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steddiealltheway · 3 months

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"I want you," Steve says, staring deeply into Eddie's eyes, watching several emotions flitter through them before stepping back and gesturing to him expectantly.

Eddie swallows hard and takes a deep breath before looking at the ground and mumbling, "I want you."

Steve sighs and hits his arm. "You have to speak up and make direct eye contact. Come on, try again." Eddie groans loudly and rubs his hands over his face. Steve laughs, "You said you wanted my help sounding sexy or whatever for Hellfire."

Eddie huffs and corrects him, "I don't want Jeff and Gareth making fun of me again when I'm acting out a talented seductress."

Steve raises his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips. "Then, try it again. Picture someone you actually want, and pretend you're talking to them. Don't think about the Hellfire guys. Just think about that person."

Steve watches as Eddie takes a moment to stare at him before dropping his gaze to the ground. He huffs out a humorless laugh and shakes his head before collecting himself and slowly sauntering up to Steve. Eddie looks up at him through his lashes and lowly, very convincingly says, "I want you."

Goosebumps make their way down Steve's arms and his heart starts practically beating out of his chest. He can't help it as his eyes dip down to Eddie's lips, taking in how soft and pink they look. His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry lips, and he has the intense urge to lean in and close the distance between them.

Instead, Eddie takes a step back, and Steve finally looks up at his eyes, seeing a multitude of emotions once again. Neither of them says a word as they stare at each other, a tense silence filling the space between the two of them as Steve takes the moment to process what the hell just happened.

Eddie clears his throat and quietly asks, "Was that... good?"

Right. That's what they were doing. Steve nods and runs a hand through his hair. "Ye-yeah. That was... that was great." He settles his hands on his hips again and nods with a tight expression on his face.

"So... should we continue?"

Steve shrugs and decides to simultaneously torture and confuse himself. "Yeah. We have to see if that strategy works with more phrases, right?"

"Right," Eddie says sounding as hesitant as Steve feels.

"Okay," Steve says with a clap and ignores the way Eddie jumps at the abrupt noise. He juts out his hip and crosses his arms. "So what are some of the other things you'll have to say?"

Eddie's brows furrow and his tongue sticks out momentarily, thoroughly distracting Steve before he asks, "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Steve's eyebrows and pulse shoot up at record speed. "Sorry?"

"It's... one of the phrases," Eddie says, staring at Steve with concern. "Are you sure you want to keep helping me?"

"Yeah," Steve answers a little too quickly and continues, "Okay, try that one again. Really have fun with it this time. Less like you're telling me- I mean, them, and more like you know a secret of theirs."

Eddie nods. "Less accusatory, more flirtatious. Got it," he says with a wink, a small smile appearing on his face showing off his cute dimples. He reaches up into his hair and twirls a strand of hair around one of his fingers as he asks, "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Without thinking, Steve blurts out, "Yes."

Eddie's whole flirty act drops. "What?"

"Yes!" Steve says with a weird overabundance of energy that usually only Eddie contains. "That was it! Yes as in, you got it. That was perfect. Next line," Steve rambles out, trying to distract Eddie from his own reaction.

"Why don't you come closer, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, not even pausing to get into character as he just slips into the flirtatious persona effortlessly.

Steve turns away and runs a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ," he mutters because yes he wants to come closer and-

"Hmm?"

"I said, 'Do another,'" Steve lies.

"While you're not facing me?"

Steve nods. "Need to hear if it's convincing when I can't see you." That's definitely a good lie.

He hears Eddie take a deep breath behind him. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and finds himself yearning for the phrases to be truthfully directed at him. He tries not to give himself away as he asks, "Isn't D and D interactive? Like you'll have people responding to you?"

Eddie hums in confirmation behind him, and Steve finally turns around, catching a glimpse of fear before Eddie's face goes carefully blank.

"Should we practice that?" Steve asks, truly torturing himself.

Eddie stares at him for a moment and nods. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally commits to asking, "What's someone like you doing here, pretty boy?"

Steve's heart flutters in his chest at the nickname but sinks when he reminds himself that it's not real. "I'm not sure."

"Really?" Eddie asks and steps closer to him, smiling teasingly. "Because I think we both know why you're here."

Steve swallows heavily.

"Why don't you follow me, and I can help you figure it out," Eddie suggests innocently, but there's an edge of something in his voice.

"Okay," Steve answers weakly, completely forgetting how he got here.

Eddie smiles wickedly and grabs his hand, tugging him to the couch and guiding him to sit back. Steve's breath catches when Eddie leans over him and whispers, "Did you come here with anyone else?"

Slightly confused, Steve answers, "No?"

"Good," Eddie says as he straddles him and tilts Steve's head up in a way that has Steve nearly groaning. Eddie leans forward, breath ghosting over Steve's lips as he whispers, "And this is when I kill you."

Steve frowns as Eddie's hand lightly comes down to the top of his chest, clenched in a fist as if holding something. It takes him a few seconds before Steve finally gets what's happening and asks, "This was all a trap?"

"She's not a good character," Eddie states, still hovering mere inches away.

"I agree," Steve says and tilts his head slightly. "She should at least kiss them first. Give them what they want before they die."

"Won't they regret the last thing they ever did was kissing her?"

"Never," Steve states.

Eddie's chest rises and falls noticeably quicker than before. "Even after she betrays them?"

"Never," Steve insists, staring intently into Eddie's eyes, leaning ever so slightly closer.

Something between them breaks, and Eddie's hands fly into Steve's hair, tugging him close as Steve's lips meet his rushed and hungry. Eddie pushes back with the same passion, feeding on the tension that settled between them before.

Steve lingers in the kiss for as long as he can until Eddie pulls away and lightly hits his chest. "Regret it?" he pants against his mouth.

"Never," Steve answers honestly, moving forward to kiss him again.

Days later, when the seductress is reintroduced in the campaign, all the Hellfire guys shift uncomfortably in their seats and beg Eddie to never talk to them the same way he talks to Steve.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

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holymusicalmothman · 7 months

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I Can See You - Live Action!Sanji x Reader

Saw a post about wanting a fic with Sanji and this song that @its-a-show-stoppin-number posted and I knew I wasn't gonna get anything done until I wrote this. I've never written anything like this before to be honest. I kinda word vomited in a sense. The story just exited my fingers and here it is.

Warnings: Suggestive, kissing, secret relationship, nothing explicit, only implied, objectification of Taz Skylar's jawline, like. Why’s it so fine. Like. Dear lord.

No use of y/n, or those weird descriptor things, reader is gender neutral. Reader is however you imagine them

Word Count: 1.5K

Main Masterlist

It wasn’t something you had seen coming. It wasn’t like you, to be honest.

But he was just so damn charming. How were you supposed to resist?

Sanji hadn’t been part of the crew for long. A few weeks at most. But you had been watching him from the moment the crew walked into the Baratie.

Tall. Strong. Nicely dressed. Polite. Respectful. Suave. Not to mention good looking. That jawline–in your defense, you HAD tried to ignore the blatant attraction.

Fleeting glances for almost a week, brushing past each other in the ship’s hallways. Fantasies filling your head. One specific dream of exchanging heated kisses in a dark corner had your mind racing whenever you were in the same room as the chef.

It was impossible to function properly.

Your job aboard the Going Merry was to document the events that occurred. Luffy thought it would be perfect to write down all of the adventures that would eventually lead to him becoming King of the Pirates.

And writing anything was impossible.

Blond hair and grey blue eyes kept your mind far too distracted.

So you decided to do something about it.

Especially since you had caught his eyes on you repeatedly throughout dinner.

So you took your time eating. A phrase which here means wasting your time until Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, and Nami had vacated the kitchen for the evening. Leaving you alone with Sanji.

As he stood to clear the dishes, your hand shot out, grabbing his sleeve and stopping him in his tracks.

You looked up into his eyes, your own wide with adrenaline.

"Please tell me it's not all in my head." You said softly. "If it is, I promise, it'll be like this never happened."

"And if I say it's not all in your head?" He murmured the words, the tension so thick someone could have cut it with a knife.

"Then I'd ask if you'd worry what the others thought. I'm not sure if relationships between crewmembers are allowed here. They weren't on my last crew. And I'm not too keen on asking Luffy if I'm entirely honest." You took a deep breath. "But I can't get you out of my head. It's like I'm addicted."

Sanji moved to rest his hands on either side of your chair, effectively caging you in. "So more like a secret mission. Just the two of us." He bit his lip and watched your eyes zero in on the action, a smirk spreading on his face instead.

You nodded, knowing you were in too deep to back out now.

Sanji continued, despite the fact that his eyes flicked down to your lips every few moments. "Everything professional, except when it's just the two of us."

You nodded again, your heart racing and palms sweating as the object of your desire leaned forward a little more, waiting for you to reach across that last gap separating the two of you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as that gap closed.

As your lips careened into the chef's, he exhaled heavily through his nose, pulling you up to stand and then closer so you were pressed to his chest, your hands flying to tangle in his hair.

The world around the two of you was a blur as you lost yourselves in each other. Clothes were shoved unceremoniously to the floor as you each tried to pull the other closer. You barely registered Sanji lifting you to sit on the kitchen counter, much less registering when the two of you had even moved from the table to the counter.

"You sure you want me sitting here?" You asked breathlessly, your newfound lover placing kisses down the length of your throat.

His laugh was husky against your throat. "It's a kitchen, darling. All the best meals happen in a kitchen."

That moment was the first of many. You had never regretted sharing a room with Nami more. While there were many kitchen escapades after that first one, the two of you still found a little thrill in having your secret.

You spent time talking as well. You learned about each other. Likes and dislikes, pasts, dreams of the future. Sanji told you about his childhood with Zeff and his quest for the All Blue. You told him of your dream to be a famous poet one day and of your life on the sea.

Something changed along those talking sessions. Something you liked. You wouldn’t call it a friends with benefits situation. You both knew it was something else, something deeper.

Those words were just waiting to be said.

You two would lock eyes at random moments throughout the days and his eyebrow would quirk and you'd look away.

Nights would be spent with each other, sometimes words weren’t even exchanged.

It was bliss.

One afternoon caught the two of you on the lower decks, encased by shadows. You had originally been working on writing down events in the logbook, but your lover had sought you out.

Sanji had you caged up against the wall, kissing you with a fervor. As if you were the last meal he'd ever receive.

He always kissed you like a starving man.

However, you heard Usopp's voice getting closer to your hiding spot, calling for Sanji, and the two of you quickly separated and righted yourselves.

He winked at you as you adjusted your skewed shirt. "You'll tell me more about how that dream of yours went later, right, darling?"

You smirked. "You wouldn't believe half the things I see inside my head."

Sanji grinned, unable to resist capturing your lips in another kiss before slowly pulling away and heading down the hallway.

Nami cornered you later that day.

"You've been hard to find lately." She stated.

You shrugged. "I've been hiding away trying to find a quiet place to work on the log." This was the go to excuse.

And Nami wasn't buying it. "It's been hard to find Sanji too."

Your eyes met her brown ones in questioning silence.

"I knew it." She muttered. "Sanji left his jacket on the floor in the hallway the other night. You do know we're not like other pirates, right? Nobody's gonna care if you two get together. 'Sides, pretty sure the only ones who haven't figured it out are Luffy and Usopp. But that's just a matter of time."

You were flabbergasted. "How in the--"

"You guys aren't very sneaky. Zorro found you two the other day. Plus the jacket."

Of course Zorro would find out first. But knowing that a relationship would be fine was also a relief to hear.

You had just finished telling Nami about your's and the chef's so-called "secret mission" when Sanji brought lunch around a few minutes later. When he got to you, he handed you your food and your logbook. "You left this in the kitchen." And with a wink he walked away.

"He's not even subtle about it." Nami stated.

You laughed. Sanji hadn't been subtle from the moment you met him at the Baratie. He had only stopped calling you 'madame' because you told him it made you feel old.

He had immediately switched to darling, being far too suave and charming for his own good.

You opened up your logbook. It had gotten easier to get back to your job lately. Apparently the dark hallway meetings and late night rendezvous worked perfectly in helping your focus.

You immediately noticed his note.

"Meet me tonight"

You snapped the notebook shut, grinning like a schoolgirl,and Nami only rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You two are the weirdest."

It was late when you began to make your way to the kitchen that night.

He must have been impatient, because you found him waiting down the hallway, still dressed in his suit and necktie.

You never knew blue could feel like fire, but his eyes were smoldering as they met yours. He had you up against the wall in moments, his lips on your own.

He never did anything halfway, it was all or nothing. That thought crossed your mind as you began to lose yourself in the way he kissed you. In the way it was tender and yet passionate. In the way he caught your lip with his own. In the way he would sort of nudge his jaw forward in little movements. In the way his tongue always seemed to ask permission by gently touching your own lips and leading you into deeper and deeper kisses.

You could drown in this man.

The words slipped out in between kisses before you could stop them.

"I love you."

But he just grinned. A smile so bright, were the sun out it would have felt threatened. Remarkably sweet for the heated exchange that had been occuring only seconds prior.

"I love you, too, darling."

And the heat was back. His hands, which had been holding you gently at your hips, slipped to lift you and press you harder into the wall as the passion returned.

Only to come to a screeching halt as someone cleared their throat.

Luffy stood a few feet away, struggling to mask his shock.

"While I'm happy for the two of you, maybe the hallways are not the best for such...activities?" he said.

You both nodded, mildly embarrassed to have been caught.

As your captain disappeared further down the hallway, a laugh bubbled out of you.

Sanji turned to look at you, bewildered.

Grabbing his hand, you led him away. "You heard our captain, gotta go somewhere other than a hallway."

Understanding spread across his face in the way of a knowing smirk. "I completely understand, darling."

I can see you, waiting down the hall for me, I can see you, up against the wall with me.

I can see you, throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you, make me want you even more

#opla sanji x reader #one piece live action x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece x reader #opla #opla sanji #thismothwrites

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passivenovember · 29 days

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(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red.

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag.

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him?

About his bones and blood.

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black.

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock.

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong.

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies.

If it kills him.

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers.

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington? What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away.

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks.

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this.

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door.

Eddie doesn’t move.

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up.

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him.

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?”

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.

He smells like peaches.

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image.

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

Billy stops. Waits.

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And.

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does.

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now.

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then.

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy.

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

#harringrove #clothes sharing #fluff #love confessions

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jae-bummer · 10 months

Text

The Janitor's Closet

Request: hi, i love everything i've read from you!!! can i request some hyunjin friends to lovers fluff? :) i don't want to give you too many directions to let you work your magic !

Pairing: Stray Kids Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff

"I don't know what I'm late for, but I know that I am," Hyunjin muttered, looking down at his watch.

You glanced up at him as you walked side by side toward one of the practice rooms. When he had asked if you wanted to meet for lunch, you figured he was probably blowing something else off, but you weren't going to decline. Time with your best friend was like gold, and you often got very little of it.

"Dance practice?" you asked. "Studio time?"

"Nooo," he hummed, scrunching his face. "It'll come to me."

"Yeah, once you miss whatever it is," you chuckled, coming to a pause in the hallway. "Thanks for the food today."

Hyunjin stopped as well, checking his phone before turning his attention to you.

"Don't be weird," he laughed, pushing you lightly on the shoulder. "Why are you thanking me?"

You tried not to internalize the small pang that stabbed through your chest at his reaction. Hyunjin always downplayed the little things he did that made you feel special. Going to lunch wasn't just meeting up with a friend. He put you into his schedule, usually picked the restaurant you liked best, and always insisted on paying. He knew what your go-to order was, so he'd pick that just in case you didn't like what you deviated to. It was all more than enough to be thankful for.

If only you could verbalize it without making things awkward.

"I know you don't have a lot of time," you settled on saying. "I appreciate it when you spend it with me."

"Y/N," he smirked, shaking his head. "So sentimental."

He was right. You were sentimental, but he was dismissive only when it came to things he did. If the roles were reversed, he would hold you in reverence. That's just how he operated.

Staring up at the boy you had grown so close to over the years, you tried not to let out a dreamy sigh. While the line separating your friendship from anything more was abundantly clear, you couldn't help but fall a little bit more in love with him on days like today. You had harbored a crush since you had first crossed paths, and that wasn't something that faded as you grew closer. When it was someone like Hyunjin, your feelings were left to their own devices. That meant even when untended, they grew like a weed.

"Shit," Hyunjin hissed, shaking you out of your thoughts. You furrowed your brow as you watched him read over a text. "It was my English lesson."

"Aaaah," you hummed knowingly. "That's what you conveniently forgot."

"Why do I need formal tutoring?" he muttered. "My best friend is fluent."

"You only ever ask me to teach you inappropriate phrases."

"Because they're useful!" he gasped.

"In what?" you grinned. "Perpetuating your death wish when pissing off your members?"

"Just because Lee Know-" he started, but immediately stilled. Like a deer in headlights, he looked past you with wide eyes.

"What?" you asked. Turning to look over your shoulder, you were surprised when he gripped your arm and held you still instead.

"In here," he said quickly, yanking open the door closest to the two of you. Shoving you inside, he quickly crammed his body beside yours in what appeared to be a janitorial closet.

"Hyunjin, what the fu-" you started, but he immediately put a hand over your mouth.

"I swear I just saw him," a familiar voice you recognized as Seungmin's sighed. "He knew we were reviewing our tour speeches today."

Fuck, he mouthed, leaning his head back on the shelves behind him and shutting his eyes.

You were guessing he had forgotten about that part.

An unfamiliar man's voice grumbled beside Seungmin. "Let's just go back. He sent me a copy to review. I can email back over my notes."

Seungmin made a scoffing noise before you heard the two sets of footsteps wander away.

Letting out a sigh, it took Hyunjin a moment before realizing his fingers were still over your mouth. Admittedly, you were too busy being preoccupied by the fact that your bodies were nearly flush against each other to remove it yourself.

"Sorry," he groaned, dropping his hand. "Let's wait this out another five minutes or so and then we can make a run for it."

You licked your lips, trying to process the situation. It was cramped, dark, and smelled vaguely of bleach.

"Or," you said, free to speak again. "You could go to your English lesson."

"I'm doubling down," he said quietly, his expression moody. "I'm already in hiding. I'm not wasting it."

"Wasting it?" you laughed. "Hyunjin, we are crammed together in a closet, breathing in toilet cleaner."

"And here I thought you had a new perfume," he teased, wrinkling his nose.

Rolling your eyes, you opened your mouth to argue again, but were instantly cut off by Hyunjin's gasp. "Something pulled my hair."

Shuffling back and forth in alarm, his body moved even closer to yours, closing what was already a small gap.

"Something?" you muttered, trying to keep your breathing even. You didn't think you had been this physically close to Hyunjin in the entirety of knowing him. "Was it the ghosts of janitor's past?"

"You're not funny!" he whined, patting at the back of his head. "Check with your flashlight, is there a spider back there?"

"I wasn't aware of spiders having hands," you sighed, reaching toward your back pocket to tug out your phone. After a small struggle, you accepted that you would need to lean forward to get to it. Trying to remain calm, you pushed your chest into his and yanked.

"Sorry," you said quietly. Standing on your tiptoes, you flipped on the light and tried to angle your body around his. "I don't see anything."

By the time you realized that Hyunjin had fallen completely silent, your body was already wrapped around his.

"Sorry," you said again, trying to create distance that just didn't exist in the tight space.

"It's-it's okay," he managed, his voice hoarse. "I asked you to check."

"Right," you said quietly, sliding your phone easily into your front pocket instead.

After a few moments of silence, and what seemed like an eternity of analyzing every area your body touched his, Hyunjin finally cleared his throat. "Y/N?"

"Mmm?"

"Have you ever thought about us?"

"Us?" you croaked. "I think about us all the time."

"No," he sighed. "Not in that way."

You remained quiet a moment. Surely, he didn't mean...

"What answer are you looking for, Hyunjin?"

"I don't knooow," he groaned, his hands flying up to cover his face. "You're just so warm and so comfortable. And you smell so much better than toilet cleaner, I promise I was joking."

"I hope you were," you laughed, amazed at the man falling apart in front of you. "What is happening right now?"

"I don't know!" he repeated. "When you were trying to save my life from the sadistic spider lord, a switch flipped somewhere in my head."

"Okay," you said slowly. There was a lot to unpack there.

"I'm touch starved and attracted to you in the worst way," he whispered. "I know I shouldn't think about you like that, but you make it so hard."

"Oh," you said, disbelief coating your tone. "So, this is my fault then?"

"Yes!" he gasped dramatically. His hands fell from his face and revealed a pained expression. "Honestly, you are so hard to resist, you should be ashamed of yourself."

You let out a choked laugh of surprise. Was it possible that Hyunjin, who you had known for countless years at this point, actually had similar feelings for you that you had for him?

"You suck at confessing," you muttered, shaking your head. You couldn't believe that simply verbalizing his emotions was causing his head to nearly explode.

"I suck at a lot of things!" he said, seeming to be more frustrated with himself than anyone in the situation. "But I don't want to suck at being a boyfriend, which is why I've never said anything, and now my big dumb face has no control because I'm locked in like a six-by-six cupboard with you and literally you are all I can think about."

"Hyunjin," you laughed. "I like you too."

"Don't play with my feelings, Y/N," he croaked. "I'm fragile."

"I know this," you sighed, reaching up to cradle his cheek with your palm. "Who do you think has been protecting you all of this time?"

"Who says I need protecting?" he muttered.

"You," you grinned.

"Okay, maybe, but are you serious? Do you really feel the same way?" he said, his expression achingly hopeful.

"Of course, I do," you said quietly, pulling yourself to your toes. Kissing him softly on the tip of his nose, you smiled. "How can anyone who knows you not fall in love with you?"

"Love?" he squeaked, his face going from hope to pleasant surprise. A slow smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. "You love me?"

"Well, I-" you struggled. You thought that much had been apparent.

Hyunjin giggled before wrapping his arms around your waist. Pressing his face into your neck, he nuzzled you. "You love me."

"Against my better judgement," you sighed.

Pulling away slightly, Hyunjin's eyes flitted across your face before zeroing in on your lips. "Would now be a bad time to kiss you?"

"You already confessed to me in a janitorial closet," you teased. "What even is a bad time anymore?"

This caused him to laugh before he tilted his head toward yours. Closing your eyes, you braced for what you had always hoped for.

And would continue to hope for.

"Found you!" you heard Seungmin gasp just as the small space was flooded with light.

Blinking up at the intruder, you could only sigh. "Really, Seungmin?"

"He's late for his lesson!" he grumbled, crossing his arms. Looking back and forth between the two of you, his eyebrows rose. "And now I see why."

Without missing a beat, Hyunjin shoved Seungmin roughly in the shoulder, causing him to retreat a few steps. "Five more minutes."

Yanking the door closed again, he nestled you in his arms. "Now, where were we?"

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids #skz #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin friends to lovers #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz fanfic

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stayconnecteed · 4 months

Text

❪⠀🪐.⠀no control⠀𓏔⠀bangchan⠀❫

bangchan is the leader of stray kids. their fundamental part, in charge of the base of their music, the big brother of the bahng's. he has the weight of the world over his shoulders, and he learned to enjoy the feeling. he loves being needed... does he? ⠀★⠀5.2k words

content: smut,, sub chris / dom reader (slightly), soft vanilla sex, praise, biting / hickeys, mentions of chocking, begging, praises. plot,, miscommunication, insecurities, chris learns how to lose control, he's whipped for reader. credits,, mdni banner by @cafekitsune. warnings,, if any under 18 acc interacts with this fic i'll block them. note,, this is my first smut work, please be kind 😭

Bangchan is the leader of Stray Kids. Their fundamental part, the one that looks out for his members and protects them. He is also the producer, in charge of the base of their music, he has the last word in everything related to it, to the group, to their career. The big brother of the Bahng's, with his little siblings in the aussie continent, but still aware of what happens to his family, only a call away from them. He has the weight of the world over his shoulders, and he learned to enjoy the feeling, that warm satisfaction on his chest every time someone came to him, earning his advice, longing for his protection. He loves being needed. That's why he parted from your lips that evening he was going to spend the night at your place for the first time in your relationship, a cute frown on his face, confusion written all over his glassy eyes, when you whispered “Let me make you feel good”.

He became rigid under your body, so you mirrored his actions, leaving his lap, afraid that it was too soon, that you had just fucked up your relationship, that now he was going to make fun of you. But instead you stared at each other, you with remorseful eyes, him biting his lips with nervousness. That was his line, right? That’s what he usually said to those few girls he had been with, he was supposed to be the one whispering it in your ear, making you squirm, not wanting you to make him feel good. As well as in other parts of his life, he had always been the dominant one in the relationship ーand on the bed. Always. Just the thought of letting you take control scared him a bit. So he closed his eyes, sighing, wishing his heart stopped beating so fast, and simply leaned back on the couch, pushing you slightly so that your head was resting on his chest. That was what he was used to, that felt correct.

You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, to unravel it, to get rid of it, and of the unpleasant feeling of panic you felt in your chest, breathing as fast as you could without your boyfriend noticing, and letting him caress your hair, your brow furrowed in concentration to not let the situation get to you, not paying attention to the sounds of the television, which had become background noise. You tried, as much as you could, not to act very weird about it. He probably just needed space, figure things out, maybe he wasn’t ready for that stage of your relationship, he could even think you were clingy if you didn’t stop. So once the movie was over and Chris moved you to stand up, you ended up moving in sync, picking up the used plates over the table, your nervous smile betraying you, and cleaned them up together, but in silence. It wasn't the first time you'd fallen asleep in his company ーyou'd once closed your eyes in Chris's studio, surrounded by his warmth and scent, tucked into his hoodie, and woken up in his car, on your way homeー but it certainly was the first time you'd spent the night together in the same bed. At least, that was how he had phrased it the week before, hinting that something would finally take place between you two.

But he chose to pretend nothing had happened at all, cuddling you in your own bed with his tender hands sliding down your waist, but over the old shirt you wore, as if the mere touch of your soft skin against his could cause him dangerous burns. The both of you were stiff, your body nested against his, his strong arm protectively around you… ーsee? He couldn’t help it. It was in his nature to act that wayー but even if the topic was there, none of you addressed it. Eventually you fell asleep, your body relaxing against his, features softening, and it's then when he realised how tense you had been. He could have assumed it had been because you were stressed that his first night in your apartment had left a bad impression on him, but deep down he knew it was because of how he had reacted to your words. And it killed him to realise that you had been upset because of him.

But he was truly confused. By you, by your smile, and your lips, and your voice, and your body. He was obsessed, too, yet that was nothing new. It was inevitable for the two of you to be absolutely unable to keep your hands to yourselves since you had started dating. Until that awful moment, you had made out ーquite a lot, to be honest. He still could feel you on his lap, your plush thighs caging him to the couch, the soft flesh of your hips velvety under his touch, and your hands tugging expertly the back of his hair. He loved how you tasted, your bright eyes when you looked at him from above, the way your swollen lips curved with satisfaction when you parted slightly to catch a breath. Lately that month you had let him go down on you for the first time, your skin still covered in fading hickeys, your whimpers engraved with fire in his mind, or even begged him to taste him, your hands pinning him to the wall as his sweats fell to the floor, and you had felt so so good around him… But never sex. And he craved it. You craved it. How could neither of you not crave it when you had each other as their partner?

Damn, now that he thought about it, of course you were used to being the one in control in bed. The signs had been there all along and he had failed to see them. He muffled a groan, laying on his back, and stared at the ceiling, although he couldn’t see anything, the room too dark. It was probably over midnight, a time of the day he was very used to watch on the clock of his phone, and his clothes were making him uncomfortable, the fabric of the shirt preventing him from the mobility he was used to, his mind keeping going back to your sleeping figure beside him. He could only think about the disappointed face you had made when he had turned away, the way you had flinched slightly when he had put his hand on your shoulder to gently hug you against him when he had decided to ignore what had happened. The sudden urge to make it better, to do as you said, to… be taken care of? Why was he… was he really giving it a thought? Could he really be the pillow princess he had made of all his past hook ups? Just laying there and letting you do all the job?

He trusted you, he knew he wouldn't regret it if that did happen, but… it wasn't in him to do nothing. He knew he was going to feel useless. He was a people pleaser, after all, and much more with his loved ones. With you… He had had those dreams, waking up in the middle of the night, early in the morning, about him doing sinful things to you. He had already felt horrible ーthinking about you that way without your permissionー but you were his girlfriend, and he craved those situations. What he hadn’t figured out was if he should, huh, let you know. Well, he should have, that was for sure. But he hadn’t, and now he was afraid. Afraid of scaring you away, he supposed, especially because in his dreams he let his imagination run wild, and his subconscious was quite possessive. He wondered about whom now, given the circumstances, him over you… or you over him?

He cleared his throat, trying to delete those new fantasies of his mind, and closed his eyes, frowning until he started to lose consciousness, clearly disturbed about the way you had invaded his thoughts. Not only because he needed to rest enough before the next day, but also because he felt he owed you something ーan apology, maybe? Make up for the trouble? He couldn’t keep thinking about it, he didn’t want to, his insecurities creating a void on his chest, but with your soft breathing lulling him, and his eyelids suddenly feeling so heavy, he fell asleep in no time.

When you opened your eyes the following morning, Chris was nowhere to be seen. You sighed, stretching your back while occupying the whole bed, and contemplated the tempting idea of sheltering yourself back between the sheets, which seemed very appealing. At least until you heard a noise coming from the kitchen. A strong sound, and then some swear words. You perked, raising your head from the comfort of your pillow, and stood up, the shirt you had stolen from your boyfriend not so long ago barely hiding your panties, your thighs in full view, as you knew he liked them. Your steps were silent and swift, barefoot over the wooden floor of the corridor, and you tried to muffle a chuckle when you saw Chris in front of the stoves, trying to clean a huge stain of burnt dough on the marble, a cute pout on his puffy lips and quick soapy movements working to get it done before you woke up. You sneaked up on him, your hands wrapping around his torso as you placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder blades, smiling.

"What are you up to?" you whispered, Chris tensing under your arms. You unconsciously pulled away, acting as if nothing had happened until your boyfriend curved his lips in apology and took your hands to return them to where they had been, stroking your skin in soft caresses.

"I was such an asshole yesterday," he explained to you, leaning against your touch with a wearily sigh and enjoying your warmth. "I'm sorry."

You shook your head, nuzzling into the hollow of his neck, your chest pressed against his back, and murmured a few words of reassurance, letting him know that nothing was wrong. It had felt awful, but having time to cool down you had been able to put yourself in his shoes, trying to understand why he had reacted that way, and you had an idea of what the cause had been. He turned around in your arms, his gaze still slightly clouded by sleep, eyes narrowed, his chaotic curls falling over his forehead and the pout on his lips, unleashing the need in you to lean and kiss it away. You held back, though.

“What are you up to?” you repeated.

“I wanted to make breakfast” he told you, securing your arms around his waist, his own hands cupping your cheeks, and resting his forehead on yours, your heights being similar. “You know, making some pancakes. I had juice already prepared! But I fucked up the dough.”

You giggled, your chest vibrating against his, and it made him laugh too. You could see the curve of his lips creating those dimples you loved so much even if you had your eyes closed. You had seen him smile so many times you could describe with precision the way his mouth arched or how his eyebrows slightly raised, his saint eyes turned into cute happy crescent monos. You kindly kissed his cheek, parting a little bit from his embrace, and interlocking your gazes.

“What should we do, then?”

“I have an idea” he whispered, as if it was the biggest secret, some confidential information that shouldn't be shared. You snickered at his antics, your heart warming due to his goofy nature, and leaned over to hear it, “we should go to that café you really like and try those new weird donuts”.

“Oh my god, yes!” you exclaimed, patting his back in soft motions with excitement, “We should totally do that!”

“Go get changed while I finish cleaning this, babygirl” he pointed, giving your butt a tight squeeze, playfully. “I'll get some random pants on my backpack and join you in a sec”.

You nodded, leaving a sweet peck on his lips, and ran to your bedroom, grabbing the first combination of clean clothes you found and hiding in the bathroom to do a tiny part of your usual skincare routine before going out with your boyfriend. You smiled at your reflection, allowing you to feel that hope that everything that had happened had been a weak moment, nothing to be too worried about, and it all had gone back to normal. You heard Chris rummaging through your kitchen, cleaning the stoves and the table, washing his hands, maybe even walking around the place, before he peeked into the bathroom.

He smirked at you through the mirror, settling himself behind you, sliding his hands over your soft tummy and waiting while you finished removing the cleanser, leaning his chest against you. You couldn't help but chuckle, dainty tears of water slipping down your face, when he started to kiss your neck, liking the drops that were falling from your cheeks and placing open mouthed kisses all over the sensitive skin of your throat. He didn't stop as you grabbed the towel, drying your wet face, and you tried to muffle a whimper when he bit a specific point over your pulse, your body starting to react to his lips, heating up. But you couldn't repeat your last mistake.

“We have to talk about last night” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, as if you were praying for him not to have heard it so you wouldn't have to go through that needed conversation. He sighed, trying not to close his eyes, not to hide from you, not to be the coward of a boyfriend you had, and simply nodded, unable to do anything more. “Do you want to start?”

He refused, the look of pleading in his face making you melt in redemption and let him be, and started talking: “I'd like to start this apologising for my behaviour yesterday” you said, the hurt of your eyes making him grimace, “I assumed we were in the same page and I should have checked with you before saying anything”.

“It's not your fault, baby” he murmured, savouring every word while letting it roll out of his mouth, thinking that explaining to you his reasonings he could understand himself a little bit better, “we should have talked about it before doing anything, it's true, but it's not your responsibility”.

“It's just that I'm so used to being like that with my partners that I didn't even ask you if you were okay with it” you complained, a little pout forming in your lips.

“I… I get you” he paused, unsure of what to say next. He really did get you, he too was used to a specific role in the bedroom, but he wasn't as confident as you while saying it. “I guess we made a mistake, right? Before all the sexual intercourses we should… we should have talked about it”.

“Sexual intercourses?” you asked, the ghost of a smile in your face, surprised by his choice of words. If he was already rambling, your suspicions were confirmed. You rested your head on the crook of his neck, looking at his reflection, his eyes staring back at you. “Channie, tell me about what you want, then”.

“I want…” he started, his voice cracking a bit in the middle of the sentence. He lowered his head, looking down, almost as if he thought that by concentrating hard enough he might disappear, and cleared his throat. His heart was racing, you could feel it between your shoulder blades, and his mouth was dry. He had to say it, he knew you wouldn't judge him, but it was too hard for him. Maybe, if he started with something simple.... "I want to be the one to make you feel good."

“Yeah?” you hummed, avoiding the smile that threatened to show in your lips, glad that he was finally giving in, “What else?”

You saw him swallow with difficulty, peeling his hands off your belly, where he had been holding the shirt too tightly, and rested them on the ceramic sink, his knuckles still white, caging you in his arms. He seemed to be searching at full speed for what answer would be the right one, what would get him off the hook, what words you would like to hear. You were at a dead end. Chris was a person who needed physical contact, and in your relationship that had meant little brushes of his lips on your forehead, his hand on your thigh as you drove, and his arm around your shoulders or your waist in any crowd. He needed to be in contact with your skin all the time, and if that option was denied him, the stress began. The same stress he was feeling at that very moment because he knew that he could not continue to touch you comfortably until you talked about your sexual intercourses.

“I want to make you feel good” he repeated, licking his lips but still avoiding your gaze on the mirror, “but not the way I've done it so far”. “Done it with me?” you asked, the calm and lull tone of your voice caressing his ears, your mouth moving against his neck as you turned between his arms to face him.

“No… No, with the other girls” he explained, whining slightly, resting his forehead against yours for some comfort. “With… With you it was always different”.

“How come, baby?” you whispered, sliding your hands up his chest until you cupped his cheeks and he leaned to your touch. You saw him look away, shame blushing his ears.

“I thought I…” he seemed on edge, like he was pushing himself to blurt out his mind, and in a way he was. The caresses you were leaving on his skin raised shivers, and you heard him admit, quietly: “You always had the control”.

“Do you want it? To be that way?”

He grimaced, frowning, and parted enough to lock his gaze with yours, his bright dark irises shining like the most precious gold found in the middle of the raw soil, melted chocolate bar in your favourite mug. It looked like he was trying to share all his thoughts with you just by letting you read his mind, and you smiled warmly, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know” he breathed, his face mere inches away from yours, and as light as his freckles were, you could swear you were able to count them.

“Do you want to try?” you told him, your hand finding its place in the chaotic mess of curls his hair was. “You tell me to stop, and we stop, yeah?”

He moved forward, placing a greedy kiss on your still parted lips, and you let out a gasp, surprised by his boldness. You tugged lightly on his hair, which was tangled in your hand, making him pull back and he let out a soft sound, itching to have you as close as possible.

“I need words, baby boy” you murmured, your mouth moving against his, and you watched as he fought with himself just to answer, still unsure of how he felt. The day before having you between his arms had felt correct, he loved being able to hold you. Now, the pit of his stomach burned, and he had left to discern if it was the most terrible fear, or just nervousness and excitement. He did want what you had offered, but he didn't know what it was going to be like.

“I… I haven’t done that” he decided to say, trying to explain himself. “Huh, surrender. I thought… The only thing I’ve known was to act like I knew everything, y’know? It was the only thing… And what people expect me to be, that persona everyone seems to know, what I’m supposed to be like.”

“Have you ever had to do something you didn’t want to in a sexual intercourse, baby?” you asked, your little joke floating through your sentence, but your tone steady as steel, expecting an answer.

Chris peeled from you, your bodies suddenly freezing in the absence of each other's warmth, and ran his hands through his hair, frowning as he tried to find the words, “Is not that, just… I want to make you feel good, it’s my… my purpose” he blurted, puppy eyes making you melt inside. “It’s hot” he added.

You let out a chuckle, "It's hot?"

“It’s hot” he repeated, as if that was the only truth that mattered.

“You’re a giver, Channie” you slurred, taking small steps towards him, as if he was a caged animal, “and that’s not a bad thing. In sex, you don’t need to label everything ーif something, I encourage you to try a lot of things to decide what you like or don’t like at all. You don’t need to tell me if you are a dom or a sub, just what are your dos and don’ts”

“Can we keep it simple?” he asked, his hands hovering hesitantly over your hips, still neither of you touching the other. “The first time? Some… Something soft?”

You took his face between your hands, cradling it in gentle motions, and nodded, breathing quick words of affirmation against his lips before kissing them, faint pecks, his own hands finally settling in your hips, the old shirt caressing your skin as he pulled it up, eager to touch you, with no fabric between. He sighed into the kiss, a muffled whine that talked about all the unbearable neediness he used to suppress, always looking for his partners’ pleasure and ignoring his own, and letting you decide the rhythm. Your favourite part of making out with him had always been how responsive he was, all the sounds he fought not to let out, being the vocal of his kpop group making so much sense. He was ready for you whenever you asked for him, and it was impossible for you to resist it. You were two fierce perfectionists longing to worship each other, his plump lips leaving you breathless with every single caress against yours, already swollen and wet, and craving.

“Can I… please, can I taste you?” he mumbled, you pressing open-mouthed kisses to the flesh of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing under your tongue, leaving reddish marks along its trail, already becoming addicted to the way his squirming body reacted to your ministrations.

“You sure?” you whispered, your hands wandering down his torso, his muscles flinching under your touch, until you reached the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, him taking the hint and stripping it off. He just nodded, his breath catching in his throat as you ran your fingers along his lower abs, and you giggled, still pecking his neck, some of your kisses even trailing down his chest. “You look like you are about to collapse”

“I might” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, his heart pounding, you feeling every beat against your lips.

“Yeah?” you answered, your voice as sweet as honey, standing in front of him and running your fingers down his neck, toying with the idea of closing them around his throat, vaguely choking him, even if he had asked for a nice vanilla moment. You felt his hips jutting forward, his parted lips reacting to your touch, and then he lowered his gaze, too flustered by his actions. “Follow me, baby”.

You hand guide him, your fingers intertwined with his, your lips curving at his clumsy footsteps. You paused at the end of the bed, looking sideways at Chris, at his flushed chest, feeling the skin of his hand burning under your touch, and turned around to face him. The sweet kiss you left on his cheek made him shudder, and he let out a broken sound from the bottom of his throat when you grazed your teeth over his neck. When you came back to his plush lips, giving them the attention they deserved, and lightly bit the lower one, he chased yours when you pulled away. You giggled, climbing onto the bed, and sat with your back against the headboard, tilting your head at his pout.

“Come here, Channie” you purred, patting the unravelled sheets between your legs. They still retained the warmth that had surrounded you when you had awakened, but now you didn't need them, the heat radiating from your bodies was enough. “Make me feel good”.

He let out a groan, low and needy, and he hurried to position himself where your hand was still, grabbing your bare legs to pull you closer to him, tentatively nuzzling your inner thigh, too shy to take the initiative but aching to be able to drown himself in you. He tried to hold back, biting his lips while he looked at you, waiting for your guidance, and when you buried your hand in his curls he took it as the permission he needed to keep pressing wet kisses to your skin. Once he slided your panties off of you, your dripping cunt fully at his sight, he licked slowly your folds, humming happily, making you sigh with closed eyes and your head thrown back. He peeked and saw your blissed features, muffling a whine in your pussy, flattening his tongue and trailing it over your clit, swirling around it with the only aim of pleasure you, rutting his hips rhythmically against the mattress. He started to suck on it, intoxicated in your scent, and then parted to focus on your entrance, pushing his tongue further inside, his mind clouded, feeling your clit touching his nose with every movement.

You moaned at a particularly good motion, rolling your hips against his mouth, and woke up from your hazy doze, pausing his attention with a tug of his locks, earning a sharp breath and a shaky mewl, the pooling heat in his abdomen burning. “You didn’t cum” he whined, his puppy eyes interlocking with your blurred gaze, catching his breath, as if it was painful for him even to think about it.

“You’ve been grinding against the bed for a while, baby” you murmured, caressing his slightly sweated skin, and running your index finger until it reached his chin, raising his head. “You've been so good to me…”

“M-mhm” he mumbled, his shiny eyes looking at you with pure adoration, waiting for you to continue.

You ducked your head until your lips touched his flushed ears, “What do you think about…” your voice barely a whisper, the pause making him whimper, “you inside of me?”.

The sound he let out was a wanton, loud moan, his head falling forward, avoiding looking at the bulge in his shorts, half hidden by the sheets, so worked up the only thing he could think about was you, and your words, your praise, your taste, your skin, everything about made him lose his mind in a way he hadn’t felt in forever. You cupped his cheek, pressing your lips against his, reaching blindly with your other hand to the first drawer of your bedside table, to grab a condom, the noise of the plastic bringing him back to reality.

He tried to take it from your hand with quivering fingers, pleading eyes when you pulled them away, sighing when you soothed his urge with another kiss, running the tip of your finger along the elastic waistband, "First we need to take off your pants, Channie, let me do all the work here."

He rose eagerly from the bed, discarding all the clothes that prevented you from seeing him completely naked, and then returned to take his place, so quickly that you almost missed how furiously red his shaft looked. A desperate groan rumbled in his chest when you sneaked your hand between your bodies, grabbing him with soft touch and ignoring his pleads to stroke him a little, only to slide the condom along his hardness. Chris hissed when you withdrew your hand, rolling his hips in response, his foggy eyes begging you to say something, do something, whatever, just…

“Can I… pleasepleaseplease, let… let me, can I put it in?” he stuttered, his parted mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses and drool all over your collarbone.

Your breath had caught in your throat, the ache between your legs taking all your control, and you could only nod, a shaky sigh leaving your lips, blowing warm air against your boyfriend's hair, slightly moving his shorter curls, while he sank himself into you. The shameless cry he released mirrored your melodic whimper, the intimacy of the moment making you close your eyes, throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him against you, his sweaty forehead against the shirt you were still wearing, both of you paralyzed, you adjusting to his size, him concentrating on how you felt around him ーbut not enough to cum too soon.

“You can move, babyboy” you slurred, your voice completely broken, your nails pressing against his hair and the muscles of his back, and he squeaked, his own fingers digging into your flesh as you talked. “A-ah, fuck. Feels amazing, Channie”.

He couldn’t leave your neck, choked sobs as he kissed and sucked every single spot, his hips twitching when you clenched around him, feeling totally full and content. The first thrust was slow and unsteady, dragging his shaft all along your walls, tearing cracked whimpers from the both of you, and then he snapped his hips back with all the strength of his body, quiet whines filling the room, starting a chaotic race.

“Is it… hah, is it okay?” he blurted out, muffled by your skin, “Am I doing good?”

“So… soー” you gasped, throwing your head back, at his swift motions, “so good. My good boy”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his dick twitching wildly, and he tried to pause, but you were already so so close, the messy, wet sounds his thrusts teared from your pussy a warning of it. You wrapped your marked thighs around his hips, helping him keep the rhythm, Chris keening at the sweet nothings you were whispering in his ear, the short and breathy ah ah ah's his mouth was releasing into the crook of your neck making you squirm. Your stomach flipped, the warm inside of you becoming a wildfire, so intense you didn’t know anymore if it was your arousal or his cum, but then you were the one releasing, soon your moans combining with his broken cries in the room.

“You made me feel the best, Channie '' you murmured, caressing his curls, while he flashe a sleepy smile.

#☆ㅤ🪐 writings!!#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bangchan #bangchan smut #bangchan imagines #bangchan x reader #about: no control #☆ㅤchris recs!!

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kentolove · 2 years

Text

There is always a time and place for everything.

Or in other words, you are far too shy for your own good.

Tsukishima Kei does not like beating around the bush.

He’s forward. Says things as they are. He’s never been one to hold back, and he won’t start anytime soon. He knows what he wants and he gets what he wants.

You, however, are the opposite. You shy away from upfront attention. You’re insecure and your mind plays games with you, and you cannot find ways to control it. You like to keep to yourself—that’s how you’ve always lived—and you don’t see a reason for change.

He is yin and you are yang.

You find balance in the midst of it all. He carries traits of you inside himself (as do you), and you make him better. He makes you better.

He loves you.

Tsukishima Kei has loved you all twenty years of his life.

From the first day he met you—a little boy with bruises all over his skin—he knew that he was destined to be yours. He was put on this earth to love you. To hold you. To call you his.

He shows you that he loves you. Granted, it is in his own way, words laced with a teasing tone that may sound insincere to most. (Luckily for him, you are not most. You are the light of his life.)

Tsukishima can’t imagine how lucky he is to have you.

You’re sitting in the cafeteria together, a room full of other students, but he can’t take his eyes off you. You’re fighting sleep, trying so hard to pay attention to the story that he’s telling you, but your mind is astray. You’re on the brink of dreamland, and Tsukishima feels guilty for plaguing you with his morning lecture affairs. He abruptly stops rambling.

“Why’d you stop?” Your nearly-closed eyes gaze into his.

“It’s boring,” he starts, the ever-present frown soon on his face. “You’re tired, anyways. I don’t wanna bore you anymore.”

Your eyes are alert for the first time this afternoon. “What’re you talking about, Kei? I love hearing you talk.”

You raise your head from your arm, finally eye-level with the boy. You lift your hands up to push his glasses further up his nose and Tsukishima loves it.

In all honesty, Tsukishima loves a lot of things that you do. He loves when you run up to him with a smile on your face, nothing new to tell him, simply declaring how you missed his presence. He loves it when it’s just the two of you in his tiny twin-sized bed, bodies molding together and forming one. He loves it when you call him in the middle of the night, asking him to help you with a certain subject that’s been too difficult for you to fathom. He loves it when you’re you, when you never apologize for being the person that you are.

“Tsukishima?”

He realizes that he’s spaced out when he meets your eyes yet again, a slightly bewildered look on your face.

“Sorry,” he smirks, a look you recognize as slyness, “just thinking about you.”

You’re nearly fully awake now, your mind love-drunk and shocked that he could utter such a romantic phrase so easily. Tsukishima is like that - his words of affection stumble out of his lips before he can catch them. His mind is filled with thoughts of you and you alone, and it’s only natural for him to think before he speaks. Maybe he’s weak—he’s not quite sure if he’d call it weakness—or maybe you just light his world up in an unimaginable way.

“Don’t say things like that.”

Your head soon falls into your hands—a weak attempt at hiding your face from him—but all he does is take your hands into his.

“Who are you hiding from?”

He’s too close. You can feel his breath ghost your skin, and you see each individual mole and freckle on his face. You could count each and every one of his lashes if you dared to (you want to, so badly), but you move away before your mind strays too far away.

“I’m leaving.”

You’re up before Tsukishima can blink, and he follows you in a rush to keep up with your steps.

“You’re no fun.”

“And you’re rude and weird and—”

Your face collides with the chest of another before you can stop yourself, and you look up and meet with the eyes of a goddess.

She’s bright. So damn bright. She’s beautiful and some part of you recognizes her from one of the lectures you have with Tsukishima.

She says your name in a sweet, cherry voice, one that nearly makes you collapse at her feet. “And Tsukishima, hi!”

You look in his direction and it seems as if he sparkles at the sight of her. He looks good, you think. He would look better attached to her hip and not yours.

Her name is Lia. You know her because everyone knows her. She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and you’re sure that if she was in love with her best friend, she would have no trouble confessing. She is Lia, and Lia is everything that you are not.

They get lost in conversation and your mind twists and turns against you. Tsukishima would call you dramatic. He’d scold you for your apprehensive behavior and give you courage you would never find anywhere else. He’s all that you see, but why can’t he think the same? Why can’t you be the air that he breathes?

You’re too far gone. All that courage is swallowed up and you need to leave. You need to escape from Tsukishima and Lia and the perfect future that they could possibly build.

“Um,” you interrupt, feeling both their gazes on you, “I need to go. I have a… test. And I need to study.”

Tsukishima grabs your wrist before you can make your grand escape. “What class? I can help you if you need it.”

You forgo his first question, “I’ll be okay. Bye!”

And you’re gone. Before he can question you on your behavior, you disappear from his grasp.

“Couple’s quarrel?”

It’s a joke. He knows it is. Lia is far too sweet to have a bad bone in her, let alone mockingly tease you.

“Oh–we’re not dating. It’s not like that.”

Her head turns in confusion.

“I see you guys sucking each others faces off at nearly every party you’re at.”

He knows what she’s referring to. You’re not sucking his face off, you just like being close to him in a crowded room. And sometimes he pulls you onto his lap and he sometimes likes to whisper in your ear. You’re not dating. He is not yours.

“We’ve never done that before,” he gets defensive, and traces of the ill-mannered Tsukishima everyone seems to know makes an appearance. “We’re just friends.”

“Friends who get jealous of one another?”

“They weren’t being jealous.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tsukishima. You’re too smart for that.”

He thinks. He remembers the look on your face and how distant you were. Would he call that jealousy? Is that how he looks like when he’s jealous?

A lightbulb sparks inside of his brain.

“I’ve gotta go.”

He practically runs to your apartment.

Tsukishima doesn’t like to run, but he supposes he’ll do anything to be closer to you.

You open your door with a small smile that drops as soon as you see him. A soft oh falls from your lips before you can stop yourself.

He lets himself in before you can protest. “You didn’t want to see me?”

“That’s not it. I was just… studying.”

He looks around and doesn’t find a single book on your coffee table.

“You’re lying.”

You stare him down. Your lips are dry. Your throat is scratchy. There’s nothing you have to say, so you opt for silence.

“Lia,” he starts and your heart drops. You’ve lost and you do not have the resolve in you to fight for his love. “Made me realize something.”

“What is it?” You don’t necessarily want to ask. Your heart beats far too rapidly waiting for his answer.

“I like you,” he makes one step towards you, and you let him. “More than a friend should.”

Time stops. Your heart is in your throat. Tsukishima takes another step closer. “Say something.”

It isn’t like him to beg. But he has never wanted anything as much as he wants you.

“Why me?”

“Because it’s you.”

His answer isn’t enough. You yearn for more.

“There so many other people you could love. They’d be better than me and worth more of your time and—”

“And all I want is you.”

Another step, and you’re eye-to-eye with your Kei. His eyes are clouded with a trace of annoyance. He knows you want him, just as much as he wants you.

“I’m yours,” he says, his forehead on yours and his eyes locked on you. “I always have been. I always will be.”

You’re shy. You always have been. You always will be. You’re shy, and even in the heat of his confession, you find a way to push Tsukishima Kei away.

“You don’t belong to anyone…” you lose momentum, “you’re your own person.”

He knows you. He knows your heart and the depths of your mind. He knows you want to be his, just as much as he wants to be yours.

“Don’t be stupid,” his hands find a home on your cheeks. Your eyes are on his, his eyes are on yours. “I want to be yours. Let me be yours?”

And with his eyes so sincere and true, how could you say no?

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madhatterbri · 4 months

Text

All Fell Down | Damian Priest

Summary: Y/N was in a relationship with Finn Balor. She starts getting closer with Damian Priest. He gets injured, and Finn finds out about their relationship.

@theworldofotps

"Just don't get with Damian, ya?" Finn asked one day at the bar. The two of you were drinking one night at the hotel bar after RAW. You stared at your ex-boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. The Irish man was never one to tell you who to date. "He's my best friend, and I wouldn't want things to get weird between us,"

You turned your head to the Puerto Rican wrestler he was referring to. He sat in a quiet booth in the corner. His head rolled back, and his eyes closed. Air pods were in his ear. An open book is left on the table with his glasses laid next to it.

"Come on, Finn," you chuckled and shoved his shoulder. As much as Damian was your friend, he wasn't your type. "Damian and I are friends, and we are professionals. I know how much Judgment Day means to you. I would never want to put you in an awkward situation,"

Finn smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "I know. I just needed the reassurance,"

"To friends," you cheered and took another swig of your drink. "And the best faction in WWE history,"

Finn's eyes lingered on you as you drink from your glass. A hint of sadness in them at the title he regretted giving you the day you two broke up.

Friends.

🖤💜

Weeks passed since that conversation, and everything was going well for you. You couldn't lie. The transition from NXT to RAW was a little rocky. Once things finally settled, you came out on top. Now, there were rumors that you may have a title shot soon to give you an opportunity at a major push.

Hanging out with Damian and Finn helped your transition as well. They were always willing to give you pointers. The three of you spent a lot of time traveling together. As much as you enjoyed getting close to Finn again, something drew you to Damian.

"Looking good out there," the archer of infamy complimented and nudged your arm. He leaned against the railing of the elevator with you.

"Good? More like great," you puffed out your chest. He snickered and rolled his eyes.

"Take it easy," he spoke his now infamous catch phrase. "Anymore air in that head, and you'll float away,"

"Would you try to catch me?" You asked and giggled. He looked at you weird yet smiled. You moved from the railing and faced him. You took a few steps back. "Oh no, it's happening. My head is filling with air,"

Your hands frantically touched your face. Your fingers lingered over your cheeks. You puffed your cheeks. He rolled his eyes as you walked backward on your heels.

"Very funny, Y/N," he spoke sternly yet couldn't hide the amusement in his face. The elevator suddenly jerked. Panic shined in your eyes as you reached out to grab anything to not fall and hit your head against the elevator doors.

Damian grabbed your hand and pressed you to him. His arms wrapped around your waist. A hand placed on the small of your back.

"Are you okay?" He asked. You placed your cheek on his chest. A tiny nod answered his question. He didn't move his hands away from you. The spark you felt for him is now a full flame.

"Damian," you whispered and looked up at him. His brown eyes stared into yours. You were scared the butterflies in your stomach would take over the elevator. "I like you.... a lot. I'm so afraid of losing you, of losing our friendship,"

The confession hung in the tense elevator. He gulped, trying to think of anything to tell you. He wanted to hear those words for so long. Damian knew he couldn't screw this up.

"You wouldn't be losing me, princesa. We are just getting a little more out of our friendship," he assured you. He leaned down to kiss you. You stood up on your toes and connected his lips to yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck.

🖤💜

Your relationship to Damian was kept a secret. The two of you still hung out as friends yet took every quiet moment to be a couple. No one knew, so no one was getting hurt. The promise you made to Finn locked away in the back of your mind. Long forgotten.

"Hey, Damian, can I talk to you for a second?" Balor asked during a RAW event. Damian looked away from the television. He was watching your match to see if there was anything that needed to be tweaked.

"Yeah, man, I was just watching Y/N. What's up?" Damian asked. Finn looked at the television screen and smiled. You evolved so much since your days in NXT.

"That's actually who I was going to bring up," he informed him. "I'm thinking about asking her out again,"

"What?" Damian asked a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. "I thought you two were over?"

"I know, trust me, I did too. I'm not one to live in the past, but I can't stop thinking about her," Finn confessed. "You two have gotten really close, and I can't ask her this question without looking jealous. Is she seeing anyone?"

Damian nearly panicked. The two of you hadn't really talked about telling Finn yet. Things were still too new. Judgment Day was important to him, but so were you. He couldn't lose you.

"She hasn't mentioned anyone," Damian admitted. "She is an open book. I'm sure she would have said something by now,"

Finn sighed in relief. He rubbed his hands over his head and face. He was going to ask you out tonight. No more waiting. He was going to finally get his girl back.

"I'll ask her after our match tonight. Thanks, man. You are the best friend a guy could ask for,"

Damian smiled, and the men watched as you pinned Teagan Nox.

"Looks like we are next. Let's meet her at the top of the ramp,"

🖤💜

You walked to the top of the ramp and slipped through the curtain. Damian and Finn stood around to meet you. Finn was smiling widely while Damian looked like he was going to a funeral.

"Did something happen?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just wanted to congratulate you after an amazing match," Finn complimented and hugged you. You wrapped your arms around him and looked at Damian in confusion. The hug lasted longer than any of the ones in recent memory. "I'll see you after the match, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be watching backstage. Kick their asses," you smiled. Cody and Jey had been giving them trouble for a while. It was time to eliminate them once and for all.

You watched in the back with Rhea Ripley. Finn was performing at high energy while Damian was distracted. He was still entertaining enough for fans to not notice. Every time he took a heavy hit, you cringed.

"You and Damian make a cute couple, ya know," Rhea commented. Your eyes widened in shock. You turned your head to make up an excuse. "Don't play dumb with me. You guys should tell Finn. You two may be history, but he deserves to know,"

The rest of the match you were lost in your thoughts. The promise you made to Finn played in your head as clear as day. You had to tell Finn together. Rhea cursed next to you. You looked at the screen.

Finn helped Damian up the ramp. The commentarors played it up that the match was brutal. Any wrestler could see he was in pain. His teeth were grit together. His hand held his head. Finn had a panicked look on his face.

You rushed to medical. With no sign of Finn, you made your way in. Damian laid on a bed. An ice pack was pressed to the back of his head. Tears sprung to your eyes.

"Mi corazon, what's wrong?" Damian's deep voice asked. You slowly walked over to him, feeling silly for being emotional. Injuries happened all the time in this business. Now instead of worrying about himself he was taking care of you.

"I was so worried about you," you admitted. He grabbed your hand. He rubbed his thumb gently against your skin.

"A kick to the head. Not my first or my last," he sighed and kissed the top of your hand. "Although if I play this up will you be my nurse and take care of me?"

Before you could answer someone else was in the room with you. The two of you stared in shock as Finn stood by. His face contorted in anger. His pale skin was now an angry red, and his breathing was heavy. Tears pooled at the bottom of his eyes.

"Finn, wait, please," you begged. You walked towards him yet he walked away.

Everything that Finn worked for in his career and personal life all fell down.

#fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #damian priest x you #damian priest x reader #damian priest x y/n

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inkdrinkerworld · 11 months

Note

I have a request if they’re open! I’m think dealer!remus comforting autistic reader since she’s scared that Remus is one of her hyper-fixactions. Totally not projecting myself into this 🫣

some of my past relationships have just felt like hyper-fixations of mine so I feel like autistic reader may feel the same idk. What do you think? 💗💗💗

i can see this and i understand this and so this was born:

liking remus and laughing at his jokes and spending time with him starts to feel weird out of nowhere.

you’re at his apartment, legs in his lap, munching on some fruit he got when you said yes to coming over, when the inkling that he might be a hyper fixation pops up.

you’re learning everything about him, spending days on end with him, doing your favourite things and his and suddenly the crush you’d had on him feels like it’ll end the moment you say the inevitable, ‘i like you more than friends remus.’

all of a sudden, your chest feels tight with your lack of surety and you curse your brain for how it works.

you can’t stop looking at him and wondering what what moment exactly will your brain decide that whatever is being built is over and he’s no longer interesting.

remus turns to you, cutting your silent crisis short with a worried look.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing your heel where it rests on his thigh.

it’s hard to find the words to tell him because if it is a hyper fixation remus should know; but then if it isn’t you run the risk of telling him of your feelings prematurely.

“dove?” he sits up straight, hand holding onto your shin now.

“s-sorry, got lost in my head.” it’s not a whole lie.

remus doesn’t seem settled with the answer and takes the almost finished bowl of assorted fruit from you and sets it on his coffee table.

“anything you can talk about?” you’re grateful for the way he phrases it and that fact makes itself known when tears spring to your eyes.

you really hope he isn’t a hyper fixation. you’re not aware that your breathing is harsh and labored until remus tugs you into his lap.

“hey,” his thumb collects the tears on the apples of your cheeks and you shut your eyes not having the heart to continue looking at him “what’s the matter, dove? you’re scaring me.”

he is scared, terrified that somehow he’s ruined whatever you both have got going on and he doesn’t know.

he doesn’t know you’re just as terrified that your brain has built him up and is about to make him come crashing down and make you disgusted by him soon enough.

“i’m sorry for crying,” you say softly and remus sucks at his teeth.

“don’t be sorry for that dove. crying is good.”

there goes your heart, racing away with his easygoing, kind words.

“you can tell me anything, y’know that yeah?” you nod, letting the feeling of his thumb stroking your cheek help regulate you.

“i think my brain is playing tricks on me,” you say softly after a couple beats of silence.

remus frowns but doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t want to set you off the course you’ve started.

“you know how sometimes you watch a show and there’s just something about it that makes you want to know everything about everything?” you open your eyes to catch his nod.

“i think my brain is doing that with you, but the part i’m scared about is after when i’ve learnt everything there is to know.”

“why? do you think you’ll know something you don’t want to?”

you huff a laugh and shake your head. “i’m afraid that when i know everything about you, my brain will decide that’s enough and i won’t want to know anything else about you again.”

remus coos and it makes more tears spring to your eyes. he pulls your forehead to press against his, noses brushing and if you weren’t crying you’d be hyper aware of how close you are.

“i can’t promise that won’t happen,” he says gently, thumb grounding you as it continues stroking your cheek.

“but, i can promise that even if your brain decides you’re done with me, i won’t hold it against you. and i’ll always be here for when your brain decides that it wants to know something again.”

your tears don’t stop and remus doesn’t try to stop them. he holds you till you cry every last bit of moisture from your body and he holds you some more when you fall asleep clinging to him on his sofa.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin fic #tism🤝

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electrosair · 10 months

Text

Where do they like to kiss? dendro + electro ver.

english isn’t my first language, sorry for mistakes

characters: al haitham + baizhu + kaveh + tighnari + cyno (separate)

word count: almost 1k

Al Haitham

Top of the head.

Somehow or other he has to show that he's still the cool guy, so he won't give you a lot of kisses or affectionate caresses in front of people. But once it's just the two of you, things change.

I was sitting on his lap, head buried in the hollow of his neck and half asleep, focusing solely on how his chest expanded and sank with each breath in rhythm with mine. He held a book in his hands and his eyes moved from left to right, reading every word and occasionally letting out little murmurs. He closed the book abruptly, perhaps unhappy with its contents, and I jumped at the noise. "Oh, sorry." He said in a soft tone and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to his torso. "You can go back to sleep." He sketched out a small laugh and pressed his lips against the top of my head, ruffling my hair slightly.

Baizhu

Wounds.

Hear me out, I know this probably sounds very typical or very weird or both at the same time. But for some reason my head only sees it possible for Baizhu to spend all his free time poking you in the scrapes and bruises so they 'heal faster'.

His work shift was over and we were relaxing quietly, ordering some new products that had just arrived at the pharmacy and talking about the day when he saw a previously unseen wound on the skin of my arm. "When did you get it? Let me see." He asked and dropped the jar of crushed herbs on a shelf, taking my wrist to closely examine the bruise. I quickly explained that it was a simple knock with a door, but Baizhu was adamant that it needed to be treated, not at all for the fact that he loved the feel of my skin under his touch. "Does it hurt much?" His fingers caressed the bruise on the outside of my arm and when I nodded slightly he brought his warm lips to it.

Kaveh

Cheeks.

Okay, but Kaveh getting upset about his job? Why do I feel like he would come back to you for a lot of comfort after a day with really annoying customers? He'd ask you for advice only to have you say one sentence to him, light up his own light bulb and shower you all over the face with kisses.

I was already tucked up in bed and Kaveh had not yet arrived home. The sounds of Al Haitham's footsteps stopped quite a while ago and the worry began to grow on me, only then the door opened and the noise returned to the house. Kaveh appeared through his door frame, looking drunk as he propped himself up so as not to fall. I jumped out of the sheets to go hold him down and sit him on the edge of the mattress, questions coming out of my mouth as I tried to check if he was okay. "Customers are insufferable, not like you." He mumbled vaguely, his arms gripped me tightly and he leaned me against his own body. I tried to speak again, but he cut me off before I could. "Oh, I should have thought of that before, just having you here does it for me." He laughed and kissed my cheeks quickly, still drunk and slid over to scribble something in his notebook.

Tighnari

Forehead.

This man is too sweet to exist, he would try to give you a single kiss, maybe as a goodbye, a peck or something but he would just convince himself that it's not enough and kiss your forehead (or anywhere else) as well.

I could see him gathering his stuff in a backpack for today's expedition, he said something about a strange plant throughout the day yesterday but I didn't pay much attention to him from the moment he uttered the phrase 'it's too dangerous for you to go blah blah blah'. Once everything he saw as necessary for his outing was inside the green bag he approached me, that typical face that even if I asked him on my knees he wasn't going to let me go. "Before you ask, no." I rolled my eyes, holding back a small laugh and nodded my head. "Well, I'll be going now then, I'll be back in the evening." He left a kiss on my lips and headed for the exit of our cabin but before he left he turned on his own heels and ran up to me again, leaving a kiss on my forehead.

Cyno

Legs.

This definitely sounds weird, but let me explain. I'm 100% sure Cyno would take you on some missions with him and you'd come back in pain from all that walking, so there's nothing better than kisses to relieve.

I kept my eyes closed as I groaned lying down, my calves felt more sore than usual and I knew perfectly well that tomorrow I was going to have a stiffness that wouldn't let me walk, but still I didn't plan to let Cyno down once I told him I would accompany him, at least for this week. "Is something wrong, do you want to rest?" I merely pointed to my legs, looking at him with abandoned puppy dog eyes, maybe I'd get him to give me a piggyback ride or more rest time. "What does that mean?" he asked and crouched down to my height, running his hand down my legs gently as he inspected. Noticing my expressions of pleasure as he massaged, he smiled and began spreading kisses all over my exposed skin, getting giggles from me.

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miasmaghoul · 3 months

Note

Okay, you said you wanted non-sexual prompts, so if this is a no thats totally fine. Could you write like casual piss? I don't know how to word this. No smut involved, just domestic? If that makes sense...

anon please know that the phrase "casual, domestic piss" has been on repeat in my weird little brain since i first read this, and also that i had an idea for it immediately

god i am such a pissboy smh

anyway, here, have some soft rulti ft a little casual, domestic piss.

what a sentence.

Rain is not what you could call a morning person.

He never rouses before noon, at least not willingly, and even when he is awake he simply migrates. Shuffles out of bed and drapes himself dramatically over a sofa to doze back off until someone pays attention to him. Trying to wake Rain up before he's ready is a futile task at best, and at worst a bite risk. Generally this isn't much of a problem - mass is in the evening, there are no strictly scheduled mealtimes or chores, so Rain is free to be as slothful as his heart desires.

Even rehearsal doesn't usually interfere.

On an average day, any practice happens whenever the ghouls feel like it. There's no rhyme or reason to it, really; sometimes they have creative energy that needs expressing, sometimes Dew gets a bug up his ass about working on a solo and drags along company, sometimes Mountain gets in one of his moods and hauls Rain over his shoulder for an impromptu...rhythm session.

Point is, it's not really something that's planned. More of a casual affair, something they do every day but never the same way twice. Again, this works out perfectly for Rain. There's never a rush to start the day, and the others know by now not to expect him at anything close to a reasonable hour.

The issue arises when tours approach.

Unfortunately (for Rain), Copia has proven to be a morning person. Rain (somewhat) silently laments that fact every time Sister Imperator announces a new leg, a new cycle. Every time, Rain hopes it'll be different. That Copia will suddenly despise the idea of singing with the morning sun, that he won't expect them to be up and ready to go by 9am, can you imagine?

(It should be noted that Rain is the only ghoul that actually minds this.)

Alas, this never proves to be the case, and as soon as his phone chimed with the notification of an Imperator meeting Rain knew that his beauty sleep was soon to be severely compromised.

"Next week," Copia had said after Sister Imperator laid out the proposed itinerary. "Next week, on Sunday, we will resume our standard rehearsal schedule."

He'd handed out a list of thirty songs to each of them, a not-so-short list for the ghouls to study and provide input on. An opportunity for them to put together their own setlists to compare and contrast them with one another.

Rain had used his sheet of paper to hide his frown, dreading the fact that Sunday was only five sleeps away.

"I know that face," Swiss had teased when they left the meeting, looping a strong arm around Rain's shoulders. "Someone's being a pouty princess again."

Rain had given him a hiss, but Swiss just grinned at him in that very Swiss way and, well, Rain can never stay mad at him anyway.

"Not all of us look good with eye bags like yours" he'd grumbled, a statement that had wrung a loud ha from Swiss.

"I dunno," he'd snickered, ducking his head to knock his horns with Rain's. "You look pretty damn good when I tire you out."

Rain had rolled his eyes so hard he'd gotten dizzy, but it wasn't an accusation he could deny.

He also couldn't deny Swiss the opportunity to prove his point, and as they lay in the afterglow Rain gives a mighty yawn.

"This's bullshit," he slurs against Swiss' chest, nuzzling into the spot that smells the most like pepper and whisky and old weed. "Who even gets up that early?"

"Most of the abbey is up at dawn," Swiss chuckles, settling into Rain's lanky hold. "You're the exception to the rule, starfish."

Rain would argue, but then Swiss' purr kicks up and he's sinking his fingers into his sweat-damp waves and Rain feels little desire to do more than enjoy the way Swiss envelopes him. The way their skin sticks together with drying sweat, among other things. Swiss had given him a courteous cleanup where it mattered, but Rain's entirely too wiped out for a shower. Wonderfully sore all over, drained, and way too dehydrated to stand up for very long.

He doesn't mind it though - not when it makes him smell like Swiss too.

"Whatever," he grumbles, grabbing the covers and tugging them up over his shoulders. "S'still bullshit."

He's been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last twenty minutes or so, drifting on casual conversation and the brush of Swiss' fingertips along his bare back. Now that they're finally settling in Rain finds himself fading by the second.

"Don' wake me up'n the morning," he adds with another yawn, and the last thing Rain hears before all goes quiet is the raspy little laugh Swiss gives in return.

The next thing he hears is rushing water, creaking pipes and the telltale twitter of birdsong.

It feels like no time at all since he sunk into the peaceful realm of sleep, but when he dares to crack an eye Rain finds himself assaulted by rosy sunlight. Morning. Early, by the look of it. Rain shuts his eyes tight and groans.

"Finally," a deep voice hums, clearly amused. Footsteps pad across the floor and Rain feels the mattress dip behind him. "I've been shaking you for ten minutes."

Swiss reaches up to scratch at the base of one of Rain's horns, affectionate. Rain makes an unhappy sound, as close to a real whine as he ever gets, and Swiss gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"Why 'm I awake?" Rain hates his morning voice, all thick and inelegant. "Did I sleep 'til Sunday?"

"If that's what it takes to get you out of bed," Swiss chuffs, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Rain's ear. "Let's go, up 'n at 'em," he encourages, regardless of continual grumbly protests. "You might as well get used to existing before lunchtime while you can."

"This is torture," Rain complains, tucking his knees up towards his chest. "Inhumane."

"Good thing we aren't human, I guess."

Rain cracks an eye open just to shoot Swiss' blurry visage a sideways glare. Swiss winks as he lifts the covers just enough to lean down and press a kiss to Rain's shoulder. He rests his chin there after, gives him a warm smile.

"C'mon, raindrop," he lilts, sneaking lithe fingers under the covers. Dragging them along the nape of Rain's neck. "I'm drawing you a bath, surely you can forgive me."

Ah, that would explain the water he can still hear. Rain blinks at him, sluggish.

"Remains to be seen," he grouses, "but it's a start."

Swiss flashes him a grin, and then those warm, cozy covers are ripped from Rain's naked body with no ceremony. He yelps as the chilly morning air hits his skin, more awake than he ever intended to be and scowling at the other ghoul.

"Oh don't make that face," Swiss teases, reaching down to give Rain's nose a gentle flick. "C'mon, I put that weird shit you like in the tub and everything."

Swiss holds Rain's ankle, rubs his thumb over the bony ridge of it while Rain sniffs at the air. Picks up notes of rosemary and peppermint, citrus and rose. The bath salts Mountain had gifted him for Yule, an energizing scent that's sure to chase the exhaustion from his muscles.

Still, he can't give in that easily.

"Fine," he pouts, stretching his legs and not at all adoring the way Swiss' fingers glide along his skin. "But only if you carry me."

The words earn him an extreme eye roll, but Swiss can't hide his amusement. He heaves a mighty sigh, cracks his neck and knuckles, and Rain most definitely doesn't watch the muscles in his arms and chest flex.

"As you command, princess."

Swiss says it with an exaggerated bow, and then he's scooping Rain up with no further preamble. Rain snickers, looping his arms around Swiss' neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. He's warm and solid, comfy, and if the walk to the bathroom was more than ten steps Rain could very easily drift off again.

As it stands, he's being set down far too soon for his liking, letting out a squeak when his bare ass meets the cold marble of his vanity. Swiss kisses him on the forehead when Rain frowns once again, giving his stomach a little tickle just to make him squirm.

"You want it hot or scalding?" Swiss asks as he strides to the tub, steam wafting around him. Rain stares unabashedly at his ass, eyes tracing the obvious bite mark he left there the night before.

"Boil me like a lobster," Rain sighs, stretching his arms over his head and trilling at the way his spine pops. Swiss gives him a thumbs up, twisting the faucet knobs while Rain yawns. "How much salt did you put in?"

"Enough to make you smell like the greenhouse for a week," Swiss replies, testing the temperature and only hissing a little at the heat. Rain takes a deep breath, taking in the herbal steam and letting it soak into his skin. "Mount'll be all over you."

"Don't sound so jealous," Rain says with a sleepy tilt, scratching at his chest, "you can share me once in a while."

Swiss snorts as he wipes his hand on the bath mat, turning back with a lazy smile on his face. Rain blows him a kiss while he swings his feet, ankles crossed, and doesn't complain when Swiss crowds him closer to the mirror ar his back. Palms planted on the vanity so he can lean in and nose at Rain's temple.

"You assume I want to share," Swiss rumbles, possessive fangs grazing Rain's jaw. It gives him the shivers in the best way, but Swiss doesn't push further. He steps back so Rain can see the sparkle in his golden eyes, the wrinkles at their corners. He's beautiful, and if Rain were in a more giving mood he'd say so. As it stands...

"You can cope," he mumbles, nose in the air, and earns another eye roll. Rain sticks his tongue out at the other ghoul just because he can, reaching for his comb to try and work out some of the knots Swiss gifted him last night. Before he can grab it, though-

"Ah," Swiss interrupts, batting at Rain's hand. Rain raises a brow as Swiss picks up the comb instead, moving to stand in front of him again. "You're playing princess this morning, remember?" He twirls the comb between two fingers, the same motion he does when he steals Mountain's sticks. "Lemme take care of you like one."

Swiss offers a roguish wink, and while some part of Rain knows that an offer like this - especially from Swiss - always comes with caveats, he can't find it in himself to argue. Blame it on sleep deprivation (nine hours isn't nearly enough), but all he can do is hum and nod.

"If you insist," he yawns, leaning forward to rest his cheek gainst Swiss' pecs, "but don't be surprised if you put me back to sleep."

Swiss' laugh resonates through his skull, dull claws scratch at his scalp, and the purr that kicks up in Rain's chest when he begins to comb is one he has no control over.

Swiss talks to him while he works, picking out every tangle he can find. Talks about everything and nothing, from the places they'll be playing this next tour, to the fitting for their new uniforms. Rain hums where appropriate, but mostly he drifts. Basks in the scratch of Swiss' chest hair against his cheek and the care with which he fixes his hair. It can't take more than a few minutes, but it feels like forever in the best way.

"Alright," Swiss eventually murmurs, stroking delicate fingers through Rain's knot-free waves. A delightful feeling that could put Rain back to sleep all on its own. "Ready for the bath, your highness?"

Rain huffs out a soft laugh, nips at his chest just hard enough to make Swiss jump. He's woozy when he sits up, half present and more than a little floaty, so relaxed he may yet melt into the sink beside him. He yawns again, smacks his lips while Swiss twirls a curl around his finger.

"Mm," Rain hums with a bleary blink. He reaches up to sling both arms around Swiss' neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Almost," he sighs against Swiss' mouth. The other ghoul pulls back, gives him a quizzical look. "Gotta pee first," Rain elaborates, shooing Swiss away. "C'mon, lemme up."

"Nah," Swiss replies, waving a hand, and it takes Rain a second to register it. He grins again, happy as a clam, and then he's hoisting Rain up by the backs of his thighs and all Rain can do is scrabble at his back with a yelp, clinging.

"What the -"

Before he can get the words out, Swiss is setting him down again, right in front of the toilet. Lets Rain get his feet under him, holding his hips until he's balanced, and then he's pressing a quick kiss to his horn. Rain blinks up at him, opens his mouth to speak, but then Swiss is turning him on the spot. Snuggling himself right up to Rain's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder, dragging the tip of his nose along the shell of his ear.

"As you wish," he croons, low, and Rain chuckles. Leans back into that broad chest and moves to aim at the bowl, eager to empty himself so he can finally slide into the herbal soup Swiss has so lovingly prepared.

Swiss grabs his wrist before he can manage it, though, and Rain just stares at it. Blinks. Swiss lifts his hand to his lips, kisses Rain's palm.

"Uh-uh," he breathes, warm against his skin, "I told you, sweetheart," another kiss, to the inside of Rain's wrist, "lemme take care of you."

Rain shivers at the feel of a large hand coming to rest low on his stomach, the one holding his wrist guiding in to rest over Swiss' own hand. Rain stares down at them, laces his fingers with Swiss', and heaves a deep sigh when Swiss' other hand slides over his hip. Tracing the line of his happy trail with two fingertips, until he reaches the soft swell of Rain's cock.

Swiss takes it in hand, aims, and Rain feels the strangest bloom of warmth in his chest.

"Go on," Swiss encourages, kissing the hinge of his jaw, "when you're done I'll even scrub your back."

"You'd do that anyway," Rain replies, and Swiss gives him a half shrug.

"A little incentive never hurts."

Rain snorts, but doesn't feel the need to argue. He takes in the way his cock looks in Swiss' hand, pale against his skin, nothing sexual about it regardless of their position. Of the way he can feel every inch of Swiss against his back, warm and comfortable and familiar. It's intimate, to be sure, but in a context Rain isn't sure he's ever felt before.

Rain offers a pleased sigh when the last drops hit the water, lets Swiss give it a couple shakes, and then he's turning in his arms. Planting a kiss on his stubbled chin.

He gives Swiss' hand a squeeze, presses it into his belly, and both of them groan when the first few dribbles leak out. It's no time before Rain can let go fully, a steady stream of relief, silly giggles escaping him when Swiss moves his dick around to draw shapes in the water. Swirls and circles and a their initials, because Swiss doesn't know how not to be a sap.

"Better?"

"Better," Rain smiles, wrapping long arms around Swiss' waist. "Now get me in that tub, I'm sick of being sticky."

Swiss laughs, gives him a squeeze, and this time Rain's expecting to be lifted.

"Such a princess," Swiss complains, lowering him into the steaming bath, and Rain groans. Swiss ruffles his hair, wasting no time in sliding into the tub behind him.

"Guess that makes you my prince," Rain mumbles, resting back against him the moment Swiss settles, and the pleased purr that rattles through his chest is almost enough to turn it into a jacuzzi.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #a full fic actually but oh well #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #rain/swiss #rain x swiss #rulti #this is weird ngl #but have it anyway

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lynnieos · 9 days

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WxS ships and where they like to kiss each other (Is there a better way to word this)

Added an under the cut so people don't have to scroll far ,:3

Emunene: The cheek! Emu looooves running up to Nene and smothering her in cheek kisses, and when Nene returns the favor she gets so happy that she tackles nene and gives her like a hundred more kisses lol

Nenerui: The temple! Rui has a habit of hugging Nene from behind and he likes snuggling into her neck and kissing her temple. Nene may pretend shes unaffected but she really likes it when he does it :3

Rui also likes resting his head on Nene's lap (and vice versa but shh) and Nene sometimes tucks his hair behind his ear and place a lil kiss on his temple. She only does it when he's sleeping because the one time she did it awake she almost died from the embarrassment (rui has pretended to be asleep so she could do it hehe)

Emukasa: The crown of the head? Yeah sure the crown of the head. Emu loves running up to her partners and tackling them into a hug and with tsukasa she immediately nuzzles into his chest cause he's so warm and comfy. Tsukasa may be taken aback but he sighs and pulls her closee and kisses the crown of her head and shit okg i hate them/pos. When Emu and tsukasa are hugging tsukasa tends to bury his head into her chest or stomach and Emu will gently run her fingers through his hair and press a kiss there. Sleepy cuddles. I hate them/pos.

Emurui: The forehead! Emu just goes up to Rui and makes grabby hands and rui smiles at her all soft and leans down and gently brushes back her bangs to kiss her forehead hdnhsnsbs. And sometimes Rui picks Emu up to kiss all over her face and ends it off with and extra long kiss to her forehead and Emu gets so giddy and happy she starts squirming and stimming and hugging and then they cuddle and OH MY FUCKING GOD I hate them/pos

Nenekasa: The lips! Mainly because it shuts tsukasa up really quickly/j but sometimes tsukasa is rambling to her about something l(himself, a new role, a play, etc etc) and Nene stares at him and just grabs his face and kisses him right on the lips. Tsukasa never expects it and is super flustered every single time but Nene is already one foot in the grave from the mortification that she really just did that. Why would she do that she needs to crawl into a hole and die-

Untilllll tsukasa gently cups her cheek and pulls her in for another kiss ajsjsjajaj haha what if I exploded this is so embarrassing. I hate them/pos

Ruikasa: The hand! They're both stupid and sappy like that yk? I think ruikasa is pretty big on PDA (they're so annoying/aff) so tsukasa will wax poetic to Rui in front of everyone and place a kiss on his hand and rui will be all flustered and swoony. Rui will do the same and then they start spewing declarations of love and everyone is sick of them in like 2 minutes lmao

Polysho: it does not matter as long as they're kissing. (not in a sexual way btw I feel the need to say that cause the phrasing might sound weird). The cheeks the forehead the lips the hand anywhere. As long as they're close and together they're happy. Everyplace is their favorite place in those moments. Eewwww I hate them/pos

#nene kusanagi #rui kamishiro #tsukasa tenma #emu otori #nenerui #emunene #emurui #emukasa #nenekasa #ruikasa #polysho #project sekai #save me kissing hcs...

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reitski · 1 year

Text

ʚɞ ❝𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞ ʚɞ

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 : sfw, fluff, gn!reader

୨♡୧ you and bachira usually cuddle on the couch. if you don't mind, he will hold you close to his chest, tells you about his dreams with occasional kisses on your head or forehead. if you ask him to hold you close with both arms, he will do that too. he will whisper gentle compliments or phrases in your ear that he wants or thinks you should hear.

୨♡୧ if you are the big spoon, he melts into your arms. running your fingers through his hair, stroking or even slightly scratching his back relaxes him. his stress dissapears in minutes.

��♡୧ bachira is afraid that you will get tired of him, because of his enthaustic personality. does him being noisy gives you a headache? do you get tired of the extra attention he wants when he's down? you should go comfort him and tell that 'you love him the way he is'.

୨♡୧ he will tell you about his day. how did his training go, what did he do, funny moments with isagi and other things. but mainly he always asks you how your day went. he wants to know if your job is stressful or frustrating. if that's the case, he'll do his best to get home before you and prepare you a bubble bath.

୨♡୧ if it's okay for you too, he will sit by the tub, gently wash your hair and body. these moments can be as chaotic as they are romantic. if bachira gets too excited, he'll jump in the tub and your bathroom will fill up with water.

୨♡୧ he loves pda. he is someone who likes to express his love. so, he will somehow find a way to show his love for you. are you walking together? he holds your hand, interlocks fingers each other. are your laces untied? he notices it even before you do. you and him sitting together? he makes sure that your knees touch his. if he can't hold your waist at that moment, he will put his hand on your shoulder.

୨♡୧ he gets jealous easily but won't show it. he is afraid of seeming restrictive and bothering you. bachira is a possessive man towards his loved ones. he wants your full attention to be on him. if he doesn't get what he wants, he'll do puppy eyes and pout his lips. but he won't go further than that or put pressure on you. just make sure that he's not insecure and give him some kisses.

୨♡୧ he is glad that you get along well with his mother. if you want to spend time with her, he will be the happiest person in the world. he watches the interactions of the two most valuable people in his life, with hearts coming out of his eyes.

୨♡୧ he likes giving you pet names. but they are either too romantic or too cringy. he also likes pet names given by you for him. his favorites are 'my love', 'my baby' and 'my pretty boy'. yes, he likes the thought of being yours.

୨♡୧ whenever you are sick or not feeling well, bachira will make sure to take care of you. he makes weird facial expressions or jokes to make you laugh. he wants to see his lovely partner healthy and happy.

୨♡୧ in conclusion, bachira meguru is an excellent boyfriend and you can't even imagine a better one.

#blue lock x reader #bachira headcanons #bachira fluff #bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira meguru #bllk scenarios #bllk x reader #bllk bachira #bllk imagines #bllk fluff #blue lock scenarios #blue lock headcanons

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t34-mt · 10 months

Text

got asked in af dms how playing flute would work, thought id share it here so you finally know how the breathing system works

nostrils, Chest nostrils, also called operculum are a common thing on every animal of altuyur (silieus or que'arsaeb). Some animals can have multiple slits to become living flutes (usually found in herd animals, and social ones), and multiple slits are commonly placed at the neck or back even. The opperculum are sound organs, with several vents and muscles that close it the operculum is quite good for whistles, low sounds, and high-pitch warnings

tho some families developed an organ that allows them to create much more complex sounds, that organ is called the vocal box and it usually goes back into the mouth, neck, or face. Maanuls and kyhuines are part of a family that has a vocal box and in their case, the vocal slits are found in the back of the mouth.

the vocal box lets them create more complex calls, sounds, and even "words". maanuls/kyhuines have one of the more complex vocal boxes if not the most, while they have word language half of their communication is done by "animalistic" calls and sounds. They cannot roar, the most aggressive sound they can make is a hissing one and that said hiss reassembles the one of a kitten, they sound like they're spitting (the hiss is obviously deeper/louder for maanuls due to their size, kyhuines hiss is very kitten-like because they are small). they can do a variety of yelling, "mews" that sound like flute sounds, they are an overall loud species that chatter to each other constantly, in groups even when not speaking they will do small noises either by using operculum or with vocal box but keeping their jaws shut.

some sounds are exclusive to one species, for example, "kyhuine chatter" one they do when grooming each other (or other social bonding activity) which sounds like weird pigeon noise. maanuls don't do that sound, and if they were to recreate it wouldn't be perfect because they cannot make such high-pitched noise. A maanul raised with kyhuines will do that noise instinctively but again, its not a perfect replica but still a closer one than an outsider maanul can do

they can speak constantly since the air goes through the lungs and then redirected to the vocal box instead of nostrils. maanuls and kyhuines got that corvid/parrot "accent", and hypothetically they would be good at mimicking our words without understanding them.

when speaking, maanuls/kyhuines will also use their operculum as tone indicators, by that mean when they do is whistle, do low pitch with their nostrils as tone indicator for their words. without operculum it would be near impossible to understand some phrases

fun fact, their snoring equivalent would be nostril whistles! another fun fact is that if they don't coordinate their vent right they might sound like there's 2 voice speaking same words, uncoordinate voice are common in drunk individual

edit:by the way when not breathing they inhale and exhale through chest nostrils, when speaking air goes in lung and whats supposed to get expelled goes then in vocal box and then expelled by vocal vents

#digital art #my art #artists on tumblr #worldbuilding #speculative zoology #maanul #kyhuine #altuyur #xenobiology #alien #2023 #sketch #breathing system

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bravevulnerability · 8 months

Note

prompt: the 3x13 kiss happened in s1 or s2

A/N: I feel like you all figured out my weakness for Knockdown...

Set during 2x24, A Deadly Game; Beckett and Castle didn't figure out that their victim was not a real spy quite so quickly.

"Good evening, 223, the informant has been identified. Ally contact will meet you at Café Moulin in 315 hours with further instructions. If compromised, return to Belvedere Castle. Aid will be dressed in black. Wear the pin. Use the following code phrase, "Aren't you Steve's friend?" Response, "No, Steve is my brother." Good luck, 223."

"Our victim's a spy, so we have to play the spy game," Castle muses, walking with her through the park. "Act natural."

"Castle, you are the one making weird hand signals at me," Beckett huffs.

"At least I look like I'm engaging in conversation and not scanning the trees for killers," he mutters, reaching for her hand and tucking it in his elbow. "There. Realism."

She rolls her eyes, but - much to his delight - does not yank her hand back. "What are we supposed to be, a couple on a romantic stroll?"

"Um, duh. Why else would we be walking through a park together at 2 p.m. on a Monday? For fresh air? If whoever killed our spy is watching, they already saw us at the crime scene this morning."

"Maybe it's pointless to even try playing this off," Beckett mutters, but her hand still remains relaxed and curled in the crook of his elbow.

"The boys are investigating the cafe, we sweep the park." He shrugs. "Can't hurt. Besides, it's a nice day."

She cuts her eyes to him, but her body remains a present heat at his side as the castle comes into view. They stroll up the stone steps leading to the main terrace of the castle. The wind is more prominent at this higher point in the park, the water of Turtle Pond surrounding the Belvedere rippling under the clouded sky.

The pavilion is barren at this time, the cool bite of spring still prominent enough in the air to discourage lingering visitors.

"Castle, ten o'clock," she murmurs, noting the man in black strolling in solidarity along the castle's perimeter, climbing up to the second level. "Think that might be our guy?"

He shrugs, following the other man's lead. "Only one way to find out."

But just a moment later, Esposito's voice crackles in her ear and Beckett's fingers tighten at his arm.

"We made contact in the café. The castle meeting is a trick, if you show up there trying to make contact with the dude in black, the jig is up. Fall. Back."

But they can't fall back. The guy is clocking them over his shoulder right now.

Kate shoves Castle into a curve of stone railing, using the nearest wall of the castle as cover. Spinning to face him with hands on his chest and body pressed up against him, she meets his gaze with a calm expression and a wild gaze.

"You hear that?" she murmurs. He nods, heart accelerating from both her proximity and the sudden threat. "We just play this off, okay?"

"Okay, I have an idea." She doesn't hesitate, her eyes so trusting on his, even as he relaxes his face into a smile and slides his hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

Her expression is priceless, wide eyes and parted lips, but she's smart, knows exactly what to do.

A very unlike-Beckett giggle flutters past her lips and she laces her arms around his neck, pressing her full weight against him.

"Is he watching us?" she grins, but her teeth catch on her bottom lip.

Castle leans forward to whisper in her ear, using the curtain of her hair to hide his gaze as he flicks it to the man. The guy is watching them from above.

Creepy.

"Yep," he mutters, drawing back to touch his hand to her face. Oh, and that startles her. "Play it cool, Beckett."

She huffs at him and leans in closer, impossibly close. He can smell the sweetness of her body lotion, the sharp bite of vanilla in her perfume.

"My bad for not loving the idea of a potential sniper watching us," she growls, but her hands are slipping down his sides, slithering beneath his jacket. His breath hitches and she arches an eyebrow. "Be cool, Castle."

"I..." Her eyes are on his mouth. He swallows hard. "Am."

Fine. Two can play it this game. While trying to survive being murdered.

He checks the potential killer once more, still staring at them like a peeping tom.

"My idea just got a little dumber but also a little more foolproof."

"Well, what are you waiting-"

He curls his hand at the back of her neck, holding her wide eyes, alive with fear and surprise and heat sparking like gold around her pupils, and then she's letting him draw her in.

She fists her hands in the sides of his shirt, as if bracing herself, but her lips are soft and willing when he presses his mouth to hers. A small hum vibrates against his lips, a sigh that flutters like relief from her mouth, and he feels some of his restraint, his careful, tender restrictions when it comes to Kate Beckett, slip away.

Rick lifts his other hand to her face, cradling her cheek as he kisses her more boldly, the feather light brush of his lips over hers deepening into a firm caress, a slow drag of his tongue to the seam of her mouth.

Her hands move, snaking from beneath his jacket to traipse up his chest, clutch at his shirt collar. Her mouth is suddenly alive beneath his, her body like a wave eager to rise, and he holds her as she crashes into him.

When she moans, a dirty little purr, he forgets everything except the feeling of Kate Beckett.

He spins her, swallowing her gasp as her spine connects with the railing, soothing the clash with his palm spanning her lower back, crushing her hips against his.

"Fuck, Castle," she groans around his tongue, raking fingers through his hair. "He's gone, he's gone."

She's gasping against his lips, but he's slow to let her go, to tear his mouth away from hers.

"Good," is all he says, moving his lips to her jaw, scaling the harsh bone until he tastes the throbbing beat of her pulse beneath his open mouth.

She mewls and shoves at his chest, but her hand is clawing at the back of his neck, holding him to her - her body and mind at war with what to do with him.

"Uh guys," Esposito's voice rattles to life in her ear once more and she startles hard in his arms. "I think we may have figured some stuff out here. Meet us back at the Twelfth."

Kate sucks in a deep breath and radios back, "Noted. On our way."

He's impressed by how calm, how steady, her voice is when her body is trembling against him. He whines when she tries to shrug free of him, earning a fierce glare.

Hot. So hot now that he knows how fierce her mouth can be on his.

"Castle, we gotta go," she pushes, straightening against him, hands slack against his chest now.

He's not ready to go yet. Not when he spent all weekend building up the courage to ask her to his beach house in the Hamptons and all he gets in return are coy smiles and sidelong looks he doesn't understand.

"I was serious," he says, earning the flicker of her attention for a moment longer. "About coming with me to the Hamptons this weekend."

"Oh, Castle," she sighs, pressing a hand to her eyes. "Just because we - this doesn't mean-"

"You kiss Demming like that?"

Her hand drops and her eyes flare towards him.

"Rick," she warns.

"I knew it would be good, Beckett, but I had no idea you'd be so eager. The way your teeth tugged on my-"

"Stop it, that is not-"

"Almost like you've been waiting to kiss me as long as I've been waiting to kiss you," he husks, tilting his head, lowering his eyes to her mouth. God, he already wants to kiss her again. "So I gotta know, do you kiss Demming like that?"

"That's none of your business," she mutters, but the fight isn't in her anymore. She's distracted, her throat bobbing as she flicks her eyes up from his mouth. "You and I are-"

"What?" he interrupts, placing both hands on the railing, on either side of her hips. Trapping her. "What are we, Kate?"

Her lips purse, eyes blazing with indecision.

"I know what I want to be," he muses when she fails to respond. "Do you?"

He pushes off the railing, bends to snag the scarf he managed to shove from her neck, and turns to walk on ahead. The catch of her fingers in his jacket reels him back in, jerks him back into place against her. Kate's mouth on his is hot, certain, and he groans against her, kisses her back instinctively.

"No," she husks, lips moving over his as she speaks. "But maybe I'd be willing to figure it out. This weekend. On a beach."

His heart could explode with joy, catches on fire when she scrapes her teeth over his bottom lip. Oh, he may not survive a weekend with her.

"But first, we need to finish this case and I - I need to talk to Tom," she admits, drawing back just enough to knock her forehead against his in a kind of intimacy that has the heat between them simmering to warmth.

Castle nods, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, brush his thumb to her swollen lips.

"I can wait," he swears to her, taking a resolute step back. "But just know, I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about that - this."

Her cheeks flush, but she's smirking as she steals her scarf back. "Yeah, well, me either, Castle."

"Hurry," he murmurs, grabbing her hand and starting towards the steps that lead back into the park. "We need to get back to the precinct and solve this case. You'll need time to pack that swimsuit."

She hums as she fixes her scarf around her neck and slips past him.

"Who said anything about a swimsuit?"

#castle fanfiction #castle x beckett #castle #kate becket #richard castle #castle au #2x24 #prompt #anon #mine

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