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#i have to stop and stare for a minute because wow
arctic-hands · 1 year
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The subject came up today and I can't decide so I'm throwing it out there because I don't give a fuck and also having survived all of this kinda makes me sound like a badass
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syunikissed · 5 months
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Getting into the Stanley Parable when you realise the game is going to be 10 YEARS OLD feels weird sjshskshsk
Like a was essentially a kid when it came out so it makes sense why I didn’t get it but
WHY AM I SO AFFECTED BY IT NOW???? HOW??? WHAT????
I’m so playing this again on my birthday - maybe I’ll even try to get all the achievements but no - I’ll prob just try to annoy the Narrator
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kingkonoha · 6 months
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“What? You’re married? And you’re a dad?”
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Yuji finds out that 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 has a family. — same au as this ♡
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Yuji Itadori wanted to know more about the world’s strongest sorcerer, who he was lucky enough to have as his teacher.
The two of them walked along the sidewalk peacefully after completing a bit of training.
As Yuji devoured his blue popsicle, his wide eyes stared at the side of his teacher’s face.
Despite the black blindfold covering his ocean blue eyes, Gojo could feel his student’s eyes on him for two minutes straight.
“I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into something yet,” Gojo spoke up, breaking the silence as he smiled slightly. “Why are you staring at me? Something on my face?”
“No, I just had a question I wanted to ask you — can I?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.
“Don’t be silly, of course you can. What is it?”
“There’s a ring on your finger.”
Gojo was silent for a moment, but his amused grin widened. Eventually, he said, “that’s not a question, Yuji.”
“I know, I know, I just . . .” Yuji hesitated. After all, discussing such a personal topic with someone as superior as Satoru Gojo could have been disrespectful. Even so, he took his chances anyway. “Are you married?”
“I am.”
“Really?” Yuji smiled excitedly. He tossed his discolored popsicle stick in a nearby trashcan, and continued his late afternoon stroll with Gojo.
“Yeah, I’ve been married for eight years. Our anniversary is coming up pretty soon, actually. Think I’ll plan some sort of trip.”
“Wow, that’s really cool! Who are you married to? Do I know ‘em? What are they like?”
Due to his unwavering grin, Gojo felt a burning sensation in his light pink, blushed cheeks. Thinking about you had always resulted in him smiling so much, his face would hurt.
“You don’t know her, but Megumi does. Her name is Y/N, and she isn’t a sorcerer anymore, just an ordinary person who enjoys ordinary things, and I love that more than anything. Our daughter is-”
“What?” Yuji suddenly halted his footsteps.
“Hm? Something wrong?” Gojo questioned as he stopped walking, turning around to face the shocked boy.
“You have a daughter? Like an actual kid?” Yuji paused. “How come you never mentioned any of this before? How old is she? I wanna meet your family! Why have I never met them?”
“She‘s four,” Gojo laughed softly, and started to resume his walk along with Yuji. “Guess I had no idea you assumed I had no family, but it’s fine, you can meet them anytime you want. Wanna see a couple of pictures?”
“Yeah!” Flashing a bright smile, Yuji eagerly waited for Gojo to unlock his phone and scroll through his photos.
After only a couple of seconds — as it didn’t take the older man any time at all to find a photo of the two most beloved people in his life — Gojo handed his phone to Yuji, showing him a recent picture of the three of you hanging out at the park.
“Oh man, is that your wife? She’s really, really pretty, and your kid looks like the perfect combination of you both! Well, I guess that makes sense because you’re her parents, but it’s like fifty-fifty! She has your eyes, but Mrs. Gojo’s hair . . .” Yuji zoomed in and out of the photo as he rambled on, even taking it upon himself to search Gojo’s photos for even more pictures. “No way, is that Mrs. Gojo and Fushiguro? Fushiguro looks so young!”
“Yeah, he was around seven years old at the time. Me and Y/N were just dating then, but I knew I wanted to marry her. Best decision of my life.”
“When can I meet them?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.
“Why do you wanna meet them so badly?” Gojo reached out and grabbed his phone from Yuji, who had started to scroll a bit too far.
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Smiling, Yuji paused. “You’re kinda like family to me now, I guess. So, I wanna meet the people you cherish the most, ‘cause I wanna cherish them too.”
Gojo didn’t say another word. Not to Yuji, at least. Instead, he hummed with satisfaction at his student’s kind words, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found yours.
“Hi, baby,” Gojo greeted you over the phone, “Would you mind if I bring a student of mine over for dinner? He really wants to meet you . . . he’s not allergic to anything . . . Okay . . . That works for us . . . Tell my muffin that I’ll be home soon . . . I love you more, bye sweetheart.”
“Okay, we-”
“Great! Which way is your house? Which way? Is it this way?” Yuji excitedly started to run off in no particular direction, and Gojo couldn’t help but laugh.
While Yuji said he simply wanted to cherish Gojo’s family, Gojo knew that it was a bit deeper than that. After all, as far as Yuji was concerned, he had no one. He craved the domestic nature of a loving family. He was all alone.
Once they made it to Gojo’s home, Yuji excitedly greeted you with a hug as if he had known you his entire life.
He adored your food, laughing and chatting at the dinner table.
He adored your home, carefully admiring your decorations and asking plenty of questions.
He was also kind enough to help out with the dishes, and play with dolls with your daughter afterwards, using silly voices as he truly got into the role.
And, later on, when he saw Gojo grab your grinning face and shower it with kisses, and his little girl happily run up to him as he picked her up, tickling her as she giggled, Yuji silently hoped that one day, he too would have a family just as loving.
But, he didn’t have to observe the happy family from a distance much longer, as, suddenly, you and Gojo waved the boy over, and wrapped your arms around him in a silly, loving, group hug.
And he felt loved.
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— PART III —
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just-jordie-things · 4 months
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just like my crush - fushiguro megumi
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word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, reader is doped up from anesthesia summary: confessing that you have a crush on someone really isn't that hard. all it takes is anesthesia clouding your judgment. a/n: brought to you by my lovely nanami flowershop anon's beautiful brain !!!
___
Injuries in this line work wasn’t unusual.  Someone was always occupying Shoko’s little infirmary and keeping her busy.  Nasty gashes, sprained wrists, broken bones- it was practically a part of the job description.  No, it wasn’t pretty, but at least with a master of the Reverse Cursed Technique on site, the mishaps that came with assignments never lasted too long.
Because of this expectation, Megumi had never been put in a position where he worried over someone’s well being after an exorcism gone awry.  He’d had life threatening wounds get healed more times than he could count on both hands, hell, Yuji lost a hand and got that back! 
So why did he feel sick to his stomach when she took a bad hit during an assignment? Why did his throat close up too tight for him to explain the situation to the manager on the assignment? Or to Ieiri when he got her back to campus? Why was there a cold sweat racing down his spine, but his insides felt like they were on fire? 
Despite all of Ieiri’s insisting that (y/n) was fine, that she’d gotten here just in time, that she was healed and would wake up at any time- likely without the memory of what happened- and that she would still be fine then… Megumi didn’t tear himself out of that room in the infirmary even once.  
When she does wake up- two days and a couple hours later- he doesn’t look too good.  He’d pale and he’s been bouncing his leg for so long it’s gone numb, but the relief that washes over him brings some color back to his face.
Her eyelashes flicker about a few times before she finally opens her eyes, but his attention is drawn to the way her hand twitches above the stark white sheets.
“Hey,” He murmurs, as quiet as he can stand to speak.  He didn’t want to startle her, and he thinks that if she were to flinch back at him, he’d flinch too.  “(y/n), you awake?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything right away.
Then her eyes finally find him, and with a hazy gloss over her blown pupils, she smiles.  It’s slow, and so, so impaired, but it’s pretty nonetheless.
“Oh, wow,” 
Her voice is strained, likely from not having been used for a couple days, but the light and breezy way in which she speaks is enough for him to know that her anesthetics haven’t worn off.  The stoner-like smile also tipped him off pretty well, but Megumi’s sure now.
“You know who you look like?” 
It’s not the question Megumi’s expecting, and his confusion is obvious in the way a tiny knot forms between his brows.  He would’ve thought  ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’ would be in order, but maybe the anesthesia was more on top of her than he would’ve thought, so he hums in response and waits for her explanation.  Surely she’ll have something silly to say, it wouldn’t be the first time she called him a sea urchin for his messy hair.
“You look jus’ like my crush” (y/n) half-slurs back.  She tilted her head in his direction, trying to get a better look at him from where she was laying, but the rest of her body felt too heavy to move.
Megumi’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself a small laugh comes out.  Confusion, humor, and disbelief blend into the overwhelming relief in knowing that Ieiri hadn’t been lying to him to protect his feelings.  (y/n) would be completely fine.
Maybe a little bit high, but still, completely fine.
Her shoulders shake in the slightest when she laughs in response to his own little chuckle, delighted purely by his reaction.
“I’m serious,” She mumbles out, eyes falling heavy for a minute the longer she stares at him.  “And it’s a compliment too, b’cause he’s, like, really cute”  “I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone” Megumi hums, leaning his elbows against the edge of her cot so that he could prop his chin in his hands.  Amusement flickers in his eyes when her expression noticeably shifts.  Her eyes widen and her lips part but no words come out.  Was he actually making her nervous? Who the hell did he look like in her eyes right now that had her reacting like this? 
Megumi can’t recall a time she’d ever talked to him about crushing on anyone.  Nothing of the sort, not even a hint.  And he’d definitely never seen the ruthless sorcerer appear so… 
Well, she looked like a girl with a crush.  A blush was forming on her cheeks the longer he held eye contact with her, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched and betrayed her as she tried to bite back a smile.
“Y-yeah, duh,” She stammers back at him with a sassy roll of her eyes.  Megumi’s quick to push his hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter.  “The point of a crush is it’s secret” 
“So you’re not gonna tell me then?” He asks curiously.
She probably didn’t know it, but (y/l/n) (y/n) was the only person in the world that got to see the playful side of him.  It was hard not to act on his intrigue, though.  It was too entertaining to see her in this state… and the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage made him ache to know more.
But she shakes her head against her pillow, sealing her lips shut to further prove her point.  She’s still smiling, though, and she hasn’t torn her eyes off of his since she woke up.
“How’re you feeling, anyways?” Megumi decides to steer the topic back to one of more importance.  “Anything hurt? Can I get you anything-?” 
“Even your eyes are pretty like his,” She interrupts him, and then sighs as though this was a large inconvenience for her.  “You must be related,” She says matter-of-factly.
He hopes that when the drugs wear off she doesn’t remember this moment, because Megumi knows his face is as red as a tomato with how fiery his skin feels.  A nervous laugh bubbles out of him before he could choke it down, and her whole face lights up in response.
“You must not get compliments often, huh?” She teases in a slow drawl.
“I… I guess not,” He says, followed by more nervous laughter that happens against his will.  “But thank you, (y/n).  That’s very… kind” 
He’s painfully awkward, and he knows that as soon as he leaves this room he’s going to overthink this entire interaction, but for now he tries to bask in the warmth that sparks from knowing she thinks he has pretty eyes.  Or at least, she does when she’s so doped up she can’t quite focus on a conversation.
But at least she's obviously not in any pain.  Megumi’s worries begin to melt away, but that might just be the work of her flattery.
“You’re welcome,” She grins back at him, but she just as soon furrows her brows and regards him curiously.  Even after staring at him so shamelessly, she suddenly doesn’t appear to recognize him one bit.  “I thought Megumi only had a sister, though”
It comes out in a mumble, and he’s sure that she’s talking to herself in her deluded state, but the rush of heat that floods his chest and shoots up his neck is nearly too much to bear.
She actually didn’t recognize him this whole time? Was she talking about him this whole time? Was the flattery not a drug-induced misconception and actually-?
Before he can settle on a question to ask her to clear his confusion, she’s settling back into her pillow and her eyes are falling shut.  Megumi opens his mouth, ready to force out the first thing that comes to mind, but she drifts off almost immediately.  Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements.
It felt like a cruel prank.
Now he was left sitting and gaping at her unconscious form.  His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing again, and Megumi thinks he might be even more anxious for her to wake up this time.
He decides then and there that when she does, and when she’s of sound mind again, he’ll ask her about it.  Because if she really did have a crush on him he’d have to finally get over his ridiculous anxiety and make a move. ___
A week after making a full recovery, (y/n) comes to the decision that if she wants Megumi to talk to her, she’ll just have to corner him.
She’s not sure why he hasn’t been talking to her- hence her cornering plan- but ever since her last assignment had gone awry and she’d been put on a minor hold, he’d been dodging her.  And sure, Megumi wasn’t always the most sociable guy, but he was a friend and even if he didn’t feel like hanging out, he wouldn’t completely ghost her like this.
Of course she’d tried asking Yuji and Nobara about it, but they were a dead end.  They’d been just as surprised as she was that he’d been avoiding her.
I thought you were best friends, Yuji had frowned at the idea of a falling out between his two friends that he cared about so much.
Maybe he realized you have a crush on him and pussied out, Nobara had cackled at the scenario, not feeling an ounce of worry that this weird bump wouldn’t get resolved.
Needless to say, (y/n) was quick to steer her investigation far away from them, before the blabbermouths could do what they do best and blab around the wrong people.
She corners him while doing laundry, of all things.
“Hey,” 
And when she walks into the room while he’s tossing his freshly washed laundry into the dryer, Megumi hits his head on the lid when he swivels around in shock to see her there.
“Oh god, are you alright?” 
“I’m fine- it’s fine,” He answers all too quickly, before she’s even finished her question.  “I’m almost done with the washing machine” 
(y/n) can’t help but chuckle a little bit, seeing as she wasn’t currently holding a basket of laundry, but Megumi’s already back to filling up the dryer.  It appears every piece of clothing he tosses in is monochrome- mostly black, but a few gray pieces here and there.  This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is a bit funny.
“I actually was looking for you,” She tells him, leaning against the doorframe.  It’s half casual, and half to block his only escape.  Megumi responds with a small hum, still putting all of his focus on moving the laundry.  “Are you upset with me?” 
The question has him swiveling again, finally giving her his undivided attention.  It’s a bit unnerving, the way he straightens up and goes rigid as he stares back at her in bewilderment.  She wants to be annoyed that he has the audacity to look confused when he was the one that had been avoiding her for days, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt 
“Upset? No.  No of course not” He answers, and his words are so certain, that she believes him straight away.  But the small bit of truth doesn’t provide much relief.
“Then how come you’ve been dodging me?” She asks, unable to help her frown.  What other reason could there be? If he’s not mad at something, why would act so flaky?
“I haven’t been dodging you” 
“That’s a lie” 
“It’s not?” 
“It is,” She crosses her arms defensively.  “You haven’t been answering your phone and you always have some excuse to not talk to me.  Did I do something?” 
“Not really” 
He winces as soon as the answer leaves his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to get so careless- but it also wasn’t like him to avoid her.  Really, he was falling apart at the seams and trying quite desperately to appear as though everything was normal.  
It wasn’t working.  (y/n) could see the panic in his eyes as clear as day.  Not to mention the way his lips twitched like he was holding back further explanation.  She narrows her eyes as she studies him carefully.
“Not really?” She repeats his lame answer.  “So sort of? So I did do something?” 
Megumi’s certain that she chose to stand in the doorway so he couldn’t make an easy escape.  Would it be immature to summon the rabbits? 
“(y/n) it’s- it’s fine.  It’s me, alright?” He’s not very convincing.
“So you did something?” Another question he doesn’t want to answer.
“No- just- not really- it was just-” He stammers, and then groans, tilting his head back and glaring at the fluorescent light hanging over him.  
He recalls the way he’d sworn to himself that he’d talk to her about her little anesthesia-induced confession, and kicks himself now for cowering out of it.  Megumi never really ran away from a challenge, even when he knew he was in over his head.  But something about standing before her now and explaining how she’d inadvertently confessed to having a crush on him makes his heart beat out of sync and his throat go dry.
“Look I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” (y/n) sighs, giving up on interrogating him so heavily.  “So just… whatever it is, can we talk about it?” 
And he swoons, actually swoons.  His knees physically feel weak and he has to resist the urge to let all of his muscles relax and sink towards the ground.  It was so sweet, so considerate of her to want to mend the nonexistent conflict between them.  Megumi didn’t think it was possible to like her more than he already did, but she had a knack for proving him wrong.
So with an anxious breath, he thinks screw it and just lets it out.
“Do you remember waking up and talking to me in the infirmary?”
Her brows furrow, giving him her answer, and then her features soften with realization.
“You visited me in the infirmary?” She asks, almost in a whisper.  No, she didn’t remember, and no one had told her she’d had any visitors during her short stay there.
Megumi nods his head.
“Yeah, I… I stayed till you woke up.  And you did, for a couple minutes anyways, but you were pretty out of it.  Anesthesia and all” He explains.
She tries to rack her memory for any hazy glimpse of talking to Megumi in Shoko’s clinic, but nothing comes to mind.  She feels a little guilty now, having forgotten so easily.
“Okay…” She trails off, waiting for the rest of his explanation.  “So… something happened then?” 
Megumi hesitates, his expression twisted in mild displeasure, like he just stubbed his toe or has to deliver an oral presentation.  (y/n) tries to be patient, she really does, but the longer he draws this out the larger the pit in her stomach grows.
“Yeah,” The word comes out through a heavy breath, and he pauses for just a moment longer before admitting the last detail.  “You… you sort of confessed that you have a crush on me” 
“Oh,” 
Relief settles into her bones, and then a spike of panic.
“Oh” 
Her eyes are widening and her arms wrap tighter around herself, fingers digging into the sides of her ribs as if she could possibly ground herself with her anxiety reaching an all time high.
For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t this anxious when that Grade One tried to take a massive bite out of her body.
“You were really out of it, though,” Megumi says quickly.  “You were just… high.  You probably just couldn’t see or think straight-” 
“No, I wasn’t just high,” She cuts him off with surprising calmness in her voice, and a short shake of her head.  “I do.  Have a crush on you, I mean.  I didn’t… obviously I didn’t intend to tell you that, but, I guess high-me can’t keep a secret, so…” 
She trails off with a bashful giggle that would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t already filled to the brim with embarrassment.  Megumi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything.  The corner of his mouth twitches a few times too, and still, he’s standing in bewildered silence before her.
It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he was eighty-five percent sure that she’d meant what she said while she was still under the influence of the anesthetics, but that fifteen percent of uncertainty was his paranoia getting the best of him.  But now she was of sound mind, dead sober, and dead serious as she stared at him and awaited some sort of reaction.
No real reaction came, unless you counted the drumming of his fingers against his side, slow at first, but picking up speed the longer they both stood there and waited for the other to say something.
Megumi knows he should say something, and probably something along the lines of; well that’s a relief because I’m actually crushing on you so hard I don’t know what to do with myself… but unfortunately, he really didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Do I even want to know how badly I embarrassed myself?” (y/n) breaks the silence with a nervous but curious smile.
“You said I looked just like your crush,” He explained, heat flooding to his face as he recalled the other things she said.  “It was actually the first thing you said when you woke up,” 
She has to laugh at that a little, to which Megumi feels some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.  The tension in the room also starts to thin out, much to his relief.
“Then you went on about how cute your crush was.  And when I tried to ask how you were feeling, after, you know, surgery and all that, you ignored me and said…” He rubs the back of his neck, growing shy as he realized he was rambling and the subject matter already had his heart racing.
“Oh god… what?” (y/n) gasps, eyes widening, hoping she didn’t let out some dirty thought that she worked very hard to keep in the back of her mind.
“You said I had pretty eyes, and then you sorta let it slip that I was your crush, so I guess you didn’t realize you were talking to me the whole time… and then you passed back out” 
She’s laughing again, but this time she covers her face with her hands in a pitiful attempt to hide her blush until it goes away.  A small groan dies at the back of her throat.  The second hand embarrassment from her past-inebriated-self was just too much.
After all this time she's done so well at keeping her feelings under wraps, of never letting it be known with a slip of tongue or lingering touch, only to tell him so brazenly while in a hospital cot… it was ridiculous.
“God… I’m so sorry, that’s… wow, that’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done” She starts off looking at him, but ends up muttering to herself and looks away, still overwhelmed by the mortification of it all.
A small smile graces Megumi’s face, and in a moment of being true to his word, he musters up the courage to speak up before she could walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.
“It was more cute than humiliating,” He tells her, and she peeks back up at him in soft surprise.  “Maybe just a little embarrassing, just a little… but… still cute” His voice gets softer the longer she looks at him and he starts to lose the confidence he started out so strong with, but he still holds her gaze, hoping that she’ll know he means it.
“Cute?” She repeats in quiet disbelief.  Megumi nods back at her with absolute certainty and sincerity.
He gives into another bout of a confidence boost and takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between them.  (y/n) practically scrambles to straighten up away from the doorframe, her shoulders squaring and her eyes widening as she watches him move towards her.
“And for what it’s worth, I think you have pretty eyes, too,” 
It’s quieter than he intends, but his words are effective in replacing the nervous tension in the room with something much more palpable.  The electricity buzzing between them was so thick they were practically choking on it.
(y/n) smiles, slow at first, processing the sudden compliment, and then all once.  Every inch of her skin warmed from the sweet words, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt flattery like this before.  She’s never taken a compliment so to heart, never known that she was going to go to sleep that night playing it over and over in her head.
Megumi’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, admiring the way she lights up with delight before him, and then he opens his mouth again.
“They look just like my crush’s” 
Her brows furrow and despite that feeling of embarrassment spiking in her chest again, the corner of her lips curl into a smirk that gives into a smile almost immediately after.  Megumi’s clearly amused by this reaction, laughing to himself like he was so proud of his own tease.
“That’s so corny” She mutters, before stepping away from the doorway and closing the last bit of distance between them.
Despite his nerves he anticipates her movements, large hands finding purchase on her hips and practically yanking her the rest of the way that it takes to have her body against his.  There’s no extra time for words before their lips crash fast.  The kiss is surprisingly tender for how rushed their movements were, but it had them both melting into the other right away.
Her hands are gentle as they smooth over his shoulders before wrapping lightly at the nape of his neck.  Her fingers poke into the dark strands of hair that hang there, and when she curls a few locks between her index and middle finger, he presses his lips against hers with a little more fervor.
Even once they part from one another, neither one goes very far.  Gasping for air with lips still brushing each other’s, noses bumping, and hands still holding on tight all in the name of not putting an inch of distance between them.
Still no words are exchanged as they share a look before both glancing at the open doorway behind them.  It doesn’t take verbal communication for Megumi to reach behind her to grab the door by the handle and swing it shut.  The only sound that fills the room is the white noise buzzing from the dryer cycle, and the soft giggle that’s immediately suppressed by warm, inviting lips pressing against hers again.
___
a/n: thank u again my amazing nanami flowershop anon for this really fun idea. also i just love playful megumi. he's so cute n shy <3
xoxo ~ jordie
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actually-safer-to-kiss · 11 months
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Dinner Time
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Summary: Reader makes Spencer his first homemade dinner after getting out of prison, and they both realize he's got some adjusting to do.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Content warnings: Eating, mentions of weight loss, hurt Spencer, ambiguous ending
Word count: 1k
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Spencer sat at the small table in your kitchen. You set it up with funky-patterned napkins, an extra big spoon, and a used candle lit in the middle; the whole shebang. You prepared his serving of your vegetable soup, the meal he requested to celebrate his arrival home. “Are you comfortable?” You ask as you hover over the stove.
He nods and picks up his napkin, observing the pattern and weight. “Where did you get these?”
“Your mom found them when we were shopping. She said they reminded her of your socks. Isn’t that sweet?”
He blew air through his nose before saying “Wow.” He rubbed his thumb along it, following the vivid stripes. You didn’t want to tell him how she teared up when she spotted them. How she held the set close to her chest made you feel sorry that she remembered without help.
“She took it as a sign you were coming home.” Half true. More like you convinced her it was. She asked you to buy them for that reason, to celebrate. “And now here we are.” You beamed as you say the words.
“That’s wonderful.” He looked up at you and smiled. You saw it in your peripheral as you opened a pack of oyster crackers. You knew he wanted to thank you for making time for her. He wanted to, but you insisted the thank yous were enough after he said it the fifth time in 24 hours. You flashed him a brief grin as a muted response, and he appreciated it.
“Alright,” You held the bowl carefully, mistakenly filling it to the brim. Due to the sheer joy of having him home, safe, and innocent (in the eyes of the law), you almost didn’t notice he had lost weight. The first time you saw his spine after getting out of the shower, you didn't even think it was possible for him. “Extra potatoes, per your request, mon amour.” You emphasize your terrible French accent which makes him chuckle.
“Merci, mon amour.” His flawless accent almost ruined the joke.
“Okay, show off, so happy you're home.” You sneered, and his smile was even wider. You grab your own bowl and sit by his side. His elbows somehow naturally find their way to the table, boxing in his soup like he was cornering prey. Spoon in hand, he dipped in the hefty bowl. Then he shoveled in some of those extra potato chunks with some tomato-y broth. Hungry, you thought, as he leaned over the bowl, steam gliding over his rough stubble. He took a second and third bite, despite his mouth being nearly stuffed.
You didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t want to imagine the food he had to eat or meals he might have skipped because of poor quality (or other reasons). As he chewed hastily, for a moment, it gave you hope he'd gain weight quickly.
But then he reached out for his water to drink like he needed to soothe something too spicy.
Or something too hot.
“Honey?”
Bite four, five, and six. He chewed.
“Spencer.”
“Hm?” Bite seven, eight —
You put a hand on his arm and Spencer’s head immediately turned to you. It made you pull back, not touch him. His face was red and his mouth hung open, similar to a dog sticking its tongue out to cool off. “Spencer. You can let it cool.”
He swallowed, not chewing enough, and it pained him. “I can’t. I want to finish before bed.” His tongue barely touched the roof of his mouth as he spoke.
“Are you that tired?”
“No.” His eyebrows furrowed at the question, looking just as confused as you. “We only have 30 minutes for dinn—” And somehow his face of realization was even more upsetting to witness. There's a silence, brief but heavy as his whole face fell and he covered his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry.” He sniffles.
“It’s not your fault.”
"I'll… take my time." He leans on his elbow and looks down at his meal, staring, waiting for the steam to stop. It was seconds later that his eyes were lined with tears again.
You were afraid to ask the question. “How’s your mouth?”
“It hurts.” He bites his lip as tears trickle.
You drop your spoon and scoot your chair closer to his. You ask him to sit up straight and drink water. Once he’s done that, drinking as much (or as little) as he can tolerate, you gently press his face into your shoulder. Tears collect on your skin, but you keep him close and encourage him to let it out.
And he does. His chest caves with every sob he's locked away for two months. His arms wrap around your waist, the first time he's touched you since he’s been home, apart from the delightfully suffocating hug you trapped each other in when he was released. And for a moment, you’re hit with the reality that the Spencer you’re holding has changed. His survival instincts are still active, you're just now noticing it.
You still hold him as he heaves. You rub his back to let him know you’re still here, but you stare at the blank wall in front of you. Your head is spinning, running through therapists to call and books to read that could help you. To help Spencer. Because that’s what he needs.
Spencer pulls away for a minute to look over his soup.
“It’s still there.” You say, and wipe his tears with your thumbs. “No one’s taking it, I promise.”
“It’s going to get cold.”
“I’ll heat it up again, don’t worry.”
Spencer looks down at you as you hold his face. The dark circles around his reddened eyes were prominent, and you brushed the mess of curls off his forehead. Tiredness isn’t enough. He’s scared. From what he’s seen or become, you don’t know. But his stubble pokes your skin and you realize that you don’t know what to do. As you look at the man you love, you wonder how much you can do to help. You hope you can help.
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yulin-pop · 4 months
Text
⤷ ✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲
order 84 | Scenario | Cater, Jade, Idia, Silver | gender neutral
❀ NOTE: PRETTY BOYS AHHHH, I wonder if all the characters are canonically attractive or are some characters like Ace considered mid?
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so…”
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➺ Cater Diamond
There’s a reason why Cater has so many followers on MagiCam. It’s because he has a cute face!! You’re not sure if he’s aware but he just has to be.
He does these tiny things like brushing the hair out of his face or slightly turning his head when he laughs. You didn’t really realize how pretty he was for a while. Sure, you got nervous just staring at him but now you can’t even look him in the eye.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so hot…”
He blinked for a moment. He was in the middle of drying his hair when you said that. All he could think is “Oh wow?” He noticed that you’ve been staring at him so intensely for the past few days— maybe weeks.
But you said it straight to his face? He thought he misheard you at first but you definitely said that.
“Wow, I didn’t know you fancied me that way MC!” Admittedly it did fluster him, he was flattering in the best way possible.
“Don’t get it twisted, it’s not in the way you’re thinking!”
You’re in denial.
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⊱Jade Leech
He has that certain look to him. It’s different than Floyd even though they’re identical twins. Maybe he’s not aware how MMMMMMM he is but he has to.
Just the way he looks at you can get you weak on the floor. His eyes… You noticed how his eyes squint ever so slightly when he’s focused. He’s calm under any circumstances yet so amusing in his own way. He’s the type of person you’d want to follow around just for the fun of it. And in his own way… he’s just so damn cute too.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so cute…”
He quickly turned his head to stare at you. He’s not sure what you mean or why. It was so out of the blue. You’ve been stalking him for a while. Of course he knew and allowed it and treated it as if it was normal.
“Pardon? In what way am I… cute?” He turned his head curiously.
“Cute!” You said again.
He wasn’t sure how to feel, the last time someone called him cute was when he was a little kid. Most people would think of Jade as alluring or handsome, cute is something he hasn’t heard in a while.
“If you’re talking about my appearance, you must think Floyd is cute as well.” He says while smiling at you.
“Eh I guess so. But he’s not as cute as you.”
He moved closer, “Tell me, what else do you think of me?”
You put your hands out in front of you, as if to say stop. “Why do you have to be so close..?!”
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*ੈ Idia Shroud
It’s already canon that Idia is very attractive from the character archives book and the ghost marriage event while being complete oblivious. He’s charming in his own way.
It’s hard to believe he’s so oblivious to his good looks. His smile is nerdy yet… attractive. His personality is rough but that’s what makes him so fun. Teasing someone like him is hilarious.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so hot.”
He immediately cranked his head your direction with a baffled expression. He shook his head and let out an irritated squeal.
“Wh-who says stuff like that to somebody’s face?! Online I get it but this is IRL! Why does someone like you even think that?”
He just gets really flustered and ends up rambling about how it doesn’t make sense. But when he looks back on it, it gives him an ego boost for a few minutes and then he’s embarrassed because— it makes him happy that you think of him that way.
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-ˋˏ Silver
Unintentional or not, Silver has been seeing you around a lot. He doesn’t think much of it since you’re in the same school so it’s not anything crazy but when he does see you, you’re always staring at him with this… funny expression.
Did he do something wrong? He tries to wave at you when he can but as soon as he turns his head you run away or start acting like you weren’t the one staring first.
But what were you suppose to do? Whenever you saw him, all your attention was diverted to his gentle yet sharp expression. His resting face was already so deadly, you couldn’t imagine if he were to smile.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so pretty…”
He froze with a puzzled look on his face. This was one of the times you actually started a conversation with him instead of staring and running away and you say something so flirtatious?
“Ah…” He blinked as you gazed into his eyes nervously, “Thank you I suppose.” But in what way was he suppose to take that?
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wonijinjin · 5 months
Text
seventeen’s hiphop unit when their s/o falls asleep on them
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author’s note: was feeling tired, wrote it quickly hehe. let me know if you guys want the other unit versions aswell! the vocal unit version of the fic is available here.
synopsis: what the title says
word count: 0.7k | genre: pure fluffiest fluff | pairings: hiphop unit x gn! reader | warnings: mention of food in wonwoo’s
you were laying in bed with cheol, pillowtalk being the routine of most of your nights, just casually discussing how you spent your day. “then i had to scold mingyu because he wasn’t listening and we couldn’t make progress regarding the lyrics.” he explained, voice low and quiet, waiting for your usual giggles about his members being silly as always, but silence was your only reply. he looked down at you on his chest, seeing your eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a bit of drool coming out of it, right onto his shirt. “seriously? man, my shirt is gonna get soaked.” he sulked jokingly, knowing fully well you couldn’t hear him, otherwise it would’ve earned a betrayed whine from you. “you are lucky you’re cute, i will let it slide this time.” he giggled while trying his best to keep his voice down as much a possible. he rubbed your back while looking head over heels at you, easing you to dreamland even more so, whispering. “good night my love, see you in the morning. i love you.”
wonwoo knew you were tired the moment he saw you when he arrived at home, so he figured that it would be a matter of time when you were gonna stop fighting sleep and let your eyelids get heavy. he was editing the photos he took on his walk earlier, you snuggled up into his side, watching him do his magic in different editing softvers on his laptop. “these pictures are so pretty wonwoo.” you said sleepily. he smiled softly while looking into your eyes. “thank you sweetheart, but you are way prettier.” his cheesy line normally would’ve made you burst out laughing, but as he expected you were already half asleep, eyes closing for longer amounts of time every minute. a moment later he sensed how your head felt heavier on his torso; he kissed your forehead and patted the crown of your hair, smiling sheepishly to himself seeing you rest at last. “my sweet baby.” he said while shutting his laptop down, holding you closer to him.
“wow, the special effects are amazing!” you commented to which mingyu hummed in agreement. you and mingyu were watching a movie, your head in his lap. you were invested in the plot, but it was a bit late in the evening. in fact it was so late that mingyu had actually kind of dozed off for a few minutes, resting his eyes after hours of work with woozi in his studio, the screen’s hue taking a turn on his optic nerves. when he opened his eyes he did not expect to find you asleep, especially since you chose the movie; it was one of your favourite director’s new films. he took a moment to just stare at your face shamelessly, feeling like he was falling in love all over again; your cheeks were squished into his thigh, nose scrunching up from time to time thanks to a few strands of hair tickling it. you were just so adorable in his eyes. he brushed the hair out of your face, stroking your cheeks gently. “i am so lucky to have you. i will always protect you, my darling.” he muttered, draping a blanket that was resting on the couch next to him over your slumbering form.
you were in the practice room with vernon since he had to work overtime with their newest comeback approaching, you offering to stay until the end so the two of you could go home together. he knew you were exhausted from all the exams you had to take, and even tried to talk you out of staying, but you insisted, getting into a comfortable position on the floor, head resting against the wall. he sat down next to you, drinking a bottle of water while you put your head on his shoulder. “i should’ve urged you to go home. look at you, so tired and in an uncomfortable room!” he whined, feeling extremely guilty about the situation. you didn’t reply to which he raised his head a little, upon doing so seeing your relaxed face, soft snores and breaths escaping your mouth. he slowly lowered your head into his lap, but not before putting his hoodie on it, making up for the lack of a soft pillow. “i should take a break anyways. sweet dreams, babe.” he smiled, gently kissing your lips.
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bookyeom · 2 months
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pairing: s.coups x reader word count: 4.8k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, people being bad friends and treating reader badly :(, a tiny bit of poor self-esteem on reader's end but not much, seungcheol gets a lil mad at one point but it's nothing crazy
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Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.
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pov by ariana grande
i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too i'd love to see me from your point of view cause nobody ever loved me like you do
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You feel like you’ve been subject to an intervention.
You’d come over to pick up a sweater you’d left at Jeonghan’s, and now you’re sitting on his couch while both him and Soonyoung stare at you, arms crossed. You have the distinct feeling that you’re being judged. 
“You’re here early,” Jeonghan finally says, and you immediately don’t like the tone of his voice. 
“Yeah,” you say, slowly. “Junseok couldn’t make it last minute, so I just came straight here.” You don’t miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Soonyoung, and you inwardly groan in preparation when you realize what’s about to come.
”Wow, he canceled?” Soonyoung says, sarcastic as ever.
“We’re so surprised,” Jeonghan follows, and you roll your eyes. 
“Things happen,” you try, but your friends don’t even flinch. 
“Yeah, they always seem to happen with him in particular, especially when you guys have plans. Poor guy.” 
“Come on. Stop.”
Jeonghan smacks you on the arm, and you yelp. “He’s such a dick, Y/N. Break up with him.”
“We’re not dating! I’ve told you a million times that we’re just friends.”
“Does the fact that you’re just friends justify how he treats you?” Soonyoung asks, and that hits you, hard. Your shoulders slump, and Soonyoung sits next to you on the couch.
“He’s just forgetful,” you murmur, but even as you say the words, you don’t really believe them yourself. 
“Hoshi is the most scatterbrained person I’ve ever met,” Jeonghan points out, “and even he remembers plans.”
The man in question appears offended for a brief moment, before quickly brightening up at the end of Jeonghan’s statement. “Yeah,” he nods solemnly in agreement. “I sometimes forget my sentences half way through. If I can remember making plans with my friends, so can he.”
You remain silent. You know they’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“You know who else never cancels on you, at least not without a solid explanation?”
You know where this is going, but you’re definitely going to pretend that you don’t. “Joshua? Seokmin? Love those guys. Truly the most loyal companions and —“
“Seungcheol not only sticks to plans, he also makes them with you first,” Jeonghan continues on, interrupting you, not even batting an eye as he ignores your pouting. 
“And he’d probably rather poke his own eye out than cancel on you,” Hoshi supplies.
“He’s my friend,” you protest weakly. “Do you mean you guys wouldn’t gauge an eye out on my behalf?”
“No,” the two men opposite you answer at the same time, and you sink back into your seat with a huff. 
“DK would,” you mumble.
“Yeah, but — bless his stupid ass — he’d do that for any of us,” Hoshi points out. “Seungcheol, on the other hand, thought it was funny to lock me out of the bathroom when I was hungover and needed to throw up last Saturday morning.” 
“Okay, but Cheol told me that you spilled a bottle of vodka all over his new laptop while you were drunk and tried to cover it up,” you counter. Hoshi opens his mouth to retort, but Jeonghan cuts him off. 
“Last week, he canceled lunch with Mingyu and I just because he didn’t want to get out of bed.”
“He had an exam the night before!” you protest, quickly jumping to Seungcheol’s defense in his absence. “For a really hard class, too! He was telling me about it when he came over to study.” The two men stare back at you pointedly, and you feel your cheeks flush. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jeonghan simply smiles, and it unsettles you. “Just that I’ve known Seungcheol for three years and I’ve never, not even once, seen him willingly study with someone else. He always talks about needing to focus alone.”
You feel a blush creeping up your neck, and try valiantly to hide it with your turtleneck sweater. “Maybe you guys are just annoying.”
“Or maybe he’s in love with you,” Soonyoung pipes up, a wide grin on his face, and you let out a whine. 
“Stop,” you plead as the two of them high-five. 
“You and Seungcheol are so annoying. If we’re talking about good ‘friends’,” Jeonghan puts quotation marks in the air around the word as he says it, “he should be at the top of your list. That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.”
”Are you saying you don't care about me?”
You’re trying to change the subject, and Jeonghan knows it. He glares at you. “We care about you enough to try and knock some sense into you, don’t we?”
“I’m leaving,” you announce, pushing yourself off the sofa, sweater in hand. 
“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out as you pass through the threshold. “Can you take this, too?” He appears a second later as you’re tying your shoes, holding out a pair of socks. You raise an eyebrow in question. “They’re Cheol’s,” he explains. “I can almost guarantee you’re going to see him before I do.”
“How do you know that, Jeonghan?” 
“When are you guys hanging out next?”
You squint at your friend for a moment, before you begrudgingly take the socks from his hand. “Tomorrow morning,” you murmur. You pointedly ignore Jeonghan’s laughter as you all but slam the door behind you. 
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“How was yesterday?”
“Hm?” You hum through a mouthful of food, glancing back up at Seungcheol. 
You’re sitting across from him at your favourite cafe. It had been silent since your food arrived and you’d both shut up to shovel food into your mouths, so you’re surprised when he speaks up. You also have no idea what he’s referring to.
“You hung out with Junseok last night, right?” Seungcheol asks, and you wince.
“Oh,” you manage. “No, we didn’t end up getting together.”
Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, clicking his tongue as he brings his coffee mug up to his lips. “Asshole.”
“Cheol.”
“What? He’s an asshole.” He sets his coffee down again, elbows on the table as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Did he cancel, or did you?”
You look back down at your food. “He did.”
Seungcheol simply nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the back of the booth. You’re reminded again of just how big his arms have gotten lately, and you try to shake the thoughts before your gaze lingers just a bit too long. “Of course he did.”
“He’s trying,” you mumble miserably, knowing it sounds lame, even to yourself. “He’s getting better at following through.”
The man in front of you raises his eyebrows. “Is he?”
“You’re being a dick.”
“I’m just telling the truth.” Seungcheol shrugs. “Why do you even like him?”
“I don’t like him like that anymore,” you mutter. “I haven't for a while. It was a dumb crush, Cheol, you know that. We’re friends now.”
Seungcheol scoffs. “Okay, well, I’m your friend too. And as your friend, I’m telling you – he’s an asshole.”
This time, you don’t offer a rebuttal. You fall silent, pushing the eggs around on your plate. You can feel Seungcheol watching you, and you can practically hear his defenses lowering the longer you stay quiet. Usually, you can keep up with his banter and sass, but you know he can tell that you’re actually upset now. You’re tired of arguing. Deep down, you know he’s right, and you don’t have it in you to meet his gaze.
“Somebody who cares about you wouldn’t do stuff like that, friend or otherwise,” he finally speaks again, his voice softer now. “I know it sucks… but sometimes, it really is that simple.”
“Yeah,” is all you say. 
“Hey.”
You make yourself look at him again, offering him as much of a smile as you can. 
He smiles back, soft. “People care about you, okay?” 
You nod. The longer he looks at you, the more you start to feel that electric current, that low buzzing that seems to take over your entire body whenever Seungcheol is close. Jeonghan’s words linger in the back of your mind as he finally looks away, breaking the tension between the two of you.
That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.
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You hate how downright… silly you feel.
”He promised he’d make it this time,” you sniffle, and Seokmin squeezes you tighter into his side. “He even booked the tickets. Why would you book the tickets and then cancel on the day of?”
“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jeonghan calls out from his kitchen. 
“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Seungcheol agrees. He’s leaning against the doorframe that separates the kitchen from the living room, and you don’t know why it hurts a little that he hasn’t tried to comfort you at all since you walked in. His comment only serves to upset you more, and you glare at him.
“Are you happy?”
Seungcheol blinks in surprise, turning back to you from where he was watching Jeonghan in the kitchen. “What?”
”Are you happy that you’re right? Do you feel good about it, Cheol?” You can feel Seokmin pat your shoulder comfortingly, but it doesn’t help — you’re annoyed now.
”What are you even talking about, Y/N?”
“You’re right — he’s an asshole. You’re right. You love being right, don’t you?”
The silence is almost palpable. Jeonghan has stopped moving in the kitchen, Seokmin is frozen next to you, and you can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Seokmin slowly moves to stand up, heading into the kitchen with Jeonghan, leaving the two of you alone.
“It’s not about being right,” Seungcheol finally says, and you avoid his gaze when he joins you on the couch. “All I care about is the fact that he should treat you better.”
Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument, and you can feel your shoulders sag. You know that he’s right — and you hate it. 
“I know,” you admit, and all of your misplaced anger drains from you in seconds. “I know he should,” you repeat, feeling your remaining defenses start to crumble. “So why won’t he?” 
You say the last words so quietly that you’re surprised anyone hears you, but you know that at least Seungcheol has when his shoulders fall. You hear him inhale a breath, but you speak again before he gets a chance to say anything.
“I just don’t understand why I’m not worth the effort.” You can hear your voice crack, followed by silence, and then — you break. The tears are falling before you can stop them. You feel the couch shift as Seungcheol turns. Whatever hesitation he’d had about comforting you before seems to ease up as his hand finds your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. You’re grateful, but you still can’t look at him.
“What about the people who do treat you well?” His tone is softer now, but you can tell he’s still upset by the tone of his voice. You don’t have a chance to answer before he speaks again. “I could tell you a million times how great I think you are, I could make a thousand plans to hang out, I could go on and on about how much I like being around you… but nothing will change until you figure out a way to believe me. I—“ He clears his throat. “We— care about you so much. All of us. We should be the people that matter.”
“But what did I do wrong? With him?”
Seungcheol’s hand on your thigh is gone in a flash. He stands up, and you miss his warmth immediately. “I don’t know what else to say,” he says, voice low. He’s angry, you can tell, but he would never admit to it. 
You want to apologize, desperate to bring him back to you, but you’re frozen. 
“I’m going to head out.” He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look back at you. Jeonghan and Seokmin appear from the kitchen, but no one says anything except for a ‘drive safe’, and then he’s gone.
It’s silent for a moment, and then you say, “I fucked up.”
To your surprise, Jeonghan doesn’t scold or tease you. He doesn’t even agree. Seokmin disappears back into the kitchen to tend to the food Jeonghan was cooking, but Jeonghan himself joins you on the couch with a sigh.
“Listen,” Jeonghan starts. “You and I are similar — we always tend to focus on the people that don’t care. We want to be loved, so when someone doesn’t put in as much effort as us, we feel like we have to figure out why. We want to know what we did wrong, even though we didn’t do anything wrong at all. We forget that there are tons of people that love us a lot already. I love you, for example.” Jeonghan pinches your thigh affectionately, before he juts his thumb in the direction of your front door. ”Or what about that guy? The one who just left my apartment, pissed, because you let someone make you question your worth? He cares about you without thinking twice. For him, it’s effortless. You’re worth it, and you’ve never had to prove that to us. You just are, and always have been.”
You’re officially crying now. You know you’ve really upset Seungcheol, and you know your friends are all right. You know it, you know they love you and you love them, but why don’t you believe that you deserve it?
“I should go home,” you say softly, but your hand squeezes Jeonghan’s in acknowledgement, in a quiet thanks.
“I won’t say anything else except for this,” Jeonghan says gently. “I know you think Cheol is worth it, too. Being with someone doesn’t always have to feel like effort.” He shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s effortless.”
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You spend the next week thinking, and thinking, and thinking, until the ball drops and you finally just do it. You block Junseok on every social media, you delete his number, and you’re proud of yourself for it. You don’t message your friends back very much throughout the week. Seungcheol in particular has been radio silent, but you suppose you deserve that. You don’t reach out first, instead taking the time to process everything that’s happened, to process everything you’re feeling — and not just about Junseok. 
You know that Seungcheol has always meant a little bit more to you than anyone else. Now, you’re wondering why you’ve never done anything about it — and you’re also wondering just how long you’ve been blind to the fact that Seungcheol most likely, almost definitely, likes you back. 
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Y/N [5:36pm]: early Galentines dinner at my place this Sunday at 7?
You receive an almost immediate thumbs up from Seokmin and Soonyoung.
Hannie [5:43pm]: yaaaaas
Wonu [5:44pm]: might be a bit late but I’ll be there 
Kwanie [5:52pm]: NOOOOO I’m busy :(
Kwanie [5:52pm]: galentines?? WITHOUT ME????? UNBELIEVABLE
You smile at that, texting Seungkwan a private apology in a separate chat. Your heart jumps in your chest when you receive another notification, and you’re filled with relief so quick and intense that it feels like you’ve been doused in water.
Cheollie [5:58pm]: I’ll be there. Cheollie [5:58pm]: need help setting up?
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You hug Seungcheol the second he walks through your door. He reciprocates, and you feel relieved and anxious and warm and fuzzy all at once.
Now, a half hour has passed, and neither of you have mentioned what happened the week before. He tells you about his week at work, and you hate the small talk but you know it’s all just the road back into the familiar ease of your friendship — so you participate. It’s only when you’ve finished getting ready for dinner, Valentine’s Day decorations and lights all strung up and ready to go, that he speaks up again. You’re preparing tea for the two of you when he catches you entirely off guard. 
“Will Junseok be joining us tonight?”
You can feel your shoulders tense up. You can tell that it pains him to say it, but you also know he’s the brave one for even bringing it up. You take a deep breath. 
“He’s not coming tonight, or any other night, actually.”
Seungcheol seems surprised as he hands you a mug from the cupboard before grabbing one for himself. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
You shrug. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”
Seungcheol’s eyes follow you as you move across the kitchen to the kettle, pausing before speaking again. “I can tell.”
You turn back to him as you click the kettle on to boil, an eyebrow raised in his direction. “Was that sarcastic?”
The man smiles as he shakes his head. “No, I mean it. You seem happier than...” He trails off, but you both know what he’s thinking: than when I saw you last.
“I am,” you reply honestly, and it’s silent again for a moment before you both start to speak at the same time.
“Listen, I–”
“Hey, Cheol–”
You can feel warmth start to spread through you when he begins to laugh at your clumsiness — it had only been a week, but you’d missed that. You’d missed him. 
“You first,” you offer, and he nods.
“I’m sorry that I was frustrated when I left the other day,” he says, and you tilt your head in surprise at his apology. He shrugs before continuing, “I shouldn’t have left like that… but in my defense, I didn’t know you’d disappear for a week.” He’s joking, and you smile a bit at that.
“I’m the one who should be sorry, Cheol.” He joins you at the counter and you begin to pour hot water into both mugs, eyes focused on the task at hand, but you can feel him next to you. It suddenly all feels so intimate, the way you’re making tea for him the way he likes it without him saying a word, the way he watches you move around in your kitchen as if he does it every day. 
You turn to hand him his tea and when your eyes meet his, you feel a flush begin to creep up your neck to find him already looking back.
“I mean it,” you say softly, and he hums in response, eyebrows raising as he takes a sip and waits for you to continue. “I really am sorry for not being around the last couple of weeks.” You hop up onto the counter, legs dangling off of it as you wait for your tea to cool. 
Seungcheol sets his mug down on the counter and sends you a soft smile, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It’s okay. I get it.”
You nod, looking down, and pick at a thread on your jeans. “Thanks,” you say quietly, but he knows you’re not finished speaking. His eyes don’t leave your face, and his fingers still grip onto the handle of his mug as he waits, ever patient, for you to gather your thoughts. “I’m still sorry, though. I was just so overwhelmed and didn’t want to deal with it, so I let everything build up to a breaking point.”
“I promise it’s okay,” Seungcheol repeats. He’s being genuine — you can hear it in his voice. Your eyes meet his again, and you almost wish they hadn’t because you have more to say, and you might lose all of the courage left in you if he keeps looking at you like that. 
“Just… Just let me explain,” you request quietly, and he nods again. “I… I guess I just needed a bit of time to myself. To figure out what’s important to me.” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. “To figure out who is important to me.” 
You can feel your cheeks flush as you finish. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you this whole time, and you think your heart is in your throat now as he continues to gaze at you.
“Yeah?” 
Does he understand what you’re implying? Your eyes move to land on the dark strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. You suddenly feel a desperate need to reach out, to brush his hair back, to touch it. To touch him. Would he let you? Does he want that, too?
“Yeah,” you finally repeat, your quiet voice matching his as you meet his gaze again.
He moves then, slowly, almost as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off, shifting closer and reaching across your legs to set his mug in the sink. Your breath catches in your throat as he straightens back up in front of you, his now-empty hand falling to the counter beside your thigh. He’s standing right in front of you, caging you in between his arms, and you can’t look away.
“And what’s the verdict?” Comes his question, dark eyes searching yours.
“That I should start to focus more on the people that show me they care. Because those are the ones that I care about the most, too.” 
The tension in the air is palpable. 
Then his fingers gently, tentatively, brush against yours where they rest on the counter. He doesn’t do anything more, testing the waters, and it takes everything in you not to shiver. His gaze falls to your mouth, and you hold your breath — then he looks down and away from you, his eyes squeezing shut, and the moment is lost.
“Cheol?” You say carefully, desperate to get him to look at you again. He hums in response, but he doesn’t look up. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you feel like if you don’t say what you want to say right now, you never will. “Thank you.”
That seems to get his attention as he lifts his head to meet your gaze once more. You can tell he’s surprised as he murmurs, “For what?”
“For being here.” You’re not sure if that’s what you meant to say, or how you meant to say it, because it sounds far too simple for how you feel about the man in front of you. And then he smiles.
“Of course,” comes his reply. You watch as his smile grows and he says, “I was told there would be free beer.”
You blink at him for a moment, processing — and then you let out a single, surprised laugh. You feel some sense of relief wash over you as the tension between you breaks a little, as everything around you seems to soften. You feel a little bit like you’re glowing from the inside out, warm and fuzzy like the pink heart-shaped lights strung up around your apartment, and you wonder if he feels it, too. You’re starting to think that maybe he does.
“Cheol,” you say, and you offhandedly wonder why you’re saying his name so much. He grows serious again, but the lighter air between the pair of you gives you just enough confidence to continue. “I don’t just mean today,” you elaborate, your voice soft. You feel vulnerable now, even more than before, your eyes falling to your lap. “You’re always there when I need you, and even sometimes when I think that I don’t.” Seungcheol laughs quietly at that. “It means a lot to me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “You mean a lot to me.” 
When you look up, you find him gazing back, and you abruptly realize that he’s moved even closer. The fingers that were playing with yours move up to your waist, and your entire body reacts to the warmth of his palm. 
“Is this okay?” He murmurs, a quiet question that threatens to overwhelm you. He’s making sure that you want this just as much as he does. It sends a shiver down your spine.
“More than okay,” you affirm. His mouth lifts at the sides, dimples just peeking through. Again, you think that there’s something more that you wanted to say, but your breath is caught in your throat and he’s just so… beautiful.
“I…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyebrows furrow. You’re desperate to be even closer as you wait, closing the final space between you to press your forehead to his. “It was so hard not talking to you this week,” is what finally he says, and though he hasn’t said much, you think you understand. 
I missed you. That’s what he’s trying to say.
You desperately want to communicate to him that you won’t leave him like that again, that you don’t plan on going anywhere, that the last seven days away from him sucked just as much for you. In a bold move, you ease your legs apart, leaving room for him to stand between them. Your calf moves to hook behind his knee, tapping against him in a silent request for him to come even closer. You hope he understands — that you want him close like this, that you missed him more than you think he realizes.
He seems to understand you just fine.
He easily fills the space you made for him, his chest nearly flush against yours now. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze, and you inhale a shaky breath as he brushes his nose against yours. Your hands have found his shoulders, grasping onto the material of his sweater, and his eyes fall shut.
The same, pesky strand of hair is falling into his eyes again, and you’re pretty certain that given your current position, you’re allowed to do something about it now. So you do, lifting a hand to gently brush it back and over his forehead, gaze following the movement. His eyes open at the touch, and a whisper of your name brings you back to him. 
The moment you lock eyes again, he’s leaning forward to capture your mouth with his. 
Your hand falls from his forehead to his bicep as you gasp into the kiss, as you try and process. When you do, when you realize what’s finally happening, you can’t get enough. You’re pulling him in so close that you feel a bit feral, your fingers pressing into his arms, his back, one hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You can tell he’s not faring much better than you as he chases your lips relentlessly, as he pulls you into him so close that you can’t feel anything but him. 
When you finally need to breathe, your hands find his face. You pull back, eyes taking him in as he lets out a breath, like he can’t believe what’s just happened, either. He looks at you, and you look back, and you have no idea what to say or do — until suddenly, you’re beaming. You can’t help it as you pull him back in for one long, slow kiss, grin wide against his mouth, your hand moving again to the back of his neck. He’s smiling, too — your favourite smile of his, the one that’s completely, entirely genuine — and when he pulls away only to bury his face in your neck this time, you can feel the smile against your skin.
“Fuck, I’m in love with you.”
It’s quiet, whispered against your skin, but you hear it. Your fingers pause their trail up and down his back. You move his face back up to look at him, your eyes searching his, desperate to know if you heard him right. “Cheol?”
He kisses you again, once, twice, so slow and soft that it makes your head spin. “I love you,” he says, breathless against your lips. He waits for you as you let it sink in, his hands firm on your waist, eyes boring into yours so you know that he means it. 
You believe him.
“I love you too,” you whisper, foreheads moving to rest against each other once more. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”
He pulls you into his chest, and you can feel just how fast his heart is beating. You’re certain that yours isn’t doing much better.
“I do have a question though,” he says after a few moments pass, and you hum, urging him to go on. “You said you were going to spend more time with the people that care about you, right?” 
You move back to look at him and tilt your head in question. “Yes?”
“I’m guessing that includes Jeonghan and Hoshi and the boys,” Seungcheol muses, and you nod, your eyebrows raising. Then he pouts, and you sputter out a laugh.
“What’s that face for? They’re your friends, too!”
Seungcheol huffs. “Yes, but if you meant that you’re going to kiss them like that, too, then –”
You clap a hand over his mouth. “Ew!”
The man in front of you has a shit-eating grin on his face now, and you remove your hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“Trust me,” you shudder, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about kissing.”
“You’ve thought about it, huh?”
You look up at him, smacking his chest. “Shut up!”
“Don’t worry, I’ve thought about it too.” When he moves to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Speaking of our friends,” you tease, “they’re literally going to be here any second. You have permission to kiss me as much as you want to later, okay?”
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A/N: here it is! The first of our Thirteen Valentines. I have to be honest, I got a little carried away with this one... I'll put out a full disclaimer that not all of the fics will be this long! Seungcheol has a solid grip on me and I couldn't do anything about it, you guys.
Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)
Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda
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dilatorywriting · 1 year
Text
Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]
Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k
Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.
🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]
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“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.
He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror. 
“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”
You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.
‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.
‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.
Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.
‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’
‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’
So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.
Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.
“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.
“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.
“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.
“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”
“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”
“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.
“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”
The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.
“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”
“Two weeks?!” you wailed.
Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”
“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.
“Ace!”
The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.
“That is acceptable.”
Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.
“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”
You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.
“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.  
There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.
“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”
“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”
‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’
“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.
Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.
“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”
Your life flashed before your eyes.
“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.
“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”
.
.
The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.
“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.
He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.
You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.
He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.
There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.  
“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”
He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.
“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”
The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.
However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.
You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…
An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.
“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”
He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.  
You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.
“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"
.
.
The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.
“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.
He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”
Oh for fucks sake.
Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.
“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”
He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”
“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”
He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.
“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”
He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.
The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.
But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.
“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”
He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.
“You don’t find it pleasing.”
Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—
“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.
“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”
The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.
“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.
Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.
“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.
“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.
You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.
“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”
“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”
You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.
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jihyoruri · 4 months
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can we get a wow!yn and winter oneshot? they’re so intriguing to me I just wanna see how their relationship was😭
I LIKE YOU — kim minjeong x reader
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warnings: wow!yn, idol au, fluff, (you can also find more wow!yn things on my masterlist)
the sound of the pounding rain of outside hits the windows of the dorm it over takes the sound of the movie coming from the tv in front of the three girls who are sprawled on the couch.
“she’s so stupid.” yizhuo says towards the girl on the tv, jimin and minjeong nodding in agreement, minjeong opens her mouth to add onto the younger girls comment but the sound of jiggling keys cuts her off.
the three girls turn their heads to see aeri at the door way taking her keys out of the lock, minjeong was about to shout that they’re watching the movie that she recommended but it dies in her throat when she sees the tall figure behind her member and she’s instantly nervous.
they watched as the two girls walked fully into the dorm, “I brought a gift guys!” aeri, “every girls dream.” she says wrapping an arm around yn’s waist, presenting the taller girl like she was on sale.
she wasn’t on sale actually, and minjeong so wanted to say it when she saw the way jimin’s gaze lingered on yn.
“hey yn,” yizhuo said towards the girl with a smile, who returns her smile, they’ve always had a nice friendship, definitely nowhere near close as yn and aeri but they’ve always been cool with each other, it’s probably because they’re the same age.
yn and jimin just give each a nod of acknowledgment, like always.
minjeong feels her face heat up when yn turns her gaze towards her, she awkwardly waves at yn who just laughs at the older girl.
“I think you wore your last batch of clothes in my room the last time you were here.” aeri says to yn, she was about to offer to lend you some but yn cuts her off.
“I should have some clothes in minjeongs.” yn says nonchalantly, causing everyone to pause and look at minjeong who looks in her lap in embarrassment.
“oh?” aeri says looking at minjeong and then at yn and yizhuo lets out a laugh while jimin just looks at her phone.
“yup.” yn says before playfully kissing aeri’s cheek and walking towards minjeongs room.
a couple minutes go by and everyone stares at minjeong waiting for the girl to explain but all she does is cough awkwardly and gestures towards her room before getting up quickly and walking towards her room.
she hears aeri yell a “we’re talking about this later.” before she closes her room door.
she turns around to find yn laying on her bed in more comfortable clothes with her phone in her face, she lets out a sigh and walks over to the girl and plops right on top of her, earning a grunt from yn.
“you didn’t have to do all of that.” she says to yn pointing her finger at the girls face, causing yn to bite it earning a squeal from the aespa member.
“do what?” yn aks putting her phone down and bringing one of her her hands to rest behind her head looking down at the girl laying on her, “I needed my clothes.”
“I know…” she mumbles, “but now they’re gonna interrogate me.” she whines earning a laugh from yn.
“and I’ll be there to witness it.” yn jokes, “can’t wait.”
minjeong rolls her before sitting up and adjusting herself to straddle yn, “are you sleeping over today?”
yn shakes her head no as minjeong plays with the star ring on her finger, “not today, I gotta help hyunseo with her homework.”
minjeong lets out a playful aww earning a an embarrassed groan from yn, “you’re such a big sister.” she says poking the girls cheeks.
“stop.” yn whines, moving her heated face away as minjeong laughs.
after the laughter dies down she grabs yn’s hand again and plays with the star ring, “yn?”
“hm?”
“I like you a lot.”
there’s silence before yn grabs winter’s necklace and mutters a soft “I know.” before bringing the girl down to meet her lips.
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corroded-hellfire · 8 days
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Ok I feel like As You Wish!Eddie would be obsessed with that part in Enter Sandman where like he says the lines like “Now I lay me down to sleep” just to have his kids or reader repeat them back in like the innocent voice
Eddie lives his life by Metallica songs and teaches his children to do the same
Words: 1.1k
[As You Wish masterlist]
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“Alright pipsqueak,” Eddie says, gently tugging on the toe of Eliza’s purple footie pajamas as he passes where she sits between her brothers on the couch. “Bedtime.”
“No!” Eliza says, quickly rolling over a hundred eighty degrees so she’s laying on her tummy and buries her face in the couch cushion. 
“Yes,” Eddie says. He scoops the remote up from the coffee table and presses the off button, effectively ending Shrek 2. “Come on. Go brush your teeth, little girl.”
Luke stares at his father and gestures to the television, as if to say we were watching that too, man. Rolling his eyes, Eddie tosses the remote into his younger son’s lap.
“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says.
With a huff to show her father her displeasure, the three-year-old pushes herself off the couch and disappears down the hallway. Luke flicks the television back on and the last thing Eddie hears as he follows his daughter down the hallway is his teenage sons laughing at Puss in Boots coughing up a hairball. 
“Ah, ah, with the toothpaste.” Your voice floats out of the bathroom into the hallway, making Eddie chuckle as he passes and keeps walking into Eliza’s room. 
Deciding to mess with the feisty little firecracker, Eddie snatches up her favorite stuffed pig and lounges on his daughter’s too-short bed. It’s only a few minutes later that Eliza’s heavy tread can be heard coming down the hallway, the heavy footsteps baffling for such a small girl. The moment she crosses the threshold into her room, Eliza’s face scrunches up and her tiny shoulders rise up toward her ears.
“Hey!”
“Is for horses,” Eddie answers.
You’re two steps behind Eliza and the moment you see Eddie on the bed you chuckle to yourself. The Little Terror is about to be unleashed. 
“My bed!” Eliza launches herself up on top of her father, causing him to let out an oof as she lands on his stomach. “My Penelope!” Small hands go to grab the stuffed pig but Eddie’s quicker, moving the plush animal behind his head to use as a pillow.
“Wow, kid, you really need to learn to share,” Eddie says.
A long exhale blows from Eliza’s nose, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a growl. Scooting her body up Eddie’s chest, your daughter rests her forehead against her father’s, giving him the most intimidating look she can manage. She probably doesn’t realize that to Eddie it now just looks like she has one giant eye, though. Hardly intimidating–even for the toddler. 
“Did you give night-night kisses?” Eddie asks.
“Penelope,” is Eliza’s only reply.
“I’ll give you Penelope the Pig back once you give everyone goodnight kisses.”
Sitting up straight, Eliza eyes her father skeptically. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she must decide to believe him because she slides from his chest and lands on her carpet with a thud. 
“Ryaaaaaan! Luuuuuuke!” Her calls echo down the hall as she runs, the shouts accompanied by the loud thumping of her feet as she picks up speed. 
“And you wonder why she’s a menace,” you say to your husband, tilting your head at him as you lean against the door jamb. 
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re implying,” your husband answers, giving you the most innocent doe eyes he can manage. 
Before you can come up with a response, Eliza rushes past you, back into the room. She skids to a stop and spins on her covered feet to face you.
“Kiss, Mama!”
Happy to oblige her, you scoop her up in your arms and press kisses all over her face. Her giggles are infectious as she tries to dodge your lips, protesting that this is an overload of kisses. She gives you a quick squeeze around the neck and you can’t help but notice how she’s feeling heavier in your arms these days. It makes a part of you sad, remembering when she was small enough to lay in the crook of your elbow. 
Eliza wriggles out of your grip and makes her way back over to her bed. Her lower lip juts out in a pout and she bats her dark eyelashes at her dad. 
“Can I have Penelope now pleeeeease?” she asks in her sweetest voice.
“I guess so.” 
Eddie pushes himself off the child’s bed and hands his daughter the stuffed pig. He presses a kiss to her head and tucks her in as she snuggles beneath her blankets. 
“Okay, ready for prayers?” Eddie asks.
“Ready.” Eliza snuggles back against her pillow, clasps her hands together in front of her, and closes her eyes.
“Now, I lay me down to sleep.”
“Now, I lay me down to sleep,” your daughter repeats, making you smile.
“Pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
“Pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
“If I die before I wake.”
“If I die before I wake.”
“Pray the Lord my soul to take.”
“Pray the Lord my soul to take.”
“Good job.” Eddie leans down and kisses her. “Goodnight, Sweet Pea.”
“Nighty night, Daddy.”
Quietly, you slip from the room, Eddie right behind you. He flips the light switch, turning off her overhead light and activating her Mulan nightlight. Gently, he closes the door behind him, and the two of you pad down the hall towards your room.
“You think Wayne will ever catch on that’s from a Metallica song and not your devotion to God?” you ask, a smirk dancing on your lips. 
“Not if someone keeps her mouth shut,” Eddie says, grabbing your sides and digging his fingers into them. Giggles erupt from you as you push his hands away and stumble into your shared room.
“Hush little baby, don't say a word,” you recite the next line of the song, walking backwards towards your bed. “And never mind that noise you heard.”
Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you as he slowly saunters forward, coming closer to you.
“It's just the beasts under your bed,” you continue. “In your closet, in your head.”
“Yeah, well,” Eddie says, smirk on his face growing, “you’re about to have a beast in your bed.”
A soft yelp shoots out of you with a bout of laughter as Eddie tackles you down on the bed. He climbs on top of you and presses kisses all over your face, just like you’d done to Eliza. 
“Oof, she’s right,” you say. “Too much.”
“Oh, really?” Eddie teases. He scoffs and pretends to climb off of you. 
With a roll of your eyes, your fingers grip into the front of his t-shirt and you pull him back down on top of you.
“Get back here, altar boy.”
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skzdarlings · 1 year
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07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin
masterlist.
sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -
pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.
-
It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 
After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 
You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 
You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.
There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    
“My life is a joke,” you say. 
“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”
He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 
“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 
You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   
“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     
“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”
“Funny.”
“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”
“I know that.”
“And you’re the other cow.”
“I got it, Seungmin.”
“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   
This fucking guy.  
Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 
You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 
Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 
You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 
You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 
Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 
Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 
Minho dangled the keys in your face.  
“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”
You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 
Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 
You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.
“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”
He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 
“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”
He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.
“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”
“You sound curious.” 
You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 
“Oh, you are curious,” you say.
“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”
“Proudly.”
“Wow.”
You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 
“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”
“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 
His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 
“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”
“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 
“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 
“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”
“Why not? It’s not real.”
“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”
“You can?”  He pokes it.    
“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     
“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 
“I did very well for myself, thanks.”
He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 
“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 
“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 
“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 
You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  
Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.
“I have an idea,” you say. 
“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”
“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 
“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”
“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”
“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”
You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 
“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   
“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”
“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”
“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.
“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.
“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”
“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 
“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”
“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 
You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.
“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”
“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 
“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”
“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”
“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    
“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”
“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 
“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 
You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 
“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 
“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 
“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”
He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 
“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.
“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”
“That was different.”
“How?”  
“Because you suck,” he says. 
He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 
You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 
You lift an eyebrow. 
“Shut up,” he says.
“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.
“I can hear your ugly face.”
“That’s a you problem.”
He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  
Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  
Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.
It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 
“What the hell was that?” he asks. 
You let go of his hips immediately. 
“Nothing,” you say.
He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 
“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 
“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 
“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 
“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 
“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 
You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  
His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.
You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”
“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 
“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”
“I’m normally quiet.”
“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  
“Why don’t you moan?” 
“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 
He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 
“Well?” you say.  
He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 
Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.
It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 
He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.
Ah, you think.  Fuck. 
You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 
You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 
“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.
He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 
“So are you,” he says.
“Mine’s not real,” you say.  
“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 
“You know what I mean, smartass.”  
“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 
That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 
“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 
He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 
Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 
You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 
He balks at it. 
“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 
Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 
“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”
“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 
“Not really the making love type,” you say. 
“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 
Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 
For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 
“Jesus fucking—” you start.
He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 
“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”
“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”
“Got it.” 
Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 
“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 
It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.
“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 
Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.
“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 
He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 
“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 
Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 
“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 
He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 
“How do I know you’re not lying?” 
You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 
“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 
Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 
“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 
You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 
“Slippers first,” he says.  
He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 
“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 
“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 
You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 
“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 
Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 
He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 
He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 
“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 
“S-surprised?” he asks. 
“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 
He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 
His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 
“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”
“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 
He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 
You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  
Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 
Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 
You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 
Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  
You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 
“I won,” he says.
“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.
“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”
“Oh my god.” 
Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 
You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.
Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 
Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 
You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 
“Told you,” you say. 
“Don’t rub it in.”
“Don’t be a sore loser.”
He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 
Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 
“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 
“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”
You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 
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ghostssweetgirl · 11 months
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Hello, I hope you are well. 141 men+Konig and Roach.Alex. How do they react when they accidentally see female reader in the city for the first time? And just like that. The reader is shopping at a grocery store. And men do not know her. because they never saw the reader's face. but the reader recognizes them because she has seen their faces before and the reader says. What's up? (name) I'll send you a photo of the reader's gaze. so the reader works on the same team as them but right now it's a free day
Have a nice day :)
Hey there! I really like this request <3
TF141 + König + Roach + Alex Reacting to Seeing the Reader's Face (in public)
warnings: cursing, other than that, none. they think you're pretty 😍
Simon 'Ghost' Riley
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Simon happened to be shopping in your town. No, he didn't do it on purpose. It was just on his way home.
You were shopping as well. You lived in a big city, so it wasn't unusual for you to be unmasked when doing your business. No one here knew you. You were on the pet food aisle, glancing over the ingredients of a specific brand until you suddenly felt a familiar presence walking by along the outside of the aisle. You look to your side and... spot Ghost.
Why was he here? Not like, why was he shopping, but why would he come to your city? It was too many people for his liking.
You watch him walk by, he doesn't give you a second glance as he goes about his business.
You set the bag of food down as you abandon your cart, walking fast to catch up to him. "Ghost!"
He heard a familiar voice call behind him, but as he turned around, he didn't know who he was looking at and how they knew his callsign. "What's up?" you asked, tilting your head at him. He stopped in his tracks, looking you up and down. "Bloody hell are you?"
You nervously laughed. "Y/N...?"
He was in disbelief. Wow, you were quite beautiful. He didn't think you'd be ugly, but my goodness, he was swept off his feet. "Fuckin' hell, kid," he rasped, chuckling nervously, you could tell.
"Sorry, I forgot you've never seen my face."
"Forgot to warn me you were quite stunning, too, darlin'."
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish
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He heard about this big grocery store from a friend, deciding to check it out. It was also the one you were at, trying to find some new clothes.
In your own little world, you weren't paying attention to the fact you were absent-mindedly taking over the aisle as you were folding a shirt back up.
"Excuse me," a voice called from behind you.
"Sorry," you muttered, moving out of the way. The man gave you a polite smile, and as you made eye contact, your pupils dilated, recognizing your teammate, Soap. "What's up?" you asked.
"Oh, jus' shoppin', nothin' much." You looked into his cart, curious. Some beer, socks, small food items. Also hygiene products. He watched you nose into what he's buying, wondering who the hell this random (pretty) lady is.
You stifle a laugh, looking at the soap in his cart. "Soap." He shook his head, softly chuckling. "Wha's so funny about that?"
You teased him. "Soap! For Soap... Come on, do you not get it?"
For a minute, he recognized the voice but couldn't put two and two together. Wondered if you were who he thought you were.
After awkward staring, you throw your arms up playfully. "Soap! You must not... recognize me...?" "Y/N...?" you continued.
He just figured it out, the way you emphasized his name. "Y/N... Shite, yer... beautiful," he muttered. "Didn't think I'd ever see your face, lass."
Captain 'John' Price
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He was just leaving, checking out with his cart full of his selected items. Damn this long line, he'd be here a while.
You were walking in with an empty cart, eyes glued to the front of you. Wanting to get in, and get out. You take notice of the long line. Sighing in annoyance, you go about your business.
You make your way up to the front, expecting the line to have made progress. Nope, still long. Some person had 3 full carts, and was giving one of the cashiers a hard time. Not to mention it was one of the rush hours of business. You look around to see a bunch of grumpy, tired faces. It was all just regular people, until you saw your captain. You smiled, hesitant to say hi to him, not wanting to be a bother.
"Hey, Captain Price!" you sang. He fixed his gaze onto you precisely, questionably. "What's up?"
He met you halfway in between the queues. "How in the bloody hell do you know who I am?" his voice was low.
"Because... I'm in the task force, silly," you laughed. "Y/N."
"Oh," he said plainly, his body visibly relieved. "Well, kid. Near freaked me out, some pretty lady knowin' my rank."
"Sorry," you blushed. "I'll leave you be, then? See you at work."
"Nice to see ya, y/n," his bright blue eyes beamed as they crinkled from his wide smile.
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You were nearly finished up shopping, when you walked next to Gaz.
You didn't notice him at first, but when you did, he smiled at you with a polite nod as if you were a stranger.
You smiled back. "What's up, Garrick?"
He squinted his eyes at you, wondering how he knew you.
"I'm sorry, remind me of who you are?"
"Y/N, silly," you quipped.
"Oh," he sighed, looking over the features of your face. "Nice seein' you without the mask."
You almost blush, reaching up to soothe your unmasked face. "Thanks. Definitely didn't expect to see you... here."
"It was just on my way."
"Yeah, well, I hope you're enjoying your time off," you smiled.
"You, too, y/n," he smiled back, walking off but making sure to get one last look at you before you walked off, memorizing your face.
König
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It's been such a long day already, and here you were stuck at a busy grocery store in your city. You usually stopped by here every so often, but didn't think the store would be busy when you came here today.
You were pretty much just looking at useless stuff at this point, to pass time by as the queues were not moving. You sigh as you grew tired of looking at this nonsense. Seeing some queues move, you finally hopped in one. You were in a hurry, and that was obvious, but so was someone else.
You almost bumped carts with this man, and before you go to apologize, you hear his thick German accent being the first one to apologize profusely. "I... am so sorry! You go ahead, ma'am," he muttered.
"König! I am so sorry!" you giggled. "I was in a hurry, I didn't see you there! What's up?" He stuttered, hands nearly shaking at you knowing his name. "I... was just shopping here."
"Are... you okay?"
"Ja... yes, I just... sorry, I don't think I know you..."
"Y/N! I don't have my mask on..." you rubbed your cheek. "Sorry to confuse you."
He was taken aback by how beautiful you were. He was already an anxious man, finally being able to put a voice to a very pretty face felt quite nice, but finding out just how gorgeous you were was making his heart slam against his ribcage.
"I-sorry," you could hear his nervousness, it was admittedly very cute. "You are very pretty, Maus."
Roach
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You had gone to the store to get some alcohol, it was one of your days off and you wanted to enjoy yourself.
You went to the aisle, and started browsing.
You grabbed a few bottles of wine, and an extra bottle of liquor for another day and started walking out of the aisle to leave.
Until someone came around the corner.
You smiled as you spotted your teammate, Roach.
"Roach! Hey, what's up?"
He made eye contact with you, and you could tell he was confused.
"Sorry, do I know you?"
"It's Y/N! Sorry, don't have my mask on," you apologized, blushing.
"Oh. I was wondering how some beautiful woman knew me," he laughed. "It's nice to see you."
"Thanks, Roach," you smirked. You bid your goodbyes as you walked off, not seeing him look back at you once more.
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You were stumped on a product, deciding if you should buy it. You started looking around for products that seemed popular, and went with the correct brand.
You were on your way to the front, when you spotted someone you knew. Alex. He was either in a hurry, or just wanted to get to where he was going, but you followed him.
You about lost him, but finally caught up.
"Alex! Hey!"
He looked around at a few people before he looked at you.
"What's up?" you smiled at him.
He stammered his words. "Hi. Who're you? How do I know you?"
You laughed as you playfully rolled your eyes. "Y/N."
"Damn, nice to see your face, lil lady," he chuckled, eyes wide at your beauty.
"Aw, thanks," you replied. "Enjoying your time off?"
"You know it." You both did some small talk before you had to make your way out. You waved goodbye at him, and he returned it with a polite smile, watching you as you walked away.
"Damn, she's beautiful," he whispered under his breath.
--
A/N - Hope this was good! I've never written for Roach or Alex, so I don't know if I wrote them out well, but thank you for this request and sorry it took a while to get finished! <3
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lovely-keii · 3 months
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hihi can i request sakusa, kuroo and iwazumi with an s/o who has really red cheeks THANK YOUUU
with an s/o with really red cheeks
characters: sakusa kiyoomi, kuroo tetsurou, iwaizumi hajime
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SAKUSA KIYOOMI
your first encounter, he stays far, far away from you. you think he hates you until komori hands you fever medicine. “this is from my cousin. the gloomy one with the curly hair. says to get better soon.” you’re confused til it hits you, your cheeks. you laugh and turn to sakusa who’s standing at the other corner of the room. he realizes his heart fucked. “oh, my cheeks are normally this red.”
when you get together, he’s honestly so crazy about it. he thinks your cheeks look so good with a laugh from you. “smile please.” “…one more.” “another one.” “just take a picture, omi. my cheeks are hurting from all the smiling you make me do.” “but i already have one.”
god forbid you do any physical activity and you look the slightest bit sporty. the red cheeks with the athletic vibe to it ruin his entire serious, gloomy facade. “you make me go crazy, you know?” “huh?”
when he gets comfortable, he doesn’t want you wearing masks at home. “don’t cover it up. such a waste of a good view.”
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KUROO TETSUROU
kuroo will be such a tease about it. he absolutely knows it’s just your cheeks being naturally red, but he will never let an opportunity to mess with you pass him by.
“wow, y/n. i haven’t even said anything and you’re already blushing.” you love him but sometimes he needs a good shutting up. “tetsu, if you don’t shut up…”oh, and when you get mad at him: “that’s crazy y/n, because a minute ago you were all red and flustered.”
has the most insane, diabolical, vomit-inducing nickname for you. “hey there, miss tomato shrub.” “where’s my pantone pigment baby?” “good morning, my little red stop light.” “give me a sec, angry bird”
but if you’re insecure about it, he gives you a cheeky grin and goes “i don’t get it. i think it’s perfect like that. all red for me.” “it’s not for you.” “that’s your opinion.”
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IWAIZUMI HAJIME
at first, he thinks you’re blushing all the time. “oh, i didn’t know that would fluster you. was it really that romantic-” he’s kind of disappointed when he finds out you just have really red cheeks normally and that you didn’t actually blush because of him. “oh, thats, um, nice.”
he’s oddly…bewitched by your cheeks. sometimes, you two are doing nothing when he’ll suddenly stare at you. “hm? haji, you need something?” “mot really.” and then he’ll just squeeze your cheek. and not let go for a good minute or two.
one time, he’s arguing with oikawa and you hear him go “stop bragging, shittykawa. does your girlfriend blush 24/7 cuz of you? i didn’t think so.” “iwa-chan it’s a genetic thing!” “skill issue, skittykawa.”
you don’t even have the time to be insecure about it, because he’s always got his hands massaging your cheeks and kissing them like crazy. “keep it all red and cute.” “it’s not like i can control it, haji…” “‘s fine as long as it doesn’t go away.”
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g4yforethan · 5 months
Text
the helper
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pairing: billy loomis x male!reader
summary: reader is billy’s accomplice and billy repays him for his hard work
warnings: cursing, top!billy, bottom!reader
a/n: thought of this in class and realized i have never made a fic for billy so here it is and hope u enjoyy! also happy halloween to those who celebrate!!
"billy i'm scared." "don't be. remember it'll be quick and easy." you drove passenger side next to billy as you were headed towards casey becker's house. you both arrived two blocks away and grabbed two ghostface costumes, an anonymous phone, and a voice changer. "okay just stay here and i'll tell you when it's time to go." billy reassures you as he goes towards the front of the house. you called casey's home phone number and talked to her through the voice changer. she couldn't recognize it was you even though you sat next to her in physics. after minutes of being on the phone, you hear a crash through the window and a scream following soon after.
“GO GO BACK TO THE CAR.” you hear billy scream as he runs towards you taking off the costume. you both run down the block and speed out of the street. “WOO! good job there y/n. i’m proud of you.” you blush at his comment as his hands reach for your thigh. “hey how about we head back to our place and wash up for the night?” you agree and the two of you head back to his house. once you both get there. the two of you quietly sneak upstairs to his room. billy takes off his shirt and lays on his back in bed. you sit down next to him as he stares at the wall, thinking about earlier that night.
“wow we really just did that! this is crazy. i’m proud of you.” he turns his head and stares at you. “thanks i mean i didnt do much besides calling her.” he laughs in response. “yeah but it’s more than that. you committed to it y/n. you committed to me.” you blush and turn away so he doesn’t notice this but he did. he gets up and pulls your face so you’re staring at him face to face. “thank you billy i don’t know what to say.” you continue staring at each other. “you don’t need to say anything pretty boy.” he grabs your face and presses his lips onto yours. his hands reach for your waist as yours reach his back. he moans at the taste of your lips and savors every moment of it. he takes a moment to take his shirt as do you too and the two of you move onto the bed.
billy lays you on your back and starts to kiss along your neck. his hands reach for your nipples as he starts to stimulate them. you moan which turns him on even more. he starts to kiss your chest and begins to suck on your nipples. you start to roll your eyes back as his fingers reach for your mouth. you suck in his fingers for a few minutes before billy lays on his back. you start to kiss his neck and chest before unzipping his pants. his long dick, already dripping with pre-cum, enters your mouth. you suck on his cock for a few all while his moans fill the room. "fuck fuck stop i'm gonna cum." you stop because you know billy wants more of you.
"i wanna fuck you so bad baby boy." "billy please." he unzips your pants and underwear and lays you on your stomach. he starts to tease your hole by licking it and putting one finger in and then another in as well. "billy please i want your dick inside of me." "easy there baby i'm getting to it." he spits on your hole before slowly sliding his cock inside of you. he groans as his dick is hit with your tight hole. he goes at a slow and soft pace, allowing you to relax and get adjusted. he leaves kisses on your back and grabs ahold of your waist as he starts to go a little faster. he digs deeper inside of you and hits your prostate which leaves you rolling your eyes back into your head. "fuck billy right there."
he knows he's hitting the spot as he goes even faster pounding your hole until your fingers are gripping the bedsheets. his sweat combined with yours melt onto the bed as billy pulls on your hair and grabs your neck. "i'm gonna cum baby." he moans as he fills your hole with his cum. he lays on his back and wipes the sweat off of his face. "fuck baby you felt so good." you blush and move next to him and give him a kiss on his neck and lips. "thanks billy so who's next on our list?" he smiles and kisses you before reaching to hold you in his arms.
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