#(​i am moving into a studio flat)

[alonetogether]

today i become a studio flat bitch

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining using a secluded space on base to do some yoga away from the 141, only to realize Ghost's been watching disapprovingly the whole time.

Like, what you lack in raw strength compared to the boys, you have in agility. You're not nearly as rigid. You're flexible, and it's only because you take the time to work on it. You have several methods but dancing and yoga are by far your favorite.

Neither hobby you can enjoy on base much, because well...you always get stared at. So, you take it upon yourself to clear out part of old studio space used for storage. It's kind of crappy, with cracked tile and dust bunnies galore, but it'll do. You play some music in your earbuds and do your beginning stretches on your mat.

When you're in the zone you're in the zone. You end up in a place far away and yet still within yourself. The burning stretch from some of your maneuvers feels so good you nearly groan. You get lost in the personal meditation. One certain position uses a specific pair of muscles in your lower back. It takes you a moment to realize why it makes you gasp. You bite your lip and decide to take a short break.

As you untangle your body you feel something's off. You're physically fine, but your heart starts to race. Your stomach lurches. You move to stand, suddenly startled by seemingly nothing.

"Yer doing it wrong."

And just like that Ghost makes himself known from behind a shelf. He's in his workout clothes, which isn't much but some slinky basketball shorts and a tank top. Black of course. His mask is the soft one he uses when he's not on the field.

You scoff at him, still feeling on edge but also relieved at no immediate threat.

"You do yoga?" You ask incredulously. "Fine, big guy. Show me how it's done."

He rolls out a mat and gestures for you to copy him. It's a simple move, one you've perfected. And yet he still shakes his head at your form. You try it again. Wrong. Again. Wrong.

"Where am I going wrong?"

You don't expect him to reach over and grab your back leg. He pulls it out further. You stumble and he rights you with the same arm. He tuts at you, but he's the reason you're off balance.

"Lift your back. No. Higher. Your hip should be down."

Next thing you know he's behind you, his large hands making your body twist and bend. You end up in the same position as you'd been in earlier, but this time you can really feel the stretch. Maybe he was right, you were doing it wrong.

You tilt your back up and feel the familiar stretch. It's better than you've ever been able to get it on your own. You can't help the soft groan that leaves your lips. The last time those muscles had been used was before you joined the 141, when you'd still had a boyfrie-

Two hands grab at those spots. Large thumbs work circles into the areas. Despite yourself, you moan. This was going a bit too far but...

The more he kneads the more you fall to your knees. You can't hold the position with your back up anymore. You practically collapse onto the mat, ass up, Ghost knelt over you.

He still doesn't let up. His thumbs dig into those circles hard enough it should hurt but instead you only feel bliss. You bite your lip, it feels so fucking good. Eventually he relents, and stops digging into you. You whine at the absence.

"That feels so good." You groan, voice sounding way too needy for what just occurred.

"M' glad." Ghost huffs amusement evident in his tone.

Ghost grabs you and flips you over onto your back. He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far forward towards your head as he can without hurting you. He does the same to the other. It's a weird position, but it's not far off from some of the other ones you're used to. It burns but it also feels good. Considering you're flat on your back, you feel supported.

You smile up at him, a little breathless but also happy that he's willing to help you out. Yoga did not seem like something any where near his wheelhouse.

"I didn't know you liked yoga. How did you learn about this stuff?" You ask, using your own arms to hold your legs in position as Ghost gets up higher on his knees.

Ghost huffs behind his mask as he looks down at you. He narrows his eyes, his head blocking out the white light of the overhead flourescents. You feel a hand slide between the material of your shorts and the curve of your ass.

"The Kama Sutra."

[ghosts-cyphera]

reader getting jealous when she’s seen pornstar!Ghost’s previous work with other girls even if she knows it’s irrational to be jealous since it’s his job 🤭

you chewed on your bottom lip as you flicked through photo after photo. each of them was with a different girl looking up at him or kissing him on the cheek. in some of them, his arm was draped over their shoulder, or they were perched on his lap with twinkling bright eyes.

most of the girls you knew. you'd worked scenes together or met them at work events. they were all lovely, and beautiful, and clearly his type too, judging by the grin on his features.

"christ."

it was silly. of course it was.

it was his job, just as it was yours: you knew that getting dicked down day after day did not mean anything.

it had not meant anything. 

not until you’d allowed yourself to get used to the way he looked at you, his eyes full of adoration. the way he touched you, like the mere permission to run his fingers along your skin was something special. you had gotten used to the way he made you feel special. 

and suddenly, it had all begun to mean something.

the realization had of course followed soon after. you were not any different from the rest, were you?

the fans all shipped you, yet there was not a single picture of you on his social media. the studio praised you for the money that the two of you were bringing in, yet they kept scheduling him with other girls.

girls who looked at him with the exact same twinkle in their eyes that you knew had to possess your gaze whenever you looked at him.

stupid. your fingers swiped through the photos faster in a surge of something bitter: something childish in the way that your lip moved into a pout. it was all stupid, all freaking—

"thank fuck you're here." the low rumble of a familiar voice startled you, and from the surprise, your fingers slipped: the betrayal followed by your phone falling. 

flat across your face.

with a groan, you listened to it clatter against the floor of the common space of the studio, yet as soon as you pushed off the couch to reach for it you realized it to be too late. 

ghost's fingers had wrapped around it, the man now grinning from ear to ear as he dangled it between two of his fingers. "if I didn’t know you any better—“

“ghost.”

“—I’d think you were doin' somethin' sneaky." 

you shot him a warning glare as your fingers rubbed your aching nose. "give it here."

he had never been nosy: never dabbled into your privacy, and you could tell that this time too it was not his intention in the slightest. yet you could not blame him for recognizing himself on the dim screen of your phone, now could you?

fuck.

"darlin'," he paused, fingers still wrapped around your phone. his gaze flicked to yours as he raised a brow. "really?"

"just give it back."

with a grin—nearly boyish in the way his eyes twinkled—he tossed the phone back at you. "you shooting today, stalker?"

"just finished." 

ghost raised an amused brow. “did you, though?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the implication: at the knowing smirk on his features as he uncorked a bottle of water and brought it to his lips. he looked casual like this: leaning against an armchair opposite from you, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt.

“can’t really say that we just wrapped up either, now can I?”

“fuckin’ rawdogging my girl, eh?”

“your girl, am I?” you fell back on the couch, gaze headed towards the ceiling of the penthouse as you bit down your silly little grin. "funny considering that that's what he called me. inspired by our vids, I assume."

“who’d you shoot with?”

“graves,” you mused. 

“ah so, no.” you could hear the grin on his features. “you did not actually finish.”

god. 

your laugh was bright as you rolled your eyes. “if I did not know you any better I’d think that all this—,” you chuckled, “was jealousy. you’re not—jealous, are you?”

"nothin' to be jealous about, is there?"

"it's just work."

"opposed to what we have, eh?" his grin was playful, yet as your gaze met his, there was something else too. something deeper in the way that his eyes studied you. 

what, you did not know. before you'd managed to place a finger on it, he'd pushed off the armchair. 

now walking to you.

"so what if I were a little jealous?" his voice was a warm chuckle, and he crouched on the floor next to you. "would you feed my ego? would you go 'n tell me?"

"tell you—?"

"look me in the eyes," he tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice low, "and tell me, darlin', that graves fucked you like I fuck you."

"no one fucks me like—," your words died down with a laugh: your lips parted before you'd managed to bite down the words. "I'm not gonna go and feed your ego, ghost."

"already did," he grinned. no, he downright glowed, as he took a seat on the floor next to you. "y'know, I do sorta wish it was you today."

the corners of your lips tugged into a warm smile, and you propped your head against your hand. "who is it?"

"shel."

"shel's lovely."

"yeah," he nodded. "yeah, but she's not you, is she?"

you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt your cheeks turning warmer by the second. "it's not—," you then managed out a soft laugh. "it's just work."

"doesn't feel like fuckin' work with us, though, does it?"

"no," you hummed. "it doesn't."

where your sudden courage to address any of this was coming from, you did not know. yet as you saw the switch in his eyes: the touch of something warm, of something relieved...

"darlin', I wanted you to know I—"

a call for his name, echoing from the hallways of the penthouse cut his words short, and he pushed off the floor with a chuckle.

"fuckin' A."

"duty calls." you smiled. "I'll see you—"

"tomorrow," he grinned. "oh and—," ghost wet his lips with a chuckle, slightly breathless, "it was kate who stopped me from posting our photos, y'know? on social media. somethin' about the marketing team thinkin' it's better to—they want us to be exclusive. as in," he rushed to speak with a shake of his head, "for the website. so that to see what everyone is fussing about—"

oh.

"right," you managed as you fought back the bright smile that threatened to take over your features. "right, alright. so if it wasn't for kate—"

"sweetheart, I'd have you as my goddamn profile picture just to see more of you."

huh.

a call for his name—this time audibly frustrated—echoed across the space once more, and you grinned. 

"go before they fire you for keeping them waiting."

"your loss, eh?"

"only financially," you smirked—your laugh warm as you watched him bump into the doorframe on his way out. and as you unlocked your phone, the grin that ghost had in the photo on your screen—smiling next to a girl—seemed to suddenly dim in comparison with the way he had just looked at you.

a/n: giggling, blushing, kicking my feet. I’m so goddamn soft for these two, lmao help. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / I'm so freaking here for all your thoughts about him!! 💌

[jayrockin]

Hi. I'm very late to Webcomic Day. The concept this year was to nicely showcase what the progression of your work looks like through layers of completion on a single page, but because of the way I am, this is not very easy. The first thing I do is sketch the page. This can be anything between thumbnail scribbles, nice pencil drawings with panels, or a bunch of floating character headshots with speech bubbles on a random piece of paper. I then scan these and add them to the page document. I usually do digital tweaks to the scans until I am satisfied with the panel layout and composition. I add vector speech bubbles at this stage too. The goal is (was... it's done) to make the entire book comprehensibly readable, so editors can read it and suggest changes before I put in actual elbow grease. Second stage is modelling important background elements in Blender. I'm not very good at this, mostly because I am new to Blender and terribly impatient. My models are usually a vague sketch of a hardscape environment that I then draw clutter over. My vehicle models are much nicer and that's because they were commissioned from people who have years of learned skill that I don't. Third step is when I actually start the finished page. I usually draw the character lines and flats (unshaded tones) before anything else because I find it fun and easy. I don't recommend this, it sometimes makes the next step inconvenient. I frequently start flats or shading before I've finished lines, because I get bored of doing lines. I don't recommend this either. Last step is backgrounds, and etc. If I need a Blender model, first I load an .fbx copy into the Clip Studio file and position it; then I often have to resize and reposition the characters I've already drawn, and then I grind out all the background lines and tones. Usually shade the characters around this time. This is also the time when I finally fill in miscellaneous stuff I've been dreading; like conlangs, technical details of equipment and props, conlangs, time conversions, and computer screen displays. Then the page is done. And I move on to the next one. Someday, perhaps, I will be done with all of them (so that I can work on the next book). Hope this was insightful. Take a peek at some of the other great artists making online comics, who posted in the #WebcomicsDay tag yesterday. Read Runaway to the Stars over here.

[babyleostuff]

SUPER DRIVE

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: the one where your boyfriend tries teaching you one of their choreographies, but you end up in the hospital

pairing: idol!hoshi x fem!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship | word count: 2k

warnings | a couple of swear words, and one suggestive joke

“Are you trying to get me killed?” 

Having a boyfriend who was a dancer was a dream and a nightmare at once. You loved watching him on stage and in practice, how he changed into a whole different person when he worked on a new choreography, working his ass off until dusk - you felt so proud whenever he ran straight to you at the backstage after they won an award.

But right now you wanted to curse him more than ever. This wasn’t the first time Hoshi tried to teach you one of their choreographies, but it had to be the first time that he wanted you to fall face flat into the ground. 

“How am I even supposed to move my foot like that?” You looked at his reflection in the mirror, horrified. “Oh come on, it’s not that hard, you just have to,” and then proceeded to make the most confusing moves known to humankind.

Your boyfriend was an excellent teacher, that was not up for debate, but it seemed that he forgot you weren’t a dancer - you struggled with learning the choreo for Darling, and now he wanted you to dance to Super like it was Macarena. 

“Baby, slow down, please,” you whined, pulling at his arms to stop him from moving. “I know you’re this cool super star dancer and shit, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, I’m not,” you pointed to yourself, looking at him with a serious expression.

He laughed, pulling you to a sweaty embrace, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’ll go a bit slower ‘kay?” He looked down at you with a smile and you rolled your eyes, because you knew it wouldn’t help much. “What are you smirking at Kwon Soonyoung?” 

“Nothing,” he murmured, running his knuckle across your cheek. “Very funny,” you snorted, pushing him away, though he didn’t move much. Damn you muscles. “Keep joking like that, and you won’t get dinner for the next month.” 

“I could live without that,” he smiled, turning back to the mirror. 

“Okay then, I won’t suck yo-,” 

“Okay, okay, I get it. Let’s get back to dancing.” 

You smirked watching how his ears turned slightly red, as he tried to concentrate on the choreo. 

The sun had long set when you finally got the first steps and could easily dance the chorus of the song, which earned you a total of fifteen kisses from Soonyoung messily placed all across your face. “I told you you could do it,” he couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you dance more comfortably now.

Soonyoung loved dancing as much as he loved you - he breathed and lived for performing, and he never thought he’d find someone who’d be as supportive as you were. Even if you had to come to the studio in the middle of the night because he was having a mental breakdown - you never complained, you were there for him through thick and thin, and he’d never be able to thank you enough for that. 

You were his comfort place, his safe haven, and Sooyoung would do anything to make you happy in return. 

But almost killing you - that wasn't on his list.  

“Okay, babe, let’s teach you the next part.” 

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. You weren't sure if it was because you had been dancing for the past couple of hours, or if it was just because you were hungry, but you felt your vision blur a bit. But that didn’t matter - your boyfriend looked over the moon as he showed you the next steps, trying to take it as slow as he could so you could match his pace. 

Besides, you were sure you'd get better in a second.

“Did you get it?” Soonyoung turned around, his sweaty black bangs sticking to his forehead. If you weren’t feeling so bad you’d run your hand through his hair, pushing them back from his eyes. He always scrunched his eyes adorably whenever you did that. “Baby, you okay?” your boyfriend asked, this time more concerned.  

“Of course, don’t worry,” you tried to sound as convincing as possible. You didn’t want to cut your date short just because you were feeling a bit off. With their tight schedule and overseas trips you weren’t sure when would be the next time you’d get so much time for yourselves, and if you told him you weren’t feeling good, he’d immediately make you go home. “I just had to take a short break,” you smiled. 

Although Hoshi didn’t seem that convinced, looking a bit sceptical back at you, he resumed his explanation on the choreo as you tried to follow along. A couple of minutes passed and you actually started to feel a bit better, you even went back to bickering with him, as he laughed at you failing miserably at a certain step. 

“Next time,” you said, gasping for air. “We’re going to have a cooking date, and then we’ll see who’ll be the one laughing, you moron.” 

“Hey! You didn’t have to agree to this,” your boyfriend whined, looking at you with the biggest boba ball eyes. “I’m just kidding, baby, you know I love dancing with you. I just didn’t realise how extreme this choreo is.” 

“Let’s just finish up this part, and go home, yeah?” 

You nodded, as Soonyoung placed a kiss on your forehead, caressing the back of your head. “You’re doing such a good job, baby. No matter how much I laugh at you, you’re fucking amazing,” you scrunched your nose at his corniness, as he pecked your forehead again. 

And that’s when the blurriness came back. With nausea this time. 

Now you were sure you needed to eat something or else you’d collapse, but that would mean you’d have to leave the studio because neither of you thought about bringing any snack with you. You just decided to push through it, a couple of minutes wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. 

“And then you do the jump, but watch your feet because you have to kind of twist them like this when you land,” Hoshi showed you the footwork and how you were supposed to finish the step, looking at you carefully through the mirror. “Got it, babe?” 

You nodded your head, though you weren’t sure how much of what he had just shown you you got. Soonyoung pulled out his phone, turning on the music, totally oblivious to how much you were struggling next to him. 

For a while you were doing great - you followed Hoshi’s every step as best as you could, paying attention to your footwork and arms. You could do this, it was almost over. 

But the moment your foot touched the floor after the jump, you felt a sudden ache in your ankle radiating up your entire leg and before you knew what was happening, you fell unconscious to the floor. A panicked “baby” was the last thing you heard before everything turned black. 

Soonyoung knew something was wrong, he was your boyfriend - of course he knew when you were unwell, he was too in love with you not to notice it. If he only knew how badly you were feeling he’d carry your stubborn ass home himself, because he knew that there was no way you’d leave the studio, you’d just keep on repeating that you were fine. 

The plan was to finish the last part of the dance, hug the shit out of you as a reward, and drive you home, so you could eat and rest, but everything went to shit as he saw how your foot twisted in a weird angle, as it met the ground after the jump. Hoshi had never been so grateful for his quick reflexes, because the moment he saw your body unconsciously fall to the floor, he rushed towards you, catching you in his arms. 

"Baby? Baby, please open your eyes," Hoshi felt his arms shaking as he gently lifted your head off the floor to place it on his lap. "Baby," his voice cracked with helplessness. What was he supposed to do now? Wait until you wake up, take you to the hospital, or call an ambulance? 

The only thing that kept him from going completely crazy was the slight rise and fall of your chest - you were breathing. 

"Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad, you idiot?" he sighed, brushing your hair away from your forehead. 

The cold December air was blowing through the open window and Soonyoung could feel the goosebumps on your skin, but he didn't want to close it, you had to have some access to fresh air - it was the least he could do - but he also didn't want you to freeze. He quickly took off his flannel shirt and covered your body with it. Maybe it wasn't the warmest, but at least because it was a few sizes too big for you, it covered your whole body.

"Hey, baby? Please wake up," he whispered, his lips against your forehead. He kissed it tenderly, and in that moment, Soonyoung promised himself that when you woke up, he wouldn't leave your side for the next week. He would follow you everywhere, he would be as clingy as a puppy, but there is no chance that you would get rid of him. 

He had no idea how long it was before your eyes finally slowly opened. "W-what happened?" You croaked, trying to get up. “Hey hey, not so fast,” Soonyoung scolded you in, holding you down so you were still lying on his lap. "You overworked yourself and fainted. Why didn't you tell me right away how bad you felt?"

You sighed and looked at his worried face. It was obvious how concerned he was. "I didn't want to worry you, and besides, I knew that if I said something, you would tell me to go home. And... I thought nothing that terrible would happen," you admitted.

"Of course I'd tell you to go home, you little genius,” he snickered, rubbing soothing circles onto your hip. “I can't believe you're the one who's always mad at me for working too much and when you're the one who's worse!"

You would have agreed with him if it weren't for the pain in your ankle that wouldn't go away.

“Could you check my ankle, honey? It hurts,” you said, and quickly noticed how your boyfriend’s brows furrowed even more. “I’m sure it’s okay, it just stings a bit,” you tried reassuring him. 

You heard him curse silently, and you were about to ask him what was wrong, when you felt pain shoot through your ankle, making you whine because of the ache. “Shit, we have to get you to the hospital,” he said, gently laying your foot down, so he wouldn’t cause any more pain. 

“What do you mean?” You asked concerned, and tried lifting yourself up to look at your foot. “Lay down or I’m going to tie you down,” he said, and you decided to do as he said because you felt sorry for how shaken he seemed. “Soonyoung, baby, look at me,” you said, running your hand over his cheek. "No, no, we have to call an ambulance a-and they will take you and it won't hurt anymore, I p-promise."

“Soonyoung, calm down!" You had to raise your voice slightly because it looked like your boyfriend was about to cry. "Everything's fine, it’s just a sprained ankle."

“Excuse me for freaking out, I only thought you were dead!” He yelled, tugging at his hair, making a mess on his head. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and you seriously had to do something to calm him down.

"But Soonyoung, you can take me to the hospital, we don't have to call an ambulance," he looked at you, surprised for some reason. "You want me to drive you?"

“Yes,” now you were the one who was confused. Why was he so surprised that you wanted him to drive you to the hospital?

"So you trust me behind the wheel?"

"Baby, what do you mean? Of course I do," you said immediately, grabbing his hand.

"And you're not afraid to come with me?"

“Soonyoung, what are you talking about?”

"I just feel like not everyone feels safe with me driving, and I thought you'd feel better taking the ambulance," he said quietly, looking down. As if the pain from your ankle moved to your heart, you grabbed his hand tighter and brought your joined hands to your chest.

"There is no other person in the world with whom I feel as safe as with you."

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @f4iryjjosh @isabellah29 @hafsah-ali @mrswonwooo @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @chillseo @bangantokchy

[tofupixel]

Do you have any advice on how to get into pixeling larger scenes, or how you go about the process? I dabble in pixel art occasionally and am interested in pursuing it more, but whenever I try large scenes I always tend to fall flat

Love your art, by the way!

thank you!

my first step i always go get a ton of references. i think if you are struggling with pixel scenes it can help you to get some pixel art references too. for example if you arent sure how to render a tree, look it up on pixeljoint hall of fame im sure you can find something that inspires you.

this is the moodboard for my current knight crowley/statue azi piece im working on (software is called pureref btw. i have a dedicated monitor just for this but you can do transparency and overlay it if you lack space)

i think this is mostly preference but i always begin working with large areas of value/colour rather than an actual line sketch

i usually only save the wip process if im sending it to clients, so here is an example of how i worked through a commission

at this point im just going for the vibes. colour is more important and shape/size and having random pixels everywhere doesnt matter cos u can just remove them later !!

its kind of an anomaly/doomsday thing so i wanted the red sky and chaos all over

i work really quickly at this point and try for energy

just beginning to work my way through and detail things up. im still changing things around and adding more stuff in different places. its digital art so you can change things however you like, just keep moving forward

final ver sent to client after some revisions. pixel art is 99% rendering so you just need to keep pushing forward

i also want to say i did like 3+ years of sporadic studies. mostly studio ghibli and shishkin. if you have someone who inspires you you can study their work and figure out how they do it.

it cant be overstated how many of these i have done lol and im still not even close to where i want to be (its a process)

anyway sorry for the long post but you really should go for it. ive done the same concept like 3 times over my career (so far) cos i enjoyed it and want to come back to it now that im a little better. so u dont have to make it perfect the first time but doing it is better than not doing it!

sorry for the long post but i kinda got carried away anyway lmk if u want more specific tips i like talking about pixel art :--3 GL with your art

[bookyeom]

pairing: hoshi x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, reader is a bad dancer?

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

dance with me by sarah kang ft. cody dear

'cause boy when i'm alone with you you make me wanna sway, wanna move

dance with me 나랑 춤출래? i don't care about where or when pick a song that never ends

You and Soonyoung have been stuck in some weird, uncharted territory for months now. 

He’s your friend, but he’s also so much more than that. You know it, and you’re pretty sure he knows it, too.  

You’d do anything for him, really. So when he asks you to meet him at the studio before you head home so that he can show you something new he’s working on, you don’t hesitate. Even though it’s midnight, and you’re exhausted from hours spent studying in the library – because Soonyoung is calling.

You can hear music as you approach the practice room, recognizing it as the song for the dance he’s been rehearsing for his final exam, so you’re surprised when you don’t see him through the windows at all. You turn the handle on the door to the room tentatively, opening it just enough to peek inside. And you smile.

Soonyoung is lying flat on his back near the wall closest to you, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling. You watch as he marks the movements in small gestures from his spot on the floor, bobbing his head to the beat, as if he’s taking only half a break. You’ve been friends for quite some time now, and you know him well enough to know that his mind won’t settle until he’s perfected what he’s practicing. He’ll rest his body if he has to, if it makes him, but even then, you know he’s always going over choreo in his head. Like right now. 

You wait until the song is finished, until there’s quiet, and then you speak. “I was invited here to see some dancing, but it looks like I’m in the wrong place.”

Soonyoung’s head falls back onto the floor as he looks over, a grin spreading across his lips when he meets your eyes. He’s looking at you upside down, and it makes you laugh. Then you’re suddenly not laughing anymore, because within seconds he’s pushed to his feet and is bounding over to wrap you in a warm, sweaty hug. Now, your heart is racing.

“Hi!” He beams, moving back to squeeze you by the biceps. 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you manage. 

“I was just taking a break,” he explains, and you nod. “Don’t worry, that’s the first one I’ve taken all evening–”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I wasn’t worried before, but now I am, if you're telling me that’s the only break you’ve taken from dancing in the last four hours.”

He just laughs, letting go of you, and you roll your eyes. “Go sit over there, I’ll run it again. I don’t need you to help with much… There’s just this one part in the chorus where it feels a little stiff. Just tell me if anything feels,” he gestures into the air vaguely, “off.”

You nod, mock saluting him as you take your place on one of the chairs scattered along the wall on the other side of the room.

You watch as he sets up the song again, your cheeks warming when he begins shrugging off his hoodie. He’s turned away, his back and shoulders now on full display for you in the tank he’s wearing, and you can’t help but stare. You abruptly look down at your feet when he turns back towards you, the first beats of the song beginning to play. You look at him again as he zones in, squaring his shoulders and getting into position as he watches himself in the mirror. 

You don’t have a single rhythmic bone in your body. Watching anyone dance is mind blowing to you, but especially Soonyoung. He’s incredible. Why he wants your advice on his dancing is beyond you, but he always insists, and you’ve never been good at denying him anything.

And why would you even want to deny this? This — a front row seat to one of the most beautiful works of art you’ve ever seen. Soonyoung takes your breath away all the time, but especially like this. 

You’re so caught up in his movements that you don’t even recognize when the chorus hits, when it gets to the part you’re supposed to pay extra attention to. You’re in a trance, only snapping out of it when he makes one final turn, and the song ends. You blink, watching as Soonyoung returns to himself, the performer in him calming with every breath he takes. He lets his shoulders drop, lets his body relax, and then he lets out a loud sigh of relief. He crosses the room and joins you, falling into the chair next to yours, and drops his head onto your shoulder. 

You remind yourself to breathe.

“So?” He’s still breathless. You suddenly remember why you’re there, why he asked you to come and what he asked you to do, and you flush when you realize that you were too dazed to really notice if anything was amiss. 

“This is your best one yet,” you tell him honestly. Which is the truth, because despite your ogling, you would have noticed if anything was glaringly wrong.

“Really?”

You nod. “You’re amazing, Soonyoung.”

The words come out much softer than you intended, much more honest, and you can only hope he doesn’t read into any of it. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you’re running out of reasons not to panic when he says, “Dance with me?”

Your eyes widen as he lifts his head and turns to you with a smile. 

“What?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder and stands up, holding out a hand for you to take. “Come on,” he grins, wiggling his outstretched fingers when you don't move. “I’ll teach you some of the easier moves.”

You let him pull you up, even as you continue to protest. “Soonyoung, you know—“

“Come on,” he insists, “you can do it!”

You groan. “I really can’t, you know this! I can’t dance, Soonyoung, I—”

“You can’t dance well,” he corrects, and you level him with a glare. He just grins wider as he adds, “but I know you like to! I’ve seen you on our nights out.”

You willfully ignore how his last comment makes you feel, trying desperately not to flush crimson red at his observation. At the fact that he’s noticed these things. “Yeah, so you already know I look like an idiot.”

“You look,” Soonyoung counters, “like you’re having a lot of fun. I’ve seen the way you smile when you’re dancing with your friends.”

You try once more. “No one is judging me there.”

“No one is judging you here, either.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because you can’t argue with that. You know he would never judge you – for anything. You huff, narrowing your brows as you give him a mock glare, but your shoulders fall in defeat. Soonyoung giggles – your favourite sound – and leads you into the middle of the room.

He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to guide you through what he claims is one of the easier steps to master, and to your surprise, you actually kind of get the hang of it. He’s a good teacher, you note, because of course he is, and you feel a bit less anxious with every “good job!” and cheer he sends your way. 

You continue to practice the same small sequence for a bit. When Soonyoung places both arms on your shoulders and stares you directly in the eyes, you stop breathing for a second.

“Okay,” he says, “this is the last move of this part, but it’s a bit hard.” He draws his lip between his teeth, and you watch it happen, because what else are you supposed to do? You think he notices, because his mouth quirks up at the side, but he doesn’t say anything except for, “You up for it?”

You don’t think you say yes, but he begins to teach you, anyway. And he’s right – this last move is hard. He continues to encourage you, and you continue to try and try and try, and –

You let out an ungodly squeal when you finally land in the right spot, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes! I nailed that!” 

You try one more time, two more times, and it’s not perfect — but you do it. 

You don’t even notice the way Soonyoung is looking at you until after you do the move for the third time. When you do, your heart leaps into your throat. He’s got his arms crossed as he smiles over at you, soft, and you think there’s a pink flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. You try and tell yourself it’s from the dancing, even though you know it’s you that’s been exerting yourself for the last half hour, not him. He looks so fond, and happy, and there’s something else you can’t quite put a finger on. All you know is that it’s making your entire body warm. 

“What?” You ask as steadily as you can manage.

He just shakes his head. Then he abruptly looks down as if shaking himself out of a stupor, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you’re frozen in place. What was that all about?

“High five,” he offers, cutting of your train of thought, and it takes you a second to register what he’s asking for. 

And when your hand lifts to meet his, he doesn’t let go. 

It all happens at once. His fingers intertwine with yours, his other hand finds your waist, and suddenly he’s so close to you that you forget how to think. You know there’s no mistaking the shakiness in the exhale that leaves you. 

“Is this part of the choreo?” You finally manage, voice barely a whisper, and Soonyoung lets out a soft breath.

“No,” he admits, his voice low.

His hand slides around to your lower back, testing the waters further. His other hand falls from yours, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort before he pulls you in even closer, like he can’t stop himself.

“What about this?” Your voice is so, so quiet.

“No.”

His voice is soft in the emptiness of the practice room around you. Your bodies are flush now, chest to chest, and you think that if he wasn’t holding you up, your knees would buckle. His eyes still haven’t left yours, waiting, though you don’t know for what. His gaze only breaks from yours to wander across your face; your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You can’t help the soft exhale that leaves you when his eyes find your lips, and you know he notices because you can feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your shirt. 

Moments pass like that, and when you still don’t move away, Soonyoung lets out a soft breath of air that you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His next movements are slow and calculated, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut. Your hand lifts to his chest, and you’re surprised when you feel just how fast his heart is beating. 

“Soonyoung?” You question softly after a moment, impressed that your voice even makes it out at all. He responds with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes still closed.

“I just… Just give me a second,” he murmurs, and your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it in the quiet of the practice room.

“Okay.” 

You have no idea what’s going on. All you know is that you trust Soonyoung with your life, and if he needs a minute — you’ll give him ten. You think that maybe you’re the one who needs a minute, though, because you’re not sure how you’re still breathing, let alone standing upright with him this close. 

So close that your breaths are mingling together in the small space that’s left between you, so close that you can count every single one of those beautiful eyelashes as they flutter against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your eyebrows furrow. 

“For what?” Your hand moves of its own accord, moving from his chest to find his bicep and squeezing gently to remind him that he’s okay. He lets out a hum, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re almost worried now.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. If I’m being weird,” he elaborates. “It’s just that — well, honestly, ah,” he seems to attempt to squeeze his eyes shut even more, if that were possible. “I’ve really been wanting to kiss you lately — like, more than usual, which is already a lot — fuck, sorry.” He inhales sharply. “You just looked so cute watching me before, and dancing with me now, so I thought that I… and then you didn’t move away, so I thought that maybe you…” He trails off again, and you’re sure your ears are playing tricks on you. 

You move your forehead away from his, and his eyes finally open at the loss of contact. When your gaze meets his, your breath is nearly stolen away from you. He looks terrified as he searches your face, his eyebrows furrowed, and you know him so well that you swear you can hear him overthinking everything. His grip loosens on the back of your shirt but he doesn’t let go, and you can tell he wants to speak again based on the way his mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t. You haven’t moved, and he doesn’t either, and you know he’s letting you decide how to respond. He would give you all the space in the world if you asked for it, you know that.

You don’t want space, though.

“It’s not weird,” you finally say, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you speak. “I’ve been feeling like that, too.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen, and he blinks slowly. He takes a moment, processing, and then he starts, “You—”

“I swear all I think about these days is kissing you,” you blurt out, and you’re not sure who’s blushing harder now, you or him. 

Before you even know what’s happening, Soonyoung is surging forward to close the whisper of distance that remains between the two of you. Then his lips are pressed to yours, hot and slow and lingering, his hand lifting to your jaw to angle your face so that he can kiss you even deeper. You let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper at the intensity of the kiss, at how warm and soft and good his mouth feels against yours, and he hums in return.

When he pulls away, it takes a second for your own eyes to flutter back open. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes have turned into crescent moons. 

“Holy fuck, Soonyoung.” You’re breathless, and you can tell he’s pleased with your comment as his thumb caresses the side of your jaw.

“So much better than I could have ever imagined,” he returns, and you flush. “And trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

You move to bury your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, not caring at all that he’s sweaty and warm. His arms pull you in, holding you close to his chest, and you hum as he gently sways the two of you. 

“Now neither of us has to wonder what it’s like anymore,” you say softly.

“You’re right,” he agrees, pulling you back so he can look down at you again. His hands clasp together at the small of your back as he leans forward to teasingly brush his nose against yours. “Now that I know what it feels like to kiss you, though, I’m definitely going to be thinking about it even more than I already was.”

Your arms wind your way around his neck. “Me, too.” 

“I mean…” Soonyoung is grinning, smile so bright it could outshine the sun, as he says, “We could just… keep doing it.” 

You pull him into you so abruptly that it makes you stumble, falling in a tangle of limbs down to the practice room floor. You wince as you land on Soonyoung, but he’s laughing as you roll off and onto your back beside him. You throw a hand over your eyes, and you can feel it as Soonyoung lifts onto his side next to you. A hand moves to trace patterns on your arm, and you can’t help the shiver that courses through you.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he murmurs, and you can still hear the smile in his voice.

“I know. I’m just… Embarrassed.”

Soonyoung’s fingers halt their motions as he finds your hand and brings your arm away from your face, entwining his fingers with yours. He continues to play with your fingers, his body firm against your side as he leans against you. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“I was trying to be sexy and I literally tripped us, Soonyoung. This is why you’re the dancer and I’m not.”

Soonyoung’s mouth moves slowly, almost painstakingly slow, as a smile takes over his face. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re about to let out a whine because you’re even more embarrassed with him looking at you like that. But he sits up, bringing you with him. The soft smile on his mouth grows, and grows, and grows, until his grin has widened so much that it’s taken over his entire face. 

“You like me,” he whispers, and you can’t help the giggle that tumbles past your lips. You flush, giddy over how giddy he is, and you nod. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really, really do.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Sorry a new fic took so long, there's been a lot going on in my life that I did not foresee lol. Thanks for waiting xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf

(Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, I’m sorry!)

[kozachenko]

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

[delulustateofmind]

Married to the Lord of Bloodshed (One-shot)

A/N: OMG! Thank you all for so much love on the Azriel one. I am literally SHOCKED.

**fair warning: it is unedited, like a rough draft like the last one as I am working on both the series as well. Just had a lot of fun with it!**

Summary: collections of being married to Cassian! Married for fifty years :) 

Word count: 1.6k

triggers: Mentions of intimacy, lots of pet names-like LOTS, that's about it!

***

You, an unlikely match, found yourself married to the formidable Illyrian warrior, Cassian, general of the Night Court. Fifty years of a beautiful marriage under your belt. Meeting at a party that somehow left you both discovering you were mates. Cassian was a completely different male when he was around you compared to how he was at the Illyrian camps. 

Among your cherished moments together…

After a long day working as a healer for the court, your muscles tense. Cassian would very much enjoy rubbing out your sore muscles. You knew he did this to lead to other things.

As you would lay on the bed, flat on your back. Cassian lifts one of your legs to rest on his shoulder as he rubs your calf. With a mischievous smirk, he murmured, “Baby let me take care of you.” The feeling of his rough calloused hands rubbing out your sore muscles from standing all day. You couldn’t help but laugh, attempting to retract your leg from the ticklish sensation.

“Baby, that tickles,” Cassian smirks in response as he applies more pressure. “You think this tickles, I haven’t even started yet” he murmurs as he presses a thumb to your tight calf muscle as he rubs a knot out and notices your reaction as you cover your face. 

“How are your muscles looking? Still sore? Maybe you should take off a few days, you’ve been working really hard. I could stay with you and keep you company.” his gaze meets yours as his hand seems to have traveled to your thigh. 

“Well I’ve been going to this new workout studio before work in the mornings, it’s this new workout called pilates” a soft laugh escaping your lips as he reaches a more tense area in your thigh. His smirk fades a little as he looks at you. 

“You’ve been going to the gym before work? Baby, you work like hours on end. Are you trying to run that body of yours to the ground? It’s beautiful and deserves to be cared for” Cassian states as he leans closer to you pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I never complained about you working so much, but sometimes you worry me. Try to take it easy okay? Maybe we can have a relaxing weekend together, just us, maybe go to the river?” He smiles down at you as he pulls you closer to himself. You knew where this was leading, as soon as his hands moved across your thigh and onto your hips to pull you flush against him as he kissed your lips. “How about I make you feel good tonight, hm? I’ll be gentle” He smirks with a kiss.

***

However, one thing that really was a bummer was being married to a super health-conscious Illyrian. Going to the market was a challenge. Sure you enjoyed that your mate looked out for you. Picking the best fruits and vegetables to cook healthy delicious meals with. 

But sometimes a girl just wants two different types of cake and maybe some cookies. Your monthly was probably starting soon but the sugar cravings were at an all-time high. Yes, Cassian would obviously let you pick up one. Not two, no no, just one. He said too many sweets would burn you out…I mean he was right, but it still sucked to admit it. 

“Mamas, just pick one” Cassian chuckled as he carried the bags of food. Looking at you with a smile as you stood there for the past twenty minutes. Carefully. Picking out the one sweet treat you were allowed for the week. 

You pleaded to him as if you were begging for your life. “My love, it’s so hard, can’t we get the fancy cake and the cheesecake?” You shot him a look that even a puppy would fall for, almost begging for your mate to indulge in your cravings. Pointing at the beautifully decorated chocolate cake that sat right next to its best friend, the cheesecake with the pretty little strawberries sitting on top that just went into season. “I mean look they’re best friends, baby? It’s like you and Azriel, we can’t just break them up”

Cassian smirked looking at you, trying to put up a ‘no’ look for you but the male was weak. You knew he couldn’t say no to your cute pleading face. So the moment you looked up at him, he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But only this, one time.” He teased with mock sternness, his voice low and playful “Only, because you brought up a compelling argument” 

“I have never loved you more than I have in this very moment, Pookie” You gave him a big smile as you motioned the baker over to box up both the chocolate cake and the cheesecake. 

Cassian was just going to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t say no to his wife’s charms. He looked at you and chuckled, not saying anything as you walked out of the store. Grabbing the bag from you and following you. Though he did make sure to give your ass a tiny pinch on the way out.

“Pookie? I swear you’re going to be the death of me some days, I have a reputation to uphold, you know!” he teased as he walked with you. You both had to pick up a few more items before heading home for the day…

***

Mornings were never your thing you despised mornings. You always opted for the afternoon or night shift when you had to work. Cassian on the other hand was a ray of sunshine in the mornings. Though, he never cared that you didn’t work out with him. Your mate just cared that you would at least move around a bit, whether that was doing yoga with Feyre or taking dance lessons over at the Rainbow. He trained you in self-defense when you first started dating. His wife needed to be able to protect herself at least. 

You unfortunately had the morning shift today. A grumpy walk on the way home, you could winnow home. But, you needed the walk to cool yourself down. A walk down the streets of Velaris led you to a new studio that had just opened with the word  ‘Zumba’ written on the glass.  You peeked in to find music flowing out and a bunch of what seemed like moms dancing. 

Sounds like a good time! 

There were two open spots for tonight. You signed both your and Cassian’s names onto the sign-up sheet. Though you hadn’t asked him yet, you were sure you could be convincing enough. 

Entering his office, you found Cassian engrossed in paperwork for the Illyrian camps. “Baby, my love, my sweet honey bear, snookums” you whispered in his ear as you leaned over his shoulder. Carefully not pressing weight down on his wings. 

A soft hum escaped his lips as he reached for your hand. Pressing a small kiss on your palm as he kept reading a document for supplies. “What is it my love” he murmured clearly not paying attention to you. 

“There’s this class going on tonight and I would really love you if you would join me,” you kissed his ear and then his neck. “Pretty please”

“Mm, what sort of class?” He hummed. Although Cassian would agree to anything for you, he couldn’t help but find your sweetness after work unusual, yet endearing. Usually, you were a snapping turtle, especially once you discover soon that he ate the last piece of cake while you were at work. 

“It’s like a workout class with live music, seems fun right? Please baby…pretty please my big strong Illyrian male that I love so much” you whined as you kissed his neck with peppered kisses. Use your other hand to rub his chest. 

“Yeah, we can go, let me get ready then” just the confirmation you needed. You pulled away from him and with a happy smile, just about to leave him to his paperwork. Before you knew it, Cassian had swept you off your feet, a playful gesture that spoke of what was to come when he carried you over his shoulder to your shared bedroom. 

****

Stepping into the ‘Zumba’ studio, Cassian realized that facing war and bloodshed paled in comparison to the challenge of dancing with a group of determined mothers on a Tuesday night. These females seemed as if they were ready for war. Strapped with their sweatbands and their workout clothes. Cassian was definitely out of place, a few of the fae women gave him curious glances as he stood in the back. The mirrors clearly show him towering over everyone, his massive wings were tucked close to his body, straining as if they sought freedom from the small studio. His small wife was beside him, grinning ear to ear as she looked up at him full of excitement. 

How could he refuse when she looked that happy?

As the class concluded, Cassian found himself drenched in sweat, a testament to the intensity of the workout. Sure, he was in perfect shape, he’s had about 500 years of training. Of course, he was a fit male. 

But this tortuous dance class had him wheezing and gasping for air while these moms did the cardio squats like it was nothing. A few of the moms even gave him some fist bumps, humbling the poor lord of bloodshed. 

Grabbing your hand as you both left the studio, a smile formed and tugged on his lips as he reluctantly said, “Mamas, I need one of those pinky drinks you love so much.” Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looked at you expecting to lead the way to your favorite cafe.

[throughthebluesea]

home.

pairing: bada lee x reader

genre: just warmth. fluff. heavily based with reese lansangan's home. (highly suggested to listen to it while reading this.)

den's notes: just... warmth... all over. i am in love with this idea of bada being such a domestic girlfriend. 😩 makes me fall for her more, and more. aaaaa. again, this isn't proofread, so apologies for the errors. i hope everyone enjoyed this!

you wondered what type of day it is today. you were late at work, got scolded by your superiors, and finished a lot of backlogs that your superiors dumped on you. at this point, you're looking up at the dull white ceiling from your cubicle.

what did you do to deserve this, you thought to yourself. soobin, your work colleague and friend, would smile apologetically at you while gently patting you on the back.

it's like her way of saying that you need to endure. both of you are all in this together, in this hell called your workplace. you let out a soft sigh, but as you look down, your eyes stop at the blue metallic picture frame on your desk. it's like the only item in your desk that has color, like a lively thing on your dull work desk where all things are in grey and muted green shades.

it was your picture with your long-time girlfriend, bada. it's a photo you took on one of those self-made photo studios you two visited on one of your dates. she does dance instructor for a living, and you met her through a mutual friend of yours.

audrey, an exchange student, and your friend insisted you accompany her to one of her dance recitals. bada happened to be there, as one of the instructors and performers. when you two met, you just clicked right away. it started with simple dates, until another date followed. a few months later, she confessed and asked you to be her girlfriend.

you eventually moved into her apartment, and she usually stays in whenever she doesn't have schedules. as much as she tries to convince you to leave your current job, you would retaliate that the pay is good, and you can’t find another work like that, despite the workload that corresponds to such amount of salary. bada was worried, but she accepted your decision.

going back to reality, just the sight of your picture with her, the tiredness dissipates somehow. it gave like a sense of driving force to endure the long hours at work.

time out: 7:30pm. you dragged your tired ass out of the building. the ride home was equally stressful, too, knowing that you got out during the rush hour. pretty much, you're worn-out that you even forgot to inform bada that you're on your way home like you usually do.

when you entered your shared unit, you removed your flat shoes, and removed your blazers. when you looked up, you find bada standing by the living room entrance. without saying anything, she takes your bag from your body and gently brought you in further.

she would ask how your day went, and you would rant about the crazy things that happened to you in your workplace. she doesn't react as you tell her, but you can see how her face distorts when you mentioned something bad that happened to your day.

"let me take care of you, then." bada says softly, then she pulls you inside your bathroom. she prepares the bathtub for you to bathe in. and waited for you to finish and wrap the fluffiest towels that she has.

bada prepares your nighties in advance, and once you've changed, she takes you to the kitchen area where dinner is prepared. you two sat side by side and enjoyed the hearty meal she prepares for the two of you.

she even insisted that she will be the one to clean everything after, and not letting you move or do any chores. and there you felt your gaze soften as you looked at her back while she cleans the dishes.

your heart swelled at how she takes care of you. she never misses everytime she knew that you came from a stressful day at work. bada would do anything for you.

after cleaning, she carries your body bridal style and places your tired body down your shared bed with her. bada, then cover the two of you with the blanket and would pull you close to her, hugging you securely in her arms.

"thank you, baby..." you whispered right after you let out a yawn. she would gaze back at you with a small smile, and reaches towards your hair, fixing each fringe.

"anything for you, my solace."

bada leans in to land a kiss on your forehead, and you closed your eyes.

after a long day, you don't have to worry anymore, because at the end of the day, you will be home.

and she's your home.

– fin.

[pepsiconcoction]

oh remembwr when changbin said when he angry all it takes is physical touch or any act of affection for him to turn into putty and how he said hannie instead of being th wfirat to apologise or something just waits with open arms and breaks down when the other person comes to him first WELL IMAGINE A FIC THAT INCORPORATES EITHER OF THESE WITH A LITTLE ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING WITH READER🫢

thank u anon, i will also do the jisung one, so keep an eye out!

Lion Tamer | Seo Changbin x Reader

pairing: seo changbin x fem!reader

tags: angst, miscommunication? a little suggestive at the end, like one swear word, good ending dw, other member makes an appearance

requested: yes!

wc: 1,130

Changbin is known for his short temper, that’s just a fact. He’s easily antagonised, resulting in some hilarious, unexpected, or very occasionally scary outbursts. He is quick to jump up or shout, and hard to calm down. Not many people have mastered the art of lion taming, but you? You’ve somehow perfected it. It wasn’t a conscious thing you did, but it seems you have some unseen power over him.

Your power was discovered by chance in the JYP dance studio. You had been invited along by your wonderful boyfriend who clearly just wanted to show off, knowing this you agreed anyway. You’d be a hypocrite not to indulge him a little bit, right?

During a 5-minute water break, a conversation had started up about shoes. Particularly, platforms. Now, everyone knows that Stray Kids aren’t exactly the tallest, your boyfriend being the shortest of them all, so you could already feel him become tense from his place next to you on the leather sofa. 

“I don’t like them, they make me feel like my proportions are wrong,” Minho says from his place on the floor, flat on his back, limbs spread.

“I like them, our team needs them.” Felix contributes, resulting in a few laughs.

“Changbin maybe, I’d say the rest of us are fine.” Minho raises his head, smirking at Changbin.

“Hey! You’re not that much taller!”

“Yeah? Stand up.” Minho doesn’t move. Changbin takes the challenge, sputtering, and stands up. He goes to walk towards Minho who is still starfished, but you grab his hand.

“Sit down, Bin.” You chuckle. He stops in his tracks and plops down next to you immediately, holding your hand properly.

“Did you see that?” Hyunjin says, throwing his head back laughing.

“Yeah,” Jeongin speaks up. “Y/n has some serious powers.”

This results in some laughter around the room while Changbin looks at you, eyes creased with an open grin.

“How am I supposed to say no?” He chuckles, and takes your hand in both of his, squeezing it gently.

Your powers also work in more serious instances. Like the time Changbin thought you were cheating on him, accosting you the moment he got home from the studio.

“Y/n, you have some explaining to do,” he said, entering your shared living room where you had been sitting, peacefully reading.

“What?” you blinked up at him.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not stupid.”

“Bin, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, of course, you don’t.” He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. If you weren’t so confused, you’d be ogling his arms in the tight black t-shirt he’s wearing.

“I really don’t. Can you tell me what I’ve apparently done?” You put your phone down next to you on the sofa.

“You know, if you wanted to break up with me, you should’ve just said something.” That shocked you into closing your mouth. 

“If you wanted to see other people, I wouldn’t stop you. Well, I would, I’d definitely try but if you really wanted to break up I couldn’t stop you. I’d be pissed though because I love you so much and I thought our relationship was practically perfect. And we’re usually so good at communicating so I’m upset that you couldn’t just tell me what’s wrong, or what happened for you to have a change of heart. But seriously, a fucking soft launch on your insta? That’s just shitty.”

Soft launch? Insta? Oh.

You stand up, keeping a relaxed posture and facial expression.

“So are you going to leave? Because if you are, I want my hoodies back, especially the navy one, it’s my favourite one.” He’s slowly getting louder.

Honestly, he’s kind of cute when he’s ranting. You stifle a laugh, taking a step into his space.

“Oh, so you’re laughing at me now? Oh, yes! Let’s laugh at Changbin! Ha! Ha! Ha! So fun-” 

You cut him off by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him in for a kiss. His mouth doesn’t really react but his hands do instinctively come to your sides. 

“Sorry, I had to get you to shut up.” You pull back, meeting a very emotionally conflicted Changbin.

“Bin. First of all, I’m not leaving you. Second of all, I didn’t soft launch. That was my cousin. He joined me and my aunt for lunch because he is in town at the minute. And lastly, you are so cute when you’re jealous.”

You get a front-row seat to the cogs turning in his head. You watch as his eyes widen and his face flushes a bright shade of red. You throw your head back laughing, still holding the sides of his head. The hands holding you have tightened their grip now, and he’s ducking his head down to hide in your neck.

“I am so sorry. I should be ashamed. Actually.” He cuts himself off and falls to his knees in front of you, arms unwrapping from around you to clasp them together as if he were praying.

“Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. A thousand times over. Hey, stop laughing, I’m trying to apologise. I should never have assumed anything,” he says. You catch your breath and look down at him, instantly bringing a hand to run through his hair. His hands return to you, pulling you into him, and he buries his face in your stomach, mumbling more apologies.

“Changbin, please, look at me.” You use your leverage on his hair to force him to look up. He looks up at you with big eyes.

“Get up.” You giggle. He immediately stands. 

“It’s okay, I can understand why you thought that, but you are also super dumb for even thinking that I’d do that in the first place. Why would I ever leave you?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, shrugging.

“Exactly, I have no intention to ever leave my wonderful, adorable, handsome-”

“Sexy.”

“Uh-huh, sexy, smart, kind, and sometimes jealous boyfriend.” You smile up at him, putting your hands on his shoulders. He ducks his head into your neck once more.

“I really am sorry, you know.” 

“I know you are.” 

You feel his arms tighten around you in a strong hug and the two of you stay there for a few seconds as he sways the two of you gently.

“Okay, grovelling over,” he says suddenly standing up straight, dazing you slightly. He suddenly grabs you, easily throwing you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” You nearly shout as he begins to move.

“Making it up to my wonderful, understanding, sexy girlfriend! Unless she has any complaints with the proposition?” he replies, and that’s when you realise you’re headed in the direction of the bedroom, and you throw your head back laughing again.

“No complaints here!”

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!) : @lethallyprotected

[akaridream]

all the right buttons (college AU Goku & Vegeta x reader)

have y'all seen the figure from FuzzFeet Studios featuring our favorite boys gaming on the couch in the sluttiest little shorts? lemme say, i was feeling thirsty after I saw it for the first time. thus, this fic was born.

vegeta and goku both will get a part 2, choose your own adventure style (coming very soon!)

As you padded down the hall of Bulma’s apartment building, muffled male voices arguing rang through the walls. Your favorite chemistry study buddy had warned that her two roommates would be home while you did homework together, but you hoped the voices were from a neighboring unit. Your hopes were dashed when you stood in front of Bulma’s door and knocked, the voices now quite clear in the hallway.

“Hey! Pipe down you two! My friend is here and we need to get some work done!” Bulma’s voice interrupted. The door swung open with a whoosh, revealing the blue-haired bombshell. She rolled her eyes and shuffled you inside.

“Sorry about the boys, Goku found his old game system and they’ve been at it for a while,” she explained as you kicked off your shoes and dropped your backpack by the kitchenette table. “I was hoping they’d be wrapping it up by now but-”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” you said with a dismissive wave. “I grew up with two brothers, so they won’t bother me!"

Beyond the kitchen sat the infamous roommates, backs turned on the couch, facing a comically small CRT television in front of Bulma’s fancy flat screen. The tiny TV sat precariously on a mini fridge, and on the floor was the little gray console, one which you hadn’t seen in at least a decade. The chiptune soundtrack was nostalgic and familiar.

“Is that Tenkaichi Tournament 5?” you asked.

“Yeah!” came the chipper voice from the guy on the left, though his focus remained on the game. His black hair splayed in all directions and his blue tank barely covered his built shoulders.

Oh shit. These boys are fit, you thought.

The guy in blue’s arms were bulky and strong, intimidatingly so. And the blond guy was just as fine with a cut-up yellow racerback showing off the hard work he had put into his lats. With their backs turned, you shamelessly admired what you could see of them, salivating at the sight of their carved muscles.

Bulma elbowed you and lifted a brow, tilting her head in the direction of the guys. Your eyes grew large and you fanned your face, mouthing “Oh my god” to her. She grinned and nodded.

“This is my friend from chemistry I was telling you about!” Bulma yelled over the TV, hands on her hips.

The guy in blue paused their game and turned around, draping his arm over the back of the worn couch.

“Hi!” he said in a sweet voice, eyes bright and friendly behind a pair of black frames.

The blond gave him a dirty look for pausing the game. “Hello,” he offered over his shoulder.

“I’m Goku! Nice to meet you!” he said with a wave. “This is Vegeta. Sorry, he’s a little sour because he’s lost three rounds in a row!”

The blond scoffed. “I am not sour! You just keep spamming your super move and it’s fucking annoying!”

“Have you tried countering him with a block?” you asked. That got the blond’s full attention and he turned around to you with an incredulous expression.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

With a look at both of their faces, you weren’t sure who was more handsome. Goku had boyish good looks and a natural charm, complimented by his endearingly wild hair. Vegeta resembled a model with smoldering eyes and immaculately styled hair sweeping upward. It was like comparing a golden retriever and a wolf: both were beautiful in their own ways. Had you known her roommates were perfect 10s, you would have opted for an outfit more put-together than your cotton booty shorts and oversized tee…

You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the gaze of two gorgeous men. “Um, if you hold down or back when he tries to hit you with a super move, you’ll block half the damage. But you have to get the timing just right,” you explained.

Vegeta pouted his lips and turned to Goku. “You didn’t tell me that, Kakarot!”

Goku laughed and shrugged. “I thought you knew how to block!”

“So you’ve been winning because you haven’t told me all the rules! New match, come on!” Vegeta shouted.

“It’s not really a rule,” Goku murmured with a glance to you and a smile. You smirked back as he turned towards their game once again.

“Try to keep it at a reasonable level guys, please. We have an exam next week and I am not letting my A slip to an A-minus because of this stupid game!” Bulma warned and led you to the round table in the kitchen. You extracted your laptop and a notebook from your backpack and opened up to your most recent homework.

From your seat in the kitchen, you could see directly between the pair of gentlemen, straight to the tiny TV. You couldn’t help but watch as Vegeta’s character desperately tried to master the block timing, barely eeking out a victory.

“HA!” Vegeta celebrated. “In your face! See, all I needed was to actually know all there is to the game to beat you!”

“Oh whatever Vegeta! Bet you can’t do it twice in a row!”

Bulma tapped a manicured finger on your laptop. “Um helloooo? Are you with me?” she asked.

You blushed and turned in your chair towards her. “Yes, I’m sorry! My brothers and I used to play that game together all the time, it’s been a while since I last saw it.”

She smiled at you knowingly. “Or are you just enjoying the eye candy?”

You sucked on your lips and shrugged. “Well… I’m not not enjoying it.”

The two of you snickered quietly at the table.

“I’ve heard that ladies find them attractive, but I’ve known them both since we were little kids. I just can’t see them that way, you know?” she said.

You nodded and glanced over at them, making sure they weren’t listening in. “So you’ve never dated either of them?”

“Goku, never. There was a very brief time in middle school where Vegeta and I went out but it just got weird and… Ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. But that was ages ago. And both of them are single now,” she offered, brow raised.

You tapped your pencil to your lips. “Hm. Good to know…”

Despite the looming chemistry exam, between the noisy video game and the attractive boys playing it, your focus was gone. As the evening glow began to darken, every few minutes you glanced over between the muscular shoulders on display to see who was in the lead. They were quite evenly matched, trading wins without any notable streaks for either.

After having to steal your attention back several times, Bulma snapped her laptop shut and shook her head.

“We aren’t getting anything done tonight, are we?” she asked.

You turned fully towards her. “Geez, I’m sorry Bulma. I know you wanted to have this assignment finished up but-”

She chuckled and waved her hand. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, we both have solid A’s and the exam isn’t ‘til next week. We’ve got plenty of time. Go see if they’ll let you play a round!”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked, glancing over the back of the couch once more.

“No, we’ll finish up later. Go have some fun!” she insisted.

You grinned and stuffed your belongings back into your backpack and set it by the front door. “Thanks!”

Just as you approached the living area, Goku rose from the couch and stretched, his skimpy tank top rising to show his midriff. It was just as toned and hard as his arms. The tiny gray shorts he wore left little to the imagination, in both the bulk of his thighs and the size of his package. Oh Christ, you though. The room suddenly felt intensely hot.

“Done already?” you asked, trying not to drool.

Goku smiled. “Nah, I’m just taking a quick water break. You want anything?” he asked.

“Not to drink, but I wouldn’t mind going a round or two at Tenkaichi,” you said.

“Sure!” Goku said. He walked around the couch and handed you the controller on the way to the kitchen. “Kick his ass!”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and looked at you over his shoulder. “Hm. Bring it on.”

As you walked around and plopped on the couch next to Vegeta, you got a better look at him. Significantly smaller in stature than Goku but just as built, he sat at the edge of the cushion with his elbows on his knees. You chuckled internally, recognizing it as the ‘serious’ pose your oldest brother took when playing video games. His gym shorts fit too small, his muscular legs pulling the fabric tight in places. The cut-off tank he wore displayed his fine musculature in a way that made your heart stutter.

Fuck’s sake, he is unbelievably hot, you thought.

Finally tearing your hungry gaze away, you selected the only female character in the game, earning a sideways smirk from your opponent.

“No way you’ll win with her,” he boasted as the game loaded.

“We’ll see,” you contested.

You took a few moments to refamiliarize yourself with the controls, but held your own against Vegeta. He had quickly mastered the block, but the timing came back to you like an old friend. The match was close the entire time until Vegeta managed to pull off a super move while you were in the air, catching you off guard. He smiled.

“A valiant effort,” he offered. “Best two out of three?”

“Of course!”

You fought again, but this time, you managed to recall a hidden combo you had memorized way back in the day. It took your opponent by complete surprise, depleting his health significantly before you moved in to finish the job for an easy win.

“What the hell was that?” he barked.

You grew shy and shrunk into the couch. “Just some muscle memory coming back to me. I’m guessing Goku didn’t tell you about hidden moves either, then?”

Vegeta turned towards you wearing a curious expression.

“Of course he didn’t. There are hidden moves?”

You pulled out your phone and furiously typed away. “Yeah! Each character has a combo that isn’t listed in the actual game anywhere, but they’re the strongest moves there are. My brothers and I used to play this all the time back in the day, but I only know Chacha’s combo. I’m looking up the combo for Prince Monkey so you can try it.”

He eyed you up and down as you searched, admiring the fact that you needed no makeup to look cute. Your features were soft and feminine, your smile lighting up your entire face. His cheeks grew warm when you scooted closer to him on the couch, showing him your phone.

“Here’s the button input. Give it a try!” you encouraged, leaning forward into your own ‘serious’ gaming pose, knee touching his.

He did as you suggested, but struggled with the combo at first. You eased back in the fight, allowing him time to figure it out before he finally blasted you away, winning the match by a hair.

“Nice! You did it!” you praised.

“It’ll be interesting to use that move against Kakarot,” he mused with a smirk.

“Kakarot? I thought his name was Goku,” you said.

“Kakarot is my first name, but I always go by my middle name,” Goku explained as he returned. “He just calls me that because he’s an ass.”

Goku held a dripping bottle of water against the back of Vegeta’s neck, making him recoil and snatch the bottle away.

“So who won?” Goku asked, taking a seat on your left and sandwiching you between two chiseled thighs.

“That would be Prince Monkey,” you admitted. “I took one round though.”

“You held your own well against me,” Vegeta said, giving a tiny hint of a smile. “It was an admirable effort.”

You nodded in appreciation and handed the controller back to Goku, but he waved you off and took a swig of water from his bottle.

“Keep playing as long as you want!” he said.

And so you did, managing to beat Vegeta in the next round thanks to your mastery over the hidden combo. Goku was flabbergasted when he saw the wildly powerful moves for the first time.

“Whoa! What the heck are those?”

"Hidden combos. You’ll have to figure it out on your own, Kakarot!” Vegeta sneered, his knee bumping into yours, then his elbow.

“Hey!” you chuckled, elbowing him back. “Quit trying to throw me off!”

“What are you talking about?” Vegeta rebutted. “I’m not doing anything!” He leaned against you and jostled your arm with his elbow.

“No fair!” you cried. You still managed to win the match, making Vegeta huff in annoyance.

Goku laughed. “Damn, she’s good!”

You shoved Vegeta playfully as he leaned for his bottle of water on the floor. You caught a glint of flirty eye contact as he did, making you want to kick your feet.

“That’s two to two,” Vegeta said. “One more to break the tie?”

“Absolutely. But I do want to change characters,” you said, inputting a code on the character select screen.

“King Monkey?” Goku asked after a new selection appeared.

“Wait, there’s another character?” Vegeta squawked. You nodded proudly.

“Yep. I know all the secrets to this game! Let’s see who will come out on top now!”

King Monkey, a larger and stronger version of his son, quickly dominated with a combo that devastated Vegeta. Despite his best efforts, he struggled to damage you, letting you come out on top without much trouble. Vegeta tossed his head and leaned back on the couch with an irritated grumble.

“Oh man!” Goku said. “That was really one-sided!”

You shrugged and laughed. “Well, King Monkey is a boss character so he’s not exactly fair. But I had to get him back for fighting dirty!”

“Tch, whatever,” Vegeta pouted, handing his controller off to Goku. “I have to get going anyway.”

You frowned and watched him get off the couch and head towards his bedroom down the hall. “Aw, bummer. Where you off to?”

“Astronomy lab,” he said over his shoulder.

Bulma called from the kitchen. “Oh, that’s finally happening?”

“Yes, finally,” Vegeta yelled down the hall, then reappeared with his backpack. “First clear evening in weeks. Cloud cover has been a pain in the ass all semester.”

“Sounds super interesting,” you said. “Well, it was really nice meeting you Vegeta!”

He gave a small smile and wave as he headed out the door. “Yeah. Been fun. See you around.”

“See ya, Jeeta!” Goku called from the couch.

As the door shut behind him, you blushed at the sweet, barely-there smile that had formed on his lips as he said goodbye. Intrigued by his stony, competitive personality, you wondered how Bulma would feel about you asking for his number…

“So he’s an astronomy major?” you asked. Bulma padded over and sat on the arm of the couch.

“Astrophysics, actually,” she explained.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. Didn’t take him for such an academic.”

Bulma snorted. “I know, right? Seems like more of a meathead like Goku.”

Expecting a retort for the insult, you turned towards him, but Goku was unperturbed.

“You gonna let her call you a meathead?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Well, I’m a kinesiology major, so I kind of am!”

You nodded. “Ah, I see. So you wanna be a physical therapist then?”

“I could do that,” he said, leaned his head from side to side. “But I also think running my own gym would be fun. Haven’t decided yet though.”

Quintessential himbo, you thought to yourself, smiling. Bulma’s roommates sure were interesting, to say the least. “Well, you certainly have the physique for it!”

“Thanks!” Goku said with pride. “Vegeta and I lift together all the time. Even though he’s really hard-working on his studies, he works just as hard in the gym. You should see all the other astro nerds, they’re like half his size! Well, in the muscle department at least.” Bulma laughed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of the pint-sized yet built Vegeta sitting in class with a bunch of pale, scrawny bookworms he could tear in half.

“So are you a chem major like Bulma?” Goku asked.

“Oh gosh, I could never do chemical engineering like her!” you said. “I’m just a regular chemistry major. She’s way smarter than me, plus I don’t really like math all that much.”

“Ugh, me neither!” Goku said, selecting Master Turtle as his character to fight you. “I barely scraped by the general math class, and that was all thanks to Bulma and Vegeta! I’d be stuck in there forever if it wasn’t for them!”

You fought round after round, not even noticing when Bulma slipped away to her bedroom. Conversation flowed easily with the amicable Goku. He had a way of making you feel comfortable even in the silence. He asked about your brothers, told you that he had an older brother but Vegeta was more like a brother to him. As you got to know each other, the twilight faded into darkness, the only light in the living room coming from the tiny TV.

“I need a break, my thumbs are killing me,” you said, rolling your wrists.

“Can I try out that hidden character you had earlier?” Goku asked.

You took his controller and punched in the secret code for him. As you handed it back, your fingers brushed his for an instant. You made brief eye contact, his handsome features illuminated by the TV. He couldn't help but smile at the dusting of blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Your long lashes framed your pretty eyes perfectly, he thought, and your bright smile made his stomach feel lighter than air. Neither of you had noticed that you had migrated towards the center of the couch, only separated by an inch between your thighs.

You watched Goku figure out the new character, following his expressive brown eyes dancing across the screen. You hoped he couldn’t tell how hard you were staring at him from the corner of your eye. He was too damn handsome to take your eyes off of for long. And his pecs looked like they’d make a perfect pillow…

As Goku fought against the computer-controlled Prince Monkey, a twinge of conflict made you bite your lip.

Shit, you thought. I have no idea which of these guys I like better! Surely you couldn’t ask Bulma for both of their numbers, that would just be greedy. But you had to get one of them. No way could you pass up the opportunity. They were far too fine.

As if she could sense your dilemma, Bulma emerged from her bedroom and came back into the living area.

“I cannot believe how long you have been playing that damn game, Goku,” she laughed.

He grinned. “I’m just glad my old TV still works! Wish we could hook it up to the big screen though.”

As he continued to play, you stood from the couch and motioned for Bulma to join you in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I have a question,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder to make sure Goku was distracted by the game.

Bulma got the hint and lowered her voice. “Sure.”

“How would you feel…” you hesitated. “If I wanted one of your roommate’s numbers?”

She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I freaking knew it. Which one though?”

You crossed your arms. “That’s the problem. I can’t decide!”

Bulma put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Are you for real?”

You nodded and smooshed your cheeks in your hands. “They’re both so hot!”

Bulma thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Ooh! I have an idea! Let me ask them how they felt about you, try to get a feel for which of them vibed with you the best.”

“Oh gosh, are you sure?” you asked. “Don’t make it too obvious though.”

Bulma smirked. “Please. I know the art of subtlety, my dear. I’ve got you covered.”

You bounced with glee. “You’re the best!”

“I know!” Bulma said with a shrug and proud smile.

After your nightly shower and bedtime routine, you climbed into bed to see your phone lit up with a new message.

BULMA: soooo i talked to the boys about you

YOU: ahhh

YOU: i’m gonna puke

BULMA: one of them actually asked about you before i got the chance to ;)

YOU: omg fr shut up

BULMA: wanna guess which one???

Part 2: Goku

Part 2: Vegeta coming soon!

dbz masterlist

tags: @artof-aristocracy

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓.

DAY TEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: inspired by your favorite lana del rey song + artist au + “don't you know how sick with love i am for you?”

pairing: artist!marcus pike x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: marcus is in desperate need for a muse.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: body painting, artist/muse, obsessed artist marcus pike, mutual oral s.ex/69 but marcus is on top, cum play, spit play, dirty talk, affectionate whore calling, in a very Marcus fashion things escalate very quickly

In the dim living room, the scent of oil paints hung heavy in the air, mingling with the undertones of desperation and need. An artist needs a muse, Marcus thinks, the crease between his brows deep. He placed his hands beneath his chin, fingers meeting, in a contemplative pose. He sat on the couch; right across from a blank canvas. In front of it his paints were angrily scattered, his want to paint clouding his judgment and angering him. It’s been months since he last painted. Nothing inspired him to paint. Not the books he read, not his perfectly decorated studio speaking to his particular tastes, not his friends—

Nothing. 

And now he has to leave and he has to leave right now. He has no time to shower and scrub the scent of paint off his skin, no time to tidy his living room. Slowly, he lifts himself off the couch and walks up to the canvas. He places his palm flat in the middle. The grease of his hand seeps into the woven white fabric. Bits of paint adding shards of color and tainting the pure. 

He sighs, pulling his hand away, he stares at the faint shine of grease. Still nothing. 

Maybe going out will help him think of something to paint. 

He has his doubts but he’s willing to try. 

Going out tonight you weren’t expecting much. Maybe some laughter—a lot of drinking, but that was pretty much it. You certainly weren’t expecting to meet a charming artist with brown eyes and dark brown hair who had a smile that turned your insides into absolute mush. 

He opens the door for you and you go in. It’s a clean apartment, which you appreciate. The scent of paint and hints of soft vanilla tickles your nose, you step instead with a smile and Marcus follows, closing the door with a soft click. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he says a bit bashfully. You turn with a raised eyebrow, prompting him to explain. He points towards the canvas, then down to the ground, your gaze follows. “The paints.” 

You shrug, “You’re an artist. I’d figured there’d be some paint.” you add shortly after. “In fact, I expected more.” 

Marcus leads you to the couch, hand gentle as it presses against the small of your back. A shudder crawls up your spine, a flame awakening between your legs. You swallow thickly. 

“I’ve been having a bit of a dry spell,” his grin widens as you give him a look. “I was talking about my art but honestly haven’t been the most fortunate in that apartment either.” 

“Tortured artist,” you murmur, eyes flitting across his face. “Classic.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs. His other hand slides to your waist, the other moving up from the middle of your stomach and gliding up between your breasts until he tucks his fingers under your chin, holding you with a thumb and a forefinger. The chocolate of his eyes is gone, leaving you to stare into complete darkness. He smiles hungrily—stares at you as if he’s been waiting for you since the end of times and not that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go. “I’m everything but classic.” 

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, exposing hard teeth. Your heart flutters and you smile. It should frighten you. The obsession in his eyes. Your stomach jumps, the skin over bone growing taut. Your breathing goes heavy, your gaze dropping to his lips multiple times within the silence. He knows. He knows how badly you want him and that only turns you on. You’ve never been anyone’s first choice before, never caught the eye of a stranger at a bar. People felt relaxed around you but that didn’t entice them enough to actually want you or be with you. Obsession was like kryptonite for a lonely person. A drug. 

And man did you want your fill of it. 

Your pulse raises, “Why haven’t you been able to paint?” you ask. 

His plush lips part with a soft, slow sight. A rumble follows his breath as it ghosts your cheeks. Marcus slides his fingers around your throat, the thin cheap chain of your necklace burning your skin as he presses forward. 

“I haven’t been feeling inspired,” he says. “Lost my muse.” 

Your breath hitches and he cocks his head to the side, his smile softening around the edges. “I’m feeling quite inspired now, though.” 

“You don’t say,” You’re surprised at how sultry your voice is, how hoarse it became in mere seconds. “You think you found your muse?” 

He tightens his grip and arousal gathers at the seam of your underwear, you feel the brush of his lips against yours. 

“I believe I have.” 

You’ve always had an obsession with the color blue. It soothes you. And you often associate it with life itself. Water, the sky. All the most important things in human life are blue, but the color of the water isn’t real, it comes from the sky. A mirage. After learning about it, you only grew fonder of the color, relating to it. 

Marcus’s lips taste like that. Something that you see but surely couldn’t be real, a mirage of your darkest desires perhaps? He tastes like heaven and hell and you want more and more and more—

He slips his tongue between your lips, licking himself deep into your mouth. You mimic him, flattening your tongue over his and allowing him to suck the tender muscle into his mouth. You feel his hands everywhere; on your ass, hip, breasts. He squeezes them, rubs his thumb enough so peeks form despite your bra and dress. You moan into his mouth, eyes nearly rolling back from how hot it suddenly is. 

Then suddenly you’re being pulled back, all you ever wanted taken from you. 

“Let me paint you,” he suddenly gasps. He rubs himself against yours, the length of him hard against your stomach. You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Wouldn’t that take long?” you whine. His eyes lit up with amusement. “I mean. . .I would love that but I’d rather. . . be with you.” 

“Is my sweet muse suddenly shy?” he teases, nudging your nose together. “When I say paint you I don’t mean paint a portrait of you—I mean I. Want. To. Paint. You.” 

“Oh,” you hear the blood rushing to your ears, your cheeks starting to warm under his gaze. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Good,” he says and fully pulls away, turning his gaze to the blank canvas. Your eyes follow. He seems to be staring directly into the middle of it, you don’t know why, you wish you could see what he sees. 

Then his head suddenly snaps back to you, almost making you jump, “I’m thinking blue.” 

You hope to disguise your surprise, but from the way he smiles, you know he sees something on your face to prompt the expression. “Yes,” he says nonchalantly. “Blue.” 

It seems that not much preparation is needed for him to paint you. To turn you into his personalized canvas to use. After laying down a rather large white fabric on the floor, he places various colored paints and brushes. Marcus gets behind you, fingers playing with the fabrics of your dress. You shiver at the brush of his fingers. He kisses your neck, the wet of his tongue tasting your skin. 

“Will you strip for me?” he asks. 

Your answer is ready on your lips, “Yes.” 

And he pushes down the straps, lowers your zipper. The dress pools at your ankles and you step out of the waves of fabric. You want to give him a show. 

Turning to him, you unclasp your bra. His eyes follow the curves of them immediately, taking in the sight of your peeked nipples, the way they sag in their natural beauty when the bra is removed. You would normally be embarrassed but the feeling escapes you entirely, no matter how longingly he observes your details. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours. “Show me the rest of you.” 

Slowly leaning forward you hook your thumbs under the pretty lace and pull it down, it drops to your ankles. A chill settles at the base of your spine when the cool air hits your wet, warm pussy. Marcus licks his lips, eyes eating you hungrily before meeting your gaze once more. He takes a step forward and cups your mound with the entirety of his palm. A soft moan trembles within the confinements of your throat as he begins to stroke between your folds with two thick fingers. 

“So wet already,” he murmurs, breath tickling your heated cheeks. “You must feel it too, this pull between us. The crimson ropes of faith telling you that you’re mine.” 

You don’t miss the way his soft cadence shifts into something of a silent growl, he presses the heel of his palm against your clit and you gasp, the tender nub throbs. “Lay down,” he orders, hand slipping to your waist, you feel the wet streaks he leaves on your skin. 

“Tell me why you wanted to go out tonight,” Marcus says while you’re lying down, from the corner of your eyes you see him reaching for brushes and blue paint. “I want to know how your mind works.” 

“Well, it’s not that interesting really,” a nervous laughter escapes you. You stare at the ceiling, it makes you feel oddly relaxed even though you’re stark naked. “I’m just tired of being alone. I wanted to have fun, and see if I could. . . find someone that’d wanna spend time with me.” 

“I guess you hit the jackpot then,” he answers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Because I certainly want to spend time with you.” 

Your breath hitches. You want to argue, tell him that he barely knows you yet and that he should give it time before he tucks his tail between his legs and runs. But you have an inkling that he does, in fact, know you. You feel that invisible thread holding you together and even though your feelings had let you astray before, you want to believe the bond this time. 

The cool, wet end of the brush hovers an inch above your body, a subtle chill bursting across your skin, “I’m telling you the truth you know,” he murmurs as if reading your mind. “I’ll never get sick of this feeling. Never.” 

Then you feel it. The cold paint swirling around your breast, tickling your skin, shortening your breath. Marcus smiles at the way your back curves, pushing yourself further into the brush despite the way it makes you shiver. Arousal blossoms between your legs, forcing your legs together, Marcus tuts with the click of his tongue and pushes himself between them so they stay spread for him to witness your glimmering core. 

He moves the brush over your nipple, you feel the paint slowly drying around your breast, the swirl of the bristles makes your nipples harden and skin grow taut. 

“You look good in blue,” he mutters, rolling his hips. The outline of his cock brushes over your throbbing clit and with your lips parting, you push yourself down, following him. “When was the last time you’ve been with someone?” Marcus asks suddenly, taking you by surprise. 

“It’s been a while,” you answer, averting your gaze. “Have I made it that obvious?” 

His brows furrow with regret, “Sweetheart no, I was just curious. And I have to admit, I also asked due to some selfishness on my part. Would have to fuck you hard if you’d told me you’ve been with someone else yesterday.” 

The words go straight to your cunt, the tender flesh bottoming out as a wanton moan escapes your lips. The brush moves down to your navel, dipping to your belly button. “So possessive already,” you tease, pressing your legs against his hips. 

Marcus leans low enough that your lips nearly touch, you hold your breath, your pulse loud in your ears. His smile is dangerous and dark when he whispers. 

“So you’re telling me you’d be completely fine if I told you I fucked someone raw over the same floor you’re sprawled out for me now?” Your eyes go wide, anger and jealousy burrowing itself deep in your stomach. His smile grows but he’s not done, he licks the curve of your bottom lip. “Would you be okay if I said I came inside some random woman only yesterday because I was lonely, telling her how good her pussy made me feel? What about if I told you how I bit into her neck? How I ruined her for anyone else that’s gonna come after me—” 

You cut his words by pushing a hand over his mouth. You watch wide-eyed as you smear blue paint over his lips and cheeks that you’d gathered by brushing your palm over your stomach. You feel his smile on your skin branding you. “Did you?” you ask, your voice gone hoarse. 

His eyes become soft, the cruel teasing from earlier melting away, he shakes his head. You let out a breath, lungs caving in. “Okay,” you whisper, dropping your hand. “S-Sorry.” 

Marcus holds your wrist and presses his lips into the curve of your palm, a blue lip mark forming on your skin, “Don’t be,” he says. “This wouldn’t be as fun if we didn’t behave the same way.” 

Marcus leaves the brush somewhere near your head and dips his fingers into a shade of red that reminds you of blood. The marks he leaves on you look like claws. As if you’ve been ripped apart by some vicious creature. He doesn’t stop and continues to pain. He draws various shapes with wet fingers, murmuring praise, kissing you where he wishes, leaving blue lips across your bare skin. 

You’re quivering by the time he finally slides down and pushes your thighs up his broad shoulders. The sheet underneath you is damp with arousal, your clit aching with the need to be touched. 

Marcus blows a teasing puff of hair and your entire body clenches, your toes curling into the thin fabric. “Please,” you beg. “Give me your mouth, fingers, anything—” 

Something dark crosses his face but he seems to decide against it and gives you what you want. His lips are soft as he kisses your pussy, slow and sensual. He dips the tip of his tongue between the tender folds and moans at the taste of you. Your brain short circuits when he wraps his devilish lips around your clit, sucking hard on the bundle of nerves, your hips stutter up, meeting the fat strokes of his tongue. 

He grips your hips and pins them down, pushing his tongue deeper inside of you. Your breath catches in your throat. When you look down you see red hand prints all over the outside of your thighs, the sight alone forcing a fresh gush of wetness to coat his tongue. Marcus ground and swirls his tongue around your clit as he looks up. 

“You taste amazing,” he mumbles, pupils blown wide. “I can spend every hour between these gorgeous thighs.” 

Before you can answer he purses his lips, your eyes go wide and your body burns, you watch intently as a drop of saliva stretches from between his lips and lands on your cunt. You shudder. 

“You like that?” he rasps, rubbing two fingers over your clit, smearing the spit all around. Your insides clench. “You want me to make a mess of you, sweetheart? Answer me.” 

“Yes,” you whimper. “I want it all—I want to be your dirty little whore that you make a mess of.” 

“Fuck—” he hisses, this time when he purses his lips, he spits more violently and presses his mouth immediately after. He flattens his tongue and moves his jaw as he sucks, licks and bites. “My dirty whore?” he repeats your words, his tone unbelieving. “God, you’re so fucking perfect. My perfect little whore, all you want to do is come on my face and let me pull you apart with my cock, isn’t it?” 

You nod helplessly, the coil in your stomach tightening, you cradle his head and grind yourself against him. This time Marcus doesn’t stop you, allows you to smear your wetness all over his smooth skin. You hear the words ‘perfect’ and ‘whore’ repeated over and over again, the sounds of each word reverberating against your clit. 

Instead of white, you see bright blue and shards of red. 

He sucks on your clit—hard. You scream his name. Your hips gyrating and stuttering into his wanting mouth. Marcus groans loudly, slurping as his tongue laps at your core, swallowing every drop. Your lungs burn. Your eyes throbbing from rolling so deep into their sockets. Never—Never in your life had you come so hard. Especially not with a man. It would be the toys that pushed you off the edge and your vivid imagination. 

“Fuck, baby, that was amazing—” he says wetly. You tremble. “Can you do it again?” 

You nod but just as he’s about to dive back in, you tug on his hair, drawing his attention back to you. Your chest heaves helplessly, your cunt fluttering to feel his tortuous mouth on you once more. “Want to taste you too,” you slur. “Use me.” 

He pushes himself back so he’s sitting on his heels, you’d forgotten that Marcus was still fully clothed. You eye him hungrily. His cock strains painfully against the fabric of his pants and all you want to do is wrap your mouth around the width of him. 

Marcus robs himself through the fabric, smiling, “You want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then, lay back down.” 

You frown but do what he says anyway. You had expected him to ask you to get on your knees instead, your mouth watering at the thought of struggling to take him whole. The scent of paint is thick in the air and once again you’re staring at the ceiling. You hear the faint sound of fabric falling to the hardwood floors. Soon enough he’s standing near your head, fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking himself lazily while looking down at you. 

Before he can say anything, you reach out. He holds your hand with a slight surprise and finally takes a step closer. “How did I get so lucky tonight?” he mutters, both his thighs bracketing your head as he sinks down. 

Marcus doesn’t sit fully, his body hovering enough so your mouth can reach his pretty cock. You follow the path of the throbbing vein with the tip of your tongue and a drop of precome oozes down from the slit, landing on your chin. You grin widely at the way he shudders, enjoying that he is breaking down just as easily. His breath comes in short pants, the puffs of hot air stimulating your clit deliciously. He kisses your mound and lowers his hips, you dutifully suck on the head, swirling your tongue, your heart leaps at the way he moans into you. 

He twitches on your tongue, “Can I fuck your mouth, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice hoarse and thick. “I can’t take it.” 

Instead of using your words, you press your palms on his ass and push him down until he’s halfway in and you’re choking. His sigh of relief echoes across the living room. He thrusts again, pulling back until the tip is touching your lips before snapping them back down again. Your throat seizes around him as he goes down inch by inch. You love the way he has surrounded you compelled. His body like a weighted blanket while his tongue delves deeper into you. 

Marcus groans loudly, and you feel his hips start to buck faster and more erratically. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, letting him take control of the pace. He pulls back, then he plunges back in all the way to the hilt, making spit and come trickle down the corners of your stretched-out lips. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he praises, his voice strangled with pleasure. “My sweet little whore, such a perfect hole for me.” 

He closes his lips around your clit and draws various shapes around the tender flesh. You moan around him in response, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. 

His hips jerk with each movement. You can feel his cock swelling in your mouth, and you know he’s close to coming. You take him as deep as you can, wanting to feel him pulse and release inside you. You can barely breathe, your own release right around the corner and he knows it—he knows it and presses his lips even harder, moves his tongue with more vigor until he tears your orgasm from you. 

You cry our around his cock and that only spurs him on, fucking into your mouth deeper, harder. 

With one final thrust, Marcus moans and buries himself deep between your lips. His hot release shoots down your throat, some of it dribbling onto your chin and chest. 

“Don’t swallow,” he suddenly says, his voice riddled with authority that makes you throb. He pulls out of your mouth with a soft groan, and you wait until his face comes back into view. “Open your mouth, baby,” he mutters. You do and he shoves two fingers inside, smearing his seed all around your lips and down your body, he mixes it with the blue and red paint that marks you as his own. “You look stunning,” he murmurs, his eyes glued to your body. 

Then he leans down and kisses you fiercely, his tongue seeking out the sweet taste of his own release. Those same lips slide down to your throat, biting and licking, as he lays down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

Your body seeks his own. Your face burrowing into the solace of his neck, the dried paint leaving flakes of color across his skin while his come leaves shiny stains. The taste of him is now tainted with hints of fear and uncertainty. 

“I’m afraid,” you sniffle into the crook of his neck, and he holds you tighter. “I don’t want this to end. For it to become another memory that is out of reach.” 

“It won’t,” he murmurs, lips moving along your forehead. “Don't you already know how sick with love I am for you?”

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event (Part 1)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

(you'll see full art when I finish because it's spoilery as fuck I realized (too late))

SUMMARY: You accidentally the whole Coca-Cola bottle summoned Raphael (or so you'd think) to Earth.

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 4

“Buonasera”, Raphael leaned against the doorframe, taking in your appearance. "You look ravishing," he said before giving you a brief kiss on the cheek. 

You could feel his light stubble grazing against your skin. Notes of cherries and leather wafted off of him. No sulphur.

Ravishing was perhaps too grand a term, but you put in your best effort. You wore a black dress. While choosing, you went through wanting to be extravagant, then classic, then unconventional, then elegant again, and landed on a little black dress because you thought the devil in a suit would like it.

He, for his part, looked immaculate (of course). His crisp white shirt was expertly pressed, a sleek black waistcoat around his torso. His trench coat hung open, and he played with his car keys.

That surprised you. You had imagined he’d have a chauffeur in a black peak cap, driving a long black limousine. Could Raphael even drive a car? Did he learn to drive for you? Is it difficult to learn to drive a car? You had no driving licence and no idea.

"Thank you, come on in," you invited, breathing in and out low and steady. Did this invitation hold any significance, like with vampires? "I'll just grab my bag and I am ready to go. Do I need to take anything? My wallet?"

You were slowly getting used to the thought of Raphael being real, you mused to yourself. Well, real. At least a constant hallucination in your life.

"Only if you are planning to offend me," he replied with a laugh. “And I hope you are not”.

Raphael followed you into your flat, taking in the surroundings with a half-pitiful, half-amused expression that said “I'm not saying anything because I am well-mannered, but I'm thinking a lot to myself." Well, yes. Not the House of Hope, not even an upper scale apartment, just a run-down studio, forty-six square metres, overdue for some renovation. What more could a young professional afford in today's economy?

Raphael briefly glanced at your open laptop with disinterest, then his eyes lingered on your neatly made bed with its white, slightly faded linen. A small smile formed on his lips as if he entertained a certain thought.

You had entertained quite some thoughts about him while lying on that very bed. 

Snatching your phone, keys, and card holder, you cleared your throat and put on an "I'm prepared for whatever comes next" expression as Raphael's eyes moved from the bed to settle between your breasts.

Not in a suggestive way.

"Oh...you are Catholic?" His tone suddenly shifted - was it cautious, repulsed, or bewildered? 

"No, I am not religious," you responded, shaking your head and taking a step towards the exit. Raphael didn't budge. The raised eyebrow at the cross around your neck hinted that he wasn't entirely convinced. "You mean the cross? My mother gave it to me for protection and… ugh, protection," you added.

“The age gap between us was not lost on me, but I never imagined you were still young enough to seek fashion advice from your mother," he remarked with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

It was clear what he wanted - the cross had to go. You recalled the black screen in the video and your own possessed, sickly face.

The cross stays on. 

You didn’t believe in God (well, you did believe a bit more now), but the cross stays on. Even during sex. Especially during sex.

“Does the cross bother you?”, you asked.

"Why would it bother me?", he questioned. "Because I am the devil?"

Oh, there you go. Is it confession time already? 

You remained silent, refusing to fall into a trap again. Let him say what he wanted.

He did not say anything, but he extended his hand and gently grasped the cross. Shit. Shit. Raphael traced his thumb along the edges almost as if he was trying to decipher its meaning.

There was no recoil, no burning, no hissing. Part of you hoped there would be. Part of you thought there should be. Then again, there is no Christ in Toril. 

"Ah, the agony! It burns, the Holy Symbol, it burns!" Raphael made a half-hearted attempt at a pained grimace before letting go of your cross. "Yes, after you referred to me as Raphael twice, I did some investigating. A computer game devil, is he not?”

Referring to a video game as "a computer game" was a very authentic boomer move, you had to admit. 

Two can play this game, Raphael.

"Well, I wouldn't say Raphael is THE devil," you said casually. "He's just A devil."

Raphael tilted his head in amusement. 

There was something oppressive about his presence, the way he stood taller than you, the way he took up more space than he should have, making your apartment look tiny.

“To be fair”, you continued. ”He’s not even that. He’s a cambion, half human, one of the lowest beings in the levels of hells. He likes calling himself a devil for effect though; probably gets a kick out of scaring people.”

Definitely gets a kick out of scaring people. There, you said it. Now let's see if Raphael would drop the act.

You held your breath as silence stretched between you - five seconds...four...three...two...one...

Would your screams reach the neighbours?

Would they call the police?

And if they did, would the police even help? What happens if they shoot him? Will he bleed black blood? Why were you even thinking about that right now?

"Well," Raphael finally broke the silence and placed a gentle hand on your waist, guiding you towards the door. "Judging by his many admirers, it seems some people quite enjoy being scared. Shall we depart?"

God damn it.

You gave a quick nod, trying to subtly adjust your right stocking which felt slightly loose. You had bought them on Sunday but hadn't tried them on yet (which you should have done). Raphael noticed but pretended not to, his hand on your back guiding you downstairs.

The door closed and you wished it farewell. 

Who knows if you'll ever see it again.

****

Raphael's car was exactly what one would expect from him if he did drive one - flashy, shiny, predatory; a sleek beast painted in blood red. The kind of car that turned heads and started conversations among curious onlookers. 

The kind of car that made teenage boys gather around in awe, wondering how he could afford it and why he was driving it in this neighbourhood. 

And so they did, and so you stumbled upon it, surrounded by admirers.

"Nice car, sir!" exclaimed one of them. "Is it a Maserati? A Gran Turismo, right? How fast can it go from zero to sixty?"

"In less than four seconds. Work hard and you might own one someday too, boy," Raphael replied. “More than one if you are any good”.

"Uh-huh," the teenager said, not entirely convinced. You couldn't blame him; you were not entirely convinced either.

You considered yourself a socialist and always voted left (well, you voiced your opinions more often than you voted, but still), but a socialist getting into a Maserati was a bit of an oxymoron, so you decided to put politics aside for tonight. Besides, you weren't sure you wanted to hear Raphael's political opinions on... well, anything at all.

"Or you could always sell your soul to me. Is that not right, Anya?", Raphael turned to you with a playful wink. Now it was your turn to say "uh-huh" and adjust your stocking again. 

The gaggle of boys took their cue and dispersed as Raphael stepped forward to open the passenger door for you. You tried to sit down as gracefully as you could, but the leather creaked against your skin and your dress rose to obscene heights. 

Quickly, you tugged it back down.

Without a word, Raphael started the car and pulled away from the curb. He was no stranger to this routine - following traffic laws, navigating through the city streets. He felt at ease behind the wheel, it’s not the first time he has driven a sports car.

Something didn't feel right. It all seemed like too much effort; the complicated act, blending into society, creating a false background. Raphael knew who he was, and so did you. So why did he insist on pretending to be someone else? Not even someone entirely different, someone so clearly inspired by himself.

He must be testing you, but for what reason, to what end, for what? Loyalty? Endurance? Ability to take psychic damage?

There is always another truth: there is no bloody devil (of course there isn’t). There is a young woman going through acute psychosis in isolation. You might be now banging your head in a room with very soft carpets on the walls, imagining yourself to be driving in a fancy car with a man you fancied-oh-so-much. 

You need proof. You need solid proof. For your own sanity. The thing is, when you need to prove that you are sane, you are half-insane already. 

"I must say, this is not the safest neighbourhood for a young woman living alone," Raphael said, scanning the area with a wary eye.

Oh, the neighbourhood was fine, he was the most dangerous thing around these parts by far. At times, you would encounter a few junkies asking for spare change or hear about your neighbour getting mugged. 

“I am afraid that’s all I can afford. Have you seen the rent prices nowadays?”, you chuckled. “Well, you probably haven’t.”

“On the contrary,” Raphael shook his head. “I am well aware. I have several investment properties inside and outside the city.”

“Well, that is exactly why I cannot afford anything nicer.”

"That can change at a moment's notice," he said and gave you a sly smile. "Quicker than you might think."

You couldn't suppress your coquettish grin; his words reminded you of his generous gift from earlier - a cool grand handed over just like that. Not that you were mercantile (not that you ever had much of a chance to be, either); but if you were living in an imaginary world, might as well imagine yourself wealthy too.  Socialism is…

Well, for real life.

"Where are we headed?" you asked as he merged onto a busy street. “Is there an address?”

"Why? Do you want to send it to your mother?" Raphael's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. “For protection?”

Still cannot let go of you wearing the cross?

"Yes, I do. Just in case you decide to keep me locked up in chains in your basement," you joked. 

Sort of joked.

He glanced at you, and you couldn't help but wonder if you had finally hit a nerve.

"On our first date? I am a gentleman, an old-fashioned one at that," he retorted, feigning insult. "I'll ensure you reach home safely, plant a goodnight kiss and wish you sweet dreams."

Not exactly how you envisioned the night ending, but you chose not to argue.

“The address is Grand Rue 3, the old theatre,” Raphael said. “If you do not make it home tonight, tell your mother to check the basement.”

It’s the centre, the very centre. Nobody gets killed in the centre of the city. In the bushes, in the slums, in the outskirts, but not in the centre. It’s too much hassle.

Right?

“The one at the street corner? I didn’t think it was open.”

“For the general public, it is not”, Raphael said. “For the few who are invited, it is.”

You drove in silence for some time, and then you spoke up:

“So, is there a play there or…”

Hopefully there was also a dinner, you thought as you nervously adjusted your stocking, because you were so bloody hungry.

“You will find out enough”, Raphael said. “Anya, dear, I have seen the lace on your stockings in every little detail already, so do not bother pulling them up.”

You hastily pulled up your stockings.

“They’re new...I think I took the wrong size. Too large.”

"Well then, take them off. There is no use trying to keep them from slipping down, and it is quite a distracting sight."

You gave him an incredulous look; unsure if he was serious.

He seemed pretty serious about it. That’s some old-fashioned gentleman.

"Take them off?", you repeated.

As the car slowed down to halt near a corner street, you contemplated checking if the doors were locked but decided against it - no subtle way to do that.

"You heard me correctly," Raphael confirmed, leaning back and taking his time to examine you. 

Yeah, okay. Okay. That’s a perfectly normal and a justified request, or at least you would act as if it were.

With some hesitation, you removed your shoes first and then gradually rolled down your stockings to reveal your freshly waxed legs. You tried to make it look sensual but ended up feeling more like a rookie stripper or a soldier executing orders.

His eyes were glued to you as you undressed. It was the sort of stare that makes skin tingle.

It felt pretty good.

By the time you pulled your stockings off, your panties were much wetter than when you got into the car. Raphael knew it, and you knew that he knew it. He had access to every dirty little fantasy in your browser history. 

On the other hand, you were completely oblivious to his kinks; the only hints you got were Haarlep and the debtors in the House of Hope. It's hard to say which of those is the most disturbing.

"Such exquisite feet," he complimented. "Lovely nail polish. I do adore crimson red."

What was it about the way he said it that felt so... dirty?

Raphael then glanced at the scar on your knee and asked, "Now, is there anything else you bought just for me that keeps slipping?"

Everything you wore you bought new for him, panties to bra, except for the cross.

"I am just teasing," he chuckled, cutting you off just as your lips parted to retort. "We have arrived."

Raphael signalled someone outside. A uniformed valet appeared at your side of the door, reaching for the handle with his gloved hand. The door swung open with a soft click.

A cool gust of wind brushed against your bare legs as you stepped out into one of the quieter corners in the city centre. You couldn't exactly recall when this quaint theatre was built but if asked, you'd guess it was a relic from early 20th century opulence. Red bricks and stone columns stood tall amidst modern buildings like a stubborn old man refusing to budge.

Raphael casually tossed the keys into the air with a quick flick of his wrist. 

The valet caught them mid-flight.

***

You were not sure what you had expected.

A password in Latin to enter, people in mysterious white masks, cultists chanting in circles around Raphael, hailing him as their new god, something out of Eyes Wide Shut. The reality was much more mundane. Still high-end, but lacking the unhinged allure you might have imagined. Just the private turf of the rich, the only odd thing being the electric entrance sign that read:

"MAGIC THEATER. ENTRANCE NOT FOR EVERYBODY. FOR MADMEN ONLY!"

Since you could pass the threshold, you assumed you were mad enough to pass the bar.

As you stepped inside, your eyes met those of an older man with a rugged face and a thin scar under his eye in the cloakroom. Raphael handed him his pair of identical black iPhones and AirPods, and then it was your turn to do the same.

It took you a moment to process the fact that Raphael had gotten himself not one but two iPhones just to pass himself off as a human, high-profile lawyer. You followed suit, handing over your electronic devices after one last long look. The last hour was the longest you'd gone without looking at your phone.

queen-of-the-bored: look we are all freaking out after what happened to your twitch

queen-of-the-bored: that’s some creepy pasta shit PLEASE write something PLEASE

“E’ un piacere rivederla capo! Che bella ragazza che ha rimediato!”, the man's words were directed at Raphael as he helped you out of your jacket.

“Vero, vero”, Raphael nodded in agreement. “E’ stupenda e non sa nemmeno di esserlo”.

What were they saying? They were talking about you, you could feel it.

“Non c'è niente di meglio!”, the man continued with a sycophantic grin on his face as he took Raphael's trench coat. He had a rose and a skull tattoo on his wrist.

“Beh, è completamente fuori di testa. Pensa che io sia il diavolo, in senso letterale”. 

“Le più sexy sono quelle pazze, capo!”

Your knowledge of Italian was minimal at best. The only words you understood were "devil" and "sexy." Neither of which gave any insight into the situation, and that these words fit perfectly together you had known before. 

The theatre was converted into a private club and restaurant, keeping the stage, but adding the chairs and the table and the sofas, the leather-bound books on the walls, the mahogany tables, the smell of cigars and whisky in the air. The only infernal or infernal-looking symbol you could spot was a square and a compass sigil on red velvet curtains. 

Everyone knew Raphael. 

A crowd of well-dressed men and women reached out to greet him; they exchanged words, smiles, kisses on the cheek (was that an Italian thing?), pats on the back. They looked at you as if you were beautiful or interesting. 

Was it because you were supposed to be beautiful, accompanied by such a man?

Raphael’s hand never left your back as he exchanged pleasantries. He seldom spoke English to them. French, Italian, German, Russian, Turkish. The sound of a foreign language can be pretty, but it can also be eerie, discerning, the us-versus-them thing. Hearing them speak was rather the latter.

You couldn't guess who these people were. There is very little difference between how a businessman, a politician or a criminal look; besides, these three professions were perfectly compatible. 

The debtors, probably; not literally in chains yet, but certainly owing something and in some kind of servitude.

The prime spot in the room was yours—or rather, it was Raphael's. The table had been marked, a lone initial "R" carved into its surface.

When the waiter suggested an aperitif, you selected a Negroni Sbagliato, because you thought it sounded sophisticated (and so did Olivia Cooke), Raphael ordered "bourbon and blood" because of course he would. You didn't even question if he meant actual blood.

As you chewed on your lip, your eyes darting around the room, Raphael reached across the table. His fingers brushed against yours before he lifted your hand to his lips. “Anya, may I make a small confession?"

"Yes?"

A soft kiss was pressed into your knuckles as he murmured, "I am delighted to have you here with me tonight. Believe it or not, I am but a lonely tired man in a dire need of pleasant company."

His genuine sincerity, the lines around his eyes and the hint of sadness in them disarmed you for a moment. 

Who the fuck was this man?

Before you could answer, the curtain opened to reveal a small figure behind it.

It was a dwarf. Not the fantasy dwarf, an actual dwarf - you struggled to recall the politically correct term for them - was it "little person?". He was like something from a lucid dream: crimson suit-clad, slick-backed hair on pale skin, moving with an almost rhythmic grace.

Right. Twin Peaks. Could Raphael read your thoughts? Did he know you were thinking about Laura Palmer?

Or perhaps he too was a David Lynch fan?

"Welcome, dear ones," the little man said, his voice surprisingly deep. "I am grateful for your presence tonight. Some of you I have known since the millennia, while others are new to my realm."

He was looking at you. He meant you.

Raphael squeezed your hand tighter, fingers intertwined, an oddly intimate gesture, as if you’d been dating for a long time. You squeezed back, feeling comforted and sheltered in his touch.

“There are rules that govern this place”, the little man continued. “Rules, as well all know, are under no circumstances not to be broken, or there would be consequences. Same rules apply to everyone”.

“What are the rules?”, you whispered.

Raphael flashed you a wide smile, wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.

“Patience, he will tell us”, he whispered back. “They are never the same. If they were, would that be interesting?”

Consistency would be nice, you thought.

“You, little miss!”, the little man pointed his finger at you. “Yes, you, you specifically, little miss, little-miss-with-the-cross. Tell me, how well can you distinguish reality from fantasy?”

Oh, how you despise being the centre of attention. All eyes on you. All of them. These rich, strange, scary people looking at you and your naked legs and your weird knees and your…

“Not very well”, you said. “Not very well at all, I am afraid”.

The dwarf cackled, Raphael followed suit, everybody laughed, and you were not joking at all. 

“Yes, she is remarkably honest”, Raphael praised, giving you an adoring kiss on the cheek. “A wonderful quality, is it not?”

“Shall we give it a little try, little miss?”, the dwarf asked.

Why you? Out of all people, why did it have to be you? Because you were with him?

"Come now, don't be shy”, Raphael chimed in. “There is nothing to fear in this place."

(Except me).

"Would you lend a hand, R?" The dwarf turned his attention to Raphael.

“It would be my absolute pleasure," he replied and positioned himself behind your chair. "Eyes forward," he instructed as you attempted to swivel towards him.

Raphael’s fingers gently grazed your cheek before sliding behind your head. 

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold being secured over your eyes and instinctively clutched the armrests of your chair tighter. The room was plunged into darkness, every sound amplified; the rustling of his clothes, the creaking of the chairs beneath you, the whispering and giggling of others in the room, and your own heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. 

Raphael's hands rested on your shoulders.

"I want you to try this and tell me what it tastes like", came the dwarf’s voice from somewhere ahead, as the waiter (you presumed) set the table before you. “Let imagination be your guide.”

Taste? Taste without looking? You heard the sound of Raphael picking up a fork and piercing something in front of you. 

“Open wide”, Raphael said. 

If you could say no when he would make such a request, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

So open wide is what you did and let Raphael push something between your lips and onto your tongue. You sucked and then bit down. 

The texture was unlike anything you had ever tasted before - bubbly, tenderly sweet with a savoury undertone, slightly slick and a bit challenging to chew. 

You didn’t have the faintest clue what it could be.

“It’s an…”, you took a wild guess. “it’s a.. it’s a piece of lamb in some sugar sauce, I think?”

There were a lot of excited laughs and giggles at your response. 

What did you try? 

What the fuck did you try? Your hands darted to your eyes to remove the blindfold, but were halted mid-way by a soft but very insistent touch.

“Keep the blindfold on until instructed otherwise,” Raphael warned before removing it himself.

You looked down at your plate and let out a loud exhale. Tiny glazed apple pieces, arranged in this typical Michelin restaurant artsy fashion, sat innocently on the large round dish. Why did the thought of meat cross your mind? What triggered that thought?

"Did your imagination run a little too wild there, little miss?" the dwarf laughed. “Seeing things that are not there?”

I know what you are all playing at, you thought bitterly. And I know who the fuck you all are, Raphael from Baldur’s Gate and the little man from Twin Peaks and I am not fucking crazy despite all your insinuations. 

“Dear ones, tonight we will serve five courses in complete darkness. Under no circumstance should you remove your blindfold; if needed, our waitstaff will guide you to restrooms. Guess what we serve tonight - at evening's end, we reveal the truth of it all”.

You said nothing while looking at the glistening apple. You never thought so much of an apple before; of how structure and taste and smell should be, of how it would (should) feel against your gums and teeth.

You kept staring at the glazed apples and thought of all the disgusting things it might have been instead. Brains? Tongues? Worms? A roasted dwarf leg?

“Rapha..”, you began and quickly corrected yourself. “Raul, just one thing, I… I do not eat human flesh”.

His response came after two slow blinks.

“Thank you for that wonderful piece of information. What am I supposed to do with it?”.

Not serving human meat would be a good start.

"Oh my little girl," Raphael cooed as he tenderly stroked your cheek. 

(why do you allow him to call you his little girl why this is disgusting this is so hot)

"You don’t seriously think…”, he continued. “Even if I had such inclinations - which I don't - cannibalism is illegal in this country.”

Oh yes, of course, he was a very lawful, very rule-abiding devil.

“And if it was legal?”, you asked.

"Anya," Raphael sighed heavily, "Your questions intrigue and frighten me in equal measures. Now, put on your blindfold." He added when he saw your hesitation: "Of course I will do the same - same rules apply”.

You trusted him to do as he said, since you put on your blindfold first. 

"As a warm-up, we have something that may bring back memories of your childhood," the waiter announced as he set down a dish in front of you. Your fingers searched and found the accompanying spoon. 

You breathed in the scent, which was so mild it told you nothing. Even if it turned out to be terrible or disgusting, you still wanted to taste it; you still wanted to do rather than not do; after a lifetime of not doing rather than doing.

The first spoonful exploded with nostalgia – kindergarten, afternoon naps, finger paints. The creamy texture and subtle sweetness with a touch of honey. 

Quite lovely, actually.

On the other side of the table, you heard a strangled gasp as if someone had just been forced to eat live worms.

"You don't like it?" you asked.

"I do not," Raphael responded gruffly. "But I am well aware that was the intention, so my compliments to the chef."

You wondered that a lot about him. The motherless childhood, growing up in hells, an evil bastard for a father. A chanceless, bleak fate, to be born evil, among evil, for evil, all privilege and no hope. If only Raphael would answer truthfully about that instead of spinning tales about some Italian village.

"I remember when we first met when you mistook me for an actor," Raphael mused out of nowhere. "That's when I first thought we had a certain… connection."

“I thought it happened way earlier”, you said, because it happened way earlier for you.

"Ha! True, I thought you were an exquisitely stunning woman the moment I walked into this cafe, if a little... skittish... which, I must say, adds to your allure. But then again, I've had my fair share of beauties... No matter. You see, I do have an affinity for the theatre".

“Oh really? How surprising”, you laughed pretty humorlessly. The ongoing joke about "I am not who you think I am" was getting rather stale for your taste.

"Indeed," came Raphael's self-assured response. "This place owes much to... ever heard of Antonin Artaud and his Theatre of Cruelty?"

"No, but it sounds like something you would love," you said.

"You hardly know me well enough to make such judgements," he said. "And if you're implying that I'm cruel, rest assured that I am not; merely just." He paused before asking nonchalantly, "Do you mind if I light up?"

You shook your head, though he couldn't see it through his blindfold. He proceeded to light his cigarette regardless. You noticed a dance of light behind the fabric covering your eyes as Raphael took an indulgent, addicted inhale.

A twinge of regret stirred you; witnessing Raphael taking a drag would have been a sight. You’d bet that looked very old school and very villainous. Your Negroni was long gone, replaced by overly potent wine which you sipped on nonetheless.

“The problem with art, Arnaud thought, was the distance between the audience and the artist. The safe space. The little cosy chair you sit in, detached, protected, at a comfortable distance; never truly allowing art to flow through you”. 

"I thought the purpose of art was to explore dangerous themes in a safe space," you said.

"That's not exploration then; it's voyeuristic entertainment, nothing more," Raphael countered. “Art and safe space should not coexist in the same sentence.”

His cigarette smoke wafted towards you - sharp, biting, pungent with a metallic undertone not unlike rotten eggs left under the scorching sun for too long.

"Does it smell somewhat... off?" You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your stinging eyes.

You never smelled sulphur before, but you knew what it was the moment you smelled it.

“I beg your pardon?”, Raphael asked.

“The main course shall make you think of something - or someone - you crave for”, the waiter’s voice went straight into your ear, and you didn’t even hear him coming.

"I know exactly who it will make me think of," Raphael said slyly.

You took your first bite as if trying to drown out the scent. Spice, cherries, and raw beef so tender it practically melted on your tongue. Delicious. Sinfully delicious.

Just as you were about to enjoy your third bite, something warm and sinuous wrapped itself around your bare ankle and began to crawl upwards. Your meal lodged in your throat causing a coughing fit that rocked your body.

"Is the flavour too intense for your palate, my dear?", you could hear Raphael grinning. 

His tail, you realised as it ventured further up. The nerve of that fucking devil! Groping you with his tail and STILL pretending he was fucking Raul from a fucking Italian village!

"So, as I was saying," Raphael continued, his fork scraping against the plate as if nothing unusual was happening under the table. "Artaud wanted to eliminate aesthetic distance."

You reached down for his tail underneath the table. The thing had a mind of its own though; it slithered away swiftly before you could touch it. You tried to grab for it again, but the sneaky little bastard darted away, causing you to stumble under the table and end up between Raphael's legs in your blind chase.

"By transforming the theatre into a place where the spectator is exposed rather than pro..." You felt his hand rest gently on your head, "Anya, may I inquire what you are doing under the table?"

You froze. His hand gave you a light caress. 

"You know exactly what I am doing under the table," you managed to say through gritted teeth. "Looking for your goddamn tail."

Raphael's hand stopped in a half-stroke. For a fleeting moment, you imagined him pulling you closer by your hair until you were right up against his crotch.

"A tail?" He seemed genuinely perplexed at this point. "We may be lost in translation(*) here, but I assume what you're looking for is somewhat more... up."

Your mind conjured up an image of him showing you exactly where it was; unzipping his trousers and placing his cock between your lips.

Would you then open wide and give him a head right there, blindfolded, no questions asked, in a room full of strangers (and a weird dwarf) watching?

You would, wouldn't you? 

You wanted to touch him so badly, just one touch to see how hard he was for you; just one fleeting touch, maybe he wouldn't even notice?

"I am delighted that theatre talk has put you in such a playful mood," Raphael purred. "I did presume we would at least make it to dessert before…”

A wave of embarrassment washed over you at his words. You tumbled backwards onto the floor, right on your bum; bumped your head, too, pretty badly and pretty awkwardly.. 

"I wasn't... Damn, that's not what I..."

Raphael chuckled (you hated him in that moment) and your cheeks turned red. How dare he think you'd suck him off like that, in front of everyone?

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you tried to escape the four-legged table trap, bumping into everything you could bump into. The world turned on its axis for a moment as you finally crawled out from under the table, your legs shaking beneath you.

The smell of sulphur again. You lunged for where your glass should be, found it, almost knocked it over, caught it in time and drank the wine. You thought it would make you feel better, but it made you feel worse.

The tail decided to make a comeback and patted your thigh affectionately.

"I...excuse me," you stammered out, pressing a hand to your mouth. "I need to use the bathroom."

“I’ll escort you, ma’m”, the voice next to you said, and you jumped in surprise. Was the waiter here the entire time? Did he watch you stumble underneath the table?

What else was here the entire time? Who else?

Christ.

Well, fuck, no, not him. Anybody but him.

****

"R's new little pet, aren't you?" the words echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom as you entered. You saw a woman in the mirror, tracing her lips with a ruby red lipstick that matched her hair, and she said: "Careful."

She was older than you, but not old, mid-thirties maybe, but she looked like a woman who was thoroughly done with her life. A stale kind of beauty.

"Why?" you asked, your eyes never leaving hers in the reflection.

She laughed, as if you were asking something utterly ridiculous. Without ever giving you an answer, she gestured to four meticulously arranged lines on the marble countertop. "Want some? It's primo stuff. You won’t get any better"

You've never tried cocaine, nobody's ever offered you cocaine, you wouldn't know how to order it and you certainly wouldn't have the money for it. 

It's something that other people have done in the movies. The villains, the debauched, the corrupt elite.

"No thanks," you replied, "I'm already unhinged enough, I think."

Her high-pitched laughter filled the bathroom again. "Oh darling, we're all mad here. Absolutely fucking mad. Even me... Especially me."

"Who 'we'? What is this place?"

"The lodge? Why, a private playground." She gestured vaguely with her lipstick tube, as if to encompass everything around you. "His rules. His people. His theatre."

"And by 'him' you mean..."

Theoretically she could also mean the dwarf…

She laughed again, and you wished she'd just stop. "Oh, how sweet! You know exactly who 'he' is. The man who is going to fuck you tonight."

Okay, you hope it’s Raphael.

"I know who he is," you said, maintaining eye contact in the mirror. "But I thought Raphael had just arrived on Earth... I thought I was the one who summoned him here..."

"Summoned him? Like a demon or something?" She put another layer of lipstick on her lips, now facing forward. "'Raul likes them crazy,' they say, and boy they don't lie." 

She had just called him Raul.

What the fuck was going on?

"The one to summon him, ha," she sneered, spinning around to face you directly, her face inches away from yours. “We all think we're so special”.

"No, I don't," you said. "I never thought that. Never. Because I never was any special".

"Well that definitely makes you the special one. How about a kiss, special one?" 

How about what?

She leaned in closer still; her breath smelled of champagne and burnt caramel. You took a cautious step back.

"Oh-oh, look at her, such a tease. I can see why Raul brought you here."

That name again.

“Tell me about him”, you asked. “Tell me about that Raul”.

"Nah. No kiss, no tell", she replied nonchalantly while returning her gaze to the mirror. “Enjoy your evening.”

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event (Part 2).

(*) In some European languages, tail = cock (e.g. “Schwanz” in German).

[bteezxyewriter12]

Rocky

Pairing- San x Named Reader

Word count- 6.2k

Includes- Angst, physical fighting, underground fighting, mentions of blood, blow job, deep throating, cock riding, missionary, love making, multiple orgasms, lots of fluff at the end

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13

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San POV

"Is she here?", I ask Wooyoung

"She's coming. Don't worry about her. Focus on winning the match"

I glare at him

He knows I can't not worry about her

She's my life, everything I do is for her, of course I'm worried when she's not here yet

All my fights are in warehouses in bad seedy neighborhoods and I get really worried when she doesn't get to the fight with me

She had to work late today and she's coming from there

She's taking the bus here and I won't relax until she's next to me

"She's coming San. She always comes right?"

I nod

"She'll be here"

I know she will even though she hates when I fight

She hates watching me get hurt, get hit, bleed

She always has tears in her eyes during the match and she cries when she's fixing my injuries after the fight

I hate making her cry but we need the money I win from these fights

My minimum wage job as a cook for a noodle shop isn't cutting it

I can't get a better job because no one wants to hire an ex-convict

I was arrested for assault and battery when I beat the shit out of a guy who dared to touch her

Just walked up to her outside of a club while she was waiting for me and grabbed her ass like it was nothing

I was on my way back to her and saw him do that, saw her yell and slap him

Then he shoved her, she fell and I saw fucking red

I got to him and all I beat him to an inch of his life

If the cops didn't pull me off him, I would of killed him

I was arrested, charged with assault and battery and was sentenced to three years in prison

He was also arrested after he got out of the hospital, charged with sexual harassment and sexual assault

She told me he was sentenced to five years in prison

She waited for me, visited me in prison and when I got out no one wanted to hire me

Especially because I have a violent charge

I can't afford a trade school and I don't have the time because I have to make money for us to survive

The cook position is cash only and the only place that would hire me

She's a nail tech in a salon and doesn't make that much either

We don't have a place to live and instead live in Wooyoung's van

When I first got out of prison she moved me into her studio apartment but her neighbors found out I was an ex-con and complained to the landlord

The landlord told her I had to leave

Instead she left to be with me

I insisted she stay in the apartment but she refused

Her sister was nice enough to let her use her address so she could keep working but wouldn't let us move in

Her sister hates me

Tells my naekkeo that I'm ruining her life and I can't disagree

I am ruining her life

I tried talking her into staying at her sister's apartment, which her sister agreed to but she flat out refused, saying that she's staying with me no matter what

She told me she loves me more than anything and she's never going to leave me

Honestly I cried at that

No one, besides Wooyoung, ever cared about me, ever loved me, ever thought I was worth it

And hearing that from the one person I love most in the world made me so fucking happy

I know I'm bringing her down with me but I can't let her go

I can't survive without her

She is my absolute everything

I was looking for more ways to make money and Wooyoung told me about the fights he goes to and offered to get me into them

I agreed and have been doing this for six months aside from the cook job

Wooyoung became my manager, he gets a cut from the winnings but I take a bigger portion of it

He rents a room in an apartment so that me and my naekkeo can stay in his van for now

We got a cheap mattress that takes up the back of the van, our clothes and blankets, shoes, necessities strewn in every place they can be

We have a very small walk way right in front of the bench seat

The van is long so we have some room and it's the best we can do for now

Our problem isn't getting a place, it's continuously paying the rent that's the problem

I really don't know what to do about our situation

She works all day, everyday, at the salon and she's started taking private clients too, going to their places to do their nails

I work all day and do these fights at night, as often as I can

We're stuck and it sucks

"Can you go check outside and see if she's here?", I ask

He sighs, "Yeah ok. I'll be right back"

He leaves and I look around for my opponent

I'm not sure who it is as there are multiple fights tonight

She will only let me do one fight at a time and I give into her because I know she doesn't want me to do this at all

Scanning the room, I see big guys on one end of the room and normal looking guys like me around too

I've fought a few of the guys here before

I mostly win all my fights except in the beginning, when I first started

Aside from then, I make sure I win because we need the money badly

"Sannie", I hear behind me

Turning around, I smile at my naekkeo

"She was already coming inside when I got to her", Wooyoung says

"Hi naekkeo", I say, leaning down and kissing her soft sweet lips

"Hi Sannie", she says, anxiety in her voice as she looks around

"You ok baby?", I ask, knowing she's worried

"Yeah Sannie"

She's not a very good liar

"How was your day naekkeo?", I ask to take her mind off of the fight

"Oh, it was ok. Same stuff. Painted nails. You know", she says softly

I nod, "And the private clients you had this morning were good?"

Her salon opens at 10am and closes at 8pm

She mostly takes private clients from 7am -9:30 am and from 8:30pm to sometimes midnight

Except for days when I have fights, then she doesn't schedule any late night appointments so she can be here with me

Today she had just one at 8:30 and it's fine because the fights start at 10

"Yeah it went fine. One of the girls liked the nails I did on her and she posted it on her social media. She mentioned my name and what salon I work at"

"That's good baby!", I exclaim, smiling, "Did you put our phone number on the post too?"

We share a prepaid phone because we can't afford anything else

It's a cheap dial phone that can only make calls and texts

No Internet connection

She has a tablet her sister gave her, so to use the internet and check emails we go to a cafe that has wifi and use it there

Or she uses it on her lunch hour at work

"Yeah Sannie but you know how I feel about that"

She doesn't like to have our number out there for everyone to see but it's something we have to do for now

It increases her chances of getting extra clients

"I know baby", I tell her, "It's just for now"

"Yeah", she answers

"Did you post the picture on your Instagram?"

That's the only social media she has and it's full of pictures of her work

Sometimes she gets hired by people from there too

"Yeah Sannie", she says

"Good baby. Maybe an idol company will see it and want to hire you", I smile

She is really good at nails, she knows how to use all kinds of nail polish and the designs she does are so pretty

She definitely should be working for idols

"I wish", she giggles, coming closer and laying her head on my chest

I hug her tightly, kissing the top of her head

"I love you Sannie", she says, making me smile

"I love you Jo", I answer, "More than anything"

Words can't describe the love I have for her

She is everything to me

"So much", she whispers, looking up at me

Leaning down, I press my lips to her in a soft kiss

After the kiss, we go sit against one of the walls waiting for my fight to start

-------------------------------

Lifting my arm, I block my opponent's hit then shove his arm away

Pulling my own fist back, I slam it into the side of his head, his body following the direction his head snaps

The fight started three minutes ago and already I'm getting my ass kicked

If course I'm up against one of the biggest guys here

I already got punched in the face twice and once in the stomach, not to mention my arms while I block my face and head

This is the first hit I got in

My opponent rights himself and lunges at me, his fist grazing the side of my lip

Pain hits me hard

I already got a cut there from a previous hit and it fucking hurts

I move back from him, ducking under another swing and punching his stomach

As he doubles over, I kick him hard in the ribs

He roars in pain and the bell rings before I can get another hit it

Fuck

Going to my corner of the ring, I sit in the stool, breathing hard

"Sannie", she whispers, tears on her face

"I'm ok baby", I tell her, turning to my side where she's standing

"You're bleeding San"

"Just little cuts naekkeo", I assure her

I don't want to tell her how much pain I'm in

She worries enough

"You need to knock him the fuck out", Wooyoung growls from my other side, as he pours water from a water bottle in my mouth

I swallow quickly so I don't fucking drown from this dumbass

"No shit", I growl

"Well stop fucking around. You're fighting like shit today"

"Do you want to fucking fight him?", I snap, "You think you can do better?"

He snorts, "I'm not an idiot, I'm not getting in there with that huge oaf"

"Gee thanks", I say sarcastically

"Just go knock him out and win", Wooyoung says dismissively, waving his hand at me

Sometimes I want to punch him

The bell is gonna ring any second and I turn to her

"Kiss me baby"

She immediately pressed her lips against mine in a soft kiss

I feel better, like her kiss is renewing my energy

The bell rings and I pull away from her, getting up and going towards my opponent, my hands up in a fighting stance to protect my head

My opponent comes at me swinging and I parry his punches as best I can but he still gets hits into my body

I try to hit him back but my hits just graze off him because he blocks me

I'm getting frustrated and sloppy

We just really need that money

He hits my ribs and I yell in pain, then swing and smash my fist in his eye, his head snapping back

I advance towards him, moving my arm to land a right hook to his body

He blocks my hit, leaving me wide open and his fist connects with my chin, upper cutting me

Agony explodes in my face as I fall on my back

"Sannie!", I hear her scream through the pain, "Oh my god, Sannie!"

I moan, lifting my head but the pain increases and I lay back down

"Get up Sannie! Please baby, get up"

She sounds so scared

Forcing my eyes open, I turn my head to find her in the crowd, making my swimming vision focus on her

She's grabbing onto the metal chains that make up the ring perimeter, Wooyoung's arm around her waist, holding her back as she struggles against him

It takes me a second to register that she's trying to get into the ring to get to me

Thank god Wooyoung is there to hold her back

If she ever got hurt I'd never forgive myself

"No, don't hit him!", she shouts, tears pouring down her face, "San, move!"

I move to gaze at my surroundings, seeing my opponent walking towards me

"No. Wooyoung let go!", she sobs, "I have to get him, he's not moving. Let me fucking go!"

I have to get up now

She cannot come in this ring

She cannot get hurt

My opponent gets to me, pulling his fist back

My body screams in pain as I roll away just as he brings his fist down, punching the floor, a loud crack sounding in my ear, followed by his screaming

I get up, my vision swimming for a second, the crowd cheering loudly

But all I can hear is her crying my name

I need to finish this fight and get to her

"End it now San!", Wooyoung yells

Forcing myself to stay up, I head to my opponent who's holding his arm to his body

I'm pretty sure he broke his hand

As I get to him, he tries to block me but I get a hit to his face in

He swings his uninjured arm hard while still keeping his injured one close to his body, trying to hit me but misses, his body going with the momentum and he stumbles

I move quickly, punching his ribs, then backing away, circle him then hit him in the same spot

He growls, straightening up and coming at me but he's leaving himself open because he still has his injured arm at his side

I take the opportunity to move quickly to him and jumping, I do a turning kick, smashing my foot into his face

I land on my feet as I hear him fall and I turn around immediately

He's laid out, his eyes closed, not moving

Everyone screams and cheers but I keep my eyes on him in case he decides to get up

He doesn't and the organizer of the fights declares me the winner

I breathe in relief, glad we at least have some money that can last a bit

Turning to the crowd, I find her in the same spot, clinging onto the chains, crying

While I got us money, I hate that I have to make her feel this way to get it

Moving, I stumble over to her, her arms immediately around my neck, hugging me tightly to her as she sobs in my neck, the chains between us

I move my arms around her, holding her tightly, "It's ok naekkeo. I'm ok"

"Come out of there now", she sobs, "Please Sannie. We're leaving right now"

"Yeah naekkeo. Ok baby", I agree, "Just let Wooyoung get the money ok?"

She nods then lets me go, holding up the chain so I can squeeze through

Once I'm out of the ring, she's immediately back in my arms, hugging me tightly

Hugging her, I run my fingers in her hair, whispering to her, assuring her I'm ok

I am ok, just a little beat up

I'll be sore tomorrow but it's nothing some Tylenol can't fix

Wooyoung comes over, handing me an envelope

I quickly stuff it in my pocket then tell her, "C'mon baby, let's go"

Taking her hand, the three of us leave the warehouse, heading for the van

--------------------------------

She sits across from me in the van, on our cheap mattress, looking down

"Here naekkeo", I say softly, giving her the envelope with the winning money

She takes it, opening it

"It's 600 for this fight"

She nods, taking out 200 and putting it in the little safe we have in the van

The rest of it she puts in her bag so she can deposit it into her account for us

She raises her eyes to me, tears pooling in time

"Naekkeo-", I whisper but she shakes her head

She reaches next to our bed, taking out the first aid kit, then moves next to me on the seat

She opens the kit, taking out some paper towels and wetting them with bottled water

Her eyes raise to mine again, gently turning my face towards hers

She gently presses the wet paper towel to the corner of my lip, dabbing the blood away, tears falling down her face as she does

My heart falls, hurting because she's hurting

I wish I could do something, anything to make everything better

Better for her

But I don't know what to do

She cleans my mouth, then uses more wet paper towel to clean the cut on my cheek

She slides my tank top off, more tears falling as she looks at my bruised body

She checks everywhere, wiping blood away from scratches and cuts on my arms, neck and chest

Then she puts all the bloody towels in a plastic bag

"No more Sannie", she whispers

"Naekkeo-"

"No more", she repeats, her eyes full of unshed tears, gazing into mine, "Please Sannie. I can't....I can't keep watching you get hurt baby. You've been so lucky nothing serious has happened to you so far. But you don't know what these hits to your face, to your head are doing to your brain baby. I can't lose you"

"You won't naekkeo", I tell her, "I'm ok"

"For now", she whispers, "But what if you get knocked out and don't wake up? What if you break something? We don't have money for a hospital Sannie and I don't know how to fix broken bones"

I shake my head, "Nothing like that is going to happen-"

"You don't know that!", she cries, "You don't know what effect this is having on you because we can't afford to get you checked out!"

I breathe in, trying not to get frustrated, "I'm doing this for us baby. So we can get out of this van"

"I don't care about getting out of this van!", she sobs, "Don't you get it San? I don't care about money, I don't care about living in an apartment. I care about you! All I want is you!"

"It's because of me you have such a shitty life!", I yell, losing it, "It's because of me you're living in a fucking van instead of a house! It's because of me you got kicked out of your apartment! It's because of me you're poor! It's because of me you don't have a fucking shower or a toilet to use, because of me we have to use gas stations and public restrooms. You don't even have basic things like a real fucking bed to sleep in! It's because of me you aren't living with your sister when you should! You're in this shitty situation because you chose me and I'm such a lowlife screw up that I can't even provide a fucking basic life for you. And it won't get any better. We'll always be fucking poor. Any apartment we get will be shitty in a crap neighborhood. Your sister is right, I ruined your life"

I close my eyes, leaning my head back, trying and failing to stop the tears that run down my face

I love her so much but she should not be with me

I'm just dragging her down

Her small hand touches my cheek, turning my face to her

I open my eyes, her beautiful face blurred through the tears

"I love you Sannie", she says, "I will always choose you no matter what"

"You shouldn't naekkeo", I whisper, "You should run far from me. I'm not good for you"

"Yes you are", she argues, "You are baby. You went to prison for me, because you were protecting me baby"

Of course I did

She's my everything and I'll be damned if anything or anyone hurts her

I'll always be there to protect her

"You are the best man for me San", she continues, "You love me more than anyone ever has. You take care of me the best you can. You're willing to get hurt to try to make a better life for us"

"I'm failing naekkeo"

I'm failing at taking care of her so fucking badly

I'm failing at everything a boyfriend should do for his girl

She shakes her head, "No baby. Please listen to me San"

I just nod, not knowing what she can say to make me change my mind that I'm no good for her

"I don't care if we're poor. I don't care if we have to live in this van or a shitty area. I don't care about using public bathrooms or sleeping on a crappy mattress. My life is not shitty because I have you San. I can live without a bathroom or an apartment or a bed. I can't live without you"

I feel more tears leak out at her words that I know are true

She doesn't consider her life crappy because she has me

I don't know how I still have her love or why she loves me as much as she does but I'm so grateful for it

"I love you Sannie, more than words can express baby. You are my everything. I swear I will always choose you, I will always be right here with you, by your side, wherever you are. I will never abandon you baby. Never"

I take her hand, holding it as I break down, sobbing, her free arm hugging me to her

I can't explain how I'm feeling, just a mixture of happiness, relief, gratefulness, sadness, despair all swirling inside me

Just knowing she's here, she's never leaving me no matter what is more than I deserve

"You're worth anything and everything Sannie. As long as we're together, we'll be ok baby. I promise"

I nod, wrapping my arms around her, holding her tightly, my face buried in her neck

Her arms move around me, her fingers gently running in my hair

"Please Sannie. No more fights baby. We'll find another way ok? Please baby", she begs

I nod, whispering in her neck, "Ok naekkeo. No more"

She's never asked me to stop before, just silently taking care of me after the matches but I know she didn't want me to continue the fights

And even though we need the money, I'm going to stop because she's asking me

I can't deny her anything, especially when she's going through all this to be with me

I will never break her trust, never go back on my word

Not when it comes to her

So if she wants me to stop, I will

Lifting my head, I look in her beautiful eyes, softly cupping her cheek, "I promise, no more fights naekkeo"

She nods, relief in her face

"I love you Jo. More than anything"

She smiles softly, "I love you Sannie"

She kisses me softly, her arms moving around my neck, warmth crawling up my body as my head spins

I pull her into my lap, deepening the kiss, her tongue against mine, her fingers in my hair

Moving, I get us on our bed, laying next to her, our bodies turned to each other as we kiss

Her hands gently touch me, her fingers leaving heat in every cell on my skin

She gently pushes me to my back, hovering over me, her lips pressing to my neck

I close my eyes in pleasure as my naekkeo's soft lips kiss me

I move my hands under her shirt, feeling her soft warm skin as I travel up her back, pulling her shirt up at the same time

Taking it off her, I move my hands around her again, undoing her bra, her big boobs immediately in my hands

I squeeze softly, feeling her nipples harden against my palms

She sits on my lap, looking down at me, her fingers gently touching a new bruise from tonight's match

I have lots of bruises on my body, old ones and new

I know she hates it but at least there won't be new ones anymore

She leans down, her lips pressing the softest kiss she's ever given me on the bruise

My breath hitches as she moves her lips to another bruise, this time an old one, kissing there too

She continues to kiss each and every bruise on my body, a wave of utter acceptance and love crashing into me

Tears spring to my eyes and fall as she presses her lips all over my chest, my stomach, my arms, her hands softly trailing in her kisses wake

"My strong Sannie", she whispers, kissing my palm, making me cry more, "My baby"

She presses a kiss to each of my finger tips, then moves to my other hand doing the same thing

"My love of my life", she says, her eyes on mine, "My everything"

I can't stop the tears that are flowing

I'm just in awe that this amazing woman loves me this much

That she considers me her everything when I can't give her much of anything

That she just wants me when she could have a better life without me

That she's willing to give up that better life to be with me

She's completely extraordinary and I thank my lucky stars she's mine

"I love you Sannie", she says, her hands gently wiping the tears from my eyes

"I love you Jo", I cry, "I love you so much naekkeo"

She smiles, her lips against mine again and I fall into her kiss

I slide my hands down her back, pushing her pants and panties down as far as I can

She smiles into the kiss before moving off me and taking the rest of her clothes off

She reaches for my pants, dragging them and my boxers down and off

I watch her lean down, her tongue slowly running up my hard cock, pleasure humming in my body

She licks up my dick again and again, her tongue feeling so fucking good, so wet, so firm against me

Her tongue licks along my slit, making my body shiver

"Mmm yummy Sannie", she murmurs, swirling her tongue around my head, "My baby always tastes so good for me"

I whine as her mouth wraps around my head, soft sucking sensations taking over my body

She slowly moves down my cock, giving me long sucks that has my body trembling against the bed, my fingers gripping onto the sheets

"Baby, fuck", I moan, her mouth feeling utterly amazing, her tongue against my cock as she sucks

She finally moves all the way down, deep throating me, my cock nestled and throbbing in her throat

When she starts bobbing her head, I moan loudly, the feel of sliding out of her throat then going back into that tightness so fucking pleasurable

Her head moves faster, taking me in and out over and over, my head and body filled with bliss

She is so fucking good at blow jobs it's amazing

She watches me, her big brown eyes teary, bringing me closer with each move

I run my fingers in her hair, stopping her

"Need you", I whisper

She nods, pulling me out of her mouth

Getting in my lap, she holds my dick up under her, sitting on my head

Her tight hole spreads open for me as she sinks down on my length, slowly taking an inch at a time

"Naekkeo, fuck", I whimper, watching her cunt take me, completely drenching me, "All the way baby"

She smiles, her hips moving as she wiggles down my cock, "Always Sannie. Always want all of you inside"

I know she does

We can't get enough of each other and living in a van hasn't dimmed down our sex life at all

She bottoms me out, her hips immediately grinding so slowly on me, driving me crazy

"Baby", I whine

"Shh baby", she smirks, "I'm gonna ride you the way I want to but don't worry Sannie. You know I'll always make you feel so good"

I nod, knowing she will

Both of us are all about the other when it comes to sex

She wants to make me feel good and I want to do that for her

It's why sex with her is the best I've ever had

Her small hands move onto my stomach, leaning on me as she slides up my length, leaving my cock a wet creamy mess

"Baby fuck, so wet already", I moan

"Mm can't help it", she whimpers as her cunt tightens around my head, feeling so good, "You're cock is the best baby. So hard. Feels so good"

With that, she slides back down slowly, clenching my cock over and over as she goes down, pleasure blasting into every cell as my length pushes through her tightness

"Oh my god naekkeo", I pant, feeling every inch of her pussy smother my cock as she bottoms me out

She grinds on me, my head rubbing against her spot, her beautiful body shaking on top of me

"Mmm Sannie", she moans softly, starting to bounce so slowly on my length, making sure she squeezes hard as she moves up and down, feeling incredibly good

I watch her, hypnotized by the way her gorgeous body moves on me, by the pleasure on her face

I slide my hands up her body, starting from her thighs, feeling her soft skin tremble against my fingertips, soft sighs of bliss coming from her slightly parted lips

I'm so fucking lucky this amazing woman is mine

My hands move around her bouncing boobs, squeezing gently, rubbing my thumbs across her nipples

Her hands wrap around my wrists, her bounces going just a touch faster but still agonizingly slow

"Sannie", she whimpers, her body arching in pleasure, her cunt throbbing hard and completely creaming my cock, beads of sweat slowly rolling down her perfect body

"Cum for me naekkeo", I whisper, wanting to feel that pleasure her orgasms give me, "Fall apart for me baby"

"Sannie", she moans, taking my entire cock inside her, her orgasm starting

Intense pleasure washes over me from her pretty pussy squeezes my cock in a vice grip, flooding my dick and lap in her cream

I watch the stunning sight of my naekkeo coming and I swear I've never seen anything so fucking beautiful

"Good girl", I praise her, "My good girl. Fuck naekkeo, feels so good"

"So good Sannie", she whimpers

As soon as she finishes, I'm sitting up, crashing my lips to hers, kissing her passionately

Pulling her sweaty body right against mine, I lay down with her and roll us over, getting on top of her

Her legs wrap around my waist and I can't describe how much I love that feeling

Thrusting into her, I bottom out quickly but stay buried inside her, just wanting to feel her pulsing pussy wrapped around me for a minute

Her small hands lay flat on my back, slowly sliding up and down, sending chills down my spine and heat through all my nerves

As I kiss her, I slowly pull out, loving the feeling of her pussy tugging on my dick, wanting to keep me inside

When I move back in, her hips lift, meeting my stroke, letting my cock plunge deeper inside her

She moans in my mouth as my head hits her spot, her legs tightening around me

We move together, meeting each other as I go back in, my pelvis rubbing against her little clit with each move

She breaks the kiss, moaning my name, as I move my arm around her waist, keeping her right against me while we make love to each other

I lean my forehead against hers, her hand sliding in my hair, holding on, our breaths mixing with each other's, pure bliss running through my body

"Sannie", she whispers, opening her eyes and locking them on mine, "I love you Sannie"

I smile, love for her filling my body, "I love you Joanne. More than anything naekkeo"

"So much baby. Forever", she whispers

I nod, "Forever naekkeo"

I know I will never stop loving her

It's just not possible

She's my absolute everything

"San", she whines, both of us right there, her pussy spasming so hard, soaking every inch of me

I slip in, rubbing her spot and she cries my name as she cums

Her cunt chokes my cock, ecstacy tidal waving into every cell in my body and I hold her so tightly, moaning her name as I cum

"Joanne, naekkeo. Fuck baby", I whimper, closing my eyes while the fucking pleasure increasing as her cunt milks my cock for all my cum, her repeated whispers of my name washing over me

"San. My Sannie. Sannie"

We cling onto each other as the pleasure fades, my eyes opening and meeting hers again

I press my lips against hers in a kiss as I pull out of her

I shift to lay next to her, her body turning and entangling with mine as our lips stay locked together, her fingers slowly running up and down my back

When the kiss ends, I lay on my back and she cuddles against me, her head on my chest, her leg moving over my body

I grab the blanket that was pushed to my side of the bed and get it over us, then play with her hair as we lay together

"I love you", she whispers, kissing my chest right where my heart is, making it skip a beat

"I love you", I tell her

A silence falls but my mind is running a mile a minute

"Naekkeo", I whisper, deciding the time is right

"Yeah Sannie?"

"Would you....would you want...to marry me?"

There, I asked

Her breathing still as her head tilts up, her eyes immediately looking into mine

"Are you serious?"

I nod, one hundred percent serious

I've wanted to ask her for awhile but I can't afford a ring and I didn't want to do it without one but the reality is I doubt I'll ever be able to afford one for her

But just because there's no ring doesn't mean we can't get married

"Yeah naekkeo. I love you so much Joanne. I never want to be without you", I tell her, "I don't have a ring and I don't think I'll ever be able to get you one-"

"Shush Sannie", she says, softly touching the side of my face, "I don't need a ring San. I just need you"

"You have me baby. Always", I assure her

"And you have me Sannie. Always too", she says

After tonight and everything she said, I know for sure I have her forever

There's no doubt in my mind that I'm always going to be with her

"And yes Sannie. I want to marry you"

"Yeah?", I ask, smiling

"Of course Sannie. When are you going to realize you're my everything baby and I only want you?"

"I'm starting to get it naekkeo", I tell her, "I'm getting it"

"Good", she smiles happily, "When can we get married?"

I laugh, "Well naekkeo, we do have some money now and I don't think it costs too much to get married in city hall"

"Hmm yeah. I think I'll research everything online tomorrow during my break and I'll let you know what we have to do"

"Sure baby. Then we can figure out when-"

"Hopefully this month", she says, "If that's ok with you"

"Are you kidding? The love of my life wants to marry me asap, of course I'm more than ok with that"

"Yay", she cheers adorably, "I can't wait to be a Choi"

Did she say..

"You....you want to take my last name?", I ask softly

She smiles at me, stroking my cheek softly, "Of course Sannie. I want my last name to be the same as yours. Unless you don't-"

"No I do", I say quickly, "I do want that baby, I just want to make sure it's what you want"

"It is. I want to be Choi, Joanne, the wife of Choi San. I want that more than anything baby"

My heart swells with love, happiness and gratitude that I have the best girl on this planet

She is extraordinary and precious and I will do everything in my power to take care of her, protect her and make a better life for her

I swear

"I want that more than anything too naekkeo", I tell her

"Well it's good that we're going to get what we want baby", she answers

"Yeah, it's good"

She leans closer, kissing me softly, her kiss feeling like heaven

"I love you Sannie"

"I love you Jo"

Cuddling into each other, I hold my naekkeo, happy and hopeful for our future

[jellys-compendium]

A Night to Remember

A Trigun Stampede One Year Anniversary Celebration Drabble

Rating: M

Summary: You, Vash and the gang go out to celebrate your one year anniversary. Unfortunately for you and Vash, the night ends at an unexpected lodging. The jailhouse. Pairing: Vash x gn!Reader Cw: fluff, drinking, tipsy Vash & reader, mentions of violence, some suggestive themes Word Count: ~940 A/n: I know I am taking a break from writing Trigun, but it didn't seem right to not post a little something to honor the one year anniversary for Trigun Stampede. Thank you Studio Orange for reviving this series. Trigun (and Vash) will always hold a special place in my heart. 💖

The closing click of the fortified restraints that are wrapped around your lover’s wrists rings through the jail with finality. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you watch—completely powerless— from the adjacent jail cell. 

“Do you really have to do that Sheriff?” You whine, face pressing against the bars separating you from your lover. 

“Vash didn’t start that fight. He stopped people from getting hurt, you know!”

A drunken little hiccup escapes the sheriff as he wavers on his feet, trying his best to get his key into the lock dangling around Vash’s wrists. A charming drunken smile spreads across Vash’s handsome face as he brings his hands closer to the Sheriff, and helps steady the drunken man.

“Th-hic-there you go pal.”

“Thanks, Vash.” Comes the Sheriff's sloppy and slurred response.

You roll your eyes, heaving a heavy sign through the cold iron bars. 

Unbelievable.

The night had started out so well. You, Vash, Meryl, Roberto, and Wolfwood had all been celebrating the one year anniversary of your meeting at the local saloon of the town. Your group basked in some well deserved merriment, indulging in food, drink, and the warm company of one another.

The original plan had been to drink with the gang, fill your bellies with food and laughter, and then take Vash back to your room for a little private celebration.

What happened instead was sadly not that.

Vash had unfortunately been recognized by a band of bounty hunters who incidentally also had light pockets. Your tipsy lover had done his best to deny who he was and calm and redirect the men, but they were having none of it.

What started as night of laughter and friendly company turned into a drunken brawl. Fists flying, bottles shattering, turned over tables and chairs. And within two minutes flat, the entire bar had burst into an eyesore of unrestrained, buzzed testosterone.

Roberto and Meryl had held their own perfectly, keeping the drunken and grubby hands of the locals off of them. Wolfwood had groaned, rolling his eyes as he had planned to just sit this one out. Unfortunately for the preacher, one enormous, inebriated man came at him with his fists flying and gave the grouchy undertaker little choice.

Vash on the other hand, worked on simultaneously disarming every single person packing in the place, all the while playing keep away with you. You remember him moving you this way and that, dancing around swinging fists and deflecting thrown bottles as he kept your tipsy self out of harm's way.

“It wouldn’t be our one year anniversary without a drunken brawl, right mayfly?”

Geez, wasn’t that the truth?

A soft smile spreads across your lips. Life has never been the same since you met Vash the Stampede. He truly is the humanoid typhoon—a sandsteamer’s load of trouble—and you wouldn’t change him for the world. 

“There ya go buddy.” The sheriff hiccups as he secures the chains around Vash’s wrists and then claps him affectionately on the back.

“I’ll let you and your bug friend go in the morning, alright? Goodnight you two. Sleep tight!”

Vash gives the man a huge drunken grin, and you silently watch as the Sheriff stumbles out of the jail cell, nearly falling flat on his face before he makes it to the door. 

The moment the door clicks shut, Vash exhales a drunken little chuckle and then his blue eyes fall on you—all sweetness and cherry pie.

“He’s grown up to be such a nice man. I met him when he was only up to my knees, ya know.”

You smile, shaking your head at your boyfriend. Vash is such an affectionate and sentimental drunk—wearing his heart on his sleeve even more so when he’s in this state. He’s so friggin’ adorable, you want nothing more than to slip through the bars and head on over and shower him in kisses and cuddles.

Sadly, it looks like you’re going to have to wait until morning to do that.

Unless…

“Vash,” You sweetly call, extending your arms through the bars and coaxing him to you with a wiggle of your fingers.

“Come ‘ere, angel.”

Vash’s smile spreads from ear to ear as he slowly makes his way towards you. You giggle as he stumbles a bit before reaching your warm embrace. You do the best you can to pull him close and hug him through the iron bars of both of your cells.

“M’sorry.” Vash sighs, fingers reaching out to gently brush against your warm cheek. “I know this isn’t the most romantic spot to spend our one year anniversary.” 

Your hands soothingly caress his arms with what little mobility they have, and as you look up and meet Vash’s tender gaze, the love that swells in your heart makes you feel fuller and happier than you’ve ever felt in your life.

“That doesn’t matter, Vash. As long as we’re together—as long as I’m by your side— I’ll be the happiest little bug on this desert planet.”

The humanoid typhoon smiles so brightly, and the rarest, most genuine little laugh falls from his lips.

“Then let’s treasure every last second we have.”

Leaning forward, the two of you try to kiss through the bars. Unfortunately however, those dreaded obstacles separate your bodies too far apart, leaving you and Vash looking utterly ridiculous as you both strain towards one another in vain—all extended puckered lips. 

Eventually, the both of you give up, electing to press kisses to your fingertips and brush them across each other’s lips instead.

And as your shared laughter echoes through the empty jailhouse, you realize that despite your plans going south, this will be a night that you’ll always remember fondly.

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