.

In a way, it makes him so much more valuable. Or at least it does to you.

As you watch on from a bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, chatting with him about the events of the night before, you wonder how it's possible for a man with a smile like his to have a body like that.

The maths just doesn't compute, but you've never been great with numbers. Have always been more drawn to art—and God, what a work Jeongguk is.

Quite the contrary, you wear your hangovers with far less grace.

There's glitter all over your skin, and your hair looks more like a bird's nest than a crown.

In front of you sits a barely touched glass of water and two Tylenol tablets yet to be taken. The thud in your head has only intensified since you woke up with a dry throat and achy body, but you're trying to push through it.

"You're only making it worse," Jeongguk softly scolds you when you whine and slump down to rest your head on the countertop. "Don't be so stubborn."

When he talks like that, all assertive and domineering, it only makes you wanna be even more stubborn. It's in part thanks to your defiant nature, but also in part due to your desperation to have him use that tone of voice with you again.

"I can defeat it," you whine against the cold stone, a pathetic moan humming in your throat.

With your hair still damp from your shower, you find yourself irritated by how quickly Jeongguk's hair dries compared to yours. It's your own fault, for you're the one who insists on changing its colour with the seasons, but it annoys you nonetheless.

Then again, everything irritates you when you're this hungover.

Truth be told, you'd happily get your hair wet all over again, if it meant you got to indulge in another shower with Jeongguk. Want nothing more than to relieve the way it feels for him to shampoo your hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circular motions against your scalp. If the restaurant doesn't work out, he could always opt to be a hairdresser, you think, then mentally reprimand yourself for daring to even think of a scenario in which the restaurant doesn't work out. Would never forgive yourself if you jinxed it.

Jeongguk doesn't mind the grouchiness that comes with your hangovers, 'cause they always come with an added side of clinginess, too. You had wrapped around him like a koala bear for that entire shower. Had your cheek to his chest, arms tightly locked around his back, eyes firmly closed as he washed your hair.

Gorgeous girl, he thinks to himself, then resumes the stern telling off he was giving you. Just wants you to feel okay, that's all. Knows you're too determined for your own good, sometimes.

"Clearly," he almost scoffs, not mean but definitely a little curt. His head's killing him, too. He just hides it better. Swinging open the fridge, he grabs a bottle of water—2 litres—and cracks open the seal. "Take your pills, or I won't get you anything when I order breakfast."

"Gguk," you whine, slowly sitting up straight to look at him with the biggest pout. Head tipped back, he's chugging on his water straight from the bottle at such a rate you're surprised he doesn't choke.

By the time he's finished, he's practically at the halfway point of the bottle. Shaking his head, he swallows his last mouthful down. Pants, a little. Says, "Water, pills, now."

Narrowing your eyes, you finally do as you're told, but make sure to say, "You're mean."

Jeongguk just shakes his head. "I love you."

With your eyes on his, you try your hardest not to show any sign of weakness—but when he presses his lips into a thin, curved line and smiles in a way that makes it impossible to fight, you can't help yourself.

"Fine," you strop regardless, tossing your pills back and swallowing them down with a chug of water.

"See," he softly says in a way that is both patronising yet ever so gentle.

He walks around the counter to stand beside you, and welcomes the innate way your hand reaches up to hold his waist. He's just the same in how his hand cradles your cheek, keeping your face angled to look up towards him.

"Wasn't so hard, was it, baby?" He gently toys.

"You're the worst," you assure him, 'cause he knows he's being a little git right now.

And so, just like the last incredibly soft insult thrown his way, he fends it off by saying, "I love you."

"If you really loved me, you would have let me stay in bed."

"We have shit to do today, B," he reminds you. "I forced you up because I love you. Now, don't be rude. Say it back."

Jeongguk's ability to demand you say such heavy, ardent words is nothing short of a miracle.

When you first met Jeongguk, the idea of him being so straightforward and forthcoming with his own feelings felt like an impossible task. Yet here he is, unafraid to tell you how much he cares for you, and unashamed to ask for reciprocation.

Tugging him a little closer, you rest your pointed chin against his sternum, and get him looking down towards you.

Quietly, you whisper, "You know I love you."

"Say it again," he demands once more, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on yours as he speaks.

"I love you."

He smiles, now. Nods.

"Good," he says, then pulls away to grab his phone and open up a delivery app. Has his favourite cafe pinned to the top. Clicks through to the menu without a second thought, muscle memory prevailing. "French toast? Iced coffee?"

"You know me so well," you hum with a pleasant smile, hopping off the bar stool and meandering over to Jeongguk's sofa.

He follows you without hesitation and tugs the blanket from the armchair as he does so. You're wearing one of his shirts, and he's just in a pair of sweats, so a blanket seems like a sensible choice for now.

Jimin still hasn't risen from his pit, and Nabi's clothes are still in the living room—just in a neat pile now, thanks to Jeongguk's innate need for a clean space to ensure he can power through his hangover.

"You reckon they're gonna wake up soon?" You ask Jeongguk as he snuggles in beside you, flicking on the television.

"Not a chance," he laughs. "Nabi's probably gonna escape out his bedroom window or something like that. Spent years denying there was anything going on, and I don't think her pride will be able to take the hit of being wrong."

"You never know," you begin to playfully theorise. "Maybe they're just friends."

"Have you forgotten getting home last night?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean, I shagged you plenty of times, and we've always just been friends."

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "We've never been just friends."

"No?"

"No," he says with a cocksure confidence that has been earned over many months of knowing you as intimately as he does. Smiling as you roll your eyes, you don't bother fighting back. It's a losing cause. "We're best friends. Duh."

If you could have it your way, the day would be spent exactly like this—cuddled up on Jeongguk's sofa without a care in the world—but you've got work to do.

The gallery needs to be cleaned up from the night before. It's not a huge amount of work, but still tedious labour that you'd rather not do with a raging headache. One of the reasons you're given such liberty with the gallery space is because you always make sure it's left without a trace, and so you know you need to get it sorted sooner rather than later.

Jeongguk's offered to help out, 'cause his day is empty. Other than discussing the business with Yoongi, his agenda is remarkably clear, and if he's being honest, the last thing he wants is to talk about the restaurant.

See, Jeongguk worries. He's got everything in the palm of his hand—his girl, his dreams, his future. All it takes is one misstep, and he could lose everything.

Comfort is found in you. Solace.

"Smell good," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck, sinking into a more comfortable position snuggled up against you. Doesn't kiss you, but he does let his lips trail up your skin in a way that promises he eventually will.

"Smell like you," you sweetly reply, 'cause none of your things have made their way into his home yet. The shampoo you use is his. The shower gel, the moisturiser, the suncream. It's all him—and you love nothing more than going home with such innocent reminders of him on your skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. That's exactly why he likes it so much. The silage of you is the signpost of him. "Mine."

Any gap between you (which admittedly isn't much at all) is eliminated with the way Jeongguk drags you into his embrace. It's the kind of hug that can only be described as acceptance: there is no you, nor him. Just the pair of you, together.

It's dangerous territory to embark upon, with such reliance on another person, but it's also a path that you just can't seem to resist.

Laced in berries, the hedgerows of this rambling walk you're strolling down together keep you going forward. Occasionally, you'll stop. Smell the roses. Pluck a berry here or there. Pause when you hear the noise of a wild beast in the forest that surrounds you, or the threatening echo of a farmer and his gun.

But then forwards, you'll go. Destination, unknown. Wherever you end up is exactly where you'll need to be.

The wait for food is wasted away together, dumb conversations about nothing and anything that comes to mind. Jeongguk toys with your fingers. Plays with your rings. Strokes the pad of his index finger over the small callous on your middle one.

"Used to be worse," you acknowledge, holding up your hand to study it. Back when you were in school, the amount of writing and doodling you did meant a callous was inevitable. Now that you're out of the habit of doodling, and far less likely to spend hours writing by hand, it's softened. Almost looks as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Part of your history that is slowly fading away.

One day, you won't be able to recall any part of your life that isn't inexplicitly saturated by him.

He holds up his own hands. Studies them against yours. It's like some juvenile flirt, comparing hand sizes, as if your legs aren't tangled with his, and his other hand isn't wedged between your thighs.

You're not learning anything new. Are revising, for a lack of a better term. Just like you used to do with the birds, when you wanted any excuse you could use to be intimate with one another.

It's different now, you suppose. Intimacy. How you view it. Just isn't what it once was.

Things that used to be sacred to you are now second nature.

Glancing across to Jeongguk as he natters on about the deep line that runs along his palm, and how it signals he's destined for greatness, you realise there's an ache blooming in your chest.

His pouty lips rabbit on, dark eyes occasionally fluttering across to you, then back to his hand.

There's a vulnerability to him. It's his eyes, you think, and their need to check in on you. He's making sure you're listening. Interested. Aren't bored or waiting for him to shut up. It's a somewhat nervous habit of his, stemming from the fact he doesn't ever really talk this much with anyone else.

In a way that no one else is lucky enough to experience, Jeongguk opens himself up to you. About the big and the bad, the emotional and the heavy, but also about the small, lovely, lightweight things, too. Weather talk, mindless chatter he'd never bother engaging in with other people.

He talks of superstitions and legends, movies he watched as a kid, and dreams he had overnight—a stream of consciousness, all for you.

See, Jeongguk talks.

Around you, he talks and talks and talks.

If his mother could see him like this, she'd be gobsmacked. He's always been the more quiet one of her sons. Reserved. Cautious to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.

But he's childlike in his eagerness to share with you, Bambi eyes wide and sparkling, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip whenever he leaves enough room for you to respond.

Time is lost in conversation until his doorbell chimes—a notice of food arriving.

"Go get changed," you say, tapping on his knee as you get to your feet. "I'll sort out breakfast."

Nodding, he does as he's told, lightly spanking your ass before heading to his room. Glancing over your shoulder, you feign a little hurt.

"I'll kiss it better," he promises, and you know he will.

The curse of his devotion to you means he can never lie.

He can, however, keep secrets. Small ones. Teeny tiny ones that will have no consequence other than to make you melt when he finally reveals them.

Checking his phone, Jeongguk smiles to himself when he notices a notification of confirmation—plans made now rolling into motion. You cope with surprises far better than he does. Appreciate the romanticism of it all. He's sure you'll like it.

When he comes back into the kitchen, you have to hold in a desperate groan. Who gave him the right to look like that? And how many cats did you save from trees in a previous life to deserve it?

Dressed for the gym, he's in a pair of dark shorts that sit on his hips as if they were made just for him. The contours of his upper body are on display for everyone to see, a tight black compression shirt outlining the ridges on his chest.

The silver chain he always wears is tucked outside of the shirt, 'cause he doesn't like the pressure of the fabric on top of it, and his hair lays flat against his head. He's perfectly undone.

As he's putting on a pair of socks by the sofa, he clocks you staring. Simply hums, "Hm?"

Eyes wide and unassuming, he's oblivious to the fact you feel like you might faint just by looking at him, even if the socks he's putting on have individual spaces for each of his toes.

We can't all be perfect, after all—though Jeongguk would argue his socks encourage correct toe alignment, which could only be a good thing.

"Anyone ever told you that you're a menace to society?" You painfully whine, the groan you were hiding making its presence known.

Almost bashful, Jeongguk tips his head to the side, eyes twinkling your reflection back at you.

"Flattery won't convince me to let you go back to bed," he teases, playing off the compliment. Socks on, he makes his way over to you without hesitation, his tattooed arm draping over your shoulders, as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"Was worth a try," you playfully tease him, even if you did mean it. Hooking your arm around his waist, you give him a squeeze and glance up towards him. A tender kiss is given and received, his lips softly curving into a smile against yours. "Eat up. Quicker we leave, the quicker you can get to the gym, and the quicker you can come back to mine afterwards."

The outline of your day is solid: go to the gallery and get it cleaned up, meander back to town with Jeongguk, send him on his way to the gym, pick up some groceries and then head home.

Small errands that will eat up most of the day, but an empty evening that can be spent exactly as you'd like: with him.

"We at yours tonight?" He hums, still getting used to just how easy it is to coexist next to you. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a life like this.

"Feel like Jimin might need the privacy," you note, very much aware that he hasn't made a single appearance, which is very unlike him. He's normally reciting lines from The Notebook by this point in the morning.

You know he's fine, 'cause you heard the synthetic ding of his speaker being turned on a little while earlier, presumably to drown out any 'conversations' he might be having.

Jeongguk smirks, picking out a strawberry from the container next to the french toast, and says, "He never gave us privacy."

Tossing the strawberry to his back teeth, there's a smile on Jeongguk's lips that's impossible not to mirror. Turning slightly, you get yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen island. Wrap your arms around his neck. Encourage him down to nudge his nose against yours.

"Yeah, but he also never caught us having sex," you remind Jeongguk, lips brushing against his. Breakfast can wait. Or maybe the menu can just change. "We were incredibly well-behaved as far as he's concerned."

"We were?" Jeongguk quietly flirts, his hips pressing against your tummy, letting you know just how much he enjoys being with you. "I don't think you've ever been well behaved."

"Oh, but I am," you simper right back. Reaching down for his hands, you encourage them to roam your body. Squeeze them over your chest, then encourage them down to the tops of your thighs—or, more specifically, between them. "I'm such a good girl for you, aren't I?"

Pressing his fingers up against your thinly-covered cunt, Jeongguk smirks, the subtle markers of your arousal greeting him like they so often do.

"You are," he nods. "And you're gonna be good for me now aren't you?" His fingers hook the lace of your underwear to the side, and gently begin to tease your wet folds. "Gonna keep it nice and quiet for me, huh?"

Nodding, you let yourself succumb to your unbridled desire to have your lips on his as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. With a small whine, you totally disregard the promise you've only just made.

And so Jeongguk shakes his head, still kissing you. Barely parts from your lips when he says, "Shush, shush, shush, baby. Quiet for me."

When he pushes a second finger into you, your brows furrow, but the whine you're dying to sound out just vibrates into his mouth.

"Attagirl," he praises as his fingers begin to pump inside of you. Deepening his kisses, Jeongguk strokes his tongue against yours, as if your body was just made for him to claim. Signed, sealed, delivered: his. Your hips roll into his movements, but it's not enough.

As much as he wants to keep you plugged, Jeongguk wants easy access more.

Pulling his fingers from your cunt, there's a satisfied grin on his pretty lips when you whine.

"Shush," he says with such affection it could make even the coldest heart thaw. Dipping slightly, he hooks his forearms just beneath your ass and swiftly lifts you up. Gets you perched up on the counter. Spreads your legs, and is pleased when you lift the hem of the baggy shirt you're wearing to fully reveal your pussy to him.

"Look at you, gorgeous," he husks. Genuinely thinks he might die just from looking at your cunt. Too perfect. Too fuckin' nice. Stroking his still-wet fingers up your folds, he wastes no time sinking two fingers into you once more. "Quiet, baby."

"Room," you breathlessly say, desperately trying not to make any sounds that could give yourselves away. "Don't wanna be quiet. Take me to your room."

Jeongguk just smirks. Looks in your pretty eyes and challenges you. "Say chess. I'm not going to my room, but you can say chess."

He knows there's absolutely no way in hell you're saying chess.

Narrowing your eyes, you reach to the front of his shorts, and stroke his hard cock through the fabric. If he's gonna make this hard for you, then you're gonna do it right back.

"If you're gonna torture me then you may as well do it right," you feign a little boredom, tugging his shorts down just enough to play with him over his boxers. "Your fingers are nothing, baby." A lie, but that's neither here nor there. "Make things difficult for me. Make it impossible for me to keep quiet."

"You really want Jimin to find out, huh?" Jeongguk teases, still playing on the idea that you've ever managed to convince anyone that you are, in fact, just friends. "You want him to know that we fuck?"

But then Jeongguk glances over your shoulder to the doorway that leads into Jimin's room, as the click of his latch goes. Jeongguk barely has enough time to pull his fingers from you, and definitely not enough time to pull his shorts back up over his boxer-covered boner, so instead, he presses up against you to keep himself covered. Thank God he's behind the island and not anywhere else.

If you thought it was torture before, then now must be a whole new level, just a few layers of fabric keeping you apart.

"It lingers, y'know," the grouchy voice of Jimin echoes from behind you.

Turning your head, thighs squeezing against Jeongguk's hips to keep his dignity protected, you try to hide your embarrassment.

Jeongguk's hands rest on your thighs, and the one that's out of sight to Jimin is being wiped against your skin to rid his fingers of your arousal. This could have been so much worse than what it is.

"The smell of sex," he adds with a little disdain. "I always knew."

As if the God of Thunder personally gave birth to him, Jimin's face is stormy as can be. His scowl is so deeply ingrained into his expression that you're certain the wind must have changed in his direction as he was first pulling the face. Whatever you drank last night, he must have had it too.

Hair all haphazard, face a little dewey from a warm slumber, there's an unusual dishevelled nature to Jimin. He's not even bothered to put on clothes. Is quite literally in just a pair of boxers.

It's quite unlike him. Then again, so are the hickies on his collarbones.

"Well, that's weird, 'cause me and Jeongguk have never had sex," you reply without even thinking, the lies ingrained into your reflexes at this point. Even Jeongguk looks at you with confusion this time.

"Firstly, we eat off that counter, sickos. And secondly, I heard," Jimin simply assures you both, walking to the counter and picking up a plastic fork. He sticks it into a chunk of the french toast, and doesn't ask permission. Just chows down on it. Speaks with his mouth full. "Like, so many times. In fact, I've heard you at it so many times I can almost predict what's happening when."

"Bullshit," Jeongguk laughs—and he'd be right. Jimin's never heard, not properly at least, unless you count the muffled groans in Pohang that put him off his food for an entire day. He just hates the embarrassment of being walked in upon by the pair of you. The one time he needed privacy the most and he didn't even think to bolt the door—or better yet, go to his own bloody bedroom. He wants you to know what his embarrassment feels like. Jeongguk is unphased, though. "Nabi still here?"

"Shut up," Jimin replies, pulling the rest of the french toast towards him, closing the lid. He narrows his eyes, then snatches the box right up. Holds it to his chest. Scowls at you both. Turns on his heel and returns to his room, grinning now that you can't see him, shutting the door behind himself.

Neither of you stop him.

"Is he…"

"Okay?" Jeongguk finishes off your query. "No idea."

But one thing for certain is that Nabi's possessions are still very much inside the apartment. She's still here, and you're willing to bet he shut the door with a smile, holding his stolen breakfast with all the triumph of a cat who got the cream.

"On that note," you begin to tangent off, knowing you've already wasted too much of the day. "You okay to drive? Or would you rather take the subway?"

"Subway," Jeongguk immediately responds, reaching over to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't wanna risk it."

And he also wants any excuse he can find to spend time with you. Takes three times as long to get to The Ryu on public transport than it does in his car, especially with how he drives.

"Alright," you don't argue against him or bother suggesting a taxi instead. "And am I cool to leave my things here? I'll pick them up next time—"

"You know you don't need to ask," Jeongguk grins, the ring in the corner of his mouth flipping ever so slightly in that heavenly way it so often does.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Keep it here," he says. "Don't take your stuff home next time. Leave it. I'll clear a drawer. Some hangers."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nudges his nose up against yours. "You've been leaving glitter here for months. May as well move onto something more substantial."

As if your heart isn't enough.

"Plus," he considers. "At least that way you can stop stealing all my favourite shirts."

"You love it when I wear your shirts."

"B, I love it when you wear nothing at all," he smirks. "Clothes have nothing to do with it. But on that note, go put some clothes on so we can actually do something with our day."

Reluctantly, you agree.

And just as reluctantly, he lets you go.

The subway is always crowded at this time of day. Jeongguk insists you sit while he stands in front of you, holding on to the railing that runs overhead. It's a small kindness—the kind you never really thought about until you met him and learned how lovely it is to have someone actually care about your comfort and well-being.

He doesn't spend the journey on his phone like so many of the other commuters. Instead, he focuses on the windows, and the small glimpses indicating where you are along the subway line. Occasionally he'll look down at you and smile. Though you're not sleeping, your eyes are closed, cutting out the harsh lights of the tin can you're situated inside. You've never been more desperate for your bed.

Once you reach your stop, Jeongguk tightly scoots in behind you on the escalators.

"We can have a quiet night in," he softly promises. His hand rubs at your waist, and the elevated position of your body allows him to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Even despite the fabric of your shirt—one that belongs to him, of course—it still feels like a star is burning through your very being.

Nodding, you place your hand over his and squeeze ever so gently. Reciprocate his warmth.

You don't mean to be so grouchy and unexpressive, the hangover just really is killing you. If it wasn't for the video Jeongguk insisted on assessing after waking you up this morning, you might not have even recalled exactly just how raunchy you'd been with him at Dionysus.

Fucking someone at work had always been one of his covert fantasies; the kind of thing he wanted to do just so he could say that he had. Wouldn't mind leaving the box next to it unchecked on his mental to-do list. Would happily do it all over again.

His notice has been handed in, though. Dionysus is no longer his place of work. His contract runs until the end of the month, but he saved up holiday time. Never has to go back, if he doesn't want to.

As his fingers squeeze a little tighter on your waist, he can't help but wonder if he's making the right choices. He's been comfortable at Dionysus. Wasn't making great money, but was making enough.

But when you squeeze your hand over his, he knows it doesn't matter. He can make all the bad decisions in the world as long as he doesn't make any that'd result in him losing you.

The weather's slowly been getting warmer over the past few weeks. As you exit the subway station, the sun confronts you with such aggression that you almost stumble from the impact of her punch.

"I'm never drinking again," you whine, bringing the hand of yours that's holding his up to cover your eyes a little. He lets you dictate his movement freely.

"You say that every time," Jeongguk reminds you, playfully nudging into your side, before rounding the corner up towards the gallery. "C'mon. Fake it till you make it. Pretend you don't have one."

"Impossible."

The remainder of the morning is slow. Every time you glance at the clock, it seems only a few minutes have passed.

Cataloguing and processing the sales of art from the night before is laborious. It takes a lot of mental energy that you can't seem to conjure up.

Jeongguk doesn't really know how to help, but he is far stronger than you. Does all the heavy lifting as you prepare various canvases for shipping.

Eventually, he's left twiddling his thumbs, so you insist he heads straight to the gym.

"I'll meet you after," you tell him, as you sit on the floor of the gallery, crossed-legged, a pencil behind your ear and a million documents scattered around you. Jeongguk has no idea how you can work in such chaos. Finds himself getting stressed out by it.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes of assuring him you'd be fine on your own, but eventually he leaves for the gym. The way you see it, the quicker you both get your tasks for the day done, the quicker you can go back to yours, make some dinner, and call it a night.

"Call me when you're done, yeah?" He says, lingering by the door because he just can't bear to leave you. As the sunlight peers in through the windows, small speckles of glitter sparkle on his skin. "I'll come meet you halfway."

With an ever-sincere smile, you just laugh. "Go."

Finally doing as he's told, Jeongguk walks backwards until you're out of sight. Feels his heart physically ache in his chest. Doesn't understand why he's so damn pathetic all of the time when it comes to you, just knows he wouldn't change it for the world.

Despite the solitude of an empty gallery, you're perfectly content. The lingering scent of paint and paper isn't too far removed from your place of work. Makes it easy to imagine a life where this could be your work.

Devoting yourself to this is easy. Passion has always yielded a higher reward for you than wages, so you don't mind burning the candle at both ends.

The situation is becoming strained at best, you know. Eventually, something will have to give.

For now, though, you finish off your jobs. Arrange couriers to pick up the artworks sold, and make sure the names and numbers match the deposits with a copy of Jeongguk's business account bank statement, of which you made him print out for you.

"I can just log into my bank on your phone," Jeongguk had shrugged when you'd first asked him for it, seemingly not realising just how insane he sounded. When he clocked your look of bewilderment, he laughed. "What? It's not like you're gonna run off with all the money."

While this is true, looking at the sheer amount of money in there could make you cry. It's all so attainable now; Jeongguk's dreams and a reality in which they come true.

So engrossed in your own thoughts, you almost jump out of your skin when a knock sounds at the doorway into the office.

"Sorry," Shinwon hums ever so pleasantly, a smile on his face, thoroughly bemused by how startled you look. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no," you shake your head, endearingly playing off your embarrassment. "I just didn't expect to see you here! Or see anyone here, for that matter."

Between exhibitions, the gallery will be closed for the next couple of weeks. It's partially to allow for the staff to reset, but mainly to allow for careful considerations of how the space will be used.

As Jina's maternity leave cover, it's Shinwon's job, but you're yet to see any plans from him. You don't even know which artists are due to be showcased. She did say that a new vacancy would probably open up around this time, and if Shinwon doesn't start putting some tangible hard work in, you wouldn't be surprised if it's sooner rather than later.

There's been no mention of it, though. The big bosses don't seem to care about his underperformance, probably 'cause they know he's temporary.

"Just coming by to drop something off," he explains, holding up a small white envelope. Pressing it down on the desk, he looks uncertain, as if there are words dancing on the tip of his tongue. "It went well last night, didn't it?"

With a tight-lipped smile, you nod. Feel your cheeks swell. "Yeah. Went really well."

"Good," he nods. Is about to leave. Pauses when he reaches the door, and awkwardly turns to face you. Nods towards the letter on the desk. "There's gonna be a position opening up soon. You should apply. I'll put in a good word."

Furrowing your brows, you glance over the white envelope, then back to Shinwon. "But they're not hiring any—"

"Letter of resignation," he concedes with a tight-lipped smile. "I've got an overseas opportunity that I don't wanna pass on. I'll work my two weeks, but then there'll be a position to fill until Jina is back from maternity."

By overseas opportunity, he really means that some of his private school buddies are going travelling, and he wants in on the fun. This was always an opportunity of convenience for Shinwon. He was never passionate about it. Not like you are.

"Apply," he encourages. "You basically do my job as it is for free, anyway. May as well get paid for it if you can."

He doesn't stay to chitchat. Probably won't even remember your existence once he heads off on his trip. Was never in this for the right reasons.

You've resented him on plenty of occasions. Been annoyed at the fact he does fuck all and gets paid for it. Yet the idea of actually filling his (albeit incredibly small) shoes is fear-inducing.

A job at the gallery would be the first step to actually doing what you love for a living—being around art and artists. Sure, you could argue that the art cafe gives you that, but a highschooler nervously painting by numbers on a first date has nothing on the works that you see here.

There's joy to be found in your current job, though. Fun. Safety. Home.

But nothing remarkable ever happened to people who choose to remain comfortable.

Quickly finishing your to-do list, all you want to do is speak to Jeongguk about it. See what he thinks. You know it's a no-brainer. You have nothing to lose. You just want him to give you the green light that you're making the right choices.

The headache you've been battling is weak in comparison to your racing thoughts, now. You're thinking of the possibilities—of all of your hard work actually being for something. You've proven to the gallery that you can bring in punters, and that you can utilise their resources for profit.

It's always been a case of who you know, not what you know, but you know the gallery, now. They know you.

It could really happen.

By the time you reach the gym, fantasies of a life with a staff ID card and access to the archives, you can't stop smiling. It'd change your life. Flip it upside down in the best of ways.

The gym is just the same as it always has been. There's a new girl behind the front desk. Not someone you recognise. Smiling as she greets you, she's keen to help, long dark hair tied into a ponytail, her branded shirt tight to her curves. You're reminded that the gym is a breeding ground for beauty, but it doesn't matter. You'll get your cardio in later beneath your sheets.

She's also got the kind of smile that you just can't help but reciprocate.

"I don't have a membership," you begin to explain, knowing just how troublesome it was on your first ever visit and not wanting a repeat of it. There's no way you're paying for a month, 'cause now you don't need it as an excuse just to see Jeongguk. You also can't help but overcompensate, and give far too many details in an awkward, endearing mess of an explanation. "Well, I mean, I used to have one so my details are probably on the system. Sorry, not important. I know you guys don't do day passes—"

Furrowing her brows, she kindly interrupts. "We do."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she says, nodding towards a sign in the corner of the countertop. Clear as day, daily and weekly memberships are listed. "We've done them for as long as I've been here. Don't think it's a new policy. Anyway, happy to help—just a day membership?"

Jiyeong might be a distant memory now, but thoughts of her will never fail to irritate you.

"Yeah please," you smile regardless, sliding your card out from your pocket—and then you're over explaining again. Probably habit from the Jiyeong era. Is also probably why you make a point to mention Jeongguk by a title only you have the privilege to use. "I'm just joining my boyfriend for a session. He's—"

"Oh, he's a member?" she chirps, not rude in her interruption but efficient.

"Yeah," you nod, and are about to mention him by name, but the girl speaks too quickly again.

"Oh, you should have said! Members get a monthly plus one. It's not a free session, but it's half price, so better than nothing," she smiles. "I'll just need his gym ID—or name, I can search the system—so I can put it through."

You know she really ought to ask Jeongguk's permission. You could be any random woman.

But you're not, and so you tell her. "Jeon Jeongguk?"

"Ah," she nods, vaguely aware of his existence. Unlike Jiyeong, she hasn't spent a substantial amount of time fawning over Jeongguk. To her, he's just another dude who comes in and leaves her alone. She appreciates it, given how some guys can be, but she also doesn't care to reward bare minimum.

She asks you to confirm his phone number, which you can do without issue, so at least there's some level of security in place.

It's a perfectly pleasant exchange, and it thankfully rids you of woes you didn't even realise you had. The Jieyong debacle had left a mark on you, but it feels like it's been rubbed clean. Your mind tends to jump to thoughts of her whenever he goes to the gym, and so at least you can sleep well knowing that the new girl isn't interested in any way shape or form.

Buzzing you through, she tells you to enjoy yourself—but as you start heading up the stairs to the main gym section, you already feel your regret looming. A hangover is still a hangover.

You clock Jeon Jeongguk almost immediately. How anyone isn't immediately drawn to him, you'll never understand. Just finishing up with some weights, he's re-racking the ones he's used, skin glowing with sweat.

There's a beauty to seeing him like this. Primal desires.

Glancing up to the mirrored wall behind the rack, Jeongguk eyes are on yours just as quickly. It's like you're magnets, destined to meet.

A confused smile etches into his exhausted face, brows furrowing as he turns to face you.

"What are you doing here?" He mouths, head puppy-like in the way it tilts.

Shrugging your shoulders, you walk towards him. Mouth, "I just love the gym."

"Liar," he simpers when you're within earshot, reaching his hand out for you to take so he can pull you closer, of which he immediately does.

One hand clasped in his, your other hand rests on his still-heaving torso. He's gone hard today, to make up for the night before. His compression shirt is silky beneath the palms of your hands, the strong ridges and contours of his body yours to hold. Other people can look all they like. None of them get to feel. Not like you do.

As he looks down at you, there's a softness to his gaze. A smile that he doesn't care to hide. A sparkle in his eyes that shines even out of direct light. Just a consequence of looking at a star.

"You shouldn't be here," he quietly hums. "We both know you hate it."

"I can go, if you like?"

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Smiles as he turns you both around and begins to walk backwards, pulling you with him.

"You're the one who hated being here," he reminds you. "I loved you being here."

"Obsessed," you grin, gingerly letting him drag you anywhere he likes. "And good, 'cause I used your monthly plus one."

"Yeah," he confirms, ignoring the curious glances of other people in the room as he leads you back to your old 'spot'. "Thought we'd established that already? And that's fine. Use it every month."

Funny, how you used to hypothesise over the lives of other people in this very room, and how you know others must be doing the same for you now. You hope they all think you're besotted with him.

When you look at him like that, all love drunk and starry-eyed, how could they not?

"Was just about to finish up, anyway," Jeongguk tells you, heading in the direction of the treadmills. Glances back to you, then nods in their direction. "For old times sake?"

"For old times sake," you beam, following his lead, stepping up onto the treadmill closest to you. They're all vacant, but Jeongguk steps up on the one beside yours, 'cause of course he does. He'd go on the same one as you, if it were possible.

God, he loves you being here. Can't stop smiling.

You don't mention the potential job opening. For old times sake.

Instead, you revel in what it used to be like whenever you came to the gym, 'cause it just makes you so much more grateful for what you've become. Like Dionysus, these four walls saw the groundwork of your relationship being laid.

You've already lost access to one of the most important places to you both with Jeongguk leaving the club.

If you change jobs, you'll lose the art cafe, too. The lease is coming up soon on your place, and if Danbi chooses to just move in with Tae, that'll be another safe haven gone. One by one, places of your past are closing their doors to usher you forward into new spaces.

Life can't always stay the same. Change is needed. Necessary.

You've changed. So has Jeongguk. You'll continue to change for years to come.

The difference now is that you'll change together. Adapt. Merge, in some ways, just like a pair of orbiting stars so often do.

On the way home, Jeongguk picks up a bunch of wildflowers from the market stall he once bought you apology flowers from. His fingers are intertwined with yours as he pays, hands lightly swinging.

It dawns on you all rather quickly, as Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip and waits for the payment to go through, that maybe this is a change that you needn't fight. Perhaps it's okay to look forward to your future instead of being hung up on the past.

"C'mon," he tugs on your hand as you leave the market stall, encouraging you to gain a little momentum. "I'm starving. If we don't get me food soon, I'll turn into you with a hangover."

"Cute?"

"Oh, so close," he grins, then shakes his head. "But no. Grouchy and unbearable."

"You were practically begging to shag me," you remind him. "Can't have minded that much."

Jeongguk can't argue against this one. "I didn't—but working out increases like… all the hormones that were working overtime this morning. If I don't eat soon I might die, but if I don't shag you soon, I also might die. Honestly it's a lose-lose situation, B. There's only one solution."

"Sixty-nine?" You offer, 'cause it's perfectly logical. He gets to eat while you get him off. A win-win, you'd argue.

"You're a disgusting pervert," he tells you with stern sharpness, paired with a smirk he just can't help, as if he totally wasn't angling for you to say it. "But now that you mention it, yes. That'd be ideal."

"I don't shag boys who call me disgusting," you reply, knowing that he absolutely didn't mean it like that. You just like winding him up.

"I'm pretty sure I've called you worse before," he reminds you, then holds the flowers out in front of you both. "These can double as apology flowers instead of just my-girlfriend-is-really-pretty-and-I-love-her flowers."

You narrow your eyes as you look across to him, but the smile on his face is just too hard to resist. Thin lipped, his dimples are present, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.

It's like his lip ring does the thing and you're reduced to jelly.

"Lucky you're cute," you grumble.

"You can thank my mum for that one," he offers, fully aware of how often people would coo over his cuteness as a child and then proceed to tell his mum how similar they are. "And for how pretty I am, too."

Though he's just joking, he's right. He really is the prettiest man you've ever known, inside and out.

You won't tell him this, though. Would give him far too much negotiation power.

"Who do I thank for how annoying you are?"

“Jimin,” Jeongguk says. "That's a learned behaviour. Nurture over nature."

"Figures," you accept, before tugging on Jeongguk's hand to lead him into a grocery store. "I've got nothing in. Need to pick up food or else you'll be going hungry."

"I thought we already agreed on six—"

"A little decorum please," you cut him off. "We're in a public space."

"You said it first!"

Playfully shrugging, you let go of his hand and grab a basket as you enter. "Watcha fancy?"

"You."

"For dinner, idiot."

"B," Jeongguk sighs as if he really is hard done by. "We've already discussed this. Literally, you."

"Shut up," you laugh, and let the shopping trip descend into chaos.

Jeongguk just puts whatever catches his eyes into the basket. Gets a kinder egg and a hot wheels car. Will surely just run it over the curves of your body when you're in bed later that evening. Also gets an entire pineapple, and when you raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs.

"If I don't have a snack before I shower I will die," he assures you. "I'm craving a burger, so you should really be thanking me for the noble sacrifice I'm making. It benefits us both."

"You're an idiot."

"Fine, I'll get a burger."

But when he goes to put the pineapple back, you stop him. Smile. Say, "Pineapple is good."

"That's what I thought," he stands tall and proud, chest puffed, head tilted back. He looks like an asshole but god damn, does he look good doing so. As he peers down at you, you know it'll be a miracle if you even make it to the shower by the time you get home. Want him too bad.

"Stop bickering," you tell him. "Quicker we get home, the quicker we can—"

"Say no more," he nods, taking the basket from you, then zooming off up the aisle. "C'mon, B! Places to be! People to see!"

As he darts off to the next aisle, all you can do is wonder how on earth this is your life.

But it is—and when you finally find him again, standing in line to pay, basket full to the brim from his supermarket sweep, you know that all these changes happening around you really don't matter as long as you have him.

"Alright," you quietly say as you stand beside him, flicking open your phone and heading for your taxi hailing app. "I'll order a taxi. Don't want you to die on the way home."

"Teamwork," Jeongguk smiles.

"It makes the dream work, or so I heard," you hum with a somewhat smug smile, pleased to be getting exactly what you want: time spent with Jeongguk away from the prying eyes of the three fates.

"Yeah," he quietly says, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of your head. "It sure does."

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lululandd · 7 months ago

Text

mutual;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: stalking, drugging

note: i have nothing planned for the rest of the story so please bear with me and maybe go on this adventure together :3 (also on AO3)

summary: “it wasn’t supposed to make you sick, love.” he sighed as he knelt down, “just wanted to make you sleep.”

you woke up in annoyance that night, seeing that it was still dark outside when you opened your eyes. you had went so far as to order carb heavy food for dinner earlier, finishing it off with some medicine to hopefully, finally, at long last, get a good night’s sleep.

and yet here you are, eyes wide open in the dead of night. it had been a rough couple of weeks, your mind running circles and staying alert every night, leaving you irritable and unable to focus or function during the day.

getting some of your senses back as you lie flat on your back—staring at the ceiling contemplating all the good night’s sleep you had before all this happened—you shivered and realised something’s wrong with your body. you felt chilly, and when you touched your arm it felt damp. bile quickly came up the back of your throat when you tried to sit up, your eyes widening as a rush of adrenaline flows through you, giving you enough panic and energy to get out of bed.

making it only to the sink, you thank yourself for even being able to hold it back that long and not hurling everything out on the floor.

bracing yourself on the counter, you start to wonder what you ate that could possib—

click.

what was that?

you hunched lower towards the sink, expelling what looked like the rest of your dinner. the sound of your front door being opened and closed made your mind race and your nausea worse, coughing spit and phlegm into the sink. your hands shook as you turned the tap, all your energy spent on heaving and keeping yourself upright. large beads of sweat rolled down your temple as you watched the water swirl, shuddering as you feel the back of your shirt sticking to your skin.

mentally, you want to fight off the intruder. physically? you’re lucky to even be vertical right now. staring at the running water, you wish and hope it’s just a robber.

you wobbled towards the toilet—your legs felt like it would fold like a cheap umbrella if you stood any longer—and lifted the plastic seat before kneeling in front of it, bracing both sides of the bowl, the coldness from the tiles and the porcelain bringing some relief on your burning skin.

the bathroom door opened wider and something big stepped into the room with you.

“my bag is in the hallway. there’s—“ you dry heaved, “—cash in it. i haven't seen your face.”

“allright?” the man spoke.

“pl—“ nausea took hold again before you could speak. you chose to just wave and look away. but his footsteps came closer and closer, forcing you to screw your eyes shut to avoid seeing him entirely.

“offended you thought i was here for money.” he drawled, his deep and gruff voice sounding oddly calm. “im worried.”

your whole body jolted, involuntarily opening your eyes and turning your face towards him. through your tear filled eyes you could see a hulking dark shape of a man with a skull printed balaclava for a face.

“please just take the money,” you begged and sniffled, limp hand pointing at the general direction of where your valuables would be on the other side of the wall.

“the food wasn’t supposed to make you sick, love.” he sighed as he knelt down next to you, “just wanted to make you sleep.”

he helped hold your hair up as you threw up pure acid this time, making you cough and sputter harder into the bowl. his other hand holds your forehead, steadying you as you swayed. it brought you a sense of troubled comfort, being helped by a stranger that broke into your home.

seeing you no longer have anything in your system to force back out, he gently picked you up from the floor. you feebly try to push away from him—like a sickly wet spaghetti trying to push a concrete wall—as he makes his way to your room.

he had put you down on your bed and made his way towards your armoire when you realised something that made your body sit still.

your room was still dark. hell, the whole flat was practically dark. the only other source of true light other than the streetlamps shining through your curtains was from the opened bathroom door. there wasn't any hesitation in his steps when he brought you in. no glancing around or fumbling on his part.

you could only watch him in muted horror as he bent over your armoire, immediately opening the drawer that holds your home clothes. “you’ve been here before.” you half whispered.

“couple times, yeah.” he nonchalantly admitted as he rifled through your clothes, grabbing shirts and moving it closer to his face before putting them back and doing it again with another.

you wildly look around the room, wondering if you could outrun him. no, no, not through the door of course, he was closer to it than you are, but the window, yes, the window. that’s closer to you than it is to him. you eyed the window, prepping all the steps you would need to do before you could flung yourself out of it. if you’re fast enough, and quiet enough, you coul—

he straightened his back at that exact moment and turned towards you with one of your favourite shirts in his hands. you saw the peeling glitter font shimmered for a fraction of a second before he dropped it in your lap.

he then turned around and stepped away, giving you what little privacy he could while still keeping you close.

you changed at a sluggish pace, keeping your eye on his back the whole time with the perfectly rational fear that he’ll turn around, catching you mid change; as if you could do anything if he did.

thankfully he didn’t.

being dry felt nice. you’re still shivering a little and you felt like you’ve just swallowed an acorn after running a marathon, but at least you’re dry and no longer cold and sticky. you spent what little freedom you didn’t know you had left to watch his broad back instead of telling him you’re done. now that you have some space and a little energy to think, you wonder if you’ve seen him anywhere before; wracking your brain to try and remember if maybe you recognise his silhouette or imposing shape from somewhere. would paying more attention to your surroundings help? do you need to remember who you’ve seen and where you’ve seen them? where does the line for caution stop and paranoia begins?

you didn’t even notice him turning around and walking towards you, you gaze empty as you keep thinking about all the little things you should’ve noticed, how big of a mistake it was to not pay attention to large men, how—

a soft touch on your forehead snapped you out of your thoughts, the back of his hand reaching out to feel your temperature. the gesture felt so loving and familiar that you involuntarily closed your eyes, his touch on your scorching skin made the discomfort and ache a little more bearable.

but relief was cut short by a sharp prick on the side of your neck, your hand flying up towards the source of the pain to catch it but finding nothing.

something thin and shiny on his lowering hand caught your attention as your vision blurred and the edges darken. “wha—”

“don’t fight it.” he cuts you off as you try to speak, his voice commanding you from far away. you could only watch as the gleaming material disappeared into his clothes.

for the first time that night you voluntarily looked up towards his face, but he pushed you down on the bed and covered your eyes before you could remember anything worthwhile.

it’s getting increasingly harder to stay awake, mumbling something to him you couldn’t even remember as your eyelids get heavier; lashes fluttering onto his palms everytime you blink.

you could feel his breath on the side of your face, but when he spoke to you it sounded faint, as if from even further away.

“sleep well.”

even in your barely conscious state you could hear the smile in his voice.

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #scuffed writing #not yandere yet but maybe it will?

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faithfulren · 8 months ago

Text

tent troubles (pt. 2)

part two of : tent troubles – @faithfulren on Tumblr !! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the camping trip had been going smoothly for the most part, with class 1-A enjoying their time in the great outdoors. however, as night fell on the second day, a sudden downpour caught everyone off guard. rain pounded against the tents, threatening to turn the campsite into a muddy mess.

inside one of the tents, bakugo and the reader were huddled together, trying to stay dry. unfortunately, their tent had sprung a leak, and water was starting to seep in from the roof.

"great, just great," bakugo muttered, glaring at the offending leak. "this trip couldn't get any fucking worse."

y/n tried to stay positive, despite the less-than-ideal situation. "it's not so bad. we can just move our sleeping bags away from the leak."

bakugo grumbled but nodded, helping the reader move their sleeping bags to a drier spot in the tent. as they settled back down, the sound of the rain on the tent fabric filled the silence between them.

"sorry about this," bakugo muttered, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

the reader smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "it's not your fault. besides, it's just a little rain. we'll make the best of it."

bakugo glanced at the reader, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "thanks, i guess.. you're always so… optimistic." he still spoke in that same rough tone he always has.

y/n shrugged, their smile widening. "what can i say? i try to see the silver lining in every situation."

they sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the rain lulling them into a sense of peace. despite the leaky tent and the wet conditions, they felt surprisingly content.

as the rain eased up and the night grew quieter, bakugo spoke up again. "hey, i… i wanted to tell you that i'm sorry again for being an asshole sometimes.. i also really trust you. and i don't say that to many people." he looked away, hands in his pockets.

the reader smiled, touched by his sincerity. "i trust you too, bakugo. and i understand why you felt that way. it just shows how much you care.. sometimes."

bakugo looked down at the ground, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "yeah, well… i do care. more than I let on."

the sincerity in his words warmed y/n's heart, and without thinking, they leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to bakugo's cheek. bakugo's eyes widened in surprise, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

"thanks, bakugo. for everything," the reader said softly.

bakugo's expression softened, and he leaned in, capturing the reader's lips in a gentle kiss. it was a brief but meaningful gesture, conveying all the emotions he struggled to put into words.

as they pulled away, y/n's heart was racing, their cheeks flushed with warmth. bakugo's eyes met theirs, and in that moment, they both knew that their bond had deepened, strengthened by their shared experiences on this unexpected camping trip.

as the rain continued to fall outside, the two of them settled down for the night, their hearts full and their spirits lifted. despite the tent troubles and the leaky roof, they knew that they wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here, together.

#anime #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #x reader #fluff #faithfulren

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hey-august · 6 months ago

Note

We all have already made the connection between detachable cock and sexytimes whenever you want, but let’s consider the opposite for a second.

Taking away Buggys dick for a while to rile him up, he gets it back after a few days away and you will make sure that Buggys basic needs are attended to, his hygiene will not be neglected… but you will not help him out whatsoever. Buggy, at sea, away from you, planning and scheming and doing whatever he does just a bit more on edge. Sometimes it’s manageable, sometimes he lays alone in bed at night and his mind wanders and he knows he’s hard right now, there’s no doubt about it, the images in his mind have gone straight to his dick and he would love nothing more than to relief himself… but he can’t. He just has to lay there alone… and be hard. Rubbing the chopped area of his pelvis helped a little at first, but now it just makes it worse and he’s whining and panting whenever his hands roughly knead the soft, smooth flesh down there, humping his pillow, taking a bucket of cold water and dousing himself of with it till his teeth are chattering, it’s the only way he can calm himself down enough before he gets back to sleep.

He’s ready to fuck you so hard you see stars when he gets back, till you forget your own name, till the only name you can remember is his…. But then you two go back to your quarters and you pull out a little, pretty box out of your drawer, sit down on the bed and tell him that you’re gonna unlock him now… but he’s gotta tell you all the naughty things he thought about while you were apart and that little command just throws him into subspace immediately. He’s on his knees, burying his face in your lap, babbling about how he wanted to fuck you so badly, how he wanted YOU to fuck him so badly, how he wanted you all over him and himself all over you in any and all positions, milking him dry till his voice is hoarse, bending you over the vanity and fucking you from behind till you’re screaming, just every little filthy thing he thought about and how desperate he was. „And you did so well. Go ahead, take it back and cum.“

And he just lasts about five feverish strokes before his delayed orgasm hits him like an ocean wave and he’s trembling like a leaf, putting his arms around your waist and hugging you even closer while you coo and pet his hair. Between feeling exposed and embarrassed, your soothing voice also makes him feel comforted and accepted and by god if that wasn’t one of the hottest things that ever happened to him in his life…. But also please let’s not do this for a while again and just have regular sex again when he’s recovered properly yes? Please don’t make him wait for longer than necessary okay?

Anon. Anon. I have been at a loss of words from this. You just show up and drop this delectable morsel and I just want to keep eating it 🤤

Rubbing the empty spot, hello?? Hell yes, absolutely. Maybe finding something phallic to hold there and jack off, hoping that the movement would give even a little relief.

And of course you'd take such good good care of your little captain. Holding it gently, nice warm water, sudsy bubbles, getting eeeeevery growing inch of it clean. Maybe a second scrub, just to be certain. A little kiss on the head before putting it back in the box.

Late at night, you hear something. Muffled thuds from a blunt object wishing it knew what to do. That it could do what it craved.

You might take a peek, wanting to see how pathetically hard and wet that pretty clown cock is. How it's dripping and glistening with precum. A swipe from your finger to get a taste and you could practically see his dick shiver.

Maybe one night you take matters into your own hands. Unfortunately, you finish faster than Buggy and he's left even more unsatisfied than usual.

The rest of him is feverish. Flushed and sweaty. His hands are shaking. His throat is dry. His teeth are chattering. There are tear streaks in his make-up. He was so fucking close. His balls ache so goddamn much.

You were all he could think about. You had consumed his mind, but not his body. Every little fucking thing reminded Buggy of you. And his lack of dick.

Drinking too fast and some liquid escapes his mouth? You struggling to swallow all the damn cum his heavy balls are holding right now.

Climbing the ship's rigging? Using the rope to tie you up and tease you until you're the one with tears and snot running down your face.

Polishing and sharpening his knives? Fuck, he wants to jack off so badly. Anything to break the constant horny hell he's living in.

All the frustrations and fantasies pour out of him when you two are finally together. You're finally here, filling his senses. It's like a dream come to life and all he can do is the one thing he's wanted - to come.

Buggy could not put into words how his incessant neediness heightened everything. How the delay in gratification made the very act of touching himself seem downright sinful. How he needed to orgasm almost as badly as he needed to breathe. How he hoped you would be pleased with each stream of cum that spilled from his swollen head and trembling fingers.

Yeah, this was fun. In a way. Too much to do again soon. Although, imagining coating you in all that cum. Pumping you so full that you're the one exploding and dripping... Well, maybe Buggy could be persuaded to let this happen again sooner than you think.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #hey-august buggy short stories

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gyllenhaalstories · 11 months ago

Text

ELWOOD DALTON x PLUS SIZE!READER HEADCANONS

summary: if he can push and pull a big obnoxious yellow lamborghini, imagine what he can do!!! well, you don't need to imagine. i did it for you. but still!!!

warnings: bunch of cute things & various smut elements. chances are i'll steal some of these in my fics later on bc i love repeating myself but i felt inspired to gather the random thoughts in one place. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2100

photo credit: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: even if all my fics are written with a fat reader in mind, it just feels so good to put the emphasis on it! this is so incredibly self-indulgent and i am not sorry about it. 🥰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

FLUFF

Dalton wears very form fitting clothes, like his vast collection of the tightest shorts imaginable that he's worn on the octagon. But you will notice a gradual shift in his clothing preferences. The more he hangs out with you, the looser his clothes will get. Especially his hoodies and his patterned shirts. You will also notice how he accidentally leaves pieces of clothing at your place when he visits. He just likes to drop hints that he wants you to wear his clothes because he wants you to wear his clothes.

The first time he catches you putting on his hoodie if you're feeling a bit chilly or wearing his flowery shirt on a hot day? He's losing it. He'll have a dumb smile on his face all day because this is a big victory just like winning a fight. Maybe even more so when you start sharing clothes casually.

Also he's large. He just is. He takes space both literally and metaphorically. He makes you feel small in the best way. He opens jars for you in a twist of his wrist, he carries all the bags in one trip after grocery shopping, he shoves the laundry basket full of heavy wet clothes on his hip and holds you close with his free arm so you can hang clothes to dry outside. When Dalton locks eyes with you, he just has a way of making you feel so much smaller than him. This size difference, whether it be literal or not, feels good. It feels right. He will never shut up about it, if you ever tell him that you like the size difference. He might love it as much as you.

One of his love languages is you tending to his injuries and wounds. The lovely sound of your voice as you reprimand him and tell him he's too old to break into fights at any minor inconveniences. The gentle touch of your hands when you're cleaning him up with a washcloth and wincing at how much it must hurt... Except it barely hurts anymore he's just so used to it, although he might say it does so you baby him a little more. The adorable band-aids you put on him that he wears like a badge of honour. Eventually, you learn to carry a first-aid kit with you as often as you can. Just in case.

Beach dates. Did I say beach dates? Beach dates. He loves them. Dalton loves to hang out by the ocean and watch the sun rise and set. He loves it even more when you're with him. Holding hands or with his arms wrapped around you, he loves to share this moment with you. It feels so intimate. You can see him in his most peaceful and relaxed head space where the chaos of the Road House doesn't seem to affect him. He could stay there with you forever, with your feet in the water and the ocean breeze tickling your face.

He'd love to invite you to hang out at the Road House during his shifts, but he rarely lets you visit him at work. He's scared you will get injured or hurt by one of the drunk idiots or worse. He prefers to know you are safe and sound, far away from all the danger.

Dalton still tries to spend a lot of time with you. He likes it when you drive his car around and he can just be the passenger princess and enjoy the view, which means you. He likes it when you cook meals and desserts he hasn't had in forever due to years of intense training and strict diets. He'll always be around you to taste the food or steal a bite of a burning hot cookie that is fresh out the oven. The small things are very important for him.

Small things like slapping your butt when he walks behind you, and you doing the same when the roles are reversed. Small things like going shopping for the most obnoxious shirts that scream elderly dad on vacation vibes. Small things like dropping him off and picking him up when he works at the Road House. Small things like bringing you with him when he trains so that you can just exist in his presence, within a safe distance, and so that you can look at him when he gets all hot and sweaty. Small things like you laughing at his jokes about how everyone seems a little aggressive when he casually beats people up for a living. Small things like telling you that you smell so good and getting new perfumes so when he wears his clothes and you were his, he gets to carry your smell all day long. Small things like looking at you with big doe eyes and a dumb little grin on his face because he likes you so much. He likes the little things, because so often in his life he was living on the edge and he was depraved of those calm, harmless, insignificant little droplets of happiness.

What is the most important thing for him? Protecting you. He is so protective of you. Dalton wants to make sure you are safe and that you aren't involved in any shenanigans he gets himself into. He wants to make sure that nobody and nothing can hurt you. He's quick to remind anyone who crosses your way that they should be minding their own business. It may cause some issues between you, you have to remind him that you are a grown adult and that you can take care of yourself. He believes you, he knows you're strong and capable of anything you want to achieve, but he can't fight his protective instincts. He takes your security and your well-being very seriously. He wants you to know that he cherishes you, that he loves you and that he cares for you.

SMUT

Dalton is a big fan of proving you wrong, but with gentle persuasion. When the two of you start hooking up and dating, he will not put on too big of a show because he's scared to hurt you. He'll start slow, let things escalate at their own pace. He'll pull you closer by the hand for a kiss, surprising you by how he does that so effortlessly. He'll bring your body closer and wrap his arm around you to keep you pressed against him while you cuddle. He'll pull on your ankles to get you closer to the edge of the bed. He'll flip you over on the bed after a little warning that barely gives you enough time to register what he did. He'll hook his arms under your thighs to stop you from squirming away after he makes you cum and he doesn't want to stop just yet.

As much as he wants to chase the high, to show you just how much he can do and how far he can take you, he does it all gradually. He checks in often, maybe too many times at first. Tons of "are you alright? you good, you wanna continue? did it hurt, are you okay?" will be spoken to make sure he doesn't hurt you accidentally. He'll be careful not to hurt you, unless you ask him to.

He's flexible and he will adjust to your body. He'll make it work. You don't have to worry about it. If he can hold his opponent down like a pretzel until they tap out, he certainly can do the same to you. He'll push on your thighs to hold your legs down. He'll spread your pussy open and grunt at how you react when his nose bumps against your clit or when you whimper while he licks your puffy pussy lips. He'll pull on the skin of your cheeks to keep your ass open so he can access what he craves. He'll praise you when you help him, making it easier for him to fuck you good like you deserve.

On the topic of flexibility, he'd love to help you out with yours if you want to. He'll teach you exercises and show you how to relax your body. He'll also respect your limitations. You won't catch him be mad when you say your stomach is in the way or that you struggle to ride him so he has to use you as a fleshlight while you're on top. However, you will catch him rolling his eyes if you say you can't open your legs wider while he knows full well that you do when he's fucking you.

He loves when you sit on his face, no matter how many times he must remind you that he can take it, that you won't hurt him, that he can hold his breath long enough until you coat his tongue with your wetness. He enjoys every second of it.

He's loud. Dalton is a grunter. He grunts when he's fucking you deep with slow but rough thrusts. He grunts when he pulls out so he doesn't cum too fast at the heavenly feeling of your pussy on his hard cock. He grunts when he feels you gag around his cock. He grunts when he tastes your pussy on his tongue and feel your clit pulsate while he sucks on it. He's so fucking loud and he will do whatever he can to make you as loud as him. He wants you to get lost in the moment and forget about your fears and insecurities. He wants you to ride the waves of your orgasms with him until both of you forget how to speak and you can't take it anymore.

The things he must have seen and touched during his career in the UFC make it so that he's unbothered by extra skin to move around, or pretty much anything of the sort. He'll find a way to always make it work and he won't complain. In fact, he loves it. He loves feeling your body on him. He loves the skin-to-skin contact, the closeness. The sweat, the friction, the more he gets the more he wants.

He swells with pride and happiness when he sees you trying to process of the aftermath. Out of breath, flustered, shocked, stuck somewhere between needing three business days to recover and wanting to do it all over again right away. He loves seeing you fucked out of your mind, blissful and satisfied. Dalton loves knowing that he's the one helping you get there, helping you feel so good.

And he knows you love admiring him just as much. The feeling of worship is very much so mutual. He adores the marks, pearls of sweat and trails of euphoric tears he leaves on you. And you adore to watch his muscles and veins bulge after he's had his way with you.

Unlike his trainings of his fights, he doesn't end up in a human sized bucket of ice, but he loves the ritual of cleaning up in the shower or taking a bath with you. He loves to gently touch your body, paying close attention to where his hands might have left bruises earlier. He loves to show you his love with his touch rather than with his caring words or worried questions. It makes Dalton's heart flutter when you do the same, when you soap up his toned body and you wash away the mess of sweat and cum you made together. It often ends up with the two of you going at it again, or simply just jerking each other off with no intention to cum but rather to just feel closer and relax while the hot water heals your bodies.

To put it briefly, Dalton is built for the plus size girlies. He's got the strength, he's got the stamina. He's got it all to make you feel good, to make you feel like you're the hottest person alive because, to him, you very much so are. He cares for you and wants to make you feel comfortable. The more he explores your body and the more he discovers what you love and how to make you moan louder and cum harder, the freakier he will become. Dalton likes it hot and dirty, but he also loves it deep and passionate. He's gonna adapt to what you like and what you can physically do. He's gonna put in the work. He's gonna do what it takes to make you cum so hard you feel like he knocked you out in the best way possible.

#jake gyllenhaal #elwood dalton smut #elwood dalton fanfic #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #road house

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