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thalwri · 10 days ago

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PERFECT FIT!

STARRING: xavier x reader

synopsis: it's rare for xavier to piss you off– so when he figures out that he's gotten you in a bad mood, he'll do exactly what he knows makes you feel better. and he'd do it anywhere and anytime just to make you happy.

warnings: porn with little plot, public sex, fucking in a fitting room, almost getting caught, mirror sex, oral (m! receiving), multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, squirting.

wc: 3,8k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You're angry. You are so angry at Xavier.

And you have every reason to be. One of his naps fell turned into a deep comatose state, making you miss the movie you had promised each other you'd watch at the cinema.

Now that you've lost that opportunity and are now at risk of spoilers from every single one of your friends, Xavier rushed to drag you to the nearest store to buy you as many cute clothes as possible.

But that isn't enough for you, is it?

Xavier knows that well about you. Which is why he knows the best solution for this very problem is to have his cock nice and deep inside you until you cream around him.

What's a better place to do that than the fitting room?

"You look really good in this," His voice sends shivers down your spine like hot wire to the touch. His hands have already started massaging your curves, tongue feeling the strap of your lacy bra. His teeth grip the strap, slowly raising it before releasing it to hit your shoulder with a soft snap!

"You look good in anything really." Your eyes flutter shut from his sheer praise, melting into his touch and devotion.

He decided to take you to a lingerie store just to have you try on things he believes you'd look good in. And fuck, was he correct.

You're currently in a light blue lace set embroidered with stars and silk ribbons, designed to be taken apart bit by bit– or not at all. You have to admit Xavier has a good eye. The way it hugs your curves and accentuates your beauty is riveting– arousing even.

You should be angry with him. Stubbornly unhappy, just enough to give him the silent treatment for the entire day while he grovels his way to get you to forgive him.

Buying pretty clothes, reserving dinner at your favourite restaurant, winning limited edition plushies for you, and all the other adorable acts he performed for the sake of your forgiveness isn't going to work.

"You can't be mad at me forever." His lips finally find your neck and press gentle, almost feathery, kisses on your skin while his eyes remained on yours through your reflection in the mirror.

"I think I can." Your attempt to sound angry just comes out as a weakened huff. Xavier smiles into your neck, widening his lips to suckle light bruises into your flesh.

"Really?" The motion of his tongue pressing down on your neck while he sucks your skin heats up your core. Any more of that and that pretty lingerie will be soaked.

"Really."

That is his full intention. He's going to buy it anyway whether it's soaked, ripped apart, or covered in cum.

His cock is throbbing in his pants, practically straining against the fabric. He knows you can feel it too, just from how close you are to each other. The curve of your ass is deliciously welded with his hips and the way his length is practically between each cheek makes him flush red.

"You know we never argue." Xavier mutters. He presses his clothed length into you, emphasising his desire for you. "You also know you don't like staying angry for long."

Oh, your boyfriend truly has a way with his words.

You find yourself leaning further into his touch, your body practically melting to putty from his gentle ministrations. His hand wanders lower and lower from your shoulders and down, cupping your mounds in his hands to massage and caress.

Eyes closed and lips parted, Xavier relishes in how his touch can simply melt you— and him by extension. You both know the risk considering you’re in a very very public space. A fitting room, mind you.

In one of those grand stores with exuberantly expensive clothes and an aesthetic that probably costs more in terms of design than the clothing itself. The fitting room was no less extravagant. Mirrors reaching the ceiling with warm lights stored in the glass to brighten your best areas. The little seat was velvet and comfortable enough to sleep on. And your boyfriend was doing all this just so you wouldn’t be mad at him. It was working.

Anyone could walk by and anyone could hear the noises that will definitely slip straight through the curtains of the fitting room. But you could care less.

He had already calmed you down with his kisses and soothed your fleeting pettiness. All you need is him. And you know he needs you too.

"I should show you how mad I am, don't you think?" You huff, maintaining your little act. Your hand rubs his bulge, instantly getting wet from just how hard he is for you.

"Probably should." Xavier agrees, almost breathless from your touch. He could be drooling too. His eyes intensely watch you turn to face him, undoing the knot of his drawstrings to pull his sweatpants down until they're off.

His boxers follow the same path until they end up on the hooks with. the rest of your clothes. His length is hard and dripping with precum already, bouncing in the air for you to admire.

"Fuck this act." You muttered, almost entranced by how his cock feels so heavy and hot in your hand. "I want you."

"I'm right here for you to have me."

You slowly sink to your knees, not wasting time to kiss your way up his length until your lips sucked in his tip– slowly and deeply hollowing your cheeks for him to feel just how tight you're going to suck and torture him.

"O-Oh, baby." Xavier exhales, leaning back to watch you suck him in deep.

Your legs slowly spread open in a squat to show your reflection of your dripping hole exposed through the open crotch of your panties. Of course Xavier chose this pair. He knows you a bit too well for his own good. Set pieces like these are perfect for when you feel needy and don't want to ruin another pair of panties.

You bob your head as you guide his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, stroking whatever your throat hasn't warmed up to take yet. Every so often you glance up to see your boyfriend's face more flushed every time, lips parted and slick from how many times he's licked them and his eyes glazed over with desire.

It's always so quick for things to get extra wet and sloppy when you're slurping his cock. The deeper you go, the wetter things get, and you're more than happy to feel it drip down and you slowly bring yourself to deepthroat him.

The image is so deliciously lewd, the way you can see the mix of precum and your own spit thicken, slowly dribbling down your chin to your cleavage with excess bits dripping on the floor. The position's almost pornographic, knees spread wide enough for your fingers to drill your weeping hole, collarbones and sweet tits shining from all that slick falling onto your skin. The sight of it alone gets you rudely wetter and wetter. Fuck, it's even dripping from your hands as your fingers curve in your pussy knuckle deep.

You slither and tease the underside of his throbbing cock with your drooling tongue. You stroke and stroke what your mouth doesn't take, massaging his shaft as your hand slowly carries your spit-precum slick from your lips to the soft white tufts of hair at his base until it's drenched and sticky with your slick.

Your gurgles echo around the small room in harmony with Xavier's hushed moans muffled into the sleeve of his hoodie. If anything, you can only blame him for making you feel so lewd like this.

"Look at you," He grips your hair as his hips begin to grind into your mouth. "Fuck, taking my cock so well. Your sweet pussy's making such a mess too– she must want to be fucked good."

You can only hum in response, voice gargling as your tongue swipes and slurps on his length. You tease your clit using your slick from your exposed cunt to make everything deliciously sensitive and wet.

You pull your head back just enough to suckle on his throbbing cockhead, sliding your tongue up and down, up and down on his slit until he shivers. His grip on your hair tightens in desperation to hide his sweet, heavenly moans.

"Keep doing that and– fuck– I'll–"

You don't even get to hear what he says when his hand change grip and hold you on either side of your head. His warm palms cover your ears completely to catch you off guard before he slides in nice and fucking deeep into your mouth until your nose tickles his trimmed hairs.

The shock alone sends tingles down your spine intense enough to make your cunt leak even more.

"Don't be surprised, starlight." Xavier grins in a hushed tone, keeping your head secure in place to feel you squeezing around him. His grip softens just to make sure you can breathe through your nose. "You love when I do this."

And you fucking loved it. It was arousing. Riveting. Just giving your boyfriend the best head known to man would make you cum alone. And the same applied to him– that freaky munch.

Xavier sinks his cock into your throat over and over, making sure his leaky tip pokes your dangling uvula every damn time. You do your best not to gag on his length, slobbering on him and loosening your jaw to take him. The slick noises make it all the more exhilarating, especially when hearing the occasional steps from just outside the fitting room.

Who knows what they could be hearing? You practically gagging on his cock? His poorly silenced moans and groans? Your fingers tending to your pussy and the loud shlick noises accompanying the gurgles from your mouth? Probably all of it. And that makes it even better.

The stimulation and the thrill becomes almost too much for you, bringing your legs to a tremble signifying your rapidly impending climax. Looks like Xavier noticed too when he gently guides your head away from his cock, making you whine in need.

You watch Xavier lean against the wall, hair damp from sweat and face completely flushed pink. Your legs are burning from the position you're in but that doesn't stop you from drilling your fingers into your cunt while your other hand fondles your breasts through the lace.

The sight of you so desperately touching yourself is so deliciously lewd it makes his cock visibly twitch. An amalgam of precum and spit drips from his tip right onto your cleavage. It makes you look both beautiful and sultry– such an erotic duality.

"Fuck, starlight." He reaches to lift you into his arms, to give your pure legs a break. "Let me take care 'f you."

He brings you into his lewd embrace, tasting his precum as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. It's passionate, it's starved, it devours you both as you consume each other with the desire for more. Your lips smack as they collide, loudly bouncing off the mirrored walls for eavesdroppers to hear.

Xavier's hand curves around your nape, his thumb tracing over the bump of your Adam's apple while the other fondles the soft flesh of your ass before giving it a soft smack!

You gasp into his lips, granting him further access for his tongue to explore your mouth, tasting every bit of you and not giving a flying fuck if he'd end up licking your teeth– which he did.

Between every kiss, you'd both suck in as much air as possible all while whispering "Fuck," or "Shit, darling," or other profane yet endearingly debauched words of adoration. Your hands wandered lower and lower until they found his still hard cock, and his reached your pussy. You didn't spare a second thought to immediately touch and tease, stroke and finger just to satiate your desire for each other.

"Want you in me," You huffed into his mouth, sinking your teeth into his upper lip as his fingers curled deep inside you. "Put it in, Xav."

"But I'm already inside." He pouted in that stupidly cute and deceiving tone.

"Don't piss me off." You hiss, squeezing his shaft tight in your grip enough for him to moan loud enough for someone to hear. His fingers only go harder and faster, clearly intending to get you to cum before he does.

"Yeah?" His lips found your neck, pressing open mouth kisses onto your skin to mark you all over again and slurp the remaining slick from you. "Want me to fuck you good? While all these people could hear us?"

He grinds his hips up to your core, ensuring his cockhead bumps your swollen clit every time. The delicious mind-numbing sensation of him sucking on your neck along with your slow grinds throw your critical thinking out the window. And his fingers? Fuck, that's another story.

The thought of how naughty this was sent you into a sharp, hot climax. Your eyes are greeted with orgasmic stars as they roll back deep into your skull. Electric currents rush up your spine from your core bringing your legs to a shake. It takes so much effort for you to hold back as much of your noises as possible, but part of you doesn't want to.

Part of you wants the world to know that you're losing yourself on your boyfriend's fingers. You both love this shit, you freaks. Might as well take advantage of the opportunity. And with his teasing, you might as well feed your desires like adding fuel to fire.

"Mhm, yeah." You babble as your hand strokes his cock to drive him mindless too. "Let's do it 'til the windows fog." You peck his jaw until you reach his earlobe. "Or better yet..." Your tongue slithers around his ear, pulling out the cutest whimpers you relish in. "We go at it until the mirrors are covered in cum."

Xavier groans at the thought, vividly seeing his cock slide out your cunt to paint the mirrors in his seed and then make you squirt on it just moments later. Just covering the walls and the floor with your joint lewd slick with the sole intention to please each other until it's too much to want more.

"So vulgar," He guides you to hover over his lap as he sits on the velvet stool, aligning his cock with your puckering pussy. He glances at your reflection, watching his cock slowly sink deeper and deeper until your cunt swallows him full.

You both moan once you settle in that deliciously tight grip, his arms wrap around your waist and squeeze to keep him from cumming on the spot.

"Don't move, baby, don't–" But just your walls tightening around him send ropes of hot cum shooting into you.

"Fuuuuck." He whines into your ear. His hips buck up into yours out of instinct to fuck it deeper into you. "So fuckin' tight you made me cum jus' like that."

You can't help but grin at the sight of him falling apart just from being inside you. Your hips sway back and forth, allowing his cum to cover your walls and work as extra lubrication for you to seamlessly bounce on his throbbing cock.

"Baby– h-hold on–" Xavier's voice hitches as you raise your hips just high enough for his bulbous tip to be the only thing in your cunt before you drop back down onto him. A loud clap echoes from your skin colliding, almost like a coat hanger falling to the floor.

"Is everything alright in there?" A voice from the outside knocks you both back into your senses. "I heard some noise, are you alright?"

You glance at Xavier through the mirror, watching panic slowly rise in his otherwise flustered face. You both find your lips spreading into grins as your hips move in tandem.

"Hello?" The clerk calls from the other side of the curtain as his cock drills deep into you. Xavier's hands catch your soft ass with every bounce, slowing you down before you reach his lap to buffer the noice– but that doesn't stop the slick, squelches.

"If there is something wrong, I'll be stepping inside–"

"No need!" You half-moan half-croon at the clerk while you bounce faster on his cock. Soft plap plap plap sounds grow louder and louder as the thrill sinks into your bones. Xavier merely tilts his head to watch your breasts bounce in the confines of your bra, silently hinting for you to keep talking. "Just– mmh! J-Just dropped a coat hanger!"

The silence from the clerk makes your heart thump against your chest. "Alright then," The clerk finally speaks, with clear suspicion in her voice. "Call if you need assistance."

Her footsteps grow quieter with each second before silence (apart from the wet claps of you ministrations) returns. Xavier gently pats your ass teasingly.

"Way to save our asses." He pecks your nape, before thrusting into you hard. "All while that tight cunt of yours kept squeezing on me. All while we kept going faster and faster. Felt so good, so exciting to do that while that clerk was just outside."

His hands squeeze your tits, watching his cock disappear in your cunt and grind hard like he's in rut while his sacks smack your pelvis with each clap of skin. "Oh my fucking– y-yes Xavier, just like that." our moans, although hushed, reach higher pitches and turn into desperate whimpers.

"Like this?" His fingers find your clit, rubbing circles onto your sensitive nub.

You nod feverishly, eyes crossing at the dual stimulation. His cock drags up and down your gummy walls so good that you can almost feel each vein. He's so devoted with how you take each other, ensuring you feel good while you fuck each other senseless.

"Look at us, baby." Xavier muses, turning your head to the mirror in front of you. The sight of your cum mixing and forming a white ring around his base drives you insane. It leaks all the way down his sacks and onto the velvet chair, marking the room in your lewd act of love.

"So full." He pulls you up, watching his thick length appear and slams you back down into him, plugging you completely.

He can feel himself getting close, just from how harsh he was throbbing inside you and how his sacks tighten visibly, so full of cum just waiting to stuff you to the brim.

You're just as close too, feeling your walls pulse and tighten more than ever, your clit tingles from his sacks gently smacking it every time you bounce on him.

" 'm close, Xav," You whine, feeling your legs tremble from all that bouncing. "Fuck, 'm so close, wanna cum around you so bad–"

"Me too, baby." His lips press hot kisses onto your back and pushes you down for you to grind on each other. "Hold on." He's still rutting his cock into you but he raises your legs, hooking your knees with his elbows and gently pushes your head down with his hands on your nape.

"Xavier–" You choke on your own moans just from how lewd the position is.

"Mhm?" His grin is so damn mean. He knows exactly what he's doing, fucking you so good like this. This might become your next favourite position.

Your tits are squished so tightly together that your nipples poke out of the bra. The fabric of the panties you're wearing are soaked from all the wetness leaking out the open crotch exposing your cunt. Just how are you supposed to pay for it when it's soaked completely?

Fuck, does that even matter when he's in you so good?

"Take a glance, baby." He nudges your head down to watch just how quick and hard he's pounding into you. The way it disappears completely and comes out glistening with your juices drives you insane.

His cock feels so much deeper in that angle, now fucking into your relentlessly while giving your poor legs a rest. You mewl at the penetration alone, feeling like prey to his hunt, restrained in his tight grip and fucked good and senseless.

Fwop fwop fwop and plap plap plap blurs into the same noise, both wet and so arousing. You can barely see each other from how fogged the mirrors are.

"That's it– that's it, I'm gonna stuff you full, baby." Xavier's whisper-rambling now, eyes glued completely on you despite the blur of the fog. He's so enchanted you can feel his cock throb and twitch inside you.

"Fuck– yes, stuff me, baby, fill me!"

And that's all he needs to hear.

With one more sharp thrust, you feel thick strings of his seed fill you up good and that brings you to cum with him. Your walls flutter tight around him, pulsating as you fall apart on each other. Xavier keeps rutting into you giving you all the cum his sacks can make while whimpering your name so sweetly into your ear.

Your walls keep squeezing on him, sucking more and more cum out of him and deep into your cunt.

"Baby– you're milking me dry." Xavier whines as if he isn't the reason you're milking him. Somehow – you're too fucked out to think about the logic – a hand manages to reach your clit to give you extra stimulation while fucking you through your orgasm.

"Too much, Xavier!" You whine through your hushed moans. The squelches and claps only grow louder as you feel your second climax coming. Only this time, it's more intense.

Just a few more thrusts are all it takes for Xavier to take you over the ledge, making your eyes cross as your legs stretch out and tremble from the delicious stimulation.

You cum so hard that your vision goes white, toes curling from the desire shaking in your core. You cunt tightens around his cock as you tense again, spurting clear liquid all over the mirror and each other.

"F-fuck–" Xavier whimpered, feeling the last of his cum spurt out of him and leak out. The sight alone is so lewd that you'd both be willing to go for another round if you weren't at risk of the clerk coming back to check on you.

It takes minutes for you to come down from your highs, relishing in the aftertaste of fucking each other borderline stupid.

Xavier presses gentle kisses onto your skin, whispering praises with each peck. "D'you forgive me?"

Too exhausted to speak, you weakly nod and lean into his kisses. You glance at your reflection and instantly remember your lingerie – which you were trying on – is completely soaked.

"Xavier."

"Mhm."

"How are we going to pay for this?"

"I'll handle it, don't worry." He drowsily hummed, pecking up your neck until he reached your cheek. "If it means I get to see you happy, I'll do this and more."

a/n: i think i'm going to go down a xavier rabbit hole.

#xavier lads #xavier smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #lads #lads shen xinghui #love and deepspace x reader #lnds smut #lnds xavier #l&ds smut #✧.* thalwri #✧.* thalwri works

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girllblogging777 · 8 months ago

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𝑠𝑙𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡 ༉‧₊˚.

↳ y/n being a victoria’s secret angel

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒

✩ his reaction would high key be a mix of pride and possessiveness

✩ he wouldn’t be able to hide how impressed he is, but would cover it up by making jokes about having to fight off anyone who looks at you the wrong way

✩ “guess i’ll have to come to the shows and keep an eye out on you, yeah ? wouldn’t want to see anyone getting ideas”

✩ ngl, kinda toxic but he’d definitely show you off and send pictures of you to his friends

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑡

✩ would probably be a bit more understated

✩ he’d raise an eyebrow at first, surprised, before giving you an appreciative smile

✩ “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you ?”

✩ however he’d prefer to keep his admiration private, telling you how beautiful you looked after the show and photoshoots

✩ the type of guy to record your entire runway performance on his phone even though he could definitely find videos on the internet if he wanted to

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑧𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑘𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑒

✩ genuinely SO impressed by your success and beauty

✩ but when the topic of an actual career and future in the modelling industry comes up, he’d turn passive aggressive

✩ “don’t you think it’s a little… revealing ? do you really need to constantly put yourself out there, strutting around half naked ?”

✩ really, he doesn’t actually mind seeing you like that. it’s more about how possessive he is of you

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑓𝑜𝑦

✩ oh please, that man would definitely act unimpressed at first. i mean, he’s a malfoy after all.

✩ slowly, he’d begin to brag about you to literally anyone who’d listen

✩ “yeah, my girlfriend is a model. she’s very high in demand too, cause well… she’s stunning”

✩ do i need to mention he’d attend every show and watch you from the front row ? cause yeah, he would

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑧𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑖

✩ somehow, that would boost his own ego

✩ you’d constantly catch him smirking as lther guys gawked at you

✩ he knows what they’re talking thinking, but he knows you’re his

✩ “they can look all they want, you’re mine anyways”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @ilovematteoxx @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf

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erandraws · 5 months ago

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I know a 3 for 3 for Laura is great but I think a Dorym silken squall wedding one-shot would eat so incredibly hard

Also, tomorrow marks my one year anniversary of starting Critical Role. This show literally changed my life. I’m so grateful that I get to watch these friends play this game every week, even if I have to wake up at 4 am for it (yes I’m coming out as European I literally willingly wake up every friday at 4 am to watch the new episodes live even though I have Beacon). But anyway enough sappy stuff. This piece (which is my greatest piece ever, let’s be honest) includes a lot of cute details which I will highlight under the cut!

First, these are Dorian and Orym’s full outfits that I had pre-drawn so it would make the process much easier. I did swap out some little things.

Now for the final piece:

- Dorian’s wedding ring includes an emerald (obv bc Orym’s color is green. And it has leaves wrapped around to symbolize Orym’s ties to nature. I did use a lovely reference for this ring from pinterest. Even though Orym’s wedding ring doesn’t show here, I would like to think it has a blue sapphire surrounded by swirly wind designs to symbolize Dorian’s air genasi heritage.

- The embroidery on Dorian’s vest references the day and night cycle, with the sun being highest and the moon being lower. (Also I fucking ate these pearls, they’re stunning)

- Even though Orym’s beautiful tattoo is covered, I still referenced it by ‘carving’ it into his shoulder pauldron. Big moon, little moon.

- Two clothing details on Orym: another Will reference, Orym wears Will’s sash.

- The silken squall wings which are a reference to Dorian’s first outfit.

- And finally, Dorian wears a bunch of flowers in his hair. They’re all white with the exception of a single blue flower. This is in reference to the blue flower Orym druid crafted into Dorian’s hair in one of the very first episodes of the campaign to help Dorian’s performance check. It’s one of their very first cutesy moments, so I thought it was a lovely little detail to include.

#hey guys this took me exactly 22 hours #but dare I say it #i fucking ate this up #please dorym wedding one shot I’m begging on my knees #like I love imodna but I just think they would have a small intimate wedding #and like the dorym wedding would be an entire political event which would have so many one shot possibilities #critical role #bells hells #my art #fanart #dorian storm #orym of the air ashari #dorym #cr3 #critical role fanart

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sourbinnie · 2 years ago

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☆ interrupted tenderness ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> fluff ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> maknae line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> a member walks in when you're having a moment, how do they react? ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> none ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

hyung line

jisung ✉

this ball of sunshine did not care about showing all of his love. yet there were times that he got so shy around you, like when you just started dating or when he had his massive crush on you. it was those times where he just got mesmerized by your beauty and by the fact that you were now his. you were at the dorms cuddling on the couch and he couldn't stop looking at you when you talked, every word going through his head but he couldn't move his eyes from your mouth.

"sung if you want a kiss just tell me." you said as you laughed and he couldn't help but blush. he was so caught up that he didn't even know where his eyes were going and that 'caused you to roll his eyes as you got closer to him.

"i can't help it when you look at that." he said and it was your turn to blush. how could he be so sweet? you really got lucky with him. you were leaning in, closer & closer but then you heard someone come in and it was none other than...

"look at our han jisung doing the dirty when we're not home!" changbin yelled and immediately jisung was behind you, a red mess in his face as he covered it with his hands. you couldn't help but laugh though as obviously you were doing absolutely nothing but now as everyone came in with changbin yelling, it got embarrassing.

god you loved these boys but sometimes they were very dramatic. even when you leaned in to where jisung was, giving him a kiss on the cheek, they were all yelling again. you held your boyfriend in your arms as he tried to calm down but it looked like tonight was gonna be pretty much like this.

felix ✉

now he didn't really mind being all lovey dovey in public. but like jisung, he did get super shy sometimes and you couldn't pop him out of his bubble. he would blush easily whenever you showed affection but he would always respond with the double of love. he was such a loving person, with so much to give all the time and you felt blessed to have met him. you were waiting for him backstage as he finished performing and as soon as they were coming, all the boys waved at you, but one in particular threw himself in your arms.

"lix oh my god, you're all sweaty!" you said but hugged him anyways because you did not care. he just laughed as he placed his head on your shoulder and buried himself in you basically.

"having you here watching me is all i needed." he whispered in your ear and that made your heart skip a beat because you were so grateful to have him. he was so tender and sweet to you that you felt like you did not deserve this beautiful person.

"i want to hug (y/n) as well, come on yongbok!" minho said as felix rolled his eyes but did not move from you. he was very much comfortable in the hug which wasn't breaking any time soon.

minho would never admit it but he was very happy to see his friend in such a blissful state. all of the boys were pleased to have you around if felix was gonna be smiling. as for him, he knew he found the one he wanted when you started whispering sweet nothings to his ear as you held him in the middle of everyone, who just happened to be staring at the joyful scene.

seungmin ✉

he was not embarrassed or shy, he just didn't crave affection that much. until he met you and that's all he cared about, being around you, cuddling you, kissing you and just all over you 24/7. he wasn't clingy but he had to let everyone know that you were his (even though everyone knows that). being with him as he taught you one of the new choreos was very special to you. yes you could've asked anyone from danceracha but you wanted to share a moment with your boyfriend.

"(y/n) what are you doing?" he asked as you surrounded his neck with your arms and pulled him closer. his hands going straight to your waist as he held you. you were smirking as you put his forehead against yours and started the slow steps. "you're not making me slow dance, i'll die."

"you're such a drama queen, please? for me?" you said and he just nodded as you continued to have your little moment with him that you would remember forever.

"hyung are you he- oh my god, i need to film this." jeongin said to which seungmin immediately stopped what he was doing and almost dropped you in the process but his pride was on the line, you would understand.

it was impossible not to laugh at blushing seungmin as he hoped the ground would swallow him. of course the maknae had to walk in at such a tender moment but a certain part of him didn't care. like yes, he was slow dancing with his partner so what? but that wasn't the majority, in the end he was dying on the inside. he still loved you to death though, that's never gonna change.

jeongin ✉

you two were in your own scene all the time. it's like you were in a world where no one could enter, he just loved you so much and he got lost in whatever you were saying or doing all the time. he had heart eyes when you were near every time and you couldn't say that you didn't feel the same way. he was so ready to live every day for the rest of his life with you, it sounds like you were married at this point and it was so sweet. you were supporting him as he recovered his vocals, his voice capturing you and when he came out, he laid down next to you.

"was i good?" he simply asked as he looked at you, soft eyes and a little smile appearing on his face. it made you smile as well how happy he looked and you nodded.

"you're always amazing darling." you responded as you hugged him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead. holding him like you were so protective of your innie, he was always gonna be your baby.

"the lovebirds are acting up again." hyunjin said as he walked in to record his lines and jeongin buried himself in your chest. "it's cute, no need to hide!"

you held him close and pushed hyunjin who kept teasing jeongin. when hyunjin got in the recording booth, jeongin's red face appeared on your sight and you closed the gap to give him a kiss. his hyungs might tease him forever for the things you two do but he could not care anymore if he got to kiss you like that again.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz reactions #skz #skz x reader #skz x gn reader #skz drabbles #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #felix x reader #jisung x reader #jeongin x reader #seungmin x reader

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avianyuh · 5 months ago

Text

Beautiful | Yuta Nakamoto

Summary: How do you avoid your boyfriend when you're having one of those "ugly" days?

word count: 1k

It was just one of those days. To put it blatantly, you were feeling ‘ugly’. Normally, on days like this you wouldn’t leave the house. Stay inside, wear one of your baggiest t-shirts and watch TV. Normally by the next morning you’d be feeling a lot better mentally and you’d resume life. Problem is, now you have a boyfriend. So it’s becoming increasingly harder to get in that alone time, especially on your ‘ugly’ days.

This particular morning, after standing in front of the mirror for 10 minutes, staring at your reflection, squishing your face, rustling your hands through your hair, to no avail, your appearance wasn’t getting more attractive with each attempt to “depuff” your face and eyes or “volumize” your lifeless hair that seemed to look dull regardless of how many times you brushed through it. You felt like you had a weight in your stomach, seemingly feeling bloated all over your body. You didn’t want to be seen. All you wanted to do was cancel your plans and go back to bed and sleep an extra hour or two.

But before you could do that you had to cancel your date with Yuta. Upon dialing his number, he picked up on the second ring. “Baby? Everything okay, I’m heading to your place in a few minutes.” You felt your heart rate increase as you started to feel guilty. You knew this was his one free week this month, normally he’s so busy, but you knew you wouldn’t be any fun in your current state, especially with how sluggish you felt mentally.

“Uh, Yuta I’m sorry this is so last minute but I woke up this morning and I didn’t feel good…Maybe you should keep your distance from me until I feel better.” It was a half truth. You weren’t necessarily sick, but you also didn’t feel your best.

“What’s wrong? Is your throat sore? Is it your stomach?”, he grilled you for answers, his voice laced with concern for your well being evident. You raked your brain for a believable answer, you really did hate lying but you felt that if you told the truth he would find your reason stupid. You also didn’t want your very attractive boyfriend to see you in your not so attractive state.

“A little of everything…”you murmured, trying to sound sick. The line was silent for a few seconds before he responded.

“Yeah, I think I’ll drop by anyways just to check up on you.” Your eyes went wide as you started to plead with him.

“No,no, Yuta please I’m okay, I just really don’t want you to get sick.” Again, the line went silent for a few seconds before he started to speak again.

“If you insist,” he sighed. “I love you” he said as he told you he’d check in later in the day. You threw the phone down on your bed as you let out a shaky breath, thanking the universe for letting that go relatively well. You proceeded with your routine as normal. Big t-shirt, parked on the couch and ready to watch TV. A few hours into your day of hiding, you heard a knock at the door. Now considering you had placed a takeout order, you assumed that was who was standing outside. But to your surprise upon opening the door, you were not met with the delivery driver, but your boyfriend.

He stood there with a big smile, as you gasped. “Y/N, I know you said I shouldn’t come over but you really got me worried. I just had to make sure you were okay.” Yuta explained as he stepped inside and pulled you into a hug. He kissed the top of your forehead before placing the back of his hand on the side of your cheek. “Hm.” He hummed as he performed the same action on your other cheek. ‘You don’t feel warm, so I guess that’s a good sign.” He grabbed your hand as he led you back to the couch. He covered you back in your blanket you had tossed to the other end when you got up to answer the door. “Have you eaten yet?” He inquired as he sat next to you. He was as close to you as he possibly could be, which you found amusing considering he was under the impression that you were sick, yet he didn’t seem to care about his own health at all. He was just so focused on getting all of the facts from you.

“I ordered some food, that’s who I thought was at the door.” You answered.

“That’s good, that means you have an appetite.” He nodded approvingly. “So what is it then that’s bothering you? Do we have to go to the doctors?” His eyes stared into your own with so much intensity and concern. You felt like you could crack at any moment as the guilt started to creep in for lying to him. You let out a frustrated sigh as you shook your head no.

“Yuta I’m fine. I think I’m just having an off day.” He caressed your cheek with one hand as he moved you in closer with the other.

“Was that it all along? So you’re not sick?” He smiled as you hid your face in his shoulder.

“Sometimes I feel kinda bad about myself and I really wasn’t feeling confident enough to see you today. I feel sort of…ugly?” You explained, face still buried in his shoulder so your explanation came out kind of muffled. Yuta lifted your head up so you were looking at him.

“How could you ever be ugly? You’re gorgeous.” He whispered as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kisses were gentle against your lips. Slowly, he started to trail his kisses down your chin, then even further down to your neck. Suddenly, all of those doubts, all of those negative feelings you woke up with, were beginning to fade as his kisses traveled further and further down your body. HIs hands intertwined with yours. You had never felt so beautiful.

{A/N: Basically, when I have writer's block, the only man who can get me out of my procrastination is Yuta. Been loyal to that BEAUTIFUL man since 2018 lmao. I know I've been writing a lot of BTS and SVT stories lately and I've been having a lot of fun (thank you for all of the engagement, you guys really know how to make a girl feel special💓) But the only person I really want to write for in NCT is Yuta and occasionally Jaehyun at this point. Considering the past year, I have trust issues with NCT. But in February, expect more BTS, SVT and idk maybe another group. As always mwahhhh💋}

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #yuta fanfic #nct fluff #nct oneshot #nct imagines #yuta smut #nct x reader #yuta fluff #nct writing #nct masterlist #nct smut #nct blurbs

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elodieunderglass · 11 months ago

Note

Re: your tags on the fungus and petrochemicals:

Excuse me, bramble wine? That sounds absolutely divine, how lucky you are! I hope you enjoyed it (and that I get to make/taste this one day)

(In reference to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/elodieunderglass/757191605386084352/oh-heavens-im-sorry-i-dont-remember-this-at I had to apologise for not being especially coherent in my response to an extraordinarily kind and friendly person as I was several days into a group camping, and had touched too much grass to be coherent, setting aside the bramble wine.)

The camping expedition consisted of seven+ families with children who all know each other extremely well and are growing up in a feral pack together that averages about 30 members. The pack forms at the conjunction of any five children, and therefore often exists in multiple places at once; a mini version can be assembled from as few as two of the core families, but when you have seven of the core, the pack becomes its own entity. For example, exhibiting a fascinating reflection of the hunting behavior of ancestral humans, ten of them together once managed to stalk, hunt and bring down a dragon costume performer at a local festival and sit on it in a few seconds when the adults weren’t looking. They had the light of the hunt in their eyes and they were GOING to have that dragon. Anyway this is not conducive to clear and accurate science communication at the best of times, especially since the usual reason that the pack manages to slip the leash is because the grownups are ordering pints.

For this camping expedition there was one family I didn’t know, but they live on a boat and we could vibe. They were the ones who brought the bramble wine. They were the people who sometimes evolve into Whiskey Hamishes. The bramble wine was made from foraged blackberries, and had been stored in a box on the roof of the boat (so essentially: outside) since 2019. The bottles were covered in rotten leaves and spiderwebs. This is not how you usually treat wine. Even home-brew. Even hedgerow. This is a recipe for converting free materials into as much alcohol as possible without interference.

The wine itself was similar to dark port, very heavy and thick, headachy around the edges. The alcohol percentage was estimated in the double digits. It is hard to explain but the dark black-purple color had no red in it. It was like ink.

Then, after coming into your campsite and kicking most of the party around lightly, it kissed you on the mouth one last time with a mouthful of blackberries and wandered off.

I’ve never had a hangover (hobbit liver) but I didn’t spend much time in dalliance with it. a lot of dads were pretty flat the next morning, but, to be completely fair to them, they DID rouse themselves to take the kids swimming in the river, where they (the dads) laid around recovering like beautiful crocodiles. Thus, all they had to do was lie in the cool mud while children rolled over them like puppies.

Bramble wine!

#whiskey Hamish #feral pack of children

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rafechubbygf · 1 year ago

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rafe cameron x plus size!baddie!chubby!reader

you were the baddie one, but surely, the revenge one. you were the most praised kook ever, because of your daddy’s money. nobody made the most unforgettable, dirtiest, and craziest parties, weirdest as project x ones than you. at first, you were mocked and humiliated, always the center of attention but not for the right reasons and now, you were putting the bullies at your own feet, and you were surely making them hard in your expensive clothes that exposed your curves. some kooks denied the attraction they had for you, others only lived for that.

one day, you were sunbathing on your pool chair, an iced cocktail in your hands, sunglasses on your eyes, luxury hat on your head with a pretty black elbow, the life of a girl who was rich and who had the possibility to use her time as she wanted. you thought you were alone, you wanted to be alone, but someone had burst in front of you.

you knew this face. who didn't know him? it was rafe cameron. the one and only son of ward cameron. one of your father's very close friends.

without shame, he stared at your nice huge boobs which overflowed from your tiny bikini, looking down at your chubby belly. there was no disgust in his eyes. you could even tell he loved it, because he discreetly bit his bottom lip.

“ do you want me to help you daydream about my tits by taking off my top? “

“ so confident about your body. “

“ yes, i love making boys shy. “

he cleared his throat, looking up without being embarrassed.

“ i can bet you’ve never seen one this big.”

“ because you're so aware about my sex routine, yea ? “

“ i know, i'm right. anyway, tell me why are you here, country boy ?”

“ i want to sell drugs at your parties by now. you have all kooks in your house, let me help you make bigger parties. it's a win for the two of us.”

“ i don't need an acolyte. but thanks, sweet proposal, cameron.“

“ but you need a big man. “

you took off your sunglasses.

"you're wrong if you think i need a man. boys like you always humiliated me, thinking i wasn't pretty enough to be respected. so why would i do that for you? what if i say no, rafe ?”

“ absolutly nothing, sweetheart because i will take this for a yes. “

“ do you think i'm scared of you, do you think i can't stand up against you ? “

“ such a big girl, it's supposed to impress me ? do better and harder, you want to show off ? then, perform. “

you rolled your eyes, annoyed by his attitude, while crossing your arms, pressing them against your boobs.

“ also, you're wrong. “

“ about what ? “

“ i like chubby girls. “

“ you're not good at making jokes, rafe cameron. and you just love the curvy sexy side. not the overweight one. “

“ again, you're fucking wrong. “

his look had changed, and his voice tone had become firmer. he was serious. you were starting to doubt.

you always saw boys looking at other girls that you also found pretty, but the way men looked at you made you feel terribly self-conscious before. now you felt better in your body.

“bunny, i can swear i love that plump belly and those fat thighs, and i can go to hell for them.”

“ bunny ? “

“ yes, and trust me, i will make you bounce like them, sweetheart. “

“ what do you mean ? you’re not disgusted by my body?”

“the way your body turns me on, you have no idea, i’m so hard right now. be confident, because my cock is really going to fuck you like you are the most beautiful girl on this earth.”

and then, rafe fucking cameron kneeled at your feet, his hands on your waist, pressing with his fingers your tubby curvy waist, while he kissed your chubby tummy, putting soft kissies on your skin. you can felt the tenderness and warmth covering your pretty belly.

" don't try to fool me, country boy. don't be gentle, when you want nothing that being rough and make me cry.”

“i think your pussy is already crying” he had looking at your dripping fanny and pressed his nose into the fold.

with his fingers, he traced the shape of your fat cunt, pressing on both swollen parts, his thumb against your clit.

“ you're so hot. “

“ and you're so damn hard. “

he pulled your string bikini down to your feet, and you lay down on the pool chair.

"open those legs wide. bunny. i said wider. “

you pushed them aside, revealing your wet pussy. he slipped between your legs, pinning them under his biceps.

“ do you think you can make me cum ? “

“ i will do better than that. what about multiple orgasms, needy girl ? “

he spat on his fingers, before starting to fingering you. you could tell he was good, and it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. his movements were fast, all of your wetness stuck to his fingers as he moved hard into your walls, stretching them. he made your chubby legs tremble on his arms, and your cries became more and more desperate.

"acting like a big girl and now crying like a child, such a pathetic slut."

you didn't respond, your eyes rolling all over the place, while you felt your hole open and clench on his fingers.

he was amused by your noises.

"having fun? you wanted to cry so much? keep dropping those tears, ruin your own dollface, crybaby.”

you were so turned on, your hole was dilated, completely open and his tongue had started to play with your clit, a trickle of saliva slipping to his glistening lips from your arousal fluids at your little button. he had licked it, sucking the pearl harder.

your walls were wrapped around his fingers, the sound steamy and hot of him thrusting inside. you were just a whining mess.

"rafe!...rafe...more!" you cried out.

he moved his digits in and out, you could see his lustrous tongue tucked in your clit, his nose against your pubic. his fingers went deep, covered by your wetness. he had speeded, and started to wreck your count with his big fingers.

“ save your tears, chubby bun, it's the beginning. you think my fingers are big ? fear better of my cock. “

he took off his shorts, tossing it to the side. he was painfully hard. your slobbering lips opened,

he had kissed you, crushing his muscular body against your larger one. you could feel his abs against your belly.

he was an aggressive kisser, kissing your lips violently, possessively.

“ don't kiss me like we are something. “

“ then don't get your pussy soaked like you wanted this more than me. enough talking. “

he made you close your mouth with his tongue, his saliva sliding into yours. you wanted it and you couldn’t deny it anymore. and he understood that.

he had positioned himself between your legs, pressing your thighs against his waist before pushing his cock into your pussy. he gave the first hard thrust, letting out a grunt as he felt how tight and wet you were. you could feel him inside you. his cock was hard to take, but you wanted to make him proud.

your mouth curved into a perfect circle-form, drool falling from your swollen lips. he had started to fuck you deeply, you could feel his hips slapping against your ass, his big balls hitting your thick body. they were full.

you were beautiful, a goddamn plus size hottie kook girl. and you made his heavy fat dick getting monstruous inside you, everytime his tip bumped into your spot. the way your ass jiggles as his deep thrusting, the way all your curves swing harder.

your vision was blurry, because he was fucking you too good. he was sweating. as he filled you, pushing his cock loudly and pounding into your inners so hard that you always ended up letting out a desperate cry. he also touched your curves, tracing their shapes with his fingers, emphasizing how perfect he found them. he also said that from now on, it was his.

"this body belongs to me. and you should really be careful not to forget it, you don't want this to end badly right, bunny?”

your pussy gripped him tighter and tighter, while you held your tits in your hands.

you turned your head quickly to say no. you didn’t want this to end badly but he had grabbed your jaw, gripping it tightly in his hand, forcing your mouth to open and curve, a trickle of saliva slipping from your lip.

“i want a clear answer. i want to hear yes.”

the pleasure was intense, your sensations amplified, the desire became more and more terrible.

your slopping pussy was leaking, and hungry. you could feel every inch of his hard cock, especially when he pushed all the way in.

“ i want to cum…let me cum ! “

“ beg for it and i will see. “

he wanted to continue his thrusts in your pussy. he loved seeing you cry. his sweat ran down his face, a drop glistening on the tip of his nose. his hair was messy, and stuck to his forehead.

“ please…! please…! i'm begging you ! i really need to cum…daddy ?” you tried.

and he had exploded in your walls at the mention of "daddy", making your squirts around his fat dick. your cunt was creamy, mixed with his cum dripping from your slit.

“ what was that ? “

“ what…” you played dumb. “ you mean the daddy thing ? “

“ call me that again and i make your pretty chubby tummy bigger by putting babies inside. “

“ i think you want a next round. “

“ you're right. time to make you pregnant.”

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reidmoony-toast · 9 months ago

Text

Strawberry Wine. ౨ৎ

"If I was empty space, and you were a formless shape we'd fit"

Spencer x fem singer!reader

The two times they miss each other, and the one time they don't

content: no use of y/n, fluff, pining galore

cw: lil suggestive? (She sings Chappell Roan)

wc: 2.4k

an: I've been cooking this up for a while, but life has been super busy, so I haven't yet finished the other parts. I'm very sorry if they take a few weeks to finish :[ Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | series masterlist ౨ৎ

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

He really wished he wasn’t here. He never should have begrudgingly agreed to Penelope’s crazy plans, no matter how much she bugged him about it. This was about as far opposite to his kind of thing that you could get.

The lights were bright–unbearably so; flashing so much he feared he would have an epileptic episode (if it weren’t for the small fact that he didn’t actually have epilepsy, but he digressed).

The large room was also deafening, filled with fans, all of them buzzing in anticipation. Penelope was not an exception–she bounced up and down like a rogue ball, shrieking in excitement close to every thirty seconds. He would know. He had been counting.

Although he would rather be at the very back (if he had to choose anywhere in this wretched place), Penny had physically forced him into the very front row, only a barrier separating them from the stage.

He didn’t know and definitely didn’t want to know how Penelope had acquired such tickets and at such short notice before the show. He had found that he was better living in ignorance of the borderline illegal habits of his best friend.

He had just endured half an hour of what Penny had called the ‘openers’. He was dismayed to hear that the performance was not the actual concert; he learnt that the hard way when he had asked Penelope if they could leave, which she replied to with a cackle, stating that the band that had just exited the stage was, in fact, not the main event of the evening.

He had buried his face in his hands and let out a loud groan. He only had himself to blame for being caught up in the ‘Garcia puppy eyes’ trap, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t whinge at least a little bit–or a lot bit.

He didn’t know much about this singer girl, only that Penelope was obsessed with her, bringing her up in conversation many a time. He admitted that he often didn’t fully (if at all) listen when Garcia gushed over her–he seemed to always zone out.

He had never properly heard her songs, only in passing when Penelope would blast music in her cave, and he didn’t even have a clue what she looked like.

He was mentally preparing himself for the next few gruelling hours, with Penny jumping up and down beside him, when the lights dimmed, sending the whole room into a frenzy.

He winced at the screaming and whooping coming from all around him. Smoke machines started emitting mist, covering the stage and fogging up the colourful lights. The crowd continued to roar, Penelope squealing next to him and gripping the railing of the barrier.

A figure emerged through the haze, the silhouette showing locks of hair cascading over their shoulders, clad in a silk slip dress that ended at the mid thigh, hugging their curves.

They started singing–a smooth, silky voice wrapped around him, making the room suddenly feel more bearable. He swallowed hard. The singing was beautiful. Sweet and rich, wrapping around him like a cosy blanket.

He raised his eyebrows with pleasant surprise. It was, admittedly, not bad in the slightest. He hated to say it, but he was enjoying it, a lot. More than he should, given that it was new-age pop, not the refined tones of classical music–his favourite genre by far.

All thoughts of music flew out of his head as the owner of the angelic voice stepped into the stage lights, allowing him to properly see her for the first time. His breath left his body as he took her in.

She was gorgeous, stunning–almost ethereal, as her other-worldy voice filled his cochlea, transmitting electrical signals through his nerve pathways to his primary auditory cortex.

Her hair shone in the light, giving her a halo of the highest grade, her bright lips curled into a perfect smile around her words, and her eyes shone with a million glinting stars.

He was utterly enamoured by her–every facial expression, every movement she made, every note she sang was all absorbed thoroughly by his wide eyes.

In no time at all, the first song was over, finishing with loud cheering and clapping from the audience. The angel grinned out at the sea of fans, soaking up the feeling.

Unlike Spencer, she was well and truly in her element, looking as though there was not where else in the world she would rather be.

He gazed in open-mouthed awe at the way she floated effortlessly about the stage–and, of course, that breathtaking smile that scrunched her nose and revealed the prettiest dimples he had ever seen.

He was snapped back to reality with a sharp poke in the side from Penelope, centering his gravity away from the girl on stage and back to where he stood.

“What?” He said loudly, an exasperated look adorning his face as he tore his eyes back to his best friend. She was smirking at him, arms crossed in front of herself.

“You have such a thing for her, I’m surprised you're not drooling right now,” she answered mockingly. He scoffed, dismissing her words with a wave of his hands as he faced the stage again, not wanting to miss a moment of the show. He heard Garcia laugh deeply at his half-hearted denial.

All thoughts of Penelope soon left his mind as the heaven-sent saint started to sing again, striking chords in his heart at every note.

The song came and went again, and Spencer wished they would not go by so fast, so he could see her for as long as possible.

The next song started with a more upbeat track, and the angel laughed, running back down stage, scarily close to where Spencer stood. “She was a, Playboy, Brigitte Bardot,” she started to sing, “She showed me things, I didn't know.”

She stuck out her tongue playfully, shaking her hips, making the satin fabric hugging her curves sway.

“She did it right there, out on the deck,” she bit down on her bottom lip as Spencer’s face heated, realising what the song was about. “Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck.”

She gestured with her fingers to a spot on her neck, pretending as if her fingers were the teeth, tipping her head back with imaginary ecstasy. He swallowed heavily, face hot.

“I'm in the hallway waitin' for ya,” she sang, “Mini skirt and my go-go boots,” on those lyrics, she bent over, running her free hand from her heeled boots and up her legs, jutting her ass out.

Spencer’s mouth fell open in shock. He had never felt like this from only a few minutes of meeting someone, let alone just laying his eyes on them. This was completely out of the ordinary for him, and it left him reeling.

~☆~

Songs flitted by like the butterflies in his stomach, and his gaze was permanently fixated on the captivating women centre-stage. He couldn't tear his eyes away even if he tried–and he most definitely didn't.

A new song started, fading in with a catchy guitar riff, and the crowd went wild, sparking a wide smile on the angel’s face.

The drum beat started, and she strutted down the stage, tipping her head back and shaking her smooth curls out in the dim lights before she began to sing. “Midnight,” she dragged out the end of the word.

“Come and pick me up, no headlights,” she blew a kiss to the fans in front of her, winking as she made her way down the stage towards where Spencer was situated.

Penelope grasped his arm tighter and tighter as she neared, buttery voice washing over him.

“Watch us go ‘round and ‘round each time,” she stretched out the note, rolling her head to the side, eyes landing exactly where Spencer was standing. He froze, dumbstruck, as he locked eyes with her.

He gulped heavily as a cheeky grin adorned her face, soft lips framing perfectly white teeth. She straightened up, continuing the lyrics as she floated even closer to him, never breaking eye contact.

“You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye,” She knelt down on the stage in front of Spencer. His breathing stuttered as his gaze remained on her, utterly entranced.

“And I got that red lip classic thing that you like,” she dragged her thumb across her lip, singing to him through a happy, if not slightly teasing, smile.

“‘Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style,” He could see her mouth curving around each syllable as she sang into the microphone, eyes still, somehow, on him.

He most definitely looked like an idiot in that moment, with his flushed cheeks and slack-jawed awe of the ethereal woman only a few feet away, but he didn't have it in himself to care.

She had seen him, and not only that, she had actually come over and sat, right there on the stage in front of him. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, she was–without question–looking, and singing, straight at him.

She leaned impossibly closer, leaving only a few inches between their two faces as she crooned the words into the microphone. His eyes flicked across the features of her face before they settled on her own.

Up close, they were mesmerising– long, thick lashes framed bright irises, sparkling with the light of the night sky– he could almost map out the constellations he knew off by heart from the incandescent twinkles in her eyes.

“You got that long hair, slicked back-” She moved her free hand to hover over the collar of Spencer's shirt, seemingly asking silent consent to touch him.

He shook out of his trance long enough to nod vigorously. She let out a short chuckle, grabbing his collar and carefully but firmly pulling him closer by his shirt. “-white T-shirt.”

His breath hitched as hers ghosted his lips with every exhale, noses almost touching, with hardly any room for the microphone as his heart raced impossibly faster.

“And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” At that, she pulled away, letting go of his collar as she leaned back to run her free hand over her skirt, smirking at Spencer and his flaming-red face.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time,” she repeats, still serenading him. “'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” She finally stood, winking and blowing a kiss at a thoroughly flustered Spencer as she strutted to another part of the stage.

Spencer stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe she had not only noticed him, but also sang right to him. His shirt was crumpled from where she had gripped it, but he didn't dare fix it. If possible, he would never smooth the rumpled fabric if it meant he could have a reminder of her always.

A rough shake of his shoulder brought him back to the present, Penelope standing astonished next to him, incredulous smile playing on her lips and she all but shrieked in his ear–something along the lines of, ‘You're so lucky!’ and ‘You're so down bad!’.

He didn't pay her any mind, instead keeping his still-red face on her, and her only.

She wandered to different parts of the stage during the remainder of the song, but Spencer didn't miss the more-than-occasional glances she sent his way throughout the next few songs, smile growing each time they locked eyes.

When they did, he matched her smile with his own goofy grin, his heart feeling as if it was beating out of his chest, breathing becoming erratic as he clutched the railing with white knuckles.

~☆~

All too soon, the concert came to an end, accompanied by raucous applause from the crowd. He clapped like a mad thing too, finally understanding why her fans acted the way they did.

The version of him from two hours ago would have teased him relentlessly for this, but he didn't care. It was another completely different version of him, a version that had not yet laid his eyes on her.

It certainly felt like a life-altering moment in his existence. His being was now split into ‘before’ and ‘after’. Before and after her.

She waved and blew kisses enthusiastically as she made her way off stage. He deduced that she would have to walk right past Spencer to get there. He pathetically hoped she would look at him one last time–prayed she cared enough to seek him out once again.

Electricity jolted through his entire body, head to toe, as she locked eyes with Spencer when he was in her direct line of sight.

She gave him a wink and a little wave, biting her lip through a larger-than-life grin; he felt giddy, hand coming up in an awkward half-wave. He silently cursed himself for the stiltedness of his actions.

She, however, didn't have such qualms as she blew him an air kiss, giggling as she turned away, skipping the rest of the way off stage. The screaming continued as the heel of her shoe disappeared behind the side-stage curtain.

He felt oddly hollow as the venue lights came back on, signalling the end of the show. He kept staring at the spot where she had last been, silently hoping she would come back out and sing again. Look at him again.

He blinked hard, finally re-orienting himself, glancing around to see a few people staring at him, whispering to themselves.

They were talking about him–about his encounter. He turned away again, ducking his head as his cheeks burned again.

As quickly as they came, the stares went again, and his eyes flicked back to the stage again. He so badly wanted to meet her, talk to her, even just lay his eyes on her again. That would be enough.

Penelope cleared her throat next to him, and he hummed in response, still not looking away. She snorted. “Come on lover boy, time to leave.”

He turned his attention to see her nod in the direction of the exit.

He gazed back at that spot once more, heaving out a melancholy sigh, before turning away, heading towards the door.

“Yeah, let's go.”

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated x

Tags: @reidology13 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

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soleilwoo · 1 month ago

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can you write tbz reaction to collabing with their gf's idol group??

tbz reaction to collabing with their gf's idol group

[☀︎] — sangyeon. he’s supposed to be professional, right? but you could tell he was freaking out. he made sure to help you in anyway he can, like going over lyrics with you or etc. the b loved your collab plus interactions, and they notice both of your amazing leaderships. he gets teased by his members, especially hyunjae who purposely calls him out, “hyung, stop staring at your girlfriend, we’re literally right here.” the b and your groups fandom made youtube compilations titled: ‘sangyeon & y/n being mom and dad for 10 minutes straight.’

[☀︎] — jacob. he’s the most supportive boyfriend ever. he’s smiling the entire time and subtly flirts with you. you get to sing the most beautiful song and your harmonies with his made the hairs rise on his arms every time he hears you sing. he’s nurturing the entire time as well as keeping you on top of your health, making sure you never skip your meals. he keeps it professional during interviews but on stage his heart eyes for you doesn’t go away.

[☀︎] — younghoon. he melts right down to his core, he’s actually so happy omg. he knows all of your groups songs and dances. whenever he did your groups dance challenge on tiktok, he’d cover your part only. bbangbis really like you because you treat him so well and they saw in behind the scene clips how you and him are very comfortable around each other. they start stanning you as well <3 as they should. they even joke about how you’re the secret 12th member of the boyz.

[☀︎] — hyunjae. he loves music and he loves you. his two favorite things in one. both of your fans freaked out when they saw the music video because you’re his love interest. your visuals together?? stopp! everyone would be fangirling and fanboying over you both that ‘y/n x hyunjae’ starts trending on twitter for weeks. if not longer. he gets asked in interviews a lot if he’s dating you because your chemistry was that damn good. and all he does is smirk.

[☀︎] — juyeon. he tries to take it seriously and wants you to take it seriously, too. at the same time, he’s so sweet and makes sure you enjoy doing the collab with him and both of your groups are comfortable with each other, just as much as he’s enjoying doing it with you. he doesn’t like when his members distract you too much. when you’re done recording or practicing the dances, he orders you food because you worked so hard and deserve it. also gets teased by his members because he compliments you so much.

[☀︎] — kevin. he’s super hyped! he campaigned for this to happen for so long and treasures every single second that he gets to be with you and work with you. he loves watching you work and just finds you such an inspiration. there’s lots of stolen kisses between studio sessions and rehearsals, when no one else is around, any chance he gets. he promotes your collab in english and korean and he plays it non-stop.

[☀︎] — new (chanhee). he’s literally so excited to hear your vocals live!! he clings to you the entire time you’re working together. just arm linked around yours. everyone’s wondering where he is when it’s his turn to record his lines and they find both of you giggling in a corner somewhere, like a couple of high school teens. in interviews and fromm he promotes the collab even more than his members and your companies combined. “we worked extremely hard on this collab so please support it!” he says, smiling brightly into the camera. his heart flutters at the many ‘y/n and chanhee surpremacy’ comments <3.

[☀︎] — q (changmin). he’s so happy to be working with you but tries to remain professional. he doesn’t want to seem biased so like he does everyone else, he works you in the practice room like it’s the military. he just wants to make sure you guys nail the dance together (and you did by the way). your collab performance was so good and iconic that it was trending for weeks. that one specific fancam of you two end up floating around in other fandoms’ feeds. he sleeps with you on the couch of the music video set after you’re both finished with recording. he also cuddles you because he has a tendency to do that while he’s sleeping.

[☀︎] — juhaknyeon. he’s completely biased. what collab? what other members of your group? when he got told that your groups would be collabing, he could barely hold back the grin that stretched across his face. he only thinks you’re an amazing dancer and singer. he only shares his lunch with you. and he only brings you water to the recording studio.

[☀︎] — sunwoo. he pretends it’s not a big deal but in reality he’s so happy he can run laps. he wants to be apart of the whole process because he loves having a project that he can put his whole heart into and you’re his whole heart, so working with you is a dream come true. he listens to you with such attentiveness and truly values anything you had to say about the collab. what he can’t pretend is when he’s staring at you so adoringly while you’re working. he just stops for a second and goes “damn.. that’s my girl.” he’s most proud of this project.

[☀︎] — eric. he’s extremely happy and won’t stop talking about it. he compliments you every single second while you’re working together. “y/n i love your voice.” or “y/n, your outfit looks nice today.” just finding ways to keep your focus on him and he keeps making you forget the choreography. his manager scolds him, thinking: ‘i swear to god eric if you don’t stop i’m going to separate you two!’

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ateez-himari · 1 month ago

Text

250515 ; FROM THE THRONE

[NEW MESSAGES FROMM HIMARI]

[AM 9:01] Hanzo nii-chan texted me this saying we look the same ㅎㅎ I don't think so though, that poor baby looks so confused, not a thought behind those eyes

[AM 9:02] No...I was talking about the tiger, not me, the tiny thing doesn't even know it exists. Yes I'm still talking about the tiger-

[AM 9:03] My sister in-law congratulated me first this morning because she saw the post while my big brother was training

[AM 9:03] Hanzo nii-chan was trying to make up for the missed time by sending me videos and texts all at once ㅎㅎ He even told his teammates

[AM 9:04] The members woke me up with so many pastries, they were all really emotional. Hongjoong oppa actually cried, it must mean a lot to him too

[AM 9:04] His words were the most memorable, he said 'we made it, so you can rest now, please don't worry about the future anymore'

[AM 9:04] I guess I shouldn't share too many emotions today, our Tiny seem to be celebrating too ㅎㅎ I think I'm still having a hard time believing it

[AM 9:05] As producers we look up to the people at the top of the charts because we know how much it took to reach these heights, but now that I'm there...

[AM 9:05] I don't know, there's much more to achieve, no doubt about that, but it's kind of scary in a sense? Sorry I'm not making sense, I'm overwhelmed ㅎㅎ

[AM 9:06] It was never about recognition no, music has always been some sense of escape for me. Performing was encouraged by fear, and producing by passion

[AM 9:07] You guys have seen so much over the years, some of you even noticed the changes firsthand right? I hope I can make you and the members proud

[AM 9:08] That's a very complicated question...I'm not in the same mindset as when I wrote 'Shadow' or even 'AM 4:44' but you know, some days have been hard recently

[AM 9:08] There's nothing to blame, Tiny. Not everything is going to piece itself back together even after healing, and you have to live with that. It's what the tattoo around my ear means, nothing will ever be perfect, but even in this there is beauty

[AM 9:08] Look at it this way, parts of my past were very sad, they broke me, took something from me, but without those many songs would have never been created

[AM 9:10] ㅎㅎ T.O.P sunbaenim sent me the billboard post just now with question marks. The truth is I've known for around a month but didn't tell anyone-

[AM 9:10] Since Mingi oppa didn't reveal much about our new apartment, no one knows where it is, but I still covered myself fully to attend schedules just in case

[AM 9:10] How do you guys know...he must have told you. I'm so excited, working on Seventeen sunbaenim's new comeback was amazing! I can't wait for you to listen

[AM 9:11] I know the notifications are blowing up my phone, I figured that BND and Xikers would post about it since I'm their producer but still ㅜ.ㅜ I'm very shy

[AM 9:11] I'll work even harder to maintain my position then ㅎㅎ Anyway, sorry my precious Tiny but it's time to go practice now, we have a performance today! I'm excited, it's been a bit since we went up on stage. Since it's such a special day please cheer as loud as you can ♡ Love you so much, kisses!

[AM 9:13] that's my girlfriend by the way, stay jealous 😒

Translated from Korean by Google

Taglist ; @prbywoo

#ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez 9th member #ateez extra member #ateez female member #kpop oc #HimaSocial♡#HimaFromm♡

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amalythea · 2 months ago

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「 mermay day one: kaveh 」

⤷ info: mer!kaveh x gn!reader || fluff || wc: 5034

⤷ warnings: none that i can think of

⤷ extra: happy mermay!! especially to @lexisism and @circism <3

The sea is quieter in the mornings.

You rise before the sun fully warms the sand, when the shoreline is still untouched by footsteps and the gulls haven’t begun their shrieking. There’s a hush to everything—the gentle lap of waves, the occasional whisper of wind through the windchimes on your window, the creak of your screen door as it swings shut behind you.

You take your time walking, barefoot as always. The wet sand clings to your soles, cool beneath your feet, and you let your gaze drift out across the horizon. The tide is low today, pulling back like a breath held between stories. Bits of kelp have tangled near the rocks. A line of shells curls like a comma up the beach, as if the sea meant to say something but stopped halfway through.

You speak softly as you walk. To yourself, or to the ocean—sometimes it’s hard to tell.

It’s become a habit, really. Whispering observations, muttered thoughts, the occasional line from a book half-remembered. The sea doesn’t respond, of course, but it listens in its own way. The rhythm of waves often fits the cadence of your voice, and sometimes, when the wind changes, you imagine it’s carrying your words farther than you intended.

Your mornings have their rituals. You comb the shore for smooth glass and driftwood, pausing to inspect anything that glints in the sand. You pass the same weathered signs nailed to old piers. You nod to the lighthouse, though no one has tended it in years. You hum when you don’t feel like talking.

Some days, you read aloud.

Not because anyone’s around—there never is—but because the words feel better out in the open. You perch on a rock or sit with your back against a sun-warmed slope of sand, book balanced on your knees, and let the sentences wander into the salt air. The pages flutter in the breeze. You stumble occasionally, lose your place, but keep going anyway. It’s not a performance, after all.

You never expect anyone to hear you. Not really.

The first time you notice the carving, it’s tucked near the edge of a tide pool.

You almost miss it. It's thin, pale wood, shaped by water and time, and the surface is covered in delicate whorls—patterns that seem to ripple and curl like sea foam. It's too precise to be natural. Someone took time with this. Someone shaped it with care.

You run your fingers over the grooves. The touch is smooth but purposeful, like the markings are meant to be read, even if they don’t form any language you know.

You glance around. The beach is as empty as always. No footprints but yours.

You tuck the driftwood into your bag.

The next day, another one waits, nestled in the crook of a rock like it was placed there intentionally. This one is darker, richer in color, and the carvings are different—more geometric, almost like overlapping waves. You study it for a long moment, then set it beside the first on your windowsill when you return home.

You’re not sure why you keep them. They feel like… offerings. Messages without words. Beautiful, curious things left behind by someone who doesn’t want to be seen but very much wants to be heard.

It happens again the next week.

Then again.

Always in the morning. Always just before the tide begins to creep in. Sometimes you find them half-buried in sand. Once, one had a strand of seaweed knotted gently around it, like a ribbon.

You wonder, at first, if it’s a local playing games. A quiet artist. A bored teenager. But none of those ideas fit. There’s too much intention in the placement, too much elegance in the design. Whoever’s leaving them doesn’t want to be caught—but wants you to notice. Wants you to keep them.

One morning, on impulse, you leave a note.

You write it on a scrap of parchment and seal it inside a small glass jar, which you bury halfway in the sand where the last carving had been. It’s not much—just a thank you. And a question, written without any expectation of answer:

“Why?”

No one responds.

Not at first.

But the next time you find a carving, it’s different.

Your breath catches when you see it.

It’s a spiral. Carved deep into the surface, the grooves weaving in and out like the rhythm of a tide. Not quite a word, but close—like the path a seashell takes as it forms, winding inward with quiet intention. It reminds you of the trails your fingers leave in wet sand when you're lost in thought. A rhythm shaped by habit. A pattern shaped by presence.

It’s not a message. It’s a mirror.

And you realize: someone’s been listening, observing.

You don’t see them—not yet.

But the beach has begun to feel different. The water lingers longer near your feet, the breeze carries a hush that feels almost expectant. You start looking out past the surf more often. You pause before you speak, glancing sideways as if someone might be just beneath the surface, waiting.

You’re not alone out here.

You never were.

You start reading slower after that.

Not by design, not even consciously at first—but the rhythm of your voice changes. Words stretch longer, hang heavier in the air, as if you’re giving someone time to listen. Sometimes, you read the same paragraph twice. Sometimes, you stop midsentence just to watch the waves shift and wonder if that spiral carving really was an answer.

The carvings keep coming. One appears coiled around a feather you’ve never seen before—long and translucent, tinged with color like coral caught in light. Another is heart-shaped, warped from saltwater but unmistakably intentional, the grain worked with fine detail you can't imagine replicating with even the most delicate tools.

It starts to feel like a conversation. One where you speak in stories and find answers in patterns carved into driftwood and left with care.

You begin leaving more notes—brief ones, not full letters, just things you think to say. "I like the feather. Do you live nearby?" "This one reminds me of a moon snail shell." "What’s your name?"

You don’t get answers to the questions. But the carvings continue. And sometimes, the next one reflects something you mentioned. A spiral after you read about whirlpools. A long slat of wood with tight little interlocking curves, just like a nautilus diagram you’d left open on your desk that morning, facing the window.

Sometimes you wonder if it’s your imagination. A strange kind of loneliness shaping the world around you, filling the silence with meaning. But then a morning comes when the tide smells different, sharper and cleaner, like rain before it falls. You step outside barefoot as always, the wood of the porch warm from early sun, and the breeze curls against your neck like breath.

The beach feels... alive.

You don’t bring a book that morning. Just your bag, a light shawl, and your thoughts. You walk slower than usual, listening, scanning the waterline like you might catch movement beneath it.

It’s low tide again. Pools have formed between the rocks, and the sea is glassy with calm. The air smells like brine and sun-warmed algae, the kind of scent that stains your clothes even after you wash them.

You reach the place where the driftwood usually waits—and find nothing.

No new carving. No feather. Just sand, flat and untouched, the rocks glistening with the retreating tide.

Your chest sinks a little. Maybe it’s over. Maybe they’ve gone.

And then—movement. Just at the edge of your vision.

You freeze.

It’s not a gull, not a fish. Too big. Too deliberate.

There—by the rocks. Something—someone—moves through the shallows with grace that doesn’t belong to any land-walker you’ve ever seen. The water barely stirs around him, and yet it parts for him like it knows how he wants to move.

At first, you only see the arc of a shoulder, slick with seawater and gold light. Then a line of long hair, wet and streaming like pale silk. You catch the glint of a tail, glimmering bronze and rose-gold beneath the surface, scales catching the light like stained glass.

And then, he rises.

You don't breathe.

He is beautiful—not in the clean, delicate way of portraits, but in a dramatic, breathless kind of way, like he belongs to poetry more than reality. His hair clings to the curve of his jaw and over his collarbone, plastered down in rivulets, but the shape of it only makes the angles of his face sharper. His eyes—sun-struck and mesmerizing—fix on you with an intensity that makes your skin warm.

He is bracing himself on a rock, arms bare and lean, his tail coiled beneath the surface. You hear the wet shift of his fins moving, delicate and soundless.

You open your mouth.

Nothing comes out.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. He looks at you with the stunned expression of someone who’s been caught mid-thought—like he meant to observe, to listen from a distance, and was pulled to the surface before he realized it. His gaze flicks to your hands, then your eyes again.

And then, he speaks. His voice is smooth, low, with the kind of cadence that suggests music more than conversation.

"...You’re earlier than usual."

You blink. You weren't expecting a voice.

He blinks too, as if surprised by his own words. Then, with a small huff, he glances aside and swipes wet hair out of his face. The movement is graceful until he tries to flip it back properly and miscalculates the angle—his elbow slips on the slick rock and he lets out a startled noise, catching himself too late.

Your hand flies to your mouth before you can help it. He looks up, eyes wide, then narrows them slightly like he’s weighing whether to pretend it didn’t happen.

“I meant to do that,” he says, too quickly.

You don’t laugh. You try not to. But a sound escapes anyway—half choked, half delighted—and the moment it does, something in his posture relaxes.

"You are the one who’s been reading," he says, watching you again. “I thought so.”

He shifts in the water, and a small wave ripples outward from him, stirring foam over your toes. “You have a lovely voice. Though your metaphors are questionable.”

You take a step closer, still stunned.

“You’re the one who’s been leaving carvings,” you say, softly. “Aren’t you?”

He smiles, and it’s a little crooked. A little proud.

“I thought you’d notice.”

His hair clings to his cheek, his shoulders are gleaming with sea spray, and the sun casts shimmer through the water around him. He looks like something the ocean made just to prove it could.

You’re not sure if this is a dream.

You’re not sure you want to wake up if it is.

“I didn’t think you’d ever let me see you,” you admit.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says.

Then, after a pause, quieter: “But I’m glad I did.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s delicate—like sea glass balanced on your palm, clear and fragile and humming with weight. He watches you with a strange kind of openness, like he's never had to hide what he feels, even when he tries to. His expression is thoughtful and bare, and when he tilts his head, the water shifts around him like it’s listening too.

You lower yourself to the sand without thinking, folding your legs beneath you and letting the tide inch closer. He seems taller now, even partially submerged, but not in a way that feels distant. He leans forward a little, arms braced on the rock, and rests his chin on his hands like he’s settling in. Like he's been waiting for this.

You don’t know where to start. There’s a quiet flutter in your chest, something like nerves but not sharp enough to hurt. Just awareness—of the moment, of him, of how utterly surreal it all is.

“You really made all those carvings?” you ask at last, voice soft. “By hand?”

“With my claws,” he corrects with a little grin. Then, more seriously, “Yes. Or...well. Not all by myself. I have tools. Carving coral and driftwood is common where I’m from. But I suppose I get a bit more dramatic with it than most.”

“You don’t say,” you murmur, glancing toward the sea where so many of his pieces had floated in like messages in bottles.

He doesn’t seem offended. In fact, he brightens. “They’re not supposed to last. The wood decays, gets washed away. That’s the beauty of it. It's meant to be fleeting. Like waves. Or first light.”

“That’s...beautiful,” you say, and mean it.

He beams, but then his smile falters slightly. “Most people at home say it's wasteful.”

You look at him then—really look—and you see the flicker behind his proud expression. Not insecurity, exactly. Just a kind of quiet, worn frustration. The kind that comes from trying to explain your heart to people who only listen with their heads.

“They’re wrong,” you say.

He blinks at you, startled, and then looks away quickly, like the compliment lands somewhere deeper than he was prepared for.

You talk for a while—just little things, at first. He tells you about currents that run under the cliffs nearby, how he likes to ride them with his eyes closed. You tell him about the way the tide pulls different kinds of shells each season. He lights up when you describe the soft ones, the fragile little fans that splinter like sugar. “We don’t have those,” he says, and you promise to save one for him next time you find one whole.

His world sounds vast and impossible. He speaks of it like art—of sculpted coral towers and long trails of glowing seaweed, of orchestras made of whale-song and hollow shells, of night-time ceremonies lit with jellyfish lanterns. He talks with his hands, gestures sweeping and loose, and his tail flicks idly in the water like it has thoughts of its own.

“You talk like the sea’s in love with you,” you say at one point, half-joking.

“It is,” he replies without hesitation, grinning. “Or at least, I like to think so. I flatter it often.”

He tells you his name. You repeat it, savoring the syllables, and he closes his eyes like the sound of it pleases him. Then you tell him yours, and he repeats it under his breath, carefully, reverently, like he’s engraving it into memory.

Time becomes loose around the edges. You don’t notice how long you sit there until the tide creeps past your ankles and soaks your hem. You don’t care. Kaveh talks like each thought is a gift, and when he listens, it’s like nothing else in the world exists.

When you mention your habit of reading aloud, he lights up. “That was you,” he says again, softer now. “I wondered if you were doing it on purpose.”

“I wasn’t,” you admit. “At first.”

He leans forward slightly. “And now?”

You feel yourself blush under his gaze. “I suppose... I started hoping someone was listening.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but his smile returns—gentler this time, almost shy.

“I always listen,” he says. “Even on the days I can’t surface. Even when I can’t understand all the words.”

You draw your knees closer to your chest, unsure what to do with the warmth that curls in your stomach.

He notices your silence but doesn’t push it. Instead, he hums—a soft, strange melody that lilts like the tide, and for a few seconds, you forget the air, forget the sun, forget everything but the echo of it in your chest.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” you say eventually.

Kaveh looks at you for a long moment. His fingers trail through the water, slow and absent, and his tail sways lazily beneath him. There’s something new in his eyes now—vulnerable, uncertain, and very real.

“I could say the same,” he whispers.

You don’t know what to do with the moment. So you sit with it. With him. With the quiet.

Then he shifts slightly, glancing back toward the open water. The tide is coming in again, faster this time, licking up the sand in greedy strokes. He looks torn—reluctant to go, but aware that he must.

“I should go,” he says, softly. “But...I’ll be back.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to say more.

Kaveh hesitates, then reaches for something tucked behind the rock. It’s a small piece of driftwood—pale and smooth, shaped into a curve like the cusp of a wave. He holds it out to you.

“For when you miss the sea,” he says, eyes twinkling.

You take it with careful fingers, cradling it like something precious.

And just like that, he pushes off the rock and slips into the water. His tail arcs once in the sunlight—rose-gold and luminous—and then he disappears beneath the surface.

You sit there long after the ripples fade. Listening. Waiting.

The carved driftwood rests warm in your palm.

And for the first time in a long while, the beach doesn’t feel lonely anymore.

There’s no line you can draw between when he was a stranger and when he became… something else.

It just happens. Quietly. Like low tide becoming high. Like wind shifting without warning.

One day he’s a curiosity, a story you might never tell anyone. The next, he’s part of your rhythm. You find yourself pausing mid-sentence when you read aloud, waiting for the soft splash of him surfacing. You start bringing extra towels down to the shore, even though he never uses them. Your pockets grow heavier with shells you think he’ll find amusing, odd-shaped stones, coral fragments that remind you of his sketches.

You know the exact pitch of his laugh now—the way it catches when he’s trying not to make fun of you and always fails. You’ve learned he’s dramatic about the smallest inconveniences (“How is it that you creatures tolerate sand in your shoes?”), and yet heartbreakingly quiet when talking about things that clearly matter (“Sometimes I swim just to feel far away from my own thoughts”).

And he listens.

God, he listens. You once made a joke about the way the gulls here sound like they’re arguing over taxes, and three days later, he brought you a carved figurine of two birds mid-shout, complete with little stormy eyebrows and an exaggerated fish bill between them.

You keep it by your bedside.

You never intended to fall for him.

But now, you catch yourself tracing your name where he once said it, lingering in the soft hush of dawn when you hope he’ll be waiting. You memorize the curl of his hair when it’s slicked back from the tide. You think of his voice when your room is too quiet, when the wind rattles the shutters and you find yourself longing for a melody shaped like him.

And the worst part?

You’re terrified.

Because it’s ridiculous. He’s—he’s ocean. He belongs to depth and salt and light that filters through water instead of windows. And you—you’re just you. You can't hold your breath long enough to meet him where he lives. You can’t turn into anything he could keep.

But even knowing that, you never stop coming.

Even on days when it rains. Even when your heart pounds too loud when he tilts his head at you just so, and your stomach twists because this shouldn’t be real, shouldn’t be possible, and yet—there he is. Always.

Or… he was.

At first, you don’t notice. The days blur. He misses one morning, then two. You assume he’s busy. Tides shift, after all. Maybe he’s gathering supplies. Visiting family. You sit on the familiar rock anyway, reading aloud with your voice a little softer, your eyes flicking to the waves more often than they used to.

Then the days stretch longer. He comes, but briefly. He doesn’t swim up right away—he lingers at a distance, floating just beneath the surface. When he does speak, it’s a little hurried. Distracted. He doesn’t carve you things anymore.

You try not to take it personally. Maybe something’s happening undersea. Maybe he’s needed elsewhere. You tell yourself not to push, not to ask. You’ve never asked anything of him before. Why start now?

But the silence settles deeper. The waves still carry the same salt, the same lull. And yet it feels… different. Lonely, again. Like before.

You begin to count the gaps between his visits. Three days. Then five. Then a week.

You keep coming.

You sit with a book you can’t focus on, lips moving through words you barely process. You leave pebbles stacked by the tide line. You hum his melody under your breath, just in case he hears it.

Nothing.

You try to be rational. You tell yourself not to spiral. But still, it scratches behind your ribs.

Did you talk too much last time? Was he overwhelmed? Did you—did your eyes linger too long? Did you say something foolish? Maybe he realized. Maybe he knows. That you're falling. That it’s not just curiosity or friendship or fascination anymore.

That he matters.

You shouldn’t have let that happen. You shouldn’t have hoped for more.

And so you sit, again, in the late afternoon light, watching the waves lap the rocks. The sun begins to sink behind the horizon, casting orange across the shallows. The water is still. No movement. No shimmering tail. No glint of wet gold hair catching the light.

Just the sound of your own breathing.

The ache that lingers in your throat is unfamiliar.

You wonder if he’ll come tomorrow.

You wonder if you’ll see him again at all.

You wonder—softly, bitterly, and with more weight than you’d like to admit—if you did something wrong.

The shore feels quieter without him. That’s the first thing you think as you approach, the sand cold against your ankles despite the afternoon warmth. You’ve started coming later now, half-hoping the changing tides might bring him back. Half-hoping the world will tilt again in your favor, just slightly.

And then, the water shifts.

You almost miss it at first—just a ripple, a glimmer, the sound of something moving beneath the surface. But you freeze mid-step, heart catching as you watch the pale outline beneath the waves draw closer.

It’s him.

He surfaces slowly, as if unsure. His hair is longer than you remember—wet gold clinging to his shoulders, the strands at his temples darker now from days in the deeper sea. His expression is unreadable at first, the lines of his face soft with hesitation.

You don’t think. You call his name.

Louder than you mean to.

He startles, flinching slightly—not because of the volume, you think, but because you noticed. Because you sound like you care. Because you sound a little like someone hurt.

He begins to turn.

“Wait—please, don’t go.”

He pauses. Doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I just…” You breathe in deep, the wind catching your words. “I want to talk. Just talk. Please.”

There’s a long silence. Then he sighs—dramatic, but tired—and drifts closer to the rocks, resting his arms on one. He doesn’t look at you directly, but he stays.

It’s enough to make your chest squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

He blinks.

You sit down clumsily on your usual spot, fingers curling into your sleeves. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I wasn’t trying to—” The words rush out before you can stop them. “I thought maybe I said something or stared too long or maybe I kept you too long or maybe—maybe I wasn’t respecting your space and I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t know how to—”

“Wait,” he says, brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

You falter, suddenly aware of how fast you’ve been speaking. His eyes are wide in that soft, ocean-glass way they get when he’s confused and concerned all at once.

You exhale slowly.

“I thought I pushed you,” you admit, quieter now. “That I crossed a line. That I made you want to stay away. And I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed. I should’ve asked. I never meant to make you feel like you had to leave.”

His lips part, as if to speak. Then he closes them again.

He looks… embarrassed. Genuinely. His fingers twitch against the stone, his gaze darting briefly toward the water like he’s considering sinking beneath it again.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” he says finally. And it’s soft. Sincere. “I left without saying anything. I didn’t want to—hurt you. But I did anyway.”

You blink. “You didn’t—”

“I did.” His voice is firmer now. Still quiet, but with that conviction you’ve come to know. “I know I did. And I’ve regretted it. Every day.”

He’s silent again for a moment. You can see it in the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers curl slightly against the stone. Whatever he’s about to say, it costs him something. You wait.

“I like you,” he says, finally, in a breath that’s barely audible over the waves.

It takes you a second to register it.

“I like you,” he repeats, a little more desperately now, like he thinks you didn’t hear the first time. “And I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought… if I stayed away, maybe it would fade. Maybe I’d stop thinking about you every time I saw a shell shaped like your laugh, or heard your voice in the tide.”

You stare at him.

His cheeks are flushed now, pink all the way to the tips of his ears. He still won’t meet your eyes.

“I thought I couldn’t give you what you deserved,” he says softly. “I don’t have a place here. Not really. I can’t walk with you. I can’t share your world. I didn’t want to keep coming and make it harder. For either of us.”

You don’t know when your throat started hurting.

“I missed you,” he finishes. “Every single day. Even when I told myself not to.��

The quiet hangs between you again. This time, it’s not heavy.

You reach out, letting your fingers skim the edge of the stone where his hand rests. He tenses slightly—but doesn’t pull away.

“You could’ve just told me,” you say gently.

He huffs, flustered, finally daring to glance at you. “I’m not good at these things.”

“No,” you agree, smiling softly. “But you’re here.”

And that’s what matters.

That he came back. That he stayed. That he told you.

That he missed you too.

There’s a strange kind of quiet after confessions. Not the absence of sound, but something slower—like the air itself has softened to let you breathe differently. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. Not right away.

Instead, you both just sit there. Close enough now that your fingers graze when you both shift, awkwardly aware of the space you share and the space you don’t—land and sea, dry and water-warmed.

Kaveh’s still looking anywhere but at you. He’s wound tight as the tide at moonrise, knuckles pale where he grips the edge of the rock. You want to reach for him again, but part of you doesn’t want to push.

So you speak.

“I missed you too.”

His head jerks slightly, like he hadn’t expected it. Like all the fears in his chest didn’t allow him to imagine that might be true.

You continue, softer. “Not just your voice, or the carvings. I missed you. Your terrible seaweed jokes. Your stories about coral tides. The way you ramble about shape and beauty and forget to breathe—if you even do breathe, I still haven’t figured that out.”

“I do breathe,” he mumbles, voice muffled behind one hand.

You smile. “Good. That’d be really inconvenient otherwise.”

He laughs under his breath. It’s small. A little surprised. But the tension in his shoulders lessens just enough for the moonlight to find him again.

And still, neither of you moves.

You could say something else. Something clever, or gentle, or carefully phrased. But none of that would be honest. Not now. So you just look at him—at the flush blooming across his cheeks, at the long strands of hair clinging to his skin, at the way his gaze flickers nervously toward your mouth when he thinks you won’t notice.

It’s a look you recognize. You’ve worn it too.

“I want to kiss you,” you say, quiet but sure. “If that’s okay.”

His breath catches.

His golden eyes finally meet yours—and they’re wide, uncertain, almost startled. But he doesn’t pull away. His lips part slightly. He blinks once, then again, and slowly, shyly…

He nods.

You lean in first, careful and slow. The rock beneath your hand is slick with sea salt, and your heart beats too fast, but you don’t stop. You wait—wait until he tilts toward you, until the sea between you grows still, until his eyes flutter closed and yours follow.

And then—

Warm.

Softer than you imagined.

He kisses like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. Like if he moves too fast, it’ll all dissolve into foam and he’ll wake alone again. But when your fingers brush lightly against his, he leans in just enough for the sea to ripple between you.

It's clumsy in the way only first kisses can be. Salt on your lips, a little uneven from the rock’s height, your noses bump awkwardly—but none of that matters. Because it’s him. And he’s here. And this is real.

When you part, his face is redder than the sunset.

He ducks his head, curls of hair falling into his eyes.

“…That was nice,” he mumbles, almost sheepish.

You grin. “Yeah. It was.”

And for the first time in weeks, the sea feels like it’s breathing with you again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2025. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

#「 birth of a supernova」#—stellaronhvnters.#mermay #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #mermaid kaveh #mer kaveh x reader

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writingdevil · 5 months ago

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hi!! :3 ouh for the writing request, if you dont mind, how about smitten and opportunist? i like them as a ship but you can do them platonically too if you prefer 👍👍

(I think they'd be such a good ship! The one who manipulates and lies meets the world's most unabashedly passionate and loving person in the world! I think Opportunist wouldn't be able to help but fall for Smitten's words of love, and that Smitten would find Opportunist's attempts to charm and suck up to him adorable! Anyway, enjoy!)

"How do I look?"

"Absolutely beautiful, if I do say so myself."

Opportunist smiled at the way Smitten's feathers puffed up under his praise. Smitten had been complaining about the state of his feathers, and Opportunist had so graciously offered to preen him, and Smitten had been nothing but grateful.

They were currently sitting on Smitten's bed, and Opportunist's eyes were taking in every inch of the room-not that it was very shocking or useful.

Smitten kept his room at a really weird halfway point between messy and clean. He had handwritten poems and emotional letters strewn all around his desk and windowsill, but the entire area around his bed was spotless, not a stray feather to be seen. It was as if Smitten was trying to look as put together and as perfect as he felt was needed, but his passions and intense bursts of love spilled out into his room. It looked like he was trying to impress someone, but that someone was also making Smitten express himself in the most chaotic way possible.

Opportunist didn't mind it, really. It was nice to be allowed to peer inside the private rooms of his flockmates-most of the others didn't trust him inside their bedrooms, but Opportunist thought they were being overly cautious. He wasn't going to back stab them or anything-just look at him and Smitten! He's been preening his wings for half an hour, and Smitten didn't have a hole in his back yet. He'd say that was all the evidence the others needed.

Smitten hummed lowly as Opportunist straightened a feather that was awkwardly poking out, and the sound made a low heat form in his chest. He wondered if Smitten would keep making sounds like that if he showed him how good at preening Opportunist was.

Opportunist wasn't sure why he even offered to preen Smitten, besides the fact that Smitten was incredibly kind and was never mean or distrusting to Opportunist once. It was just-nice to not have to work so hard to please others. Smitten was so easy to convince that Opportunist was genuinely sweet and innocent, so he never had to perform that much for him. In a weird way, this was the closest thing Opportunist could call a break for himself, to not use one of his many masks so much, even if he was still wearing one.

Smitten just made everything feel lighter-not as important, and Opportunist really liked that.

Opportunist smiled, leaning back to inspect his handiwork. "All done!" he announced, and Smitten straightened up, glancing over his shoulder to try and look down at his wings. "Really? Oh, thank you Oppy, you are a darling. You took such good care of my precious wings-what a sweetheart you are."

Those words went straight to Opportunist's head, covering his mind with a blanket of warmth he doesn't usually feel. He ducked his head and smiled softly, hoping Smitten didn't notice how his words were affecting him. It wasn't often that Opportunist got complimented, much less for something that he was doing honestly.

Smitten looked over his shoulder, and Opportunist was quick to replace his soft smile for a confident one. "May I repay you for your kindness by preening your wings?"

Instinctively, Opportunist's wings tensed up and pressed up against his back. He tried to keep the panic and anxiety out of his voice as he chuckled and said, "Oh, you don't have to do that for me, Smitten."

But Smitten's voice was firm and determined as he responded with, "Yes, but you were kind enough to take some time out of your day to care for me. I'd like to return the favour."

Opportunist shook his head, going, "No need! It's what flockmates are for. Besides, my wings don't need to be preened." Opportunist spread out one wing for Smitten to see, showing the perfect condition they were in.

Opportunist would never let anybody preen his wings. It required too much trust and vulnerability on his part, to turn away from someone and show his back to them. Opportunist wasn't about to put himself in a position where all his feathers could be ripped out in a matter of moments. That's why he made sure to preen them every night by himself in the comfort and safety of his own room.

He felt Smitten slump in defeat as he looked at Opportunist's wings, and said, "They do look lovely right now. You clearly have a talent for taking care of things."

Despite how incorrect Smitten was, Opportunist still flushed at the compliment, quickly folding his wings behind his back so that Smitten didn't see how much his words affected him.

He knew that he needed to leave and compose himself, but Smitten unexpectedly sighed dramatically and leaned back against Opportunist's chest, putting all his weight against him and trapping him to the spot.

Opportunist froze, hands awkwardly hovering in the air, the feeling of Smitten pressed against him making his head spin. Had anyone ever casually leaned against him before? He knows Contrarian does it to anyone near him, but Opportunist wasn't sure if he's ever been a victim of it.

"U-Um-Smitten? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine,"he replied calmly, lifting a hand in the air to gracefully wave Opportunist's concerns away, "I just wanted to rest with you. Is that alright?"

Was it? "I-I-I guess so." Opportunist was mentally kicking himself for stuttering like that. This was Smitten-there wasn't any way that this fanciful bird was a threat to him. He needed to calm down.

Smitten tilted his head back to meet his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he studied him for a few seconds, and Opportunist tried extremely hard to look as composed and as confident as he usually does. After a few seconds, Smitten hummed in that way he liked and said, "You are very handsome. Did you know that?"

Out went his composure.

"Excuse me?" he squeaked out, feeling his entire face heating up in a way that he knew he couldn't hide-and don't even get him started on his feathers!

He gulped, and laughed lightly, hoping to distract himself from the thumping of his heart. He looked away as he casually said, "What are you talking about? Smitten, you're the prettiest bird in this land. In fact, if you ask me, I think you're the real attraction of this flock by a long shot." He laughed again, hoping to get rid of these damn butterflies in his stomach.

Smitten just continued to silently gaze up at him for a few seconds, before Opportunist saw the moment that Smitten's eyes darkened.

He couldn't explain it-other than it looked like Smitten's face went from soft to sharp in an instant. The usual light twinkle in his eyes were replaced with a hungry and predatory glint that honestly scared Opportunist.

Smitten's voice was low and husky as he said, "You think I don't know the truth about you?"

"What?" Opportunist whispered, all confidence and bravado being ripped away at that voice, and all he could do was helplessly stare as Smitten straightened up to his full height, taller than Opportunist by a few inches. He still stared down at him over his shoulder as he said, "You think I can't feel your heart pounding against my back?"

Before Opportunist had even a chance to try and think about how to take control of this situation, Smitten suddenly twisted around and pushed Opportunist down on the bed, pinning his wrist above his head.

"Hey! Smitten, what's gotten into you?"he fearfully asked, the intensity of Smitten's gaze sending a shiver up his spine, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Smitten's smile was somehow still as charming as ever, as he leaned down closer to Opportunist to lowly say, "You can't hide your feelings from me. I know love when I see it, and I know exactly how people react to the things they love."

He leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly as he studied Opportunist, and said in a curious manner, "You, for example, simply love it when people give you attention. When we compliment you or touch you or even look at you for a certain amount of time, I can see the desire for more in your eyes. That's something you can never hide from me."

Opportunist had no idea who he was talking to anymore. This couldn't be Smitten, could it? No, Smitten was the one who loudly declared how he was feeling no matter how early it was. Smitten was the one who insisted on speaking and spending time with everyone almost every day. Smitten was soft and non-threatening, which was why he was always Opportunist's go to bird to speak to.

But was it actually because he liked it when Smitten touched him and complimented him? It was nice to be around Smitten, but he thought that it was because it was easy to be around him.

Smitten chuckled in amusement, moving to be inches away from Opportunist's lips. "What a cute little devil you are," he whispered, before crashing his lips against his.

Opportunist gasped at the intensity of Smitten as they kissed, his mind spinning with nothing but pleasure and a need to keep chasing it-and when Smitten invaded his mouth with his tongue, Opportunist moaned.

It was only made worse when Smitten kept sprinkling in sweet words in-between the kissing. Words such as-'So pretty', 'Gorgeous', and 'Good Oppy.' It erased any mask and performance from Opportunist's mind and left him falling apart, letting a sliver of truth come out-that Opportunist longed to feel like this, to feel wanted and adored for who he was.

They broke apart, panting while still pressing their bodies impossibly closer to each other. Smitten's eyes flicked off to the side for a split second, before he moved his hands up to intertwine them with Opportunist's, and his smile looked dashing and wicked at the same time as he said,"It looks like your wings need to be preened after all."

Opportunist gulped.

#slay the princess #stories #my writing #stp voices #stp #stp opportunist #stp smitten #smittunist #voice of the smitten #voice of the opportunist #Sorry these are taking longer to get out #Oppy underestimating Smitten is also really funny to me #writing request

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