#Alleviated Records

[iamlisteningto]

Larry Heard's Love's Arrival

[house-a-day]

Larry Heard - Sunset

[borderlinereminders]

The amount of people that take a generic post I’ve written and then send me hate because they don’t think it applies to their specific situation is exhausting.

If I’m expected to write every possible reason my post may not apply to someone on my posts, then you’re not going to be happy following me. That’s exhausting. I’m not doing it. And I think it makes the posts too long and therefore more likely to be overwhelming to people who may then scroll beyond a post they may have otherwise read.

[orcelito]

Guys I've been watching Buzzfeed Unsolved (as you do) and then I saw the thing on Pythian Castle in the recommendations. And I was like "Huh. That's got the same word as the sword I got yesterday."

WELL GUESS WHAT,

It's got the peace lily symbol and everything 😭😭😭😭😭

This is insane. Like I must've watched this episode before, but I have no real memory of it. Yet here I am, finding it again the direct day after I bought a sword from someone in their group hdkshfjd

Crazy coincidence

[dennisboobs]

i think everyone on sunnytwt needs to be sat down so i can explain to them what basic human empathy is. and then maybe i put them in a blender until they agree to write meta about the characters instead of whether or not charlie day got facial reconstruction surgery.

[wildflowercryptid]

to the person who took the time to go through defoko's crunchy voice files and make a vcv bank for them : i am getting down on one knee and kissing your hand oh so tenderly.

[entheo-music]

Larry Heard - And So I Dance

[slasherhaven]

Slashers with a significant other who is a cam girl and wants them to be in one of their videos? 💃

2 posts in 2 days who do I think I am? See ya'll in a year! /j

CW: NSFW

You do Cam Work and Ask the Slashers to be in your Videos:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is pretty conservative when it come to sex and such, but he's come around to your cam work, especially since you let him help with the details.

You like when he picks what you were or what scene you might do. You made Thomas feel like a part of it and that made him comfortable with it.

Still, he's very surprised when you ask if he wants to do a video with you. He refuses immediately and you respect that.

You ask again a while later but with more details. Like nobody would know who he was, you would keep his face out of the shot, and the two of you will do whatever he is comfortable with.

Your first video with him is of you riding him. His head isn't in the shot but the rest of his frame is. The size difference goes hard and your audience agrees.

Thomas is a flustered mess when you sit to read with comments with him. Everyone is talking about the new man in your video, gushing about how big he is and how attentive he is. Even with his size it seems your audience could sense his gentle soul, commenting on the chemistry you both have and how they would love to see him again!

Thanks to all the lovely comments, Thomas agrees to do another video even if he doesn't see himself putting his face on camera any time soon.

Michael Myers

Michael honestly does not care that you do cam work.

When you first ask him to be in a video, he pretty much ignores it.

But when you ask again some time later he doesn't see why not.

As long as his face isn't in the video or anything, you can film it, he doesn't really care.

The videos you make with him afterwards are pretty similar to your first video with him.

Usually you bent over while Michael fucks you to tears.

Michael is barely in the shot most of the time. Sometimes it just a close up on you, other times it includes Michael but only ever getting at high as his chest.

Everyone is obsessed with your mystery man. Where did he come from? What was that scar from? Can we see more of him please!!!

Jason Voorhees

We all know that Jason's comfort levels with sex is extremely low and it takes a while for him to become comfortable with physical intimacy. So cam work is certainly going to take some time for him to come around to.

And once he's become more comfortable with that, it's going to take a whole lot longer before he feels comfortable being in a video.

When he does decide to give it a go, he is a real hit!

He refuses to show his face on camera and you do whatever it takes to make sure he is as comfortable as possible.

Before Jason says you can use his name in videos and descriptions, your audience referred to him as 'the gentle giant', which is completely accurate!

No matter your usual content, Jason is nothing but gentle with you when he's in a video.

Brahms Heelshire

Watches your videos over and over again, he loves them. He'll watch you record them and watch them later once you've posted them. He can't get enough.

He's already got his pants off when you ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. You end up fucking even though you're not filming it.

He actually doesn't have much of a problem with having his face on camera. He's still a little insecure about his facial burns but you have alleviated most of that by this point.

And after the first video and he reads all those positive comments. Some are as horny for him as they are for you.

Fully embraces his new pornstar identity. He's insufferable.

He'll be in any video you want and your audience love watching you take care of your needy brat.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is in fully support of your work, it brings some money in and he gets to watch your videos. Even if his possessiveness still often gets the better of him. Whenever he reads comments of people praising you, Bo has an insatiable need to bend you over something just to prove a point.

Gets all cocky and arrogant when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

Needless to say, he agrees to do it.

And he takes to it pretty easily. He knows how to get all of his favourite reactions from you, how to get you pleading and begging for him, and he wants everyone watching to know.

Bo is arrogant and always smirking when the camera is on but it performs well.

He likes to how the camera and film himself entering you. He really does have a terrible ego.

Vincent Sinclair

It gets Vincent flustered, he could admit that, but he appreciates the artistic side of it all. It takes more effort and consideration than one might think!

He likes helping you get ready for a video and taking care of you afterwards.

He's hesitant when you first ask if he wants to be in a video. A part of him wants to do it with you but he's not confident enough in himself.

But he loves making you feel good and at this point he knows he's good at it, so he gives it a try. You can film them without posting them after all, like practise runs.

He may never show his face but he doesn't mind having his body on camera. Sometimes he even just hides his face with his hair instead of keeping his head out of the shot completely.

On Vincent's more self-conscious days, he'll film close ups of him fingering you instead.

He's very good with his hands and your audience agrees. They are very jealous of you.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is pretty neutral on your work, but of course he absolutely loves your videos.

He's mostly just surprised and flustered when you first ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. He thinks you're perfect so he understands why people would want to watch you, but he doesn't really see why people would want to watch him.

But he still agrees to it because he's your biggest supporter!!!

Your audience love the chemistry and intimacy between you both, leaving comments about how real your videos feel.

The videos that perform best are usually the ones where the two of you forgot you were even filming, just giggling together and enjoying each other. Lester gets all nervous and shy when the camera turns on, which is adorable, but forgetting that the camera is there really does help him perform better, the sweetheart.

Your audience love your more thought out and planned videos but appreciate the occasional more relaxed video with your sweet boyfriend.

Bubba Sawyer

Super flustered by your work but he's supportive.

Is super surprised and nervous when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

He agrees to give it a try once you explain that you can always delete it and nobody has to see it if he changes his mind or doesn't like it.

Bubba is just a big sweetie really, and you know just how to turn him into a squirming, blubbering mess.

And your audience love to watch you do it!

In later video's you do, you use the viewers' comments to fluster him even further. Using all the kindest and sweetest comments that say how lovely he is .

Come on, Bubs, they love you, they're being so nice. Why don't you say thank you?

Billy Lenz

Billy loves watching your videos and when you ask if he wants to be in a video with you, he is so excited!

He's completely down to make some home videos but he's a little unsure about putting it online for other people to see.

So you make it so his face isn't visible and let him watch the final edit before uploading it. He thinks it's so hot, he can't say no.

Honestly, you could do really well with just audios alone though. People will go wild for it. Billy unable to keep his mouth shut, all those desperate moans and whines and noises, the sticky wet slapping of skin. Honestly, a video element is just a bonus at this point.

And who gets off to the video the most? Billy obviously!

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Asa monitors your accounts anyway, even if you don't know it. He wants to know what you're posting and how people are responding. Don't want any bullies or trolls, right?

He's probably tried to manipulate you into suggesting it anyway.

He doesn't have much of a problem with your cam work, he's just a possessive bastard and would love to claim you in front of your entire audience.

The mask stays on!

Okay, he designs a new mask to avoid any chance of self criminalisation but whatever.

You two can make it big in BDSM communities.

Ties you up, blindfolds you, gags you. Whatever he feels like, but often seems to focus the camera on your reactions rather than on what he is doing to you. Studying his favourite little specimen.

Your audience already adored you of course, but they also love this new Dom you brought it.

There is no doubt as to who you belong to now.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Obviously Jesse has no problem with being on camera and he already has a pretty big ego, so he'll probably even wear the Chromeskull mask. It's his signature whether it's for his snuff films or your cam work.

Like Asa, you do absolute numbers in the BDSM community. Everyone is very pleased with his fully suited up, masked Dom that you brought in.

He already has his Chromeskull persona all fleshed out so he just brings that energy to your videos.

He's a sadistic Dom and you might have to upload an Aftercare video at some point just to reassure your more loyal audience that you're alright and always well taken care of afterwards.

Otis Driftwood

Is obviously a fan of your videos and isn't going to stop you from making them. You aren't actually fucking anyone else, so he's cool with it. And if he feels particularly jealous or possessive at some point, he knows he's the only one who can actually pin you down and have his way with you.

Oh yeah, he's down to make a few videos with you. He's probably got some old tapes of his own somewhere, long forgotten. He's not shy.

Says the filthiest shit, it kinda becomes his think on your platform.

Otis can be absolutely disgusting but, fortunately, there is an audience for that and they flood to your videos.

Calls you all sorts of names, asks you if you get off on knowing everyone is going to watch him fuck you. That everyone is going to see all the things you let him do to you.

Baby Firefly

Baby loves that you do cam work, she loves performing. She happily does your hair and makeup, she helps you pick out costumes and which toys you'll use in that video.

Hell, she's even filmed a video or two for you!

She's your number one supporter so of course she jumps on camera as soon as you ask if she wants to be in a video.

The two of you are all dolled up and she's magnetic, the audience love her as much as they love you.

The two of you are absolute menaces if you decide to do a livestream, pulling in huge donations because Baby is going to pout and taunt. Why should the two of you put on a show if they're not showing their appreciation properly?

Baby is the type to respond to very low donations with "it's alright, you can just say you're poor". She never promised to play nice and she just thinks you're worth more than that!!!

You end up apologising for her.

People are into it though.

Yautja (Predator)

Your mate doesn't quite get it but he's cool with it.

Is hard as soon as you ask if he wants to be in a video. Yautja's aren't very conservative or prudish when it comes to sex and nudity, so you weren't too surprised.

He loves the thought of taking you, of claiming you, and everyone knowing that you're his mate. That he's a worthy mate for you.

Even when he's a regular feature in your videos, he doesn't completely understand it, he just knows he's into it.

Everyone loves to watch you try to take him fully, the struggle, the determination, the satisfaction when you manage it.

You have cornered the Monster Fucker market. They don't know if it's real, if it's a very elaborate costume, or very realistic animation, either way they are eating it up.

All the other performers who use alien dildos and such are super jealous, obviously.

[edsbug]

sweet thing

pairing: eddie munson x inexperienced!fem!reader

summary: you don’t have much sexual experience. eddie shows you what you’ve been missing out on. (wc: 1.6k)

contains: 18+ NSFW, mdni!, pure filth, eddie being a sweetheart, lots of praise, a hint of dom!eddie, fingering (female receiving), cowgirl, piv.

authors note: this was requested by the lovely @wdsara48 <3 i hope you enjoy my love.

It was a sweltering summer afternoon, the kind where the heat clung to your skin and made everything feel languid and slow. The fan in Eddies room did little to alleviate the oppressive heat, but that didn't seem to matter as you sat perched on his lap in his bed, your legs on either side of his hips.

You and Eddie had recently started dating, every moment feeling new and exhilarating. Despite the stifling heat, the thrill of being so close to him made the temperature bearable. His hands rested gently on your waist, the touch of his fingertips making your heart race.

Eddie's room, usually filled with the sound of his favorite records, was quiet except for the rhythmic hum of the fan. The air was thick with the scent of summer and the faint trace of his cologne. As you leaned in closer, your faces mere inches apart, you could see the way his dark eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and tenderness.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and husky, a small smile playing on his lips.

You nodded, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from his face. “Yeah, I am,” you replied softly, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

Without another word, Eddie closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, a soft exploration, but quickly grew more intense. His hands moved up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as the kiss deepened.

The heat of the afternoon seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in the moment, the world outside forgotten. Eddie's lips were warm and insistent, his breath mingling with yours as your tongues danced together.

His hands roamed your back, fingers tracing the curves of your body through the thin fabric of your tank top. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest, or maybe it was yours; you couldn't tell. The kiss broke for a moment, and Eddie's dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something soft, more tender.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. You felt a shiver run down your spine despite the heat.

As his hands found the hem of your top, lifting it slowly, you hesitated for a moment. Eddie noticed, immediately pausing to look at you with concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, “what's wrong?”.

You bit your lip, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

“I... I haven't done this much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's expression softened even more, a small smile tugging at his lips. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “That's okay,” he said. “We'll take it slow. I'll guide you. I promise.”

His reassurance sent a wave of relief through you, and you nodded. Eddie leaned in to kiss you again, slower this time, savoring each moment. His hands resumed their exploration, but with more deliberate care, taking the time to make sure you were comfortable with every touch.

Your top was the first to go, discarded somewhere on the floor. Eddie's lips trailed down your neck, placing soft kisses along your collarbone. He was patient, taking his time to ensure you were enjoying every second. His hands slid up your sides, stopping just under your breasts. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission before moving further. When you nodded, he smiled and continued, gently cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples, causing you to let out a soft moan.

“You're doing so good baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, feeling a growing confidence. You reached for the hem of his band shirt, tugging it upwards. Eddie obliged, pulling it off in one smooth motion. You couldn't help but admire his lean, toned body, your hands exploring the contours of his chest, your fingertips cascading over his tattoos. He groaned softly at your touch, a sound that sent a thrill through you.

When his hands moved to unbutton your shorts, you felt a flutter of nerves again. Eddie noticed, pausing to kiss you softly.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his breath warm against your lips.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

“Atta girl. Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you said, feeling reassured by his confidence. Eddie's hands were deft, and soon your shorts and underwear joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He lifted you slightly, adjusting his position so you were straddling him more comfortably. The sensation of his hardness pressing against you through his jeans was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but grind against him slightly, earning a low groan from him.

Eddie grabbed your hips firmly, lifting you so you hovered over his lap. His fingers found your entrance, teasing you with light, feathery touches that made your hips buck involuntarily. He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Slowly, he slid one finger inside you, watching your face intently for any signs of discomfort. You gasped at the sensation, a mixture of pleasure and a slight unfamiliar stretch. Eddie's thumb moved to your clit, rubbing gentle, circular motions that sent sparks of pleasure through you.

"Look at you baby," he murmured, adding another finger and increasing the pressure on your clit. "So wet for me."

The dual sensations were almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible. His fingers worked you expertly, curling inside you to hit that perfect spot while his thumb continued its rhythmic movements on your clit. Eddie felt your wetness drip down his fingers. Your legs started shaking, causing you to hold on to Eddies shoulders. With his free hand, he took hold of yours, intertwining your fingers.

“That's it,” he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. “You're so beautiful like this.”

You could feel the tension building, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Eddie, so close–“, you said, barely able to get your words out.

Eddie's eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of lust and admiration. “Let go for me baby,” he urged softly. “I've got you.”

With a cry of pleasure, you came, the orgasm washing over you in intense waves. Eddie's fingers slowed, helping you ride out the pleasure until you were left breathless and trembling.

“Good girl,” he praised, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips, tasting you. “God, you taste so sweet.”

His words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, and you reached for him, pulling him closer. You kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with authority.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the residual tremors of your orgasm.

Eddie's hands found the waistband of his jeans, and he guided you to help him remove them. The anticipation built with every passing second, and soon he was fully exposed to you, his arousal evident. He reached for a condom in the drawer beside his bed, taking a moment to put it on.

Eddie guided you slowly, positioning you above him. “Take it slow,” he instructed. “Go at your own pace.”

You did as he said, lowering yourself slowly onto him. The initial stretch was intense, and you paused, allowing yourself to adjust to the sensation. Eddie's hands were on your hips, steady and reassuring.

“Such a good girl, doing so well for me,” he praised, his voice a husky whisper. “Just relax. I've got you.”

You took another deep breath, relaxing. As you began to move, the pleasure started to build, the initial discomfort fading away. Eddie's hands guided your movements, helping you find a rhythm that felt good for both of you. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumbs stroking soothing patterns on your skin.

“That's it,” he murmured. “You're so perfect.”

The words of praise spurred you on, and you moved with more confidence, finding a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through you. Eddie met your movements with gentle thrusts, his eyes never leaving yours.

Eddie's hands roamed your body, caressing your breasts, sliding down your back, and gripping your hips. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply as you rode him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Eddie murmured against your lips, his voice filled with admiration.

You moaned in response, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. Eddie could sense you were close, and his hands guided your movements with more urgency, his own breaths coming faster. He placed his thumb over your clit, rubbing in quick circles.

“Cum for me sweet thing,” he said breathlessly.

His words were the final push you needed. You came again, the sensation washing over you in waves, the room filling with the sound of your moans. Eddie followed soon after, his grip on your hips tightening as he came.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless and sweaty. Eddie's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

As the world slowly returned to focus, you nestled into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin.

Eddie's hands moved to gently stroke your back, tracing light patterns on your skin. “You okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“More than okay,” you replied, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie planted a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Anytime, sweet thing. Anytime.”

[hmusunoo]

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒! - hyung line

▏synopsis. enhypen hyung line as different types of angst tropes

▏warnings. angst, most of these are really sad.

▏wc. 2k

✩ heeseung - memory loss

You woke up in a blur. The lights to this very lit up room were blinding, coupled with the white walls and thin sheets you laid upon. Your mind was in a haze, your eyes taking long to adjust to its surroundings as your head pounded so hard you could feel the ache behind your eyes. Groggily you brought your hand up, pawing at your eyes to alleviate the bleariness from them.

Your confusion was laden on your face as you took in your surrounds. You were definitely in a hospital that was for certain. If it weren’t for the stark white of the room and the crisp smell of cleaning supplies you weren’t sure if your mind would have even registered it. It seemed that normal day to day things were splotchy to recall, names of objects and colors were hard to come by.

Your body had ached. Feeling as if you were hit by an a thousand pound truck at record speed and in the confusion to find your bearings you hadn’t noticed the hunched figure that sat directly next to your hospital bed, fast asleep. Chest rising and falling at a rhythm.

more under the cut!

A boy sat next to your bed, holding tightly to your hand as if it were his lifeline. You wiggled your hand out of the boys grip. The movement had caused the boy to stir, opening his eyes to peer at you. The boys eyes widened as he looked you.

"Y/n!" He said, hoping up from his place on the bed. "You're awake." His smile had brought a small sense of warmth to your chest, one you couldn't explain and were extremely confused by.

You tilt your head in confusion at the boy but said nothing, struggling to find the right words to say, to break his happy spirit when you tell this boy that you had no idea who he was. None at all.

Finally deciding to break the ice you asked "Who are you?" The bright smile that once adorn this beautiful boys fell, a look of confusion now replaced the happy expression. "What?" He asked his tone broken sounding.

"It's Heeseung? Your'e boyfriend.." You tried your hardest to force the memories of him back but it just wasn't working. You had no idea who he was and somehow deep down inside of you seeing him sad and heartbroken hurt you.

Your mind might not have any idea to who he was but your heart definitely had.

✩ Jake - bet

You were running. You weren't entirely sure where you were going but all you did know was that you had to get out of here.

You were trying to catch your breath but the bubbling of a sob was to hard to swallow, catching in your throat. The sound of footsteps behind you reminding you to keep your pace and not allow Jake to catch up to you. You feared that your resolve might break if you were face to face with him after what was just revealed to you.

"Y/n!" Jake shouted after you panting. His voice breathy from running. You started slowing down getting tired. The single lapse win pace was Jake's biggest advantage in catching up to you. "Listen to me please, baby"

Jake sounded desperate his voice breaking slightly at the end of his sentence. "Please" he pleaded again. You stood still your back to him hugging your arms around yourself, the only form of protection you could provide yourself.

"You lied to me" You whispered not able to conjure up anger only sadness. "I was a bet, a fucking bet" The tears from your eyes like a waterfall. You didn't turn to him, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You wanted to appear stronger than that even though you knew you weren't.

"I can explain, ok." Jake said sucking in a breath "I'm sorry I hurt you-"

"You broke me!" You whipped around to look at him finally. The anger finally simmering in you, reaching its boiling point and exploding all over the two of you.

"I gave everything to you! Just to find out I was a fucking bet. The punch line of your sick fucking joke. I don't want any part of it anymore. Leave me alone." You spit the words at him trying to hurt him like he had hurt you. You think you succeeded when you watched his face drop. A look of despair over taking him. He was one hell of an actor you'd give him that.

"Just- let me explain before you berate me-"

"You deserve it" You said cutting him off again "You deserve to hurt like I hurt Jake."

"You were a bet." He said, you scoffed shaking your head at him "I know that already."

"But I fell in love with you, that was real. And I know that doesn't change how this happened but I mean it ok? I love you. " The tears felt like they were forming again.

Your heart breaking even more, you knew within yourself that you would not be able to forgive him. if now or if ever you weren't sure, you just knew that it hurt walking away from him.

✩ jay - saying hurtful things in anger during an argument

"You're not listening to me!" You shouted in frustration grabbing your head in annoyance. "You never have time for me anymore Jay. I miss you"

"I hear you loud and clear Y/n, and im telling you I can't help that I have a job and responsibilities." Jay sat on the couch head in his hands as you stood over him trying to get him to just hear you out god damnit.

"That's not what I mean and you know it Jay." You said defeated. "I just want you to make time for me. I miss my boyfriend, I miss who we used to be."

"I can't always be the same person y/n" Jay snapped, standing from his place on the couch. "Some of us are trying to do things in their life, some of us want to be successful and not be stuck at home listening to their nagging girlfriend all day." The words struck you.

You said nothing in surprise at his sudden outburst. The silence more than likely clearing Jay's mind. The realization of what he said hanging in the air over the two of you.

"So I'm just some loser girlfriend who waits at home all day for her more successful boyfriend to make a living for her. got it." You said curtly nodding at Jay.

"Y/n I didn't me-"

"You didn't mean it? Then why did you say it Jay. Stop kidding yourself that's the most real thing you've said to me in awhile." Your words stung him. The severity of the situation dawning on him.

"I didn't mean to say it like that Y/n." Jay said, reaching out to grab your waist. You turned away from him softly muttering "I need a break."

"You need a break?" He asked, his tone rushed. "Are you breaking up with me? Over something like this?"

His question had made you angry. Did he think what he said was nothing? That it weighed no significance. "I don't know" You responded honestly. "what I do know is that I need to be away from you. I'll be at Y/f/n's house don't call me." With that being said you walked out the door grabbing only the essentials not knowing if you'd ever be back.

✩ sunghoon - reader catches him talking badly about her

You were excited to finally see Sunghoon after he had been busy with comeback schedules and preparing for tour. He had been spending a lot of time in the dorms and not coming to see you as often as he used to. It was exhausting being away from him.

You often called him only to be sent to voicemail or to get a quick 'love u talk to you later' text. Something that rarely ever happened, you didn't end up talking later.

You would sometimes go days without talking to Sunghoon, you missed him dearly. So tonight you decided to surprise him. You were going to wait for him at the dorm. He would be home soon and finally you'd be able to spend some time together even if its for the night. You sat in Sunghoon's room scrolling on instagram waiting for the text from Jungwon that they were home. Finally your phone dinged with the notification that they were home.

You knew that it had been a long day for them so you decided to send a quick text to Sunghoon before he came up wanting him to be even more excited to see you when you surprised him.

You texted him ; have a goodnight babe! love you and miss you!!

it was simple and sweet and you just hoped that he loved in. Gathering the snacks you had gotten for the two of you, you felt giddy and jumpy at the thought of seeing Sunghoon after so long. Finally the door to dorms opened and you heard bustling of the boys coming in.

"I'm exhausted" You heard Jake groan out and then the sound of a thud that was most likely his bag. "Sunghoon why don't you go see Y/n tonight since we have the day off tomorrow." You heard Heeseung say. Sunghoon let out a groan. "She just texted me and honestly I'm not even going to answer I don't feel like dealing with her tonight."

Your ears perked up at that. A dreadful feeling sat at the pit of your stomach. "Hyung..." Jungwon spoke softly "maybe she just misses you?'

"She's over baring with it. She's like my mom with how much she texts and calls me. You think she would get the hint when I don't answer for days, I deal with millions of fangirls a day I don't need to deal with one when I get home too." Taken aback by his words you step back, hugging the wall.

You hadn't realized you were crying until you felt the wetness on your cheeks.

Sunghoon must have started to make his way towards the room because all you could hear was Jungwon's protest. It was too late though, the door swung open and you were met face to face with Sunghoon.

As soon as his eyes set on your his face turned as white as sheet. Realizing that you must have heard his harsh words based on the tears falling from your eyes.

"baby.." Sunghoon spoke shock written all over his painstakingly beautiful face.

"Is that how you really feel?" You asked him, the hears still falling from your eyes. "Like I'm some crazy fangirl"

Jungwon, Jake and Heeseung stood awkwardly behind Sunghoon watching the scene unfold before their eyes.

"Since i'm such a bother to you, I'll do you a favor by leaving and never coming back." You were stern. Turning to grab the things you had brought with you save for the snacks. He could have those.

"No, Y/n I didn't mean it like that I'm just stressed with work." He tried to reason with you. Trying to stop you from walking out go the dorm.

"I was only trying to help you Sunghoon. Not suffocate you." You were still crying. Humiliated as his members watched you break down.

"I know that baby- "

"don't call me that" You cut him off "I'm not your baby anymore."

"Y/n no" He said shaking his head. "Let's talk about this first." You shook your head a sigh falling from your lips.

"There's nothing to talk about I heard what you said, I got the message." With all your belongings in your hands you walked out the door leaving an embarrassed and heart broken sunghoon behind.

taglist - @shypen , @belovedhoon , @st1llm0nster , @blossommi , @jooniesbears-blog , @kkamismom12

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[fictionally-driven]

Bruises and Blossoms

Pairing: Jiyan x f! Midnight Rangers reader Word count: 3165 words Trigger warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of death. Plot: Jiyan is gravely injured and saved by the resilient and resourceful field medic, (Y/N), whose unwavering dedication and quick thinking catch his eye amidst the chaos of war.

Author Note: I have been writing fics about WuWa characters developing feelings for someone. I could not help but indulge in this after playing WuWa from the past few days. If you liked it, then reblogs are appreciated, Thank you!

The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of smoke. Tacet Discords, their dark forms swirling like a malevolent storm, descended upon them. Jiyan led his troops into the fray against the looming threat to Jinzhou and Huanglong. His blade cut through the fog on the enemy with lethal precision.

But the Tacet Discords were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless as they swarmed over the battlefield. It felt like an other outbreak was on the verge of breaking through and Jiyan was resolved to quell it before it got to that point. Jiyan fought with all his strength, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he pushed himself beyond his limits to protect his troops from the brunt of the attacks.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos, a joint attack from the Crownless and the Tempest Memphis caught Jiyan off guard. Despite his best efforts, he found himself overwhelmed, his vision blurring as pain seared through his body. Blood filled Jiyan's mouth as he struggled to maintain his footing, his ears ringing with the clamor of battle. But even in the midst of his pain, he refused to yield, his determination unwavering as he faced his enemies head-on. Slaying the crownless, Jiyan collapsed to his knees, trying to catch his breath and recover. Black spots emerged in his vision and he shook his head, trying to remain focused. Amidst the chaos, a familiar voice cut through the din, pulling him back from the brink of darkness.

An on-field medic approached at Jiyan's side "General! focus on me," she urged, her voice firm yet comforting as she assessed his injuries. Her hands moving with practiced precision as she tended to his injuries with the supplies she was carrying. "Let me patch you up."

But Jiyan, his resolve as strong as ever, swatted her hand away. He insisted that he was fine, his voice strained with pain. "There are others who need your help more than I do," he protested, his gaze flickering with concern for his troops. “I’ll be alright.”

Yet the medic, undeterred by Jiyan's protests, remained steadfast in her resolve. "You need medical attention, General," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Let me do my job."

"I'm not leaving you like this," She retorted, her tone firm as she continued to patch up Jiyan's injuries. "No man left behind, remember?"

As she outlined Jiyan's injuries in her terminal, recording and transmitting the message to the infirmary, she detailed the extent of his wounds. "He's broken his arm, sustained a deep femoral artery laceration, and has multiple contusions and abrasions," she reported, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "We'll need a transfusion and surgical intervention."

With practiced efficiency, she stabilized Jiyan's broken arm, carefully wrapping it in a makeshift splint to prevent further injury after removing his signature midnight green gardebras. Administering pain medication, she sought to alleviate his discomfort, her hands moving with gentle precision as she worked.

As she wrapped a tourniquet around his open wound to stem the bleeding, she barked commands to the surrounding troops, directing them to cover their path back to the infirmary. "We need a clear path, now!" She pointed to two soldiers. “You two. Cover for me and the general till we make it to the infirmary. Take defense positions at the back.” She then points to another soldier beside them. “You take the front. What? Do I look like I have sprouted two horns? Move. Now!”  With Jiyan's uninjured arm draped around her, she lifted the general up, staggering a bit due to his weight before stabilizing herself.

Despite his delirium from the pain and blood loss, Jiyan couldn't help but notice the warmth of her presence, her lively nature. "You're like a whirlwind, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with admiration as she dragged him towards the relative safety of the infirmary.

Despite the chaos and confusion of the battlefield, Jiyan finds himself drawn to the medic at his side. Was she glowing? He couldn't help but wonder as he struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. How could someone be so beautiful, almost amidst the carnage of war? Though the scent of blood and smoke filled his senses, he could still smell was the antiseptic and medicines that she had used on him, comforting him. As she dragged him towards the infirmary, Jiyan weakly protested against her, insisting that he would be fine. She seemingly ignored his words, only to focus on the task at hand. And in that moment, as he clung to her for support, Jiyan knew that he was in good hands.

Inside the infirmary, the harsh lights made everything seem too bright and painful. Jiyan was gently lowered onto the bed, his muscles screaming in protest with each movement. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the medic busied herself. Jiyan’s eyes fixed on her, noting the blood, his blood, smeared on her skin and on her clavicle. He noticed the small injuries that marred her too. Her hair, disheveled from the chaos, fell out of place from its tie, framing her face. With his uninjured hand, he reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “You are injured too. Make sure to get it patched.”

She glanced at him, a mix of frustration and tenderness in her eyes. "You need to rest, General," she admonished, her voice soft yet firm. "Let us handle the battlefield for now. Your troops need you to recover."

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his vision blurring again. "You... you're quite something," he murmured, his voice trailing off. “What is your name, soldier?”

She stood up, her expression softening as she looked down at him. "And you're quite stubborn," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Take care and recover soon. Your troops have got this, and you need to focus on resting." She wiped his blood off her using a few wet wipes as more medics gathered to tend to the general. “My name is (Y/N).” She said, as the medics began working on treating him.

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "Thank you, (Y/N)." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You're welcome," she replied, still smiling. “Let the medics tend to you. I’ll be off now.”

As she turned to leave, her figure was haloed by the harsh light, making her seem almost ethereal. Jiyan watched her go, the scent of antiseptic and the warmth of her presence lingering even as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Days had passed since the chaotic battle, and Jiyan, who transferred to the hospital in Jinzhou city was gradually recovering. His body, still wrapped in bandages and dressings, bore the marks of the intense skirmish. His broken arm was securely cast, the deep laceration on his hip stitched and bandaged, and the myriad of contusions and abrasions were cleaned and dressed. The medics had done their job well, but amidst their care, Jiyan's mind lingered on one thought: the medic who had saved him.

(Y/N), she had said her name was. She hadn't served directly under him before, always stationed at a distant outpost. The recent upheavals had brought many changes to their forces, including her reassignment to the Northern border of Huanglong. He'd learned through her records that she was exemplary, her combat skills and medical background making her a perfect fit for an on-field medic. Jiyan knew he needed to thank her, not just for her skillful treatment, but for her unwavering determination to save his life.

Her image was etched into his mind: her firm yet gentle hands tending to his wounds, her unwavering resolve, and that fleeting moment when he had tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Despite the pain and blood loss, he remembered the warmth of her presence

The Tacet Discord outbreak from that fateful day had been contained, though at a grave cost. Several lives had been lost, each one a heavy burden on Jiyan's heart. As he regained his strength, he prepared himself for a somber duty he never neglected: honoring the fallen. With a pouch of Emortia seeds in his hand, Jiyan made his way to Knell Square, the hallowed ground where he planted these seeds to commemorate the soldiers who had perished in battle.

Stepping out into the streets of Jinzhou, Jiyan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The city was alive with activity, but he sought solace in the quieter parts. His path took him away from the bustling marketplace, past the familiar landmarks of the city, and towards Knell Square.

As Jiyan approached the square, the familiar sight of Emortia flowers greeted him, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. He paused for a moment, taking in the serenity of the scene, his heart heavy with the names and faces of the comrades he had lost. But then, his gaze caught sight of a solitary figure standing by the flower bed, lost in thought.

(Y/N) stood there, her posture relaxed yet somehow somber. She seemed absorbed in the sight of the flowers; her eyes distant as if she were communing with the spirits of those who had passed. The soft light of the late afternoon cast a gentle glow on her, highlighting the subtle strength and grace that had left such an impression on him.

Jiyan's heart skipped a beat as he watched her. He hadn't expected to run into her here, and the sight of her brought back a flood of memories from the battlefield. He wondered what she was thinking about, what memories or emotions had drawn her to this quiet place. He took a moment to observe her, the way her eyes seemed to soften as she looked at the flowers, the way her hands gently brushed against the petals. He cleared his throat, stepping beside her. "I didn’t expect to run into you in Jinzhou."

(Y/N) turned to him, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "General Jiyan," she greeted, her voice soft. “I see that you are recovering quickly.” She turned back to the flowers. “I was here to collect some personal supplies and stopped by to admire these flowers. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jiyan nodded, stepping closer to stand beside her. "They do. Each one represents a life, a sacrifice. It's a way for me to remember and honor them. I plant these seeds for the rangers who lost their lives." he said quietly.

She looked back at the flowers; her expression thoughtful. "These flowers... they carry so many memories…”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of their shared losses hanging in the air. Jiyan took a deep breath, summoning the words he had been wanting to say. "Thank you," he began, his voice earnest. "For saving me that day. I owe you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) waved a hand dismissively, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "I was just doing my duty, General. But next time, let me do my job without fighting back.” There was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You of all people should know that without a general, the army would have fallen into disarray."

Jiyan felt a pang of sheepishness at her words, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "You're right," he admitted. "I was stubborn. But so were you. Your quick thinking and actions saved me. Your efforts will be formally acknowledged."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "No need for formalities, General. Knowing that you're alive and well is enough for me. I don't want praise," (Y/N) said, her voice firm yet soft. "I didn't do it for the recognition. I did it because it's my duty, and I want to be more efficient in that duty. I could have saved more lives that day if I was better."

Jiyan nodded slowly. "I do. It's a heavy burden, knowing lives depend on your actions. But that's also what makes it so important."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flashing in them. "That's right. You were a medic before you became a general. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Jiyan smiled faintly. "It's not something I talk about often, but it's a part of who I am."

She gave him an incredulous look, almost looking offended. “You, of all people, should know better than to resist treatment on the battlefield! Next time, I'll tie you up if I have to."

A chuckle escaped Jiyan before he could stop it, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise. "Something the matter?" he asked, bemused.

She shook her head, a look of astonishment on her face. "I don't think I've ever heard you chuckle before," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "It suits you more than your usual frown and scowl."

Jiyan was momentarily stunned by her words. He wasn't used to such candid observations about his demeanor. "I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

(Y/N) returned his smile, her gaze focused on the sky for a moment, "I'll leave you to your moment with the flowers, General," she said, stepping back to give him space.

As she began to walk away, Jiyan found himself not wanting her to leave just yet. "Wait," he called after her, his voice catching slightly. "Would you... would you help me plant these seeds?"

(Y/N) turned back, her smile widening as she walked back to him. "Of course, General. I'd be honored."

They knelt together by the flower bed, the pouch of Emortia seeds in Jiyan's hand. He handed a few seeds to (Y/N), their fingers brushing lightly. Together, they dug small holes in the soil, carefully placing the seeds within.

"Each seed represents a life," Jiyan said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. "A sacrifice that must never be forgotten."

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes reflecting the same solemn respect. "And each flower that blooms is a reminder of their bravery and our duty to honor them."

They worked in silence for a while, the act of planting the seeds almost meditative. The gentle rustling of the flowers and the distant sounds of the city created a peaceful backdrop to their task.

As they finished planting the last of the seeds, Jiyan looked at (Y/N), admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For everything."

(Y/N) smiled, her lively spirit shining through once more. "You're welcome, General. And thank you for your service. We all rely on your strength and leadership."

With the seeds planted, they stood together, taking a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of Knell Square. The Emortia flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate petals a symbol of hope and remembrance.

"I should be going," (Y/N) said softly. "But if you ever need someone to tie you down for treatment again, you know where to find me, General."

Jiyan chuckled, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. “And please, call me Jiyan.”

“Jiyan…” She repeated, nodding at him. “Alright then, I’ll do just that.”

As (Y/N) repeated his name, a warm feeling spread through his chest. He didn't want her to leave just yet. There was something about her presence that he found comforting, something that made him want to know more about her.

He recalled Mortefi's words, a dear friend who often chided him for being too stoic and reserved. "You need to put yourself out there, Jiyan. Go on dates, meet new people, relax a little. Stop being a tragic brooding hero all the damn time and go live your life."

Jiyan had never thought he desired companionship. After all, the Jué had entrusted him with a duty, a responsibility that he had always taken seriously. But this woman, (Y/N), had come out of nowhere, stirring feelings within him that he had never felt before. It made him yearn for more and all he wanted was to be the subject of her attention at the moment.

Summoning his courage, Jiyan hesitated for a moment before calling out to her, his voice slightly awkward. "Um, (Y/N), wait!"

She turned back, a curious expression on her face as she regarded him. Jiyan stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. At this very moment, he felt as if he would rather fight a horde of the Crownless than speak his mind.  "I, uh, I was wondering if... if it would be alright for us to, um, go out for a nice dinner? And maybe catch a lion dance performance after?"

(Y/N) turned back, a slight smile playing on her lips as she observed Jiyan's flustered state. "Are you asking me out on a date, General?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jiyan hesitated, first blurting out. “N-no…that’s...” He immediately corrected himself. "I... uh... yes, I suppose I am," he admitted, his voice slightly uncertain. "If... if that's not out of line, I mean. I'm sorry, I should probably let you be..."

(Y/N) giggled, the sound light and musical, easing some of Jiyan's anxiety. "It's endearing to see the General so flustered," she said, her tone gentle and kind. “I’d like to see more of this side of yours, Jiyan.” She met his gaze, still amused. “So yes, I'd like to go on this date if you're still up for it."

Relief flooded through Jiyan, mingled with a newfound sense of excitement. He hadn't expected her to say yes, but now that she had, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. “Yes. It... Its settled then.”

(Y/N) nodded, her smile warm and inviting. "Alright then, Jiyan. When and where?"

Jiyan thought for a moment, his mind racing. "There's a lovely restaurant near the theatre. How about we meet there at seven tonight or is that too soon...?"

"Seven sounds perfect," she agreed. "I'll see you then."

As they exchanged contact information on their terminals, Jiyan's heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He watched as (Y/N) took off, her graceful form moving with purpose, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. With a final wave and a cheerful reminder to take care, she disappeared into the bustling city streets, leaving Jiyan standing there with a smile playing on his lips.

His gaze lingered on the spot where she had vanished, the memory of her infectious laughter and warm smile etched into his mind. For a moment, he placed his uninjured hand on top of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. Yes, even he, General Jiyan, renowned for his stoicism and unwavering dedication to duty, found himself looking forward to tonight and the possibility of many more nights spent in (Y/N)'s company.

WuWa Masterlist

[taesanrot]

[heavy] sunghoon x f!reader | 2.1k words exes to lovers, second chance, angst syn. ever since you broke up with your long term boyfriend, park sunghoon, he's been heavy on your mind. foolishly, you try to move on, but seeing him at a party reminds you why you can't let him go. note. i've been wanting to start a series based on songs i've been listening to recently! this is the second and hopefully not last fic in this collection lol. also this was kinda supposed to be a implied college au but im now realizing the setting is kinda vague so imagine it as you like :)

now playing: heavy by the marías

"cause i don't wanna be in love with another, even in another life."

sipping your drink, you wished so dearly to drown out the memories that played in your head like a broken record.

you were fine. everything was fine. you told yourself what you told everyone.

you were done with park sunghoon. it was for the better.

but even the loud drunken screams from your friends and the even louder music at this party couldn't make the words in your head stop playing over and over. you closed your eyes and tilted your face to the ceiling.

...

"let's go our separate ways." your emotionless voice contrasted with your tear streaked cheeks.

"y/n, what? what do you mean?" sunghoon's voice shook with confusion.

"i mean, let's break up."

"break up? baby i'm not breaking up with you over this." he stepped forward to grab your hand but you just crossed them in front of your chest.

"i'm tired of fighting! we're clearly not right for each other." your voice almost broke at the end, making sunghoon want to cry.

"couples fight all the time, you know we've both been really stressed lately, let's talk about this another time. when we're both feeling better." he tried and tried to reason with you, but your mind was set, and both of you knew that.

...

you felt stupid, then and now. it had been one month since you'd last seen your ex boyfriend, and you were a wreck. foolishly, you'd blamed everything going wrong on him, thinking that getting rid of your relationship would alleviate your stress. but sunghoon left a gaping hole in you, and suddenly it was like you were frozen.

the pain was unbearable, bu you were stubborn. you kept your head up, moving through night and day. you were a shell of yourself, but you were still standing.

you began to go out, your friends dragging you out of your apartment in an effort to cheer you up.

you tried and tried to move on. but talking to other guys made you feel sick. they didn't have his fluffy hair, his cute and pointy smile, or his pretty voice.

tonight was the same, you nursed a drink in your arms as you tried to forget everything.

"what are you thinking about, pretty?" you opened your eyes, nearly dropping your drink in shock as you turned towards the voice. you were face to face with a taller boy. he had dark hair and even darker eyes.

"nothing." you weren't going to get into your ex with a random guy at a party.

"i'm jisung, by the way." you smiled slightly as he introduced himself, trying to be polite. he seemed sweet enough, but you wished you were doing anything but talking to a flirty guy right now.

"i'm y/n." you replied, struggling to maintain your sanity and composure with the alcohol flowing in your veins. you kept up conversation for a bit longer, making an excuse that your friend was sick so you could finally make your escape.

finding your best friend, yunah, you tapped her shoulder to get her attention away from the music.

"y/n? what's up?" she grabbed your hand as she spoke, swinging it back and forth drunkenly. you smiled, gesturing to the back door.

"gonna go sit outside, need some air." she nodded and waved as you walked away.

what neither of you saw was sunghoon. he'd arrived not more than 15 minutes ago, with his friends jake and heeseung.

"dude, is that who i think it is?" jake blurted the moment they walked through the door. the 3 boys watched you talk to some taller guy with dark blue hair. sunghoon wished he didn't care, but truthfully he couldn't look away.

you were beautiful, wrapped in a black dress. you always looked angelic to him, always making his stomach burst with butterflies.

looking at you right now, his stomach was burning with a different emotion. he was green with envy watching another guy flirt with you when you should've been with him. the only thing that quelled his dread was the look on your face. he could see from miles away how uncomfortable you were, arms crossed tensely and face painted with a fake smile, one that didn't reach your eyes.

sunghoon wanted to be a respectful ex-boyfriend. he didn't contact you. he gave you your space after your breakup, even though he knew how stupid your fight was. he loved you, enough to respect what you wanted.

but watching you duck away from the blue haired boy and walk out the back door, sunghoon couldn't stop himself. he downed the rest of his drink, wincing at the burning feeling his throat before pushing through the crowd to get to the back door.

the night air soothed the growing dread within you a bit, but you were still left with a nauseating feeling. the same one you always felt when you talked to guys that weren't him.

slumping against the fence, you held your head in your hands, combing your fingers through your hair roughly. dizzily, you crouched on the ground, wishing you could just disappear. or even better, teleport to your bed.

“y/n?” your reaction was delayed as you slowly searched for the source of the voice.

in all his glory, park sunghoon stood before you, looking down at your crouched figure with concern.

“god, sunghoon. what are you doing here?” you groaned, sincerely wishing you were just hallucinating all of this. wishing that the first time you were seeing your ex boyfriend since the breakup wasn’t when you were a drunken mess.

god, today was seriously the worst.

crouching next to you, he reached out a hand to move some of your hair from your face. he leaned in front of you so he could see your face, while you stubbornly trained your eyes at the ground.

you were scared that if you even made eye contact with him for too long, everything would fall apart.

“are you okay? how much did you drink?” he spoke softly, his voice melting in your ears and warming your chest.

you wanted to cry, throat tightening at the feeling of him doting on you. you didn’t say anything, just nodding.

sunghoon could tell you didn’t want to be there just as much as he didn’t. normally, on a night like this, the two of you would be watching a movie together or baking or just laying in his bed and scrolling through one of your phones.

“do you wanna leave?” he asked, hand falling onto your shoulder and rubbing small circles. you nodded again, pushing your hands on the ground to stand up. you didn’t let sunghoon help you as he stood up, stumbling slightly as you stood up fully.

as the two of your walked out the back entrance, you looked at the boy in confusion as he began walking in the same direction as you.

“i’m not leaving you alone out here, let me make sure you get home.” you looked back at the ground, mumbling back a small okay and thank you, trying to ignore the words threatening to spill from your lips.

the walk to your apartment was filled with a thick silence, the only audible noises being the hum of the streetlights. A rough gust of wind caused your skin to fill with goosebumps, the cold breeze hugging your frame.

sunghoon noticed, almost quicker than you did. wordlessly, he dropped his leather jacket over your shoulders. you knew you should protest, but to be truthful, you missed him more now than ever.

when you didn't say anything or move at all, sunghoon stepped in front of you, gently unwrapping your arms and putting them into the sleeves of his jacket for you.

you stared at the cracked sidewalk, heavy tears threatening to fall from your eyes. his jacket was warm, and so big that you were practically swimming in it. his hands were warm too. and so was his voice, as he softly asked you if you were feeling less chilly.

you still refused to utter a word, not out of stubbornness but out of fear that your voice would betray you. after everything you did, after how bad you hurt him, sunghoon was still here, walking you home and taking care of you like he always did. like nothing had changed.

"y/n." sunghoon spoke a little louder, tilting your chin up so you looked him in the eye. "i said are you cold?"

the end of his question died in the back of his throat as your teary eyes came into view. he dropped his hand, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

"hey, hey, what happened?" his voice instantly softened. you couldn't do anything but shake your head, the tears finally trailing down your cheeks. sunghoon's thumb made contact with your cold cheek, wiping away the tears as the fell.

"y/n, please, tell me what's wrong." he almost sounded defeated, voice laced with concern that made you want the earth to swallow you whole. your chest ached.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, hoon." his head tilted in confusion at your apologies. he opened his mouth to respond.

"why are you apologizing?" you sniffled, tears still wetting your pink cheeks.

"im so stupid. i pushed you away because i just hated fighting and i thought that was the only way to make things better. but i can't-" you voice broke slightly and you took a second to breathe in. your eyes were screwed shut, refusing to look at sunghoon.

"i can't see myself with anyone else. i don't want to see myself with anyone else. any guy i talk to i just compare to you and it makes me feel sick. i know i can't but i've been trying so hard to move on because i'm scared that you hate me for hurting you and being so dumb." when you slowly opened your eyes, sunghoon pulled you into his chest.

your cheek was pressed against his white shirt, tears wetting the fabric as he held you tightly. he shoved his face into your hair, breathing in and relishing the feeling of you in his arms again.

"sunghoon?" you asked, voice muffled by his chest.

"i could never hate you." he mumbled into your hair. he pulled away and you saw him smiling, eyes crinkling as he tucked a strand of your hair away and wiped the last of your tears. your nose and cheeks were red both from the cold and from crying; sunghoon thought you looked adorable.

"for the past month haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. about us. how i should’ve fought harder to make you stay.” he laughed dryly as he spoke. “the only reason i even went to that party was because i might get to see you again.”

more than anything, it warmed sunghoon’s heart to see how much you still cared for him. all this time he was scared he was the only one still hung up on your relationship.

“i love you so much, i don’t care if we fight or if we go through a few rough patches. i only want you.” his voice softened slightly and he looked at you like you were the only two people in the world.

“you’re not mad at me?” you mumbled, hand crinkling the fabric of his tshirt as you clutched his side. shaking his head, he grinned.

“why would i be? you came back to me.” you smiled for what felt like the first time that night, hand instinctively covering your face. sunghoon pulled your hand down, wanting to see your shy smile. he loved when you were like this, shy and bashful. it made his heart nearly explode in his chest.

“can i kiss you?” he asked, intertwining your hands. you nodded gently, closing your eyes as sunghoon leant closer to you.

his lips were warm and soft, just like you remembered. your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, molding to each other perfectly. sunghoon’s arms slipped under his jacket that you were still wearing, hands wrapping around your bare waist.

you were flush against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your skin and his teeth sink into your bottom lip. as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, you swore to yourself that you’d never let park sunghoon go again.

[lackadaisycats]

Was it hard to start posting about Lackadaisy and did you ever find it really challenging to find an audience? I want to post about my own project but I’m intimidated to say the least.

It's always been a conflict, somewhere between desperately wanting to share it in my buzzing excitement, and also desperately wanting to hide under the sofa with all of my cringey ideas. Having spoken to other artists about their feelings about their own projects, it seems that's not an uncommon sentiment. It's just a matter of which side will eventually win out. (I don't regret releasing my cringey ideas into the wild, for the record.) --------------------- Finding an audience is a whole other challenge, especially now as everything is so compartmentalized, platform to platform. But, honestly, maybe it helps alleviate some debut anxiety if not that many people will immediately have their eyes on your work.

Generally, I think it's probably best to just work with whichever social media spaces you're most comfortable in. Don't worry too much about being everywhere all at once - it's maddening. You can branch out gradually if need be. You might also consider setting up your own basic website to act as a hub, because you never know which social media company will suddenly pull the rug out from under you. Be patient. Don't dump a bunch of energy into trying to go viral or something. Slow and steady growth is generally more meaningful and sustainable anyway. Keep putting your work out there, even if it feels sometimes like no one is looking. If you're having a ton of fun making it regardless of who's watching, chances are pretty good some people are going to start having fun reading it/looking at it too.

[withleeknow]

note: i am back again with my boring smut, courtesy of the Lip Ring Devastation that occurred yesterday (do not look at me).

smut right under the cut. minors dni.

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

minho, who looks like a god, absolutely delectable with a lip ring clasped around his full bottom lip. you don't know whose idea it was to have him adorn that sinful piece of jewelry, but you'd like to thank your lucky stars that they put it on him.

minho, who's running purely on adrenaline and always reaches for you in times like these to help him release his excessive energy, and you're always eager to help (especially when he looks like sex on legs).

minho, who grabs your waist the second he enters your shared hotel room and kisses you breathlessly with the lip ring still on. in his haste, he doesn't seem to remember that it's still there, but you'd gasp at the unfamiliar sensation, a little weird at first but you'd quickly find yourself with your thighs pressed together desperately, holding him closer by the nape of his neck so you could suck on his bottom lip, tracing the dainty jewelry with your tongue.

minho, who's got your clothes - and his - off in record time and crawls between your open legs until his face is level with your core, licking his lip in anticipation only to be reminded that the ring is still cuffed on his mouth. when he goes to remove it, you'd stop him with a hand on his shoulder, clenching around nothing when the metal catches the dim light emanating from the lamp on the bedside table. "keep it on," you'd say, and he'd be a little surprised at first, but then a cocky look would find its way onto his face. he certainly has no qualms about it as long as you want it.

minho, who eats you like a man starved, licking into you just the way you like, teasing your slippery clit with the tip of his tongue while his fingers scissor in and out of you. you'd pull on his hair and grind against his face, but it's not until he languidly kisses your bundle of nerves that you keen out a particular noise that he seldom hears. the coolness of the jewelry on his lip feels heavenly in contrast with his hot mouth, makes the pleasure skyrocket throughout your entire body.

minho, who does it again just to test your reaction, and is delighted when the same sound involuntarily drawls from your lips. it turns him on so much that it's almost painful, that it makes him rut into the sheets to alleviate some of the throbbing pressure.

minho, whose smirk you can feel against you where he makes a show of pressing his lips to your cunt, sliding the ring through your folds and to your clit repeatedly, dead set on making you come as hard as he can.

minho, who wears the proudest look on his face after you've squirted all over him, and kisses you deeply afterward so you could suck on his bottom lip and taste yourself on the lip ring where it's coated in your essence.

minho, who pounds you into the mattress without mercy for hours that night, and every time he kisses you, you would clench around his length impossibly hard as you outline the ring with your tongue; who makes a mental note to take the jewelry with him before the two of you go back home.

[suashii]

୨♡୧ HOMECOMING — gojo satoru x reader. sfw. domestic fluff.

gojo’s side of the bed is empty when you wake up—just like it had been last night.

a yawn keeps you from frowning but your eyebrows knit together in either mild annoyance or worry, maybe a mix of both. you had stayed up the previous night expecting to at least hear the door open because satoru had promised he would be home and you always put your faith in his word. though, as your eyelids began to droop with drowsiness, you knew you wouldn’t be awake to welcome him back.

you expected to wake with him beside you, fluffy white hair hiding his cerulean gaze. his absence, while bothersome, makes a sense of unease sprout in your chest. satoru isn’t one to stray from his plans—not when it comes to you. if he still isn’t home even after the sun has risen, its rays threatening to peek through your curtains, then something held him up. as much as you try to ignore the details of his work, you’re well aware of the dangers gojo faces when he’s away.

any lingering frustration you feel withers away at the thought that something bad must have happened. you aren’t sure how much you can do having just woken up but you toss the comforter to the side and jump out of bed, sliding into your slippers. you reach for your phone in hopes of getting in contact with someone; gojo, shoko, anyone who might be in the know. you’re scrolling for his contact when you hear a commotion from the kitchen—a swear and the sound of a pan falling.

the noise would have alarmed you if you didn’t recognize the voice—it’s satoru. breathing out a sigh of alleviation, the tension melts from your shoulders as you toss your phone on the bed and make your way down the hall. when you reach the kitchen, you’re met with the sight of him, one hand on his hip and the other pushing snowy hair away from his forehead. if you had to guess, the cause of his distress is likely the half-cooked pancake splattered on the stovetop. it’s impossible for you to muffle the laugh that bubbles up from your throat.

the sound catches gojo’s attention and his head whips in your direction. much to your relief, he’s made it back to you safe and unscathed. it’s almost enough for you to disregard the mess he’s made upon his return. almost. you grin, jerking your head towards the batter spotting the stove. “making breakfast?”

sensing your jovial mood, gojo mirrors your smile as he approaches you, setting his hands on your waist. “something like that.”

he dips his head down to press a feather-light kiss to your hairline before tipping your chin up to give you a deeper one on your lips. he tastes of coffee sweetened by sugar and creamer, the syrupy flavor remaining even after he pulls away. his right hand comes up to caress the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you lean into the warm, comforting touch.

“sorry i didn’t make it home last night. the higher-ups held me longer than i expected.” you can feel the authenticity of his former statement and the irritation of his latter. your head is nodding in understanding before you know it. gojo continues, “breakfast in bed was supposed to accompany my apology but…”

“you’re a terrible cook?” you finish his sentence, glancing at the mess he managed to make before meeting his eye once more.

“hey.” he pouts, poking his lip out in a show of petulance. his theatrics make you breathe out a short laugh. “one mistake is not a reflection of my cooking skills.”

that much would be true if it were anyone other than gojo. you’re aware of his track record in the kitchen and it’s composed of many incidents similar to this one. though, you think you’ll cut him some slack this time around because his intentions were so pure.

you wrap your arms around his midsection and give him a squeeze, hugging him like you wish you could have last night. satoru cradles the back of your head, smoothing a hand over your hair in soothing strokes. you rest your chin on his chest, right over his heart, and look up at him through your eyelashes. “bad cooking aside,” he frowns at that but stays quiet, which makes you smile, “i appreciate the gesture. so, thank you.”

everything about your expression from the soft smile gracing your lips to the sparkle in your still-sleepy eyes tells gojo that you really are grateful for his botched attempt at an apology. though, as far as he’s concerned, you deserve more than an inedible, half-cooked pancake and a spoken “sorry.” he’s more than equipt to give you that. placing another quick kiss on your forehead, satoru pats your butt with his next words. “get dressed.”

“sorry?” your eyebrows raise in question and partial surprise at the unexpected love tap.

“i might not be very good at making breakfast but i can certainly buy it.” he swallows his pride for your sake, suggesting a new idea that’s still related to his initial plan. “go put on something nice and i’ll take you to that cafe you like.”

you grin at gojo’s proposal and his determination to make up for not keeping his promise. while you would have settled for his simple apology and mere presence, you’re finding it difficult to turn the offer down. “okay. but you have to clean this,” you gesture to the mess behind him, “up, please.”

he nods. “for you, anything.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎