#inking still a challenge for me

[blueberry-blast]

just some doodles of my fave pastries

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Yet another ink drawing to add to my collection waaahah! Fought for my life on this one... Everything just kept going wrong!! His helmet is still so hard to draw but each time I get closer and closer!

Juuru looking much more simple in comparison...

Not bad though!!

[kunosoura]

And like why are you coming in so aggro in the tags on a sub 50 note post like the OP isn’t gonna see. On a beautiful Thursday morning too

[nonbinary-red-supergiant]

INKTOBER dump ‼️‼️

path. dodge. map.

[marvelstoriesepic]

I Would Let the World Burn

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Non-superhero!Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You attend a public Avengers event as Bucky’s girlfriend for the first time, but things spiral from nerves to chaos in a matter of seconds. And when you’re caught in the crossfire, Bucky unleashes.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: violence; injury; PTSD elements; emotional distress; explosions; mass panic; allusions to death; protective!Bucky; nobody hurts his girl; seriously, he’s a little feral here

Author’s Note: I need protective Bucky all day and all night omg. Thank you so much, my love, for this absolutely amazing request!! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The lights are everywhere.

Glinting off skyscraper windows and camera lenses, bouncing off metallic armor and too-white smiles.

The voices are everywhere. They swarm like bees - the press, the fans, the murmuring of people watching people.

The flash of the cameras is a strobe light stinging the back of your eyes. Reporters shout questions like bullets, flinging them past your ears and into your chest.

You feel your lungs shrinking in your ribcage as if they’ve decided you’ve seen enough. Felt enough. Been too much.

You’re not supposed to be here.

Not in this crowd, not in this dress, not in front of a hundred reporters and their glittering cameras. Not in the spotlight. Not on the arm of the Bucky Barnes.

You tug at the hem of your dress, fingers nervous, breath catching on a sigh you don’t release. Everyone here looks like they belong - as if they were born to walk red carpets and sip sparkling drinks under light that only blinds you. You feel like an ink smudge on a page of golden script.

It’s the first time you’re out in the public with him. The first time the press will capture who’s been speculated to be the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend.

Bucky spent the night whispering reassurances into your skin, but it seems you should have listened to his words rather than the feeling of his plump lips all over your body.

Your hand is in his, and his thumb traces slow circles against you, metal fingers warm from your skin. His other hand rests lightly on your back. He hasn’t let go of you once.

You look up at him.

And he’s already looking at you.

He looks perfect, tailored, controlled, dangerous in a way that makes people stare too long and then look away even faster.

His hair is swept back tonight, save for one defiant strand that keeps falling across his brow. You keep watching that strand as if it’s a lifeline. Like if you can count how many times it falls, maybe your nerves will shut the hell up.

You know he feels how tense you are.

He frowns, and it’s so soft it nearly breaks your heart. That Bucky Barnes can frown like that. As if you just told him you were fading into dust.

“Hey,” Bucky coos, voice soft, voice low, the world dissolving for a second into nothing but him and you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You try to nod. But you can’t lie to him. Words jam in your throat, caught somewhere between the beat of your heart and the reality of who he is and who you are not.

“I just-” you manage, but it’s a little shaky, you look around. “I feel out of place.”

Bucky tilts his head, brow still furrowed tightly. “Why?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Try to explain how it feels to be ordinary in a sea of extraordinary. How it feels to be his, but not one of them. How terrifying it is to not have armor, or training, or anything more than love for a man who could kill with his pinky finger and kindness in his eyes just for you.

Bucky steps in close, crowding the noise out with the breadth of his body, his warmth, the familiarity of his scent - cedar and cold and something quietly him. His nose brushes yours, and it’s stupid how it grounds you.

“I’d rather be anywhere else,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I’d rather be nowhere. Just me and you. On a rooftop. Under the sheets. In the woods. I don’t care. Just not here. No noise. No cameras. No Stark in a tuxedo with a martini making bad decisions.”

You laugh, and it trembles out of you.

His smile is all softness and secret promises. His eyes are glinting. “But if I have to be here - then I'm glad it’s with you.”

The way he says it - quiet, low, as if it’s something he only ever told the wind - freezes everything inside you and sets it on fire all at once.

You blink, and the fear stutters. Collapses a little. Because it’s not you and the Avengers. It’s you and Bucky.

His lips graze your ear, then your temple, taking his time. He’s not bothered at all by the cameras flashing around you, capturing this moment, capturing the Winter Soldier going soft on his girlfriend.

You want to fall into him. You want to crawl into his chest and live there.

You let out a breath. It’s just beginning to feel okay. The world quiets just for a second.

Then it explodes.

There’s a metallic whine, a rumble like thunder swallowed by stone. The ground jerks beneath your feet as though it’s trying to shake you off. Screams tear through the air. A plume of smoke mushrooms in the sky as fire roars from the far end of the pavilion. People scatter. Glass shatters. Concrete buckles.

You don’t even have time to be shocked when Bucky already reacts.

He pushes you behind him so fast your teeth snap together. He doesn’t look back. His body shields yours, metal arm braced outward, flesh hand pressing you into his back, eyes scanning for threats.

Another explosion cracks through the sky, rips through the atmosphere like an angry god. And right after, the next explosion follows, punched through the sky like a fist made of fire.

You cough, eyes watering. There’s debris. Someone’s car door skitters across the ground like a dead insect. Tony’s suit whirs to life across the square. Natasha’s already sprinting. Sam is in the air.

Bucky is moving, dragging you behind a line of armored cars, his body is coiled with tension, his expression is deadly serious.

“Stay here!” he orders. It’s his soldier voice. Cold steel and no argument. He’s never used this voice on you before.

“Bucky-”

“Y/n, stay down,” he barks sharply, and you nearly flinch. But his tone is not filled with anger. It’s filled with fear. “Do not move until I come back for you.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might break your ribs. Your head is shaking from side to side so fast, you can’t do anything. “No- Bucky-”

He cups your face, his hands stiff, his hold almost rough. He leans in. “Stay. Here,” he growls. “I can’t do this if I’m worried about you.”

His eyes tell you he already is. He will be. But he doesn’t tell you.

He waits for you to nod, although he doesn’t have the time. An almost aggressive kiss is pressed to your mouth, then to your forehead, and he is gone. Thrown into chaos, lost in the smoke and fury and shouts.

You barely register the space he leaves behind. The smoke moves like a creature through the crowd, making people disappear wholly. Somewhere nearby, there’s another explosion. The screams rise again, louder.

You crouch lower, press yourself against the cold steel of the car, try to breathe through the hammer in your chest. You want to do what he said. You try to do what he said.

But the panic moves toward you.

You don’t see where it starts. Just feel it. A shove. A push. Someone collides with your hiding place, someone is behind you and suddenly you’re on the ground. White-hot pain at your side. You fall hard enough to see stars. A sharp ache slices down your shoulder where debris must have caught you. Blood runs hot and slick beneath your dress.

Disoriented, you try to push up on trembling arms but they shake too much, and everything is spinning.

You don’t see the soldier until you turn your head and there’s a flash of metal in his hand. A knife.

“Y/n!”

It’s your name. It’s Bucky’s voice. It’s not a shout. It’s a roar. As if it was ripped out of his chest. As if he’s afraid of what he’ll find when he gets to you.

From fifty yards away, across smoke and bodies and fire, he sees the blood blooming on your sleeve. Sees your fingers twitch as you try to sit up. Sees the man with the knife coming too close.

And he is barreling through the smoke like something unholy, eyes wild, teeth clenched, hands balled to fists. The light behind his eyes just snaps.

He moves as though he’s been set free. No hesitation. No fear. No softness left in him. His face is stone, is fury, is death, is Winter Soldier. His arm gleams under the flames, a ghost of his past resurrected in defense of his present.

Bucky hits the guy with bone-crushing force, enough to send teeth skittering across pavement. A scream echoes once before it’s cut off. Another blow. Another. Fist to face. Elbow to jaw. A crunch that sounds like death and rage all rolled into one. His vibranium hand wraps around the man’s throat, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes - something ancient and broken - before Bucky picks him up and slams him against a crumbling wall. Again. And again.

It’s not strategy. It’s not mercy. It’s pure rage.

Somewhere, Steve yells his name like a warning.

Bucky doesn’t stop.

“Bucky-” you croak, blood warm down your arm. You try to sit up.

In an instant, he turns back to you, easing up on his brutal hold and the soldier crumples to the ground. Bucky’s whole body is tight with adrenaline, his breath sawing in and out as though he ran through a warzone - which he kind of did. For you. His eyes find yours and shatter.

He’s at your side in half a breath.

“Baby,” he whispers, hands on your face, on your shoulder, trembling now. “No, no, no. You weren’t supposed to be- I told you to stay-”

“I tried,” you defend weakly, dizzy. “I didn’t- I’m okay. I think. Just- grazed me, maybe-”

But he’s not hearing you. Not through the panic tearing holes in his composure. His hands flutter, unsure where to land without hurting you more. His voice drops, gravelly and hushed. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Shit, I should’ve known-”

“Hey.” You grab his wrists. “Bucky.”

He stills, but he won’t meet your eyes. Your thumb brushes the inside of his wrist. “I’m okay.”

But he’s too far in his head.

He wraps you in his arms in seconds, cradles you as if you’re made of moonlight and scripture, as if you’re hallowed and half-broken and held together by threads only he can see.

His metal hand supports your back, curved protectively around your spine. His other hand is pressing your legs into his chest.

The darkening sky is still full of smoke and sirens.

Colors smear across the sky like blood in water. Reds and blues. Shouting and static. Flashing lights and fractured ground. Somewhere nearby, someone is screaming. Somewhere farther, something explodes.

But not for him anymore. He doesn’t seem to hear anything. Doesn’t seem to listen to anything other than your breathing, your pulse.

He walks fast, but carefully. Erratic feet cut through rubble, his jaw is locked so hard, his body so rigid, he surely is in pain from holding all that tension. His eyes are storm-dark and unblinking. No one stops him. Not Steve. Not Tony. Not even the medics who see the look on his face and take a cautious step back as though maybe the devil borrowed his bones tonight.

He never trusted any random medic to look you over. It has to be someone he knows.

You whisper his name.

Soft. Breathless. Almost an apology.

And he almost drops to his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, hoarse and urgent. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You know you are. But he doesn’t.

Your fingers curl in the collar of his suit jacket. His real name - James - lives on your tongue but never quite makes it out because he’s holding you too close, and perhaps saying his name might crush him completely.

He smells like smoke and ash and steel and blood. Your temple is tucked against the curve of his neck, where his pulse thunders beneath the surface. He’s warm and shaking.

He bursts into the quinjet that brought you here like a man on fire, like a man trying to outpace grief, and he yells something sharp. He lays you down - reluctantly, tenderly, surrendering - onto a stretcher, but his hands don’t stop touching you.

He’s a storm with a purpose, and that purpose is you.

You, safe.

You, whole.

You, alive.

“Bucky,” you try to ease, blinking up at him, face pale under flickering emergency lights. “I told you, baby. It’s not that bad.” Your voice is soft. Slow.

“You were on the ground.” His voice cracks.

“I was on the ground for like two seconds-”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It stopped, baby. Okay? There’s no fresh blood.” You are close to whispering.

Bucky doesn’t seem eased, though. He sits beside you. Big body bent in half, elbows on knees, one trembling hand reaching to gently - so, so gently - brush your hair from your forehead.

And then he says it.

“I would’ve burned the whole goddamn city to get to you.” Quiet. Like a vow. Like a confession. Like faith. Like a truth, he doesn’t know how to carry anymore. “I would’ve torn down buildings with my bare hands if I didn’t see your breathing. I don’t care who saw. I don’t care what they think-” his voice breaks, his breaths spill all over his words. “I can’t be okay without you.”

You stare up at him. Your throat is tight, eyes are stinging. Because he doesn’t say things like that. Not often. Not out loud. You see it in his eyes every day, in the way he looks at you, in the way he treats you. But it’s something else entirely to hear him form those words and let his tongue roll them out.

He presses his forehead to yours. His breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes are closed. His hand cups the back of your head.

He’s holding you so close to him, as if he’s never intending to let go ever again.

[aakeysmash]

Tattooartist!Sukuna who is so used to being ogled by girls that he’s on the verge of putting his 2 weeks’ notice in. He knows he’s hot, muscular, breathtaking even (like some girl said while sitting on the studio chair and trying to get in his pants), but people piss him off, both men and women. He wishes he could just ink them up and never see them again.

And when he sees you staring at him from across the room he’s sure you’re about to say the same shit every other girl has said in the past three years he worked at the studio. But he’s utterly surprised when, instead, you turn around and close the door behind you.

He waits for you to come back, because you do have a tattoo appointment, but you don’t. That’s why he presses his ear against his door to listen to you trying to reschedule your appointment when there’s another tattoo artist instead.

He gets out and leans on the door, making himself visible, and when the girl at the reception asks you why you want to reschedule you look at him while saying “I just don’t think he’s professional enough to make what I’m looking for.”

And now you’re pissing him off, because he’s good at what he does and he knows it. So he comes closer to you, trying to intimidate you with his height, and slowly challenges you saying how he will get your stencil done for free. If you don’t like it he will personally pay for your tattoo, no matter the price. You accept the challenge, tattoos are super expensive these days, what do you really have to lose?

And that’s how you find yourself in his bedroom getting pounded from the back, your fresh tattoo on your spinal column.

“Thought you said I wasn’t professional enough, mh baby?” He whispers in your ear. “Looks like you enjoyed the tattoo, yeah?”

Between moans you manage to slightly turn around and kiss him on the lips. While you’re still close to his face you smirk.

“Looks like you’re enjoying it more than me.”

You feel his dick jump at your provocative tone, and he picks up his pace while standing back up. He slaps your ass, hard, earning himself a squeal before feeling your pussy cream on his dick.

“Fuck yes I do.”

[ducksido]

I was reading some of your new writings, and at the end of the one where we tickle Jade, an idea came to me: What if we accidentally do or say something that means nothing romantic in our world, but in our boys' world it does? Like, we do something like a touch or give a gift to the Octatrio that, among Octavians (don’t ask why I call them that—I read it in a fic and liked it), is actually a declaration that we want to be their partner! If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love for it to include the characters from Diasomnia, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle.

(I love that term)

🪸 Octavinelle 🪸

Azul You hand Azul a new ink pen you'd spotted in Sam's shop, saying, "It just looked like something you'd like." Azul freezes. "You…you mean to present me with this?" "Yeah? Just a gift." He clutches the pen like it's a wedding ring. "In Octavian culture, such gifts signify intent to… to mate for life." "WHAT." Azul has turned scarlet. He’s already thinking of what dish to serve at your joining ceremony. You're frantically Googling Octomer customs.

Jade You're laughing after lunch, mid-yawn, and Jade casually glances over—then goes completely still. "Ah… you've opened your mouth to me. Intentionally?" You blink. "I was yawning." "In my culture, revealing one’s throat and inner mouth is an ancient courtship display of vulnerability and trust." You choke on air. "What?!" His smile turns sharp. "I humbly accept your invitation." Now he's following you everywhere, whispering about how honored he is. You’re reconsidering yawning ever again.

Floyd "Shrimpy just did it!" Floyd cheers, twirling you. "Did what—?!" "You opened your mouth! That means you're comfy enough to let me near your gills and teeth. That’s like, soulmate stuff back home." You're dying inside. "Floyd, I was sneezing." "Too late~" He nuzzles into your neck. "You’re mine now~" The eel won’t stop bragging to everyone in the dorm that 'his' Shrimpy picked him.

🦁 Savanaclaw 🦁

Leona In a playful spar, you nip his arm—lightly, barely a scrape. Leona stares. You blink. "...Did you just bite me?" "Uh, yeah. You do it all the time to tease me!" Silence. His tail swishes. "...You just challenged every potential mate and claimed me." You: 🧍 He: 😼 "Hope you're ready. ‘Cause I bite harder." You now have a smug lionman curled in your lap all day.

Ruggie You hand Ruggie a fluffy scone and pat the seat next to you. "Aww, thanks, Yuu!" He plops down, happy as a clam—until he realizes you're watching him eat with fond eyes. "You… you gave me food and didn’t expect anything back? And you’re letting me sit this close?" You nod. Ruggie flushes to his ears. "Yuu… that’s... that’s like... a wedding proposal where I’m from." You: "...I just thought you were hungry!" He's already planning what herbs go into the stew at your desert wedding.

Jack You swipe a thumb over Jack's fur, flattening an unruly tuft before stepping back to spar. He stares at you like you just said “I love you.” "Did… did you just groom me?" "I fixed your cowlick, yeah." His ears twitch. "In wolf clans, grooming is reserved for bonded mates." You freeze mid-stretch. "Do you… want to bond?" he asks. You're not sure if you’re blushing or combusting.

🐉 Diasomnia 🐉

Malleus You gift Malleus a pressed flower you found in Ramshackle's backyard. "A flower for me?" he breathes. "This…this is sacred." "Huh?" "In dragon fae traditions, this is an age-old rite. A gift of natural beauty symbolizes a binding courtship vow." "...It’s from the ground." He’s already holding it like it’s your engagement ring. "May I begin the preparation for our joining ritual?" "HUH?!"

Lilia You adjust Lilia’s collar absentmindedly while chatting. His eyes widen slightly. “That’s…intimate.” "Huh?" "Bat fae reserve outfit-touching for their beloveds. Especially collars. You're practically declaring you want to nest with me." You: “I WAS FIXING YOUR TIE.” “Too late, my love~ You’ve wooed me.” He’s already texting Silver that he now has a mother.

Sebek You tap Sebek's shoulder to guide him through a crowd, hand lightly grazing his elbow. He flinches like electrocuted. "Y-you touched me—gently. Deliberately." "Yes? You were about to walk into a wall?" He goes full red. "Among crocodilian fae, such soft contact is akin to…mating displays." You sigh. "I was helping you not die." He now escorts you like a knight, declaring your name as “My Beloved.”

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧・l.m

—there were two things in the world that challenged your intellectual ability one: AP US History and two: lee minho. what are you going to do when he catches you cheating, and grabs your thigh, forcing you to give him the answers too.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・minho x reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・academic rivals to lovers, sexual tension // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.5k // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・thigh touching, squeezing, and kissing, very slight bruising, cheating on tests, slight language, he gets on his knees, this is lowkey freaky, no actually Minho gets on his knees and kisses your thigh.

𝐚/𝐧・guys i'm kinda shy about this bc it was not supposed to be this freaky, but I had this thought like four months ago and it just kind of...unraveled 🙈 idk how I feel about this I like the idea of it but I feel like it flows weird idk might just be a me problem plus I needed to get it out of my drafts so 😗

If you really think about it—it isn't your fault that the curriculum was impossible to learn, the school board was practically begging you to cheat.

Besides, the whole testing system was pointless anyway. You couldn’t accurately quantify knowledge with a few bubbled answers. And if your teacher hadn’t made this test 40% of your grade, you might’ve actually been able to understand. But no— the stress alone had made sure of that.

For a second, you naively convince yourself you actually have a chance. Then you read the first question—and realize you're royally fucked.

It isn’t just one thing; no, the universe spreads a thick layer of icing all over your 'I’m fucked' cake, because not only is the test 100 questions of pure agony, but you’re sitting next to none other than Lee Minho—Yale's wet dream and your life long rival.

He shifts beside you, bubbling in the answers with infuriating ease. It was enraging—how calm he was, how even though his eyes were trained on the paper in front of him, it still felt like he was making calculated moves against you.

You grind your teeth, reading and rereading the questions until you go cross-eyed. It just didn't make sense. Why were there so many dates? Who were all these people? Why couldn't you seem to remember anything? The ink on your thigh screams at you, itching to pull up your skirt and color all the correct answers.

It was stupid, completely idiotic to even consider giving in to the temptation, but you had no other choice. You couldn't fail this test. You steal a glance at Minho, making sure he’s still peacefully, obnoxiously distracted with being perfect, before sliding your skirt up to reveal the answer key you wrote last night. With a deep breath, you fill in the correct answers, stealing paranoid glances at the teacher every other question.

You're almost done. Just a few more. But then—a tingle runs down your spine.

You could practically taste the smirk on his face the minute his gaze lands on your thighs. You stiffen, holding your breath as if that might magically make you disappear. Unfortunately, your efforts are to no avail.

Minho must have been waiting for a moment like this for years—a classic got'ya moment. It was perfect, practically presented to him on a silver platter. You clench your eyelids and except the worst, for him to stand up and announce to the class your humiliating defeat, to strut up to the teacher and flush your entire life away.

And yet, the moment passes by. His gaze never wavers, instead it gets heavier—needier, fire licking up your spine. You can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your cheek as he leans in—so close, too close.

"Is that what I think it is?" That cocky little bend in his lips grows as he watches you fumble to yank the skirt back down, shooting him a nasty side-eye.

"No," you say steadily—almost convincing yourself.

"No?" His voice is low, laced with amusement, but there's something else there, something strained. "Then let me see."

"No." You scoff, pulling your leg away from him. He presses his tongue against his cheek, both frustrated and annoyed.

"So fuckin’ stubborn." His voice drops, and suddenly, the space between you vanishes. His fingers capture your thigh, prying them apart with a hot, deliberate pressure. Your breath hitches—the heat of his palm seeping into your flesh, spreading up, up, up.

You want to gasp, to smack his hand away, and scream bloody murder; but the other part of you, the other small microscopic part of you relishes in his touch—leaving you dizzy and breathless.

His hand never moves, even as he copies the answers down—his fingers a steady pressure against your soft flesh. You hate the way your pulse betrays you, hammering against your ribs like thunder.

You twitch—just enough for him to notice, just enough for him to squeeze hard. You fight not to gasp, your stomach twisting with something you don’t dare name. He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t have to. You feel it.

Don’t you dare move.

You don't breathe—not until he's already finished the work, releasing your thigh and walking up to the teacher; sliding his test into the professor's hands with an infuriatingly perfect smile. The teacher returns his smile ten times brighter, both pleased and impressed, bowing politely to dismiss him back.

It takes five seconds before your brain catches up with your body, jaw dropping in utter disbelief—Minho was the first one to turn in his test, making him the first to get a perfect score, therefore putting him slightly above your soon-to-be perfect score—which means he beat you.

"What the hell was that?" you spit. Minho doesn’t spare you a glance as he slips back into his seat, swiveling around with a smirk on his face and his tongue in his cheek.

"What, 'that,' are we talking about? My undeniable victory, or how slow this class is?" Minho muses, throwing his feet onto the desk, and tipping his chair back as if the whole scheme was a piece of cake. You were ready to punch him square in his freakishly perfect jaw.

"You are unbelievable—" You don’t get to finish your scornful sentence before the bell rings. The class erupts from their seats, filing to the front. There was so much you wanted to do, but you couldn’t—your hands were tied, tight, painfully behind your back. So instead, you do the only thing you can: turn in that stupid test.

When you get back to your desk, you find Minho leaning against his, a cocky smirk still playing on his pretty pink lips.

"Oh, you're just loving this, aren't you?" you spit venomously, stuffing supplies back into your bag with a little extra vigor. Minho cocks his head, standing up a little straighter. "Loving beating you? Yeah, you could say that."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "You couldn’t have done it without the answers I wrote on my thigh." At the mention of your thigh, Minho’s gaze tilts downward. His entire demeanor transforms—once cocky and proud, now washed away in an instant—something softer taking its place, something you couldn’t quite place.

Gently, disarmingly, Minho brings his palm to your waist, guiding you to sit on one of the desks behind you. "What—" you begin, but he beats you to it, asking, "Did I do this?" Confused, you look down at the mark in question—darkened fingerprints ghosting over your skin where his fingers had pressed a little too hard.

You swallow. "I didn't notice it."

"Does it hurt?" he frowns, gingerly brushing the bruise forming on your thigh. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, almost as if he's actually concerned about your well-being.

"Yeah, kind of," you wince, but you don't move from his soft touch. His lips press into a thin line, the slight furrow of his brows deepening with guilt.

"What, you wanna kiss it, make it feel better?" you joke, a weak attempt to ease the tension. He pauses for a moment, then, in one swift motion, drops to his knees before you.

You gasp, a quick, trembling breath that melts the words in your throat. His eyes stay locked on yours, the weight of his gaze heavy as he inches closer, mouth nearing your thigh. You hold your breath, heart hammering against your ribs. He takes his time—two agonizing seconds stretching into hours. His breath is hot against your skin, before his lips finally brush the bruise, leaving a gentle kiss in its wake.

"There, all better," he says, standing back up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, nonchalantly. He doesn't say another word, simply waltzing out the door like he didn't just leave you a spaghetti noodle, all slippery thoughts and wobbly limbs.

You stand there, jaw in the center of the earth, gripping the edge of the desk so hard it threatened to crack. The class had filed out ages ago, leaving you to regather your thoughts in sweet silence.

You still feel his lips, hot and gentle, against the flesh of your thigh—reliving the moment over and over and over again. You couldn't bear to look at him, weeks into the future, still dizzy and disoriented, struggling to focus with him so close beside you. Minho knew, no matter how much you hated that thought. Minho knew, he saw how your grades started slipping, how slowly your comebacks started getting shorter, sweeter, a little bit more flirtatious.

That was his plan the entire time; because, even on his knees—Minho held all the pieces.

cookie owns this. thank you.

RAAAA its been a hot minute since I've posted something but I hope you liked this (if you did seriously consider reblogging with tags it helps my motivation and self-esteem so so soooo much.

[jjjjisun]

Sunday Morning

NJZ Danielle X AESPA Karina X Male OC | 1945 words

TW: Incest

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Author's note: Happy Karina and Danielle day!

—

A violent storm had descended upon the night, the thunder growling like a waking beast and lightning carving veins of light into the ink-black sky. The old mansion rattled, its timbers creaking as if alive, and the rain lashed against the windows with the fervor of a jilted lover. In the expansive master bedroom, dominated by a large four-poster bed, a naked man lay awake, his heart pounding in sync with the storm's rhythm.

Karina, his daughter, was the first to sneak in, her petite body hugging the shadows. Her eyes, fierce and bold, met his in the darkness. She was a wild thing, untamed and free, her dark hair cascading down her back, the sheet clutched loosely in her hand. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the storm's fury.

He shook his head, pulling the sheet higher up his chest, a futile attempt at modesty. "You?" he replied, his voice hoarse with sleep and something else he dared not name.

She smirked, tossing her hair back. "Never could sleep through a storm. Not without…" she paused, her eyes glinting wickedly, "company."

Before he could respond, Danielle, his other daughter, padded in, her lithe form accentuated by the faint glow of the lightning. She was the yin to Karina's yang, her fair hair contrasting with her sister's darkness. "What are you two doing?" she asked, her eyes flicking between the two.

"Just talking about the storm," Karina said, her smirk growing wider. "Wasn't it you who used to love stormy nights?"

Danielle's cheeks flushed, but her eyes burned with a familiar challenge. She dropped her sheet, standing before them nude and unafraid. "I still do," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. And then, with a playful laugh, she lunged, aiming for Karina, the sheet they had both been clinging to forgotten.

The room filled with laughter, and soon, they were a tangle of limbs, their bodies sliding and pressing against each other, their tickling fingers exploring familiar terrain. The storm outside seemed to mimic their play, the rain intensifying, the thunder rumbling like their own laughter.

He watched, frozen, as their playfulness turned sensuous. Their touches lingered, their eyes locked, their breaths hitching in sync. He felt a familiar stirring, a response he couldn't suppress or control. He was their father, but they were his weakness, his downfall. He knew he should stop them and reclaim his self-control, but he was rooted to the spot, his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out the storm.

Karina looked up, her eyes meeting his, her fingers dancing on Danielle's hip. "Join us, Dad," she purred, her voice sultry, inviting. "The storm doesn't seem so frightening with us together, does it?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between them, the thunder outside escaping without a peep in the face of the tsunami of want crashing through him. He knew he shouldn't cross this line, but in that moment, bathed in the storm's light, he couldn't find the strength to resist. He let the sheet fall, revealing his arousal, and surrendered to the storm within.

The thunder's grumble had softened to a murmur, and the rain was now a rhythmic patter against the windowpanes as the storm reached a gentle crescendo. The room's illumination oscillated with the passing Lightning, caressing the three figures in the large bed. The tension was thick and palpable, holding them in a suspended state of anticipation.

Karina's hand, previously dancing on Danielle's hip, now slid down, her fingers parting Danielle's thighs with tender authority. Danielle's breath hitched, her lips parting on a soft gasp. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip, and her eyes flicked from Karina's fingers to her father's face. "Dad," she whispered, "tell me you want this as much as we do."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked with Danielle's. He could feel his arousal throbbing in response to their Touch, their words. He was teetering on the edge of a precipice, one he had never dared to approach before. But the sight of them, their bodies flushed, their breaths coming in short pants, their eyes filled with hunger and want, was his undoing. "I do," he admitted, his voice raw and honest. "God help me, I do."

Karina's fingers found Danielle's center, stroking, exploring. Danielle's hips moved in rhythm with her sister's touch, her moans filling the room. His gaze flicked between them, his pulse pounding in his ears. He reached out, his fingers tangling in Karina's hair, pulling her in for a kiss. Their lips met, their tongues sliding against each other, igniting a fire that raged through his veins.

Danielle's fingers wrapped around his cock, her touch tentative yet sure. He groaned into Karina's mouth, his hips moving in sync with her sister's touch. He felt freefalling, his body alive with sensations he had long suppressed. He broke the kiss, his gaze finding Danielle's. "Come here," he growled, pulling her to him.

She straddled him, her warmth pressing against him. He captured her mouth, his hands roaming her body, relearning the curves he had tried so hard to forget. He hears. Karina's soft laughter, and then her touch was there, her fingers joining Danielle's in stroking him, her lips tracing patterns on his chest.

Danielle reached between them, positioning him at her entrance. She slid down, a slow, torturous inch at a time, her eyes locked with his. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his breath coming in short gasps. When she had taken all of him, she began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous rhythm.

Karina's hands were on Danielle's breasts, her fingers pinching and rolling the nipples. Danielle's breath hitched, her movements becoming more frantic. He felt Karina's touch on him, her fingers stroking the base of his cock where it disappeared inside Danielle. His grip on Danielle's hips tightened, his thrusts meeting her movements.

Danielle leaned back, her hands settling on Karina's shoulders. Karina's lips found Danielle's nipple, her tongue flicking against the hardened peak. Danielle's moans filled the room, her head thrown back, her hair cascading down her back. He could feel her tightening around him, her body tensing in preparation for release.

He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed in counterpoint to her movements, his touch firm and steady. Danielle's body bowed, her release pulsing through her, her inner muscles-clenching around him.

He couldn't hold back any longer. With a groan, he came, his body shuddering with the force of his release. Danielle collapsed against him, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Karina's hands stroked his chest, her touch gentle and soothing.

As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Danielle lifted her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Dad," she whispered, "I don't just want you to fuck us. I want you to breed us."

Karina nodded, her fingers twining with Danielle's. "We want to carry your child, Dad."

He stared at them, his mind racing. He had crossed this line, which he knew he couldn't uncross. But at that moment, looking at them, their bodies flushed, their eyes filled with love and desire, he knew he didn't want to. He took their hands, his fingers intertwining with theirs. "Then let's ride out the storm together," he said, his voice filled with determination. And with that, he sealed their fates, binding them together in a way that was primal, intense, and undeniably erotic.

The first light of dawn broke through the storm clouds, casting a soft glow over the three spent bodies entwined in the bed. The room was filled with the symphony of their breaths, slowly evening out, and the faint patter of rain against the windows. He was the first to stir, his fingers tracing patterns on their arms as he lay between them.

"Morning," Karina mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep. She nuzzled into his chest, her hand moving to cover his.

Danielle stirred as well, her fingers finding his waist. "Morning, Dad," she said, her voice soft and content. She rubbed her face against his shoulder, a small smile on her lips.

He looked down at them, his heart swelling with mixed emotions. He cupped their faces, his thumbs stroking their cheeks. "Are you both sure about this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "About what we did, what we want?"

Karina's breakfast pushes up, her breasts pressed against his chest. "Oh, we're sure," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Aren't we, Dani?"

Danielle nodded, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Very sure," she confirmed. "I think it's time we made it official." She rolled on top of him, her hands pushing his thighs apart. She bent down, her breath hot on his cock as she took him into her mouth.

He groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair. She sucked him, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand pumping the base. He felt himself hardening, his body responding to her touch. He looked down at her, her fair hair cascading around his lap, and then caught Karina's gaze, her dark eyes filled with hunger as she watched them.

Karina joined in, her hands stroking his chest, her fingers pinching his nipples. He moaned, his hips bucking slightly. Karina switched her sister on sucking his manhood and took him deeper, her throat convulsing around him. He felt the pressure building, his balls tightening.

"Stop," he gasped, pushing Karina away. She sat back, her lips glistening, her eyes hungry. "I want to come inside you," he said, his voice raw. He reached for her, pulling her up. She straddled him, positioning herself over his cock.

But she didn't lower herself onto him. Instead, she leaned back, her hands on Dani’s thighs. "We have other plans for that, Dad," she said, her voice teasing. She looked at her sister, a silent conversation passing between them. Danielle nodded, a seductive smile on her lips.

Karina got on her knees, her massive breasts swaying. "Noona Karina wants you to come inside her too, Dad," she said, her fingers playing with her nipples. "But first, she wants to show you how much she's enjoyed your attention." Karina pushed her monster breasts together, a valley of soft, pale flesh between them.

He groaned, his gaze locked on the sight. Danielle took his cock, positioning it between her sister's breasts. Karina began to move, her hips rolling, her tits on either side of his cock, sliding up and down. He watched, mesmerized, as his daughter used her sister's breasts to pleasure him.

He reached out, his fingers finding Danielle’s clit. She moaned, her movements becoming more frantic. He felt his release building, his balls tightening. Danielle's body tensed, her orgasm ripping through her.

"Come on my tits, Dad," Karina whispered, her eyes locked with his. "Mark me. Make me yours."

He groaned, his body tensing as he came between Karina’s breasts. Danielle collapsed against Karina, their bodies sticky with sweat and his release. They all looked down, a sense of satisfaction filling the room.

Karina laughed, her fingers wiping his cum off her skin. "Looks like we've made a mess, sis," she said, turning to Dani. She grinned, her hand joining hers in cleaning their skin.

As they got up to clean off properly, he watched them, a sense of peace washing over him. He still had his worries and doubts, but at that moment, looking at them, their bodies glistening, their smiles soft, he knew he wouldn't trade this for anything. He was ready to face whatever came next and cross whatever lines they needed to.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Paper Rings

Lee Seokmin (DK) x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: food mention.

[Kindergarten Teachers AU] Fearing that their two favourite teachers might break up, the kids decide to take your romance into their own tiny hands.

Big thank you to my beloved @haoboutyou for giving me the idea and helping me defeat writer's block (even if just for a day)! idk what I'd do without you, girl

“You know what? Fine! Have it your way!”

The car door was slammed closed with far too much force. A dog froze in the middle of passing by, eyeing you two with caution before continuing on his morning walk with his elderly owner mumbling words of concern under her breath.

“Well, have a good day.” Seokmin sighed and held the gate open for you, ever the gentleman even when he was annoyed and upset. “Please don’t skip lunch today.”

Eyes narrowed into slits, you turned on your heel to glare at him. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

The sound he let out was something of a groan mixed into a wail of despair. “I didn’t mean it like that, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and strolled past him with purpose. There was not a single glance spared his way until you were both well inside the building, surrounded by curious little children who looked like they had heard your argument just fine. One of them looked positively ready to start crying at the sight of you.

Sitting at your desk, you sighed. “What is it, kids?”

“Are you and Mister Minnie breaking up?” a wavering little voice dared to ask. Various noises of protest filled the room before you could even take a breath to prepare to answer the question. 

Sparing a quick look at your boyfriend, who was organising the toy shelves and deep in a conversation with one of the more shy kids, you shook your head. “No, we’re not.”

The children let out a collective breath of relief. Some high-fived and cheered in joy. A bitter part of you thought they might just be more invested in your relationship than your boyfriend was. You tried to wave the thought away as fast as it came.

“Because they’re already broken up!” a little boy suddenly declared, standing up and pointing fingers as if he’d been personally betrayed. He was all accusations and none of the ability to listen. You suspected he’d make a great – or at least popular – politician one day. 

“We are not,” you argued with all the patience only a kindergarten teacher could possibly muster. “We’re just… having a bad day.”

To your surprise and joy, no more questions were asked. Only curious glances remained. Still you thought it was the end of it. Another crisis averted, another day saved.

Behind your back, the kids exchanged looks of mischief and worry – they had a plan brewing.

Little Misoo toiled away at her desk, hands covered in charcoal smudges and ink. She had tried a big girl pen for the first time, having wanted to emphasise the seriousness of the situation, but quickly realised it was harder to wield than it looked, and so she had resorted back to her trusty coloured pencils to write the invitations. She had just ten more to go.

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Jaemin finally voiced his concerns between clumsily peeling and sticking heart-shaped stickers on every piece of paper. “Everybody already knows. Why do they need invitations?”

Misoo gave him a scathing look. “You can’t have a wedding without invitations! Everybody knows that!”

Jaemin pouted. “Then should we make invitations for Mister Minnie and Miss (Y/n) as well?”

“No.” She looked at him like he’d just suggested unicorns and dragons could be best friends (they obviously couldn’t because all unicorns are vegans and dragons famously hate vegans). “They’re the bride and the groom! They don’t need invitations!”

“But do they even know they’re getting married?” 

“They will.” Misoo suspected she had the most patience any woman had ever possessed. She glanced towards the ceiling as if to challenge god for putting her in this situation and then gave Jaemin another glare. “Stop asking stupid questions and get back to work.”

A mysterious chocolate bar had found its way onto your desk. Even more mysteriously it was your favourite brand and flavour. Your boyfriend sat in a circle with the kids, reading their pre-nap fairytale, and snuck glances at you as if he was expecting something. 

You fought back a smile and grabbed a sticky note. 

When he returned to his seat after getting the kids to sleep, he found the pink piece of paper stuck on his laptop. On it, a little heart and two words: ‘You’re forgiven.’ He almost screamed of joy before remembering that he had to be quiet. He wore a dumb lovestruck smile for the rest of the hour.

Mingyu knew something was wrong the moment the kids stepped into the art room. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it but he just knew. And if the wide-eyed look Minghao gave him was anything to go by, he felt it too. 

It was only about 10 minutes in that he realised the problem: the kids were moving like they had a purpose. This was rare. This never happened on free art Fridays – usually the kids would spend the first twenty minutes trying to come up with an idea to execute. Today it took them less than twenty seconds.

Cautiously, he approached tiny Sohyun and Yunho – the first sharpening pencils at a furious pace and the other sorting through the unsharpened ones under her command. It was abundantly clear that Sohyun was working the boy like it was the military. One had to admire her leadership abilities, even if they were a little rough and loud around the edges. 

“So what’s today’s project?” he asked, trying his best not to wince when the pencil’s tip snapped in the sharpener.

Sohyun sighed in frustration before skillfully removing the graphite from between the blades and restarting the sharpening process. “Pencil confetti.”

Mingyu blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Pencil. Confetti.” She repeated it slowly as if fearing he was dumb and wouldn’t get it otherwise. 

He tried not to take offense. “For…?”

“For the wedding,” she explained like it was obvious before gasping and turning to Misoo. “You need to give him an invitation!”

The other girl facepalmed theatrically before rushing over to him with a surprisingly neatly folded paper card. Before he could ask her about it, she was rushing to the other side of the classroom to hand an identical one to Minghao. 

‘INVITAISION’ it read in big bold multicolour letters, a large pink heart-shaped sticker sitting right under the word. 

Mingyu opened the card and his jaw just about dropped (granted, it took him about two minutes to decipher the writing and make sense of it; he couldn’t complain because he hadn’t expected any kindergarten kids to know how to write anything at all). 

“Seokmin and (Y/n) are getting married?!” He made eye contact with Minghao who gave him an equally shocked look. 

“We’re throwing them a marriage!” Hyesoo declared happily and held out a little string tied into a circle. “I’m making rings!”

Mingyu fought a smile. “So, pencil confetti and string rings?”

“We wanted to make flower rings but it’s too early to go outside yet,” Jaemin informed him with a pout. 

“And flower confetti,” Sohyun sighed and continued working the pencil sharpener like it was her day job and she was getting paid per shaving.

“... Want me to get you guys some real flowers?” Mingyu asked after a moment of thought. It wasn’t every day that the kids planned a wedding, after all. 

The kids’ faces lit up with joy like little Christmas trees. If he hadn’t wanted to do this, he would’ve felt compelled now. 

“And we could make them paper rings,” Minghao suggested with a little smile. “They would last longer than flowers.”

The kids screamed in excitement.

You leaned closer to your boyfriend, eyeing the kids suspiciously as you did so. “They’re being weird.”

Too busy to even look up —Seokmin was neck-deep in his emails—, he hummed. “Weird how?”

“Like … quiet weird.”

His attention was fully on you now. “Oh, that’s no good.”

“Look at them!” you whispered and nodded towards where the kids were supposed to be playing on the carpet. 

Instead of messing around with little trucks and dolls and teddy bears, they were braiding ribbons into each others’ hair and handing out cards and whispering secrets. You felt like you’d entered an alternate dimension. 

Seokmin raised a single brow and nodded. “Okay, this is scary.”

“Should we—” you hesitated, “—do something?”

He shrugged. “But what if we do something and they get noisy and crazy again?”

“Good point.”

The big hour was growing nearer. The kids were buzzing with excitement, ready to see their plan in action. In half an hour, it would be time to go outside to play games and throw the biggest party of their lives. 

“Okay, do we have everything?” Minsoo asked, standing in the middle of the circle on the carpet. She glanced towards the teachers’ desks – the married-couple-to-be were still unaware of their plans and working on something on their computer. She was happy with the sight, for now, and turned back to her co-conspirators. “Invitations?”

“All given out,” Jaemin replied.

“Confetti?”

“Pencil or rose petal?” Sohyun wondered. She received no answer. “Well, I have both.”

“Perfect,” Minsoo approved and continued checking her mental wedding list. “Rings?”

Bomin – universally recognised as the resident expert in paper crafts – held two rings out on his palm. The other kids made noises of approval. 

“Music?” 

Eunji nodded and hummed in confirmation. She was the only kid in the group to have a phone, even if it did only let her call her mom, listen to about fifteen songs and play Candy Crush. By all accounts, she was the coolest kid in town.

“Priest?” 

Silence. The kids turned to look at Yunho who let out a whine and slumped backwards until he was lying on the ground. “Why do I have to be the priest?”

“Because it’s a boring people job,” Sohyun told him with utter seriousness and all he could do was sigh in defeat.

Mina held up her hand and asked, “Shouldn’t we get Miss (Y/n) a wedding dress?”

“No, because she’s already pretty,” was the general consensus. 

Minsoo looked at her friends, her companions, her co-conspirators, her little minions. She nodded in approval. “People, we have a wedding to do.”

“Kids, don’t wander too far off,” you reminded them gently as they rushed outside in a single file. Somehow it felt like they were even more enthusiastic about playing outside than usual. 

Odd, you thought and pushed the thought out of your head. It had, after all, been an overall strange day. Then again, the weather was lovely and you suspected you would’ve been similarly excited if you were in their shoes. 

Still, it was weird that they were all heading in the same direction as if led by an invisible tour guide.

Seokmin nudged your side. “You’re right. They are being weird today.”

“Right?” Your brows furrowed. “What is up with them?”

“You know, I think they might have heard our fight this morning.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Honey, they asked me if we were breaking up as soon as I got to the room. I am sure they heard us.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re so weird,” he concluded with a click of his tongue before turning to you. “I’m glad you forgave me though. I’m sorry for being so dumb.”

A sigh forced its way out of your body. “You’re not dumb. You’re just … less hesitant than me.” Your fingers brushed against yours. “You know I want a future with you, I just— It hasn’t been all that long.”

“It’s been two years and eight months,” he supplied with a quiet chuckle but there was no malice behind those words. He leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “But who’s counting? Not me.”

“Right,” you deadpanned and jabbed him in the ribs with all the force of a bumblebee crashing into a human body. Your fingers wrapped around his and gave them a squeeze. “Just give me some time, okay? Soon, but not yet.”

“Soon, but not yet,” he parroted with a smile that said he was more than willing to wait.

The padding of feet pulled you out of the moment. In front of you stood Jaemin, hands politely behind his back, cheeks flushed red from the spring chill. He cleared his throat. 

“You need to come with me,” he declared and didn’t bother to wait for an answer before heading right back where he came from.

You shared a look with your boyfriend. “Did he mean the both of us?”

“I think so,” he said and shrugged before following after the boy. You sighed and did the same. 

The world came to a standstill for just a moment when you reached the old tree in the middle of the yard. It seemed that all of the kids had gathered exactly there, forming two neat groups with a little path between them leading to Yunho wearing glasses that were certainly not his own and a top hat. Mingyu and Minghao stood on either side of him with wide mischievous grins, in on a scheme that had clearly been created under your nose without you ever suspecting a thing. 

“What is this?” you asked no one in particular. 

“Your wedding!” Minsoo declared as Jaemin all but dragged your boyfriend to the other end of the makeshift path. 

Seokmin wore a puzzled smile as Mingyu started dusting his jacket and fixing his hair like a fuzzy mother. “Our what?”

“Wedding,” the kids repeated in unison like it was the most obvious thing. When you still stared at them with nothing but confusion in your eyes, they let out a collection of little sighs. 

Sohyun called out, “You’re getting married!”

“We are?” 

“Yes!” 

“Why?” Seokmin wondered while dodging Mingyu’s attempts to straighten his collar. “How come?”

“Because you had a fight and then Miss (Y/n) said you two were having a bad day,” Minsoo explained to you like you two were the five-year-old ones and they were the much more experienced adults. “And my mom always says she was the happiest on her wedding day, so now you are getting married so your day can be happy too.”

No one could argue with logic. You admitted defeat and let the girls adjust your clothes and put a little flower into your hair.

When they were done, like the woman on a mission that she was, Minsoo handed you a single red rose – a real one, you noted in astonishment – and held out her hand for you to take. Hesitantly, you did as expected. 

The moment your fingers touched hers, you almost burst out laughing when you heard the beginning notes of ‘Love Is an Open Door’. 

With a proud grin on her face, she led you down the aisle towards the old tree – towards your boyfriend. You really did start laughing when the kids began throwing flower petals onto your path. 

“You guys put a lot of thought into this, huh?” you asked.

She only smiled and led you to the make-shift altar made of an old tree log. You stood next to Seokmin who offered you a matching amused smile and took your hand from hers, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“We’re getting married,” he whispered as if he couldn’t believe it.

Frankly, you couldn’t either. Especially when just this morning you had been arguing over this very thing. Funny how the universe works, you thought and stepped closer to his side. “We’re getting married.”

“Ladies and gentlemans,” Yunho began in a faux-official tone as soon as the song ended, holding a notebook up like he could read, “we are here to marry Miss (Y/n) and Mister Minnie. Does anybody object?”

Silence filled the yard. You glanced back to find the kids giving each other glares as if to dare the other to make even a squeak. One could rest assured violence would erupt if the smallest sound was heard. 

Yunho seemed to breathe out in relief before continuing, “Do you, Mister Minnie, take Miss (Y/n) as your wife?”

“I do,” Seokmin told him, not even bothering to fight his giggles. 

“Stop laughing! This is a serious matter!” Sohyun scolded him from the first row. 

Seokmin schooled his expression and cleared his throat, standing up straighter as if he was a mere soldier that had just received an order from his commanding officer. With all the seriousness he could muster, he repeated, “I do.”

“Good,” Yunho approved and turned to you. “Do you, Miss (Y/n), take Mister Minnie as your husband?”

You nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Perfect! Then I announce you–”

“The vows! Don’t forget the vows!” Bomin called out from the crowd.

Jaemin gasped. “And the rings!”

Yunho seemed a little overwhelmed by the demands of the many but quickly gathered himself. “Right. Mister Minnie, do you have any vows?”

Seokmin’s lips twitched. “Sure.”

“You do?” you gasped and turned to him. “Well, come on then.”

“Do you not have vows for me then?” He pressed his free hand to his chest, feigning a wound. 

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realise I would be getting married today, so…”

“Then you’d better think quick because these kids are ruthless,” Mingyu leaned over to tell you.

Seokmin chuckled and cleared his throat once more. He took your other hand in his as well. “My (Y/n), my beloved, my moon, my stars, my sunshine–”

“This was a mistake,” you heard one of the kids mumble in the crowd, clearly disgusted by the amount of honorifics your boyfriend had decided to bestow upon you. Maybe she wasn’t the romantic type. 

“–I love you and I adore you. I didn’t expect to marry you today but, well, here we are, getting married, today, right here. They say that if you find the one you love, you feel like you can live forever. I am glad you’ve chosen me to spend your forever with.”

The kids cooed and awwed and squealed in delight. You would’ve joined them if you didn’t feel so suspiciously close to crying. 

“It’s your turn,” Yunho whispered to you after a moment of silence. 

You blinked back to reality and squeezed Seokmin’s hands. “Alright, well, I didn’t have anything prepared but… I can’t imagine a life without you in it, Seokmin. I can’t imagine waking up to anything other than your attempts at coffee. I can’t imagine coming to work to the sound of anything other than your singing. You mean everything to me. This wedding came as a surprise but I am so glad it did because it means I can marry the man of my dreams.”

The children erupted into cheers as Minghao held out two rings for you to take. Seokmin slipped one around your ring finger with gentle, nervous grace. You did the same for him and smiled wide when he leaned forward to kiss your lips. 

Boys fought grimaces of disgust while girls giggled and squealed in delight. ‘Love Is an Open Door’ commenced playing once again as Yunho ushered you back down the aisle to be showered in flower confetti.

“Not at all what I thought they were planning,” Seokmin leaned towards you to whisper. “I did not expect this.”

“Is it weird that I’m not mad about it?” you asked and rested your head against his shoulder. “I know I said I wasn’t ready for marriage this morning but–”

“As far as I care, this marriage is all that counts,” he told you with a giddy smile and pressed another kiss to your lips. He held his left hand out for you to see, wriggling his fingers to show off his new paper jewellery. “I have a ring to prove it now.”

[starmaidengarden]

hiiiiii hru??? i love your “x reader” content !! :]

anywaysssss can i ask you to do a reverse comfort ?? ( like, the reader is the one who takes care of the characters because they have a breakdown or something similar) with overblot guys pls :)

srry if it something wrong, english its not my first language :((

—overblot gang : x gn!reader. Hurt/comfort. Soft angst. established relationship. dividers: uzmacchiato

note: my apologies that this took a while to write, writer's block has been eating me alive. Reverse comfort or angst isn't my best subject but I did try my best!!

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

The study was in disarray. Books lay scattered, pages wrinkled, ink bleeding across unfinished notes. Riddle stood rigid at the center, knuckles pressed to his forehead, shaking and feeling anxious. Everything felt overwhelming, turning his usually tidy life into chaos. He tried to act fine, but tears rolled down his smooth cheeks. His face was red, swollen eyes. He didn’t notice you at first. His eyes were locked on the floor as if trying to burn a hole through it as if he could fall through and escape. You stepped forward silently, navigating around the fallen papers. You knelt in front of him, wrapping your hands around his head and guiding him to your chest. He held onto your shirt tighter as he let his guard down. The silence calmed his worries, allowing him to breathe more easily and be a flawed, vulnerable person in your care without fear of judgment.

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

He sat half-reclined on his bed, eyes unfocused, arm slung over his forehead. To anyone else, he might’ve looked like he was napping, lazily enjoying the peace and quiet. But the way his brow was creased — not from sleep but from thought. His tail twitched at uneven intervals, restless. Your footsteps were soft. Deliberate. When you reached him, you didn’t speak. You didn’t ask what was wrong. Instead, you sat beside him. The silence stretched long, thick with everything unspoken — the echoes of old wounds, of voices from a childhood filled with comparisons and unmet expectations. Second-born. Second-best. The crown would never be his. Leona blinked at you, one green eye sliding open to meet yours. There was a quiet challenge in it at first, as if he expected you to scold him for moping or pity him like others did. But your eyes didn’t carry judgment — only calm, grounding warmth. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t either. You simply lay down beside him, close enough that, if he wanted, he could reach you. After a long pause, his tail flicked again — this time curling lightly around your ankle. He rolled over, resting his head on your chest. His breath was warm against you, and his chest rose and fell in a steadier rhythm.

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

Papers fell from his grip — menus, contracts, financial plans — all his carefully cultivated defenses fell alongside them. His hands trembled, knuckles a stark white against his purple-black pen. His gaze darted unfocused across the mess. His mind fell into chaos — doubts, disappointments, worries. He turned his back to you, ashamed, vulnerable — a side he hadn’t meant for anyone to see. You sat on the floor in front of him and waited. Eventually, his hands dropped away from his face, slow and shaking. His eyes were red at the corners, lashes wet, but no tears trailed down. His mask had cracked, but the pieces still clung to him — just barely. Then, without needing a word, you drew him into your embrace — resting his head against your heart. His grip tightened — first reluctantly, then more desperately — letting your warmth ease his worries.

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

Night had long since fallen, but Jamil sat alone on the balcony, leaning against the railing, face buried in his arms. The stars above offered no comfort; the weight of responsibility, of endless expectations, was too much tonight. You found him there, silent and still, and sank down beside him without a word. Slowly, you placed a bottle of water by his side, and then you rested your head against his shoulder. Your hand rubbed slow circles along his backhand, He stayed quiet, but you felt the faintest hitch in his breath. He tensed, unused to being cared for but— He was unraveling. In pieces no one else ever sees. Except you. As the minutes passed, he leaned into you, just barely. Under the stars, breathing in rhythm, letting the night carry away his worries. He didn’t let go for a long time. And neither did you.

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Vil sat in front of the vanity, not a trace of his usual poise in his posture. One hand lay limp on the tabletop, the other supporting his weight as he leaned forward. His reflection stared back at him, eyes hollow and tired. His makeup had smeared beneath one eye. His mouth, usually held with pride or precision, was slack—drawn down at the corners. His pulse pounded under his skin — a chorus of doubts. He turned away, ashamed. You gently lifted the makeup remover pad from the table. It was still damp. Turning, you knelt beside his chair. His lips parted slightly as if to say something — to scold, or maybe to warn you away. But no sound came out. Instead, you reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand — and with the other, you gently swept the stained pad beneath his eye. Slowly, carefully, his hand took yours. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t pull you into a dramatic embrace, He just held it. Not with elegance, not with his usual sense of stage presence. Just a quiet, tired motion — until his forehead came to rest against your shoulder. A shaky exhale fell from his lips — a vulnerable confession without words — that he was not alone.

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

The room was dark except for the soft light of his monitors. Screensaver spirals turned endlessly, untouched. His chair was turned away from the desk, barely rocking. Idia sat curled into himself on the bed, back against the wall, hoodie drawn over his head. Hair dim and flickering blue like a weak signal. One hand clutched the edge of a game controller, knuckles white, but the screen was off. His knees were drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them — closed in, locked up. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t move. There were empty snack wrappers scattered beside the bed. His tablet is face-down on the floor. You saw the home screen still faintly lit up — a string of messages left unanswered, the last one sent hours ago. You just approached him slowly, giving him time to react if he needed space. You sat on the edge of the bed beside him. You gently placed your hand over his — resting your palm against his knuckles. He froze. His arms came up — hesitantly, uncertain — and then wrapped around your waist in a quiet, broken motion. His head buried itself in your side. He didn’t make a sound. Letting silence ease his worries. Your warmth anchored him, adding a moment of peace in his world.

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

He stood solitary under a purple-black thundercloud, rain bouncing off his majestic horns. His magic faltered — growing wild — his confidence shaking alongside his power. He turned away, ashamed — a creature destined to be feared instead of valued. You approached without sound, stepping into his circle of solitude. Carefully, you extended your hand — no words, no demands. Unfurling your umbrella to keep him sheltered. The rain fell all around, bouncing off its surface, safely kept at bay. He turned toward you, Your gaze met his — calm, open, unwavering. You didn’t try to smile. You didn’t offer comfort in the form of shallow words. You just stood there with him. With him. Not the crown prince. Not the fae. Not the feared, revered being with horns and ancient magic. Just Malleus. Closer still, until his arms came around your shoulders, pulling you gently — but fully — into his chest. He rested his chin on the crown of your head and breathed out. And then he crumbled. Not in fury. Not in despair. Just quietly, like a wall that had finally allowed itself to fall — a moment of vulnerable peace forged without a word. You stayed beside him. Quiet. Steady. His magic grew calm, and the storm passed.

[jennxxe]

Clean cut.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader

summary — you go get a belly piercing ;)

warnings — 18+, vaginal sex, p in v, getting a piercing done sooo needles -> he makes it hurt more on purpose, cursing, eating out, fingering, THAT DAMN PRINCE ALBERT PIERCING, public sex, sex on job, no protection, creampie, getting caught, dom erik, he is lq an asshole

a/n — english IS NOT my first language so u might see a major mix of american and british wording <3

The parlor was dead. Not unusual for a Wednesday afternoon. Erik was slouched behind the counter, picking at the edge of a healed tattoo on his wrist as some loud rock song blasted from the nearby speakers. He wasn’t even pretending to work. The appointment book was blank for hours, his boss was out, probably arguing with a supplier about ink prices or flirting with someone twenty years younger, and Erik was killing time the way he always did: zoning out and trying to fight the inner demons telling him to impulsively tattoo himself again.

Then the bell over the door rang.

He didn’t look up at first. Most people walked in, saw the flash portfolio of poorly drawn roses from his boss’ early years, and walked right back out. But this one didn’t. You stepped in like you belonged there. Confident, slow, but not the fake kind of sexy. The real kind. No effort. Just existing.

Oh.

Well, fuck.

Black jeans. Black top. Belly showing—smooth, soft, pierced already? No, not yet. You walked right up to the desk like you knew exactly what you wanted. He sat up straighter, but kept his usual half-bored look.

“How can i help you?” he asked, the forced customer voice coming out dry as hell.

You leaned on the counter. “Looking to get a belly piercing.”

Erik exhaled through his nose, tapping the pen against the clip of the waiver forms. “Any chance you’re eighteen? Or is this gonna turn into me losing my job?”

You just hummed, pulling your ID out of your bag. You slid it across the counter like you’d done this before. Maybe not the piercing, but the part where you didn’t waste time. He liked that.

He took it, flipped it lazily between his fingers. “Shit. A real adult. Scary.” He hands it back. “Name’s Erik. Paperwork’s over there. Sign it so I don’t end up in court.”

You didn’t flinch. Picked up the clipboard, filled it out with a rhythm that said you weren’t nervous. Just bored. Or maybe calm. Same difference, in his experience.

He watched your hands. The way your fingers moved. Quick. Confident. Jewelry on your knuckles. You looked like the kind of girl who said what she meant and didn’t ask for permission first. That did something to him. You finished. Handed it back. Still didn’t smile.

“This way,” he said, nodding toward the back. The piercing room was small, red-lit, and always too warm. Like being inside someone’s bloodstream. Not his call. His boss thought the color was “edgy.” Erik thought it made everyone look like they were bleeding out.

“Hop up,” he said. Gloves snapped on. “Shirt up. Not for fun, unfortunately.” You laid back, lifted the hem, settled like it was nothing. He sterilized the skin. Marked the spot. Grabbed the clamp. Everything neat, practiced.

“You breathe in when I say. Out when I say. Don’t fuck it up.” He jabbed a finger at you like he was the drill sergeant of piercings.

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “What, you gonna hold my hand through it, too?”

Erik blinked. Did you just... sass him? Yeah, you did. And goddamn if that didn’t make his blood pressure spike.

“Well, maybe I will,” he muttered, sliding the needle closer. “For someone with that attitude, I might have to make it sting a little.”

You laughed, short and sharp, and he caught it like a challenge. So he did. Just a fraction longer with the needle. Enough for you to tense up, grit your teeth. Not enough to make you scream, but enough to make it clear this wasn’t a joke.

You glared, caught him looking. “Asshole,” you said.

He shrugged, pulling the clamp away like it was no big deal. “Told you not to fuck it up.”

You sat up slowly, fingers brushing your fresh piercing like you weren’t sure if it was real or just some weird new weight on your skin. Then, with the kind of casual confidence that drove him crazy, you bent down to grab your bag. Erik’s blue eyes caught the curve of your back, the way the light hit her skin just right.

And before his brain even had a chance to think, the words slipped out.

“I charge extra for turning me on, just so you know.”

He froze. Shit.

You looked up, eyebrows raised, a slow smile curling on your lips like you knew he meant it, even if he was too proud to admit it. Erik cleared his throat, trying to sound like he’d planned the whole thing.

“What? Gotta warn people about hidden fees.”

You laughed. He pretended to wipe his hands on his jeans, but damn if his heart didn’t just skip a beat. He shifted in place, one hand instinctively dropping to cover the bulge in the front of his jeans like it was some kind of emergency. Not that he wanted you to notice… Definitely not.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than you. “Keep it together, Campbell.”

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye and smirked just a little, like you already knew the effect you had. Erik cleared his throat, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and tried to act like nothing happened.

“Like I said, extra fee. Keeps things interesting.”

You slung the bag over your shoulder but didn’t move toward the door. Just stood there, eyes on him like you were thinking something over. Dangerous kind of silence.

Erik didn’t move either. Still playing it off, like he wasn’t hiding the fact that his jeans were suddenly had a tent in them.

“You good?” he asked, voice a little lower than before.

You tilted your head. “Yeah. Just wondering something.”

“Oh yeah?”

You took a step closer. Not playful, purposeful. Eyes steady on his like you could read straight through all the shit he tried to hide behind sarcasm and black clothes.

“What happens if I don’t pay the extra fee?”

That made his jaw twitch. Heat lit up his spine like a fuse. He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Because the second you were close enough, his hand shot out, curling into your shirt like a reflex. Pulled you in, hard, right into him. The kiss hit fast, rough, all teeth and impulse. He didn’t think, didn’t plan, just slammed his mouth against yours like he needed to shut you up and taste you at the same time.

You kissed back just as hard, fingers threading into his messy black hair, tugging a little—enough to make him groan into your mouth. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tight like he wanted to anchor himself or maybe ruin you a little, too.

The taste of you. The sound you made when he bit your bottom lip. The way your body pressed into his, like you weren’t just letting it happen.. you were in it.

He pushed you back until you hit the wall, hard enough to rattle the frame behind you. Didn’t say sorry. Just kissed you deeper, rougher, like he was trying to unmake your mouth with his own. His lips started trailing down your jaw, biting at the edge of your throat, and you gasped just loud enough to make him dizzy.

“Shit,” he breathed against your skin, voice wrecked. “You’re a fucking problem.”

Your laugh was breathless, smug. “Then do something about it.”

Your hands slid up under his shirt and he flinched—not from nerves, just from how fast his body reacted. You traced the line of his stomach, felt the cold steel of his nipple piercings under your palms.

You paused. He bit your bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “They’re real.” Your fingers flicked one, gentle at first. Then firmer. He hissed through his teeth, head dropping to your shoulder. “Shit. Keep doing that and I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

You didn’t stop.

His hands were already under your shirt, pushing it up, not bothering with gentle. He wanted to see. To feel. Skin against skin, your body warm against the metal pressing through him. He swore under his breath, grinding against you like it was instinct, like he needed friction or he’d combust.

Then your hand dropped lower. Over the front of his jeans. And when you pressed your palm there, he shuddered.

Yeah. You felt it.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, low and desperate. “If I let you see what else is pierced, you better know what you’re doing.”

Your breath caught. But you didn’t move away.

You didn’t say anything, just leaned into him, lips brushing his jaw in a slow, deliberate tease. Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up just enough to reveal the countless tattoos on his chest and stomach.

Erik caught the motion, his pulse spiking. He grabbed your wrist, holding your hand against his chest for a moment. Before he could think twice, Erik’s other hand dipped lower, fingers tracing the curve of your hip.

His mouth found yours again, harsher this time, teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you like he was going to die tomorrow. His tongue slid inside, claiming your mouth with a fierce urgency.

You responded, hands threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if you wanted to drown in him. Erik’s body pressed against yours, hard and unyielding, the sharpness of his piercings a thrilling contrast to the softness you offered.

“Oh, ho-ly fuck.” Erik groaned, hands gripping your waist tighter as he spun you around, pressing your front against the cold wall. His lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing, tongue flicking, each touch a promise and a threat all at once. The wall was cold in front you, but the heat between you was molten, dangerous.

Your breath hitched, body arching back into his like you were looking for more. Erik didn’t hesitate. Pants came off in one rough pull, exposing skin that was both scarred and marked, tattoos looking even darker in the dim red light. The silver bars through his nipples caught your gaze again, sharp, electric.

You reached behind you, fingertips tracing the metal slowly, deliberately. The touch was soft but enough to send a jolt straight through him.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “You touch those again, I’m not responsible for what happens.” Your hands slid under his jeans, hot and insistent, fingers wrapping around him through the fabric. His breath hitched, hips pressing forward, reacting before his brain could catch up.

He ripped your pants down in a brutal motion, bare skin meeting bare skin, electric, raw. His hands mapped your body—hipbones, the curve of your waist, the slight dip of your back—memorizing every inch.

You shivered under his touch, breath catching as his fingers found the hem of your panties. Slowly, carefully, he peeled them down just enough to reveal the wetness between your legs. In no time he was naked as well.

His fingers ghosted over your cunt, tracing your clit, then pressed lightly, making you gasp.

“Damn,” he said, voice thick. “You better leave me a five star review after this.”

He kissed down your neck again, teeth grazing sensitive skin, tongue flicking teasingly. He made hickey after hickey as his middle finger pressed into you, the ring he was wearing making you hiss lightly.

The cool steel of his Prince Albert piercing brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver through you both.

Erik stared at you, his blue eyes betraying that he’s contemplating something. He licked his lips, his gaze fixated on your most intimate area. After a moment of hesitation, he seemed to come to a decision.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, dropping to his knees behind of you. “Spread your legs a bit.”

As he was placing soothing kisses along your inner thighs, you arched your back. He could also see exactly where his finger disappeared into you. It made his cock twitch.

Erik pulled his finger out before pressing a feather-light kiss to your clit, feeling the heat against his lips. A soft moan escaped your lips as he traced the tip of his tongue along your slit, savouring your flavour.

"No wonder you act like that—walking around with a pussy like this," he mumbled against your folds before he could stop himself. He paused and pulled away slightly, “… I don’t know why the fuck I said that, pretend it never happened.”

You look back at him, smirking. “You mean how you said that— ow!” He bites your clit lightly before you can finish your sentence, arm curling around your hips so you get a clear view of him showing you his middle finger.

He delved deeper, licking and suckling as your hips rocked back against his face. Two fingers probed your entrance as soon as he pulled away, sliding in easily thanks to your wetness.

Erik worked his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside that made you see stars. His blue eyes were focused intently on the view in front of him as his other hand unconsciously started stroking his cock.

He pulled his fingers out, slow on purpose, watched them glisten in the red light. Wiped them across his tongue, like he was tasting something expensive. Then he stood up, dick hard and twitching in his fist, and looked down at you like you were a problem only he knew how to solve.

“Table,” he muttered. “Now.”

Not a request. You hesitated—half dazed, half drunk on whatever the hell that just was.

He smacked your ass, not playfully. Just to move you. “I said, get the fuck up there.”

No sweet tone. No smirk. Just pure impatience and the kind of lust that felt like it was about to boil over.

You stumbled a bit climbing onto the cold metal, but he didn’t help you. Just watched, running his hand along his length like he was sick of waiting.

And when you were finally where he wanted you—on your knees, hands bracing the edge—he stepped up behind you, close enough for you to feel the heat of him.

He leaned down, breath against your ear, and said low: “You wanna act like a bitch, fine. But you’re taking all of it. Don’t cry about it after.”

You glance back at him, breath still shaky. “...So. No condom?”

Erik’s already lining himself up, one hand gripping your hip like he owns it.

“Nah.”

A beat of silence.

You blink. “That’s it? Just nah?”

He smirks, eyes dragging up your back. “You think I ate you out like that and wasn’t gonna go in raw?”

You open your mouth to say something smart—he cuts you off by pushing in.

Conversation over.

He pushed in with one long, deliberate thrust—and you felt it. Not just him. The piercing.

Cold, smooth, and then—God. The way it dragged just slightly on the way in, brushing that sensitive spot inside you like it was designed for one thing and one thing only: driving you absolutely out of your mind.

Your mouth fell open, a sound catching in your throat.

Erik just groaned through his teeth, hands gripping your hips so tight you swore you’d bruise. “Yeah,” he hissed, voice wrecked. “Feel that?”

You nodded, too far gone for words. He thrust again, a little harder—and the way the metal shifted, hit just right—you swore your knees almost gave out.

He leaned forward, lips grazing your ear as he slammed in deeper. “Fuck,” he bit out, jaw clenching. “You feel like you were made for this.”

That damn ring made every stroke feel like too much, like he was rubbing your nerves raw from the inside and Erik knew. He could feel the way your body clenched around him every time it caught, and he started chasing that angle like a man possessed.

"Not so mouthy now, huh?" His breath was hot at your neck. "Thought you'd be tougher than this."

And still he kept going. Each thrust rougher, more perfect than the last, until all you could think about was the feel of him, the stretch of him, and that unholy pressure of cold steel and heat dragging you closer to the edge with every brutal, perfect snap of his hips.

He was close. You could feel it in the way his rhythm turned erratic, rougher. His hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your waist like he was anchoring himself to your body or maybe just claiming it.

“Gonna fill you up,” he groaned, low and feral. “You better take every—”

The door opened.

Both your heads snapped up.

Erik didn’t stop.

He should’ve. He didn’t.

His boss froze mid-step. “What the—are you serious, Campbell?! On the piercing table?!”

You gasped, a garbled mix of embarrassment and moan, but Erik just locked eyes with the guy like he was being inconvenienced, not caught raw-dogging someone naked in the middle of the shop.

“Dude,” Erik snapped, breath ragged. “Knock.”

Then he buried himself to the hilt and came.

Hard.

His eyes rolled back, jaw clenched, every muscle tensed as he emptied inside you with a low, wrecked grunt—still staring his boss dead in the face like it was a power move.

You trembled under him, completely wrecked, and the worst part? He didn’t even look apologetic.

The boss made some strangled sound, already backing toward the door. “I’m writing you up for this—Jesus Christ—”

Erik just grinned through heavy breaths. “Make it two. I ‘finished’ on the clock.”

Translation? Yeah, write me up twice. One for screwing on the piercing table, and one for ejaculating while technically still on the job—like he's being "paid" while busting inside you.

[illichillie]

A shadow of him

Lee Donghyuck x reader

summary: you try to summon your own doppelgänger with a spell that seems impossible. Tonight, the unthinkable happens, and you’re shocked to find out you managed to summon the doppelgänger of your boyfriend, Donghyuck, instead of your own. You’re even more shocked when you hear what he wants to do before he returns to his home world…

pairings: boyfriend!Donghyuck x female (afab) witch!reader x doppelgänger!Haechan

genre: smut, supernatural

cw: smut, supernatural, doppelgängers, witchcraft, magic, female reader, dub-con, creampie, p in v, selfcest (kinda), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Haechan is a tease lmao, use of petnames: baby, and mommy (jokingly)

this is heavily inspired by seeing double by @smileysuh !! Go read it now it’s incredible!!

english is not my first language so I apologize for any language errors!! MDNI under cut

You sat down in the small summoning circle you had managed to make, taking deep breaths as you opened your spell-book once again. Ever since you started practicing witchcraft, you hadn’t even been able to do a proper spell yet. Of course, you could do simple things, but you weren’t satisfied with that.

You didn’t learn witchcraft to do small, insignificant spells. No, you wanted something more to come out of this. That’s why you didn’t hesitate to flip through the pages until you reached the pages marked with red ink. Those were the most challenging spells in your book, but you knew you could do them.

For the last few days, this spell was the one you had tried your hardest to do. You could still recall the shock on your boyfriend’s face when you told him about your plan. To someone who wasn’t practicing, something like this would seem otherworldly and maybe even wrong, but you knew that this wasn’t frowned upon among other witches.

You had always been intrigued by the idea of doppelgängers. When you first found out they even existed, they became your little hyper-fixation. Creatures who resembled humans, but came from the other side. What was on the other side wasn’t entirely known to you, and it seemed the doppelgängers were the only creatures willing to come in contact with the human world. You beamed in excitement as you thought about getting to actually meet your own doppelgänger.

You watched as your candles magically lit up as your gaze met them, and hummed lowly before finally reading the words on the page. You worked extra hard on keeping your breathing steady, and felt the hairs on your neck raise as you continued reading.

You closed your eyes as you continued, having already memorized the spell from having tried it so many times. The words didn’t feel as foreign on your tongue as before, it was as if they just rolled off without struggle.

As you said the last words, you couldn’t help but feel a slight shift in the air around you. You kept your eyes closed for a few seconds before finally opening them, and your eyes couldn’t help but widen when you finally witnessed…

nothing.

You groaned in frustration. You were sure it was going to work this time. In a fit of anger, you quickly left the room, not even wanting to sit there in the humiliation of your failure.

You walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. Anything to try to get over this repeated cycle. You quickly closed the fridge door with an apple in hand, but immediately dropped it with a yelp when you were met with the presence of your boyfriend on the other side of the door.

”Don’t scare me like that H—”

Your eyes met his, and almost immediately, you could sense that something was off. You looked him up and down, but found nothing odd about what he was wearing. It was the same clothes he left in this morning.

He stayed quiet as he slowly walked towards you, his eyes wide and lips curled into an intrigued smirk.

”I didn’t hear you coming in,” you said in a small voice, still unsure of what was going on.

”Oh I didn’t take the front door, baby,” he answered, putting emphasis on the last nickname that your boyfriend loved to use. Your back collided with the kitchen wall as he made his way towards you, like a snake slithering towards its prey.

”Aren’t you the one who summoned me, hm?”

You felt as if your breathing stopped for a second. You watched as he smiled in amusement as you finally understood. ”But, I didn’t- I tried to summon a doppelgänger, and I—”

”You thought it would be one of you, didn’t you?” he asked as if reading your mind, leaning closer to your ear as his arms caged you between him and the wall.

”Seems like you were thinking about your little boyfriend an awful lot when you sat there, in your little makeshift circle.” You looked away in shame as he teased you for your skills, or lack thereof.

”I— didn’t know it worked like that,” you admitted, feeling degraded by his tone, and those sly eyes looking closely at you. You could feel his breath against your cheek, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little excited by the situation.

”Well now you know,” he said before letting out a light giggle and finally backing away from you. You let out a deep breath, but felt it get caught in your throat once again when you heard the sound of keys unlocking the front door. Without thinking much, you dragged your boyfriend’s doppelgänger into the nearest room, doing what he had just done to you. He looked at you with wide eyes as you pinned him against the wall.

”Ohh, so you can be dominant too, huh?~” he smirked before you finally covered his mouth, rolling your eyes.

”Baby! I’m home!” you heard Donghyuck say from the hall. You had to admit it felt weird to hear your boyfriend’s voice from the hall when you had an exact copy of him right in front of you, who was smiling into your hand, seemingly amused by your distress.

”Just a second!” you yelled through the door, before whispering to the man in front of you. ”Stay here, and don’t make a sound,” you ordered, trying your best to sound stern and tough. You slowly removed your hand from his mouth, seeing that big smile on him remaining. ”You want me to say ’yes mommy’ or something?” he whispered. You couldn’t help but blush at his airy tone, but just stormed off without answering his question.

You shot him a warning glance before finally leaving the room, not knowing how to act with the man who was standing right outside the door.

”Were you saying something?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. ”Nope!” you answered way too quickly. You tried to get his mind off of it by wrapping your arms around his neck, going in for a small kiss. He smiled, but kept looking suspiciously at you.

”You seem… on edge,” he said, making you stiffen even more in his hold. ”Well…” you trailed off, but as soon as you noticed where he was going next, you felt the panic creeping up on you. ”Wait!” you managed to say before he opened the door.

You didn’t even have to look at him to know what face he was making, instead, your eyes wandered to the doppelgänger, who stood there with a wide smile. ”Well hello, my other self!”

Your boyfriend slowly angled his head towards you, meeting your gaze with endless confusion. You looked away quickly. ”Alright, I guess I have some explaining to do…”

——————-

You couldn’t help but notice how the doppelgänger’s eyes bore into you as you explained the situation to your boyfriend. Neither could you ignore the feeling of his leg brushing up against yours under the dinner table, as he sat on the shorter side of it, in between you and Donghyuck who faced each other.

”Is this something that happens often?” Donghyuck asked, not directing the question to you. ”Yeah, it’s a common mistake, so don’t worry,” the man bext to you answered. ”However, it’s a little bit inconvenient that it had to happen today…” he trailed off. You gave him a look, waiting for him to continue.

”I have plans for tonight, y’know?” he pouted slightly. You made eye contact with your boyfriend, who seemed to already have grown tired of his look-alike. ”Uh-huh… And what do you want me to do about that? Is there any way for me to like… send you back?” you asked.

Suddenly, a devious smile coated the doppelgänger’s lips, as his eyes travelled between yours and your boyfriend’s.

”Well, you could always do me a favor,” he looked up innocently at Donghyuck, who gave you a confused glance, as if you knew what he was up to, to which you shook your head. ”And what favor would that be?” you asked, making him look back at you.

He hummed. ”Well… to put it simply,” he started, leaning over to sit closer to you, only to avert his attention back to your boyfriend. ”I would like to fuck your girlfriend!” he said in an all too casual tone.

”Excuse me!?” Donghyuck stood up from his chair. You just sat there, frozen, in disbelief. ”Hear me out, please,” the man next to you said, making Donghyuck slowly sit down again.

”She would basically just have sex with two of you! Or two of me, I guess—” he trailed off. ”How come you’re asking him and not me?” you interrupted.

He looked at you with a smirk, leaning in way too close for someone who almost felt like a stranger. ”Because I already know you’ll be up to it.”

”Really?” Donghyuck said. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt your cheeks heat up. ”I- I don’t—” you stuttered.

”She didn’t tell me per se, but reading human body language isn’t exactly hard.” The doppelgänger winked, leaning closer to Donghyuck instead. ”And since she’s the lover of my doppelgänger, it’s like I already know her, I know her body, I know her mind, her soul,” he continued, voice lowering. Donghyuck only looked at him with bewilderment.

”C’mon, you want to please your lovely girlfriend right? Your baby?” he tilted his head, never once breaking eye contact with Donghyuck.

”Well… I guess,” he said. You gasped in surprise. ”Amazing!” you heard the doppelgänger exclaim, standing up and taking both your and Donghyuck’s hands in his. ”Let’s go then!!”

”Hold on!” you said, making him stop in his tracks. ”I just want to talk about this with Donghyuck first,” you said. ”Alone.”

—————-

”Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, this feels very sudden to me, I can only imagine what it’s like for you,” you said, cupping Donghyuck’s face in your hands. He put his hands over yours, a smile on his face.

”I admit that it’s sudden but, now that I think about it… I’m not against the idea,” he admitted shyly. ”But are you sure this is okay?” he asked you, making you blush even more.

”Well, I think he’s right about… knowing my mind, and that stuff,” you admitted. ”And honestly, I kind of see him as an extension… of you,” you laughed a little bit at your own words. Donghyuck gave you a long kiss.

”Let’s do this then, he seems more than eager to finally get his hands on you,” he said, making you look away in shame. ”Can’t blame him though,” Donghyuck continued. ”I feel the exact same way.”

You entered your bedroom, the spell-book still lying open on the floor. You saw the doppelgänger look around the room curiously, looking through your crystals and books, a smile coating his lips. ”Ahh finally,” he said as he spotted the two of you. You could sense the hunger in his eyes as he pulled you closer to the bed. While he did look exactly like Donghyuck, there was something so sinister about his gaze, something so dark and alluring about his tone.

He wasted no time, pushing you down into the soft mattress, climbing on top of you. Your eyes searched for your boyfriend, but the man on top of you grabbed your face rather harshly. “You get to look at him every day, so focus on me now, kay?” he said. You nodded slowly. “Oh and also,” he said while slowly caressing your cheek. “Call me Haechan, so we don’t get confused.”

“Really? That nickname that I used to have?” Donghyuck scoffed, earning a side-glance of judgement from Haechan. “Yes, it sounds much cooler than Donghyuck.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange.

You watched as Haechan whispered something in your boyfriend’s ear, making him nod before changing his position. You were slowly put into this position somewhere between sitting and lying down, with Donghyuck holding you in place from behind.

You felt his hot breath in your ear, making you shiver. “Undress her,” Haechan ordered, making you twitch in anticipation. You felt Hyuck’s hands touch your skin delicately as he slowly took off your shirt. Haechan slowly took off his own shirt as well, looking deep into your eyes as he did so.

Haechan’s hands started fiddling with your zipper, eagerly getting your pants off. “Can’t wait to see you, baby,” he said in that whispery tone that you had already learned to love. You squirmed a little bit as the cold air hit your legs, and couldn’t help but feel exposed in only your underwear.

“Bra too,” Haechan ordered Donghyuck, to which he obeyed immediately. “Have you ever seen your boyfriend in such a state, hm?” Haechan asked you, running his hands up and down your bare thighs that you unconsciously tried to close together. “He’s so obedient right now, so submissive,” he whispered. “He’ll do anything I say…”

You looked away from Haechan as Donghyuck finally got your bra off. “Don’t be shy now,” Haechan sang as his fingers slowly reached the waistband of your panties. “I’m going to make sure to see every little part of this body of yours.”

You shivered as he pulled your panties off, closing your legs together. “This doesn’t feel fair,” you groaned slightly, seeing as you were the only one who was completely undressed.

“Who said anything about this being fair?” Haechan teased. You took a shaky breath as he spread your legs apart, looking between them with a smile. “I knew you were turned on but this?” he almost laughed, collecting a little bit of your wetness with his fingers. “This is really dirty, baby,” he tilted his head.

“Keep looking at me,” Haechan said, to which you obliged, watching as he slowly took his fingers into his mouth and licked and sucked. You felt Donghyuck’s fingers playing with your nipples, rubbing slow circles that made you whine in desperation. “Such a good girl,” he whispered in your ear from behind, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hyuck, keep her legs apart for me,” Haechan said after pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop. Donghyuck’s legs looped around yours to keep them spread, as he continued touching your nipples, pinching and pulling.

“I’ve been dying to taste you ever since I first saw you,” Haechan said in almost a whine. Contrary to his controlled and dominant actions, you could hear the desperation and yearning in his voice, see the lust in his eyes.

You felt your boyfriend getting hard behind you, pushing up against your back, and you couldn’t help but grow eager yourself.

But no, Haechan was slow, calculated and such a tease, even worse than Donghyuck. His plump lips slowly kissed your stomach, his hands resting on your thighs, way too close to your aching heat for you to ignore it. “Please,” you whined out without even thinking about it. “Hm? Please what?” Haechan separated himself from your skin, making you twitch ever so slightly. “Please Haechan— I need you,” you let out.

Your boyfriend let out an amused hum from behind you. “So desperate,” he whispered. “You like having two of me huh?”

You simply nodded as Haechan’s fingers drew small circles on the skin of your inner thighs. “Be patient,” he said before continuing his slow teasing, a small giggle leaving his mouth as he kissed you. Your eyes met his as he looked up from his spot, and you saw the way he smiled when you let out a whimper as Donghyuck continued pinching your nipples.

You felt your boyfriend’s lips meet your neck, sucking and licking, and that only added to the sensations. Four hands, two mouths and an ache inside you, begging to be satisfied.

When you could swear Haechan had reached where you wanted his lips the most, he instead opted to start kissing your thighs, making your hips buck up slightly. You writhed around, trying to grab his head, but Donghyuck was quick to grab you, giving your sensitive buds a rest to instead hold your hands in his. “Please Haechan,” you said, looking down at him desperately.

He only giggled, continuing his slow work. “You want a little distraction?” Hyuck whispered. You immediately nodded, making him turn your head to kiss you hungrily. You could tell he needed it too, with how handsy he had been, how his hips had slowly moved against you from behind you, and the way he was almost panting in your ear. You felt his tongue against yours, but you were far from distracted, you just wanted more.

As if Haechan could read your mind, that’s when he finally licked a long stripe between your legs, making your breath hitch. Contrary to his previous actions, his tongue moved quickly, flicking over your clit as his hands gripped your thighs.

Donghyuck continued kissing and sucking at your neck as Haechan’s tongue worked wonders between your legs. You tried to hold back your noises, but you couldn’t stop them from leaving your parted lips. “That’s it baby,” you heard your boyfriend praise, caressing your hands that he still held in his.

You gasped when Haechan slowly inserted two of his fingers inside of you, curling them upwards as his tongue moved quickly. You tried to close your legs slightly, the sensations being too much to bear, but Haechan just slapped your thigh and made a noise of disapproval. You felt Donghyuck’s legs hold yours down with greater force, making you throw your head back at the unavoidable pleasure of Haechan’s fingers and mouth.

“Hey,” Donghyuck said, and you could tell he was talking to his doppelgänger, not you. “Don’t get carried away,” he said, sounding almost a little grumpy. “She’s my girlfriend, not yours.”

You could barely focus on their conversation as Haechan’s fingers picked up the pace. “Oh please,” he just said before continuing to lick you. “Can’t you tell— that she loves it?” Haechan said in between licks. Hyuck let out what almost sounded like a growl.

You felt yourself getting close, your hands gripping your boyfriend’s, legs trembling slightly. Hyuck’s teeth grazed your neck slightly as Haechan continued pushing you closer to orgasm.

“There you go baby,” one of them said, you could barely tell who was who in the state you were in, but that was the last thing you heard before pushing over the edge and letting out a loud moan. Your entire body trembled as Haechan continued violently licking and sucking your clit, his fingers still keeping a steady rhythm inside of you.

Right when Hyuck’s hands left yours you were quick to grab a hold of Haechan’s dark locks, pulling slightly to stop the overstimulation that was about to make you cry. He didn’t budge though, he continued his tongues work no matter how sensitive you were, only seeming to get more eager when you pulled his hair, letting out groans and whines.

You had barely noticed your boyfriend moving from his spot behind you, until you saw him, now only wearing his boxers, standing behind Haechan at the end of the bed. He took a hold of the man’s hair, pulling him away from your aching heat, to which Haechan let out a whine of disapproval, looking at Hyuck with an angry pout.

“Greedy, huh?” Donghyuck smirked at him, pushing him to the side of the bed. “Well I’m getting pretty desperate as well,” he said, crawling on top of your form. Your eyes were in the back of your head as you took deep breaths, still recovering from the intense orgasm. They both got fully undressed, throwing all of their clothes on the floor. Haechan almost rushed to kiss you, but someone stopped him from doing it.

“What now!?” Haechan whined at your boyfriend, who once again, chose to pull his hair. “Haven’t you had enough of her already?” Hyuck asked, keeping his hand fisted in his hair. “I’ll allow you to do what I just did. You’re going to have to watch me pleasure her, while you sit there, not being able to do anything about it,” he smiled. You didn’t even recognize this side of Hyuck, but you guessed having another him here brought out his competitive side.

Surprisingly enough, Haechan just nodded, and got behind you, imitating the position your boyfriend had before. “What happened to you being so tough?” you teased him as he got settled behind you. He smirked at your comment, leaning in to talk right into your ear. “I can be a good boy too,” he said. “Can’t I, mommy?”

You twitched at the nickname he already used once earlier today. It wasn’t something you would ever get off on normally, but hearing Haechan say it was something completely new. It was so loaded with yearning, so teasing, and really reminded you of the control he seemed to have over you.

You looked at Donghyuck who carefully spread your legs and put them over his shoulders. You gasped when you felt his length push against you, slowly teasing against your entrance that still felt sensitive after Haechan’s fingers.

You twitched when Haechan’s mouth started kissing the shell of your ear, small sounds leaving his lips and making you squirm in his hold. It was apparent to you how desperate he was for your attention, both when dominant and submissive. “That feels good? hm?” he said into your ear before letting his lips travel lower down your neck. His mouth was so different from Donghyuck’s, but still so addicting.

Donghyuck quickly grabbed your hands and locked eyes with you. You gave him a small nod before he finally pushed himself inside of you, making your eyes roll back at the feeling.

Hyuck let out a gasp when he fully entered you, and you could feel Haechan shift behind you as he let out a small whimper. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his sudden change in behavior - all it took was a hand in his hair for him to become like this.

“You feel so good,” Donghyuck said, letting you get used to the feeling of his girth inside of you. You inhaled sharply as he started moving, but your attention was soon turned elsewhere, when Haechan started moving your hand to the side. You heard him moan loudly when he wrapped your hand around his cock, using his own to guide it up and down.

“You really can’t help yourself can you?” Donghyuck said, looking into Haechan’s eyes. “You’re right, I can’t.”

He had no shame about it, bucking into your hand, letting out airy breaths and moans. You noticed his rhythm changing with Donghyuck’s, as if he tried to match it. “You wish you could be inside her too, don’t you?” Hyuck said between groans. You gasped when Hyuck’s fingers found your clit, making slow circles with his fingers.

You felt Haechan’s other hand move towards your nipples. “Can I suck?” he asked shamelessly, still fucking into your hand. You nodded, and he immediately laid you down on the mattress and started licking and sucking your nipple. Your eyes met Hyuck’s, and you could tell he was about to burst deep inside of you from the look in his eye alone.

“You’re really going to cum inside of her without even making her cum too?” Haechan asked, pausing his mouth’s movements. “Oh don’t worry,” Hyuck said, quickening his movements. “I have other plans for that.”

Donghyuck became loud as he finally came deep inside of you, making you arch your back at the full feeling. He kept thrusting a few more times, fucking it deeper into you before pulling out.

“Make him cum too baby,” he ordered in your ear, and you finally let your hand work on its own on Haechan, which immediately made him putty in your hands, throwing his head back and thrusting quickly. It didn’t take much for him to explode in your hands, and as you expected, he was much louder than Donghyuck, high-pitched moans filling the room as he came all over your stomach.

There was a moment where the three of you just lay there, panting and basking in the afterglow, but it didn’t last very long. ”Baby,” Donghyuck said in your ear, to which you responded with a small hum. ”Why don’t you get on top of Haechan?”

You and Haechan glanced at Donghyuck in sync, but while your expression turned into a smirk, Haechan’s became one of confusion.

You quickly climbed on top of Haechan, eager to follow whatever plan your boyfriend had in mind. ”What, but I already came, I—” Haechan stuttered, looking between you and Hyuck. ”You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you?” Donghyuck asked as you slowly repositioned yourself to lower yourself down on his cock.

”Y-yeah but—” Haechan was interrupted by his own gasp when he felt you against his tip, that was still so sensitive. ”Don’t you want to make her cum?” Donghyuck asked, making Haechan nod after a pause, even though he twitched at the sensation of you against him.

You smiled when you heard the loud whine he let out as you let him enter you, noting that he was still hard, even after just cumming all over himself. The wetness of Hyuck’s cum inside of you coated Haechan, even spilling out on the sides of your hole as you moved on top of him.

”Shit, fuck—” Haechan cursed, grabbing your hips. You saw Hyuck’s expression of pure joy as his doppelgänger whimpered loudly in the mix of pain and pleasure.

”She’s going to keep going until she cums too, no matter how long it takes,” Donghyuck informed lowly into Haechan’s ear, earning an eager nod from him.

You closed your eyes in delight, working your hips on the writhing man beneath you, letting yourself use him for your own pleasure. Even though he shivered and dig his nails into your hips, you could tell he was enjoying it too. Those shaky breaths, the way his cock grew larger again inside of you, and the way his hip’s unmistakably bucked up into you constantly, it was obvious that he was pleased with the situation too.

You felt Donghyuck’s presence behind you, his hands roaming your body gently. ”That’s it baby,” he said into your ear, his voice sounding deep in contrast to Haechan’s noises. When you felt his fingers on your clit again, you felt the warm feeling build inside you at a rapid pace, making you grab Donghyuck’s forearm in an attempt to steady yourself.

You had never heard Hyuck even making nearly as much noise as Haechan was right now - with that said, you hadn’t overstimulated him before either - but the sounds made you reach your second high even faster. Haechan’s eyes rolled back into his head as you picked up the pace, your own moans being drowned out by the man beneath you, who now almost dug his nails into your hips. ”Shit— I’m gonna cum too,” Haechan said as he felt you pulse around him.

You heard Donghyuck let out a small giggle behind you, but you couldn’t focus on that when you finally let go in his arms and let yourself let out a loud moan. Haechan spasmed slightly underneath you, gasping as he spurted deep inside of you. You twitched at the warm feeling of cum inside of you before finally allowing yourself to collapse on top of Haechan.

You slowly let him pull out of you, feeling the mix of Donghyuck and Haechan’s cum starting to ooze out from between your legs.

”You did so well,” Donghyuck praised, rubbing a soothing hand over your warm back. You felt the deep rise and fall of Haechan’s chest from under you, before he gently rolled you over to your back. You let out a small sound of confusion when Harchan started making his way out of the bed. Donghyuck quickly laid down next to you instead, pulling the soft blankets over you.

”Leaving so soon?” you asked as Haechan got dressed. ”I’ve got plans tonight, remember?” he reminded you, running a hand through his messy hair. ”Hope one of me’s enough for you,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

”But wait, wasn’t this the compensation for you having to miss out on your plans?” Donghyuck asked. Haechan looked away with a guilty smile. ”Well…” and that was the last thing he said before finally leaving the two of you in your bedroom, closing the door behind him.

”You think he’s going back to his own world now? just like that?” you asked, cuddling up against your boyfriend’s warm frame. ”Hopefully. I’m done with being this jealous anyway,” he admitted. You raised your eyebrow, looking into his half-opened eyes. ”Really? You? Jealous? Of someone who’s basically a clone of yourself?” you questioned, making him scoff.

”Yeah, me, jealous. He’s still another man who just fucked my girlfriend at the end of the day, right?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his words, having never heard him be this pouty about something like this before. ”You’re so cute when you’re like this,” you poked his cheek. He smiled brightly before leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips.

”I love you, you know that right?” he said, his breath fanning over your face.

”Of course I know that, silly,” you smiled. ”And you know I love you, right? Even though you’re jealous of your own doppelgänger?”

Donghyuck laughed before kissing you again, even harder this time. ”Yes. Of course I know that.”

I hope you enjoyed this story!!💋

feel free to leave me requests if you have a specific scenario/member/prompt in mind!

[isabelckl]

meeting ellie in detention

nerdy ellie williams x popular fem!reader

detention has always been boring—until the last person you expected walks in. now you’re stuck in the same room, and it’s a lot harder to ignore her.

Detention. Again. Second time this month.

You’re slouched low in the hard plastic chair, spine curved in a way that probably screams "I give up," the edge of the desk digging uncomfortably into your ribs. One leg bounces under the table, the sole of your shoe scuffing softly against the floor with every twitch. The room smells faintly like Expo markers and teenage boredom, warm dust floating in streaks of light pouring through slatted blinds. The air conditioner hums in the ceiling like it’s trying too hard and still failing to cool anything down.

Your head hangs forward, a lazy weight, chin nearly touching your chest as you idly flick at the fake nail on your middle finger — the one that went flying across the cafeteria when you slapped the ever-loving shit out of Victoria during lunch. It clicks against your nailbed with each flick, a tiny, hollow sound that breaks the silence like a metronome for your regret.

You exhale sharply through your nose, lips twitching into a sour twist.

“I should’ve just let that bitch go,” you think to yourself, dragging your head back until it flops against the top of your seat with a dramatic, whispered groan.

The oversized clock on the wall ticks with cruel precision, every second dragging its heels like it's stuck in glue. The teacher — some substitute whose name you didn’t bother to catch — is half-asleep at their desk, hunched over a crossword puzzle or a book with the spine cracked flat. They're not even pretending to watch you. It's one of those afternoons where the heat makes everything slow, where even trouble feels sluggish and tired.

You’re just about to give in to the heaviness tugging at your eyelids, your cheek halfway to the cool surface of the desk, when the door creaks open with an uncertain squeal.

Your eyebrows lift.

Huh?

“You’re here,” you blurt out before you can catch the words, your voice cutting through the haze like a pebble tossed into still water. You sit up straighter, something in you crackling awake with sharp interest.

Ellie Williams steps into the room like she’s not sure if she belongs — the usual quiet type, always either with headphones on, a guitar slung across her back, or buried somewhere in the library behind a stack of sci-fi novels and sketchpads. Her eyes flit up and meet yours for a moment before darting away. Then she scans the room like she’s searching for the least cursed seat available.

“You can sit here,” you offer, nodding at the empty chair beside you. Your voice is casual, but there’s a flicker of curiosity you don’t bother hiding.

“I guess...” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck with the palm of her hand. She moves like she’s being dragged by invisible strings — hesitant, stiff — and drops into the seat beside you like she’s expecting it to collapse underneath her.

You tilt your head, crossing your arms and letting your eyes roam, not subtle about it. Her flannel sleeves are rolled up, revealing a faint ink smudge near her wrist. There’s a nervous energy buzzing off her in low frequency, barely noticeable unless you’re this close.

“What?” you ask, a spark of challenge in your tone.

Ellie glances at you, brows drawing inward. “What?”

You squint like you’re staring at a half-finished painting, trying to figure out what’s missing. “Nothing. Just… Ellie Williams, in detention, here with me? You’re like the last person I expected to see.”

She stares at you for a second, then looks away, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know you knew my name,” she says, soft and matter-of-fact, like that’s what surprised her the most.

You let out a small, amused laugh. “Of course I know your name. We’re classmates in like… two subjects. You sit three rows over in Calc, always solving problems before the teacher even finishes writing them on the board.”

Ellie shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans. She looks like you’ve just peeled back something she’s spent years sewing shut.

“So what did you do?” you ask, leaning in just slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. “Come on, I need something to keep me entertained.”

She gives you a look, equal parts wary and annoyed. “No.”

“Oh, come on. I just wanna know what got you here. I mean, I’m here because I bitch-slapped Victoria for spreading a fake rumor about me.” You say it like a badge of honor, chin lifted slightly. “Your turn.”

Ellie lets out a breath, glancing down at her hands again. Her nails are short, bitten at the edges. She chuckles quietly, a low, sheepish sound. “It’s lame.”

“Come on,” you nudge her with your elbow, grinning now.

She doesn’t respond, just offers the ghost of a smile and goes back to staring at the graffiti scratched into the desk.

You sigh and flop back into your seat again. “Fine. I get it. First time in detention. Gotta preserve your image.”

She side-eyes you, and this time, there’s a smirk pulling at her mouth like she’s trying to suppress it. “Why would you think I’m the last person you’d see here?” she asks, her voice lower, curious.

You scoff under your breath and rest your arm on the back of her chair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Because you’re just... good.”

Her brow arches.

“I mean, a great example of a model student,” you continue, motioning vaguely in her direction. “You’re, like, top of our calculus class, probably gonna graduate with honors or whatever. And you draw, right? I saw some of your stuff in art class. The charcoal sketches.”

She stares at you now, like she’s hearing you through a tunnel. “You knew that?” she says, voice soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes a little, but there’s no bite in it. “I pay attention.”

Ellie smiles — not fully, just a quiet, private curve of her lips — and bites the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to hide it.

“No talking,” the teacher calls out without lifting their eyes.

You roll your eyes again and settle into silence, the kind that’s thick but not uncomfortable. The ticking clock sounds louder now, each second ricocheting off the pale classroom walls. Somewhere outside, a locker slams shut, followed by faint, echoing laughter. But your focus is stuck on the girl next to you — the way her fingers drum softly against the desk, the quiet way she breathes, how her knee is still barely an inch from yours.

You rest your chin in your hand, elbow propped on the desk, still watching her. Ellie stares straight ahead like she’s forcing herself not to glance your way. Like she can feel you looking and isn’t sure what to do about it.

“So...” you murmur, voice low and casual, “are you doing anything later?”

Ellie turns her head a fraction. “Uh, nothing... I think. Why?”

“Wanna go to a party with me? Just a house thing at Kendra’s.”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard, and gives you a look like you just asked her to go skydiving. “Why would I go to a party with you?”

You shrug, leaning back. “Nothing serious. Just wondered. Have you ever been to one?”

“Well... yeah. But not the kind of party you’re talking about.”

You squint, amused now. “And what kind is that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a glint in her eyes. “The ‘your kind’ kind. You know... boys and stuff.”

You snort. “Boys and stuff? Seriously?”

Ellie shrugs again, her smirk widening just enough to make your stomach flip.

“No one’s gonna make you do anything, y’know,” you add, raising an eyebrow at her, voice softer now, like an unspoken promise.

She hesitates, her eyes flicking to yours, then down to her lap. The pause stretches — not uncomfortable, just thoughtful — and then she nods slowly.

“I guess so. I could come.”

“Great. It'll be fun,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips as you lean back, arms crossing. There’s a fizz of electricity in your chest now, subtle but undeniable.

There’s a pause again — not awkward, just… still. The kind that stretches long enough for you to start wondering what’s going on in her head. You glance over, your voice a little softer now, curious instead of teasing.

“So... do you, like, have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

Ellie lets out a low laugh — short and breathy, like you caught her off guard. “Nah. Why?”

You lean your shoulder against the back of your chair, studying her expression as if it might give something away. “What’s your type, then?” you ask, tossing it out like it’s no big deal, like it’s just a casual, meaningless question — even though it kind of isn’t.

She glances at you sideways, her brow arching. “Why are you asking me that?”

You smirk, shrugging lazily. “So I can set you up with someone later. Maybe.”

Ellie scoffs, rolling her eyes — but there’s no real bite to it. “Didn’t you just say no one’s gonna make me do anything? And now you’re trying to play matchmaker?”

“I just wanna try,” you say, nudging her foot lightly under the desk. “C’mon, it'd be cute.”

She shakes her head slowly, but there’s a smile creeping onto her lips — small, like she’s trying to hold it back but failing. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then, quieter this time, eyes fixed on the grain of the wooden desk, she says, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

You nod, and it’s not teasing now — there’s something softer in the way you do it, something that says you’re listening. That maybe you understand more than you’re letting on.

She glances up, eyes flicking toward you, just a little narrower now. Like she’s testing the waters. “How about you? Nathan?”

You blink, caught off guard, then immediately grimace. “Nathan? Nathan fucking Walsh? No way. Do people seriously think we hooked up?”

Ellie doesn’t answer — just lifts her eyebrows like, You tell me.

You groan, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Ugh, that’s a no. Like, a no-in-hell situation. I’d rather set myself on fire.”

Ellie actually laughs — a real one this time. It spills out of her unfiltered, her head tilting back just slightly. It’s soft, a little scratchy, and it warms something in your chest.

You can’t help but grin, cheeks already aching. “So… you’re coming with me later?”

She looks at you, really looks this time — like she’s trying to figure out what the hell she just got herself into. Her eyes flick between yours and the floor before she finally nods once.

“Yeah. Okay.”

The music is already pulsing through the house by the time you catch sight of her. It spills out the front door in a steady, throbbing rhythm, matched only by the flicker of string lights and silhouettes moving behind fogged-up windows. Ellie steps in with a slight hesitation, like the air is thicker here — like she’s walking into somewhere she’s not sure she belongs, but she's here anyway. A red solo cup is cradled loosely in her hand. Her shoulders are squared, jaw set, but her eyes move like she’s absorbing everything, scanning for a place to land.

Then they find you.

You spot her from across the room and light up, warmth blooming across your face, already flushed from the shots you took earlier. You break away from your group mid-sentence, weaving through a haze of cologne, sweat, and perfume until you reach her. Your grin is crooked, wide. “Heyyy,” you say, dragging the word out with a giddy lilt as you throw your arms around her.

Your balance tips a little on your heels — you’re slightly tipsy, full of heat and laughter — and Ellie catches you with a hand at your waist. Her grip is hesitant but steady. You’re aware of how solid she feels, how warm, how she doesn’t pull away even though she totally could.

“You really came,” you say against her ear, breath brushing the shell of it.

“I said I would,” she replies, voice quiet, like the volume of the house makes her want to retreat into herself. She looks down at you, eyes soft. The button-up she’s wearing is wrinkled at the edges, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and she smells faintly like clean laundry — sharp and comforting — mixed with the burn of something stronger. Whiskey, maybe.

You take her cup without asking, taking a sip and wrinkling your nose playfully before handing it back. “You’re late,” you say, tugging her by the wrist, your fingers lacing lightly around hers as you pull her toward the kitchen.

Ellie doesn’t resist. She follows you into the warmth and chaos of the party, and you hand her a shot before raising your own. She downs it without a grimace — like it’s nothing — then does the second one just the same.

You blink, impressed. “I thought you were all straight-edge,” you tease, nudging her elbow with yours.

She shrugs, lips curling at the edge. “Never said that.”

You laugh, leaning a little too close as your balance shifts again. “You’re full of surprises, Ellie Williams.”

The two of you end up at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the counter while people move around you in waves. The music swells and falls, conversations weaving together in fragments. You’re mostly talking — telling stories, rambling through your buzz — while Ellie listens, her body angled just enough toward you to show she’s paying attention. Her green eyes flick over your face like she’s memorizing something, and every now and then, her lips twitch like she’s holding back a smile.

Your fingers brush her forearm more than once. She doesn’t pull away.

At some point — you’re not sure when — someone drags you onto the dance floor. It’s hot and crowded, all limbs and flickering light, and you don’t remember if it was your idea or hers, but suddenly you’re dancing. Ellie’s hand is at your waist, grounding you in the motion, keeping you upright as you spin and stumble and laugh into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m too drunk,” you wheeze out, laughter bubbling up. Your feet trip over each other, and you lean heavily into her as she catches you, both hands sliding to your hips, steady and firm.

You look up, breath warm against her neck, your heart hammering somewhere near your throat. Your cheeks are flushed — from the alcohol, the heat, her. “What if,” you say slowly, words slurring just a little, “what if the person I wanted to set you up with… is me?”

Ellie goes still.

She’s staring at you, eyes wide, mouth parted like she wasn’t expecting that. Her breath catches — just barely — but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t laugh it off or deflect. Instead, she leans in close, her lips brushing your ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” she murmurs.

You nod, barely thinking.

Everything becomes a blur of color and heat and motion. Upstairs, the bass from the music fades into a dull thump beneath your feet. You barely make it through the threshold of some stranger’s bedroom before Ellie’s lips are on yours, and your back hits the wall with a soft thud. Her hands are everywhere — in your hair, along your jaw, gripping your thighs as she lifts you up slightly, your legs tightening instinctively around her waist.

You’re breathless. Dizzy. Drunk off her mouth, her warmth, the way she kisses like she’s wanted to for a while and finally stopped holding back. Your hands are under her shirt, fingers skimming hot skin, tugging her closer, closer, until there’s nothing between you but heat and want and the sound of your own gasping breaths.

It’s messy. A little desperate. But god — you've never wanted anything more.

[littleflowerpond]

Hide and seek fuck

"He broke into your house seeking refuge, but what he found was you — naked, showering behind glass. And instead of leaving, the most wanted criminal began to undress… and joined you without hesitation."

warning : smut, explicit content

News had been looping the same headline all evening: “Jeon Jungkook escapes custody, armed and extremely dangerous.” 

But you didn’t care. The hot water streamed over your skin in the glass shower, fogging up the edges but not hiding you entirely. You let your head rest against the tile, eyes closed. Until your bathroom door creaked open. You froze. A soft click, A footstep. Someone was in your house.

Your heart pounded. You turned slowly, eyes wide, breath caught in your throat. And then you saw him,Jeon Jungkook. His photo had been everywhere, ink-black hair wet from rain, jaw clenched, black hoodie clinging to his chest, gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes met yours through the foggy glass. You should’ve screamed. But neither of you moved. His gaze traveled slowly. There was hunger in it, not just for your body. He stepped closer, steam curling around him like smoke.

“I needed a place to hide,” his voice was low, gravelly. “Didn’t expect a show.”

You yanked a towel from the rack, wrapping it around yourself as your voice finally broke through. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he whispered, eyes never leaving yours. “But now that I am, I don’t think I’m leaving.”

The towel barely clung to your damp skin as you backed into the tiled wall, pulse thudding in your ears. You didn’t know what terrified you more the fact that Jeon Jungkook was standing in your bathroom, or that your body didn’t feel afraid at all.

He didn’t lunge. Didn’t move fast. Just stared, rain still dripping from his lashes. You swallowed. “What do you want?”

He tilted his head, taking in your flushed face, the curve of your neck still glistening with water.

“To not be caught,” he said, then added, “And maybe, five more seconds of this view.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t cover up more. Something in his gaze made you feel exposed and powerful all at once.

“I should call the cops,” you whispered, testing him. He stepped closer. You didn’t step away.

“You could,” he said, voice deep. “But by the time they get here, I’ll be gone. And maybe you’ll miss me.”

You hated how calm he was. How much he didn’t seem like the monster the news had painted him to be.

“Why here?” you asked. “Why my house?”

“I was running through the backyards. Yours had the only open door.” Then he glanced around the small bathroom, tension tightening in his shoulders. “I won’t hurt you. But I need to stay a few hours. Until it’s safe to move.”

“What if I say no?” you challenged.

Jungkook’s eyes darkened. “Then I’ll tie you up, Gently. You’re wet already.” You gasped & He smirked.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes shamelessly scanning you up and down.

“You can finish your shower,” he said smoothly. “Don’t let me stop you.”

You blinked. “You want me to just… keep showering? With you standing there?”

He smirked, tongue grazing the inside of his cheek. “It’s not like I haven’t already seen everything.”

Heat crawled down your neck. You should have been furious, you should have screamed, thrown something, told him to get out. But you didn’t. You held his gaze. “Turn around.”

He didn’t move. “No.”

Your chest rose and fell with your shaky breath. “You’re insane.”

“Probably.” His eyes trailed slowly, deliberately, over the curve of your bare shoulder. “But you’re not screaming. And you haven’t told me to leave. Why is that?” You hated how right he was.

The room was too quiet except for the soft patter of water still running. Finally, with a defiant lift of your chin, you dropped the towel. His breath hitched barely, but you saw it.

You stepped back into the shower, glass fogging again but not hiding anything. You let the water hit your skin, your heart hammering harder than ever. You could feel his stare. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But you heard the tension in every breath he took. You tilted your head slightly and said over your shoulder, “Enjoying the show, fugitive?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You have no idea.”

You pretended he wasn’t there, that a criminal wasn’t watching you bathe like it was the last beautiful thing he’d ever see. Then you heard it. The rustling of clothes. A hoodie dropping to the tile. The slow unbuckling of a belt. Your breath hitched. You didn’t turn around. But you could feel it, heat behind you. Closer and Closer. Then the sound of the shower door sliding open behind you. He stepped in bare.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him over your shoulder. Jeon Jungkook stood in the fog with tattoos trailing down his arms, chest rising slowly. He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask permission. Just stood behind you, the heat of his body hovering an inch from yours. Close enough that you could feel his breath at the back of your neck. His fingers brushed a strand of wet hair from your shoulder, letting them linger far too long.

"You let me in,” he murmured, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.” You turned your head, eyes locked to his.

“I don’t even know you,” you whispered.

He leaned in, his lips nearly grazing your ear. “Then maybe you should get to know what I feel like first.”

You didn’t move, you couldn’t. Jungkook’s hand rose slowly, fingers skimming along your arm, trailing up to your shoulder. His touch wasn’t rough, It was careful and deliberate. Like he was testing how far you’d let him go. His chest pressed against your back, bare,  Wet and Solid.

You sucked in a sharp breath as his hands slid down your waist, gripping you just firm enough to make your knees wobble. “You should tell me to stop,” he said, voice low and steady against your ear. “One word, and I’ll walk out of this shower. Out of your life.” But You stayed silent.

“Thought so,” he murmured, his lips over your shoulder before he finally kissed it slowly, possessively. You reached back without thinking, your hand finding his thigh, then sliding up, He groaned. “This isn’t how I planned tonight,” you whispered. He smiled against your skin. “Me neither. I was just supposed to hide.” He turned you gently, until your back pressed against the cool tile, and he was all you could see. His gaze darkened as it swept over you, droplets sliding between your curves, your lips parted and breathless.

“But now,” he said, leaning in, lips brushing yours without claiming them, “I want to taste the one thing that’s not mine.” Then he kissed you. His lips were on yours, but it didn’t stop there. Once Jungkook kissed you, devouring, desperate. As if you were the first warm body he’d touched in years, and the last one he ever would.

He trailed from your mouth to your jaw, tongue flicking your skin before he bit gently. You gasped, fingers tangling in his wet hair as his mouth found your neck, sucking a mark you’d feel for days.

“Jungkook—” you whispered, but he didn’t stop. His hands held you firmly against the tile, keeping you right where he wanted you, and his lips were everywhere, hot, wet kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, each touch setting you on fire. When he reached your chest, he paused, dark eyes flicking up, as if silently asking for one last chance to stop. But you arched toward him. That was all the permission he needed. His mouth closed over your breast, warm tongue circling before he sucked just enough to make your breath catch and your hips shift toward him.

He took his time worshipping every inch, hands never idle, roaming your sides, your thighs, gripping your hips so tightly.

You’d let a criminal into your house. Now he was breaking into your body like he belonged there.

Without warning, Jungkook’s hands slid down to your thighs and before you could speak,he lifted you, your back pressed flat against the cool tile as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. You gasped, your arms tightening around his shoulders for balance, your bare, slick body pinned completely to his. He looked at you like he was seconds from losing control.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he rasped, eyes locked on yours as water trickled down both your bodies. “You opened that door. You let me see you… like this.” His hips pressed closer, the hard line of him nestling perfectly against your heat, making you whimper.

“And now,” he growled, voice low and wrecked, “I’m going to ruin you for every safe man you’ve ever known.”

He dipped his head, mouth claiming your breast again, harder this time tongue swirling, teeth grazing, his hands spreading you open around him as his hips rocked just enough to make you tremble. Every breath you took came out in moans.

He moved with slow, devastating purpose, grinding into you, his lips never staying in one place, cheek, throat, chest, jaw and all while holding you up like you weighed nothing. “Say my name,” he demanded.

“Jungkook…” He groaned, forehead pressing to yours. “Louder.”

“Jungkook.” A wicked smile tugged at his lips. And then he shifted just slightly the tension in your core tightening to something unbearable, something you’d never felt with anyone else. Your back hit the tile again as Jungkook’s grip on your thighs tightened.

“Keep your legs right there,” he growled.

You barely nodded before he shifted his hips and pushed in. You gasped, not from pain, but from how deep, how sudden, how intentional he moved. Jungkook filled you completely, stretching you to the edge of pleasure.

He groaned low in your ear, head falling against your shoulder. “So damn tight. Like your body was made for me.”

Your fingers clawed down his back, nails raking skin slick with water as he thrust again, harder this time, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing between the shower walls. There was nothing slow about him now. He set a brutal, punishing rhythm, each movement dragging moans from your throat, each snap of his hips pushing you higher. His hands guided your body like he owned it, fingers digging into your waist, forcing you to take every inch of him.

“You feel that?” he muttered, his lips brushing your temple. “No one else will ever make you feel like this. I’ll make sure of it.”

You whimpered his name, head tipping back as he sucked hard at your neck leaving another mark, another reminder that you were his. Jungkook growled, one hand slipping between your bodies to draw a slow, deliberate circle over your most sensitive spot. “Come for me,” he demanded, breath ragged. “Now.” And with one more thrust you did. Your whole body clenched around him, trembling as he groaned your name then buried himself deep once more as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, the only sound was your breathing and the rush of the shower. Then he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I was just supposed to hide,” he whispered. “But now I think I’ll never leave.”

[theladysunami]

Now that I’ve read ‘The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish’ I’m really itching for something similar but Binggeyuan flavored, that includes Bingge’s harem!

(A more direct adaptation already exists: ‘The Proud Immortal Demon’s Pet Fish’ by BeanFiend).

I’m thinking something along the lines of Shen Yuan transmigrating into one of the forgotten wives’ pets, a cute PIDW monster cat, ferret, or fox of some sort.

His experiences in the inner court result in him unilaterally deciding to help his poor forgotten mistress (*cough*and-ultimately-Bingge*cough*) by finding her friends, resolving all the ‘stupid’ harem drama, and raising Bing-ge’s kids properly.

Of course, trying to do most things while a small fuzzy animal is quite the challenge, and cultivating a human form isn’t easy even without the fear of being discovered and executed for infiltrating the harem as a man.

Once he does figure out the transformation part (mostly), he still has problems since the System didn’t find it necessary to provide an animal knowledge of traditional characters, writing via brush and ink, properly wearing xianxia robes, or any other type of human skill.

That and transforming doesn’t come with clothes!!!

Most of the clothes Shen Yuan can ‘borrow’ belong to wives and female servants, and he’s always in such a rush to complete whatever task he’s taken upon himself —before being stopped and arrested— that he can’t just stand around experimenting with the intricacies of xianxia robes and grooming. He ends up spending most of his time in human form running around looking like a perpetually bedraggled maid or low-ranked concubine.

Bing-ge is bemused by the glimpses and brief meetings he gets with this strange ‘woman,’ and wonders if she’s a wife he’s forgotten about or a maid he should wife up at the earliest opportunity.

That’s all I have for now. The idea of Shen Yuan accidentally endearing himself to the wives and kids, and seducing Bing-ge, all while looking like a bedraggled lunatic, is just really funny to me.

Who wouldn’t love the crazy man who somehow knows the powers and weaknesses of every beast, potion, and secret artifact in existence, but not how clothes or hairstyles work?