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#... also can someone please explain to me at what temperature it starts feeling hot
shinjisdone · 6 months
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(I don't know where to put requests in, so I'll have to put it in ask, I apologize for that.)
Hello! I have to say, your writing style is one of my most favorites, and I'd love to request!(if I can) I don't know if this counts as a disability,(if it does, please ignore this) but could you write headcanons on Riddle Rosehearts and how he would deal with a gender-neutral S/O who's born naturally weak? For example: if the temperature is even a little bit cold, they'll start to sneeze and shiver. On the other hand, if it gets too hot, they'll start to feel faint and weak.
If you do end up doing my request, thank you so much! And if you don't, still, thank you for all your works!!! Don't give up!!!!
Hi! Requests ARE put into the ask box as far as I know so you are doing it correctly!
Oh man, it's always nice to hear that my??? Writing style which is just brainrot??? is one of someone's favorite omg stahp ur making me blush.
I also appreciate the encouragment and I think I am fine with this request. I'll see what I can do.
If it is not done appropriately, please tell me asap.
Riddle Rosehearts with an g/n S/O who is physically fragile
Riddle was most likely aware of your condition before you started dating.
Before that he'd make sure to assist you whenever you saw each other - which became much more often in time.
He was quick to realize - before and during dating - that there are no rules of the Queen he can follow to help you.
Each condition is individual and each person has their own way of handling themselves. Something as superficial as a 'Do this' and 'Don't do that' cannot cut it. He is a bit in a pickle because of it.
When everything's chaotic and blue, at least he always had the rules he could grasp back to whenever needed. But they prove to be not as helpful this time.
At the beginning he asks you what he could do. Rather bluntly at first before explaining that he honestly does not know what he could do to help you, let alone be a perfect boyfriend to you. A title he strives for.
His mother is a magical doctor and since she also wishes for him to become one, Riddle is knowledgeable in many medical areas. But since it's you - his rose, which he embarrassingly admitted at the beginning of your relationship - he does not have the boldness to just proclaim what is good for you and what not.
He feels safer asking you.
SO, after things have been discussed, Riddle believes it is high time for changes. If these standing rules do not fit you, he will create new ones that will.
Teaching each Heartslabyul student on what must be done when you are here. Over for a Unbirthday Party? The heat can be much, always have at least two parasols next to the table. Also set the table a bit futher away from the roses. The pollen could nettle your nose.
Inside playing a cards game? The papers could cut you, we better soften the edges. Yes, Ace, of each and every card.
His worry for your well-being might get overexaggerated...
Understand that this comes naturally to Riddle. Leading and enruling is what he does best and rules have always been a stable in his life. Rules are there to follow and make the lives of everyone better.
You might have to tell him to calm down...don't create new rules just for you. Yes, the sun can be blaring and the rooms cold, but the rest of the dorm don't have to follow new rules like card soldiers just for you.
He will understand...and might feel awful. He fell into this loop of flaws again where he believes rules and laws to be supreme. He, once again, became a tyrant.
Riddle will revoke the rules...but will still remind everyone to keep you in mind. In fact, everyone in the dorm with similiar conditions should be kept in mind...
Yes...maybe that should become a rule. To consider everyone's well-being.
Much shorter and simpler, even for people like Ace and Deuce to follow.
Other than that, Riddle will always personally make sure you are okay. Like a gentleman he will offer his assistance and if you refuse, he will comply. He just wants to let you know he's there, okay?
Offers his arm as he holds a parasol, you two strolling through the garden. Will make you tea himself that is not too spicy or hot (he might need some lessons from Trey). He would offer you his cloak or entire cabinet of clothes if you ask to keep you warm.
He might even buy certain things to make your day-to-day life easier.
A bit more attendive and tends to think a lot about other people and their conditions. He kinda wishes to be more of help...
But well....if you are at least okay and happy with him, then Riddle is fine with just helping and learning from you for now.
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dragonmuse · 2 years
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In the LH&K verse and prompt fills it's been hinted that lucius is self conscious/ insecure about his physical appearance at times? Would love to see some moments of Izzy or Pete (or both!!!) reassuring/ comforting/ reacting to Lucius feeling insecure!
(both! Both is good! First half is just a few weeks into Pete and Lucius' relationship, second half is between I Want to Break Free and Laugh with the Sinners)
“It’s hot as hell out there,” Pete pointed out in what he thought was a reasonable manner. “You cannot be serious about wearing layers. Or even a long sleeved shirt.” 
“It’s my whole look,” Lucius folded his arms over his chest. “Enjoy my self-expression. Also I’m going to be in an air-conditioned bar all night that’s set to ‘if it gets above freezing my makeup will melt’ temperature.” 
“You’re running around all night. I’ve seen how sweaty you get. It can’t feel good.” 
“Rude,” Lucius scoffed and started looking for his socks in his overnight bag. “You’re not supposed to tell someone they look gross, you know.”  
“I don’t think that’s what I said,” Pete frowned. “You look uncomfortable, not bad.” 
“You’re all uncomfortable on nights like this, what does it matter?” 
Pete watched him for a long minute. They’d only been dating for two months or so and he wasn’t sure how much he could push this or if he should even bother. Maybe it was just how Lucius preferred to dress. He certainly half-lived in his favorite blazer and most of his outfits had a general sameness to them. Out of drag, Pete was much the same so it was hard to get to get on a high horse about it. 
But... 
“I like when you look comfortable,” he said. “You smile more and your face is all....you’re always hot, but you’re really beautiful like that.” 
Lucius stopped moving and then he turned to him very slowly. “Please tell me you didn’t just say I’d be prettier if I smiled more.” 
And Pete had apparently stepped on a landmine. Boom. Wonderful. 
“No! Yes? Shit. That’s not what I meant.” 
“Oh, please explain,” Lucius all, but growled. Woe betide anyone who thought Lucius was the easiest target on staff.  
“I mean I like when you’re happy,” he tried again. “I like knowing you’re okay and doing your thing and not...dunno. Suffering for no good reason?” 
“...yeah,” the fight went out of him. “Sorry. I know what you meant. I don’t exactly drown in compliments.” 
“I don’t know why,” Pete shook his head. “You’re ridiculously cute, you know that right?” 
“I am aware that I can project that image,’ Lucius said carefully and sat down beside Pete, their thighs touching. 
“Yeah, you cannot actually Jedi mind trick me into thinking you're attractive,” Pete pointed out. “I told you day one that I thought you were my type.” 
“I’m also painfully pale, noodle-armed and still prone to breakouts like I’m fourteen,” he groaned. “I don’t want to wander stripped down. It’s like wearing a sign that says I’ve never worked out a day in my life.” 
Pete stared at him. 
“What?” Lucius snapped. 
“That’s how you see yourself?” He asked incredulously.
“...sometimes,” he mumbled. 
“But you’re,...” Pete looked for the right words. Lucius always had good words for things. He loved them and Pete was always trying to piece something together that would at least not sound like total nonsense. Not that Lucius seemed to care. Maybe they were alike in more ways that he’d originally thought. “I started shaving my head because I was balding.” 
“Uh, yeah?” Lucius blinked. “I figured that out, believe it or not. You can tell through the stubble and all.” 
“And I thought that it was over for me,” Pete plowed on. “Like at clubs and things. Because at least before I looked young before that. There was nothing left to hide behind.” 
“You don’t-” 
“Shh, my turn,” he chided. “I thought that and I was wrong. Plenty of guys like a bald head. I didn’t have to like it for that to be true.” 
“Oh,” Lucius reached out and ran a hand over Pete’s scalp which felt great, but he didn’t lean into it. “I like it.” 
“And I like your arms. They’re strong enough to do what needs doing. And I like your skin, it’s soft and pretty. I never notice your pimples unless you point them out and even then, who cares? I still get them too. Just being human.” 
“Huh,” Lucius’ hand drifted down to Pete’s face, cupping his cheek which also felt good. “I guess it’s pretty stupid to complain to you about not wanting people to see me, huh?” 
“It isn’t. I’ve had my whole life to make peace with my face. Doesn’t mean you can’t feel a way about yours.” 
Lucius leaned in and kissed him, then drew back with a sigh. “It is hot as balls out. I’ll leave the jacket here.” 
Several years later 
“What are you doing?” Izzy asked from the bed. He was sitting up, laptop on his lap, bare chested. 
Lucius had snuck in on Izzy’s day off for a nooner and been pleasantly surprised by the warm reception. Generally, Izzy wasn’t open to surprise changes in schedule, but this had gone smoothly enough. 
“Putting my clothes back on?” Lucius frowned. “What’s it look like?” 
“Thought you were just going to go hang out with Stede.” 
“Yep,” he reached for his jacket. “And?” 
“And....just seems....” Izzy searched the air for the right words apparently and Lucius ignored him in favor of giving the jacket a good shake to get out some floor-born wrinkles. “Like a lot of layers for lunch.” 
“You don’t want me to cover up the tank top,” Lucius surmised.  
“...yes.” Izzy admitted. 
Lucius had worn just the white undershirt for most of their activities today and Izzy had shown his appreciation as best he could without the use of his hands. It had been fun, but that had been a very much private, inside bit of pleasure. 
“I think Stede would have a stroke if he saw my naked shoulders,” Lucius laughed it off. 
“Doubt that,” Izzy said. 
“...you’re not going to take a perfectly served opportunity to make a joke about Stede dying? Are you sick or something?” 
“Seems a shame is all,” Izzy’s eyes dropped back to his laptop. “Didn’t think you ever did anything because of what someone else might think.” 
“I-” Lucius stopped mid-pulling on his shirt. “Come again?” 
“You’re pretty clear about doing your own thing all the time. So what do you care if someone has thoughts about your shoulders being out on a hot day?” Izzy started typing, apparently only half-paying attention to the conversation at all.  “I mean, I’d put on some sunscreen cause you burn like a motherfucker, but otherwise....”  
“I like flirting in public, excuse the fuck out of me if I put myself in the best position for that,” he grumbled. 
“I will bet you whatever you want that you pull more in the tank then with the shirt on,” Izzy glanced up at him.  
“You’re on. I want one of those stupid Gordon Ramsey level complicated recipes for dinner next week when I win.” 
“Fine. What do I get if I win?” 
“Which you won’t,” Lucius let the button down drop to the floor. “But let’s say....you can finally take that nude picture of me you asked about.” 
“Agreed,” Izzy said quickly. 
“How are we measuring this?” 
“I trust you to be honest about it,” Izzy shrugged and went back to typing. “Have a nice lunch. Bring sunglasses, it’s bright out there.” 
Lucius: This cannot be happening. 
Izzy: what’s that? 
Lucius: I have been trying to get the new waiter at this place’s attention for weeks. Stede tried to convince me he was straight because I was being so pathetic about it. 
Izzy: and? 
Lucius: and he gave me his number on a cocktail napkin under my drink just now like I’m in a Sex and the City episode. 
Izzy: You’re a Samantha, right? 
Lucius: how do you even know that reference? This day makes no sense. 
Izzy: Fang called me a Miranda once and I was pretty sure it was an insult so I had to do research. 
Lucius: How much research? 
Izzy: Pete is a Charlotte and Stede is a Carrie. Eddy is Big.  
Lucius:  So Miranda and Samantha are having a nude photo session is what I’m getting from this conversation. 
Izzy: You can wear the tank if you want. And I’ll still make you beef wellington. Always wanted to try that anyway. 
Lucius: i want to put you in a jar and study you like a bug sometimes. But sure, we can do both Tuesday. 
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dammitadolfnomorecake · 9 months
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Rage Fire Institution
Accelerating. 33.
Kidnapped back into the depths of the research wing, Maki was delivered into the hands of Doctor Suzu Kim. He still didn’t think he needed a doctor, let alone a doctor with a lab full of fancy equipment. Seeing he was being forced to go, he thought he’d have the right to have Tatsumi present so he could rub it in his friend’s face that he was worried for nothing. The arsehole daring to stand there waving goodbye as Maki was taken by the arm and led backwards, the door sliding closed between them.
“Mister Sato, please take a seat on the examination bed. You can leave your belongings on the table beside it. I’m Suzu Kim, Tatsumi told me you were running a fever”
Maki crossed his arms. Tatsumi had a big mouth
“I’m not. He’s overreacting”
Doctor Kim ignored him, busying herself by pulling on gloves. Maki didn’t want to know why. He wasn’t even ill
“I’m sure he is, but you’re here now, on the bed please”
Sensing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this, Maki did as he was told, trying his hardest not to over exaggerate each move. It was a waste of time. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched Doctor Kim roll over a trolley of things that looked less fun then her gloves
“I’m not ill. I don’t have a fever”
Doctor Kim really didn’t care. His protests falling on deaf ears
“I’m going to start with your temperature. Why don’t you tell my your symptoms other than fever. I had a quick look over your medical file and it seems you’ve stayed mostly in good health”
The Doctor held up her scanner in front of his face, Maki huffing
“I don’t have any. One minute I was thinking and the next thing I know Tatsumi is bringing me here”
The scanner gave a beep, Doctor Kim smiling as she showed him
“39.5, so you do indeed have a fever. Now, symptoms?”
Maki was sure if he did have a fever then he should know it, alphas naturally ran hot, but he usually sat on a pretty even 38 degrees Celsius
“I don’t have any. I didn’t know I had a fever”
“Alright, then have you done anything to explain it? Physical activity? Mental training?”
“No and no. We were doing homework”
“By we you mean you and Tatsumi?”
Who else was he going to mean?
“Yeah. We were in the library when he suddenly decided I had a fever”
Doctor Kim hummed as if that meant something. Maki had no clue what it could mean seeing he saw Tatsumi every day
“Any loss in concentration? Trouble holding conversation?”
Placing the scanner down, Doctor Kim picked up a blood pressure cuff, Maki holding his arm out so the thin piece of tech could be slid up it
“No. I mean, I was having trouble concentrating but that was because I had other thing on my mind”
“Such as?”
“Just… stuff. Nothing really important”
“Is this stuff something stressful?”
“I mean, a bit, but not like super stressful”
When the cuff turned green, Doctor Kim slid it back off the alpha’s arm
“Your heart rate is also elevated. How did you sleep last night?”
Maki felt himself redden. He’d slept like the dead a top of a human pillow. His Doctor clicked her tongue
“Ah”
Knowing what she was thinking, Maki quickly went to correct her
“No! No. Not like that. I had a really good sleep. Tatsumi and I were talking and fell asleep next to each other!”
As Maki died internally, Kim raised an eyebrow, her tone curious then she was nodding to herself
“You were with Tatsumi last night… wait, of course, that was yesterday”
“Whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t like that. He needed a friend”
Maki wished to the heavens someone would come along and stuff a gag into his stupid mouth. He was only making it sound worse and worse. Kim shook her head
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking that way. I know yesterday would have been hard on him because…”
The way she stopped herself from telling him why told Maki she knew and he didn’t want to talk about it
“I know what happened… I… uh, I don’t feel comfortable discussing that with Tatsumi not in the room”
Doctor Kim gave a small nod
“No, of course not. I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I’m glad he’s found a friend. No wonder he sent you to me instead of the school doctor, you must be quite the friend”
A friend who’d nearly kissed another friend… Maki mumbling
“I don’t know about that”
“I’m sure you’re selling yourself short. He has great faith in you. Now, I think I know what’s going on, but I need to check your glands. Is that alright?”
“Oh, sure…”
Letting Doctor Kim manipulate his neck, the woman smiled as she stepped back
“It’s good news, you’re going to live. The bad news is that you’re pre-rut. I saw you recently changed suppressants. How long ago was your last rut?”
“Just after New Years. I don’t use suppressants at home”
“So 8 months. I’ll give you an injection if you’d like, it’ll knock the rut symptoms back. I think Tatsumi’s pheromones must have gotten onto you while you slept and your body reacted from prolonged exposure and your own upset over your friend’s state”
Maki had never heard of such a thing. He knew alphas could and would get territorial… Had Tatsumi gotten territorial? Maybe because he’d fallen asleep on him?
“Is that possible?”
“Highly likely. He would have been in a terrible emotional state yesterday. Alcohol, and stress can lower the potency of suppressants. Especially when the omega is compromised with mental distress. You probably had a good nights rest due to his leaking pheromones, and your body released pheromones in response. It’s purely biological and nothing to worry over”
Maki blinked half a dozen times. His brow drawn as it did. Doctor Kim had said omega… but Tatsumi was an alpha… unless Tatsumi wasn’t an alpha… If Tatsumi was releasing pheromones… and his pheromones… Tatsumi was an omega? No. He’d ruled that out before… and he was pretty sure he couldn’t ask Doctor Kim to go back and repeat themself again. Then again… Tatsumi never came into the alpha dorm when they walked back together and he’d never bumped into him in there without Skylark around... and they always met outside… Why had never asked Tatsumi why he saw him off. The alpha jumping as the doctor clicked their fingers in front of him
“Mister Sato?”
No. He needed time to… to think. He felt like he was learning this for the first time, but strangely he also didn’t?
“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What was the question?”
“If you would like the injection or not. I’m assuming you have a mate, or at least a lover?”
Maki wished he’d remained ignorant to the question
“Uh, no… No”
Doctor Kim’s eyes widened in surprised
“I thought a young alpha such as yourself would have left a trail of broken hearts behind you. I only ask as it may affect your love life for the next few days if you do. Before you move, I’m going to take a quick sample from your gland, it’s just a swab test”
Maki didn’t care if it affected his love life, as long as he could pilot. Still, he felt ashamed as he answered
“I don’t have a love life… I’m not even sure what it means to be in love”
Doctor Kim gave a light chuckle
“There’s plenty of time for all of that. When the right person comes along, you’ll feel it”
That didn’t make logical sense. Li was falling in love every other day
“How do you know you’re in love?”
His Doctor went about opening a swab packet, humming lightly before answering
“Well, that person makes you happy, and you want to make them happy too”
Maki snorted
“That doesn’t sound right. I’m happy for my best friend but I’m not in love with him. Are you in love Doctor?”
“Ah, that’s a different type of love with friends. You can love your friends like a family and platonically. It’s that feeling you get when you see them, or when you get a message and you rush to reply. You get anxious and mad, sometimes you don’t understand why. It doesn’t necessarily start by wanting to kiss them or mate. It can be slow and gradual. Or it can be love at first sight and you make a fool of yourself. That’s how it was for me and Doctor Poaw. I fell hard and made an utter fool of myself. I wanted to shut up, and stop saying embarrassing things, but I couldn’t stop myself. Then there’s being in love. It’s anxiety, dependency, stress, jealousy, happiness, longing, contentment, fear, pushing and pulling, commitments, joy, sorrow, every emotion you experience by their side and the constant surprise of what comes next. But, it’s worth it because you work it out together in the end and come through stronger together. Love is acceptance. I guess that’s how I’d say it. You accept that neither of you are perfect beings and you handle it together”
Love sounded complicated… love also sounded a lot like how Maki felt when he was with Tatsumi. He couldn’t love his babysitter… so why did so many things align? Was it because Doctor Kim turned into an idiot, the way Li did, when talking about the person they loved?
“You research people are weird”
Having swabbed his gland while explaining, Doctor Kim placed his sample into a tube
“Maybe a little. You’re a bright alpha, and a good friend to our Tatsumi. Now there’s a man who’d never know how to say he loved someone. It’d be all mech parts and technical training”
“I’ve been told that before”
“It’s true. Poor man, if only he’d find a mate and let himself be happy. No, I’m not going to talk about that, you’re completely right about it being inappropriate without his expressed permission. Thank you for being there for him last night, it would have been hard for him to open up, so I’m glad you didn’t turn him down”
There was too much going into Maki’s brain for his brain to keep braining. He felt dumb replying
“Friends are there for friends”
Doctor Kim smiled brightly, moving on to fetching the promised injection
“That’s very true. Many of the bonds made here last a lifetime. Now, no piloting today. Not for 36 hours. Monitor your moods, temperature and glands. Don’t feel embarrassed if you suddenly feel sexual urges, it’s natural. If you feel the shot hasn’t worked, come back to me, okay? We can organise something else, or a sleep pod for your rut”
That was well and good. Maki knew he should be upset given his precious Erebus would have to wait, but there was something more important
“You… you won’t tell Tatsumi, right? He’ll be upset if he knows it was his pheromones”
“Doctor patient secrecy is a magical thing. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s your business”
“And you won’t put it in my file? If the principal finds out I might not be able to compete”
He also faced Tatsumi figuring it out and he didn’t want that. He needed to deal with everything else first in his head, like how he felt about the fact Tatsumi was an omega
“I’ll keep it out, all it will say is you presented with a low grade fever and I prescribed rest after giving you a shot for it. You’re the hope of our little research project team, they’d skin me alive if I prevented you competing”
Yeah, Maki could see that…
“Flo can be scary. I’m certain she still doesn’t like me”
“Flo? Oh, no. She’s all bark but not so much bite. No, Sara is the one you have to look out for, she’d sacrifice your internal organs if it got her an A. Dan isn’t much better”
Maki found himself smiling again, relieved Tatsumi wouldn’t find out that his pheromones had sent him into a prerut and relieved that Doctor Kim had a sense of humour
“I didn’t want to come here, but you’re much nicer than the school doctor”
“Aw, thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Now, this will sting. Big sting, none of this little sting business”
Having to sit and wait half an hour after the injection, Maki didn’t know why he’d thought Tatsumi would have given up waiting. Leaning against the hallway wall, the man quickly abandoned his comms and stood properly as soon as he saw him. Maki suddenly didn’t have a single idea of how he was going to explain things without sounding as if he was lying. Tatsumi looked so worried and relieved at the same time, making it hard for the alpha to look his friend in the eye
“Maki, how’d you go?”
Doctor Kim patted Maki’s shoulder
“He’ll be just fine. Small fever and a little mental fatigue, so I’ve given him a shot. No piloting today and tomorrow, but he’ll be right as rain. I’ve told him he’s got to take it easy and come back if he feels worse, right, Maki?”
“Yeah, right… I’m not sure I want to come back, they shouldn’t let you loose with needles”
Doctor Kim hadn’t lied to him, it was a bloody big sting as the needle entered his left gland. Still, he wouldn’t go into rut and Tatsumi would have nothing to feel guilty over, so it was worth it. Doctor Kim laughed happily
“Your face really did make such an interesting expression. Take him back to his dorm, and make sure he goes straight to bed”
“Thanks, Suzu. I know your schedule is busy but I appreciate you making time for him”
“Nonsense. He’s just like someone else we know, never comes by on his own merit and dislikes needles. It was nice to talk to someone actually interested in their own health”
Tatsumi coughed as he ducked his head, changing topic away from Doctor Kim calling him out
“Let’s get you back to your dorm, Maki. I’ll notify Skylark and let him know you’re down with a fever. He’ll organise it with your teachers”
Doctor Kim swapped from the supportive hand on the shoulder to propelling him towards Tatsumi and out of the safety of the lab. He’d been betrayed at the final hour. The pair waved off
“Don’t forget to call. Or write. Or visit”
Tatsumi shook his head, the man ruffling Maki’s hair
“Let’s get you back to your dorm room. Homework can wait”
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cpknightly1 · 2 years
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Hello Surgey Buddies
Have you taken your Doctor's temperature lately? Not that thermometer THE OTHER ONE.
I hope you are healing and well and enjoying the emense and intense HEAT. Please stay hydrated. But slowly. Don't try to gulp liquid down when your very hot. Drink slowly a little at a time. But steadily. If not, your body will sure tell you. "That was too fast"! You'll end up tossing your cookies. Nice and steady is the way.
So here's a question for you.
Have you ever made a phone call and been confused with a phone solicitor? At least that's what I think they thought. "Wrong number"....(click). Holy Crap.
Now I feel it's better not to call them again. Unless they call me back. Sheesh.
Today marks the 7th month I've been in this wrist brace. I have to have ice on it 24 hours a day.
The diagnosis I got was, "It just happens " WTF?
Let me explain. They thought my injury was a condition called "Kenibocks syndrome" where the bone in your wrist is losing it's blood supply and eventually has to be removed. It usually happens because of an injury..they think.
Think?? I went back, he presses on the bone and no pain at all. The supply was back. However the pain still continues. For those of you who may get this it's best to keep the blood flow up. I was surprised that it can be done with wine. Or red grapes.
PARTY! I don't drink so I used massage and gentle pt.
Dr. Says it may be neurological. I've become exasperated.
Have you noticed it's very difficult to get an appointment right now? There's like a back log of patients. So your appointments are weeks or even months away. The belief is because of the backlog of effects on society and Covid.
Hopefully within the next 6 months things will adjust. It is very important to keep the appointments you make. Stay vigilant. Because you don't know when you will get another.
I may see some of you in recovery soon with this wrist. I'll bring enough ice packs to make an igloo!! Maybe we should try to play some pinochle or jenga (oh sure). And plenty of rubber bands to fling at the Doctors. Be nice to your nurses. Remember they put the bandages on.
It is true that the healing of wounds or surgery can move quicker with a lack of stress and anxiety. It helps the body to adjust in a healthy way to healing. Also very important to rest. Don't go ga-ga that the healing is finished. You could have a longer time to heal or have other complications.
Ok so someone told me that a show called "Peaky Blinders" was really good. I started watching and ended up not being able to stop. It was a marathon week. Give it a look. It is a true story.
Have you ever done that? Watched a show and you can't stop watching? It's a really great show. Hence the reason I haven't watched the final season of "Derry Girls". I hate when good shows are done.
I've started ideas for the next book. And have procrastinated with the publishing. With this wrist. You really don't know how much you use your hands together and forget to stop from trying with the injured one. "SOAB"!! has been ringing out through the entire house.
As the summer comes to an end..don't stop going to the gym. This happens to many people. And it's during these next months that your body will need it most. Halloween candy, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Even if you go twice a week you'll feel better and keep your weight in check.
I keep looking at my guitar and sighing. I'm counting on the process of the wrist to be over soon. Remember I still have 4 nodes in my throat that will be removed. Everything having to do with music is in the waiting room.
How am I coping? "Animal Crossing ". I play one handed but it takes my mind off. If you're in the game and you'd like to see my island send your amiibo#.
That's the story for now.
Always,
Chris
🌹❤️🙃
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puppypaw-wc · 3 years
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so isn’t the second covid shot supposed to be WORSE than the first?
cuz i feel better than i did after getting the first sfkjflskk-
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Hey 👋
I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤
Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.
Or
Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.
Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣
Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕
Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!
Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.
trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking
You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.
You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.
You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.
You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.
"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.
With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."
"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."
"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."
"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."
Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.
You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.
"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"
"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.
You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.
Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."
The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"
You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."
"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"
Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.
"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.
You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."
You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.
"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"
"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.
"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"
Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.
Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."
"Will, I-" you protested.
"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."
You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.
Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.
He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.
"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"
"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."
"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."
"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.
"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.
Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."
"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.
You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.
"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"
"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.
"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"
"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.
You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."
"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.
"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.
"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."
"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.
You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.
"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."
Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.
"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"
"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.
"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"
"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.
You nodded. "Naturally."
Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."
"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."
Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."
You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."
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hornime · 3 years
Text
watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan
there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.
warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial
w/c: 3.1k
a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!
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in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?
he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.
[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?
[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??
iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?
[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.
[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question
[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?
[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda
[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this
[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it
[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata 
iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?
[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...
[06:45 AM] hinata: YES
[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question
[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto
[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this
[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too
[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up
[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum
he chuckled in disbelief.
[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum
[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??
[06:47 AM] miya: NO
[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM
[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO
[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think
he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.
[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable
[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen
[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^
[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it
[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too
[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out
[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb
[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.
[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out
[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least
iwaizumi sighed.
[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman
to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.
you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.
“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.
“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”
you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”
at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”
after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”
“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”
“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”
“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”
you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”
and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.
practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere. 
you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.
“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”
he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”
he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”
you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched. 
you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.
there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.
"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.” 
his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”
hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.
“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements. 
“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.” 
he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”
he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”
he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”
“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”
“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.
“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”
“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”
“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.
iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”
they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.
"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.
“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”
“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.
“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”
they nodded simultaneously.
“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”
suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”
hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”
iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”
his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”
“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.
“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”
you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”
your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.
a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.
“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix. 
“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”
“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.
“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.
“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.” 
their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs. 
“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”
“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”
“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”
“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”
he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.
your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.
“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.
“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”
“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.
iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”
you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”
iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.
your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”
you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.
he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist. 
he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”
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finelinevogue · 3 years
Note
Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?
i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;
You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.
Hot. Sticky. But chilled.
You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.
You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .
You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.
It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.
You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.
It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.
Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.
The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.
"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.
"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.
"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.
"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.
"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.
"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.
"Someone's jealous."
"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.
"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.
"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.
Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.
"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.
"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.
"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.
••••
You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.
Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?
Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.
You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.
"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.
"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.
"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.
He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.
Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.
"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.
"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.
"Why?"
"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.
After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.
"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.
"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.
"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.
“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.
Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.
"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.
"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.
You hated how he was right.
It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.
"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.
•••••
It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.
All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.
The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.
You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.
"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.
"If I do die—"
"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.
"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.
"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"
"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.
"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."
You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.
Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.
“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.
“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.
The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.
"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.
"Unfortunate for you, I guess."
"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.
"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.
"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.
Happily.
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snackhobi · 3 years
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pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)
summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.
but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.
or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.
warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex
a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?
--
Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.
He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.
You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.
Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.
You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.
(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)
However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.
“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.
Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 
“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)
“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.
“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”
You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.
Jesus Christ.
“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 
“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”
Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 
You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.
And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.
“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”
The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?
That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)
“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”
The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.
You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)
“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.
You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.
“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 
“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”
That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.
“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”
For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 
Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?
Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?
You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 
(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)
The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’
The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.
… Anyway.
You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.
Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.
“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”
“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 
Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.
“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.
(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)
You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.
“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”
At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.
“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.
The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.
“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 
“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”
“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”
You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”
You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.
You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 
You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”
Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”
Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.
By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.
“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”
You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 
“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.
You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 
Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.
“How’s your shoulder feeling?”
“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.
“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.
The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.
“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”
When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”
--
Your luck doesn’t last.
“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”
You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”
Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.
“What do you think sounds best?”
“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”
“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”
“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”
Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.
Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”
“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.
“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”
Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.
He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 
“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”
Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.
“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”
“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”
“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.
When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”
You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 
“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”
“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”
You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.
“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”
“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”
Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”
“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”
“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”
“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.
There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.
You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.
The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.
The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.
Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.
You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.
Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.
He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.
“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”
He just shakes his head.
“Okay,” you say.
(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)
The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 
“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.
“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”
Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”
“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.
“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”
There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.
He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 
(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)
So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 
“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”
Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”
Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?
You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.
“Taehyung?”
“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”
You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 
“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)
His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”
Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.
But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.
The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.
Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?
(You’re going to die.)
It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 
And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.
It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 
(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)
Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 
… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.
… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.
You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.
“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.
Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.
In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.
(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)
“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”
Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.
You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”
(It’s not cool.)
You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.
At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.
But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 
“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.
It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 
You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.
Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.
“Better?”
Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.
“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”
You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 
Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.
(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)
Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.
Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—
Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 
(What is he doing?)
But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.
They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.
“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.
His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 
“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.
He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”
“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.
Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”
You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—
Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.
“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”
He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”
It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.
“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”
You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.
“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 
(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)
(But.)
(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)
“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”
He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.
“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 
“Yes, love?”
You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 
(You’re not.)
“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.
Before you can think, you nod.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”
You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—
His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.
You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 
“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”
“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.
“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”
“Anything you want,” he murmurs.
Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.
Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.
You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.
“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”
“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.
“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”
You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.
“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”
Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.
You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.
Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.
“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”
“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 
Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.
When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.
“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.
“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 
“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”
Of course you want to.
“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”
He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.
“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 
(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)
You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.
(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)
You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.
“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”
Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.
“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”
Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.
He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.
“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”
Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 
“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 
Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.
“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.
And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—
—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.
“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.
“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”
He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”
“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.
There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.
“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”
“You got edible massage oil from your course?”
Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”
You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 
“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”
Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.
“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.
“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.
That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”
“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”
“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”
It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.
When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.
“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”
His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 
“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 
“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.
Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.
“You really are perfect,” he says.
“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.
He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 
Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 
There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.
You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.
“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”
“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”
His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.
“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”
A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.
“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”
“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.
Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.
Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.
“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”
“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.
“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”
It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.
(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)
When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.
Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.
“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”
“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”
When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—
The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.
You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.
One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 
“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”
Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”
“Here?”
He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.
(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)
He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.
You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.
“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”
“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”
And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.
And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 
Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.
“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”
And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.
He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.
You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 
When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.
“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”
You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—
“Oh, fuck—”
—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.
When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.
(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)
You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.
“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 
You pause.
“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”
“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 
You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”
“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”
You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”
There’s a pause. “Really?”
When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.
You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”
When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”
“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.
“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”
“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”
You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.
Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”
Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.
(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)
When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.
“Taehyung?”
“Yes, angel?”
You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”
Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.
“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”
“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”
And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.
--
(“Hey, Pickles.”
The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.
“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”
Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.
“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”
Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.
“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.
“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”
Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)
--
taglist: @beyoncesdragon​
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cuttoothed · 3 years
Text
A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.
Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!
*
Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.
“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.
There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.
“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.
“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”
The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.
“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”
“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.
“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”
Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.
“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”
“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.
“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.
“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”
He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.
“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”
After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.
“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.
“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”
“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”
“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”
Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.
Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.
“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”
“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”
“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.
“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”
“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”
He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.
“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”
He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.
“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”
“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.
“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”
“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.
“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.
“S-sorry?”
“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”
“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.
“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.
“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.
“I will,” says Jon solemnly.
*
He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:
Thank you :)
Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.
*
He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.
“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.
“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”
“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.
“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”
“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.
“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:
“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”
“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!
“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”
“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.
“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”
Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.
“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.
“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”
“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.
“I think it rather does.”
*
Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.
Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.
When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.
“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.
“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.
“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.
They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.
“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”
“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”
“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.
*
As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:
Come back and see us soon!
Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.
543 notes · View notes
shingia · 3 years
Text
✗ SLEEPING TOGETHER HCS pt.1
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i wish i had the guts to write nsfw but i don’t so please enjoy this tooth-rotting fluff <3
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pt.2
-> suna, kita, sakusa, osamu, kenma
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☾ SUNA
• suna is always in the extremes when he sleeps, let me explain :
• first of all, he either goes to bed at 8.30pm or at 5am, no in between
• and he’s either boiling hot or cold as ice, which means that he either sleeps with no blanket at all or with just the top of his head and his eyes out (plz take a few seconds to picture that)
• the only thing he’s constant about is his sleeping position : big spoon 24/7, he says it helps him “regulate his body temperature”
• when he’s up until late, it’s always because of the ungodly amount of time he spends on his phone
• you already had to take it away yourself, so now whenever you turn around in bed he freaks out, puts his phone under the pillow and pretends to be sound asleep (he’s really good at it)
• when he lays on his side, a few of his brown locks tend to fall on his face, and if you’re lucky you can catch him unconsciously flick his hair back and get frustrated in his sleep if it doesn’t work
• if so then please help the poor boy and put his hair behind his ear, you’ll always get a sleepy « thank you » and he might even hold you closer
☾ KITA
• alright now this man can be scary af when he sleeps. and by that i mean that he can probably spend entire nights without moving. at all.
• but it’s just because he’s really comfortable when he sleeps with you. and he does not even need to hold you all night, just knowing that you’re here is enough
• the last thing he wants is to disrupt your sleep which is why he was pretty reluctant to fall asleep while cuddling because he was afraid you were going to get uncomfortable after a few hours
• but if you ever ask him to hold you then it’s a whole different story. he’ll cuddle you with great pleasure and always hold your hand, even loosely
• kita always makes sure there’s a glass of water on the bedside table of your side of the bed, because he knows how annoying it is to wake up in the middle of the night with a dry throat
• he usually reads before going to bed and he has already fallen asleep with the book still open on his chest many times
• definitely an early riser (usually the first one up). while you’re still asleep, he’ll get a few things done around the house but he almost always comes back to bed to spend time with you as soon as you wake up
☾ SAKUSA
• as soon as sakusa is used to sleeping with you, there’s no going back. he physically can’t fall asleep if you’re not there, at least not before a few hours
• some days he'll patiently wait wide awake in bed if you go to sleep long after him, but sometimes he doesn’t feel like waiting and will drag you to bed mercilessly
• like kita, he does not feel the need to be super super close to you all night long, but no matter what, he always keeps his legs tangled with yours
• he probably has the cleanest sheets mankind has ever seen. luckily his detergent has a nice scent because let’s just say that the smell is strong
• because he has wavy hair, it can be pretty tangled in the morning and it always makes him sigh when he’s looks in the mirror
• sakusa loves your voice and will probably fall asleep while listening to you talk. but he makes sure you know that it's not because you're boring, it’s just that your voice really soothes him
• i can picture sakusa as being someone who can wake up in the middle of the night and randomly start to wonder if their s/o is still breathing. since he does not want to take any risk, he’ll often do little check-ups to be sure you’re just asleep and not passed out
☾ OSAMU
• he most definitely keeps snacks under the bed at all times
• if you ever catch him eating during the night he’ll just smile and offer to share with you (it can quickly turn into an indoor picnic if you’re hungry too)
• samu’s a big fan of night cuddles and loves holding you tight, but his biggest weakness is when he’s sleeping on his stomach and feels your arms hug his back. that drives him crazy
• but since he moves so much during his sleep, it never lasts the whole night. i think he could wake up upside down and be upset that you did not keep cuddling with him
• oh and he talks in his sleep, and it’s the funniest thing ever : “that’s a nice duck you got there kita” “no tsumu, i can’t just buy canada they’ll get mad !” (i genuinely think the twins can have conversations together while sleeping, suna definitely recorded it)
• samu was so used to live under the same roof as his loud brother that he’s become the heaviest sleeper, so every morning his alarms are super loud and he always wakes up startled
• also, he rarely sleeps with both a t-shirt and sweatpants. it’s one or the other...
☾ KENMA
• kenma loves you dearly, but you’re still gonna have to put a lot of effort in making him stay in bed rather than play his games first thing in the morning
• but once he gives up and accepts to stay in bed with you, he wants to make the most of it and will give you the best (lazy) cuddles
• he loves to see you wrapped up in a blanket when you’re asleep because you look smaller than you actually are, and for once he’s glad that he’s not the tiny one
• he probably takes very late showers and often goes to bed with wet hair. so sometimes you’ll be woken up by one or two droplets that have fallen on your cheeks
• it’s mostly because he spends so much time playing video games, but kenma has the weirdest dreams. sometimes they’re pretty cool, but most of the time they’re just fucked up (he sometimes mumbles a few things in his sleep and what you hear never makes any sense)
• which is why it’s very frequent that he gives little kicks in his sleep, or just muscles spasms in general. his face is also rather expressive, more than when he’s awake at least
• if his dreams are actually more like nightmares and wake him up, he’ll have to squint his eyes to try to see you in the dark and bring himself closer to you before going back to sleep
818 notes · View notes
nukacoola · 3 years
Text
Companions React to Sole Visiting Their Dead Spouse Part 1/2
Ada:
Today Sole had informed Ada that they wanted to visit the vault they had come from. Ada had heard a bit about vaults from Jackson but she had yet to visit one herself. When they began to descend on the elevator that led to the vault, Ada noticed Sole’s mood start to shift. She recognized the emotion in Sole’s face to be sadness, greif. Ada knew of this emotion from what she had experienced with Jackson and her fellow robot’s deaths. She began to suspect that Sole was visiting the death site of someone who she was close to. They continued to walk
 through the vault until they arrived at the entrance of a short hall. The hall seemed to house a number of large machines. Ada’s internal thermometer told her that it was quite cold so she assumed the machines were the source of the unusual temperature. Sole’s mood seemed to worsen as they led Ada down the hall. Ada noticed as they walked that frozen human corpses were held in each of the pod-like machines. When they stopped before one of the pods towards the end of the hall it became clear to Ada that Sole had a relationship with the deceased human they had stopped at. Sole looked up at the deceased human and their eyes began to water. Ada remembered back to her own experiences with death and grief. She felt she had to help Sole as Sole had helped her. 
“I understand how you feel, Ma’am/Sir. If there is anything I can do to aid you please let me know.” Sole smiled sadly and turned slightly. 
“Thank you, Ada. I appreciate you being here for me.” Sole then turned back to face the dead human. They shed a few tears before they approached a control panel that presumably controlled the machine the dead human was in. They pulled a lever and the Ada heard a hiss of the pod depressurising. The door to the pod slowly opened as Sole approached the human. They seemed to be taking a ring off of the hand of the human. They held the cold metal to their lips and whispered something Ada could not hear before slipping the ring in their pocket. 
“Alright, we can go now.” They addressed Ada as they moved to close the door of the pod. “Thank you.” They repeated.
“You are welcome, Ma’am/Sir.” Ada responded. Ada and Sole then left the vault together. Ada knew that there was no way she could repay Sole for how they helped her, but she would still continue to try.
Cait:
“Why do we have ta go to this stupid ice box again?” Cait complained, rubbing her bare arms. 
“It’s not my fault you refused to wear a coat.” Sole joked but Cait noticed their voice had a twinge of sadness in it. Cait had been confused when Sole asked her to come to Vault 111 with them. They’d been traveling together for ages and Sole didn’t really ask Cait if she wanted to go places, they just went. The location of today was weird as well. Usually they had a purpose for the places they went. Some lazy settlers couldn’t get off their arse’s to fight off a few ghouls or they were gettin’ a handful a’ caps to go fight a bunch a’ muties. Today’s trip to Vault 111 was weird and out of the blue. Cait didn’t like it but it seemed important to Sole so she agreed. Together they walked further into the vault and the further they walked the colder it got. They eventually reached a wide hall full of weird human sized containers. Cait noticed the ice that slicked the floor and the frost that stuck to the windows of the weird containers as they passed the first one she peered in the window. The dead body of a frozen woman in a vault suit was inside. She had seen a fair amount of bad shit in her day and this whole vault definitely made the cut. Sole had stopped in front of an ice coffin close to the end of the hall when Cait realized. Sole had told her about their dead spouse a while back and they’d also mentioned how they’re from a vault. This was that vault. That body they were now cryin’ in front of was their spouse. Seeing Sole like that did not feel good. Not good at all. She needed to reassure them, she hated it when they were upset.
“I know this must be difficult for you.” She stepped forwards, “I… I’m here if you need to talk.” Sole turned to her and smiled. They reached out their hand to take Cait’s. 
“Thank you, Cait. You’re a great friend.” They squeezed Cait’s hand. Cait squeezed back and watched Sole as hot tears continued to roll down their cheeks. She hoped that one day they could be more than friends. Maybe then Cait could wipe those tears away an’ kiss away the burns of grief they had left behind. For now, though, this is all she needed. 
Codsworth:
It had been a hard week for Sole and Codsworth. The initial reunion of the two had been nothing but joyful. The family had been reunited against all odds! But of course it wasn’t the whole family. The absence of Sole’s better half and young Shaun left a gaping hole in both Sole’s real and Codsworth’s metaphorical hearts. The shock of their partner’s murder and Shaun’s kidnapping had worn off for Sole and in it’s wake, it left them cripplingly depressed. The past three days Sole had barely been able to get out of bed. They just listened to their partner’s holotape on repeat while cradling young Shaun’s favorite rattle in their arms’. Codsworth had been doing his best to care for them, bringing them food and water and making sure to check up on them every hour or so, but he was becoming worried. He was just preparing lunch for Sole when he was surprised by their figure standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Codsworth greeted them excitedly. Sole awkwardly hugged his large metal body and thanked him for all the meals he had prepared and all the patience he had shown. They explained how when they had left the vault, they were in such shock that they never got to say a real goodbye to their partner. Codsworth listened patiently and happily agreed when they asked him to accompany them back to the vault to say a real goodbye.
They entered the cold concrete bunker which Codsworth had previously waited and hoped to see stir for over 210 years. Sole led him through the halls and the two eventually arrived at some machinery which Sole identified as the cryogenic freezing pods. They approached the end of the hall and Sole moved to one of the many control panels next two one of the many pods. After puzzling over the panel they tried pulling a red lever. The large door of the cryo pod hissed as it slowly opened to reveal their spouse. Standing next to Codsworth in front of their partner, they grabbed and held the grasper fixed on one of his three arms. Even with one his beloved family members standing dead right before him, Codsworth still couldn’t believe it.
“Oh dear, is that…” he trailed off, “Mum/Sir, I’m… I’m so sorry.” Codsworth tried to keep his heartbroken voice steady as Sole began to softly sob next to him. He wished more than anything he could hug them, but since he could not, this almost hand holding would have to do. They stood there, mourning together for about two hours before Sole was ready to go. They were still very torn up. But it seemed as if a large weight had been lifted from their chest. Before they closed their partner’s pod, Sole went up to them and removed their wedding ring.
“I’ll find who did this, and I’ll get Shaun back. I promise” they said to their spouse.
“Indeed Mum/Sir. We’ll stop at nothing to get young Shaun back!” Sole smiled at Codsworth and together the two set off to find Sole’s baby.
Curie:
After everything Sole had done to help Curie, there wasn’t even a second thought on whether or not she would go with them to the vault they had come from. She would help Sole with anything, no matter what. When she had first booted up in vault 81 she was very excited to dedicate herself to the scientific endeavors of Vault-Tec. When her fellow scientist informed her of how they would be growing hundreds of pathogens in mole rats and testing these pathogens on unsuspecting humans, she felt bad. As bad as a Ms.Nanny model robot could at least. She eventually grew attached to the mole rats they were infecting. She was especially fond of sweet little Clyde. When one day Clyde escaped his cage, Curie did not have time to warn the scientists she had worked with. Despite her friend’s deaths, Curie took solace in the fact that the morally gray work of Vault-Tec’s could not continue. Despite the conductors of the experiment's deaths, Curie continued her work. 200 years later, she had been finished with the cure for a long while. She was pretty much stuck in this small area of the vault waiting to be told she could leave. Thankfully, Sole came along and her prayers were answered! They released her and told her about a young boy who was infected. She was able to help the one human who had the misfortune of being infected by the molerat disease with her life’s work, the cure. After that, Sole had welcomed Curie to continue her scientific studies alongside them. When Sole eventually helped Curie become alive, however, was when Curie truly understood how much she loved Sole. She would go to the ends of the earth for them so accompanying them to a vault was, as Sole might say, no big deal.
On the walk to the vault Sole told an inquisitive Curie about the experiment 111 had performed. They also told Curie how losing their spouse and child happened while they were still trapped in their cryogenic pod. They told Curie that they were visiting the body of their deceased spouse. It wasn’t too long of a walk before they reached the familiar facility. Sole led Curie through the cool halls of the vault and down a short hall to their spouse’s body. They took a deep breath and stepped up to the control panel adjacent to the cryo pod. After fiddling with the controls the pod appeared to depressurize and open. Curie’s heart ached for Sole. She knew how loss felt and of all the human emotions she was now able to feel, she liked that one the least. 
Sole began to cry at seeing their deceased partner again. Curie had an urge to cry too. It was such an awful feeling. As much as she wanted to though, she knew she couldn’t give in to it. She had to stay strong for her dearest friend who must be struggling a lot more than she is right now. She stepped closer to her partner and gently laid a hand on their upper back. 
“I wish I knew how to make zis better. It iz not a phyzical injury that I can heal.” Curie was silent for a moment, thinking of what to say next, “However I know it still hurts terribly. I am here for you always.” Sole slumped and began to cry harder which made Curie very worried. Maybe she had said the wrong thing! Did she make it worse? But right when she was going to apologize and excuse herself Sole turned around and hugged her tightly. She hugged back and allowed Sole to cry on her shoulder. 
“Thank you Curie, you’re the best.” They sniffled out. Curie smiled as a few stray tears fell down her face. She was so glad she was able to help her friend as they have helped her so many times before.
Danse: 
Danse hadn’t known what to expect when his fellow soldier had requested they make a stop at Vault 111 during their recon mission to the far reaches of the commonwealth. He of course knew that Sole was from this vault. They had told him so upon their first meeting. He remembered being surprised that Sole had admitted to being a Vault Dweller, though he now understood they probably had no idea of the stigma surrounding Vault Dwellers as they had only been above ground for a short time. Nonetheless, when he granted permission for his subordinate to lead him to the vault he assumed they wanted to go back for something they had not taken when they had first left. He never suspected to walk into a graveyard of frozen corpses. Of course he knew the basics of what had occurred here. Sole had told him a bit about their spouse and the cruel experiment unknowingly performed on them both. Even knowing this, experiencing the criminal loss of life Vault-Tec had caused first hand was rather sickening. He could only imagine what Sole was going through. 
Danse soon found that he did not have to imagine. Sole had led him down an isle of frozen bodies before stopping in front one. He noticed their hands were shaking as they reached for the control panel standing next to the pod they had stopped at. They pulled a red lever and the contraption hissed as the door began to open. Danse could see a frozen body held within the metal pod. Sole’s whole body was shaking now. From his place off to the side of them he could see tears rolling down their cheeks. This must be their spouse. Danse was at a loss. He wanted to help them but he knew there was no way he could do anything that would get them over such an incredible loss. Even so, he needed to do something. His power armor hissed as it depressurized. He stepped out of it and approached Sole. 
“Take as long as you need, Soldier.”  He placed a hand on their shoulder briefly before turning away to give them space. As he began to leave, Sole grabbed his hand. He turned to them, surprised. He only got to see the tears streaming down Sole’s red, blotchy cheeks for a moment before they roughly pulled him towards them for a hug. Shocked, he stiffened. It was only when they started to softly sob into his chest that he refocused and hugged them back. They stayed that way for a long time. Danse couldn’t help but think back to Scribe Haylen. The situation was nearly the same and yet he didn’t have the same ache in his chest when he had held the scribe. Eventually Sole’s sobs turned to sniffles and sniffles to silence. Their hold on him loosed and Danse took this as his queue to release them. Their face was still puffy and red but as he looked down at them while they smiled up at him he couldn’t help but think how beautiful they looked. 
“Thank you.” They breathed. Danse simply nodded. Sole turned away from him to right themselves and he used this opportunity to get back into his power armor. Sole closed up the cryogenics pod and they left the vault without another word shared. Danse hoped he had helped them. Even if it was only in a small way.
Deacon:
When Sole asked Deacon to accompany them on a visit to Vault 111, he of course accepted. This is not to say that he was excited. Far from it. He would never admit it to them, but he had done a lot of research on Vault 111 far before he had met Sole. He had taken a particular interest in this vault after hearing a rumor of Institute activity near it. After trying and failing to get into it, he went to Vault-Tec headquarters in hopes of finding some more info on this particular experiment. He had been able to guess the vault had some type of human-cryogenic-preservation thing going on due to terminals he’d read there and books he’d read elsewhere. After Sole had left the vault, the interior door was open and Deacon was able to explore further. One cryo pod being open while the rest were full of corpses painted a pretty clear picture. The internal terminals allowed Deacon to discover that there was once an infant “housed” there. The infant belonged to the vaultie he saw leave and the only corpse who’s cause of death was a bullet to the head. It was pretty clear to him what had happened. What he didn’t know was what the Institute needed with an infant.
Due to his research, Deacon obviously knew exactly what happened in that Vault. He also knew how much it had taken from Sole specifically and he had a pretty good idea of why they wanted to go back. His suspicions were confirmed when they led him down a familiar hall of cryo pods. They stopped close to the end of the short hallway to stand in front of the dead person Deacon had first seen almost a year ago. He looked to Sole, they were staring at the body and shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the murder. He settled on both. He tried not to remember just how much he understood their pain, but of course he couldn’t forget. His chest tightened as he saw tears beginning to leak from their eyes. They shakily reached for the control panel next to the coffin and pulled the red lever to open it. Their face began to contort into an expression Deacon knew very well. Their tears were flowing freely now and he felt he had to do something, anything to try to help them. He approached them and placed a hand on their shoulder, effectively wrapping his arm around them. They stood there for about a minute, Sole sniffling from time to time, before Sole turned into him and wrapped their arms around him. Deacon didn’t think about how it could be dangerous when he hugged them back, he just did. He held Sole in that cold, empty room for a long time. Even after Sole had stopped crying, they stood there. 
“Thanks Dee.” Sole whispered before finally letting go of Deacon. They looked up at him, smiling and though he didn’t know why he felt his stomach flip, he provided a small smile back. Sole closed the pod and together the pair left Vault 111, hopefully, for the last time.
Dogmeat:
When Dogmeat woke up that morning it was just another day with his wonderful friend. Throughout the day however, Dogmeat began to worry. He felt his friend start to become sad. This made him sad too. He loved his friend! He wanted his friend to be happy! He stuck close to their side especially when they entered a very cold big place which seemed to make his friend even more sad. He and his friend walked further into the cold place until they decided to stop. His friend sat down on the cold floor so Dogmeat did too. He saw that his friend had begun to cry. He whimpered and rested his head in his friend’s lap. For a while they sat, Dogmeat’s friend slowly stroking Dogmeat’s fur and eventually, they stopped crying. Dogmeat sat up and blinked at his friend. His friend gave him a sad smile, he gave them a big slobbery kiss. His friend laughed and so he gave them another kiss. His friend kissed his forehead before standing. Together, they walked out of the cold place. Dogmeat was happy, and he felt his friend was too.
Gage: Gage was never into the touchy feely stuff but he had to admit he had a soft spot for the Overboss. They’re badass as hell and take no shit but they also knew how to be compassionate when they needed to be. It was something Gage had never been able to do well and something he respected in his boss. There was something off about them the day they asked Gage to accompany them to Vault 111 in the Commonwealth. They seemed more timid, like they were worried about his response. He’d already told them he’d follow them to the ends of the earth and he meant it so of course he said yes. The trip was long and the boss seemed to get quieter and more down the closer they got to the vault. This was worrying to Gage. Like he said, he wasn’t good at the touchy feely stuff. He wasn’t gonna know how to deal with it if the Boss needed someone to comfort them from whatever was making them sad. 
They finally reached the vault and Sole instructed him to stand on the gear shaped platform while they ran over to a small building nearby. After about 30 seconds lights around the platform started to flash. There was the sound of a blaring alarm paired with a rumbling of the ground beneath him. He was about to get the hell off of the thing but Sole ran over to wait on the platform next to him. If it was safe in Sole’s eyes, Gage supposed he would trust it. After a few seconds the platform started to lower with a loud screech of metal on metal. Despite the bad feeling that was growing exponentially inside of him he followed the Overboss’ example. When the vault elevator brought them down to solid ground again, Sole led the way through a cold metal complex to a bunch of weird machinery that really just looked like a bunch of fancy coffins. Looking through the small glass windows on the weird pods proved that that’s exactly what they were. Sole’s footsteps were heavy and slow as they led Gage down the icey corridor. There was something very personal about this place to them. He would soon find out what it was as they stopped in front of on of the coffins. Sole fidgeted with their hands for a moment before they reached to the control panel next to the pod and opened it. There was a hiss of depressurization when the door opened to reveal a body. Someone they’d obviously known and been close to. The Boss’ posture slumped and they started… crying. They were crying… Dammit, Gage had no idea how to deal with this. He had to do something to let them know he cared though, because he did. He stepped closer to Sole reaching his hand out to them before recoiling it. Oh god. Alright just say something, anything.
“Hey, uh, Boss, I just want you to know- well I get it. And I’m real sorry.” They huffed a laugh through tears. Fuck did he do it wrong?? But before he could worry too much they turned to him with a sad smile. 
“Thank you Gage, really, thank you.” He nodded stiffly, not knowing how else to react. They stood there in silence for a while before Sole closed the pod and stepped back, wiping their tears away. Gage looked away put of respect until they cleared their throat. “Ready to get out of this shithole?” They smiled at him.
“Hell yeah, you lead the way, Boss.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So I saw a video of the Companion’s comments upon bringing them back to Vault 111 and opening your spouses pod and I wanted to write a little thing. :) The bold sentences are real in game dialogue but not every character has some. This is part 1 of 2 so if your favorite isn’t in this one don’t worry. 
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parvulous-writings · 3 years
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36 Degrees C // McCree x Reader
Request:   Hello❧ Can I please get fluff 14 with McCree? It has been miserable with the heat and I wish I could work at night instead of day time because I teeter between overheating and heatstroke most days and thus am awake at night for some mercyful coolness. My friends are striving but my heat tolerance is zero and I strive at below zero celcius... 😥How are you holding up?                -Seriously overheated Blue❧ 💙
Requested by: Blue​
Summary: A oneshot using the prompt “ “It’s okay... I couldn’t sleep anyway...” “, also based on  Blue’s predicament- hopefully it brings you some sort of peace <3
Warnings: None
Words: 1K 
Notes: I feel your pain, Blue- I also struggle greatly in the heat. Anything over about 20 degrees Celsius and I can’t spend more than about 20-30 minutes outside at a time, unless I’m under good enough cover, which is rare. So, I stay inside all the time during summer. Though, someone or something must be watching over me, because it’s been overcast and raining ever since my birthday, where I am.  Also, I have finally reached 100 followers! Whoop whoop! 
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Not my gif
The past week or so had been nothing more than a scorcher, weather-wise. There was no clouds in the sky, let alone any other sign of rain. It was not a good time for you- heat made you suffer to a degree where you could have sworn your every waking moment was spend living in hell, or some similarly high-temperature place. Heat was never your strong suit- you thrived in lower temperatures, much lower temperatures. To put it simply, you’d much rather be sent to Echopoint than Petra.  Jesse, on the other hand, he loved the heat, he soaked up the sun like a basking viper. He spent every chance he got outside, reveling in the sun and it’s light, and he even got a bit more of a tan going with how long he’d spend out there. You didn’t know how he did it, how he endured such heat and mugginess. The only time you ever got any peace from aforementioned heat was after sundown, so this had thrown your entire sleep schedule out of balance. It was not a fun time, to say the least. It was like a constant state of sleep paralysis, in some ways; you didn’t feel quite alive- you could hardly move most days- but you didn’t feel quite dead either. Whilst you experienced such torment and hardship, McCree just acted as if he were living his best life, like he couldn’t be happier. 
One night, just after sundown, and when you had finally regained your ability to move, you strode towards the window. You opened it carefully, allowing a cool breeze to waft through, cooling you down further. Jesse was fast asleep in your shared bed, and he didn’t mind the breeze one bit. Or, he didn’t react to it at least. You perched yourself on the windowsill- you room was high up enough that you had the perfect view of the landscape, vast and sweeping. You let your eyes wander over the sight before you, your eyes eventually landing on some faint lights in the distance. You sigh gently. How peaceful it seems out here, in the dead of night, no one awake to make a sound.  The contrast between night and day at the complex was rather frightening at times, especially when walking the corridors. Usually they bustled with life, but at night, there was silence, and lots of it. 
You were roused from your train of thought from the shuffling of covers. You look over your shoulder towards the only other person in the room. The breeze had gotten stronger during the time you had been thinking to yourself, and it was now disturbing Jesse. Though you moved to close the window for him, it was too late, he had been woken up by the chill. As he sat up, and laid his sleepy eyes on you, you gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry...” You say quietly to him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Jesse gave a quiet grunt as he pushed himself into a seated position.  “It’s fine... I couldn’t sleep anyway...” He lied, jokingly. As he stretched his arms behind his head he gave a little bit of a yawn. “What’re ya doin’ up so late, anyhow? It’s the middle of the damn night, ya should be over here..” He patted the empty space next to him. “With me.” He chuckled lightly. You gave him a little bit of a shrug in reply.  “Too hot, I guess.” Jesse gave a deep sigh at that.  “Are ya still complainin’ about the weather? It’s lovely durin’ the day, what are ya on about?”  “It’s not my kind of weather, Jesse.” You explain. “I don’t deal with the heat as well as you do.. I can’t.” Jesse rolls his eyes a little, though it’s hard to see in the low light.  “Oh come on, now, Sugarcube,” He starts, trying to coax you over. “Just come over here...” He waves you over, and you fold your arms over your chest.  “Did you not listen to a single word I just said?”  “Well, yeah, ‘course I did...” He pauses. “I just thought that some snuggles might cheer ya up...” You give him a rather unimpressed look.  “It’s too hot!” You insist. “You need to start thinking more with that,” You point to his head, “And less with that.” You point down to his hips.
You turn back to the window, though you hear more shuffling. You ignore it for the most part, and the sound turns into the heavy pat of feet against the cold floor. A pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you into the still very warm chest of Jesse. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head, before his chin rested on your shoulder. “C’mon, Sugar... I know it’s hot, but it’s lonely without ya in bed...” He whined quietly, though you knew that he was only joking beneath that. You chuckled gently at his words, reaching up behind you to carefully caress his beard. He leans into the touch, humming quietly in approval of the contact.  “Just a few more minutes, cowboy...” You say quietly to him, and he falls silent. The silence doesn’t overly last long though, as the gunslinger sweeps you up into his arms. “C’mon, you need sleep. I don’t want to have to deal with ya bein’ grumpy in the mornin’.” You struggled in his grip, wanting to be put down.  “Jesse!” You hiss, not wanting to be too loud and wake up your neighbours. “Put me down!” He doesn’t listen to you, still keeping you clasped in his arms, even as he fell back onto the surface of the bed with you.  “No...” He mumbled, pressing his face into the crook of your neck to stay close to you. Though it was unbearably hot, him holding you close was not as hot as you had been expecting. He pet your head gently, “Go to sleep, Pumpkin.” He mumbled, already starting to fall asleep himself. You chuckled quietly and you feel him start to fall asleep, his arms still wrapped around you, his breathing slowly calming you and lulling you into slumber.
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binnieboyswhore · 3 years
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SKZ as...
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Stray Kids as my favorite kinks Pairing: Skz x Reader  Genre: smut  Word count: 1,130 Warnings: Choking, bondage, Knives, blood, biting, bruises, wax, and blindfolds. I can’t think of anything else but ya if you feel i should add it please let me know! Authors note: This is my favorite thing I’ve ever written cause I am the center of it all and yes i am an attention whore. I am willing to die on all these hills so please don’t fight me on it 
Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)
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Bang Chan: Erotic Asphyxiation: Choking Do I even have to explain? Between the rings and watches and that mans beautiful ass hands? Fairy Tales are written about those hands. Anyway, back to them being wrapped around your throat. He loves having them on there whether he’s railing you, making out with you or even chilling with the boys. He loves having you seated between his legs, your back on his chest while his hand rests on your collar bone. It’s strangely calming to both of you to know you’re just a grip away
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Minho:  Merinthophilia: tying someone up This boy loves his ropes and I am prepared to die on this hill. He loves tying you up whether it’s just your hands to the headboard using his belt or taking the time to learn new knots and designs. He has every color of rope so it can match any occasion, even pastel colors for a pretty easter fuck. He is in love with the pained look in your eyes when you really want to touch him and you can’t. He also loves how pretty you look all tangled in his ropes. He even learns a heart knot for you on valentines day, constantly grabbing ahold of it while fucking you. He thinks you’re so pretty tied up he often takes pictures of you before he absolutely wrecks you.
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Changbin: Dressing up: Bunny One word. Bunny. Bunnies make this man's head go brrr. When he comes into your shared bedroom after a long day at work and sees those ears on you, one bent as if it were winking at him makes him go crazy. The white lace tight around your body leaves nothing to the imagination, he can’t help but drop his jaw. Once he gathers himself he asks you, “So, bunny do you have the rest of it?” You turn to show off your cotton tailed butt plug and this man loses it. He is ready to tear you apart like a wolf who found dinner after three days of hunting. It’s a guarantee you won’t be walking tomorrow.
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Hyunjin: RACK: knife play This man would be one of the few I trust enough to do this. He would love dragging the blade all over your body watching goosebumps rise up. Occasionally digging the blade in your flesh but not with enough force to break skin just enough to hear your little whimpers. On occasion you allow him to cut you, not deep enough to scar but enough to draw blood and he goes bonkers when you allow this. He’ll cut you along the top of your thigh and watch the blood trickle down a bit before flattening his tongue on you, licking it up and suckling on the wound. You let a moan out at the mixture of the cold blade, the burning wound and his wet tongue. He’ll insert the handle of the blade in you, watching you as you rut your hips along it. He’d roll his eyes from watching how much pleasure you’re receiving from this and he hasn’t even touched you yet.
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Jisung: Odaxelagnia: Biting Whether it’s to extract a dirty ass moan from you or muffle his own this man loves to bite. He loves leaving his mark on you anywhere you allow. He loves little nips at your back or big bites on your ass and thigh. There were a few times he’d accidently bite you so hard he’d draw blood. He couldn’t tell you how sorry he was that he did that, leaving little kisses around it but the devil in his brain reminded him this one would take longer to heal and knowing that his teeth were indented into your skin covered in a brown and purple bruise excited him so much. During the healing process you could expect quickies any and everywhere, in closets of music video sets to bathroom stalls at restaurants. Anytime he got a glimpse of it, it just wound him right back up.
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Felix: Temperature Play: wax Felix is an absolute S L U T for wax play. He loves to cuff/tie your hands to the bed frame and watch your chest heave up and down in anticipation for the hot wax. He’ll light multiple different colored candles too so your chest is an “absolute work of art” Felix always liked to say. He’ll start by dropping wax right between your breast watching it slowly fall through the valley and come to a droplet. He repeats this process in different colors watching your chest rise and fall in pain but enjoyable pain. He takes a candle dripping wax over your sensitive nipples letting a moan out he’ll look at you, “Are you still okay?” he lifts the candle so no more wax is falling on you. “Fuck felix please don’t stop.” You moan out causing his member to get extra hard. He’ll get a crazy look in his eye and smirk at you. You knew you were in for a good fuck when he took his phone off the bed side table to capture his work before destroying your body in every way he could.
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Seungmin: Dominance: Sir There is nothing Seungmin loves more than when you refer to him as “Sir”. It could be in a sarcastic way or a sexual way but no matter it always resulted with you bent over the nearest object taking him pounding into you. He loved nothing more than hearing you scream “Yes sir.” when he asked if you felt good. The thought alone could make him combust. He would even often record you screaming it just so he has plenty of octave options to jack off to on tour or if work has gotten real stressful. He’s still trying to talk chan into using one as a background sound on the album. He has yet to sway him considering he refuses to let chan listen to him cause “those moans are mine”.
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IN: Amaurophilia: blindfolds He hasn’t decided what he likes more, using the blindfold on him or on you. (It’s definitely you) He loves the way the silk band feels as he ties it behind your head making sure not to get your hair caught in it. He loves that now you’re having to rely on your other senses and on him to know what he’s doing so he likes to fuck with you a bit like breath on your neck then pinch the inside of your thigh, eating up every little yelp and moan you let out. He constantly teases you before entering, he’ll drag his dick up and down your folds relentlessly till you reach out your hand making an attempt to grab a hold of his arm.
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Note
Hi!! May I have a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and strawberry drizzle for Diluc please?
Hey there! Thank you so much for your request and your patience. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go with this one and I also had to deal with writer's block while working on this, so I really hope it still came out somewhat okay. Anyways, here's your drink: a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and some strawberry drizzle on top! <3
Prompts: angst, character A taking care of character B when they’re sick, “You’re so warm.” + “You’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.” (400 followers event: JJ's coffee shop)
Fever – Diluc x gn!reader
Dragonspine was beautiful at this time of the day. The snow glistened in the golden light of the rising sun and the sky was painted in the most gorgeous shades of orange, red and light blue as the stars and the moon slowly faded until, in a couple of hours, the approaching night would bring them out again.
You craned our neck, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of Mondstadt’s cathedral, its stony façade almost glowing in the sunrise. It was a breathtaking sight, and for a few moments, you just stood there and gazed at the town you had grown to love so much that you couldn’t imagine living somewhere else.
The only thing you’d probably never get used to was that damn cold on Dragonspine. Your breath was pluming in the frosty air, and your fingertips already started to feel numb, although you had picked the warmest gloves you owned when you got dressed for your mission.
It wasn’t unusual that the Knights sent someone to Dragonspine to collect their Chief Alchemist’s newest research date, so you came here quite often and knew what expected you but today was the first time that none of the other knights accompanied you. They were all busy with other commissions and while Jean had asked you to postpone your trip, you had insisted to go today. The data was important; the local alchemists needed them as soon as possible, and you really weren’t known for being unreliable. The only problem you had encountered was that no one was allowed to go to Dragonspine alone. The mountain was too dangerous and unpredictable to explore it on one’s own, so Jean had told you that she’d only allow you to go if you found someone to come with you.
With a barely noticeable smile you glanced at the man by your side, his flaming red hair even brighter against the pale, snowy background. It was rare that Diluc agreed to officially help the Knights with their matters but you knew that he could hardly deny you anything – which was probably the only reason why he was here with you now. Maybe he also didn’t want you to go to Dragonspine completely alone but in the end, you didn’t care much about his reasons. All that mattered was that you could collect Albedo’s data without further delays.
“Ready?”
Diluc gazed back at you. “Yes. Let’s get this done.”
In silence, the two of you made your way uphill. You pulled your scarf up higher to keep the lower half of your face warm but against the harsh, cold wind that steadily grew stronger, the fabric didn’t help much. A few minutes on this damn mountain and you were already starting to shiver. No wonder that most people avoided Dragonspine like the plague.
You hunched your shoulders as another gust of freezing cold wind hit you. With a deep sigh, you said, “I don’t understand why Albedo couldn’t have picked a warmer place for his research. I mean, yeah, the landscape is really pretty and I bet there are a lot of things to discover up here but it’s so freaking cold. I really don’t know how he hasn’t frozen to death yet.”
“Don’t ask me,” Diluc replied, watching you from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that you were cold, not just from the way you tried to adjust your scarf to cover more of your face. Your whole posture told him that the cold gave you a hard time today – a lot more than it did usually.
With a frown, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,” he said and took off his coat in one swift movement, handing it to you without any hesitation. “You’re shivering,” he explained when you gave him a questioning look. “Here, take my jacket. I don’t want you to get sick.”
You stared at his coat. “Are you sure?”
Diluc shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” A faint smile flashed over his face as you raised your eyebrows and gave him another skeptical look. “Just take it, okay?”
“Thank you,” you mumbled while you slipped on his coat over your own jacket, indulging in his comforting scent that surrounded you immediately and the warmth of the soft fabric. You reached out for his hand, both to thank him once again and to drag him along. “We should hurry to get to Albedo’s base camp. It’s too cold to wander around without a coat – even for you.”
*
Exactly four days later, you knew that it had been a mistake to accept Diluc’s offer. His forehead was covered in cold sweat and he was shivering, despite the pile of blankets you had put over his body to keep him warm. Incoherent mumbles escaped his slightly parted, chapped lips as he tossed and turned in his sleep, suffering from yet another fever dream. It pained you to see him like this, very well aware that it was your fault that he was sick. If you hadn’t taken his jacket, he wouldn’t be in this condition right now.
Barbara had checked on him a couple of hours ago, warning you that it might get worse before he was going to feel better. “His fever is pretty high,” she had said, her hand resting on his forehead. “I can send you some herbs that will help to lower his temperature but other than that, all we can do is wait. But please don’t worry, (Y/N), he will be fine.”
You knew that she was right. After all, Barbara knew exactly what she was talking about when it came to injuries and illnesses, and the medical tea you had prepared following her instructions would surely help him, but still, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. His skin was even paler than usual and even the color of his hair seemed to be duller than normally. He looked absolutely terrible and he probably felt even worse.
“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled and leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Beneath your fingertips, his skin felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, and you reached out for the damp cloth on the nightstand to gently dab away the sweat on his forehead. “This is all my fault.”
He mumbled something in his sleep again, a painful reminder that he’d contradict you if he were awake, insisting that the only reason for his condition was his own stupidity. And of course, you’d disagree until the conversation resulted in playful bickering.
But he wasn’t awake. And all you could think of was how much it sucked that you could do nothing to make him feel better.
*
A couple of hours later, Diluc finally woke up from his confusing dreams. He still felt like absolute trash, you could see it in his eyes, but somehow, he managed to crack a smile when he spotted you curled up in an armchair right next to the bed.
“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy, but it still made a wave of relief wash over you to hear him talk. “Hey yourself,” you replied and closed the book you had been reading half-heartedly over the past few hours before leaning in to put your hand on his forehead. His temperature was still too high but at least, he was awake now. “You’re so warm… How are you feeling?”
With a quiet groan, Diluc closed his eyes again. “Horrible.”
“Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water?”
“No… I think I just want to go back to sleep.”
“Oh. Okay.” Somehow, a part of you had hoped that he would magically feel better as soon as he woke up but of course that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. A cold as severe as his couldn’t be cured by a few hours of restless sleep, so it was completely normal that his body screamed for more resting time. “Do you want me to leave?”
He shook his head.
“Okay,” you repeated. “I’ll stay.”
“Come here,” he mumbled, shifting a bit to make some room for you in the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold.”
With an indignant huff, you climbed into the bed, draping your arm over the blankets in an attempt to hug him before craning your neck to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Get some rest,” you told him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging. I'd really appreciate the support. <3
Taglist: @blissmal, @aimicoos, @childe-support, @rim0na,@the-gayest-sky-kid
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andreafmn · 3 years
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I’m Not Afraid - Chapter 4
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Word Count: 3,616
Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore
Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.
*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.
Chapter: 4/?
A/N: If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.
Follow Me!
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Chapter 4
After the eventful day yesterday, I could say that today was extremely boring. For some unknown reason, Stiles and Jackson had not shown up to school. But, after what happened I would have missed too, but I left my bike here and I needed to get it back. I wasn’t planning on staying longer than needed. Once the day was over and the clock hit three, I sped off to my house. I was still tired from yesterday and all I wanted to do was take a big long nap. My body felt heavy, and my head hurt like hell. 
But once I got home, I knew that I wouldn't be sleeping like I wanted to.
"What are you doing here, Derek?" I asked as I took off my helmet.
"We need to talk."
"No, we don't. There's nothing to talk about."
"(Y/N), please. You have been avoiding me for almost two weeks now. I need to know why." He sounded desperate. 
"And I want to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop. Guess we won't be getting any answers today." I tried to walk to the door, but he grabbed my arm. "Let. Me. Go."
"Please, just talk to me. Give me a reason." His stare burned a hole in me. "Please."
"Seriously, Derek. Just leave me alone." He finally let me go, my arm feeling cold missing his touch.
"I won't stop until you talk to me and explain."
"Then get comfortable, sour wolf, you'll be waiting a long time." I entered the house and locked the door, finally letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I changed into comfortable clothing and started cleaning the house. My parents would be here tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure the house was spotless. Truly, I just needed something to take my mind off Derek. Why did he make me feel this way? Yesterday the only thing I was wondering was why HE was there. And I didn't want to think that way. I didn't want to care about him. Not now, not ever.
After I finished cleaning, I found myself with nothing to do, so I ran upstairs and took a shower. I tried to take all the time in the world but there wasn't enough. I got out and went to bed thinking of the events of yesterday.
I was running through the forest and I felt someone chasing me. No matter how fast I ran, the creature ran faster. Before I knew it my body had collided with the floor and towering above me was the thing that had screeched last night. It looked lost, like it needed to find his purpose. His slit eyes stared down onto mine and his sharp teeth expelled a sort of saliva that trickled down to my face. His tail was moving up and down my legs teasing a cut. I wanted to move but I knew if I did it would try to kill me, so I stayed put. I closed my eyes and awaited what would happen but instead of death, a roar sounded. Startled, the creature screeched, and I screamed back.
I woke up screaming and sweating just 5 minutes before my alarm would make a sound. I got out of my bed and went to take a shower to relieve me from the dream I just had. It sounded just like the screech from two nights ago. My body felt cold, and I had goosebumps everywhere. To calm my nerves, I put the water in a hot temperature and let it ease my muscles and relax my body. I would have maybe called Isaac but, after knowing he's somewhat involved with whatever is going on and him being a douchebag the last few days, I didn't even bother looking up his contact. Maybe it was for the best. After the year ended I could cut ties without any remorse.
Once I was done with my shower I changed into comfortable clothes once again and ran down the stairs. For more than an hour I was enjoying a horror movie on TV when I heard the doorknob rattle.
"Mom! Dad!" I ran and jumped on both.
"Hey, munchkin." My dad ruffled my hair and hugged me.
"Hey, darling. How did your week go?" My mom asked. How could I explain to her something I didn't know?
"Pretty uneventful. Just hanging out around the house, organizing my room and stuff. But, enough about me. Come in, settle down, tell me about your week."
"Honey, why don't you go sit down, we need to talk about something." I looked at my mom weirdly and went to the kitchen to sit down.
"What's going on?" I looked at my parents who were fixing up dinner.
"Munchkin, you know how each year we have to move due to my business. Well, this year is gonna be different."
"We're not moving. Dad, you've said that before. How do I know you're not lying again?"
"We took this week kind of on a trial basis. You’re getting older and can handle bigger responsibilities like taking care of yourself and the house by yourself. So, it seems that we can be away for elongated periods of time and you’ll be just fine. And in any case, your uncle is here to take care of you."
"We will be living here in Beacon Hills and any business that needs to be taken care of we will just leave town for a few days. Are you okay with that?" My mother smiled. 
"Okay?! I'm beyond okay!" I jumped up from the stool and hugged my parents. "This is the best news ever!"
"That's great, honey. Now go do something while I start dinner."
When my parents told me the news that we were staying the first person that came to mind was Derek.
I had been avoiding him for such a long time and he did deserve some answers and maybe I could get some from him about what was going on in this freak show of a town. I decided to text him and told him to meet me at his house in the woods. I awaited his answer and rode my bike down the now familiar trail. And just as he had said, there he was, waiting on the front steps of the house.
"Hey, Derek," I said softly. It was hard to swallow my pride after the way I had been acting. 
"Hey, (Y/N). Are you finally ready to talk?" He said in a calm and soothing voice. Absolutely the opposite of what I was expecting. I nodded my head and sat down next to him. "So, why have you been avoiding me? Is it something I did?"
"No. I just had to."
"You had to?"
"Look, all my life I have had to pack everything up and leave behind a whole life. Every time the year ends, I need to forget about one life and start another. I have ignored so many people that have only been nice to me because I don't want to grow attached. Cause when I leave, I know I will never see them again and I'd rather be alone than have to pass through that heartache."
"So, once we started growing close you had to cut ties so you could forget about me." I nodded and he let out a sigh. "I get it. But you could've told me."
"Yeah? How? Hey, I'm gonna start to forget you now so I don't have to later. Wouldn't be too sensitive, would it?"
"No, but I would have understood." He looked at me. His eyes held kindness and understandings, things I didn’t deserve for my actions. "But why are you telling me now?"
"My parents told me that we're not leaving this time. We're here for good."
"So that means you'll stop ignoring me?"
"Yes." He smiled and gave me a hug. I hugged him back. "Now that I have given you answers, I need some in return."
"Like?"
"What the hell happened on Thursday?"
"Oh. That." He paused for a second and groaned, but I motioned him to answer me. "Of course. But what I tell you right now must stay between us, and you must give me your word that no one will know that I was the one who told you. Not Scott or Allison, not even your parents."
"Is it that important?"
"Absolutely. Look what's happening here, it's not normal nor human."
"What are you talking about, Derek?" I chuckled.
"Everything around you are not what it seems. There's just no easy way to say this."
"Derek, ballpark it."
"I'm a werewolf, an alpha. And so is Scott, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, they're betas. Your family, including Allison, are hunters. They kill people like me and the others. That screech you heard yesterday, it came from a Kanima. A walking snake-like creature that kills people, murderers exactly, after paralyzing them with a type of venom it creates." He looked into my eyes trying to search for something. An answer, a sign, anything. It just wasn't there. "(Y/N), please. Say something."
I tried to speak up, but nothing came out. Maybe it was the shock, maybe I wasn't ready to hear this, maybe I didn't want to know that everyone around me was different. Out of this world, sort to speak.  Everything was changing and I couldn't do anything about it. I saw Stiles' jeep coming closer. Out of it came Scott, Allison, and, obviously, Stiles. I got up from the steps, ignoring their calls and Derek calling my name.
"Where are you going, (Y/N)?"
"Home." I turned on the motorcycle and tried to leave but I couldn't. I was frozen, listening to their conversation.
Derek's POV "What's happening?" Stiles asked.
"She's leaving, dimwit. Don't you have eyes?"
"Why would she leave like that?" Allison questioned and directed her sight to me. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. We were just talking."
"What exactly where you guys talking about?" Scott asked.
"Everything."
"As in." I stared at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, everything."
"Derek, why the hell would you do that?! It was not in your place to tell her about that." 
"Oh, like you would have told her anything. Just like you're telling Lydia. She came to me for answers, and I gave them to her."
"That is none of your business."
"I was not going to continue to lie to her. You do whatever the hell you want but I couldn't go on like that."
"Honestly, Derek. What is your problem?! She's nothing to you so I don't understand why you had to bring her into this twisted world." Allison screamed.
"You know why she has to know. I accept that it's not my place, but I knew you wouldn't say anything and, also, I didn't bring her into this. Your bloodline did. Don't pin this on me." Allison starts fuming and closing the gap between us but stops dead in her tracks when she heard the same thing all of us heard. (Y/N) falling off her bike.
"(Y/N)!!" I ran towards her and picked her up.
"Don't touch her!" Allison screamed.
"You can't tell me what to do." I bumped our shoulders and headed towards the house. "But if you wanna help out you can follow me."
Fuming, Allison followed me into the living room with the trail of puppies on her back. She helped me gently lay down (Y/N) on the couch whilst Scott found some gauze and alcohol for a scratch on her face and hopefully what would wake her.
After cleaning the wound, I held a gauze dripping with alcohol under her nose, but nothing happened.
"This is what I wanted to avoid. She seems so strong, but she is so fragile too. I wanted her to find this all out through her parents. Not some stranger she just met." Allison spoke to Scott.
"I think you underestimate the strength she has. And trust me, I am no stranger to her." I spat at her. "At least I was the only one brave enough to give her the answers she was seeking."
"Derek, honestly I could give two shits about what you think right now. It's your fault she fainted. Again, you had no fucking right."
"Look, Allison, I get it. You don't want her in this world because she's better than you. I get it." I smirked at her and she lunged at me. Scott held her back but I wanted the reaction. I was completely fuming, (Y/N) deserved better than lies. 
As she struggled, Stiles’s words brought us back from the fight. 
"Guys, she's waking up."
I directed my gaze again to (Y/N) and noticed her eyes fluttering open. "See, she's fine."
"But she wasn't."
"Well, she is now." I gritted my teeth.
(Y/N)'s POV
"Um, guys, yeah. I'm still here stop talking about me as if I were gone."
"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" Allison asked as if I had hurt myself.
"I'm fine. My body is functioning normally, my legs are moving one after the other, my lips are opening and closing, and my tongue is moving, and my arms are flailing. I'm super."
"Take it easy, (Y/N). You just found out a lot of stuff." Scott said.
"Yeah, you two are werewolves." I pointed at him and at Derek, then at Allison. "And you, along with our family, a hunter." I looked at Stiles. "And you're human, like me."
"And?" Derek asked in a harsh tone as if trying to keep up the mean façade he had. It made me angry, but the worry was evident in his eyes.
"It's fine. It's weird but fine." This time I did get on my motorcycle and started it.
"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Stiles tried to stop me midway.
"Um, as I said before, home."
"You can't drive in this state, especially in a motorcycle. You could crash!"
"Allison, I have never in my life of driving crashed a motorcycle whereas cars, enough to start a small dealership, and some of them weren't even mine. I think I'm good." As I tried to leave, once again I was stopped. This time by Derek.
"I'll take you home."
"Um, you've done enough. I'll take her home." Allison stepped in. They got in each other's faces and I had to step in between them.
"Mom, dad. Stop. I hate when you fight." I snorted. "Sorry, but I'll take myself home."
Before any of them could answer I got on my motorcycle and sped off the same way I came through. When I got home, I was out of breath and dizzy. Everything Derek had said kept replaying in my mind over and over, like an endless loop of unimaginable words that seemed to be part of a dream. The front door of my house seemed so far, and it felt like almost half an hour had passed until I got there. Everything passed by slowly and blurry.
My father called out to me and it felt like I answered but I had no idea what I said. Maybe something in the lines of I'm tired, I'm gonna go to bed. I ascended the stairs one step at a time until I reached the top. It felt like climbing the Great Wall of China, but finally, I made it to my bedroom. Once I entered, I got the scare of my life and everything went back to normal. Derek was in my room.
"What the hell are you doing here, Derek?!" I yelled in a soft whisper.
"I wanted to see if you were really okay. You didn't seem good when you left."
"I'm fine," I said in a cold voice and started looking for my pajamas. He wasn't believing me, and neither was I. "Seriously, Derek. I am."
"You don't seem or sound fine. I heard you when you got here, you were out of breath and you took your time to get up the stairs as if it was the biggest climb of your life." It was evident that he was worried about me but there was nothing to worry about. I may still be in a bit of shock. He just needed to chill. Deep down I knew how scared I was. The world had turned into different stop frames. I could see everything pass me by inch by inch. I had time for everything. I could easily have gone to the other side of the planet and back and not more than a minute could have passed.
I went to the bathroom and changed in hopes that he would leave, even though  I didn’t want him to. He didn't. He looked around my book collection which, I may add, is quite big. My father had some people make a built-in bookcase and desk. It was probably my favorite place in the whole house, the kitchen ended second. Derek had taken one of my favorite books in his hand.
"Pride and Prejudice? Hm, never would have pictured you to read this kind of book."
"There's many things you don't know about me, sour wolf."
"Seriously, you're gonna keep calling me that? Even after you know it's true."
"That makes it more fun." I smiled weakly. "So, werewolf, huh?" He nodded. "And my family is filled with hunters." He nodded again. "And they hunt you."
"(Y/N), if this is too much for you, we can leave you out of it."
"It doesn't matter if you leave me out of it, I'll still be involved. I just don't want anything to change."
"I know. Me either." He said looking down. I walked over to him and hugged him needing some type of warmth. His arms engulfed me, and I felt relieved, completely forgetting how mad I was at him for being a dick not a few hours ago.
"It's just for the first time in my life I thought I cloud have a normal life with my family and new friends. I hoped to settle in a normal town where it's so boring, but you fall in love with the people there and never want to leave. I guess I just wanted normal."
"And I just ruined that." He sighed, his chest rising and falling against my head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't blame yourself. My parents would have brought me into that world soon enough. I think that's why they've had me working out and training for no apparent reason. They were hoping I would join the family business."
"Would you?"
"Huh?" I looked up at him.
"If they asked you to become a hunter, would you?"
"If I hadn't met Isaac, or your pack, or Scott... or you, I probably would have. But I can't be a part of something that hunts innocent creatures just because they believe the whole species is bad." He nodded but stayed quiet.
I went over to my bed in hopes he would stay but he made his way to the window. I don't know what came over me, but I called out to him. "Don't go. Stay, please."
Without another word he turned off the lights and sat next on the chair that was in the corner next to my bed. Finally, I drifted off with the possibility of words flowing from his mouth. 
Derek's POV
"I'll never leave you." I whispered to her as she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. After some time, she started squirming and her heartbeat began to race. I sat next to her, and without waking up, she got closer and snuggled into my chest. I put an arm around her and heard her heartbeat slowly go back to normal. 
At around midnight I heard voices arguing downstairs. I didn't mean to overhear but I couldn't help it.
"You went looking for her again, didn't you, Henry?"
"Of course, I did. I'll look for her until the day I die."
"You know you'll never find her. That was the point. You told her to hide, and she did. So much that not even you can find her. I guess she didn't love you enough." She sighed. "And even if you found her, your father would use all his power to kill her."
"At least I loved her more than I'll ever love you, and that's enough for me."
 After that, a long silence. 
Then, a door slammed shut. 
Moments after I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.I tried my best to move in case they decided to check in with her, but (Y/N)’s grip on me only tightened. I had no escape other than to brace myself for whatever could happen. 
My heart started to race faster and faster as the steps became closer to the room. 
Step.
Step.
Step.
Her mother was right outside her door, probably debating waking her daughter up to wish her a good night. My breath hitched in my throat when the door handle started to softly turn; the gears in my brain turning, looking for the quickest escape. The door handle had turned completely and I prepared myself to run. But, it was let go. The footsteps receded and ended in the room next to (Y/N)’s. Once I heard her settle in bed I finally relaxed. I curled (Y/N) onto me and wrapped her tight. Something in me just wanted to protect her and let her know she’s not alone. I hadn’t felt this way in a long time and for the first time I wanted to see where it could lead.
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