#need that feedback + someone to indulge your ideas

[coldvampire]

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#don’t underestimate the power of having just One person getting excited abt your ongoing projects and blowing up your dms #comparing my creative process from when I had that vs now that I do Not is. quite the gap honestly #rubber ducking isn’t really the same thing it doesn’t make my brain work in the same way #need that feedback + someone to indulge your ideas #Yes And workstyle lmao #anyway I miss it :/ #is it me am I unapproachable or shdjjdkd #then again it’s felt p quiet in my corner in general #like I’m friendly w a lot of my mutuals but just kinda like. a figure on the fringes. #which is cool I just wish that wasn’t the case all the time :(

[hotchgirlsummer]

mess of mine ⤷ aaron hotchner x reader

summary ⤷ aaron hotchner never expected to find an adorable woman when he was out asking around about their unsub. turns out she's all he needs to brighten up his life.

pairing ⤷ aaron hotchner x fem!bimbo!reader

warnings ⤷ unsub takedown. unsub has a knife. mentions of typical cm violence, killing, and general disdain towards women. rossi calls the reader a bimbo lmao

word count ⤷ 6k words

a/n ⤷ bear with me as i am obsessed with the idea of a bimbo being with aaron in the most adorable way possible 😭 and i dont meant bimbo in a derogatory way! but just someone who isn't book smart ig? the reader in this fic i imagine to be so good with fashion in styling so yeah... i know i didnt do justice with the whole narrowing down the search for an unsub or the way they handled the take down but i have to admit this is just self-indulgent as i want be aaron's brainless girl ❤️ anyway, feedback is appreciated for this! might turn this into a mini series so yeah. happy holidays!

✪

“Excuse me, may I speak with you?” A deep voice made Y/N turn around from where she was organizing some of the new clothes that had just arrived. Smiling at the dark-haired man who stood in a crisp suit, she looked at his clothes and pouted, “I’m sorry but we don’t usually sell those suits, we do have some pastel ones in any case you’re interested in those instead.”

Hotch followed the direction in which she pointed and was surprised to see a couple of suits that are, to her credit roughly in his size, but instead of the neutral tones he’d go for they were in pastel pink and purple. Shaking his head and biting down a small smile he pulled for his badge and presented it to her, “Thank you for the recommendations but I’m afraid that’s not what I’m here for.”

Upon looking at the badge her eyes failed to focus on how he was part of the FBI and instead chuckled when she noticed his name, “Heh, Ay-ay-ron.” Her mispronunciation of his name caused his eyebrows to furrow as he gently corrected her, “Aaron, ma’am. Not Ay-ay-ron, I’m afraid.” Her little bubble popped when she looked into his eyes, mesmerized by the deep brown orbs she shook her head and clarified, “Oh I knew that, that was just from the Peele & Key skit. Never knew anyone named Aaron so couldn’t tease anyone by it.”

“Right,” came Hotch’s sharp reply, worried that their possible lead might be a bust due to the witness presenting signs of being dopey due to addiction. “Is there a back office where I can speak to you in private?” She pointed towards a door that had a curtain in front of it, “We can go there, we never let anyone in there because that’s where our safe and transaction lists are!”

As pleased as he was to hear that they keep a record of their transactions, he was becoming more and more alarmed at how easily she was giving away confidential business information. Inside the small room that he concluded acted as their little breakroom with the microwave placed on top of a small fridge, it also served as their surveillance room and like she said, a safe was placed there. He motioned for her to grab a seat and pulled the folder he brought with him. “The reason I’m here today is we were hoping you could point us in the direction of one of your customers.”

Looking up from the files, he was surprised to see that she was looking at him with a giddy smile, “What do you wanna know, Aaron?” Her bliss-like innocence made him think about if he was really going to taint her by telling her the horrors that brought them to this store; but it was quickly shrugged off when he remembered that there was a possibility that she was on some sort of drugs. “There has been a man who may have purchased clothes through your boutique as they have been using the clothes they purchased to redress their victims.”

“How’d you know they bought it from here?” She wondered out loud to which he replied, “We found one of the boutique’s plastic bags near the crime scene. Would you happen to have a log of your transactions?” Deciding against showing her the photos, he simply joined his hands atop the folder and looked at her. She nodded and turned to the computer table where there was a laptop, she placed it in the middle of the table, “Phoebe has me recording customers’ names, what they bought, and how they paid. Just ‘cause last time I had a mom angry with me just because their child bought a top that, like, showed too much cleavage.”

Taking it as she had given him permission to browse through their transactions, Hotch nodded, “And Phoebe is your manager, I’m assuming?” She nodded with a cute smile on her face, “She’s so nice. Real patient with me when I was training. Even taught me tricks on how I can close faster.”

As much as he wanted to direct his full attention to her, he was only able to focus on some parts of it as he was more focused on finding the masterlist of their transactions. Just as he clicked on the file he was greeted with the pop up that was asking him for a password which caused him to look up at her, “It’s asking for a password, would you happen to know what it is?”

For all the times he witnessed someone shake their head, he hated how adorable she looked when she did so with a little pout which made her glossed up lips even more tempting, “Only Phoebe knows it. She changes the password every month and I can’t keep up!” She leaned forward with her manicured nails resting on the top of the table, “One time she mixed in some capital and small letters with some numbers. It was very confusing.”

“I can see why that would be,” Aaron sympathized with her as a small smile broke out of his lipa; normally he’d be irritated with this kind of behavior but there is something endearing about her that made him think otherwise, “Would you mind if I have our technical analyst take a look into it?”

“But how? I don’t know the password and Phoebe didn’t leave a note anywhere!” She was clearly distressed about the whole thing, Hotch could also see the faint traces of frustration at not being able to help further in the investigation. His hand moved as if they had a mind of their own and held onto her smaller one, brushing the back of hers gently, “Well our analyst is like a magician, okay, sweetheart?”

Hypnotized by his caramel eyes and the comfort his touch radiated, she nodded and visibly relaxed, “In the meantime, there is something else you can help me out with, if you’re up for it.” Taking her nod as her consent he then untangled his hand with hers, he tried not to let her disappointed whimper affect him, as he opened the case file and landed on the page where they have already a profile of the unsub, “The man we’re looking for goes here often, he spends a long time looking through the clothes because he’s always looking for a particular detail or design. Whenever you speak to him, he appears nervous or shy, but he has enough charm to have you fooled that he won’t harm you at all.”

Hotch was silently cursing at himself for allowing himself to be distracted at the sight of her glossed up lips pursed as she thought hard about a customer who fit his description; looking at him in an exasperated manner as she pouts at him, clearly frustrated, “I’m sorry, but I can’t focus much right now. I could not even help you out with the password.” He grabbed for her hand once more and stroked the back of it gently, “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, pretty girl,” Instead of expressing surprise like he anticipated she would upon being called the nickname, she seems to be pleased and melts because of it, “Why don’t you close your eyes and take a deep breath,” Following his instructions, she nodded as she closed her eyes and let out a sigh while her hand clutched into his tightly, “Now, go back to a day where he comes in. What do you usually do when the boutique isn’t busy?”

“I like to rearrange the clothes — sometimes I group them by type of clothing, then by color.”

Pleased that she was now calmer which effectively made her able to recall when and how she interacted with the unsub, “That’s good. Now, he walks into the boutique. He sees you rearranging the racks. Does he talk to you right away or go browning?”

“I hear shuffling of the hangers first but I don’t turn yet because I was trying to get rid of the lint in one of the clothes,” She smiles, pleased that she’s being a bit more helpful right now. “Good,” His voice wasn’t the only one soothing her as he was rubbing her knuckles too, “What did he do that drew your attention away from what you were doing?”

“He threw some clothes on the floor, he wasn’t happy with the choices that we had that day.”

“What else did he say or do?” Hotch could see that she was working hard to think back to it, as if the frown lines that were appearing on her forehead wasn’t a clear indicator of it, “He yelled, saying what happened to this store and why did it suddenly turn into a dump. Just because we didn’t have any more available items of what he usually likes.”

She was pouting once more which made his heart flutter once more but the rational part of his brain took over as he inquired, “Were you able to get a good look at his face? Can you make out what he looks like?”

Pursing her lips as she thought about it, she looked at their hands that were still holding onto each other as she spoke, “I did see him, he picked up the clothes and apologies. Said that he just had a bad day at work.”

Hotch smiled and continued to guide her through this interview by saying, “That’s good, now do you see what he looks like, sweetheart?”

“He had very little hair, you know, like a buzz cut. Couldn’t pull it off though,” She giggled as she remembered how uneven the cut looked, “He also had this scar by his cheek,” Using her hand that wasn’t held down, she trailed the tip of her finger to her cheek from her cheekbone down near the side of her lips, “He was taller than me too!” Her excitement of remembering something completely died down when she took a good look at the unit chief in front of her — which worried him slightly but he wouldn’t admit that.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked to which she answered right away, “He was taller than me, but he’s not as tall as you. How tall are you, by the way?”

“6’2. Is there anything else you remember from when you guys spoke?” Aaron felt flustered once more upon her taking interest in him but was able to school his features to not give that surprise away. But his resolve was once again almost crumbling down as she tapped her fingers against his knuckles as she thought hard about her interactions with the unsub, “He returned an item once. Said that when he came up he only noticed a stain there. Phoebe told me to not accept items that have stains or any dirt in them, we always throw the clothes in the wash, you know? But there was this whole queue behind him that I just accepted the return even though I wasn’t supposed to!”

Her whine just added to the long list of what made her even more precious in his opinion as he nodded, “Do you remember where you placed this clothing? Would you mind if I took a look at it?”

Nodding she stood up and led him out of the little break room that they were in walked through the shop’s main floor — and what took the tenured profiler aback was how she did not let go of his hand, which definitely caught sight of Rossi wo was in the middle of a phone call with Garcia when he shot a smirk at the two. When a door opened to reveal another room with a washing and drying machine, and a small sink. “This is where we clean and prepare the clothes before we display them outside.”

Removing her hand from where it was engulfed in his larger one, she rifled and was looking through the four laundry baskets that were in there. Spotting the blouse he returned, she was about to pick out the blouse when he stopped her gently by pulling her arm, “Let me go through them, please.”

She nods and steps aside as she watches him put on some gloves before rifling through the baskets, “Why wouldn’t you let me help you look for it?” Hotch paused briefly and looked back at her, seeing how there was a somber look on her face as she wondered that. “You mentioned that there was dirt on the item he returned, yes?”

Nodding her head she hummed her agreement while he pointed at her hands, “Well I don’t want your pretty hands catching onto the dirt, not when your nails look good.” Complimenting a girl felt foreign to him as he hadn’t done so in a while, but it didn’t feel creepy at all. He felt vindicated when she smiled brightly and displayed one of her hands, “Thanks for noticing! I just got the shellac color done yesterday. I did a purple color last month and decided to go back to my favorite color, pink!”

Her giggles helped ease the dread he felt at the pit of his stomach upon finding the blouse that was definitely returned by their unsub. The stain she was referring to looked like blood and soil. Reaching for his back pocket, he reached for the evidence bag he carried with him in case they were to find any pieces of evidence that were hopefully going to be useful in their investigation.

“This is the blouse he returned, yeah?” He asked her, showing the stained article now in the bag. She nodded her head, “That is the one. Do you want me to clean it off before you go?”

Smiling at her well-meaning attitude he shook his head before disposing of the gloves he wore in the trash bin that was nearby. “It’s all good, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little self about it, alright? I’m gonna have to take this as evidence, can you let Phoebe know that?”

She nodded her head with a smile, “I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s nice like that, she won’t take it off my paycheck.” Gleaming at his earlier compliment she then smiled and opened the door for them to exit the tiny room. “Will I see you again?” Her voice sounded small and a bit disappointed, but he tried not to show he was feeling the same as he reached for his coat pocket and handed her his calling card. “Under these circumstances? I hope not.”

Tilting her head as she accepted the card and wondered what he meant, she had a small pout that looked very much like she wanted to be kissed. Instead, he clarified for her, “What I meant is you should call me the next time you see the buzzcut man, okay?”

“Oh! I can do that!” She cheere happily before continuing on, “Gonna call you and let you know that he’s trouble and he’s here!”

“Maybe don’t say that directly,” He warned her as he rubbed her forearms reassuringly, “Instead use a code. When you call me, tell me how you’d love for the food delivery to come right now. That way, he won't think that the FBI will be looking for him.”

Gasping at how well-thought his plan was, she giggled and jokingly gave him a pat on his shoulder as if to congratulate him, “That was so good, Aaron! You’re smart and handsome!” He wanted to prolong their conversation for as long as they could but of course the odds were against them when Rossi walked over to where they were standing over as he informed his former mentee, “Sorry to interrupt, but we got a hit and they need us back at the precinct.”

Nodding his head back to his mentor, Hotch then shot one last smile to her before offering his hand for a shake. “Thanks so much for your help, sweetheart. Keep in touch, okay?” Shaking his hand with a bright smile she nodded, “I like it when you call me sweetheart, but that’s not really my name, you know? It’s Y/N.”

“See you around then, Y/N.”

With that, the two sadly let go of the other’s hand and went back to normal, back to the reality that they had to work. As he exited the store and went ahead to maneuver the car back to the precinct, he could feel Rossi’s teasing grin at him. “What?”

“Sweetheart, huh?” Came Rossi’s reply which led Aaron to be defensive about it, “She was a bit unsettled at first. I was just trying to calm her down.” The Italian man just raised his eyebrows, getting even more suspicious if anything, “Sure, that’s all that was. Wasn’t like you found her attractive at all.”

“She is attractive, but I could also see that she was way too delicate for the horrors that we usually face,” Hoping that was enough to persuade the senior profiler that there wasn't any budding affection on his part. “All I’m saying is she is a gorgeous woman, but even you have to admit that she doesn’t seem all too smart though. She’s what would be commonly referred to as a bimbo.”

Thankful that they had arrived back in the police station so he would not have to hear what sounded like judgemental comments, Aaron slammed the driver’s door a little too hard before defending her, “How is that bad? Save your unhelpful judgements, Dave.”

Back at the station, once he had given the blouse to the precinct’s forensic team to be analyzed, the rest of the team had been brainstorming on their possible suspect pool. It didn’t take less than an hour for forensics to get back to them with a hit.

“Garcia, will you please give us the rundown on John Wesley please?” Spencer requested as soon as he phoned their technical analyst. “Born and raised in Fairfax, Virginia. Well, really raised by a single mom who did not register who the father to her baby was. He has a record for trespassing and peeping when he was only twelve, yikes. Said that since his mom had to work two, almost three jobs to support herself and him he had to be left alone in their apartment complex where sometimes peeped into the unit next door, turns out the not so good example neighbor would bring home prostitutes and saw how rough he was with them.”

“That would explain why there were bruises on the women, he must have thought that beating them up is some sick way of showing affection,” JJ deduced as Penelope unsealed court records and found out more about John. “Seems like John saw like a counselor or a therapist and he admitted that he liked the idea of women being dolled up after a rough session.”

“Seeing the prostitutes go about the rest of their day after a paid session must have left that impression on him. And he didn’t really fully comprehend how that set up works,” Reid thought out loud, to which everyone agreed.

“What’s his education, personal and work life like Garcia?” Rossi wondered.

“Well education, not so much finished high school but without any recognition you know? Took a couple of classes at the local community college but didn’t really graduate from it. Personal, still legally single by the looks of it. Work life? Oh, would you look at that.”

“Why? What is it, Garcia?” Derek was the one who snapped Garcia out of her shock. “Well it turns out he works at one of those mannequin factories. And it seems like he’s been getting reprimanded by his superior because he liked putting marks on them that looked similar to bruises. And for a while it seems like he also took some home or if not, he brought some clothes to work to dress them up.”

“That’s more than enough, did he go to work today Garcia?” Blake wondered. “He should be there, his boss had him scheduled for today until 6pm,” They all looked at the time and saw that it was 30 minutes before his shift ended. “He clocked in but has yet to clock out by the looks of it.”

“Garcia, we’re gonna need his work and home address, please.” Rossi said to which the peppy analyst declared “Done and done, stay safe crime fighters.”

“Blake, you and Reid head over to his workplace to see if he’s still there; if not, gather as much information as you can about him and how he treats the mannequins, maybe that will give us a clear COD. Morgan, you and JJ head over to the house, see if he’s holding another woman there. As soon as you see him, apprehend him. Dave and I will stay here in case there’s any further development, call for backup if needed.”

With that, the team dispersed into their assignments; Rossi slid over a cup of coffee Hotch’s way who was now engrossed as he was reading over Wesley’s file. “You know I didn’t mean anything bad with what I said earlier, right?”

That caught his attention as he looked up from the tablet and squinted a little, “Pardon me?” Rossi only chuckled as he sat down across from the unit chief before clarifying, “I knew what you meant when you mentioned that your sweetheart,” Hotch rolled his eyes at that but didn’t really feel any distaste towards him or his words, “Was a little softer than the ones we usually interact with. But I do see why you would be attracted to her — she’s kind, thoughtful, and can literally and figuratively bring color to your life.” Aaron knew that he was pertaining to how colorful her entire outfit and personality was and had to bite down a chuckle as he instead redirected his focus to the tablet, “You got all that from a few seconds of interaction?”

“What can I say? I’m a good profiler,” Now the two laughed at his little joke but did know that it was indeed the truth. “She’d be good for you, Aaron. She lives nearby so there’s no reason for you to not pursue her.”

“How about the fact that she’s younger than I am?” He remarked a bit morosefully to which he was surprised that Rossi only scoffed at, “So? It’s not like she’s underage or anything. She’d be providing you with her consent so there’s really no reason for you to feel guilt or anything like that.”

Opening his mouth to offer another rebuttal he paused mid-thought when he was suddenly hit with a realization, “Wait, why does it seem like you’re certain of her age?”

This time Rossi showed him Y/N’s file that Garcia had sent over to his phone, “Had Penelope do a background check on the employees of the boutique earlier. And let’s just say she has a squeaky clean record and is definitely of age.”

Aaron could not believe how hard Dave was so persistent with the whole thing; but when it all boils down, he’d rather have a supportive friend than one who discourages him to go out there and date. “Well I’ll leave it up to fate if I should make a move; besides I don’t even have her phone number.”

Just as he was about to be yelled at by his mentor, Hotch’s phone rang and on cue, he answered it despite the number unlisted to his contacts he answered it and greeted them by saying, “Hotchner.”

✪

“And I got that good girl faith in that tight little skirt,” Just as she was about to sing the next line, the bell above the door rang, signaling that someone just walked in, “Welcome to Beauty Boutique! Can I help you with anything?” The cheerfulness in her voice died down upon seeing who the man was. She gulped down her nervousness, hoping that the buzzcut man would notice her feelings of unease.

“Just browsing through; thanks though, sweetheart.” An invisible shiver went down her spine; I liked it more when Aaron called me that. Heh, Ay-ay-ron, she thought to herself. But that also reminded her that she was to call him if he ever showed up. Dialing his number on her phone, she bit the skin of her fingertips anxiously as she waited for him to answer.

“Hotchner,” Came his gruff greeting. She giggled for a little before plastering a serious face on before finding the words, “Hi, I’d like the food to be delivered, please.”

On the other end of the phone, Aaron could feel the dread in him knowing that Y/N was within arm’s reach of a dangerous killer. “Alright, we’re coming Y/N. Stay calm and don’t let him see panic in your face okay, sweetheart?” He looked at Dave and nodded towards the precinct’s doors; the man nodded and headed out to let the cops and the rest of the team know that they knew about Wesley’s whereabouts.

She nodded her head against the phone as she secretly watched the unsub’s movements — who was currently busying himself in the dress section of their store — before asking, “How long until the food gets here? I don’t want it to be too cold, you know?”

Chuckling against the phone as he watched how Dave drove with urgency he assured here, “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Y/N, do you remember if the back door is unlocked?”

“The back door? It’s unlocked but a bit heavy for me to open, it’ll be better if you come up to the store’s front for the food,” She answered as she recalled how much she hated throwing out the garbage during closing time as it was like lifting a whole tree when she opened the back door.

“Okay good, another thing — if you can try to keep the unsub, or the buzzcut guy, within the store that’d be great. If not, make sure to keep note of which direction he goes into, alright?”

“I’m not sure I can try your spicy specialty. But I’ll give it a try. How long til it gets here again?” She asked nervously, she had eye contact with the unsub and she didn’t like the smile he shot her.

“Almost there, sweetheart. I promise,” Aaron said as he hung up the phone call when he noticed that they were a block away and had to park their vehicle. As they stepped outside he gave instructions to uniform officers to take the back entrance and that it could be a little heavy when they try to open it but it is unlocked for their convenience. “I take it back, Aaron,” Dave spoke as he and Aaron cautiously made their way to the front entrance, “Your girl’s a lot smarter than I gave her credit for.”

“Not my girl,” He said, but Hotch did admit that it sounded nice to refer to her as that.

✪ “Got some food delivered here?” Came the unsub’s question as he brought some items to the till. She nodded as she began ringing up the items. “I did, it’s lunchtime,” She tried to convince him and by the looks of it, he bought it, “Did you enjoy your shopping experience today?”

“Sure did,” he pointed to the clothes, “Found great deals on these great clothes,” Shooting her a wink that didn’t do anything to make her feel attracted to him he tried flirting by saying, “Even had a pretty view when I did so.”

An awkward laugh was all that she could give him before placing all of the items in a bag before telling him, “Your total for today is $29.54, how would you like to pay for that today?”

Reaching for his back pocket, he grabbed for his wallet before answering, “On cash, beautiful.” She just smiled as he handed her a fifty dollar bill. Opening her till she had her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he counted his change but was stopped when he held her hands. Her audible gasp just caused him to smirk even more as he said, “Say, why don’t you keep the change, and in return you can just let me take you out on a date hm? That sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“I can’t do that, my boyfriend wouldn’t like it if I went with someone who wasn’t him,” Came her reply. The man rolled his eyes as he held a tighter grip on her hand causing her to yelp out in pain, “Cut the bullshit. I’ve been here a lot of time to know for a fact that a dumb bimbo like you doesn’t have a boyfriend. So when I say we’re going out, we’re going out.”

“James Wesley, this is the FBI; let go of the woman and put your hands up in the air.”

Tears pooled in her eyes upon seeing that Aaron was in the store; this time he ditched his suit jacket and instead had a bulletproof vest. Instead of following his orders he held onto her wrist more and jumped over the counter, pressing his front to her back as he grabbed a blade from his back pocket and pressed it against her throat, “One step close and I’ll slit her throat.”

Unable to hold back her whimpers, Y/N was now crying as she felt the cold touch of the blade against her skin. “Aaron, please,” Her broken cry broke Hotch’s heart, but he knew he had to be smart; she was at the hands of a sadistic man who took pleasure in beating the crap out of women.

From behind her, James scoffed, “Don’t tell me he is the boyfriend you were lying about. Didn’t think you could land a man like him.”

“You don’t have to hurt her, James. She didn’t hurt you, she didn’t give you the false promise of love, right?” Dave negotiated, on the drive over they were given new intel about how he was hurt by his fiancee when she left him for someone who was abusive to her. Thinking that he had to inflict pain on women in order for them to love and stay loyal to him — that coupled with his distorted view of the prostitutes view rough sex — set him on the course of killing and beating up women then dressing them up, much like how the prostitutes went about their night.

“Hurting women doesn’t make them stay, James. Treating and treasuring them right is how you get them to stay,” Hotch added, which didn’t sit well with the unsub as he shook his head, his hold on Y/N getting loose as he didn’t press on the knife to her anymore. “Yeah? Is that how you get this skank?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” Came Hotch’s cold reply but he was quick to think of a way to get Y/N out of the situation safely. He made eye contact with the uniformed officer that snuck around the back — which for some reason John didn’t notice, but they weren’t complaining about that — he looked at John's shoulder then to the officer's gun. “Shoot in the shoulder?” Mouthed Officer Harrison, to which Hotch mouthed back “Wait.”

“If anything I’m surprised you’re able to hold onto a woman,” Hotch goaded him, but not too much John would take it out on Y/N. “By the looks of it you can’t even hold onto her right.”

As John looked to see his hands he shouted, “Now!” As planned, Officer Harrison shot John’s shoulder while Rossi shot his elbow, causing him to release his grip on Y/N — who immediately ran into Aaron. Face wet with tears buried in his chest as Aaron pressed loving rubs on her back.

“I was so scared, Aaron. Tried not to panic like you said but he had a knife,” She recalled with so much fear in her voice. He soothed her by rubbing her back keeping her eyes focused on him and not on John who was now being assisted by Rossi and Harrison out of the store and into the cop car. “I know, sweetheart. And you did so well, I saw you talking to him and trying to not let him get away. Wasn’t your fault okay?”

Wiping her tears with his thumbs he tried to console her, “He’s a bad guy, no matter how good you treated him he would have been mean to you. But you best believe I would not let that happen.” She felt something warm — whether it were his hands that settled on her cheeks once he was done wiping away her tears or the way he didn’t stop until the unsub was away from her — but she realized she loved how safe and secure he made her feel was what made her feel warm.

“Thank you for saving me, Aaron. You’re the best, you know?” Now it was his turn to be flustered as he chuckled and shook his head, “Was just doing my job, sweetheart. Couldn’t let you have any more dirt in your clothes and hands.”

That elicited a giggle from her, and he was happy to see that she wasn’t now in tears and distressed by earlier events. “If you need someone to talk to, after how bad today was, you can always give me a call, okay?”

“And if I just wanted to talk to you? Or maybe go out with you for a date?” It was adorable to see her ask him, looking smaller than him and so nervous. He nodded and rubbed her cheeks lovingly, “I’d love that, sweetheart. I’d kiss your cute nose but unfortunately I’m still on the job.”

Nodding in understanding, she then smiled, “Don’t be a stranger and shoot me a text okay? Oh! That reminds me,” She stepped out within his reach and grabbed the pastel pink suit that she pointed to earlier and gave it to him, “Please take this! One of the things I’d love to see is you in this. I just know you can pull it off!”

Looking down at the clothing article, he shook his head as he laughed a little at how insistent she was being, “Sweetheart, I like how you have faith in me but I don’t think this will suit me really well.”

“Please? For me, Aaron?” She looked up at him with a pout and knew right then and there Hotch had found his kryptonite. So, with a sigh, he nodded and smiled, “Alright, but you’re gonna have to give me a hand on how to dress up with this suit okay?” Smiling so wide she gave him a hug and hummed, “Yes, yes! Thank you, Aaron!”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re needed back,” Rossi came and with that the two ended their hug. Y/N smiled at him as she held up her hand and grabbed a scarf and gave it to Rossi. “A little something as a thank you for saving me, Mr.”

“Rossi,” He provided, “Y/N, right?” Rossi offered his hand for a shake to which she accepted and confirmed that it was indeed her name. “Good eye, this will go well with this jacket.”

“Italian suit, right? That scarf’s material shouldn’t rub on it the wrong way.” At her input Rossi smiled at her then at Aaron, “Good catch,” Before bidding adieu to her, “See you around, Y/N.”

She looked at Aaron as if to ask what he meant with his remark but was instead interrupted when Aaron smiled at her and lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll call you later, sweetheart. Take care for now.”

Feeling bold, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose, “Thank you, Aaron, for keeping me safe. I’ll be thinking of you.” And he knew that as he walked out of the store and rode back with Rossi to the station, his thoughts would be clouded by her as well. And for the first time in a while, he was glad to have this kind of distraction. She might have been a bit of a mess, but from here on out she was his mess.

part two: i’m a mess but

#aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

[ao3commentoftheday]

I got a response to a post like two weeks ago that I've been thinking about ever since: how do I know whether I'm writing for myself or for others?

Sometimes this is an obvious answer and sometimes it's harder to pin down, especially when so often we're doing both at the same time - at least if we're posting our writing online.

Writing a story is one activity and posting that story to AO3 or tumblr is a different activity. Doing the first one doesn't necessarily mean doing the second. If you go into a story without the intention of showing it to anyone else, then you can feel pretty confident that it's just for you. But what about the times when you go in knowing that the end result will be read by others?

Fandom is a community space. Even when we write something self-indulgent, we often want to share it with others or to hear others tell us they enjoyed our work. That's normal and healthy and makes us an active and participating community member. What's not so healthy is when that desire for feedback becomes the sole driving force behind our writing. If you find yourself only writing in order to get that feedback, then you're most likely writing for others and not for yourself.

But that's also a scenario that lots of people talk about. You've probably heard that before - maybe even from me. What if that's not the issue, and yet you still feel uncertain about who you're really writing for?

That's when you need to start listening to yourself. And I don't just mean check in with your feelings. I mean listen to your own thought processes and reasons for making choices.

Are you developing a character in a direction that you think the fandom would like, even though you don't find that direction particularly interesting?

Are you pulling your punches in your whump or angst scenes because you don't usually write stuff "that heavy" and you don't want to "lose your audience"?

Are you making your smut tamer? Kinkier? Trying to satisfy someone else's idea of a hot scene instead of writing what you'd actually want to read yourself?

The decisions you make around your writing should please you, more often than they don't. If most of your decisions are based on the reaction of your imagined future readers, then you might be happy with the ship or the plotline or the resolution but feel less than satisfied about the smaller bits and pieces that make up the fic.

Give yourself the gift of not posting everything you write. Keep some of it back and just for you. Spend time on those works and really analyze why you're doing what you're doing there - and why you're not doing it in the works you share. Figuring out the difference might help you get a better idea of how to find the best way to reach the only guaranteed audience you ever have: yourself.

#thinky thoughts #I have no idea if this helps or not #but I hope it does?

[planetdream]

STRANGE DREAMS !

CHARACTERS ! incubus/demon!hyunjin, reader

GENRE ! horror, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 7.8k [more or less]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! edible-fueled writing. horror [gore—body horror: descriptions of blood and mutilated bodies. frightening figures and situations. description of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost [if you squint], and smut [dubcon—sexual manipulation and sex pollen, sorta. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possession/corruption. vaginal and anal sex. pussy and face slapping. teasing. fingering. spit. squirting. face fucking. degradation. strength kink sorta. sex with a demon—in demon form. monster cock. lots of cum]

⚠️ if you’re sensitive to gore, be advised before reading. i tried to be tame and brief with descriptions, and although i consider it to be light gore, i understand everyone has their limits. so proceed with caution.

💌 posting this earlier than originally planned cuz why not!! got the idea for this fic a year ago after an edible. it’s very weird n self indulgent but i’m glad i finally finished it !! i hope someone enjoys it <3 i always appreciate feedback !!

You’re certain that it’s the sky you’re gazing into—though, you’re unsure because your vision is unclear, a milky haze clouding your pupils—but the longer you look at it, the more it spins and distorts, bringing on nausea that rises in waves from the pit of your stomach to the top of your head. The nausea brings on a discomfort; dryness in your mouth and a straining in your eyes, and because of that, you’re left with no choice but to close your eyes and let your other senses take over. Darkness surrounds you, and it feels like you have risen into the sky, despite grass being beneath you, and it’s soft, comfortable; almost like you could sink deeper into it before reaching the hard, frigid dirt. You grab the blades of grass with a tight fist, tugging on it, but still unwilling to pull it out as if you would cause harm. Then, the grass all around you becomes apparent—alive—moving against your skin in a response back to you. It tickles all over, building the realization that you lay naked in the grass, though unwilling to get up or cover yourself; lost within the pure contentment of the situation. 

There is a wave that sways over you—hot, heavy, and harsh, yet not too overbearing in its nature. You don’t know why, but there’s a sense of familiarity about when you are. It’s as if you’ve been here before, a distant memory that both chills and warms you. 

Along with the burbling sound of water pouring into itself, the smell of water whisks in the cool breeze—slightly sweet, green and alluring; whistling your name, calling out for you to come over. The whispering is intriguing, full of temptation but slightly melancholic; no words need be said, yet you understand the language of the waters. The whispers are loud, blaring; not in the sense of volume, but by how jarring it is—unlike anything you’ve heard and yet, it’s something you feel so acquainted with, like a long-time friend. The water cries, begging for you to bathe within it or drink from it and promises a sweet taste that could be comparable to honey and lemons. 

When you open your eyes again, everything is clear. The plants around you are breathing, communicating through the whistles of the wind; and just like the water, the plants cry out as well. Though, the cries of the flowers and trees are far different from the cries of the water. The cries of the water nearby sing a great harmony of promise and belief, whereas, the cries of the many trees screech of terror and agitation. They warn of what horrors can be witnessed here, of what great dangers are lurking within them. A sweet song of catastrophe. The flowers, however,—with captivating colors unlike anything you’ve ever seen, yet familiar; like the names of them are on the tip of your tongue, begging to be acknowledged and praised—cry differently. It’s a murmur most comparable to the feeling of silk against your hands, but also the feeling of goosebumps after a close encounter with something you shouldn’t have crossed paths with. A comfortable discomfort. 

You look around, fully taking in the picture of what presents itself around you. There are butterflies varying in size and species—they sing as well, something similar to a war cry; morbid and haunting, though still beautiful and in great faith. Dragonflies buzz around, securing their place and status within the area. So much life here—at peace in this paradise. There’s some kind of haze or mist in the air, silent and still, tranquil. The sun is bright, blazing hot and practically piercing, yet despite the warmth, the air is slightly cool. The sight of your surroundings further cements your previous feelings of familiarity. Yet it also uncovers sheer discomfort. Yes, the area is familiar, but there’s something unsettling and distinctly different about it. A discomfort layering in the air, horribly beautiful and homely, but pandemonium is lurking, lurched and hidden within the shadows of this seeming paradise. 

You roll over in the grass—laying on your stomach and lifting your head to see beyond what you could before. Not too far from your current position is a waterfall, continuing its whispers. The spring below is surrounded by unusual pink flowers and huge rocks covered in thick, green and yellow moss. Before you can process it, you’re on your feet and moving towards the spring. Once there, you kneel, gazing at your reflection in the waters. It’s almost too much to process but it’s you. It is you and yet it’s like the face you wear does not belong to you. Uncanny and off putting. 

Movement. On your left, deep in the periphery of the spring. Your eyes shift, tracking whatever chooses to present itself. A swan. Elegant and pristine. It cranes its neck, beak pointing towards you in acknowledgment. You make full eye contact, and a chill runs up your spine causing your hair to stand on edge. An inflamed feeling of danger sparks within you, and before you have time to fight or run as far away as possible—“There you are!” 

The voice comes from your right, but when you look in that direction, there’s nothing there.  “So this is where you ran off to.”

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your organs and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that. 

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes. 

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else. 

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there. 

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…” 

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops. 

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling in the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye; jumping on you and tearing you apart in a bloody mess of flesh and organs flying everywhere, painting the fallen deep green leaves a perfect contrast of crimson. 

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear. 

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

So you turn your heels and you run, not willing to ask him twice. Unsure of the direction you’re going in, but the further you seem to travel, the more that discomfort begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the pace—one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip over yourself—but a small part of you isn’t sure if the danger that you’re sensing is real or just a part of a sick and twisted game. Instead of running away from the source of your terror, it seems as though you’re running towards it, no matter the direction you run. Twigs and leaves snapping and crunching beneath your feet, but it causes you no pain. In fact, the only thing you can feel in the moment is the thumping of your heart and every single milliliter of blood marching through your vessels.

You admittedly don’t make it too far before you’re cowering, ducking against a large tree. Heart racing with such speed that you’re almost positive it would break free of your ribcage, piercing its way out of your chest. The tree, however, as quickly as you found it, is no longer a place of solace, as you hear a long, loud, and deep growl to your left. The deep guttural sound echoing, slicing through the trees like machetes. You’ve got to move, but you fear that if you do, whatever it is that made that sound, might attack, ripping you to shreds before you’ve even got a chance to exhale. There’s a roar once again, this time uncomfortably closer to your hiding place. You stand still, and the surrounding area of the forest is suddenly extremely silent. No rustle of leaves or echoes of birds, but a loud silence accompanied by a buzzing noise; like a horde of flies marching their way towards you. 

“Hyunjin,” You call out. The name slips from your mouth with ease, as if you’ve been calling him by that name all along. In the blink of an eye, just as you exhale his name, your surroundings change; suddenly submerged in water. 

You emerge from the cold water, barely having time to register your surroundings before you’re being forced back into the water; claw-like hands scraping into your scalp, sharp and heavy against your skull. It’s hard to make your way above the water because of the forceful weight and before you know it, attempting to hold your breath is useless due to the water infiltrating your lungs. You’re flailing and thrashing around, arms lifting—hands curling into a claws, attempting to grab onto something, only to slash through the water—and legs kicking mindlessly, trying to escape what is uncertain; heart rate accelerating as panic fully sets in. This seems to go on for nearly fifteen minutes, being edged by death over and over; blacking out then awakening time and time again. Vision blocked by the salty darkness of the water, ensuring to agitate you with fright, unsure of when it’s all going to end.

Abruptly, you’re dragged upwards by your hair, back falling harshly against rock, helping you cough up the water in your throat. It feels like it takes minutes for you to learn how to breathe again, attempting to do that and calm down enough to assess your surroundings. You’re coughing so much you think you might cough up an intestine, throat burning with each assault, chest sinking and expanding and then sinking again. It takes many moments of coming back to yourself that you notice that there is no rough hand against your scalp. Alarmed, moving around frantically, backing up toward the closest stone wall. Scanning the area, there’s no human nor animal, nor creature of any nature in sight. Not even a single insect. Not even Hyunjin.

You lean over, though not too far in case history repeats itself, to peer into the water; there isn’t even a single fish, as far as you can tell, the waters quickly descending into a vast, black pit of the unknown. Overhead, the sky that was once shining brightly now dimming rather quickly, accompanied by dark, angry clouds. The winds pick up, swirling atop of the trees, emitting a drawn out whistle comparable to wind chimes; of which you can surprisingly hear over splashing and sputtering of the nearby waterfall. Large roars of thunder stomping in, but no lightning accompanies it. You begin to curl into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from whatever is out there, nature or otherwise.

You close your eyes for five simple seconds, and when you open them, Hyunjin is right next to you. He doesn’t notice you’re awake at first until you shift, catching his attention. He turns to you and you avert your eyes from him. He’s talking but it’s all inaudible, unimportant. Something about his presence in this moment is unsettling. Slightly off from the initially odd behavior he’d be exhibiting. You just nod to his words. “Found you like this about an hour ago. You shook so hard until you stopped and fell asleep.” 

Hyunjin holds out a hand for you, which you’re hesitant to grab, but the next thing you know, you’re standing slowly; legs shaking as you attempt to regain strength. You hold onto his arm for extra support, slightly struggling in your steps as he leads you, hand in hand, towards a small cave hidden behind the pour of the waterfall. It’s hardly a hike, but Hyunjin makes sure you get to the other size carefully. “The rocks are slippery. You’ve had a few accidents here before.”

A lot of Hyunjin’s words are vague. Referrals to past events involving the two of you, all of which you cannot remember. There’s a feeling that you’ve been here before, but you’re unable to prove it, or make those connections other than your gut feeling and Hyunjin’s comments. 

You’re hesitant to walk into the cave, the inside being pitch black. Hyunjin walks in before you, completely fearless, as if there is no potential danger. At the snap of a finger, there’s suddenly a fire going on within the cave. From you place you can see how the fire illuminates Hyunjin’s figure just a bit, and as you walk closer—finding a bit more comfort now that you can see, and because you know Hyunjin is there waiting for you, willing to guide you into and protect you from the unknown—you admire how the flames of the fire accentuates Hyunjin’s facial features. He was made by God, sculpted from the finest clay and molded into an individual with otherworldly beauty. Hyunjin holds a torch-like stick, fire blazing at the tip of it, used as momentary safety. “I know somewhere we can go.”

He then points into the deep darkness of the cave. You don’t want to go deeper into the cave. Right where you stand is just fine, and most importantly, it’s safe. Hyunjin reads the hesitant look that’s displayed on your face, but he urges you. “You’ve got me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

And his smile, as beautiful and perfect as it is, seemed crooked, faked for just a moment. He holds out his hand, and without even thinking about it, you take his hand in yours as if you had no choice despite the unease boiling inside of you. His smile curves up again and he turns his head, now guiding you down the cold, dark cave. 

The entire time you’re walking, there’s nothing. Hyunjin doesn’t speak and neither do you. The walls on either side all appear the same, dirt colored and oddly smooth, with not even a small crater to make a difference. No matter how long you walk, nor how far, the dark pit continues into nothingness, an upsetting kind of emptiness. Despite Hyunjin being next to you, despite holding his hand, he’s like a stone wall. He makes no effort to speak, nor to even acknowledge you in the slightest despite leading you somewhere, it’s like you’re nothing but a mere bug, nothing to stress about or keep entertained. You feel nothing but loneliness at the pit of your stomach; the only things keeping you company are the thumping of your feet against the ground and the flickering of the flame Hyunjin holds. 

It’s a long time of walking before you realize that this cave is actually a tunnel. The tiny white dot of light grows bigger and bigger with every step taken. It feels like forever until you and Hyunjin reach the end of the tunnel. When you do, you’re happy to see light again. The sky now bright and blue, prohibiting any angry clouds of heavy rain. Air fresh and inviting, free of any worry and apprehension. Whatever doubts or dreadful feelings once felt before are now completely an afterthought. 

“C’mon let’s go.” Hyunjin discards the torch, dragging you with him by your hand, grip tight against you. 

He leads you over to a flower field where flowers ranging in color, size, and species reside. The field is colorful, bright and happy, like a source of glee. Inviting you over by whisper—maybe it’s a honey-filled hum—so sweet and kind. The deeper you walk into the flower field, you notice how enticing the air smells—sweet like a pastry, yet fresh like petrichor. The longer you and Hyunjin walk, hand and hand, the more at ease and loose you feel, almost drunk, mouth welling up with excess saliva. The two of you eventually reach a point to rest, laying on the grass, no words exchanged between you two. Simply just basking in the sun, deeply breathing in the fragrance of the nature that surrounds you. 

There’s a passage of time before you start to feel it; an itch that’s tempting you to scratch; a sudden burst in fire. A fire that begins at the pit of your stomach and continues to your core, flaring; spreading further throughout your body in static-like jolts. Your breaths change from relaxed and soft, quiet, to heavy and noticeable; and suddenly the atmosphere feels hotter, small beads of sweat collecting against your forehead. You shift, rubbing your thighs in effort to satiate your sudden cravings, wanting to grind your hips up in search of friction. Growing more desperate and needy by the second. 

This is when you look towards Hyunjin, rolling onto your stomach, head resting in your hands as you gaze up at his sitting form; and you actually notice him. You notice his nakedness, every single inch of him on display. He’s like a god, with his honey-like skin that glows and glistens in the sunlight. Toned and defined arm and thigh muscles that flex with nearly every movement he makes. He was meant to be admired, made to be worshiped—having men and women alike kneeling at his feet and imploring him to fuck and defile them. If only you knew how much he agrees. These thoughts almost embarrass you, yet they feel so natural. And your eyes drip lower to admire Hyunjin’s more intimate parts. Cock hanging low, thick, and you’re not too sure if he’s hard or not but he’s big. Mouth watering as you admire his dick: the natural curve to it, how there’s three thick, prominent veins that disperse along his shaft (at least from what you can see at this angle) that are pulsing, just begging for your tongue to roll over them. 

You’re pulled away from your fantasy when Hyunjin clears his throat. With an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in his eye, he gives a small smile to you, softly, “You need something from me?”

“Maybe,” You wink at him. You sit up to face him, hand making contact with his knee, fingertips trailing up and down his thigh in a teasing matter. You get a little closer to him, skin against skin, eyes fixated on his cock as your fingertips dance against his inner thigh.

That’s when Hyunjin kisses you, lips soft and plump; and when he presses them against your lips you feel like you're in heaven. At first, your lips barely touch, meeting in small pecks, sweet kisses that eventually deepen into something desperate. The kisses are open mouthed, wet and sloppy, Hyunjin’s tongue makes its way into your mouth naturally, exploring inside of you. The kiss only breaks a few times; when you place your hands flat against Hyunjin’s chest, pushing away slightly just to get air. Each time the kiss breaks, Hyunjin smiles with a small chuckle, licking his lips before leaning in again, forehead pressed to yours. 

You break the kiss once more, now focusing more on Hyunjin’s cock. Spitting onto your hand and wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing lightly. Tight fist working up and down Hyunjin’s length, biting your lip when you feel him twitch within your hand. He bites his lip, holding back a moan. Hyunjin stops you before you get too deep into it, instead choosing to take the lead. 

Hyunjin plants another kiss to your lips before kissing down your neck, trying his best to take his time to really savor you, but he soon grows impatient. Pushing you down flat against the grass. Quick, wet kisses in several places down your body before he plants one last kiss right above where he really wants to be. There, he wastes no time getting to work, tongue slithering out almost snake-like to lick against your cunt. He really takes in the first taste of his meal, wetness sitting against his tongue, practically melting in his mouth, he moans. He dives in once again, lips and tongue against your cunt, licking and sucking and moaning; fully savoring you. 

“Taste so fucking good,” He breathes once to come up for air, not that he actually needs it. Continuing to lap at your cunt, lips kissing and sucking at your clit, moaning into your heat. Hands coming to your thighs to grip, fingernails piercing, spreading you open wider for him. 

You grind against his face, hands instinctively going to his hair, fingers tangling within it and pulling with eagerness. Hyunjin groans into you at the slight sting of you pulling at his hair. Tongue not letting up against your clit, following your cunt with every movement you make, not letting you get a break from the feeling of him against you. His mouth domes around your clit, sucking you in, teeth lightly grazing against your bud, momentarily making your back arch. Mid arch, Hyunjin slips two fingers into you. Slight sting as he stretches you out, long digits buried to the knuckles inside of you upon initial thrust. 

Soon planting open mouthed kisses against your cunt, fingers working their way in and out of you at an obnoxious pace, curling naturally. Between Hyunjin’s tongue and fingers, in combination with his lips planting kisses against your cunt in between sloppy licks, it’s all too overwhelming. Cunt clenching around his fingers, pulling them in to beg for more, which Hyunjin promptly gives. Fingers fucking into you faster, his other palm pressing down directly against your pelvis. 

It’s all too much, but you don’t want it to stop. The feeling of your impending orgasm has you shaking, practically vibrating, unable to brace yourself for it. Tears pooling down the side of your face as you moan out for him. The tips of his fingers repeatedly hit the soft, gushy spot deep inside of you, biting his lip as he watches your face contort. Body stiffening within his hold, unallowed to thrash around, only able to take what he’s giving you. Though unable to completely relax into it, fighting off the feeling of eventual bliss. 

Hyunjin lets out a breathy moan at your defiance. Thumb massaging your clit, slowly but surely dragging you further off the edge. Hyunjin finally gets you to relax into his touch, into the feeling of temptation fully engulfing your soul. That’s when it takes over. Your vision blurs, almost going black, mouth agape as you let out cracked moans. Chest getting hot, tightening as you cum, releasing all stress and tension, absolutely melting into this state that makes you feel like you’re floating. Yet your body is only laid out in the grass, legs spread wide for him, as your cunt spills all over his fingers, wetness squirting all over Hyunjin’s forearm and thighs. Tongue desperately trying to lap up whatever he can as his fingers slip away from your cunt. The palm of his hand coming down against your sore cunt once, making you moan out and close your thighs, back arching, pain stinging in the best possible way that leaves you aching for more. Not fully satisfied. 

Hyunjin is kneeling over you now, a large hand around his cock. Angry red tip all pretty and glossed with precum that dares to fall onto your skin like delicious raindrops. His cock twitches in his hand, blood rushing, pulsing in the veins that decorate his shaft. It all just makes you think about finally having his cock in you. The burning of the stretch, the feel of him reaching places that haven’t been accessed before, not to mention the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, ounce by ounce. 

When Hyunjin pushes into you, you nearly lose your breath, caught in a long inhale. He’s nice enough to push into you slowly, but it’s only because he wants to savor the feeling (though, Hyunjin fully intends to use you however he wants for as long as he pleases). His cock is thick, stretches you beyond anything you’ve experienced before; though instead of being painful, your body is laced, wrapped in pleasure, and the sensation of thrill rushes through your veins. You spread your legs further apart, welcoming more of Hyunijn, hoping that he pushes into you deeper; overcome with desire and want. 

“So fucking wet,” Hyunjin pins his cock deeper into you, pulling out quickly, teasingly. “Need more of me?”

You nod frantically, bottom lip slipping away from the clutches of your teeth. When you look up at Hyunjin, his eyes are fixated on your cunt. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, swirling over his bottom lip, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyebrow. He’s concentrated, breathing so heavily that he almost begins emitting an inhumane growl, but he dials it back quickly. Instead of pushing all of his length inside of you, Hyunjin pulls out completely, tapping the head of his dick against your cunt, sliding his cock from left to right against your clit. You watch as he does this, listening to the pornographic sound of your wetness, cunt clenching around nothing, just begging to finally be filled. 

“Please…” You find yourself begging. Eyebrows strung together as you rock your hips up and down, trying to catch Hyunjin’s cock only for him to move away, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hand comes down harsh against your cunt in succession, serving as a warning. 

“So cockhungry, can’t you be patient?” Hyunjin continues his tease, repeated light slaps against your cunt with his dick. His cock is replaced by his hand, two fingers dragging down from your clit to your slit, thrusting them into you quickly. Two fingers are replaced by three, and three, by four. He moves quickly, tips of his fingers curled and hitting exactly where you need them. He fucks your moans out of you, reveling in the way that your cries spill out just like the wetness of your cunt, and he’s barely doing anything but fingering you. And you’re this fucked up, melting into his fingers, giving him nearly everything he wants. “Always so pathetic and slutty.”

Agreements slip from your mouth, just in hopes that he’ll give you what you need if you’re good for him. Hyunjin just laughs at you, you’re certainly the cutest plaything he’s had—he knows he’s got to take his time with you. Almost wanting to slip his thumb inside of you as well, Hyunjin decides against it, continuing to fuck you with four of his fingers, still unrelenting in his pace. You, however, are lost for words; taking every ounce of what Hyunjin is giving you. A burning sensation rising in the pit of your stomach, hips rising from the ground, but Hyunjin never stops. Even when you’re leaking all over him, thighs shaking and threatening to close around his arm, he doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you; not until he’s sure he’s got every ounce from you. Cum dripping down his arm as he takes and takes from you, forcing you to squirt all over him and yourself once again. Sliding his fingers out of you with yet another slap against your cunt.

His hand is around his cock again—wet with your cum, smearing it all over his cock—squeezing at its base as he brings his tip to your entrance. But he teases again, merely slapping his cock against your cunt. You arch into him, grinding your hips against his cock but Hyunjin makes no notice of you and your antics. Eventually getting bored, pulling his cock away from you. 

“Kneel,” He speaks curtly, standing. However, you do not move fast enough for his liking. “Don’t make me have to do it for you.” 

He does anyway. Grabbing you by the hair, dragging you up and forcing you onto your knees, skin grinding into the grass, sure to have bruises on them. Hyunjin’s hand stays in your hair, tugging as his free hand wraps around his cock. He yanks your head to the side, proceeding to slap his cock against your cheek, precum oozing from the tip. 

“Open.” He says, and you promptly follow his instructions. “Looks like I’ve got a smart one.” 

Hyunjin spits into your mouth, globs of saliva coating your tongue. His cock closely follows, dipping the tip in and out of your mouth quickly. He shifts, though, choosing to slide his entire length into your mouth, lips closing around him; but Hyunjin doesn’t allow it. Cock sliding out of your mouth, resulting in Hyunjin slapping you on the cheek with it again; saliva and cum sticking to your cheek. “Keep your mouth open wide.”

You adjust for him, just wanting to be able to take him and satisfy his cravings. He slides his cock back into your mouth, fully, giving minimum time to adjust to neither his speed nor his size. Mouth stretched to capacity, jaws aching and burning but Hyunjin is completely relishing in all the gagging and choking you do. You’re getting dizzier the longer his dick is in your mouth, tip kissing, nearly ramming, the back of your throat due to Hyunjin’s pacing. You feel like you’re on fire but yet you’re still able to relax into it. It isn’t long before you start moaning around his cock, absentmindedly rocking your hips back and forth whenever you taste a hint of the salty sweet substance. Hyunjin then pulls out, saliva spilling all over your chin and connecting in tiny stings to his cock. Smacking your cheek with his cock another three times, erupting in a full belly laugh, smiling at the way you’re just a completed fucked out mess, barely registering a thing he’s doing or saying to you. 

“Look at that,” Hyunjin releases you from his clutches. He pushes you back by your shoulder, making you catch yourself from falling back with the palms of your hands. When you look down, you’re completely soaked, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the ground, pooling messily onto a leaf, spilling off of its edges and soaking into the dirt beneath it. “Fucking filthy little mess you’ve made. Cunt just begging to be fucked, huh?” 

The question is rhetorical but you still nod; even going as far as to whine a little bit, hips moving seemingly without your control. Hyunjin takes pleasure in this small action, kneeling down to your level. He licks his fingers, noting that he doesn’t need to at all, and swipes them over your clit, one, two times before his ring and middle finger are sliding into your cunt. Fingertips meeting the exact place you need them each time he slides them into you. You’re clenching around his fingers now, and Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling away from you.

“Turn around.” You obey, turning on your hands and knees, swinging your ass in the air. He continues with his teasing, and at this point you’re nearly sobbing, wondering if he’ll ever actually give you what you want. Pathetic chants and whines spilling from your mouth as you push your ass against Hyunjin, unable to control yourself; thinking with your cunt instead of your brain. 

Hyunjin spits down onto you, and you can feel the glob of spit slide down from your asshole to your cunt, tickling its way down your clit. Hyunjin, though, slides the head of his cock from your clit, upwards, collecting his spit and your wetness in the process. He teases the tip at the rim of your tight hole, teasing at it. But when you push your ass towards Hyunjin, he pulls away, tsk-ing in the process. 

“Silly little play thing,” Hyunjin gives a cold, almost threatening laugh. “I think I need to teach you a lesson on patience, hm?” 

The threat has you pleading with him, repeated apologies dancing off your tongue, ultimately not acknowledged. Hyunjin loves to hear the sounds of your begs and pleads, but ultimately, the words you say do not matter to him—it all means nothing. Hyunjin marches at the beat of his own drum, and in situations like this, when he’s got a perfect piece of flesh like you beneath him, everything that he says, goes. And right now, he’s perfectly fine with teasing you over and over and over again. 

Slapping his cock against your cunt once, twice, Hyunjin slightly pushes the head of his cock against the rim of your ass. He continues applying pressure, fixated on stretching out the perfectly puckered hole. You whine at the feeling, slowly inching away from it, but Hyunjin holds your hips still. Pushing and pushing, slowly, until finally he slides the head of his cock into your tight hole. Hyunjin moans out at how your hole tightens around him, welcoming him inside. He does nothing, just stays like that, moaning and ignoring your pleas for him to do something. It’s not until you feel the side of his hand brush up against you cunt that you realize Hyunjin has got a hand around his shaft, getting himself off while the tip of his cock is in your ass and you’ve got nothing to do except for lay there and accept it, with your ass in the air and your face against dirt. 

His moans increase as he fucks his hand around his cock faster; and if it werent for his other hand holding you in place, you’d at least try to fuck back on him through the stretch of the pain. As Hyunjin exhales, letting out a deep groan of a moan, you feel the rush of warm liquid shooting into you. You moan in response as Hyunjin makes a mess of you with his cum, filling you up, trying to keep it all inside until he pulls out and it all, inevitably, leaks out of your hole, pooling around your cunt. 

Hyunjin wastes no time, cock sliding into your cunt with ease due to your wetness and his cum; but the stretch is intense, more than you initially expected. You tighten up a bit, resisting, though you want to relax. You can’t hold your arch perfectly any longer but that’s the least of your worries—the only thing on your mind being cock. Hyunjin slides another inch into you. Maybe it’s because of all the teasing, or the fact that you’ve already cum twice, but he’s not even halfway inside of you and it feels like he’s reached the depths of your soul already. His hand reaches around, fingers coming in contact with your clit in hopes of helping you ease up. 

“Created just for me,” Hyunjin breathes out, voice rough with possession. “Made just for me. Only me.” 

He continues with his ownership of you, voice dipping deeper as his words become mostly obscenities. You don’t hear it. Or perhaps you can’t hear it. Maybe you don’t want to hear the vile things he’s saying. You’re overtaken, caught up by the intense, high pitch ringing that is worming its way through your ear canal, planting and fertilizing clashing waves of static all around your brain. 

His hand wraps around your neck. It feels nothing like the soft, once heavenly hands that had been massaging all over your skin. These hands are rough, calloused and rigid palms that venture into freakishly long, boney fingers; with nails like claws that pierce into the side of your neck right behind your ear. Your eyes remain closed, fearing that if you open them that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, something that your mind would be unable to comprehend visually. A feeling of spiritual discomfort crawls up your back, causing you to arch, shivering at the same moment Hyunjin works his cock deeper into you, stretching you further; mentally and physically—of which he insists on doing, wanting to bend you to his will and break you beyond anything you’ve experienced. 

Hyunjin pulls you back to him, hips unrelenting. Teeth, sharp like razors, piercing down into the flesh of your shoulders; nearly enough for blood to start trickling down your skin, but that does not occur. His teeth, however, do leave indents in your skin; that, if he’s lucky enough, will be permanent. His lips meet your ear next, a brief kiss planted to the lobe before whispering in a rather gruff voice, unlike that of his usual. “Inferior to me. Mine to claim.” 

When he cums there’s an immense amount of it, sticky and warm. Hyunjin makes sure to be fully buried inside of you, cock seemingly swelling in size as he forces you to take all his cum inside. Hyunjin is selfish, not waiting a single moment, and barely pulling out before he begins to thrust back in. Cum coats his cock, almost daring to drip onto the ground in raindrop-like shapes. He refuses to allow that, however, fucking all of his cum back into you. His thighs, which originally felt like the silkiest, softest flesh, now coarse and dry—except for the sticky cum running down them, connecting in slightly thick, white lines against your thighs—and fuzzy; thick. “Mine to possess.”

You slowly come to realize that Hyunjin has taken a different shape completely. No longer possessing the body of a man, he has turned into some kind of beast, something inhuman. He’s grown abnormally in size and you can tell because he’s holding you up as he fucks you, toes barely scraping the dirt. 

And as filthy and as frightening as it is, the line between fear and arousal is a very thin, blurry line. It leads you to come crashing down, partially due to the overstimulation, cunt spasming around Hyunjin’s cock, sucking in all his cum. You’re elated, completely delighted, mind elsewhere as you experience your high with Hyunjin fucking you through it. Hardly registering anything other than the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock stretching you out and the warmth of his cum—a sticky mess that’s leaking out both of your holes and staining your thighs. 

When you come to, you’re laying on Hyunjin’s chest. It’s still daylight out, the sun beaming as bright as ever, nearly blinding when you open your eyes. It takes a few moments to shake away the pure, drowsy euphoria you’re feeling, completely ravished by bliss; almost hypnotized. You prop your head up to look at Hyunjin, and the moment you do, it’s like there are trumpets sounding off all around you. You have a realization—no, a revelation—that things aren’t as they seem as you peer up at the brown-haired man. As queasiness makes a home in the pit of your stomach, all within two mere seconds, the wind picks up; howling in the distance, bustling within the branches of trees. 

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” For what might be the first time, your eyes meet his.

What words can be used to describe what you saw when you looked into the eyes of that thing? Petrifying? Nauseating? Surreal? It makes you want to close your eyes, however, when you do, the images you’ve seen seem as though they’ve been permanently printed against the black of your eyelids. Perhaps you can attempt to run away—and hide, praying to God that you’re not stalked and caught—but your muscles don’t respond to the neurons being sent by your brain. Perhaps you can find a way out of this dream, but your physical body seemingly refuses to acknowledge the call to wake up; only processing the utter fright in the images it created. The only thing you can do is stare into Hyunjin’s eyes, continuing to receive visions of which you hope you’ll be able to forget. 

His irises are a deep pool of black, displaying a particular flavor not only of loneliness but utter wickedness. The longer you stare into Hyunjin’s eyes the longer you are disillusioned, fully snatched away from all delusion of this former fairytale. Vision clouded by a thick, murky fog; fully spotlighting the shocks of visions you see in his eyes. 

A beast, creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen or imagined. The face of a man only oddly elongated with empty eye sockets and horns—covered in blood that only makes a mop of its fine hair—curled up into two spikes atop his head. A smile so wide it’s like it was carved in with a razor blade and charred, blackened and blood stained fangs hanging from its mouth. Its body, with its abnormally long limbs, is completely drenched in blood, dripping in pools all around the entity. Pieces of what you can only assume is a human—or even worse, you—discarded and littered around it without much thought or care. 

Flesh. Human meat. Limbs and bones and the insides—intestines, livers and hearts and muscle—all around you as this vision becomes reality; suddenly finding yourself within one meter of this monstrosity. The pool of blood coming up to your ankles, rising steadily. Pieces and pieces of the now deceased all around you, entirely mangled and minced. The creature holds pieces of meat within its claws, sharp nails piercing into the gray flesh, bits of meat stuck between its teeth as it tears into its victim. 

It is feeding. 

The situation becomes all the more frightening when the creature raises its head towards you. Despite it being eyeless, you know that you’re making eye contact, getting lost within the empty abyss that seems to be staring into the corners of your spirit. It’s wide smile never fading as it lurches, sprinting towards you faster than the blink of an eye. 

The transition from the dream world to the waking world is surreal, almost jarring. Especially since when you awaken, you’re paralyzed, body stiff with static crawling all over your skin. The darkness of your bedroom surrounds you, both familiar and completely unknown. You attempt to move around a little, opening and closing your eyes multiple times, attempting to raise at least a finger; though falling short of progress to escape this feeling, left to stare straight up at your ceiling. 

Then there’s the boom. A loud, static-like noise; deep as if something really heavy had dropped—but you’re unsure if it’s coming from the dark corner on your right or elsewhere within your home. A thing that simultaneously occurred and did not happen. The speed at which fear rises within you is faster than the speed of light. Heart racing as the physical manifestation of dread drops to the bottom of your stomach—fear making its home in the back of your throat, tightening as your swallow, seemingly making it difficult to breathe. It consumes you, a heavy burden, too insufferable to support, unable to put up a fair fight against it. 

Don’t Look. 

Curiosity gets the best of you. You shift your eyes to the right and in the far corner of the bedroom is a space that’s significantly darker than anything else in the room; like a void. Perhaps it’s because the light from your plug-in air freshener doesn’t reach that area of the room. And perhaps you’re tired and still reeling from that strange dream, but you swear you see movement as you glance over. You want to look away, you have to look away, but curiosity sinks its claws into you. Hypnotizing and you're paralyzed with fear of what could happen. Then, the darkness in the corner grows, getting larger as if whatever it is has been expanding, standing up to greet you. 

Then it disperses. Leaving you alone, shaking and sweating in the cold, unwelcoming darkness of your room, finally able to move and process things. 

© PLANETDREAM 2023

#🌑 — vivid dreams #🌑 — vividdream.skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut

[agroupiewhore]

Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Enzo and a little imagine with him. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate but let me know if you like this etc. I am always welcome to feedback/ thoughts/ comments/ concerns. Sorry in advance for grammar and spelling and punctuation

🐟🐳🐙🔵🪱

(THIS MANS JAWLINE IS MORE STRUCTURED THAN MY LIFE)

*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality. And warnings for making out etc, nothing too explicit (PG-13)

✨️ There is no way you ever have to carry your own bag. This man is rushing in to help you. Whether that's your handbag on date night or all of the shopping bags after your weekly grocery shop run. And yes, he refuses to make 2 trips to the car.

✨️ Speaking of weekly shops runs, Enzo is that boyfriend who always pushes the trolley/ cart.

✨️ Matching Adidas trackies. Never quite knowing whose joggers/ t shirts/ jackets that belonged to.

✨️ Wearing his boxers after sex to go down and make a fresh batch of coffee.

✨️ Is always entertaining you with unusual facts and information about Uruguay and is keen for you to learn and embrace his culture and he is keen to learn more about yours.

✨️ Matching your nail varnish to his bow tie/ tie/ shirt colour etc.

✨️ Midnight beach walks where you tell eachother all your hopes and dreams and desires, all the 'deep stuff' you feel you can't tell eachother when it's daylight as it seems to real.

✨️ This man can dance. He has so much natural rhythm and is such a natural. He'll always be the first one up on the dance floor at parties and cast parties and would much rather spend the time on the dance floor with you rather than talking. Also at home will put on whatever dance music he wants and will just start dancing with you.

✨️ Dressing up as Kylo Ren and Rey for Halloween. "Well I mean... I think we should go as them, it would look good" "Fine"

A Perfect Day

You went to open the fridge to find the pouring cream for your iced coffees but were distracted by the note attached to the front, wrote in Enzo's beautiful cursive handwriting. You smiled to yourself as you read it. He always left the most beautiful love notes and this one was no exception. It simply read "You're my happy place". You took the note off the fridge and folded it neatly and placed it in your dressing gown pocket. You were saving them all, for what you weren't sure, but you pictured a future for you and enzo, maybe one day sticking all the notes down into a scrap book and passing it onto your daughter. To show her how much she should be loved by another. You smiled at the thought and opened the fridge, finally, to find the pouring cream. After Enzo had finished filming, touring and surving the awards season the two of you finally had some time and moved in together. The first thing he had done was gone out and found the most fanciest coffee machine. You guys hadn't even bought a bed yet at that point. You finished making your drinks and went back upstairs. Enzo was sat up in bed, shirtless.

"Well damn, it's hot this morning." You laughed as you sat back in bed next to him, being careful not to spill anything. "Here my angel." You passed him the iced coffee. He carefully took it from you and took that first heavenly sip.

"Hmm, perfecto." He said closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. "I do not know how I survived without having you around, only you can make my coffee right."

"I'm sure there is someone else who could, I could always teach them, it's not too hard. There aren't any crazy secret ingredients." You replied "I just make it with love, I think that's why it's so good." Enzo leaned over and kissed you. "I love you so much, mi amor." He said as he took your hand. "What would you like to do today?"

"We need to go shopping to get a couple things and I was thinking maybe we could have a go at making our own pizzas for dinner?" You suggested, admiring him.

"You always have the best ideas, I have a couple more things to add to the list so please don't let me forget my love." Enzo said as he got out of bed. It would never get old seeing how beautiful he was. It was like he had been sculpted by the world's most incredible artist whose attention to detail no one was able to match. You felt so lucky to not only be with one so handsome but to also have discovered someone with a soul that was equally as beautiful. Enzo gave all of his love and time to you. He was always there, his strength and resilience gave you strength. He was so honoured and humbled to have been given such an important role in the film and the sincerity in which he handled his part was inspiring to you. He never got angry when you would call him in the middle of the night due to the time differences or when he had come home to see that you had used his entire bottle of his most expensive cologne. You had missed him a lot while he was away filming so decided one night to spray a little of it on to the pillow next to you, then a little onto your wrist; just to make it seem like he was there with you, however next thing you knew you'd unintentionally sprayed the entire bottle around the house and it was now empty. Enzo found it to be a most romantic gesture and when he left again to complete filming took a pot of your lip balm to apply each night so it could feel like you'd just kissed him. You heard the shower turn on and got up from the bed again to decide what to wear for today. It was a simple errand day so you grabbed a pair of Adidas joggers and a black long sleeved top.

"Wow, you look so beautiful." He said staring at you.

"What? These?" You laughed. "It's a step up from pajamas."

"You look perfect, I love it so much I will also wear mine." He said as he began looking in the wardrobe.

"Maybe one day you could surprise everyone and wear Nike." You laughed. You admired him once again as he got dressed and then you both finished your coffees. Ofcourse Enzo insisted on driving and you sat in the passenger seat and played DJ. Enzo was a cautious driver, especially whilst you were in the car. He could never understand men who drove dangerously to try and impress their partners. How could he risk your life? He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to you, especially if he was the cause of it. You thought is was sweet how he was always so gentle and careful with you. He parked up outside the supermarket.

"I can get my door." You said quickly, opening it as soon as he turned off the ignition. A few times Enzo had managed to run around to open your car door whilst you rummaged around for your handbag or wallet. He was always the gentleman.

"You know I love opening it for you." He said sweetly as he linked his hand with yours. "I'll push the cart."

"I wasn't even going to try." You laughed. Enzo had to push the trolley. He just had to, it wasn't an option for you ever. It made him feel helpful and supportive. You took the list out of your pocket as you walked in with him and began looking down the aisles.

"We have to get these crisps, you'll love them." You said, standing on your tip toes.

"I got it baby." Enzo said, barely having to extend his arm to grab the pack. There were times when his height came in handy and this was certainly one of them. One time the two of you had a fight that had started off as a result of something so small and petty and then seemingly didn't stop and just kept getting worse and worse. It was the first night the two of you went to bed without apologies or saying how much you loved one another. The next day you didn't say a word to him, you'd returned from work and Enzo had moved all of your favourite snacks and drinks to the top shelves so you had no choice but to talk to him.

"And can you get those ones as well, my love. That flavour looks good too." You said pointing to the packet next to it.

"Anything for you." He said, grabbing everything you asked for. You carried on walking through the supermarket getting everything you needed to make pizza later.

"I'll get this." You said, putting your card on the card reader first.

"No, no!" Enzo insisted. "Baby, we talked about this".

"I'll pay." You said "It's fine honey". Enzo muttered in Spanish about how he should be the one paying. The two of you walked back to the car and together loaded the shopping into the back of the car and drove back.

"Are you going to let me carry any of the shopping?" You asked.

"Not a chance." Enzo laughed and leaned over to kiss you. You kissed him back and gently tugged on the back of his hair to be able to kiss down his beautifully structured jawline.

"I love you so much." You said, between kisses.

"I love you so much more." He said. He kissed the tip of your nose and rested his forehead against yours. His soft eyelashes gently brushing your skin. "I got the shopping, don't worry." You got out of the car and opened the door for him. Enzo grabbed all the bags and followed you in.

"Baby, one day all the bags are going to break and I don't know what you will do." You said as you began putting everything away. "Leave the pizza ingredients out, my love."

"Anything for you, I will cut mine in to a heart shape." He said, doing as you asked him. You smiled at him.

"I might try and do a star or something, I don't know." You said. "Maybe the shape of a coffee bean."

"You know me so well." He said smiling as the last of the shopping was put away. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning a beautiful pink colour. You went out onto the balcony and looked out. The view was beautiful, just like your life now. You heard the doors slide open and Enzo stepped outside. You continued to look out as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. He kissed your neck gingerly taking in the smell of your perfume and moisturiser. The two of you fitting together perfectly, the final missing piece of the jigsaw to your life.

#lsdln #the society of the snow #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic #imagine

[ss-skyearn]

Walk With Me

❝In love with the idea of loving you.❞ 

PAIRING : Lee Minho x female!reader.

WORD COUNT : 4k.

GENRE : Smut, Fluff (wow no angst for once.)

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Past angst, established relationship, feelings and emotions, they're in love (to no one's surprise), Minho with long hair, mentioned Soobin.

SMUT WARNINGS : First time together, hair pulling (not the rough kind; minho realises he enjoys his roots being tugged at oops-, this bit inspired by this post by @tasteracha), voyeurism, public sex (late at night, so one witnesses it), unprotected intercourse, sweet lovemaking, so much love and feelings *sob*

A/N : Writting fluff is nowhere near what I'm good at, so feedback is really appreciated. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

"Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now. 

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations. 

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

"Meet me outside?"

The laughter of your girlfriends drowns out behind you as you weave your way out of the single room you've all gathered in, despite having been allotted seperate ones.

"Outside?"

"Yeah, outside," you don't need to be next to him to know that he's anxiously bouncing off the balls of his feet, rocking back and forth with his bottom lip caught between bunny teeth you flick your tongue across everytime you kiss him, without fail.

You'd have to make it a point to let him know of your adoration for them the next time he decides to take your breath away with his hot mouth.

And make no mistake, that's what kissing him is like, like losing your breath, like gaining your breath all over again; like being locked in an airtight, evacuated room, like being put on the ventilator with nothing but pure oxygen being pumped straight to your lungs.

It's dizzying either way. Whether it's being deprived of the gush of wind through your airways, or being forced to choke up on all the withheld supply of air all at once, it hurts.

It hurts to be with him. But you'll choose to be hurt, to be on the receiving end of the pain, if it means he's the inflictor, the hand on the trigger.

"Right now?"

"Yeah, if that's okay," he's nervous, something you both are a lot around each other from time to time.

"Uh, okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, good. That's good," you hear shuffling, and imagine him moving from one foot to the other, "I'll be waiting outside the dorms."

"Outside the— what if someone sees you?"

"They know anyway."

Which is the truth. Inherently the private person, you'd asked Minho to keep your newly budding relationship a secret from your peers, a request he'd agreed to almost immediately. Ever the understanding and gentle soul, he'd not once asked to go public with you, even though Hyunjin told you how he sometimes drunkenly mumbles about wanting to hold your hand when Soobin gets a little too close, about wanting to get you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when he knows you haven't slept for more than two hours, about kissing you under the lights on prom night when all couples got their fancy on and indulged in each other after a tough semester.

He wants, yearns, craves.

But you'd been cruel enough to deny him that. Trust issues and fear of commitment aside, you'd been afraid to tell people, to introduce him as your boyfriend, because saying that aloud would make it all the more real, and you'd no longer be able to control the flutter to your heart every time he appeared in your peripheral vision, you'd no longer been able to hold back the intensity of your feelings that seeming only grow with each passing hour, minute, second you spend looking at him.

It had scared you. Understandably so.

Caught up in over your head, you hadn't stopped to consider what it all meant for him, what he might perceive this as. He had no way of knowing what you actually felt, not unless you told him.

It all happened a week ago, when your phone dinged with a notification from Hyunjin. Instead of telling you, he sent you a video this time, a video of Minho slumped back against the wall of the speakeasy you both frequent, eyes shut with his head resting on the concrete.

dumplin [2:57 A.M.]

VID_3653833_219389.mp4

he's been like this for half hr

"I love this place," his intoxicated form had rasped in the video.

Hyunjin who was behind the camera had snorted, asking the reason for the sudden confession.

Minho had grinned, all toothy, bunny smile on display, "I come here all the time with my girlf—" only to stop dead in his tracks, eyes snapping open, neck suddenly ramrod straight with panic all over his drowsy features.

"Your girl..?" Hyunjin had prompted from behind the camera, barely stifling his chortle.

"Uh, my, my. Oh god, I don't know. I don't know what I was saying."

He always was a bad liar. Even in his hazy eyes, even through the shaky video, you could see the hurt, the pain behind his actions as he rubbed the heel of his palms against his eyes, chugged a bottle of water to sober himself up.

"It's okay, Minho. I know. We all know."

"Know what?" he had asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"We know you're dating the dance society president."

His eyes had widened, a fresh surge of agitation creeping its way onto his otherwise relaxed face.

"No. No, that's not true. Who told you that?"

Hyunjin had chuckled and told him he was the one who introduced you guys, and the other six seated on the table were among the very few people who did know of your apparently secret relationship.

"I don't know what you're talking about. She and I are just frei—"

The video had cut off there and half an hour later, you found yourself asking the local security guard for directions to 'The Late Bite'.

The bejewelled smile he cast your way as you entered the dining space lasted only a fraction of a second, him going back to pretending you were mere acquaintances and your heart had all but given up.

Marching to him, you had gotten him up on his feet. Ignoring the confused, almost frightened look to his face, you had for once asked your brain to shut the fuck up, and finally given in.

You kissed him. You kissed him on the mouth, swallowing the gasp he let out, ignoring the gasps the people in the diner let out, cradling his face with care befitting a porcelain doll, for truly, he was. As fragile as fine china, as delicate as the first rays of sun hitting the horizon.

Not the tough guy he pretends to be, the hard exterior, the unbreakable shell. You know him to be none of those things.

The dazed smile, the look of blatant relief he'd given you before collapsing on you, mumbling a small breathy, "thank you," was all you needed to know that you'd made no mistake. This was how it was supposed to be, always.

And so it had began.

He held your hand when Soobin got a little too close, he got you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when you were running on two hours of sleep, he held your nape and kissed you under the nightlights, because prom had passed by then but it didn't matter to him, he had kissed you, kissed you, and kissed you some more, till your head got fuzzy from the lack of air supply, till it was physically impossible to stay connected for even another second.

And that's how you find yourself here, making your way out of the girls' dorm in the quiet of the night, it being well past midnight by now— not before checking your reflection in the common bathroom once, fluffing out your hair, splashing some cold water onto your face.

He's standing under a street lamp with his hands into the pockets of his fleece jacket, unmatching with the track set he wears underneath.

He's the single most picky person you know when it comes to styling outfits, deciding what goes well with what, which colour compliments the undertones of another one. Well, besides you of course. Your friends teased you both about how you were practically cut from the same cloth, the same material but different textures, so alike in all the places that mattered, so different in all the places that didn't so much.

So the beige jacket atop the cherry red track set stands out a little too much, and your heart thumps a little too fast at the possibility of his eagerness to see you outweighing his need to look presentable at all times.

You shuffle forward, heart picking up its erratic staccato, the same way it does every time he's within a mile's radius, threatening to jump out of the confines of your ribcage, trying to lunge for what was once so out of reach, for far too long.

He's reclined against the street lamp, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cool metal pole, allowing the ombre light to fall straight onto his fluffy mop of hair. It's unstyled, freshly washed. The caramel tone compliments the muted yellow light streaming down his face, painting him, drowning him.

Your heart aches from running a mile a minute.

Or from feeling so full. You aren't exactly sure.

"Hi," you squeak tentatively, not wanting to disturb him when he looks so peaceful. And beautiful. God, he looks beautiful.

His eyes flutter open. Your heart breaks open with them.

He forgoes pleasantries in favour of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest, and you hold him back, hug him back, squeeze him like you never want to let go. Because really, you don't. Not now, not ever.

"Where's your jacket?" he mumbles into your shoulder, stroking his face back and forth against it, much like the stray cat that visits your dorm room at nights does.

"Mm?"

He chuckles, "It's cold out. Why didn't you put on a jacket?"

"Oh," you pull back, there's pink dusting your cheeks, and you really hope it passes as the consequence of the chilly night, "I guess I forgot."

He smiles wide, affectionate and all kinds of pretty, and the tear in the front of your heart deepens, curling a little to the back, threatening to split it into two.

It's not so impossible a situation, you suppose. Lee Minho is very much capable of shattering your heart into a million pieces with a single smile, then healing it back with a kiss to your temple, breaking it along new cracks, then moulding it back together with the same blowtorch he uses to melt sugar atop his Crème Brûlée, the blue flame made all the more hot with searing kisses, aimed at trapping you into this cycle where he plays with your heart, keeping it with him to do as he pleases.

And you'd let him. Let him have his way with you, to make you, unmake you, only to make you again.

You're his clay, and he's your artist.

You're brought back to the present as a sudden warmth engulfs you, and when you look over your shoulder to see the beige fleece jacket dropped around you, it warms you from the inside too.

"Hey, you'll catch the cold, you have an assessment tomorrow too—"

He shrugs, "I'll live."

"Minho, seriously I'm fine, here take it back—"

"It doesn't match my fit anyway," he entwines your fingers together and begins slowly walking, guiding you along.

It's then that it clicks. Glancing down, you take note that the jacket actually goes with your outfit, and you refuse to pick up on the reason for this coincidence, for certainly, it's not one. It's planned, thought out.

You'll ignore it all the same. For the well being of your poor heart that's working overtime, your senses that are on high alert, your hand, so so warm engulfed in his large one.

"Where are we going?" you ask instead.

"Just a night walk," he begins, and you've spent enough time with him by now to know that his voice sounds bashful, the little shy lilt to it endlessly endearing, "wanted to spend some time with you."

You clutch at your chest with the other hand, exhaling a deep sigh, and squeeze his hand, praying that it's appreciation enough, that it compensates for your inability to verbally acknowledge his thoughtfulness.

But if there's one thing that he's, without a doubt, mastered about you, is your tells.

He knows when you're too abashed to outright admit it out loud that you appreciate him.

He knows when you're too overwhelmed to downright confess you're having trouble staying focussed.

He knows when you're too exhausted to unequivocally divulge your reluctance to anything social.

He just knows. But you don't; you don't know what you did to deserve this, to deserve him.

You still don't think you do, truth be told.

When you snap out of your daze, you both are no longer on campus grounds, walking along a lone street you don't recognise, lit by flickering lights threatening to give out any moment, but in a moment of vulnerability that surprises even yourself, you find you're not scared. Because Minho is with you, and as long as that stands, as long as you're lucky enough for that to stand, you know you're safe.

"Where are we going?" you echo your previous question.

But this time, he grins with a mischievous glint to his eye, looks you over and his pupils dilate, as if merely looking at you is enough to kickstart his heart into overdrive, "You'll see."

And see you do. Twenty minutes later, here you stand, bare feet pressed into the wet sand by the shore, both arms wrapped around his bicep, head resting on the trusty shoulder, humming along to the sound the breeze makes as it whisks past you.

"Are you cold?" he whispers, despite there being no one except the two of you on the beach at this time of day, taking your hands in his and swiping his thumb over your knuckles, assessing the answer for himself, lest you lie to not worry him. "Mm. No, you're not," he hums to himself, guiding your head back where it rested against the crook of his neck, only this time wrapping his own arms around, engulfing you in an embrace that speaks of warmth, of comfort, of love.

But for some reason you aren't sure of yourself, you resist, not taking his lead in going back to your previous stance, instead just staring into his eyes with something you don't know, but it seems he does, for his facial expression turns from surprised to lovestruck in the matter of a second.

He leans in, granting your silent request. Really, you don't know how he does it, almost like you don't have to say anything at all, for he hears you loud and clear without you having to utter a single word.

If what people say about having a soul person is true, he is yours.

And as your lips slot together, the waves behind you crash the loudest they have today, as if the nature is rejoicing, the elements exuberating, witnessing the collision of two beautiful souls, their stitching together into a single bracelet in the form of two bright pearls.

He is the black one, burning passion and quiet peace.

You are the white one, inherent perfectionist and loud existence.

You compliment each other, matching almost every piece of clothing in the wardrobe, neutralising when the other gets too much, burning along when the other gets dim.

"I love you."

You don't know what love means, what it stands for, what it entails.

But you're in love with the idea of loving him.

"I love you," you echo into his mouth, forgoing the "too" at the end because it makes it sounds like a passive confession, a favour returned, when it's easily the truest statement you have had to utter in all the time you've spent thinking about him, him, him.

"I love you, I love you," and alas, once you say it, you can't seem to stop, you want him to know, you want the whole world to know. You want to write it on the stars for the universe to read, that you are his, and he yours.

"I love you so goddamn much."

It hurts, it hurts so much, more than it did an hour ago when you caught sight of him standing outside your dorms. Now that your heart is aware of the gravity of what it feels for him, it just hurts.

When he pulls back, it's to hold your chin in the care of his palm, making you look at him, his eyes glittering with the beginnings of perspiration.

"I love you," he says simply.

To any onlooker, it might have seemed tame, insane maybe, for you two haven't been saying anything except the same three words in the last ten minutes.

But you know, only you know that they aren't the same words.

The first time he said it was to test the waters, to see if you would run away.

The first time you said was to check for yourself, did you love him?

The second and third time you said it was to tell your heart that yes, yes you did, you loved him more than you did anyone before, and it's a wonder how it took him saying it first for you to realise that.

The final time you said it, it was to him, to let him know that you did.

The final time he said it was to say yes, he knows, he knows that you do, that he knows the first two confessions were for your heart more than they were for him, that he's proud you've let down your walls enough to let him in, that he's grateful you've chosen him.

You suddenly find yourself descended on the shore, your back pressed into the cool sand that tickles your nape, Minho hovering over you with a look that can only be described with three words.

I love you.

"Be mine?" he says with wet kisses trailing up your jaw, stopping after every one to take in a deep inhale.

It's silly maybe, to say that when you're already dating but you know what he means, for you feel the same.

"I already am," you say as your body cants upwards, up, up, up, towards him, towards safety.

His hands trail down your body to where the waistband of your sweats sits, tracing along the diameter it transcends, looping his arm to the back to lift you up a tad more.

"Can I?"

You don't know what he's asking for, your motor and sensory neurons having stopped working, still chanting the same words over and over, 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou'.

So you nod, letting him undo the knot that rests on your lower stomach, letting him expose you in a manner most intimate, letting him have you for him, surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure.

When he sinks down on you, stretching you open for the very first time, it's with a groan you wish you could record, paste onto your eardrum, for every time a sound reaches the tympanic membrane, it would vibrate, carrying with it the symphony of the voice you want to hear every second of everyday.

As the initial euphoria of letting him in wears off, with him buried to the hilt, you look up at him, his soft brown hair falling down like curtains on either side of his temple, spilling over his nape that's suddenly too narrow to contain all the strands. And it's then that you remember saying you loved it whenever he was too busy and pushed back going to the salon, his long locks a guilty pleasure, your indulgence.

You reach your hand forward, entwining it with his silken strands, just holding, feeling, "Did you grow them out for me?"

"Yes," he whispers without a beat, as though waiting for you to take note of it without him having to say it first.

This time, the tears do trickle down your eyes, staring up at what you only appreciated from a distance.

"I can't believe t-this—" you choke out the last word when he begins moving, ever so slightly pulling back, pushing forward with a little more force, a little more ardour, the veins in his neck all the more prominent with the strain it takes to hold himself back from going faster.

You tug at his roots, a sharp hiss emanating from somewhere deep in his throat, the roll to his eyes evidence enough of how there's now another reason for him to keep his locks long enough to pull at.

He presses his body closer to yours, coming down on his elbows, kissing down the trail of your hot tears on even hotter skin underneath. It's his way of saying he's listening, an unspoken encouragement for you to continue, but also that it's okay if you don't.

But today is the day you've decided to bare it all to him, to not coware back, to let him know what only you have for what seems like forever.

"I s-saw you on the day of the orientation," you barely get out, coherence slipping past your fingertips much like the fine sand particles you're currently making love atop.

He stills, looking into your eyes, searching for something, "The very first day of college?"

You nod, stretch your lips into what you hope is a smile for your tears are cascading down with a current, sweeping anything and everything that dares come in the way of your route to him.

"That was like, five months ago," he seems incredulous, unbelieving that you were, in fact, the first to notice him and not the other way around.

Entangling your other hand into his hair, fingers brushing the one already slotted in there, you chuckle, "Yeah, it was like, five months ago. I had my eye on you for quite a while, pretty boy."

He doesn't buy the distraction you only half hoped he would, tenting his eyebrows into an upside down V, "And?" he prompts, yet again knowing that there's more to what you're saying.

"It's silly," you mumble, turning away from his gaze that puts your well being at risk.

A gentle finger to your chin, a swift sway of your face to pin you under the same gaze.

"Tell me." Simple as that, with no way out.

Maybe you don't want one.

"I-I saw you on the first day, a-and… I just, god you were so pretty, I thought— I wanted you already, but I thought you were a little too pretty, you know? And, and that eveyone would want you too, and you'd have so many options, ones better than me, and I'd have to get in line, and then—"

A firm press of lips, locked together in love and lust, in lieu of reassurance that you know is still coming.

"It was you for me, always," he says when he pulls back, "there's no line, no one else, just you. And me. Just us, hm?"

"Mm," you hum, losing yourself in the rhythm of his hips that have begun moving once again, small whimpers escaping right into his ear that is pressed against your cheek. Whether it's deliberate or not, you don't know.

He grasps onto one of your ankles, winding it around behind him, the space thus created allowing him to push in all the deeper.

"Oh god, Minho—"

His pace picks up when you pull his hair enough to cause a faint sting on his scalp, in addition to being a direct result of the way his name keeps overflowing past your lips.

You gasp, fighting for air, clutching onto his shoulders, afraid he'd slip away if you let go, "Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now.

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations.

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

© ss-skyearn 2023. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works is not allowed.

#lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know angst #minho smut #minho fluff #minho angst #kpop smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios

[ivyblossom]

Thank You

I'm so grateful that fandom is there and acting as the infrastructure where fanfiction can go and exist.

I realize anyone could just write fanfiction at any time and it could exist without a fandom to hold it. But people who have the creativity, strength, and courage to create things that don't have a place to exist are rare. Those are paradigm-shifters. Not everyone is a paradigm-shifter.

I'm not a paradigm-shifter. I think if I'd known that fanfiction had a place to go and exist when I was tiny, I would have started writing it the moment I could hold a pencil. But I didn't know, and without that infrastructure and a place to hold the thing, it's just so much harder to see it as an option. It's not always so easy to just do what you want, especially when you're younger or less confident, or if you still follow rules, or believe that rules like that are real things.

So whenever I see posts about the importance of feeding fanfic authors with kudos and comments, I hesitate a little. Because, sure. I get it. It's good to know you're not just shouting in the void, and the engagement with other people who dig your idea is absolutely amazing, it is. It feels great. Feedback is terrific. And I have been incredibly lucky in that regard for the whole of my fanfiction career to date. I wrote shitty fanfiction when I started out, and someone was kind enough to very gently school me to make me better, too. So what would I know about voids and silence? Nothing.

But I can't stop marvelling at the fact that I get to write the thing I feel compelled to write, this thing that's fighting its way out of me and will keep clawing at me until it gets out, because there's a place for it to go where it will be understood and it can exist. I can write it and then look back at it and tell it it's pretty and I love it, and then I can put it somewhere where it can live and where it can be understood, where it will part of a larger community of things that look like it, where it belongs. And then I can look at it and say, there you are. You're where you need to be now, and I'll always know where to find you.

Other people engaging with it is a whole other level, and it is so incredibly delightful, but the relief and pleasure of having what amounts to permission to lovingly expel a super self-indulgent, or silly, or wacky story and see it safely home is so immense I don't know how to properly articulate it.

Comments and kudos are amazing, I love them and I'm grateful for them, and there are so many brilliant and insightful people in fandom who have turned my world upside down with their commentary. Their work in that regard matters a lot, it's life-changing stuff, but comments and kudos aren't the cost of admission. Comments and kudos are fanwork in the same way that fanfiction or fanart is fanwork, as far as I'm concerned. As a fanfiction writer, my fanfiction exists because I wanted it to and I need it to. It's my self-care, it's my hobby, it's my joy. Engagement with it is fanwork and a gift, not payment.

Thank you for being the community where fanfiction can go and exist. Thank you for making space for it to belong somewhere. Thank you.

#grateful for fanfiction readers #grateful for fandom #grateful for AO3 #This is the other thanksgiving day right?

[tippenfunkaport]

I have no idea how to say this without sounding… pretentious? arrogant? but nothing makes me more annoyed than when people comment on my fics like they think they are giving me writing advice or craft feedback. Because, first of all, I did not ask for your opinion and it’s just plain rude to give unsolicited criticism.

Secondly, I know how to write, pal. Like… literally. For pay, teach classes on it, the whole shebang.

But the whole fun of fanfic for me is not having to care about doing it right and just writing whatever I want in the way I haven’t been able to do since I was 10 years old and writing in a glittery notebook on long car rides. As sad as it sounds, knowing how to write properly takes lot of the fun out of it and I cannot tell you how enjoyable it is to let myself write the whole padded, self indulgent version of the scene in my head with no fat trimmed, no darlings killed, no effort to map out the needs & wants, no worry about if I can sell this or if I nailed the market. I can just throw whatever nonsense down on the page I feel like because the only demographic I have to please is me.

Which is not to say that I deliberately write badly! Sometimes I like showing off. But most times I just want to make the blorbos hang out and phone it in. I'm obviously not putting the effort into a fanfic I'm posting for fun like I would a paid gig and nothing kills the fun of it like someone dissecting and evaluating it like I'm still at work.

Trying my hardest or not, I’m writing the way I choose for ME and sharing it for FREE and even if I was a brand new writer who had no idea what I was doing, I assure you that when fanfic writers say they want comments, they are not looking for feedback or critique, they are just looking for a thank you for their time and to know what parts you liked about it.

That’s it.

#fanfic woes #fanfic writing #fic writing #writing #writer #writers #writers on tumblr #writerscorner #writing community #writblur #writblr #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfic etiquette #writeblr community #writerblr

[jane-alma]

Advice for dealing with writer’s block, from a fellow writer

Okay, so I think we can all agree that writer's block sucks. And if you're someone who writes regularly, there's no way to avoid experiencing it from time to time (I sure know I do). But here are a few things that I usually find helpful when I experience writer’s block <3

Firstly, give yourself permission to take a break. Sometimes, the harder we push ourselves to write, the more elusive inspiration becomes. Step away from your writing for a little while and engage in activities that bring you joy and relaxation. This could be anything from going for a walk, reading a book, or indulging in a hobby. By taking time to recharge, you allow your mind to reset and open up to new ideas. Sometimes it can be an longer break that is needed, sometimes the best way to get back into writing if you have a really bad case of writer’s block is to simply not try.

Another useful technique is to try freewriting. Set a timer for a specific duration, it can be as short as 10-15 minutes (personally, I prefer setting my timer for about half an hour to 45 minutes when I do this), and write continuously without worrying about grammar, punctuation, or structure. Let your thoughts flow freely onto the page. This exercise can help loosen up your creative muscles and break through any mental barriers. If you know that you have a tendency to overthink or be overly self critical when you write, I suggest avoiding a time duration longer than 30 minutes, at least the first times you do this exercise.

If you find yourself stuck on a particular project, consider working on something completely different. Switching gears and exploring a new topic or genre can provide a fresh perspective and alleviate the pressure you may be putting on yourself. Experimenting with different writing styles or formats can also help reignite your passion for storytelling.

Collaboration can be another effective way to overcome writer's block. Engage in writing exercises with fellow writers or seek feedback from trusted peers. Sharing your work-in-progress and receiving constructive criticism can often provide valuable insights and new directions for your writing.

Lastly, it's important to remember that writer's block is a natural part of the creative process. Be patient and kind to yourself. Avoid self-criticism and negative self-talk. Instead, focus on nurturing your creativity through self-care, reading, and exploring new experiences. Trust that inspiration will return in its own time.

And most importantly of all, be kind to yourself. We are usually our own biggest critic. Happy writing! <3

#jane’s writing advice #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #writblr #writeblr #writing advice #writerscommunity #writing #writer things #new writers on tumblr #young writer #young writers #writer’s block #writers block #dark academia #fanfiction #fiction #light academia #poetry #writers and poets #writing prompt #writing practice #writing process #ao3 writer #fanfic #writerscreed #female writers #advice #bookish #booklr

[yanderes-galore]

OW2

Romantic Yan! Mauga One-shot

This is an idea which suddenly came to my mind. Mauga with Fem! Talon member! Darling, who disappeared during one of the missions.

While the she is listed as a Talon's escaped traitor, she is imprisoned by Mauga on an island in Samoa, because Mauga considered her too fragile for such work, even if she can stand up for herself.

He won't let his Teuila get hurt.

I saw this request and immediately had an idea for it so this is the first one I'm doing 😎 Since Mauga came out yesterday I gotta give the Mauga content, yeah? (indulging in my birthday gift).

Not really edited, may have spelling mistakes, I appreciate feedback!

Traitor

Yandere! Mauga Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Restraints, Kissing, Babying implied, Threats, Forced relationship.

"Status on the traitor issue?" The leader of Talon, Doomfist, asks some of his most lethal members in a call.

"Surprisingly, nothing yet." Sombra answers the call of her "boss". "Are we so sure she's a traitor and didn't just... die in combat?"

"Is that not what we thought about Baptiste?" Doomfist brings up, making Sombra look disgruntled for just a moment.

"I guess you're right. A shame, really, she was really good at what she did." Sombra sighs.

"We'll find her and bring her to you." Reaper answers the call from behind Sombra.

"You better, I want answers." Doomfist threats before regaining composure. "Now, where's Mauga?"

"With us, although we're dropping him back off in Samoa for business." Sombra answers. "Then we're taking the jet back to base."

"Understood. Let me know what you find." Doomfist confirms before ending the call.

As Sombra and Reaper discussed what to do next, Mauga had his back turned to them. The smirk on his face was large once the call was over. Oh, they always seem to think he's just a dumb brute.

He's more capable than they think.

He wouldn't tell them what he did. Sure, this is eerily similar to the Baptiste incident, but he'd never admit to it. All the mountain of a man cared about was going back to Samoa now.

They could look all they want...

But Mauga would be sure they never found what they were looking for.

The sound of waves is what greets your ears when you awaken. You feel nervousness pool in your stomach as sit up. You sigh when you still see the same chain around you ankle and wrists, along with the door still locked.

You've been here for awhile. You're aware this is a home of a fellow Talon member and that this is Samoa. You've been here... for months you assume?

Unfortunately you were never alone for long.

You barely want to acknowledge the originally locked door sliding open before Mauga steps inside. You already know it's him. Even before his orange shirt catches your eyes. You instead opt to look away and stay in the hammock.

"They think you're a traitor, y'know." Mauga tells you, locking the door again. "That's good, means they don't know I took you."

"They'll find me eventually." You find yourself answering, the Samoan man looking over to you.

"Do you really think I'd let them take you? They wouldn't last against me." Mauga growls. You hear him walk over to you and tower over you.

"You know when they find us they may just kill us both. I was fine when we just did our damn job." You say bitterly. You stop yourself when Mauga pulls you to a sitting position from the chains on your wrists.

"Teuila, you're weak." Mauga hums. "I took you from the job because of such a flaw. You needed to be partnered with someone much stronger, permanently... like me."

Mauga then pulls you out of the hammock. You feel yourself picked up by his large form and pressed against his chest. You then hear him laugh, no doubt due to the size difference between you.

"Face it, Talon was never for you. You don't have the bloodlust or the strength. Aren't you aware of how easy it is to hurt you?" Mauga explains before laying in the hammock with you. You hear him sigh in a relaxed tone as he cages you to his chest.

"I was a great spy...." You hiss.

"All it would take is one skilled shot and you'd be gone, Teuila." Mauga counters. "Do you know what would happen after?"

"What?" You ask just to humor him, only for him to push your face closer to his.

"I'd kill them all~" Mauga grins. "Talon, Overwatch, doesn't matter. I'd make them all bleed if I lost you. I'd even enjoy every second of it."

Mauga then laughs at the shock on your face. You feel him pet your your head before leaning in to kiss your lips. The taste makes your stomach flip before he pulls away.

"So I guess, with that thought, I wouldn't mind if we were both traitors on the run." Mauga smiles, licking his lips. "As long as I get to keep you and do what I want."

You feel him caress your cheek before settling with you. You notice he undoes his shirt, presumably to tease you. Instead you try not to pay any mind.

"Hear those waves?" Mauga asks, you nod. "Someday I plan to take you outside to them. Maybe at night. You know better than to run, right?"

You can see the predatory glare in Mauga's gaze when he asks you. Hesitantly you nod, still unnerved from the threat he said before. For now, you'll continue to play along with Mauga. Not like you have anywhere else to go.

Without Mauga... Talon will find you.

Perhaps that means Mauga is all you have now... it may be better to have him on your side after all.

#yandere overwatch #yandere mauga #yandere overwatch mauga #yandere mauga malosi #yandere maugaloa malosi

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday!!

Tagged by @theotherbuckley @wikiangela (go check out her new Christmas fic!!!) and @steadfastsaturnsrings please go read all their wips right now!

Today I have a bit of Buck and Eddie's first meeting for the Single Dad's AU!! This bit is a work in progress and will probably be tweaked a bit so would appreciate some feedback (please be nice lol, it's been a long week)

Snippet under the cut (it's a bit long but what's new!)

Buck’s standing outside Carrie’s classroom when he notices the new guy.

It’s not weird, okay, but Buck knows all the parents of kids in both his daughters’ classes and he’s positive he hasn’t seen this guy before. He wouldn’t forget someone so perfectly handsome quite so easily.

The man looks a little apprehensive as if this is the first time he’s done pick up before (and maybe it is, Buck doesn’t know the guy and he’s not about to judge), and Buck instantly remembers what it was like for him when he picked Carrie up from her first day of school. All the moms had flocked him like hungry chickens and grilled him about why he was there, who was his kid, where was his wife, questions that he got all too often as a single dad, but it didn’t make them any easier to answer.

He figures, if this guy is going through half of what Buck went through on his first day of pick up, he’s gonna need a friend.

Buck takes a breath before making his way over to where the guy is standing. He’s hot, that much is blatantly obvious. He’s not overly muscular but the muscles he does have are beautifully toned as though carved painstakingly out of marble. He’s got a light dusting of stubble on his jaw and his hair is fluffy and is styled into what Buck reckons the guy hopes looks like a casual quiff. His hair and eyes are both dark, like melted chocolate, which is unfortunate because that is exactly Buck’s type. In summary: he’s a fucking god.

Buck can definitely be normal about this.

He clears his throat nervously before taking another step closer.

“First time at pick up?”

The guy’s head flicks up so fast Buck swears he can hear it click. “What was that?”

“Is this your first time at pick up? I just – I haven’t seen you here before, not that I’m keeping track but I know most of the parents here, so I was just curious when I saw you and –“ Buck swallows. He’s rambling, like an idiot, and the guy is looking at him with an expression that looks to be a mixture of confusion and amusement, as if he can’t quite figure out if Buck’s a threat or just some dumbass that won’t shut up.

“Sorry, I swear I’m not weird, I’m just –“ Buck holds out his hand. “I’m Buck. Well, Evan, but everyone calls me Buck.”

A wide grin spreads across the guy’s face and Buck heaves a sigh of relief as he takes Buck’s hand, shaking it firmly. His hands are warm and calloused, a sure sign of a man who’s good with his hands. Buck tries very very hard not to think how good he might be with his hands.

“Eddie,” the guy replies, his teeth flashing as he smiles, “Eddie Diaz. Yeah, first time at pick up. Yesterday was actually my kid’s first day here but my Abuela got him.”

Buck leans against a pillar and him and Eddie quickly strike up a conversation. It’s clear the poor guy’s frazzled as hell, Buck learns quickly about how Eddie’s new to town (to be fair, Eddie doesn’t provide all this unprompted, Buck’s asking him a load of questions and Eddie indulges him with answers), how he’s been struggling to find somewhere for his son, Christopher, and how he’s trying to navigate life as a single dad. Buck can certainly sympathise.

“Yeah, I get you, when Carrie and Lily’s Mom died, I had no idea what I was going to do, but we worked it out. They’re such great kids -”

A flash of recognition passes over Eddie’s face. “Wait, you’re Carrie’s dad?”

Buck pauses, mid-sentence. “Uhhh, yeah?”

Before he has a second to breathe, Buck’s being pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and it knock the air out of him. He makes a surprised “mmfff” into Eddie’s shoulder and he pats his back, a little bemused, until Eddie releases him.

“Sorry,” he says gruffly and Buck swears he sees the slightest hint of a tear behind Eddie’s eyelids. “It’s just – Christopher told me how she stood up for him in class yesterday and he was so happy, he’s never had a friend like that before. You’ve done an amazing job with her, man.”

Buck can’t help but swell a little from the praise. “Yeah, she’s a great kid, I’m so lucky she’s mine you know. And she told me all about Christopher yesterday, she’s so excited to have him in her class. Apparently, he’s her new best friend.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, the noise warming Buck’s chest and spreading through his fingers. “Yeah, well, that’s seven year olds for you.”

(No pressure) tagging @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @malewifediaz @thewolvesof1998 @jesuisici33 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @housewifebuck @disasterbuckdiaz @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @fruitandbubbles @watchyourbuck @fionaswhvre @evanbegins @buckbuckgoose @bucksbackwardcap @aspecbuddie

#single dads au #single dad buck #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #911 abc #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #eddie x buck #911

[alespov]

- I’ve seen this film before

Trigger Warnings : mentions of the raccon city incident, reader gets a bit upset.

Author Note : hii loves, I just needed a small break. All of the asks that I received, has been answered and will be posted soon. Thank you for all of the love <3 { repost from my old blog} feedback is highly appreciated <33

Iced vanilla coffee with pumpkin cold foam," the barista announced. Eagerly, you slid your bookmark back into the pages of your book, your anticipation growing with each step toward the counter. Autumn's arrival meant it was finally time to indulge in your cherished seasonal beverage. As you reached out to claim your coffee, an unexpected hand swiftly grasped it before you could blink.

"Oh sorry, did I get the wrong order?" As you turned, you became captivated by a man whose striking blue eyes seemed to pierce deep into your soul. You found yourself irresistibly drawn to his gaze, utterly entranced by the intensity and allure of his eyes.

"Hey.... you okay?" he said while snapping his fingers. You snapped out of your trance and were a bit embarrassed.

"Uh, I'm terribly sorry. I thought this was my order, but I definitely could be mistaken," you explained clearly embarrassed, the flushed cheeks gave it away.

Just then, the barista called out another coffee order identical to yours. The man laughed, "Oh this one must be mine."

The two of you shared another look and went back to sit at your respective tables. You've had a busy day and it was only one in the afternoon. So sitting in the peaceful cafe was just what you needed.

As the hours slipped by, you became wholly absorbed in crafting the second draft of your second novel. The success of your debut work left an indelible mark on your heart, setting high expectations for this sequel. Vividly recounting your harrowing experiences in Raccoon City, the book pays special tribute to the valiant blonde rookie cop who risked everything to rescue you and your friends. Though time has drifted you all apart, the fast-approaching anniversary of those fateful events evokes bittersweet memories that continue to shape and inspire your writing.

You were absorbed in editing your draft you didn't see someone sitting across from you. Pulling out your earbuds and you brushed your hair back. You noted it was the man from earlier, "Oh sorry I didn't see you there."

As you smiled at him, charmed by his shyness, you started chatting about how your respective days went. Intrigued, he questioned you about the book you were writing, and as you explained your ideas, you couldn't help but mention its prequel, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

“"So, you were part of the Raccoon City incident?" he inquired with a hint of curiosity, his fingers absentmindedly playing with his watch. Caught off guard by this unexpected question, especially since it was a topic rarely discussed, you opted for honesty. The incident was not your favorite conversation piece, so you preferred to write under a pseudonym. Amusingly enough, none of your readers had any clue about your true identity or appearance.

“Uhh yea I was, my friends and I was going to a party. We were all riding together, and the police had shut the roads down. Then… the monsters came.” You trialed off, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes. The man looked sympathetic and grabbed you hand. “Hey it’s okay… I promise it’s gets easier. You just have to have the right person.” He cradled your hand in his own, and gave you a gentle squeeze.

“If not for Officer Kennedy, I wouldn't be standing here today. The first book is an immense homage to him," you said with a smile, attempting to conceal the depth of your emotions. He was just a stranger who nearly picked up your coffee by mistake, and you didn't want to impose the weight of your past on him.

“If it’s any help, I was also there. It was the first day of the job for me.” He began and the pieces hadn’t clicked yet.

"I remember that day vividly. It was my first day on the job, and little did I know, it would also be a day I would never forget. I rushed into the gas station, running late after a terrible breakup with my girlfriend the night before. As I raced to my car, my heart pounding with adrenaline, I knew that this day would be different. And little did I know, it would be the start of a wild and crazy journey that would change my life forever." He moved his blonde hair out of his face.

“Oh I’m so sor-“ he cut you off, “I’m fine, I’ve learned to heal.”

You nodded and the barista reminded everyone it was closing time, on some days they closed at 2:30 in the afternoon. You gathered your things, and the man waited for you.

“Allow me to walk you out?” He held out his arm for you to take. You giggled a bit embarrassed and accepted his arm.

He walked you to your car and helped you set your stuff in the back. You had realized after talking to him for so long, that you didn’t even know his name. He was getting ready to leave but you stopped him.

“You know I never got your name.” You pointed out to him. He chucked and said. “How rude of me, you can call me Officer Kennedy.” The color must have drained from your face.

“It’s okay. It’s okay I’m sorry I should have said something earlier.” You felt like fainting, he grabbed a hold of your wait and gently helped you sit down.

“Oh.. my I didn’t even realize.” He shook his head. Brushing you off. “Honestly it’s okay… I’m glad your safe after all these years. To be honest I kinda tracked you down here.”

You looked at him confused. “ my friend Claire was reading the book, and she sent it to me. I just had to see you. I don’t really care for pumpkin ice coffee. I just overheard that you ordered it.” He laughed nervously.

You laughed at him and he smirked “so.. do you think I could get an autograph.”

#┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ allyse talks ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #id!leon kennedy #leon x you #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x gn #leon x reader #re4 leon #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you

[dinolich]

FAQ

One click spot for frequently asked questions, pertaining to HELLAWEEN and art in general. This will be linked in my bio and updated over time.

HELLAWEEN -What was the inspiration behind HELLAWEEN/How did it come to be?

In 2014 I had just graduated college and moved across the country for a storyboard internship at a film studio. I had a huge quarter life crisis when the environment clashed with me in every way, which left me questioning if I had made a massive career choice mistake. To help take the edge off I decided I needed to come up with some characters that were as self indulgent as possible. So I asked myself "What if there was Halloween level of a Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater game?" and "What if My Chemical Romance wrote the soundtrack to Scooby Doo?" and thus, the main cast was born. Originally I didn't have any plans with them, I was just having fun drawing them for inktober and developing their personalities. Once the internship ended and I was able to set my career back in motion with some significantly better studio atmosphere fits for me in California, I started getting more serious about developing a linear story. I spent some time pitching different versions to tv studios and shorts programs. Got some great feedback but no real bites. Fortunately, I had a post blow up that caught the attention of my publisher who reached out to see if I was interested in doing a book instead and I LEAPED at the opportunity! HELLAWEEN is very much inspired by my own teenage years, growing up in the Bay Area, being surrounded by alt and skate cultures in the 2000's. As well as exploring identity, and growing up queer but the words for "how" didn't really exist yet. Plus a deep love for spooky cartoons and stylish anime, of course.

-What kind of music pairs the story/characters?

Great news I have playlists for everyone

Gwen- Ashnikko and My Chemical Romance Miles- 100 gecs and Oingo Boingo Sloane- PUP and The Cure Hiro- Gorillaz and Maximum the Hormone Bea- AFI and The Used -Do you have any voice claims for the cast?

I’d mostly want them to be played by actual teenagers. But I have a couple in mind that I think could work—

Gwen I could see Valeria Rodriguez (Lagoona and Spectra on the current MH series) Miles maybe someone like Zeno Robinson (Hunter Owlhouse) Sloane I have no idea, but definitely a VO who’s non binary

With Hiro and Bea it’s impossible to not hear Dante Basco and Grey Griffin in my head.

-What are the character's pronouns/orientations? Gwen- She/Her Miles- He/Him Sloane- They/Them Hiro- He/him Bea- She/Her In general I don't want to define their sexual orientations. I'm an aroace author and it's not something I'm interested in writing about. Ideally, I'd like to give the audience room to project themselves onto the characters. Don't get me wrong this book is QUEER and themes of identity are important, just don't expect any kissing in the canon story. Headcanons on the other hand, go nuts!!! Can I get HELLAWEEN in ____ country/language?

Getting it published outside of the US is not out of the question, but at the moment I don't have any concrete info on that. I've heard folks have had good luck getting the book through their country's Amazon site or Bookshop.org Can I draw fanart/make my own playlists/write fanfiction/make a character?

oh my GOD yes ART Who are your artistic inspirations?

Jhonen Vasquez and Aaron Alexovich, FLCL, Jamie Hewlett, The Muppets, Mike Mignola, Mob Psycho 100, Rem's Devil's Candy, 2000's age Neopets, Pokemon, plus online artists I’ve looked up to for years or grew up drawing with. What programs do you use?

Comics- Clipstudio Paint Sketching- Procreate Storyboarding- Storyboard Pro What ink markers do you use in your sketchbook?

Copic markers, pentel pocket brush, pilot brush pens, micron fine liners Check out my episode of Creative Block!

#ask dinolich #faq

[bbyquokka]

desperate love

pairing: seo changbin x gender neutral reader

genre: mutual pining, friends to lovers, non idol au, smut – MDNI

synopsis: months of pining for one another, you both indulge in each other after being left alone for the night 

warnings: smut, chan is readers brother, masturbation, dry humping, sexual thoughts, cum in underwear.

words: 2.5k ~ (2566)

☆ m.list — ☆ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it's wrong.

you shouldn't be doing this. he shouldn't be doing this but neither of you can help it. it feels good, too good for you both to just stop.

you're his best friend's sibling. it's goes against all the rules to be doing something like this. but he's loved you from day one and when an opportunity like now presented itself in front of his eyes, he snatched it with greedy hands.

chan introduced you to his two best friends, changbin and jisung, a few months ago. changbin knew chan had a sibling but he wasn't expecting it to be you. he first met you several months ago, and by ‘met’, you served him at the local music shop you work at.

he shops there on the regular, it's where he gets all his equipment from. one day, he was struggling on what to pick and you helped him. as soon as his eyes rested upon you, he fell in love instantly. his heart beating against his chest, his works lodged in his throat. he felt his brain melting and the ability to be a human, failing.

he started visiting the store on the regular. he didn't need anything, he just wanted to see you. he thought falling in love was bullshit. no one could possibly fall in love with someone when they don't know the person on a personal level; yet here he is, smitten for you in an instant.

same as changbin, you too, also didn't believe in love at first sight. you've been watching him from afar, picking up on his small and cute habits. how his brows would knit together when thinking. how he'd chew his lips whilst contemplating. 

despite not knowing anything about him, you picked up on his hobbies. you knew he either liked to create or work with music considering he shops at the store, you also know that he likes to exercise. some days, he would come into the store dressed in nothing but shorts and a plain tee. you thought about him on the daily, hoping that he would come to the store on your shifts and when he didn't show, you couldn't help but feel disappointed.

you spoke to chan about it, told him how you think you've fallen for a regular. when you described him to chan, he laughed and said it sounded very much like his friend, changbin. you refused to believe him until he introduced you to changbin and jisung.

changbin was shocked to his core. he knew chan had a sibling; he talks about you all the time! but he didn't expect it to be the person he has fallen for and thinks of on the daily. you to, also shocked because chan was right and you hate that, but you decided to play cool. not be over the top and be too full on, after all, it is just one sided feelings to you.

it slowly became a regular thing to see changbin and jisung around the apartment. chan knows about your feelings towards his best friend but he had no idea that changbin feels the same way, until changbin started to show telltale signs.

a simple touch from you would be enough to make changbin flustered and beet red. he acted so shy and gentleman-like around you, making sure you were well cared for and your needs were being met. both your feelings for one another slowly, but surely, started to escalate and that's when you both realized it was becoming a problem.

a simple touch. a brush of the shoulder. looking into each other's eyes accidently; it's all enough for you both to feel tingles of pleasure. a desperate ache between your legs forming. mind numb and consumed with changbin and vice versa.

on days where changbin would hang out with chan, which at this point, he was using chan as an excuse to see you, he would go home, horny and hard.

you're so innocent, so sweet to him. the thought of wanting to corrupt you, consuming and indulge in your body and warmth is too much for changbin. his eyes fluttering shut, hand around his hard cock as he pumps himself to the dirty thoughts of you.

he'd whine and whimper your name, silently praising you. flashes of your pretty face and perfect body would spring into his mind which only fueled him. sometimes, masturbating once wasn't enough and he soon found himself doing it twice, sometimes three times a day.

bedroom. taking a shower. at the gym. once he felt brave and did it in your bathroom. his strong urges to just steal a piece of your underwear and take it home to use, overwhelming him. but he's a rational man, he could never do that to his friend's sibling.

you too, also couldn't help the strong urges. every time you saw changbin sitting back on the sofa, his legs spread, you felt the urge to straddle him. to bounce on his cock. to hear his pretty moans and watch his face scrunch up with pleasure. you often wondered what type of moaner he would be. is he loud? quiet? does he whimper and groan or does he sound soft and gentle.

one day, changbin left behind his hoodie. you stole it and rushed to your bedroom before hiding under the sheets. you nuzzled his hoodie, his musk, manly scent making you feel dizzy and foggy with lust. you touched yourself, masturbated to changbin whilst inhaling his scent from his hoodie. 

you couldn't help it; neither of you can. seeing each other is just too much for your minds to comprehend. the sexual tension between you both is thick with chan and jisung knowing, but choosing not to say anything.

aside from the sexual tension, you and changbin also became very good friends. with the common interest of music, it was easier for you both to talk to one another. you exchanged numbers, went out for coffee dates and shopping trips together.

changbin took you to his favorite restaurant, paying for the expensive meal. you promised to make it up to him, his mind instantly turning to dirty thoughts to which he shook away and soothed you that's it's ok. you started to spend more and more time with each other, the love that you both feel for each other, blooming and exploding in the form of erratic butterflies that lay dormant in the stomach.

you both want each other. both need each other, so how did you end up in the situation you're currently in?

chan has a date with someone he's been seeing on the regular. as soon as he left, you phoned changbin, explaining that you're bored and wanted him to come over; to which he did. you watched some movies, ate some food before winding down for the night.

you got a text from chan saying he won't be home. the date went well for him then.

“seems like it's just us two for the night.” you state, putting your phone down.

“what do you mean?” changbin asks, gently stroking your legs that's currently draped over his lap.

“chan won't be home, so it's just us..” you trail off. “that is, if you want to sleep over..” 

“huh? oh! oh yeah, yes! i mean, if that's ok.” you giggle, sitting up and shuffling closer to changbin. the tips of his ears turn red, faces inches apart.

he could kiss you right now. the tension between you both thick, making it hard to breathe. your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue licking your own. changbin clenches his jaw as he fights every fiber of his being and thoughts. 

“would you like that, bin?” you ask sweetly, fluttering your lashes. you boldly place your hand on his thick thigh, feeling it tense under your fingertips. he swallows thickly, words lodged in his throat.

he's fighting a battle that he knows he will lose. he's weak to you. he wants you so badly and you want him. the way your heart beats against your chest, nerves swimming in your stomach.

“i would.” he whispers. he leans in close, lips threatening to touch yours. “but we can't..”

“why..” you whisper, bottom lip grazing his own.

“you're my best friends sibling..” 

“but bin. i want you. i've wanted you for so many months. call me weak but i just, please..”

he can't believe what he is hearing. you? the person he has thought of day in, day out, also want him.

“what do you mean, yn?” he asks carefully. he wants to make sure that it is what you're implying, that's it's not just for sexual pleasure.

“bin.. i–” you flush a deep red, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. it's now or never. you take a deep breath and close your eyes, swallowing your pride and the feeling that it could all go very wrong.

“i love you bin. i have done since i first saw you. the day you walked into the store was the day my heart leaped from my chest and never came back. i think about you all the time. wonder what it would be like to be yours. i want to be involved with you, bin. romantically and sexually..”

“seriously?” changbin cannot believe his luck. you also feel the same way as he does. months and months of pining for you, wondering and feeling anxious about confessing to you has all led to this moment.

“fuck yn..” changbin groans, kicking his head back as he pushes back his curls. you bite your lip as you look down at your lap. your thoughts of whether it was the right thing to do, silenced by changbin grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap.

your eyes widen as you straddle him, hands placed on his shoulders as he strokes the skin of your hips.

“binnie?” you whisper, swallowing when you see nothing but love and lust glazing over his eyes.

“how can you say something like that so casually. it's taken me months and months to pluck up the courage to tell you how i feel and you've done it so effortlessly.”

“well, i am nervous bin. it's not easy..” you giggle, wiping your clammy hands on your t-shirt. “wait, does that mean..?”

“mhm.” he hums, nodding slowly. “i've wanted you for as long as i can remember yn. my feelings and thoughts were innocent, i swear! but the more time we spend with each other, those innocent thoughts became dirty..” 

you flush red, shifting on his lap to which changbin lets out a soft groan from the friction. you bite your lip gently, deciding to test the waters. 

holding onto his shoulders firmly, you sit flush on his crotch. he's in sweatpants, his typical comfy wear meaning you can feel him. you can feel everything; from his size to his thickness. you slowly and cautiously rock on his crotch, providing friction for you both.

you watch changbin fight a battle inside his head. his head telling him to stop, you're his best friend's sibling and it's so wrong. but he wants you, he wants you so badly-so he will have you.

“y-yn..” changbin softly pants, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips. you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, your soft pants fanning against the skin causing goosebumps to rise on the surface

“binnie..”

“we shouldn't..” he whispers, hips bucking up and matching your tempo. his actions and the sweet sounds that emits deep within his chest contradict his words.

“why?” you ask out of politeness. you know changbin wants it just as much as you. he shows no signs of slowing down or stopping. his length slowly turning hard, poking and rubbing you.

“because chan.” you lift your head up to look at the flustered man. his cheeks holding a nice, pink tone to them, lips parted and glistening from his saliva. brows furrowed together as nothing but lust is evident in his eyes.

“fuck him.” you mumble, brushing your lips against his gently. “just, indulge in me bin and i'll indulge in you. we want each other so give in.”

his lips press against yours in a sweet but messy kiss. tongue and teeth collide and clash together. desperation evident in the way his hands roam your skin. throaty groans and moans escape the two of you. the built up hunger for one another finally being set free as you grind faster and harder on his clothed length.

his hands squeeze and caress your skin, fingers brushing and teasing your nipples. he holds you close, holding you so tight like his life depended on it. pleasure surges through changbin, tingling in the tips of his fingers as he indulges in your warmth. he swallows each and every gorgeous moan that escapes your lips, his mind going foggy with lust.

“fuck fuck fuck..” he pants, lips trailing down your neck to suck on the skin. you whimper softly, fingertips digging into his broad shoulders. his underwear feeling sticky as the material soaks up his pre cum that's free flowing from his slit. 

“fuck bin. good.. feels good..” you moan softly. his teeth gently sink into the skin of your neck, canines scraping the skin softly as you hold onto his biceps for stability.

you feel like you're floating, your body hot and sweaty. your hips moving so fast that it's uncoordinated and sloppy. you give a few bounce as if you were to ride him before going back to rocking back and forth; this time, adding more pressure.

you can feel his size and thickness rub against you. it makes you shiver, only heightening your fantasies of sexually pleasing changbin.

“i can't..” he whispers. he kicks his head back, tilting it to the side as he lets out soft whimpers. his chests heaves up and down, beads of sweat slowly roll down his temples. the burning knot he feels in the pit of his stomach, threatening to snap with each rub, bounce and groan from you.

his cock twitches in his underwear. he bawls his hands up into fists, desperately trying to hold on. it burns but he doesn't want to cum, not yet anyways. he wants to be inside you in order to do that but with the way your hips are moving so deliciously along his length, you're making it hard for him.

and then, you whisper those three words he has longed to hear.

“i love you.”

his stomach dips, muscles contract as he grips onto your hips tightly. your eyes widen at the sudden movement but you soon smirk once you see changbin's head hanging low, broken sobs and moans escape his lips as his body shakes. his sticky mess coating his underwear, making him feel gross and ashamed. it pools in his underwear, seeping and creating a wet patch that you can feel from his sweatpants.

“sorry. so much, so much cum. it's never been this much before.. fuck fuck..” he pants as he's in a world of his own. his body trembles with each release, however, his cock remains hard.

“everything I've ever wanted and more. but i want more.. i want so much more. i want you. i want to feel you. fuck; i need you.” he groans.

“take me, binnie. we have all night to indulge in one another.”

note: part of starry's treasure trove! i know its been a while since i uploaded something, it might be like that for a few months. im still writing (kinda) but uni is taking up majority of my time. i will upload when i can (when i have something completed, lmao) ty for being patient with me! 🖤🥺 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @oshimee ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @cixrosie ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #skz smut #stray kids smut #seo changbin #seo changbin smut #seo changbin x you #seo changbin x reader #changbin #changbin smut #changbin x you #changbin x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

[worriedvision]

if it's okay, may i request Tighnari with the "wrong time right place" prompt?

maybe something like Tighnari beibg really stressed in Gandharva Ville for weeks on end (+ Collei's Eleazar before the Archon Quest) and not being able to reciprocate our feelings?

abd when he finally gets to us, we already have someone else taking care of us

...

I've decided to do this in a different way with how the reader moved on, kind of like Tighnari getting a taste of his own medicine. Gender neutral reader, angst.

--

Since you first saw him, you were enamoured with him. You knew he was the right guy for you, he ticked all your boxes. He was in the forest, finishing up a withering zone, and you happened to be finishing a report. You land up working with him on this report, discovering he had much to gain from your note taking and getting the Akedemiya to get on board with his ideas. You had a few meals together when working on it, and you couldn't stop your heart beating hard.

You try to make moves where appropriate, hoping to secure a relationship with him, but he doesn't bite.

"_, knock it off." Tighnari tuts one night, you asking him out for the tenth time. "Can't you take a hint? I'm not interested."

"Oh... Sorry if I made you uncomfortable..." You trail off, Tighnari turning to face you.

"You know I have lots of things on my plate due to work. I do not have the time to indulge in this." Tighnari explains. "Under different circumstances, there might have been a possibility of me accepting your confession."

"...I think I can finish this report myself." You coldly let out. "Don't worry, I won't ruin this paper because of my feelings being hurt." You reassure him, walking away.

--

When Alhaitham became the Acting Grand Sage, he decided to make you his scribe. After reading your report on the spawning areas of withering zones, as well as this being backed up by Master Tighnari in an interview, he offered you the chance to be an acting scribe until he filled all the necessary roles. Alhaitham becomes a tutor of yours, agreeing to proofread your reports and giving you useful feedback before sending you on your way to finish the report before submitting it.

After the rejection from Tighnari, you had to distract yourself with work. You fully focus on your writing, opting to remain factual and logical. You wouldn't make the same mistake as the last time like you did with Tighnari where you caught feelings that, in hindsight, he was unable to act on.

You receive requests to interview Tighnari again, and you only needed to look at the letter once to see it was sent from Tighnari himself. Shaking your head, you add these letters to a growing pile.

--

"_, it's been a while." Tighnari calls out, Cyno sitting with him. "Come, we have lots to catch up on."

You decide to walk over, not interested in wasting too much time here when you had several meetings you were due to sit in on.

"We finally got the withering zones cleared, and Collei is taking a turn for the better." Tighnari nods, making eye contact with you. "I have more time on my hands now, and I want to build up the growing relationship we had."

How rich. He told you himself that he was far too busy with work, and now its the opposite way.

"I have work to do." You simply state, leaving Tighnari and Cyno sitting there as you walk towards your first meeting area.

--

"That did not go well." Tighnari groans out, ears drooping.

"Alhaitham has that effect in people. I wouldn't take it personally." Cyno explains.

"No, they grew distant after I told them I was too busy with the withering zones." Tighnari pouts, staring at the door where you left as if you would come back in.

Cyno has to stop himself from making a terrible joke about how working on withering zones withered the relationship, seeing for Tighnari was taking you walking out.

"...I think we should skip TCG today...as much as I enjoy the game, I would rather not beat a friend who isn't mentally there." Cyno states, raising a hand to begin ordering food.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #angst #tighnari #tighnari x gender neutral reader #tighnari x reader #cyno #alhaitham

[guppyscolita]

Genuinely sucks so much with the negativity going around the MK fandom and I am so sorry that it has made you uncomfortable. I love your ideas but I totally understand needing to back off. Take care of yourself first! I admire your art a lot and your mk art has inspired me to draw mk fanart after I was nervous to do so. I hope things start getting better and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/week/month <3 Give Plushvik a little hug for me

Yes I think you said a key word, which is "negativity" I don't think people should stop giving their opinions, it's just that if your only feedback to fan content is "I don't like this" "this should be burnt" or "I hate when people do this instead of this" to a totally harmless content Even if you think it doesn't affect, it does, on a bad way. Specially if comments come from other creators As I said, I might return to share ship content with Havik eventually. key word "share" cuz I might or might be not drawing little stuffs in private anyways I'm just letting things get a bit of air, I'm also focusing on other type of scenarios, ships are fun but as someone that doesn't really enjoy romance that much it kinda gets short for me(? jdfvhb so if you're curious about other scenarios, I'm happy to share and talk about that! I'm so happy to hear that my content has inspired you to create stuffs yourself <3 never be afraid and never stop being self indulgent lol and take this from someone that has built everything by being super self indulgent with everything I've done About plushvik, Imma give him a big squeeze

#questions