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onyourmarkks · 3 months

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hi! this was just a quick sunghoon thought idk if you'll be able to write anything with it but i thought i'd share anyway!

but imagine perv!hoon's gf noticed how busy he's been lately so she decides to come into his dorm and clean his room as a surprise. at the same time, hoon is on his way home from a really bad day at work in a not so good mood. while tidying up she finds her missing underwear under his bed. she's wearing headphones and isn't really paying attention to her surroundings so she doesn't notice that hoon has arrived home and is ready to use her as a stress reliever

omg i love this, ofc 🙂‍↕️

not proof read btw. i smashed this as i almost fell asleep in my couch.

You hadn’t seen sunghoon in a while, a while being two days ago. He made it clear to you he was busy on schedules and you respected that but you considered his living conditions as you know he could be messy when he is so busy. So as the good girlfriend you are, you decided to clean his room for him.

You arrived at his dorm and knocked and you didn’t expect an answer so you went to enter the pin on the pin pad and the door swung open, “oh! y/n? sunghoon isn’t home” you were faced with a dressed up jungwon he had a bag on his shoulder seeming to be ready to go out, “hi, oh yeah i know, i just came to clean for him since his room is probably messy” you said rocking on your heels before adding “is it okay if i come in..? or is it not a good time?” you ask him as he shakes his hands in a waving movement “yes yes come in. you’ll be fine on your own right? i’m heading out no one else is home” he said swapping places with you.

you nodded and said your byes to jungwon as he left walking down the hallway.

it was finally time to clean his room and when you walked in it was just as expected. you started to move out his used cups and plates into the kitchen and swept up his floor, his bed had a lot of stuff crowding it so you bent down to clear it out

your hand reaches under his bed pulling out socks, a random ball, more socks and something that feels…Lacey? your hand retracts holding the material “what the…” you say peering down at the baby pink lace panties you lost one night after seeing sunghoon.

unbeknownst to you, someone had came home. sunghoon dropped his keys on the table sighing and kicking his shoes off, today was particularly stressful to him just the frustration of not being able to get things right at work. he made his way to his bedroom as he heard movement he immediately became on guard, he peered into his room and saw you on your knees next to his bed, looking at something he noticed that you didn’t feel his presence so he decided to surprise you, he tiptoed in and leaned over you and spoke “snooping, are we?” he said placing a hand on your cheek from above.

hearing sunghoons voice over you made you jump. you didn’t expect him home as yet “n-not snooping” you mumble standing up and turning to him, he looked visibly tired and annoyed? but not at you. “you stole these?” you say holding the piece of clothing up to him and all he did was chuckle and flash his canine teeth, “i did, gorgeous. but it’s not nice to snoop in peoples room is it?” he asks stepping closer to you as you take a step back but he grabs your hip stopping you from stepping back, you don’t respond to his question but you stare at him, not sure what to say “what? cat got your tongue?” he says smiling as he brushes your bottom lip with his thumb.

“i wasn’t snooping, i was cleaning up for you see?” you say pointing to his now clean room, he looks around and notices your cleaning “hm, what a good girlfriend you are huh? good girlfriends deserve a reward don’t they?” he mumbled as he leaned in to kiss you.

the reward thing was made up, he really just wanted to fuck you because he was so upset about work, but you were so naive you didn’t even bat an eye, you were convinced he was doing this because he was thankful.

sunghoon laid you on the bed as he hovered over you one hand unbuttoning his shirt as the other groped your breasts through your tiny top. “shit take this off” he said pushing your shirt up kind of harshly, but you abided and pulled it over your head leaving your lacy bra on display he admired it, using both hands to knead them he unpinned the bra and slid it off, flinging it somewhere in the room he leaned down and gave your right nipple attention with his mouth, flicking his tongue against the bud, nipping at it making you yelp “ow sunghoon” you say gripping his hair he can only mumble a ‘sorry princess’ against your chest.

sunghoon impatiently pulled your pants down along with his, “turn around for me pretty girl” he said, lightly pushing you so you knew where to turn, you nodded and turned onto your stomach, sunghoon wrapped his muscular arm around your midriff and pulled you up, so you were on your knees spread for him, “look at this pussy..” he said as he tapped your wet cunt with his hand, making you instinctively pushing your legs closed but he shoved them right apart.

“such a wet cunt… pretty pussy on a very pretty girl” he said chuckling as he spit on your cunt, making you grow even wetter, his hot spit slid down your cunt brushing your clit and dripped onto the bed in a string almost, “please hoon..” you say arching your back more aching for any form of pleasure, “such a cock hungry slut aren’t you? since you want it so bad why don’t you beg for it?” he says pulling you up by your hair.

yes, it was degrading to beg, but god his cock was so good you didn’t think twice before speaking, “please.. want your cock so bad… want to milk your cock” you say feeling his erection flush on your back, twitching with every word that exited your mouth,

“gotta work harder than that princess” you whined at his words, sunghoon understood your strain he too, felt frustrated and only wanted to cum, but seeing you beg and work for it was his favorite thing, how could he pass up on it? “hoon please, wanna feel you stretch my cunt out, want you to cum on my pussy and make a mess” you say whining, pushing back to give his erection friction.

sunghoon was sold, “you know your way around words don’t you?” he said letting go of your hair and you land on the bed he pushes your arch down so more of your cunt is exposed, he gathers up some of your wetness onto the head of his cock and prods your begging hole.

his tip giving you a good enough stretch “oh my god” you say in a moan, clenching and unclenching on him as he entered, making him hiss from the squeeze “pussy sucking me in so good” he says as he pushes in the final length, and he starts to thrust, his thrusts build up to a fast and hard pace not exactly giving you time to recover but you weren’t complaining

sunghoon easily flipped you onto your back “had to see this pretty face” he said as he inserted his cock back in “s-shit” you said biting your thumb as he thrusted into you, your tits moving at the same pace of his thrusts sunghoon could have came at the sight below him.

sunghoon snaked his hands and pinned yours above your head he leaned down to kiss you, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth saliva spilling down both of your chins as you try to match his pace but getting shocked every time his head hits a certain part in your cunt, “hoon… gonna cum, gonna cum” you say chanting as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming tighter “gonna cum pretty? hold it for me?” he said peering down at you, faking sympathy, he just wanted to make you hold your cum “no.. can’t hold it” you say writhing against his hands that held yours firm above your head “hold it” he said sternly he let go of your hands, your hands immediately wrapped around his neck and pulled him as close as possible bucking your hips up into his oncoming thrusts clenching around him “please hoon… i need to cum please..” you say begging into his ear making him even harder if possible.

“fuck, cum” he says as he kisses your neck and you waste no time, you cum around his cock and clench like crazy bringing him to his own edge, he swiftly pulls out and shoots his hot cum onto your soaked cunt, he jolts at very spurt, collapsing onto you “was i too rough? i’m sorry” he says kissing your chest, you were breathing heavily but you shook your head “no i liked it” you mumbled as he smiled against your skin.

he sat up and looked at your puffy cunt, painted in his cum, “can i take a pic? it looks so good” you nodded shyly as he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket that laid on the floor, he snapped pictures and filmed a video of him running his fingers through your wetness, mixing it with his cum and shoving it in, making you whine, “all done, let’s get you cleaned up” he says patting your thigh as he leaves to get a wet cloth.

once he returns he wipes his cum off of you, “hey did you steal my panties? i don’t remember leaving them here?” you say sitting up looking at him, he shakes his head no, “no i didn’t! why would you put those allegations on your boyfriend?” he scoffs as he swiftly shoves your blue panties you just took off under his bed with his foot “panty stealer!” you say shoving his arm as he laughs.

#kpop imagines #enhypen requests #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon imagines

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sapphichotmess · 3 months

Text

All I Do Is Dream of You

Ellie Williams x plus size!f!reader (not really specified, but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song All I Do Is Dream of You

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

continuation of this

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), fluff, reader wears makeup, reader is able-bodied, reader is right-handed

PLS COMMENT & RB FOR ME PLS

thanks for reading this for me babe @les4elliewilliams u deserve to be fucked so good <3

It has been several days since you were literally knocked off of your feet by one Ellie Williams. And every day since then has been better than the last. You two have been texting non-stop, giddily giggling into your phones with warm cheeks at all hours of the day.

All it took was one meeting, and you were utterly captivated by the adorably dog-like auburn-haired woman, her presence—even if only by phone—filling your heart with a warmth you couldn't explain.

You can’t get the woman out of your head, always seeing her pale green eyes piercing into you when you close yours. And don’t get you started on her adorable smile, her lips quirking up and parting, showcasing a slight bit of white teeth. You groan, staring into the mirror on your desk, right hand holding eyeliner up though doing nothing to put any on. All you can think of is the way her cheeks flushed adorably, highlighting the smattering of freckles on her face. You want to trace them—learn the pattern to a T. Learn everything about her, really.

Your daydreaming is disrupted by the buzzing of your phone which is sat face-down on your bedspread, music blaring from it’s tiny-but-mighty speakers. You drop the eyeliner you were using to make the wing on your eye, drawing a black line down your cheek in your haste. Socked feet making gentle thudding on the hardwood floor, you reach your bed in record time. With your heart racing, you swiftly pick up your phone and flip it over to see the notification. It's another message from Ellie; the sight of her name sends a wave of excitement through you, your heart dropping from your chest out of your ass and a warm flush tickling your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you open the message, eager to see what she has to say.

Ellie's message pops up on your screen, and you can't help but grin as you read her words:

heyyy you! just wanted to say hi and see how your day is going. i've been thinking about you bunches today. craving one of those bomb cupcakes you whip up... you know, those red ones with the fucking insane frosting? the one i had the other day?

Not bothering to wait more than a few seconds, you quickly type out a response, unable to hide your own excitement:

hi ellie! literally made my day hearing from you fr ❤️

you send one text, instantly starting on another:

oh, the red velvet ones? i won’t be making those in the shop for a bit… BUT i can totally open the bakery on an off day and make a batch for you?

Happy with your words, you go to sit down your phone again, butterflies swooping around aggressively in your stomach, but before you do, it’s vibrating in your hand.

It was Ellie reacting to your first message with a heart. She must have been waiting for your reply—or you were being a horrible loser and texting back too fast. Shaking your head at that thought, you watch as the texting bubble appears, heart racing as you wait for her reply.

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of Ellie's response. Was she as eager to continue the conversation as you were? Or perhaps she had something else in mind? With bated breath, you wait for her message to come through, the seconds feeling like an eternity as your mind races with all the possibilities of what she might say. The anticipation only adds to the butterflies swirling in your stomach, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Finally, Ellie's response comes through, and you eagerly read her message:

DUDE, no way! opening the bakery just for us? that's fucking awesome! i'm so down to hang out with you, especially if it means i get to devour those bomb-ass cupcakes. hit me up whenever you're free!

A grin spreads across your face as you read her words, your heart soaring with happiness. It seems Ellie is just as excited about the idea as you are, and the thought of spending time together fills you with warmth. It would be the first time you guys would meet face-to-face since your first encounter.

Fuck you couldn't wait to bask in the magnificence of her; her being in your space, filling her lungs with the very same air you breathe.

You are in trouble if these thoughts are an indication of anything.

Quickly typing out your reply, you suggest a few possible dates and times for your cupcake date, hoping that one of them will work for both of you. Positively beaming, eyes glimmering with youthful mirth, you finally set down your phone and turn on your sock-clad heels to head back toward your vanity. You make it halfway before you remember what day it is.

The bakery is closed.

You could see Ellie today.

Then, you’re slipping against the hardwood, trying to get back to the bed as quick as possible. You finally get your footing after sliding around and almost ending up on your ass, practically flying toward your bed and divebombing onto the soft mattress. Your phone bounces with the impact as you scramble to get to your knees and grab it from mid-air. Somehow, you end up on your back with your phone smashed onto your nose.

Ouch. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

You grab your phone, scrubbing a hand at your sore nose. After the shock of the hit has left, you regain your urgentness, unlocking your phone, bringing up the messages app, and clicking on your and Ellie’s chat.

Your fingers move at what seems like the speed of light as you type out a new message:

so, um, funny thing... i was thinking, and why wait for your cupcakes when you could have them today? how about you swing by the bakery this afternoon?

Thinking for a second, you quickly send a second text:

we can even bake them together! how does that sound?

Nausea creeps up on you as you wait, heart racing and dry eyes staring at your messages to Ellie for several minutes without a text bubble.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a bubble appears on the screen, only to disappear just as quickly. This pattern repeats a few times, leaving you on edge.

But then, finally, Ellie's response lights up your screen:

i'm so down for a baking session at the bakery. what time should i be there?

A wave of relief washes over you as you read Ellie's enthusiastic reply—though you are confused as to why it took her so long to come up with this response. With a wide grin, you quickly type back the details, feeling excitement building in the pit of your stomach.

Finally having that done, you put your phone back on the bed—hopefully for the last time for a while. Then, you finally sit back down at your vanity, ready to finish your makeup for the day. When you look in the mirror, your smile falters and your mouth hangs open in disbelief.

There is a long, thick black line running across your cheek.

“Fuck.”

***

You’re just setting up everything you need for red velvet cupcakes when you hear the front doorbell ring. Your head snaps up so fast you’re surprised you don’t break your neck. However, any pain is worth seeing Ellie walk into your bakery looking so damn fine.

The olive-skinned girl is wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit her ass nicely, a grey t-shirt, and a burnt-red flannel that looks well-loved with tearing seams and fading colors. Her shoulder-length auburn hair is pulled into a half-up, half-down look, with some stray hairs framing her face. Your hands itch to push them behind her ears, even standing at the distance you are.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you set the pan you had in your hands onto the counter with a clatter, causing Ellie to start. Making your way towards the front of the store where Ellie stands with hands in her pockets, you call out her name.

"Ellie!" You greet her with a wide grin, unable to contain your excitement at seeing her—even if it was planned just short of an hour ago.

“Ah, uh… Hey!” the freckled girl stutters out. “I… it’s good to see you?”

“Was that a question?” you ask, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Uh, no?” Ellie says before realizing that she phrased her response as a question, too. “I mean, no. No, it wasn’t a question. I, um, I am excited to see you.”

You can't help but find Ellie's nervousness adorable as she stumbles over her words. Suppressing a giggle, you offer her a reassuring smile, eyes crinkling on the edges. "Well, I'm excited to see you too," you reply warmly, noting the faint blush creeping up on her cheeks.

As Ellie's gaze drifts somewhere behind you and she nervously swipes her hand over her nose, you realize just how nervous she must be feeling. Wanting to ease her discomfort, you gently reach out and place a hand on her arm—holy shit, you didn’t realize she was strong, but you can feel her muscles under her flannel. "Hey, it's okay. No need to be nervous," you say softly, trying to ignore your thoughts about what she could do with that strength. "We're just here to have fun and bake some delicious cupcakes together."

Ellie’s green eyes finally meet yours again, though a crease forms between her eyebrows as she does. “I just, ah… you’re, like, stupidly pretty. And, you know, it’s really distracting.” Ellie's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she confesses, her final words coming out in a rush.

Your heart skips a beat at Ellie's unexpected compliment, and a warm flush of pleasure spreads through you. "Wow, thank you," you reply. "You're not so bad yourself, you know."

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise at your compliment, her right hand coming back up to shuffle across her nose. “Ah, thank you?”

Giggling at her utter lack of words or charm, you grab her hand as it falls from in front of her face. “C’mon! We have so much to do. I’m so excited to teach you how to bake!” you say in a high-pitched voice, obviously excited.

Pulling her by the—fucking giant—hand to the back of the bakery where you do all the… well, baking, you continue, “I’m almost done setting up everything for us. There are a few ingredients I have to pull out since I wasn’t gonna be using them, but it shouldn’t be too long until we can start.”

“I—oh,” Ellie lets out a strangled breath as she is suddenly dragged by you into the back room. “That’s okay. I’m just, uh, really excited for the cupcakes.”

As you lead Ellie towards the back of the bakery, you can't help but chuckle at her adorable awkwardness. "Don't worry, I promise it'll be fun," you reassure her, looking behind you with a warm smile. "And don't worry about being nervous. Baking is all about having a good time and enjoying the process."

Ellie nods once, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be great," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Reaching the back room, you release Ellie's hand and gesture towards the kitchen area. "Here we are," you say, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the chairs you pulled back here from the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable while I grab the rest of the ingredients."

As you rummage through the cabinets and pull out the remaining ingredients needed for the cupcakes, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of teaching Ellie how to bake. Getting to spend any time with the adorably awkward, puppy-like freckle-faced girl was a blessing, but getting to do your favorite thing with her? It’s a dream come true.

Returning to the counter with an armful of ingredients, you grin at Ellie. "Alright, let's get started," you say eagerly. “First up, we have to… turn on the oven,” you stumble in the middle of your sentence as you get lost looking at Ellie’s tanned face, trying to memorize the placement of her paint-splattered freckles so that you could imagine her going do—that isn’t what today is about.

Ellie nods once, standing to her feet. “Sounds easy enough.”

As Ellie stands up, hands on her knees to help her get up, you can't help but admire the way her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as she looks at you. Holy shit, she’s looking at you. "Great!" you exclaim, shaking off your momentary distraction—for the hundredth time—and focusing on the task at hand. "Let's get this show on the road."

Together, you and the freckle-faced girl move towards the oven, your hands brushing against each other as you reach for the knob. Heat crawling up your neck and over the apples of your cheeks, you quickly move your hand and turn the knob to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, the soft hum of the oven heating up filling the air.

Still hot in the face, you turn toward Ellie, "Okay, next step, cupcake pans," you say, gesturing toward the neatly lined trays on the counter. With Ellie by your side, arms brushing, you grab the pans and place them on the counter, ready to put the liners in.

As you work, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring her focused expression as she carefully places each cupcake liner in its designated spot like it’s some kind of science experiment that could go wrong. Her tongue slightly sticking out of her plump lips in concentration is definitely cuter than it should be.

What you weren’t ready for was to have the auburn-haired girl turn her head and look at you as you distractedly stared at her, unable to shake the image of her soft, freckled cheeks, long, slender fingers, and strong arms from your mind.

Caught off guard by Ellie's piercing green gaze, you feel your heart skip a beat as you quickly avert your eyes. Clearing your throat, you focus on the task at hand, determined to maintain composure.

"Um, so, uh, yeah," you stammer, trying to regain your train of thought. "Looks like we're all set with the cupcake pans." You can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you turn back to the task, hoping to distract yourself from the intensity of Ellie's gaze.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the extra cupcake liners, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully place them back in a stack, ready for you to put away later.

When you're done—and your hands aren’t shaking anymore—you finally drag your gaze back to Ellie. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she is still looking at you. Her green gaze—what you can only describe as a moss-covered forest bathed in warm, sparkling sunlight—feels like taking a knife to the heart, her head tilt—so dog-like—a sucker punch to the gut. You want her eyes on you forever—to bask in the warmth of her eyes and bathe in the depths of her soul—you realize as your heart tries to beat out of your chest.

Somehow, you find it within yourself to tear your eyes away from Ellie’s; it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, and you run a bakery by yourself. Clearing your throat and staring at the prepped pans, you say, “Ah, um, we can start making the batter now, I guess.”

Ellie doesn’t hold in her laugh at your obvious discomfort, her melodic laughter filling the room with a warmth that soothes your frayed nerves. Despite the embarrassment of being caught in a moment of vulnerability, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sound of her laughter.

"Yeah, let's get started on that batter," Ellie says, her voice laced with amusement as she reaches for the ingredients on the counter. “What do we start with, pretty girl?”

“I–uh, holy shit…”

The freckled girl laughs even harder at your stunned expression, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised. “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” she says, lips quirked up as she nudges your chin with her hand.

Her hand on you gets your mind racing in all different directions before you remember where you are. Snapping your gaping mouth shut, teeth clacking together, you gather yourself. “Uh yeah… we have to, ah… start with the dry ingredients.”

Ellie hums a “Mhmm” out, mouth still curved in a cocky smile as she tilts her head again—her stupidly pretty auburn hair catching the midday light filtering in from the window—leaning her hip against the counter.

“We have to shift the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and baking soda together into… this large bowl.” you point at every ingredient when you name them, picking up the stainless steel bowl when you find it.

“Sounds easy enough.”

This time, it’s you who hums an answer as you put the bowl down and grab the ingredients to start measuring. “If I measure, would you shift, Ellie?”

“Yes, ma’am.” she gives you a little salute.

So, as you hand over every measured dry ingredient, Ellie shifts it into the bowl. Her tongue makes another appearance as she focuses on getting every ingredient into the bowl with no spillage, causing you to overfill the ¼ teaspoon of baking soda. You quickly get the right amount into the teaspoon and clean up your mess, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Okay, now that’s done, we have to add the salt and whisk everything together.”

Ellie reaches for the salt, adding it to the bowl as you grab the whisk. She slides the bowl over to you, watching intently as you whisk. It’s one of the most mundane, boring parts of the baking process, yet she looks so entranced by the whisk circling the bowl, mixing the ingredients together.

Once everything is thoroughly mixed, you tap the whisk on the bowl and set it aside, putting your hands on your hips and turning towards the girl leaning casually on your counter. “Can I trust you with a knife?”

“Wh–I–Yes!” She splutters, eyebrows raised.

Giggling quietly to yourself, hand over your mouth, you shake your head. Dropping your hand, you say, “Sorry, I just had to ask. I need you to cut the butter if you could, please.”

“How could I say no to those puppy dog eyes, hmm?”

This time, it’s you who splutters, caught off guard. Instead of deigning the tease with a response, you turn your back to Ellie, hiding your burning face and grabbing the stand mixer you equipped with a paddle attachment. When that’s set up, and you can feel the burning embarrassment leave your face, you turn to Ellie, who is wielding a knife, cutting the room-temperature butter into uneven pieces.

“Babe, it’s gotta be more uniform than that.”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyebrows furrowed, pupils blown wide, and knife almost cutting into her fingers. “Wh–what did you just call me?”

Caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to come up with a plausible explanation. The air feels thick with tension, every second stretching out into an eternity as you search for the right words to say. You hadn’t even realized you said it; it came so naturally, calling the auburn-haired girl babe. “I… nothing, nothing at all,” you spit out quickly, eyes going wide.

“Nah-uh, you called me ‘babe.’” A loud clattering sound makes you startle, your eyes moving from Ellie’s piercing greens to the knife that just hit the countertop.

"I… I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It just… slipped out."

Ellie's gaze remains fixed on you, you can feel it like a weight on your skin, pinning you in place as you struggle to regain your composure.

“Look at me,” she demands. You follow her directions immediately, your gaze taking in her expression. She looked almost dazed with a quizzical brow as she scratched her head.

"I'm sorry," you continue, your words tumbling out in a rush. "It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

For a moment, the silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing. And then, without warning, Ellie's features soften, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," she says softly, her voice like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

As Ellie's soft smile spreads across her face, her pearly whites making an appearance, a sense of relief washes over you like a warm embrace. Your shoulders drop from where they had taken a place beside your ears, and tension leaks out of you like butter in a baking croissant. The weight that had been pressing down on you lifted away like a heavy fog dispersing in the morning sun.

"Thanks," you murmur, gratitude lacing your words as you meet Ellie's gaze once more. Her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart flutter, a silent reassurance that everything is okay between you.

With a playful glint in her eye, Ellie leans closer, her voice a soft whisper falling from her plump lips that sends shivers down your spine. "You know," she says, her tone teasing, "I don't mind being called babe."

Your heart skips a beat at her words.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Ellie's presence. "Good to know," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll try to remember that for next time."

As the last of the tension melts away like butter as it’s baked into the delicious treats you make, you and Ellie dive into the joyful task of baking red velvet cupcakes together. With each step of the recipe, you find yourselves falling into a comfortable rhythm, working seamlessly together as if you've been doing this for years.

The scent of cocoa and vanilla fills the air as you and Ellie chat and laugh, exchanging stories and getting to know each other on a deeper level. From childhood memories to dreams for the future, you two open your hearts and minds to each other.

As the cupcakes bake in the oven, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring the way her eyes light up when she talks about her passions and the infectious laughter that bubbles up from within her.

And when the cupcakes are finally cooled and ready, their red tops gleaming with perfection, you and Ellie decorate the cupcakes with swirls of cream cheese frosting and a sprinkle of red velvet crumbs together, playfully bumping shoulders and laughing at Ellie’s attempts at decorating.

As you sit down to enjoy the fruits of your labor, savoring each bite of the moist, decadent cupcakes, you realize that this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship—and perhaps something more.

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

Batfam’s Father’s Day plans

(also on Ao3)

"Morning, Bruce."

The way Stephanie says that instantly makes him look up. She traces her socked toe on the right angles of the tile, looking down.

"Morning, Steph." Bruce puts his coffee down. "Something wrong?"

"Huh?" She perks up in realization. "No, not at all. I actually just have something for you. I stopped by Walgreens on patrol last night 'cause I ran out of antiseptic, and I saw something that reminded me of you."

She hands him a dark blue greeting card with a cartoon fruit bat and Comic Sans text reading: You drive me batty, but I love you.

"Get it? 'Cause it's a bat, and you're the Batman." She scratches the back of her neck. "Not trying to make it weird or anything, you're just a cool mentor and whatnot. But also, it's nice to have someone who you can mess around with. My old man was always talking business even when he was at home—you kinda do that too, but in a good way 'cause anything's better than being a D-list villain, y'know. Plus, unlike him, you're working on striking a balance. Sometimes you even have a sense of humor." She chuckles awkwardly. "Anyway, I'm going on a jog. Text me if you need anything."

Before he processes her rambling, she grabs a granola bar and races out the door. He opens the card and out falls out a handful of purple confetti plus an ever-rare two-dollar bill. Smiling, he brushes the confetti up and puts it in his shirt pocket.

Bruce checks his watch. Everyone else is already out, except for Cass. She was out late last night on that Clayface mission, but even she should be up by this time. He fixes her a bowl of cereal with the package instructions and brings it upstairs.

"Cass?" He knocks. "Are you up yet? It's past 9:30."

He hears the duvet crunch like a candy wrapper as she shuffles around. A moment later, the door swings open as a messy-haired Cass yawns.

"I'll leave this up here for you," he says, putting the bowl on the dresser. "Any big plans today?"

She shakes her head. "Write reports. And relax."

"Well, you deserve a break. Great job on the stakeout, Princess." He plants a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Love," she says.

"Huh?"

"Favorite thing you do. Love."

He laughs softly. "I try. Now go get dressed."

The rest of the day goes by like any other. Despite it being Sunday, he still has a meeting scheduled with some Singaporean investors on their timezone. By eleven, he and some other executives are gathered around the long conference table as the video call drones on, and it's not until over an hour later that they're finally let out. Bruce loosens his tie and Tim does the same, sighing in relief and exhaustion.

Bruce asks, "Did you have lunch yet?"

"Oh, I forgot that's a thing," Tim says, stretching. "Hey, remember that ice cream place on 32nd?"

"You want ice cream for lunch?"

"I'd break your no killing rule for their M&M cookie sundae, okay?" he says. "Besides, remember when you took my friends and I there even though we massively bombed our first off-world fight? I might still be a massive perfectionist but that made me get a little more comfortable with failing. Anyway, I thought it'd be cool to stroll down memory lane—and have junk food as a meal without Alfred knowing. Unless you're busy, which I totally get."

"Not at all," Bruce replies, putting an arm around Tim's shoulders. "Duke and Damian will be at the arcade all day and I don't have any urgent side business."

And so, instead of calling Alfred for a ride, they journey through the Gotham subways with Tim's camera capturing the Grammy-worthy saga of a billionaire CEO battling a common turnstyle. They get a few side-glances in the sparse train car, but besides a teenager asking for Tim's autograph, the civilians leave them alone. Pretty soon, they're at a 1950s-themed ice cream parlor, where the waitress slides their orders down the long chromium bar.

"Why do they call it a banana split?" Bruce asks, grabbing the cocoa powder shaker.

Tim pauses mid-bite of his cookie. "...Because they split the banana in half?"

"Really?"

He moves the whipped cream aside to reveal the cut banana in Bruce's dish.

"How would it sound if I said I never noticed that?"

He smirks. "That's why I'm the brains of this operation."

"Indeed you are." Bruce ruffles his hair. "Though this head of yours could use some shampoo."

"Will saying I love you get me a free pass out of it?"

"No." He laughs. "But I love you too, son."

Alfred catches on to their little dessert escapade and picks them up from the parlor, though not without commenting on the strawberry stain on Bruce's jacket. As Tim plugs his music into the car, Bruce takes the time to listen to the voicemails he got during their lunch break.

"Hiya Bruce," Clark's voice plays. "I hope today's going swell for you. I just want you to know that I'm glad I can call you my pard'ner." Bruce snickers at the country twang.

Next is Diana. "Bruce, I apologize if I must keep this brief since I have a curator's convention today. However, I wish to tell you that you are an invaluable teammate and even more remarkable friend."

"Hey Batman, I gave you a shoutout to the Central City press for your help taking down Weather Wizard," Barry says. "Also, thanks for letting me borrow your communicator. I can always count on you to be overprepared. Have a good one!"

"Bats, tell your kid to quit taking my yogurt from the fridge." Ah, good old Hal. "Also, today's all about guys like you, so... yeah. I admit, you could be worse."

Finally, there's one from Zatanna. "Afternoon, Bruce! I'd tell you in person if I wasn't caught up in Kahndaq, but I hope today is extra special for you. I know how much the birds mean to you, and I know they're gonna treat you well."

(There's also one from Ollie, but he's just asking if he can use the communicator after Barry. In the background, Dinah is is clearly ordering food.)

After dropping Tim and Alfred home and switching to a more discreet vehicle, Bruce makes his way to pick two of his other kids up from the arcade.

"Did you guys have fun?" Bruce asks as they climb in.

"We decimated every game," Damian says, "and won you the finest specimen as a trophy."

He plops a five-foot Snorlax into the front seat and buckles the seatbelt.

"This is for me?" Bruce asks.

"Tt, who else would it be for?"

"I didn't win as many tickets," Duke says, "but I also got you a spider ring and a Chinese finger trap." He puts them in the cupholder.

"Why are you giving me all your prizes?"

"Again, who else would we give them to?" Damian asks.

Duke says, "I think what he means is that you do a lot for us, so this is a thanks from us."

As silly as it might seem, Bruce is genuinely touched.

Pre-patrol dinner is a quiet affair, with Kate stopping by because she apparently forgot to go grocery shopping. She takes a fingerling potato off his plate.

"Um, you're welcome?" he says.

"Bruce, we're family. It's what we do." She takes a bite.

He takes a piece of asparagus from her. "I wish all of us were here, though. Too bad Dick and Jason have that Penguin stakeout. Hopefully they're being safe."

"Even if things go wrong, they were taught by the best. You should trust them more." Selina gets up and places a peck on his cheek before going to get a drink.

"I do," he mumbles into his meal. "It's the world I don't trust."

As he puts on his cowl, he asks Barbara for an update on the evening. So far, Duke is handling a carjacking, the girls are preoccupied with a strip mall hostage situation, Damian is patrolling Metropolis with Jon, and Kate is kicking off her shift with a car chase against Two-Face. Tim and Selina are staying back to catch up on some overdue reports, but other than that, the cave is quiet.

"Before you go," Barbara says, "my dad was cleaning out the attic and found something you might like."

From her bag, she pulls out a blue mug that says: World's Okayest Dad.

"My brother got it for him a long time ago, but... you know. It's all yours now, if you want it."

He takes it, running his thumb along the words.

"It suits you," she says before turning back to relay something to Stephanie.

The route laid out for him tonight gives him the perfect opportunity to swing by and check on two of his boys. He lands on the rooftop silently, where Nightwing and Red Hood have already set up camp. Evidently, they don't notice him as they keep going with their conversation.

"Did you get dropped on your head as a baby?" Jason asks. "Sour cream and Greek yogurt are not the same thing."

"They totally are, change my mind." Dick glances through his binoculars. "No sign of Cobblepot yet."

A moment goes by as Jason not-so-covertly steals some of his brother's patrol snacks.

"So how'd family therapy go yesterday?" Jason asks. "Did the old bat finally show an emotion?"

"It was pretty insightful, at least on my part." Dick lowers his binoculars. "I think I realized where Bruce's persistence comes from. It's annoying as hell, but I think that's how he maintains hope. And who knows, maybe it's his love language."

Jason scoffs.

"I'm serious," he says. "I know none of us are stellar at this family thing, but we care about each other. You can't deny that. We just gotta... refine how we express it."

"Count me out."

"Jaybird."

"Codenames, Dickhead."

Dick snickers. "You love us, admit it. All of us."

Jason mutters a string of curses under his breath before saying, "If you tell him, I'm filling your mattress with sour cream."

Bruce smiles and leaps to the next building.

At the end of the night, Bruce finds Alfred brewing tea in the kitchen and takes the kettle from him.

"I got this," he says. "Why don't you go relax in the living room? I think they added your favorite detective movie to Netflix."

"This is a pleasant surprise." Alfred raises an eyebrow. "What brought it on?"

"It's Father's Day, of course," he replies, pouring the cups of tea. "You know you've always been a second dad to me."

"You made that clear with last year's breakfast surprise," Alfred says. "Care to join me?"

"Always," Bruce says. "By the way, do the kids seem different to you today?"

623 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

part ii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

It did not occur to you to set a morning alarm as you are always woken by a knock on the door and a shout to get ready for school. Today you are woken by a hand on your shoulder and the unexpected touch startles you out of slumber.

Your hand swipes in a frenzied arc that Felix catches, smooth and swift.

And that’s how yesterday comes rushing back all at once. You stare into the eyes of your so-called bodyguard and bed-mate, recalling his brief outburst of emotion but finding Felix to be unresponsive and bland once more. His mouth is in that stupid flat line and he cocks his head, glancing at your hand in his fist.

“Good morning,” he says in that deep voice.

You wrench your hand back. He lets it go.

“The car’s outside,” he says. “You should get dressed for school.”

“What?” Your head whips to your bedside clock. You are usually woken half an hour before the car arrives, not when it is already at the door. “Why didn’t anyone wake me!”

You frantically swing out of bed, limbs in a windmill. Felix takes a few steps back.

“Sorry,” he says. “I thought you’d get up on your own.”

He is already dressed in his school uniform, white collared shirt, grey dress pants, grey blazer. He has the dark necktie in his hands and his red beanie on his head. Your eye twitches with annoyance at it, but maybe that annoyance is just for his general existence.

“You can’t wear hats, stupid,” you say, reaching to snatch the beanie off his head. He dodges your hand. “They’ll take it away.”

He looks at you uncertainly but swipes the beanie off his head.

“Go get dressed,” is all he says.

With an eye roll, you stomp over to your massive walk-in closet. It is very annoying that it does not have a door you can slam, but you slide it shut as forcefully as you can.

The uniform makes it a little easier to get ready quick, but you are still annoyed at the rush. You scurry out of the closet still shoving your arms through the blazer sleeves, your kilt longer than you like, with one sock pulled up to your knee and the other stuck around your ankle.

Felix is perched on the edge of the bed, all his attention on his tie. He clearly has no idea how to wear it properly, looping the fabric like an army knot.

You watch him. He looks at you then rips the tie off completely, crumpling it in his fist. Your own is already tied and he looks at it. You cross your arms. He stares at you.

You want him to ask for help just so you can say no, but he looks so pathetic sitting there in your girly bedroom in his schoolboy uniform, his hair still ruffled from removing his precious beanie. He looks even more ridiculous when he dons an unaffected air as if trying to appear more adult. It makes him look even more his age.

“Ugh.” You stomp over to him. “Give it to me.”

He obeys without protest, passing you the tie.

“I should strangle you with it,” you say, hooking it around his neck and jerking him closer. He bumps into your stomach. “Then all my problems would be solved.”

“Would they, though?” he asks, looking up at you with his glassy dark eyes, innocent despite the sass in his tone.

“Shut up,” you reply.

Even his laugh is deep. You hate him.

“There.” You push the knot up to his throat, tighter than necessary. He adjusts it wordlessly. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” he says, pretending to miss the sarcasm.

He ducks down and grabs your sock, tugging it up to your knee. The unexpectedness makes you jump. You feel an unbidden rush of embarrassed heat flow to your face, worsening when he looks up at you. You have a moment of proximity awareness, that a boy your own age is in your room and he is alone with you, and he has pretty dark eyes and freckles and a cute smile.

But then he says, “I’ll call your dad and tell him we slept in but should be on time for school.”

Then you remember what he is, and you hate him again.

“You’re gross,” is your lacklustre retaliation.

“Hmm, maybe, I haven’t showered yet today,” he says, then reaches into his backpack. “Also, if they’d take away my hat, do you think they’d take away this?”

The little freak pulls a gun out of his backpack and blinks up at you with complete innocence. When you just gawp at him, a smile tugs at his mouth and he scrunches up his face.

“Nahh, you’re right,” he says. “Bad idea for the first day of school.” Then he puts it in his drawer with his beanie and slams it shut. He smiles at you. “Shall we?” He gestures to the door.

You do not dignify his nonsense with a response. You grab your own backpack and storm out of the room.

The driver stops in his usual spot. It feels very routine until you and Felix get out of the car and it simply drives off. The driver usually waits until you are in sight of a guard posted at the main entrance to the high school.

Today, you and Felix walk side-by-side, looking like two regular students as you approach the school. You are still expecting to see one of the usual guards lurking around but you find no one when you search.

A part of you feels lighter, the weight of their scrutinizing stares lifted, but then you remember how Felix spent the car-ride on the phone with your father, and that weight settles heavy as stone in your gut. Felix is even worse than them, you tell yourself, because he is truly right beside you. The schoolboy routine might fool other people but you can’t let it fool you. Felix might look normal but he is not. You are still trapped. You cannot get complacent.

You huff and look at Felix. He has his head tipped all the way back, looking in awe at the high ceilings of the entryway. With his true purpose in your mind, his presence grows more infuriating by the second.

“Between this and the uniform, you’d think they don’t have schools in Australia,” you say dryly.

He looks at you. He is wearing a pristine new backpack and clutching the straps, standing ramrod straight, very contrary to the lazy sling of your worn leather bag and equally lazy slouch.

“They do,” he answers simply.

“Then why are you acting like you’ve never attended school before?” you snap.

He just blinks. “I haven’t,” he says.

The answer surprises you to silence. Before you can find a reply, you are interrupted by the familiar voice of your best friend.

“Yo, yo, yo, what’s up, it’s my favourite girl and I’m not just saying that because she’s the only girl who will talk to me.”

You can’t help but snort, forever amused with Jisung’s antics. He very literally bounces up to you, miming dribbling a basketball, then looking like he’s dancing, or maybe casting a spell. He swirls his hands around and around, then holds his arms open for a hug.

You accept it, looking at Felix even though there is nothing for him to report. The previous guards already reported your friendship with Han Jisung but your father has never said anything about it. You figure he sees Jisung as a non-entity, too poor to cross his radar, unthreatening with his anxiety and goofy disposition, and ultimately worthless thanks to his shit grades. Your father doesn’t pay attention to human things, like how Jisung is funny when you get to know him, how he loves music more than anything, or how he is masterful with a pen, just not academically.

Felix also fails to notice these things. His attention narrows to a pinprick, gaze focused on Jisung’s backwards cap.

“Nice hat,” Felix says, undoubtedly thinking about his beanie back home.

Hats are genuinely not allowed; Jisung just makes his own rules and lives by them, even when it gets him walloped him up the head by the math teacher.

Jisung notices Felix for the first time, his mouth curving into a perfectly round ‘O’ of surprise. It is not everyday you are towing another student in your shadow. You are cordial enough with your classmates but it’s hard to keep friends when you can never see them. Jisung is the only one who never pushes it, content with your company when he has it.

“Whaaat,” he says, looking at Felix then at you. “Another new kid?”

“Huh?” you say. “There’s another new kid?”

“Bro, things are weeeird today,” Jisung says, making an exploding gesture beside his head. “Got back from the weekend: no more security guards! And that janitor with the lazy eye who used to stare at me? Gone. Just poof.” That janitor was one of your guards and he was watching you, not Jisung, but you always nodded along whenever Jisung went on a tirade about government watchdogs. “Then someone says it’s all because of this rich new kid, that his dad didn’t like it or something so all he did was snap his fingers and boom, now the school is his. Which is obviously stupid. Money doesn’t let you get away with changing a whole school.”

Money lets you get away with a lot of things. There is a tingling pain where your cheek is still swollen from your father smacking you. Your force yourself to smile at your naïve friend.

“I don’t think that’s this kid,” you say.

“Aw, no, I knew that,” Jisung says. “I saw the other guy already. He’s like… whoa. Like whoa. Like I hate him. He better not talk to me, because it’s on fucking sight.”

You burst out laughing because Jisung couldn’t win a fight against a battered puppy. He laughs along, aware of his own ridiculousness.

Felix just stands there, smiling politely but not laughing. Eventually he asks, “Why don’t you like him?”

“Bro, this dude was so beautiful it’s like he was wearing a filter in real life,” Jisung says this like a curse, dramatically scowling. “Don’t worry, though, you’re cool with me. Not that you’re ugly or anything. My bad. Anyway, I’m Jisung, what’s up?”

“Hi, I’m Felix.”

Jisung holds out his fist and Felix looks at it. You wonder if Felix even knows what a fist bump is. Maybe they don’t have them in whatever backcountry crevice your father dug him out of, seeing as he has balked at several other mundane things, but then Felix smiles and completes the fist bump.

He really does look like normal school kid. You have to swallow down your aggravation.

“Fee-licks…?” Jisung says. “Weird name. Cool boots. Sexy voice. I’m super jealous, maybe I do hate you. Are the freckles real?”

“Uh.” Felix furrows his brow. “Yeah?” He says it like it should be obvious and you hate that you almost laugh.

“Cool, cool,” Jisung says. “And the accent is…?”

“Australian.”

“Naaaur, that’s sick,” Jisung says, then clearly regrets it. He turns his cap around to cover his eyes. “Sorry. It’s a Monday. But this is fun, we’re a menage-a-trois now.”

“Um,” Felix says, coughing. “Do you know what that means?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, frowning at Felix. “Because no we’re not. Felix isn’t my friend. I just said I’d show him to his classes but I’m still sitting with you and he’s gonna deal with it.”

You and Felix stare at each other and Jisung looks between you, eyes ping-ponging. Eventually, he smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“All right,” Jisung says. “You’re in a friendly mood, as usual. We love to see it. Felix, don’t let her scare you, she’s nice, you just need to give her a treat first. That’s why I carry around a bag of her favourite spicy peanuts even though I am super allergic.” His backpack is already unzipped, a messy binder sticking out of it, so he easily reaches back and plucks out a bag of peanuts.

You take them from him, rolling your eyes affectionately.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go before your new arch nemesis walks by and I have to save your sorry ass.”

You loop arms with Jisung and move swiftly ahead. Felix trails behind you, hands on his backpack straps, glancing around the corridor. You don’t know if his careful regard is curiosity or just him being a bodyguard, eyeing the rambunctious students and their open lockers with a wary eye.

Jisung prattles on about some new cartoon. He looks back to ask Felix if he has ever heard of it and Felix shakes his head. While they are engaged with each other, your own attention strays.

It’s then you see him.

You couldn’t care less about a beautiful new kid, not when Lee Minho is just a few feet away.

Oh god. He really is perfect. He looks like he walked off the screen of a drama, slouching against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his tie loose and blazer unbuttoned. His brown hair falls neatly around his handsome face, his mouth quirked up in a smirky little half-grin. He raises an eyebrow in reply to his friend, then he laughs, his whole face brightening with his delight.

Minho is two years older than you, not yet a senior but the school’s It Boy regardless. He attended the senior prom in his freshman year, escorting one of the senior girls, and it’s no surprise. He’s handsome, he’s hilarious, he’s smart, he’s talented. He’s everything. Charmingly brusque and occasionally snarky, but a famously good friend underneath his teasing. He has never been single for more than a day, but his ego has never blown up and none of his ex-girlfriends have anything bad to say about him.

Your crush is like a fuzzy hug. The edge of your vision blurs in a dreamy frame around his face. He lifts a hand and tucks some hair behind his ear at the same moment he glances aside. For a brief but substantial moment, your eyes meet. Your heart stops.

Then you step down funny and roll your ankle.

Despite holding your arm, Jisung is too slow to catch you. A small but strong hand grabs the back of your jacket and yanks, keeping you upright. It doesn’t stop you from stumbling around like a newborn foal, but at least you don’t hit the ground.

Your face is burning hot, your gut sinking with a flush of embarrassment. You chance a look at Minho, his face in a somewhat concerned cringe before he goes back to laughing with his friends.

Oh my god, you think. This is the worst week of my life. And that’s fucking saying something.

“Are you all right?” Felix’s dumb deep voice is suddenly in your ear. He is standing a lot closer, his hand in the middle of your back.

You shove him off, glaring. Jisung puts a hand on your shoulder and says, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” It makes you feel like a poorly behaved horse. Minho isn’t paying attention anymore but it all feels so wretchedly embarrassing.

Why is your existence so pathetic? All you do is get jerked around, physically and emotionally. You are a walking, talking font of humiliation. Your face stings and your ankle hurts and both boys are looking at you with concern, except one of them is your friend who doesn’t know anything about your life and one of them is on a payroll and knows too much.

“I’m fine!” you snap. You tug down your blazer and adjust your collar. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, baby,” Jisung says, trying to laugh, his big eyes still full of pity. He glances back at Minho, then looks at Felix. Barely audible, he whispers, “She likes him.”

“Jisung!” You whack him in the arm and he cries out like you chopped a limb.

Felix just looks over at Minho, cocks an eyebrow, then looks back at you. You have no idea why but it makes everything ten times worse. It is silly to feel that way because all the girls have a crush on Minho so it is not a well-kept secret. For some reason, Felix knowing you like someone makes it more embarrassing. Not even because of your father, though you are certain Felix will tell him soon enough.

You can’t even stomp to class because your ankle hurts. You settle for stalking with a broody countenance.

Your first classroom is arranged in tables that seat two, so you sit with Jisung in your usual spot. Felix takes the spot directly behind you. As a new face, he gets curious glances from other students. He pays them no mind. He unpacks his bag in silence then he folds his hands neatly on the desk and stares at you.

You are glaring ferociously at a straight-faced Felix when Jisung elbows you sharply in the side. You whack him but this time he whacks you back, making his big brown eyes even bigger than usual. You look at him funny. It takes a second to realize he is trying to point with his eyes.

You look up just in time for an insanely gorgeous stranger to pass the desk. You are certain your expression betrays you. At least with Minho, you are mostly practiced at schooling your reactions, but this one catches you off guard.

This must be the other new kid. He’s really tall and slender, lacking Minho’s slightly thicker athleticism but more than compensating with a natural grace. His black hair falls in a very neat shape around his perfect face, his cheekbones high, his brows thick, his lips full. He is wearing a cross-strap satchel that he gracefully swings off.

The only available seat is the one beside Felix. The two boys glance at each other only briefly, neither knowing the other is also new. All eyes are on them. Felix must be aware but ignores it, his gaze resolutely focussed on yours. The other new guy is clearly used to attention, smiling softly as he looks around.

His eyes meet yours, your heart puttering because he holds your gaze.

His soft smile spreads.

Jisung coughs loudly. You look at him and he mouths the word, “Traitor.”

There is no time for conversation because the bell rings and the teacher starts class. She takes a minute to introduce the two new kids: the foreigner, Lee Felix, and the transfer, Hwang Hyunjin. Hyunjin apparently attended school on the other end of town but switched when his family moved into this district.

It sounded like bullshit. He crossed the city, not the country. Surely no one transferred schools for something so petty as a twenty minute commute. Maybe if Hyunjin was not so stunning, people would have bought the excuse, but the whole school was very interested in knowing everything about him.

By lunch, several stories have spread, everything from expulsion for fighting to sleeping with a teacher, but you doubt the truth of the tales. Almost all the stories tie into the removal of the security presence and you know that has nothing to do with Hyunjin.

By far the most ridiculous is that he murdered another student and his rich father got rid of the security team so they would never find evidence if he killed again.

Jisung told you that one. You are not entirely convinced he didn’t start the rumour himself.

“Felix,” Jisung says. He points across the cafeteria table with a carrot stick. “Tell the truth, have you ever killed anyone?”

Felix chokes on his soup. “What?” he asks, smiling with forced civility.

You doubt Jisung notices his discomfort. He is off in his own world, drawing shapes in the air with the carrot.

“I just think,” Jisung drawls, “that it would be funny if everyone thought Mister Supermodel Oh Look At Me Look At Me was a serial killer, which he totally is by the way, but actually it was the super chill Australian dude with the skater hair.”

Felix brushes at his dyed blonde bangs. He glances at you but you have no rescue to offer, especially because Jisung’s question rattled you.

No, not the question. The answer. It clearly unnerved Felix. Why would it startle him if the answer was not a resounding yes? Has Felix killed someone? He’s fourteen years old. How could a kid have that kind of history?

How could a kid get hired for a job like this? you remind yourself. How could a kid be trusted to do the work of a whole team of men? How could a kid devote every second of the day to watching someone else?

How could a kid be willing to drive a knife through his hand just because an awful old man asked him?

Felix clears his throat. He grabs a napkin and dabs at his mouth. By the time Jisung looks at him, Felix is smiling brightly. He laughs a carefree laugh, completely blithe, like he has never had a problem bigger than flunking a math test.

“You’re funny,” Felix says. “I’ve like killed a few bugs if that counts. Augh, you don’t even want to know the things I’ve squashed.”

“Ohh, gross, yeah, Australian bugs are like the size of my head, right?” Jisung cups his whole face in demonstration.

“Bigger,” Felix says, scrunching his nose cutely.

You feel sick.

You shove your tray away and stand up, drawing their eyes to you. Jisung asks where you’re going but Felix is already on his feet, ready to follow. You don’t bother protesting. It won’t do any good.

You are thinking.

Everyone has been so preoccupied with Hyunjin that no one has remarked on Felix at all. You and Jisung tend to blend into the background so his seeming friendship with the outsiders probably didn’t help matters, but a new kid tends to garner attention no matter what.

You wonder if Hyunjin is a plant, another of your father’s men, someone to take the heat off Felix until he’s settled. Another pair of eyes. Watching you. Studying you. Following you. In the light, in the dark, staring, recording, remembering –

Felix touches your arm and you whip around. It catches him by surprise and clearly triggers something, because two seconds later you are squished against his chest with no way out.

He releases you quickly, realizing what he did, and you stumble.

“Closet,” you say before he can speak.

He follows your line of sight to the nearby janitorial closet, opening his mouth to protest when you push him. He gives you a beleaguered look but goes. He walks with a casual saunter like nothing is amiss, like a closet is a normal place to go.

You close the door, leaving you and Felix in the pitch black darkness. There is probably a light somewhere but you are too frazzled to bother searching. You get right to the point.

“Is Hyunjin one of ours?” you demand.

“Huh?” You can’t see his face but you can picture that crinkle in his brow. “What do you mean, one of ours?”

“Does he work for my father?”

“Obviously not,” Felix says. “He’s clearly a civilian?” He says this with incredulity, like it should be obvious.

“How do you know that for sure?”

“Because I’m not a civilian,” he says, sounding impatient. You wish you could see his face after all, wondering if he is showing proper emotion again. Maybe he’s rolling his eyes. It would reassure you, in a way, make your fears feel silly. “Look, I know the timing is like funny and stuff, but it’s really just a coincidence. Your father would tell me if he was planning something so I could play along. It would be stupid to plant something and not tell me.”

“So maybe you knew,” you say. You are now thankful for the dark because tears spring to your eyes. “Maybe you knew all along. Maybe Hyunjin isn’t the only one. Maybe there’s a dozen of you except now I don’t know what you look like. Maybe you’re all watching me. Maybe you’re all laughing at me, watching my dad do what he wants, watching him laugh at me too—”

“Are you crying?”

He sounds genuinely surprised. A moment later, his clumsy hands are bumping your face. You try to push him away but he mistakes it in the dark, thinking you are pulling him closer. You can feel him step forward, his hand on your cheek.

“Sweetheart,” he says, with so much depth that it makes you shiver. His accent makes the word sound fuller, the heart deeper. It sounds honest. “I have one job,” Felix says. His thumb catches a tear. “Just one. My job is to keep you safe. Not to keep secrets from you, and not to lie for your father. Maybe that’s someone’s job, probably, but it’s not me. I’m not lying to you. I’m just here to keep you safe. That’s it. I promise.”

You grab his wrist and hold it for a shuddering second. A part of you wants to cling to it like a foolish little girl. You’re both too young to be in here.

You fling his hand off your face.

“I don’t feel safe,” you say. You wipe your own face quickly. “I hate you. I hate my life. Get away from me.”

He has the decency to hang back a few feet, but Felix has no real choice in the matter. You wonder if he ever did, but you don’t dwell on that thought for too long. You can’t bring yourself to mourn for his life as well as your own. You need someone to hate and your father is never around, so you spend the rest of the day glaring at Felix. You don’t talk again, not on the car-ride home, not at the house, not in your room.

The cook prepared dinner and left it on the stove. You refuse to eat until late evening, holed up in your room under the pretense of doing schoolwork. You text Jisung but not about anything substantial. You are pretty sure your father installed spyware on your phone. Better to keep it simple and veer away from heavy subjects when Jisung hits you with the watery-eyed emojis.

Felix checks on you occasionally but otherwise leaves you be. You hear him on the phone with your father, his professional voice so uncanny for a kid, deep voice or not.

Eventually you make your way to the kitchen where Felix is sitting at the counter. He is wearing his stupid beanie again, the same ripped jeans as yesterday, the same t-shirt and flannel. There is a stack of papers beside an open schoolbook. You can’t help but notice the printed book report sitting at the top of the pile, one not due until Friday.

“How’d you finish that so fast?” you ask, forgetting you weren’t going to speak to him.

Felix looks up from reading the textbook. Surprise creases his brow. He probably didn’t expect you to start a conversation, and certainly not about something so mundane as schoolwork.

He glances at the report then up at you. “Uhh,” he says, then his face cracks into a grin, “I’m not actually here for an education. I mean, the readings are… kinda fun… I never did homework before so… anyway. Someone does the homework for me, you know, to keep up appearances and stuff.”

“That’s not fair,” you say. “Why can’t they do my homework too? Wait, do you wanna do my homework while they do yours?”

“No, because you are there for an education,” Felix says lightly, almost teasing. This is your nicest conversation so far. It unsettles you more than an argument, so you say nothing more and head to the stove for your dinner. You are spooning it into a bowl when Felix clears his throat. You hear papers shuffle. “That’s not all,” he says. “I, uhhh, I don’t know if you… if you even want this. I just… thought it might make you feel more, I dunno, at ease, or something, if you saw for yourself.”

You cannot help your curiosity. You accept the paper he offers.

“It’s, uh, Hyunjin,” he says. “I asked for some research and information just to show you he’s, like, real. It’s just his school record and stuff…”

You give the papers a cursory glance. They could be faked but you do actually believe that Hyunjin’s timely arrival is nothing more than coincidence. No one can get his story straight but that’s because high school gossip is stupid and unreliable. Hyunjin is gorgeous and graceful when he is trying, but he’s also somehow clumsy as a newborn foal, stumbling all over the field during gym class and whining when a tennis racket grazed his elbow. Nothing about him really screams super spy. Plus, you doubt a spy would have got detention on his first day for skipping class and making out with one of the senior girls.

“It was fighting, if you’re curious,” Felix says.

You look up at him, eyebrow lifted.

“The reason he left his old school,” Felix clarifies. “He got expelled for getting in a fight with another student. Over a girl.”

He rolls his eyes and the unexpectedly sassy judgement makes you laugh. You don’t miss the flicker of delight that crosses his face, though you do ignore it. You poke at your rice bowl.

“I guess you’re not a romantic,” you say dryly.

“Uh, beating the shit out of someone is not romantic,” he says, still in a somewhat sassy tone, his eyebrows high. He closes the book and shakes his head. “Violence is never romantic. Violence is just violence.”

That does make you look at him longer. You are talking about romance, not family love, but it is still the closest anyone has come to telling you there is no love in violence.

“What about me?” you eventually say. “Aren’t you supposed to beat the shit out of someone for looking a little too long in my direction?”

“That’s different,” he says, frowning. “It’s my job. Why, who’s looking at you?”

You feel like he is goading you so you roll your eyes and walk away with the rice bowl.

“Is it Lee Minho?” he asks.

You turn and look at him with a scowl. “Minho hasn’t down anything,” you say. “He doesn’t even know I exist. What, are you gonna tell my dad every time someone takes a breath in the same room as me because they are stealing my potential oxygen?”

“Okay, first of all, don’t say hilarious things like that when you’re starting an argument, it’s really annoying.” Felix gets up and crosses the room. “Second of all, I didn’t tell your father anything. I didn’t tell him about Minho, and I didn’t tell about Jisung. Even though I’m pretty sure Jisung is the reason you snuck out for that party.”

Well, Minho was the reason, but it was Jisung who texted to tell you that he was at the same house party. The security team had confiscated your phone for the evening, adhering to your father’s phone privileges timetable, and you only got it back before bed. By the time you got dressed and snuck out, Minho had left the party, so you spent the night sitting with Jisung on the roof, complaining about stupid shit, completely unaware how much your life was about to change.

Did it change for the worse? You still don’t know. Felix has not confiscated your phone. It lends some credence to his honesty, but maybe it’s all a ploy…

“I can see you thinking,” Felix says, tipping his head as he scrutinizes you. “It’s like your face turns into a book.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” you lie. “And if I was, thinking isn’t a bad thing.”

“No, it’s not,” he says. “Except when you overthink so much that it makes you cry for no reason.”

“For no reason?” you shriek, a hot ripple of anger moving through you.

“Or that,” he says calmly. “You feel everything a lot and you let it take over—”

You look at him, mouth open, utterly incredulous. “I think I have every reason to behave the way I do,” you snap. “But aren’t you my daddy’s good little watchdog, repeating his words back to me?”

“I’m not repeating anything,” Felix says, looking marginally more worked up because of the accusation. He takes a breath and calms himself again. “I’m just saying, your anger isn’t helping the way you think it is.”

“It makes me feel better.”

“No, I’m sure it doesn’t,” he says. “Because it has no where to go. I see you and you just keep turning it onto yourself. And I get it. I know what that is, and I know what it feels like, and I also know if you let yourself feel all that… all that everything, so much, all the time, then it’s just going to burn you out. Then no one will have to lift a finger against you. You’ll do it to yourself. You’ll get tired. And he’ll win all the same.”

You just stare at him. You are certain your face is a book again, emotion written plainly.

Felix touches the back of his head and looks away. He looks at the ground. Finally, he looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really am just trying to do my job.”

“Right,” you say. “Your job.”

Keeping you safe from other people is just one part of the gig. The biggest part is keeping you safe from yourself.

You take your phone out of your back pocket and practically throw it at him. The bowl shakes in your trembling hand. You hate, more than anything, that he is so right, because your tears are on the surface again and it does not feel good.

“There,” you say.

His reflexes are fast. He doesn’t even fumble. He looks at the phone with confusion.

“You can take away the power chord for my computer too, if you want,” you say. “And you can lock me in my room – sorry, our room – when it’s curfew. And you can—”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Felix says, exasperated. He holds the phone out. “I’m not going to do any of that stuff. I’m not your enemy, I’m your bodyguard.”

“What if he makes you?” you ask. The he needs no clarification. “What if he puts my hand on the desk and tells you put a knife through it?”

“That won’t happen,” Felix says seriously. “Not if we work together. But if we keep going the way we’re going, then something bad is going to happen and we won’t be able to stop it.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” you say, venomous.

“Trust me,” he says. “I don’t. I’m just the same as you.”

“And what am I?”

“Scared.”

Silence settles between you. His arm is outstretched, the phone an offering. When all you do is stare at it, he tentatively approaches. He leaves room for refusal but steps closer and simply puts it in your pocket himself. He nods sharply at you.

A single gesture of goodwill cannot undo a lifetime of conditioning to assume the worst in your captors. Felix occupies a strange liminal territory in that he seems to simultaneously be a captor and captive. You spend the next couple weeks watching your bodyguard carefully, watching him as he establishes a routine, watching him as he blends into the background of your life as if he was always there.

You don’t hear from your father. You excel on your book report. You don’t hear from your father. You fail a math test. You don’t hear from your father. You fall in the backyard and scrape your leg so badly that Felix has to give you stitches. You don’t hear from your father.

You get in a fight with some asshole at school. The oafish senior smashes into Felix’s shoulder as he walks past. Felix can take a hit, of that you have no doubt, but he plays the part of skittish fourteen year old well. He ducks out of the way.

The senior thinks this is funny and grabs Felix by the hair, yanking him back. You watch, shocked, as the guy slams Felix up against the lockers so hard they rattle. There are a few shrieks and gasps from scattered onlookers. Someone runs off for a teacher but mostly people give a wide berth.

Felix’s jaw clenches then he smiles. Everyone is looking at the sweet, sunny face. You are certain only you see his balled fist.

“Aren’t you gonna apologize for walking into me?” the senior asks.

“Sorry,” Felix says, playing his part well. “I didn’t see you.” He tries to step away and the guy shoves him back. Felix sucks in a breath, steadying himself.

“Why not?” the guy further taunts.

Felix cannot fight for himself without revealing too much. You, on the other hand, can walk right up and smack the guy with your math book. You hit the back of his head and he stumbles then whips around with a furious glare.

“What the fuck, bitch?” he says.

You see red quickly. You spit at him.

“Don’t call me a bitch, bitch,” you snap.

He wipes the spit off his face and takes a menacing step towards you. Felix is quick, his feet planted, his assessing gaze no doubt analyzing weak spots.

The scene ends abruptly because someone else grabs the guy and shoves him back. You jump, startled, your heart rate tripling when Minho turns around to look at you.

“You okay?” Minho asks.

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Your anger evaporates, a mushy warmth replacing it.

Minho’s brow furrows and he looks at the senior. He gives him a little shove.

“What’s your problem?” Minho asks. “You like picking on kids?”

A viciously mean laugh rings out beside you. You turn your head to Hyunjin, his hand covering his mouth as he tries and fails to hold his giggles.

“That’s pathetic, man,” Hyunjin says, then he winks and puts up his fists. “Wanna try me next?”

You remember that Hyunjin got expelled for fighting. He must be putting on a show right now because his silly, limp fists wouldn’t do any harm.

It gets everyone laughing but that doesn’t take much given how much people swoon over Hyunjin. An unspoken rivalry has risen between him and Minho, though you never see them interacting. In true popular boy fashion, they are above active engagement. Still, it is significant that they have openly taken the same side in this altercation. It means the senior stands absolutely no chance.

He shoves Minho’s hand off his shoulder and glares at Felix.

“You’re not worth it,” he says and stomps off. You watch him go, hoping you don’t look so pathetically wounded when stomping around.

Jisung arrives late, but just in time to ‘comfort’ Felix.

“Don’t stress it, man, don’t stress it,” he says. “I mean, stress it a little, the hot guys got hotter and you’re gonna be bitchless forever, but other than that, don’t stress it.”

You are staring silently out the window on the car-ride home. Felix pokes your shoulder and you look at him.

“You know I’m supposed to be the bodyguard, right?” he says, dryly, but the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

You don’t return the smile, but you are less venomous than usual when you say, “You’re welcome, you big baby.”

He looks out the window and smiles.

You still don’t hear from your father.

One night, you are laying in bed beside Felix, a gulf of space between you as usual. You can hear him snoring. You think about him up against that row of lockers. You start overthinking. You know, logically, your father would not hire a second-rate bodyguard. You know better. You do.

“Felix,” you whisper, but he keeps snoring. You slip out of bed and he rolls onto his back, but then he goes back to snoring.

You slip into your walk-in closet. You text Jisung. It’s a Friday night so there’s a party somewhere. You change into party clothes and sneak back into your room. Felix is laying on his back, fast asleep, his breathing light.

The doors are all alarmed so that’s a bad way out. You make it all the way to the bedroom window when a very sturdy pair of arms wrap around you. You don’t even have time to scream. Felix bodily pulls you back through the window. When you fight him, he easily outmanoeuvres you. He always tries to be gentle with you, though, and it gives you an advantage. You manage to topple over, taking him with you. You land in a tangled heap on the huge bed, squirming under him.

“Stop it!” he says, sounding righteously pissed off. “Seriously?! What the fuck! I thought we were past this shit? What do you think you’re doing!”

“What are you doing?” You try shoving him to no avail. “Can’t you be normal for once—”

“Do you know what kind of danger you’re putting yourself in by going out alone at night, on a weekend, for fuck’s sake—”

This time when you shove him, he actually moves. He sits up with an aggravated huff, shoving his sleep-messed hair out of his face. You keep eye contact, an intense stare that fractures on his end, his gaze dropping when you suddenly pull your shirt off.

“Look at me,” you say. “You think the danger’s out there? What about the danger in here?”

He looks. He looks at the scar on your collarbone and the one on your stomach. You can’t tell if his morose expression is a reaction or just his frustration simmering.

“I don’t understand,” he finally says. “You have choices. It doesn’t have to be like this. Why do you intentionally—why do you keep—”

“What choices?” you ask. “Submission or else? How is that a choice?”

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asks. “Kicking at the bars just to see if they’re still there when you already know the answer?”

“See,” you say, smiling a bitter smile as you lay back, “you do understand me.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. He wears a big t-shirt and baggy shorts to sleep, the shape making him look even smaller than usual. Felix is skinny, despite his hidden strength, pretty and unassuming and too competent for his own good.

Your smile fades. You watch him rack his brain, his face a plainly written book to you just as much as you are to him.

“Where did you come from?” you ask. “Who were you? What happened to make you like this?”

His glance grazes your scars. He steps back, off the bed. He holds your gaze in his.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “I’ll tell you. I told you I will always be honest with you. So if you ask, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything and I won’t spare any details.”

Something in the tone of his voice makes you feel sick. You reach for your shirt and twist the fabric between your fingers.

“So?” you say, voice unsteady.

“So,” Felix says, “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ask me. Because if you do, I will be honest with you. I will always be honest with you. So ask me, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want,” you say. “I don’t think I know how to want something.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he says. He gives you no time to dwell on this, sharply adding, “Go get dressed for bed. It’s late. I won’t tell your father what happened. Just get back in bed. Good night.”

He pivots as swiftly as his tone, straight to the bathroom where he closes the door to give you privacy. It is also an implicit statement of trust, or maybe a statement of ability, that you could make for the window again but you wouldn’t get far.

You don’t think anywhere is far enough. You think you could scour the world and not find another person who understood you even half so well as Felix.

You are under the covers when he returns. He doesn’t say anything, just slips into bed and lays on his back. You feel small under the thick blanket in the huge bed, so much space between you that it feels like a tangible block, cold and cruel and solid. His eyes are open, not even pretending to sleep, but he stares up at the ceiling. He is shivering. He must feel the cold too.

You reach out slowly, your hand gliding across the blanket. It gives him ample time to notice, even with his mind so far away. His dark eyes flick down to that hand, suspended in the big open space between you. He stares at it for a long time, so long that sleep starts to creep into the corners of your vision. You float in a quiet, cool, half-waking world.

Then he takes your hand. You wake up. He looks at you across that chasm, your arms stretched between you, your hands clasped together. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes yours back.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #bodyguard au #skz imagines #stray kids imagines

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stgosupremacy · 10 months

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HI SO TODAY WE R GONNA ANALYSE EVERY OFFICIAL SATOGOU POSTER (ok i couldnt get my hands on them all but)🥰

heres the thing no one asked for

there's hearts. 💯❤

honestly pretty chill but THERES HEARTS-

ok so theres not much else going on here but this is rlly cute of a poster lmao of the boys all cosy and cute <33 and ash drinking this cool soda lol

pikachu looks so cute omggggg

(@skyecrystal pointed out this was released on valentines day hehe) 😏

MORE HEARTS MWAHAHAHHAHAHA ok but like all their pokemon are clearly routing for them (esp lucario look at him)

ALSO random but i love how it's gohs pokemon looking directy at the present in gohs hand lol like theyre just waiting for him to fess up....AND GOH DEFO GAVE THAT PRESENT TO ASH AFTER THE SHOOT 💖😊😊

ehhhhh 4 gays 1 picture, keep scrollinggg....

(theyre all literally like 2 inches apart bahhaa)

OK BUT IM SORRY HHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH WHY THE WEDDING SUITS LMFAOOOOOOOOOO 🤨

love how ash is just totally sweetly oblivious and just smiling...

...gary is just acting chill and cool as always...

and goh is....just blushing and is internally screaming we can tell ok

I LOVE THIS ONE SMM LOL LOOK AT MR MIME HE KNOWS BAHAHAHAHHA 😏😏

and goh l i t e r a l l y getting distracted by ash- look at him !! 💖🤨 so distracted in fact that the ICING IS COMING OUT THE PIPING BAGGGGGG UGHGHGHHGH

and then chloe just being adorable ofc awh lmao

ah then we have to appreciate sobble and pikachu looking down at their trainers like 'we know what you guys are' 🥰

iLOVEEEE this one but the ones to come knock it off the bar holy heck 😤-

they literally couldnt be any close in this BAHAHHAHA AWWHHH teyre so cute <33 and ash's arm around him 🥺 I love how are just squashed up together while iris has the spotlight but they happy ^^

wait but we have to appreciate iris tho- LOOK AT HERRRRRR 💜💜

so uhhh...

still speaking of iris, she's so cute feeding pikachu right omg <33 💜🥺

andddddddd as much as i love and adore iris i couldn't help but notice something elseeee....it's not even that obvious idk if yall saw but

ash is feeding him.

he is literally feeding him-

ANDGOHISBLUSHING

wow

also love goh's red socks theyre slayin

BUT ANYWAY gosh i love iris OBVS but everyone was like aww iris and pikachu cute aww-

LIKE HELLO?? have you seen this over here omg. the little cherry blossoms falling on them too (i cant help but notice some are shaped like hearts but they normally are anyway 🥰)

so yeah this one was defo anipoke being bold but uh

yall know which one is last 🙂🙂🙂

....

so i was like wow that is some REALLY good fanart dam-

BUT THEN

NO WAY THIS IS ACC REAL??????????????? NO IT RLLY IS OMG I LITERALLY CAN'T HOW IS THIS OFFICAL LMFAO look at them 😰

GOH IS FULL ON BLUSHING WITH ASH BEING PAINFULLY OBLIVIOUS AND WINKING????? AND THEN LOOK HOW FKN CLOSE THEY ARE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 🥰🥰🥰🥰 his cap is all squahed upwards bc of how close they are LMAO and ash is casually feeding himm...

again.

c'mon you can't tell me this isn't hinting at SOMETHING HERE 🙂🙂 WHOEVER IS DRAWING THESE OFFICIAL ARTS THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART <33

no like seriously combined with the gay shit from pokemon journeys they HAVE TO BE CANON LOL 🤩

THIS WAS SO FUN 😍 considering to tag this as satogou week 2023....which wasn't even my intention anyway but...HEY LETS DO IT!

#satogouweek2023 <3

(me considering if anyone is acc gonna read all of this 😀😀 )

#goh pokemon #ash ketchum #satogou #pokemon goh #pokemon anime #firstfriendshipping #ash x goh #pokemon journeys #anipoke #fatedencountershipping #journeyshipping #rant post #pokeani #official art #satogou week 2023

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flyingwargle · 2 months

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tuesdays are the twins’ designated day to spend together. they take turns visiting each other, either in osaka or hyogo, and this week is osamu’s turn to visit atsumu. he waits for his brother’s text to confirm where and when to pick him up, but falls asleep before it comes. when he wakes the next morning though, no new notifications greet him.

weird. there’s no way he could’ve forgotten, when this has been their routine for the last two years. osamu cooks breakfast, sips his morning coffee, reads the newspaper, keeps an ear out for his phone. it still doesn’t go off. he waits until noon, when he knows practice is over, and calls atsumu.

it goes to voicemail. what is that scrub doing? osamu opens his list of contacts, where he has a few of the jackals' numbers saved, acquainted with them after one too many spontaneous nights out at onigiri miya. he calls the one that’s most agreeable and slides the phone to his ear.

“hi, osamu-san!”

“hey, hinata. sorry ta bother ya, but d’ya know where my idiot brother is?”

“huh? aren’t you supposed to be with him?”

osamu frowns. “i mean, we usually have lunch together today, but that scrub never told me where ta go or where ta meet him, an’ he didn’t pick up when i called.”

“oh! we thought so,” hinata mumbles.

“what’s that supposed ta mean?”

“actually, atsumu-san collapsed during practice today. it turns out he’s sick. meian-san wanted to take him to the hospital, but atsumu-san said that you'll take care of him. we weren’t sure whether to believe him or not, but he left before we could do anything. one of our coaches drove him home, so he should still be there.”

dread trickles down his spine. collapsed during practice. that hadn’t happened since their last year in high school. what happened to cause this? “thanks, hinata. i better get my ass over there.”

“bokuto-san, omi-san, and i will stop by later! we just have to get through a meeting first.”

“take yer time. he ain’t goin’ anywhere.” osamu ends the call, swears under his breath, and flies into action. what the heck, ‘tsumu? what happened ta ya?

he cuts the half hour drive down to twenty minutes, pulling into the visitor stall of his brother’s apartment and taking two stairs at a time because the elevator is too slow. there’s no point in knocking; he pulls his keys out and inserts the correct one, pushing it open. “hey, scrub! are ya still alive?”

no answer. osamu closes the door, takes his shoes off beside his brother’s runners. the lights are off, dishes left in the sink, curtains pulled shut. he drops his bag on the couch and steps into the bedroom, where an atsumu-shaped bundle is huddled under the blankets. osamu tugs them aside.

atsumu gives him a weak glare. his nose is red, hair greasy with sweat. he’s still in his practice clothes, socks included. “what’re ya doin’ here?”

“ya didn’t pick up when i called, so i had ta learn from hinata that yer pathetic ass went ta practice while sick.” osamu tosses pajamas at him. “go change, unless ya want me ta drive ya ta the doctor.”

“it’s whatever. i just caught a cold.” atsumu struggles, so osamu helps him. he steps into the bathroom to wet a cloth, returning to run it over his forehead, his brother complaining. “i ain’t a child.”

“sure ya are. who goes ta practice when they’re sick? yer a pro now, ‘tsumu. ya can’t just not take care of yerself.” he fixes his blankets to tuck him in. “go sleep. i’ll make ya somethin’ ta eat.”

there isn’t much in the fridge, but luckily, osamu brought ingredients. atsumu has rice, at least, which he uses for porridge. while it simmers, he texts his manager to hold the fort down for him, and updates hinata that atsumu is, unfortunately, alive. when the porridge is ready, he brings a bowl to his brother.

atsumu is listless as he eats. osamu sits on the desk chair beside him, watches him eat every spoonful until the bowl is clean. he takes it back, leaves it on the desk. “so? what made ya overwork yerself?"

"it’s nothin’.”

“ya were always worse at hidin’ stuff between the two of us.” osamu taps his eyes, indicating his brother’s swollen eyelids. “what got ya cryin’ this time?”

his brother doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes on his lap. “d’ya ever feel like what ya do is enough?”

“i do. don’t ya?”

“no. i mean, most of the time, i do, but…”

osamu nods. “it gets ta ya, doesn’t it? i know.” they’re cut from the same cloth, after all. both of them continue to run, side by side, always striving to be the best, do all they can, haunted by the same question: is it enough? is there more that can be done? is it okay to stop?

it never is, when you’re competing to see who has a happier life, but if one twin needs to slow down, the other will be there to jog with them.

“i dunno, it just hit me like a tonna bricks. tobio-kun beat me in the rankings an’ as startin’ setter durin’ the olympics. yeah, the jackals got the championship win this season, but that’s after a long streak of losin’, of gettin’ so close, but not enough. an’ now…” atsumu lets out a breath. “ya just gotta do it all over again, an’ again.”

“ain’t that life, though?” osamu replies. “we’re adults now. we just gotta find the lil’ things in life ta make us happy, ta make it seem like what we do is enough. an’ that includes takin’ care of yerself so we can do the things we like.”

atsumu rolls his eyes, though it’s weak and drowsy. “ya didn’t hafta come.”

“an’ what? pretend yer all right when ya didn’t even reply ta me ‘bout today’s lunch plans?”

“oh. that was today?”

“yes, ya scrub. that’s why i’m here.” osamu punches his shoulder, light and exasperated. “an’ i’m gonna stay here ‘till ya feel better, so ya better get some sleep ta rest those eyes that are gonna see me fer a few days.”

“ew. thanks for the heads-up, i guess.” atsumu settles back on the bed, osamu pulling the blanket over him. just as he stands to leave, his brother’s drowsy murmur gives him pause. “thanks, ‘samu.”

“any time, ‘tsumu.” for all their bickering and teasing, they know they can be there for each other, no matter what.

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabble #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya twins #post timeskip #july hurt/comfort #auuuuugh i love the twins so much

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her-satanic-wiles · 1 year

Text

October 12th

Medical Play, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Medical play; GN!Reader; dom!Reader?; cringey Terzo; subby!Terzo; established relationship; latex kink?; glove kink; hand job; mild praise; anal fingering; taunting; mild degradation; mild humiliation; power kink; mild edging; cum eating; cumswap; reads like an 80s porno; awful medical terminology, I'm sorry to all the doctors and nurses reading this lmao;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The graveyard shift was always the worst - or rather, the slowest. As most of the Siblings were asleep in the dead of the night, you had free roam of the medical centre of the Ministry. Not that there was ever much to see given that it was hardly decorated and filled to the brim with medicine and multiple medical journals, all of which you’d perused on your off or slow hours.

Thankfully, your job was always made easier by the fact that no one in the Ministry was stupid enough to get themselves into a lot of trouble. Even during the day, the worst injury you’d seen was someone’s ritual or blood play wounds get infected, but thankfully it was easy enough to sort out. It was the most difficult thing, becoming a doctor and going through university - even getting a job within the Ministry itself was a difficult task. The job itself though - paid to read books mostly.

Though, it was different that night. Your socked feet were up on your desk and a book was in your lap. You were, of course, reading what your friends liked to call your “dirty girl books”, when there was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in!” You called. Immediately you brought your feet off the desk and put your bookmark in the book, hiding it from the view of your guest. You still didn’t want to appear unprofessional, even though there was no one around… well, almost no one.

The door opened to reveal a smaller man, black hair and wrinkles. You recognised him instantly. “Good morning, Papa.” You said, standing to your feet out of respect.

“Ah, hello, doctor. I hope I am not disturbing you while you are busy?” Terzo stood there in the doorway uncharacteristically awkward in his demeanour and make up chipping from his face. He looked tired.

You looked at the clock: four o’clock. It was so early. “I always have time for you, Papa. How can I help you?”

“Ah, it is a little embarrassing, doctor.”

“Whatever it is I’m here to help, judgment-free.”

This was the moment you’d been waiting for. The thing is - you weren’t Terzo’s personal physician. Given the nature of their job and the importance of their status, each of the Papas had their own personal physicians at their beck and call all times of the day and night. You weren’t part of that club, rather, dealing with the rest of the Ministry including the Ghouls and the Clergy. You may not have been Terzo’s physician, but you were his partner… so to speak. This whole arrangement had been set up and pre-decided weeks ago, and when he had time, he’d drop in to see you with some “medical emergency” and you would be the doctor to “treat him”. You would pretend not to know each other which was the most crucial part of the whole scene. So now you were just waiting for Terzo to say his next line, not that you knew what his next line was.

“Well you see, I am an old man. And my, how do you say? My dick is broken.”

This fucking guy.

“Okay, in what way?”

“It doesn’t stand for very long. It grows tired very quickly, like me. Or my fratello.”

Please don’t compare your penis to your brothers.

“R-right.” You blinked at him a few times, not quite expecting him to be so forthcoming with his “issue” - or even quite so chaotic. “Please come and take a seat on the bench for me.” He did as you instructed. “Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt, Papa?”

“Ah, doctor, that is the other thing. My fingers are tired today, too. I am afraid they can’t unbutton anything.”

Of course they can’t.

He looked at you and gave you the biggest shit-eating grin, clearly eating up his role. Despite knowing Terzo as intimately as you did for a number of years, he still managed to find ways to fluster you.

You moved forward, trying your best not to smile and keep it “professional”, but the excitement within him was simply radiating off of him and infecting you. He was, for lack of a better term, buzzing with it. Your fingers carefully began to unbutton his white shirt and avoiding his gaze, but you could feel it on you. His mischievous eyes studying you and your expression so intently you were sure it would leave a mark.

Once his incredibly hairy chest was completely exposed to you, you took the stethoscope from around your neck and set yourself up to use it. “This may be a little cold.” You warned before placing the bell over his heart. Of course, this wasn’t a real check up, so it didn’t matter what you heard. In fact, you were only doing this for his benefit because you knew he’d want it.

“Can you hear that, doctor?” He asked.

“There’s nothing unusual.”

“But my heart, you should hear that it beats only for you.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

It took everything in you not to blush or react to his words in any way. “Okay, I think we should do a few tests just to make sure everything’s okay. Would you mind removing your pants, Papa?”

You took a step back and allowed Terzo to stand from the bench and do as you’d asked. You looked away to feign privacy, despite the fact that you’d been up close and personal with that part of his body for a long while. But out the corner of your eye, you noticed that the little shit had decided to forgo underwear. How you were surprised was a mystery unto itself.

“You know, doctor, usually I buy ladies dinner before I let them undress me in their offices.” He teased.

“Usually ladies don’t examine you for erectile dysfunction.” You taunted back. “Are you ready, Papa?”

“Of course, doctor. I await your professional opinion.” He plonked himself back up on the bed and leant back confidently, completely exposing himself to you. He was enjoying this game a little too much for your liking. You began prepping your hands, first sanitizing them then putting latex gloves on to keep up appearances. When you moved back over to him, you noticed that his mismatched eyes were heavily trained on you, only moving when you did and fixating on your gloved hands. Time to bullshit your way through this. “To make sure you can maintain a healthy erection, we need to give you one first. Is this normally something you have a problem with?”

“Not at all. Usually my partner is able to get me up just by looking at me.”

You nodded. “So you won’t need any help from me today, then?”

“On the contrary, doctor. My partner is not here, and so I am having trouble. Please take care of me.”

He gave you the best doe eyes he could muster knowing that it would work on you because it usually did. And so, you nodded, and poured some of the office’s lubricant onto your hand. “This will be cold.” You warned him.

As soon as your lubed hand made contact he hissed and jumped, perhaps making more of a show of it than he ought to. Your hand began to work away at his flaccid length, which was filling up with blood a lot quicker than you anticipated. With each tight stroke of your hand, Terzo’s hips bucked slightly. He wasn’t quite ready or sensitive enough for it to feel mind-numbingly good, but the little breaths and whimpers he was releasing was proof enough that it was working. One of his own gloved hands came up to your arm and gripped onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. The other hand grasped onto the bench with as much force as he could.

You tightened your grip and began focusing entirely on the head of his cock, making sure he was feeling as much pleasure as possible. The feeling of the lubed latex on his head had his mind reeling. His eyes were tightly shut, his bottom lip had been taken into his mouth and trapped between his teeth. He was trying so hard to keep up the pretense but he was obviously feeling good. You decided to be a bitch. “Tell me, Papa, what do you usually do to keep the erection?”

“What?” He asked, opening his eyes and coming to his senses.

“Well, this is a new problem, isn’t it? What usually works? What usually feels good?”

Terzo, whom you had never seen so flustered before, gulped and took in a sharp inhale before continuing. “M-my partner usually uses their mouth.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where does their mouth go?”

“M-my cock and sometimes my a-asshole.”

You moved your other hand to his taint and then to the rim of his hole. “Here?”

“Yes! Merda! There!”

Then, all of a sudden, you removed all of your hands and took a step back. “You seem to be healthy, Papa. I think maybe you’re just stressed.”

His eyes were wide and he couldn’t quite believe you’d done that. “What?”

“Lack of sleep can also be a cause of dysfunction. Do you get enough sleep?”

“Yes. Doctor, I- I am confused.”

“What with?”

“Well, I… you… stopped.”

“Of course, Papa. You needed help maintaining an erection, we’ve since discovered that you don’t struggle with that regularly, and you’re certainly not now.”

“You can’t just leave me like this.” He gestured to his now angrily erect cock before muttering something in Italian, clearly irritated by you.

“Maybe if you were to ask nicely, I might help you out.”

Terzo hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to either be so desperate that he begs for it, but also being to embarrassed to say anything. He was perhaps the filthiest person you knew, never shy or bashful, but apparently when his partner had the upper hand he was a total mess.

“Per favore.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Will you… help me out?”

“Sure, what with?”

“Porca puttana! Make me cum… please, Doctor.”

He almost forgot himself.

You stood and sauntered back over to him applying more lube to your gloved hand as you passed that shelf. “Good boy.” You told him with a teasing smile, wrapping his cock back up in your hand and continuing exactly where you left off. “Nothing wrong with you now, is there? You’re keeping it up well enough, aren’t you?”

The same hand that was gripping onto the bed had moved up onto your shoulder, a gorilla grip on it. His eyes were open but focused on the wall, glazed over a little in the sheer pleasure your hand was providing. Your other hand went straight back to the rim and began rubbing over it again. His noises got louder when you did, hips having a mind of their own. The position wasn’t great so you got him to sit back, keeping him width-ways on the bench with his cheeks on the edge and his feet propped up and legs spread. You cursed your boss for giving you the wrong chair to use for today, what you would have killed to use the gynecology chair with the stirrups. It would have humiliated him so much to be so exposed. He would have loved it. Though he looked like such a whore in this position, you thought perhaps this was more humiliating.

With more lube on your hands, one went back to his head, and the other started pushing inside his hole. His mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’ and his brow furrowed, the pleasure almost overwhelming him. “We do have to make sure all parts of you are working correctly, hm? Especially this nice little button in here.”

“Cazzo!”

Only your pinkie was inside him at the moment. You didn’t want to hurt him and as he hadn’t pre-stretched himself out, you thought it was best to take your time. You wiggled it around a little, trying to make his hole fit two of your better, and kept at it until he was lose enough. Eventually, your index and middle fingers were able to fit inside him, and so you went in search of that button you mentioned. “Touch your cock for me.” You instructed. Like the obedient whore he was today, he did as you asked, wrapping his own hand around the head and moving quickly. “Ah-ah.” You scolded. “Slow down.”

“But-”

“Slow!”

His hand gradually put the breaks on, dropping to an almost torturous level. You could see how much it pained him. Given the fluttering of his hole around your two fingers, you could tell he was already too close. He was too overwhelmed. He needed that sweet release that you were refusing to give him. Why? Why wouldn’t you just make him cum? Why would you drag it out as much as you did? He couldn’t fathom it. But he was so desperate to finish he couldn’t ask you to stop.

This was a completely different man in front of you. The head of the Satanic Church was riding your fingers in your office as if he didn’t hold all of the power. Because right now he didn’t. You did. In his desperate need to cum, he was obeying your orders down to the letter. He was whining and writhing for you and only you. No one else got to see him like this: his entire body on fire and chasing a release he’d practically been begging for since he entered the medical ward, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth where it had opened so wide, and loud moans were spilling out with it. His pants completely removed and his white shirt unbuttoned completely. He was positively sinful right now - a proper Babylonian whore giving himself to another for his own pleasure. And oh how he sang for you when you reached that spot. How he stopped breathing when you finally hit it. How expletives poured from his lips to cope with the devastating bliss your fingers were giving him. Choruses of “yes!” and “right there!” and “don’t stop!” providing him comfort while you had your way with him. His own hand matched yours and as you got faster, so did he. He was so close. He could almost taste the sweet release that was on its way to him.

It was when your hands came up to play with his balls he finally tipped over the edge. Cum spurted from his cock and pooled over his hairy stomach, and even reaching up his chest in the intensity of the orgasm he was experiencing. His toes curled and his body seized up. You were, the whole time, talking him through it. “That’s it,” you told him, “give it all to me, Papa. Give me everything. Such a good boy.”

When you were sure he was fine, you gently removed yourself from inside him and bent forward, your tongue running through his spend and lapping it up into your mouth, keeping it there. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were ablaze with something. More lust? Frustration that you were doing something so sexy and he was too tired to do anything about it? You weren’t entirely sure. But the moan he released when you kissed him, swapping his cum from your mouth to his was enough to tell you all was forgiven… at least for now.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

The Smoke Detector | Firefighter Bradley Bradshaw

your cooking skills fail you again, and your nosey neighbour has to intervene

wc: 0.75k

masterlist | requests form

…

“Shit, shit!” You frown, dropping the charcoaled oven tray down onto the stove and trying to waft the smoke away from your face. Right away, you know you’ve got ninety seconds. It’s night time, but the standard remains the same. Roll-out in under ninety seconds.

You know he’s home from the Led Zepplin carrying through the walls. He’s three units down but he isn’t home all the time and he likes to make the most of the privacy when he is.

In an ultimate act of betrayal, your fire alarm begins to wail over your head. Slamming the oven shut, abandoning the cremated mac and cheese as you clamber up onto the countertop unsteadily. You try to tame your hair at the same time as the wailing, pulling your hood up instead. It’s a good thing that today was one of those random days you had decided to wear pants whilst relaxing.

You tug at the fire alarm, disconnecting it unceremoniously and letting it hang free as you struggle to pry the battery out of it.

“Everything okay in there?” Followed by three knocks on the door, then him trying the door handle. You close your eyes, bracing yourself to be lectured as he steps into your apartment and closes the door behind him.

Wearing a navy-coloured San Diego Fire Department shirt, gym shorts and no shoes, he stares at you from your doorway.

This isn’t the first time he has let himself into your apartment. He’s two units up, and it seems that helping you move in during that mid-august heatwave a couple of months ago came with a catch. He’s like a stray cat that you made the mistake of feeding.

But, compared to that time that you had slipped and dislocated your shoulder in the shower, you aren’t too upset with him for wandering in now.

Stern, he frowns at you, “Were you about to take the battery out of that?”

“It’s still breaking and entering, even if I know who you are, you know.” You answer him from your countertop, eyes narrowed incredulously. This is becoming embarrassing. Trying to cook something a little more ambitious, and crashing and burning. Quite literally.

“Just doing my job,” Rooster’s eyes land on the oven dish resting on your stove and he walks forwards as the alarm wails on. He calmly switches the oven off and peers down at the blackened pasta noodles and dissipated sauce. As he looks up at you, unimpressed, you silently wait for the ground to swallow you whole. “Hop down. I’ve got it.”

You tug your hoodie down a little more, shifting uncomfortably in your pink, fluffy socks. “I’ve got it.” You insist.

“Not if you were about to take the battery out, you don’t. There’s a reset button right next to your hand.” His hand comes to rest on your ankle as he looks up at the fire alarm above your head. Huh. There it is. That little red, plastic button that you had been clawing around to try to pry the battery from.

You press it and the wailing immediately stops. Which, honestly, just makes everything worse. His lips quirk into a soft smile as his eyes dart back to the cremated Mac and cheese, then to you again.

“Don’t start.” You groan.

He just chuckles and shakes his head, “Look, I prefer it a little crispy too, but um…”

“Shut up, I was reading and I forgot about it.” You tell him, lowering yourself down to sit on the countertop instead. Immediately, his face changes. Brows furrowed in concern, you feel like a middle schooler in a safety assembly before he has even had a chance to open his mouth.

“You should really—“ By the look on his face, he can tell that you don’t need a lecture from him. His warm hand squeezes softly at your knee, almost apologetic. “Well, are you hungry? — I was making pasta, there’s plenty if you want some.”

“No, I couldn’t— I’ll just—“

“No, seriously, I can’t portion control spaghetti to save my life, I’ll be having leftovers for a week if you don’t have some.” He steps closer, bracketing you between him and the counter without meaning to. “And besides, I’m not going to relax if I think you’re in here trying to cook something else.”

Your lips quirk slightly, giving a small shrug of your shoulders. The sheepish little nod that you give him is more than enough for now. He’s certain that it’ll be an enthusiastic yes after you taste his cooking.

…

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #firefighter!rooster #firefighter!bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradsaw x reader

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darlingshane · 1 year

Text

mountain lion

Matt Rayburn x F!Reader

Summary: After a bad day at work, you're winding down in bed when you get an unexpected visit.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Fluff, Smut, Making Out, Vaginal Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Food, Pet Names.

Word Count: 1,5k

A/N: A little thing I wrote for✨BEARDTHAL BASH✨

— Read below or at AO3.

Wrapped in the comfort of your cozy blanket in bed with the lights off, curtains drawn; the blue light of your phone illuminates your face while you mindlessly scroll through your usual apps to erase the awful day you've had at work from your mind.

It's almost midnight when a strange thud coming from the living room makes you jolt from your resting position. As you sit up, you put your phone down, keenly hearing the sharp whistling of the wind as if it was sneaking through a small crack of a window. It’s followed by the distinctive sound of muffled steps over a rug, and another cracking sound that makes your heart pound faster.

Wondering if you’d left a window open earlier, you quietly stand up and slide the door of your closet to collect a baseball bat, just in case. Wielding the bat with both hands, you use your foot to carefully open the door to your room. There's a barely audible screeching from the hinges that make you stop in your tracks for a moment before stepping into the hallway.

As the anxious throbbing of your pulse rises to your throat, you don't turn on the light but use the dim lights of the porch that glare through the front windows to guide you toward the living room. Mustering as much courage as you can and measuring your steps along the hallway, when you reach the end of it, you find a slouched, bulky shadow behind the couch.

Tightening your grip around your weapon, you swallow and get ready to swing hard. As you throw the bat back, the shadow turns its face to the side, and at the very last second you realize that it’s your boyfriend squatting down, his hands busy with something you can’t see on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, Matt! What the hell are you doing there?” you chide, lowering the bat.

“Giving you a heart attack, apparently. Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were a mountain lion or something. I almost club you to death. Did you use the window to break in?” You go around him, put the bat down, turn on the light, and shut the ineffective window’s latch.

“Forgot my keys.”

“Then knock or text like a normal person. Don’t use a window as an entryway.” You glance down now that you can see better, and find that he’s untying his boots and taking them off.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Baby. I wanted to surprise you, but…” he trails off, standing up in his funny socks with monkeys. “You should fix that latch, by the way. It’s dangerous to leave it like that.”

“Yeah, tell that to the knucklehead of my boyfriend,” you scoff under a heavy breath. “I’ve been meaning to fix it, but I didn’t have time today. What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you have work tonight?”

“Shift change. Thought you could use a little pick-me-up,” his hands land on your hips, and through the thin fabric of your shirt you capture the cold of his palms as he pulls you closer. His lips, just as cold, print a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Oh, I need a big pick-me-up, alright.”

“Well, you’re in luck, cause this big mountain lion brought you something,” Matt extends his hand to the couch and picks up a box filled with donuts from your favorite bakery. “But if that’s not enough… I do have another big pick-me-up.”

“Don’t you mean big prick-me-up?”

“See? You’re feeling better already now that I'm here.”

“Yeah, after I almost killed you.”

“C'mere, Sugarbutt,” he sits on the couch, leaves the box open on the coffee table, and pulls you down onto his lap.

Draping your bare legs sideways over his thighs, you lick your lips and reach to pick a mouth-watering chocolate donut covered in sprinkles from the box.

One of his palms glides up your thigh, making your skin rise into goosebumps as you take your first bite. Then you hold the donut up to his mouth and Matt takes a big chunk of it, licking your fingers in the process.

You burst into laughter, seeing how some of those rainbow sprinkles stick to his beard.

“What?”

“Nothing. You look adorable,” you keep chuckling, picking them one by one from his hairs.

“I love seeing you laugh like that,” he squeezes your hip delicately. “I was worried after our little conversation earlier… Do you wanna talk more about it?”

Your expression changes with a small shake of your head, resigned, “there's no point. I'm just glad you're here. I've missed you.”

“Missed you too, Baby.”

With a tender smile on his face, teeth pressed on his bottom lip, Matt watches you finish your snack with delight. Soon after, he seals your lips and claims the sweet aftertaste of your kiss. The hairs of his beard are coarse around your mouth as his tongue slots between your teeth. The tip of his tongue gently dances with yours, slowly wishing your troubles away, swirl after swirl. Matt has that power. Just being around him makes you feel ten times better. And on days like this, you're beyond grateful that he's part of your life.

Your craving fully switches from sweet to spicy as your mouth demands more of him. You shift on his lap and straddle his hips, using the advantage of that position to rub yourself against him.

Grabbing your ass, his fingers are already warm when they sink into your skin as you earn a good swelling behind his jeans, and a deep hum of his throat that tastes awfully divine in the void for your mouth.

“I'm ready for my big pick-me-up,” you gasp for air after pulling away from his lips. “Bedroom.”

Your boyfriend doesn't think twice before lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you back to the warmth nest of your bed.

He quickly rids himself of his clothes as you remove your panties and t-shirt and slip with him underneath the covers.

Laying on your side, facing each other, your mouths automatically are drawn together again, like opposite magnetic poles. His arms cocoon your body, keeping your skin flushed and warm against his chest. The light feather touch of his fingertips on your back makes you shudder. A nice buzz takes over your body as one of his hands slides between your legs. He caresses your mound using his whole palm for a long moment before letting his fingers focus on your clit. He collects the arousal pooling in your folds, using that slickness to trace circles around that hard little bud.

You can't help but hum in delight at his wonderful touch.

Enjoying yourself, in return, you wrap your hand around his length and pump leisurely, matching the eager excitement coming ablaze in your core. The higher he takes you, the more oomph you put into your hand.

When his fingers are fully coated in your juices, two of them invite themselves into your opening.

“Damn, sweetheart. You're fucking soaked,” Matt purrs and with a twirl of your tongue you lick-clean those dirty words from his luscious lips, as your grip tightens around his firm shaft.

In and out, he explores the tenderness of your walls for a minute, driving you slowly out of your mind, while your hand feasts on the more-than-generous size of his erection.

“Matt,” you sigh and moan as the temperature rises beneath the sheets.

“I got you, sweetheart,” his fingers pull away and lift your leg, tucking it over his hips, so he can feel that heat around his cock. You let him go at the same time, hug his torso instead, as he guides himself inside you.

Laced around the other in the most intricate but comfortable knot, you lose track of where your limbs start and where his end. Matt is all kisses and nibbles and fingers and beard scratches all around your skin as his hips roll slow, basking in the slickness and pressure of your opening.

You mark your teeth on the flesh of his shoulder and groan as your core reaches the surface of that maddening, crucial point. All your muscles seize up at the threat of orgasm when his thrusting comes sharper and quicker. You can feel the throb of his hard-rock erection, desperate for a release.

One of his hands clutches the curve of your ass, keeping your hips in place, so he can tip you over that sweet edge in that final effort. You can't hear yourself think, or have any thought at all, over his grunts and the muffle sounds of his skin slapping against yours over and over. Chasing that thrill, you give yourself complete to your body's urgent need for orgasm. The next second, a wild wave of pleasure seeps through every pore of your body, touching every nerve, making your legs tremble as Matt pours his seed in the depths of you at the same time.

You both stay still, woven in that position, as your breathing recovers.

One of his hands finds your face, frames your chin when his strength returns. “I love you, baby,” he whispers at the corner of your mouth before capturing your kiss oh so deliciously slow, it makes your heart swell ten times its size.

“Love you too, mountain lion.”

#matt rayburn x reader #jon bernthal #matt rayburn #wind river #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #fanfiction #fluff #smut #darlingwrites #beardthalbash

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thegildedbee · 4 months

Text

Do-Over: May 20 Prompt from @calaisreno

Program Note: Since there are a bunch of these posties, I've also stuck them onto my ao3 site since that's easier than my going back through tumblr later if I end up trying to make them grow up into a real fic :-) You can also find them at the May 2024 Prompts collection, in the company of multitudes of breathtakingly creative ficsters and their fics to read and treasure, organized by @calaisreno -- what a maestro they are, with setting in motion this whole fantabulous outpouring of mayday-mayhem and orchestrating it all month long, amirite? Yes, I am! :-) ........................................................................... “Really? Really? I can’t even open a goddamn email message without getting knocked about and run over and pissed on,” John fumes, trapped in a fight-or-flight reaction that is equal parts fight and equal parts flight, making his head feel like it’s going to explode. He throws his coffee cup against the wall, and his only regret is that the effort does nothing in terms of relieving any of the pressure. “Of course it doesn’t,” he says through clenched teeth.

The last weeks have been an agony. The first weekend in February had ushered in heavy rains and sharp winds, which had him making his way across London while dragging his boots through grimy slush that inevitably trickled its way inside his socks in icy rivulets. He landed on his arse at one point while crossing the road, which annoyed the already angry drivers who leaned on their horns as they skidded around him.

He’d stayed inside for the next four days, until the sun appeared for a brief flirtation with the city before being swallowed up by the charcoal ash-smudged clouds once again.

He knows, obviously, that one month out from Sherlock’s funeral, that it's still early days for being able to have any sort of balance inside, but still, he hadn’t thought that there were bottoms below the bottoms to which he’d already plummeted. But whether he acknowledges it forthrightly or not, part of what is driving his internal fury is the incessant advertising for Valentine’s Day. It makes him want to take his gun and shoot a skull and crossbones into the nearest brick wall.

Staring at the mess of ceramic shards and wild splatters of coffee, he puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head. “You need to get it out, John,” he spits out in a whiny, imitative falsetto. “Say it now, John. Say what you didn’t say.”

There was the huge British Airways billboard, of a blue sky with a white fluffy cloud in the shape of a heart, with a jet and its contrail slicing through it like a cupid’s arrow:

“London to Singapore: This Valentine’s Day, Say it With an Escape Voucher.”

Escape. Right.

There was the Twitter campaign on the Underground, with large mock-ups of sarcastic dating tweets, like:

*finds a soulmate.* *swipes left in hope of finding a hotter soulmate.*

The mass text message from Angelo’s, advertising the Valentine’s Day prix fixe dinner:

“Eat with Your Heart.”

Today, though. Could this be any more ludicrous? It was nothing but a mundane email message, to be sent to the trash in a trice. But.

It was one of those emails, where the writer puts an inspirational quote underneath their signature.

“There are no do-overs, but there are second chances.”

Oh, yes, he was feeling so uplifted, now. So appreciative of the earnest guidance. So motivated to become more self-aware.

" . . . there are second chances."

Like hell there are.

He hears the sound of the door opening, and of his sister bustling into the vestibule, chattering and gesticulating her way toward the kitchen with her usual noise and bluster.

"Hey, Johnny? You home?” she asks, as she rounds the corner, stopping short at the sight of the smoldering vibrations he's giving off. “Oh. There you are. What happened?”

John shakes his head, giving her a sardonic smile. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The mug just jumped right out of my hand and ran into the wall.”

She looks at him sideways, immediately aware from his tone that something is clearly gravely amiss, that the shattered cup is just the tip of something harsher. Although, when wasn’t he finding something amiss? It's been a never-ending rotation of anger, depression, anger, depression, anger, depression.

“I picked up some groceries," she says, cautiously. "There’s some of that ice cream you like. Also fruit and veg if you’re going to take a stab at fighting off the scurvy you've got coming on.”

John walks into the kitchen, his demeanor collapsing from rage to stoicism. “Hey. Let me help.”

“Sure, thanks, Johnny. Oh, I wanted to ask you for a favor – it’s a bit daft, but I thought I’d just give it a shot."

“Okay.”

“Trina wants to go to a film on Valentine’s Day. Would it be possible for you to watch her two kids for a few hours at her place?”

John stares at her in disbelief, pulling back his neck and peering at her with skepticism.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah," she says, hurriedly. "I see that’s going over real well. Never mind.”

John shakes his head. "Harry, it's just that I have no idea if I can be in charge of someone's kids right now. I imagine I could, but it’s not exactly in my wheelhouse. I mean, safety first, with kids, and I'm not in the best head."

Harry brushes her shoulder against his, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you serious? Can you handle kids? What about living with Sherlock – you said it was like running a day nursery sometimes. And you kept him out of trouble just fine, kept him in one piece -- ”

Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, Johnny, oh no, I didn’t think, I just let my mouth run on.” She looks at him standing there, rigid except for a slow inhale, and a scary length of time holding his breath, until he finally begins to let it escape in stingy exhalations. She tries to explain, with, “It’s just, you know, you always said it was like managing a child at times" -- and his expression is really alarming her now -- "oh no, never mind, I will shut up. Right now. I'm so sorry."

John says nothing. He turns his head to the side and looks behind him; looks above him; looks at Harry; looks down at his feet; clenches his hands; unclenches his hands; clenches his hands again; starts to say something; stops; shakes his head; looks at Harry again; rolls his eyes; and throws up his hands.

“That’s it. Harry, this isn't because of the last few moments, it’s just I'm at the end of my rope after a very bad few weeks. Look. I just need to get out of here. I'm going to go away for a few days. I appreciate what you're doing for me, and for being able to be here, but just for now, I need to get away."

“Okay, John," she says, placatingly, contrite. "I’m sorry, I really –” she stops when he holds up his hand.

“Not the issue, Harry. Truly.”

“But where are you going to go? Are you going to be okay?” she says urgently, worried about this sudden turn of events, and what it might mean.

“I don’t know," John says plainly, shrugging his shoulders. "I may just go to the train station and throw a dart at the departures board. But, look, I’m going to grab a few things and then I’ll be off. Best have me out the way for yourself as well.”

Not stopping to double-guess himself or to have to explain himself further, John jogs over to his room and hastily grabs at the first few things he sees that he might need, stuffs them into his rucksack, puts on his heavy coat, and gives Harry a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll let you know where I land.”

"Promise, Johnny?”

“Promise.”

John practically runs out the door, feeling like he's flying apart, and wanting to get outside and to start moving toward something, somewhere, even if it’s just pretend. He loves London, he does. So much, but he's been so many places around the city with Sherlock for so many different reasons, it’s an atlas of emotion that he is always aware of. To be honest, he also doesn’t want to leave London right now, for the same reason; London means Sherlock, and he wants to hold on to as much of him as he can right now.

Fight or flight.

He wonders: should he visit Sherlock's grave? Would that help him shake some of this? No, the gravesite is an ending, and he doesn’t want to be reminded of endings, of feeling like he's being ground into the pavement by a merciless force.

Some place that is a memory of beginnings? Bart’s is out, he says to himself with a harsh chuckle. Not 221B.

Where then?

He thinks back to those first days, and pulls up his general knowledge of London transport and pleads with it to find him an answer.

Paddington, it says. Paddington? Ah, he knows this. All right, then: Paddington.

He’s going to Cardiff.

........................................................

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

.............................................................................

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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dollfaceksj · 1 year

Note

AHHH i can’t wait for #20!! will we get to see the date?

read and find out! <3

sooo since it’s my bday today (jk bday twin 🤭😋) this is a little rushed and very short! but i still wanted to update so i hope u guys like it <3

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #20

masterlist

<- previous ; next ->

you didn’t exactly speak to jungkook again for the rest of the train ride

and you kinda also didn’t remove him as a follower

🫨🫨🫨

so now you’re just. alone

in a booth

listening to music

doesn’t matter tbh

when you’ve arrived, you hop out the carriage

you separate from the others

and go home without another word

upon arriving home, you take the longest bath you’ve ever had

exfoliate

wax

take care of your skin

just everything

you put on your cute pajamas and crawl into your bed

and waste your entire day lying in bed

you get a text

from: tae tae

‘What you up to?’

from: you

‘nothing. watching tv alone’

from: tae tae

‘I’m bored. Can I come over’

from: you

‘sure’

you sit up straight in your bed and rub your eyes

hmm

tae doesn’t live that far so

he’ll be here soon

you make your couch a bit cozier with blankets and place some snacks on your table

after some time passes

your doorbell rings

you make your way to the front door and swing it open

“you need some more friends, taehyung,” you say as you put some of your shoes away to leave space for his

“i agree, he should.”

you look up

from your kneeling position

to make eye contact

with the devil himself

he stares you down from up there with hooded eyes

“where’s taehyung?”

he shrugs his shoulders. “i took his phone to text you. i know you would ignore me if i tried to dm you.”

he’s unbelievable

“why are you here?” you ask as you rise to your feet

he tilts his head to the side. “i still owe you.”

you frown

what does this damn junior want?

he needs!! to leave!! you alone!!

“and what exactly do you owe me?”

“an orgasm.”

the air knocks right out of your lungs

you shake your head. “i already told you. it was the last time.”

“i know but technically, you didn’t finish.”

UGH

you hate him.

you sigh quietly. “that’s okay. i don’t mind.”

“i do.”

for fucks sakeeeee

“you gonna let me make you cum? one last time?”

he closes the distance between you two, staring down at you with a neutral expression on his face

he’s not trying to convince you

it just seems like he actually takes this ‘favor’ seriously

“jungkook,” you sigh

“i swear i won’t bother you anymore.”

ugh

and now you’re reminded of everything tae told you

you wrap your fingers around his forearm and gently tug him further into your apartment

you quietly close the door. “you’re not bothering me, jungkook.”

he just stares at you, letting you speak

“but weren’t you supposed to hang with isabella today?”

a smirk creeps on his lips. “keeping tabs on my life?”

you scoff, “you wish. i just overheard you two talking.”

he hums as he kicks his shoes off and walks further into your apartment

DAMN JUNIOR

“so. you prepared this for me?” he nods towards the cozy couch and snacks on the table, picking one can of pringles up

“i prepared it for taehyung.” you snatch the pringles can out of his hands

he chuckles. “well, you put in all this effort. it’d be a shame if it went to waste.” he turns to face you fully

you look up at him and cross your arms

his eyes drop down your pajamas, taking note of your cute pajama set and fuzzy socks.

he quietly mumbles, “cute,” with a small smile.

your cheeks heat up and you turn away from him, heading towards the couch

“well, i guess you’re right but only because i don’t want my efforts to go to waste.” you plop down and sit down with your legs criss cross apple sauce

he takes his sweater off, revealing his plain black shirt as he goes to sit down next to you

you reach for the remote and start going through the available movies

he sinks comfortably into your couch, draping one arm behind your head on the backrest of the couch

you ask him if he’s seen some of these and he tells you that he’s actually not a big movie fan and prefers shows

preferably mystery and/or thriller

you nod your head, agreeing with what he’s saying

so you both agree on watching sherlock

and you have a lot of fun

watching it with him

2 hours into the marathon

you glance over at jungkook

and

he’s dozing off :(

you don’t know why

but it makes you feel some type of way

did he use the excuse of having sex to come here? just to hang out with you?

you just

start feeling guilty

you move closer to him and shake his arm

he quickly blinks and awakes, looking around. “oh, i’m sorry. didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

you shake your head. “it’s okay.”

he slowly sits up and stretches his arms. “so have you thought about it?”

you frown as you glance at him, pausing the show with one hand on the remote. “what?”

“letting me make you cum.”

….

you ask, “you’re serious about that?”

he nods his head like you just asked him about the weather and he knows the answers

“you don’t have to do that. if you wanted to get your dick wet, you should’ve let isabella come over. why come to me?”

at this, he frowns. like he’s genuinely confused

“because we didn’t get to finish last time. why are you bringing up isabella?” his frown almost stings you

you try to appear nonchalant and casual. “because it seems like she’s down for whatever. or not?”

he chuckles but there’s no humor behind it. “are you jealous?”

“now, why the fuck would i be jealous, jungkook?” you rise to your feet and gather the empty cartons and cans of snacks and drinks

“i don’t know, pretty. you just sound kinda jealous.”

you hear the smugness in his voice even when you’re all the way in the kitchen, throwing out the plastic and cartons

“don’t call me that,” you mumble as you start folding one of the blankets

he gets up and closes the gap between you, pressing his chest into your back

“what? you don’t like being called pretty?” he jokes, pestering you as he stays glued to your body with each move you make

he adds, “you definitely loved it when you were getting fucked, though.”

UGHHHH

can he just

GET LOST!!!!

the longer he’s here

the more your resolve crumbles

the longer you’re in his proximity

the more you want to take him up on his offer

you want to help him

you do

like tae said

but

is it worth it when it makes everything worse for you?

you can’t fucking stop thinking about him

and your body heats up whenever he’s near

you turn to face him. “you,” you start, “you’re not good for me.”

his expression falters. “what do you mean?”

you shrug your shoulders. “you’re like poison, jungkook. i don’t know what’s going on.”

he stares at you dumbfounded. “i’m so confused.”

“ugh!” you throw the blanket on your couch. “i spend one– ONE night with you in a tent, next thing i know, i’m having sex with you in the back of someone else’s car and letting you fuck me in a dirty tent while our friends are asleep.”

you swallow thickly before you mumble under your breath, “a guy like you should wear a warning.”

he silently stares at you for a moment before he crosses his arms over his chest. “well, i do. you’re the one that started coming onto me after tae warned you.”

you almost choke on air cause he’s right. “that has nothing to do with this.”

your body is starting to heat up

his serious expression…

hes so fucking hot wow

he steps even closer to you. “it has everything to do with it. just admit that you wanted me and stop acting like i did something underhanded so that i could fuck you. you know damn well you wanted me to fuck you as bad as i wanted to fuck you.”

a lump starts forming in your throat

he has you all figured out

but he’s not finished. “so quit acting like the bigger person.”

fuck

fuck fuckfuck

fuck you want him

you want him so bad

he adds, “you keep pouting at me like that and i’ll have no choice but to kiss you.”

fuck

the words leave your mouth without you even realizing. “then kiss me already.”

fuck

why did YOU

SAY THAT

he wastes no time lunging at you, cupping your face as he kisses you with so much fervor it sets your body ablaze

you let him walk you back to the couch before he sits down and pulls you onto his lap

you don’t hesitate for a second when you climb onto his lap

kissing him with equal amounts of fervor

tongues forcing their way into each others mouths

the not-so-innocent grinding

soft moaning

heavy breathing

fuck, you want him

you need him

his hands grip your hips, fingers draping over the swell of your ass

the more you grind your hips into him, the harsher his grip on your hips

until he starts spanking you

making you moan into his mouth

fuck he’s making it so hard for you to be the better person

is one last time really that bad?

but.. will it really be the last time if you don’t put a stop to it now?

you know if you accept, you’ll always just fall straight into his trap

and ‘a last time’ will never really be a last time

declining right now would help him in the long run, you could build that bond with jungkook that tae was talking about

so what will it be

toxic frenemies with benefits (ACCEPT)

healthy friendship and no more lying to tae (DECLINE)

to be continued

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bloodycherry22 · 2 years

Text

Mistake | Rick Grimes

Genre: smut

Summary: The relationship between both you and Rick is negative, banter that is took too far, like frenemies. When Rick comes home injured, anger sparks and you decide to apologise by cleaning him up, he has another reward in mind ;)

Warnings: Dumbification, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), cussing, blood, mention of injury, fingering, little bit of praise.

Not proofread

It was quiet, too quiet. Too calm and safe, Alexandria, a place full of pussies, as Daryl would say. You should appreciate it, but its hard to..being stuck in a home with a man you hate, being one of the only single people left in the group, you had to fill the gap in the household, it was fine caring for Carl and Judith, but being so close to Rick, no.

His annoying voice, that painfully soothed you and his mannerisms, how he holds himself so well, how he walks with pride, it was like your body didn't know how to respond, pure hatred or pure want due to probable daddy issues..who knows. Either way, living with the man wasn't fun, he hated the way you got on so well with his kids and how well you helped around the house, how skilled you were with walkers. Everyone seemed to grow sick of the constant bickering, seemingly why you now live in a house alone with him and his kids.. and well Carl often takes Judith out during the day.

However, Rick was on a run as of right now, god knows when he would get back, so here you are, alone, reading a book on the plush couch, decorated in carefully crafted pillows and blankets. You could only see the shine of the clean hardwood floors, the fluffy socks on your feet making it impossible to feel discomfort of the hard flooring, yet you did, feel the discomfort that is. In an apocalyptic world, most grew to find comfort in the uncomfortable, everything was too perfect, after a while, an actual prison can begin to feel like home, yet this house just didn't.

You were knocked out of your nihilistic thought, the sound of the front door opening rang through your ears, recognising it to be rick by the sounds of his heavy boots and belt moving with a rhythmic metal sound. He didn’t announce himself but he didn’t need to, his presence was clear to you. "Finally home? Another useless trip or did you actually accomplish something today?" you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the book.

He just muttered something under his breathe in response, he stood somewhere behind you, the sound of him taking his jacket off present. "hey i may as well go pour the gas out into the river, cuz you know..that's basically what your doing with all these drives..or maybe i should go shoot a brick wall-"

"Fucking- just, not now..godamnit y/n, i'm sick of whatever this is"

"anger, rudeness, teasing..there are many words you can use rick, or is your brain decaying from being around all these mindless wimps all day-"

"y/n! god, i said enough!" He snapped and only then did you look up and meet his gaze, his tired gaze. He was a mess, covered in dirt, blood splattered all over his clothes and face, a few cuts on his face and hands. Guilt flew through you as you placed your book down on the coffee table. Tiptoeing over to him, you placed a hand on his bicep as you mumbled apologies, a newfound sympathy. He went to push you away, but held back, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"shit, i just wanted to come home to peace..but i can't, your constant teasing, its like we pick fights with each other, its pathetic!" he raised his voice, it was unclear if he was angry at just you..or both of you, either way, it wasn't nice.

"Rick, look..I'll leave you be tonight, k? Or just for a little while, seems like you need a break" you swiped your thumb over his arm and he looked at you, his blue eyes deep. "I'd say go relax and take a shower but the waters off while they fix something"

"Are y'kidding? Just my fucking luck, I need to clean myself up" He groaned, tipping his head back. Chewing on your lip, you smiled, light bulb moment. You walked around the house, grabbing various items, a water bottle, a cloth and a first aid kit. "I'll help..least i can do" you mumbled, sitting on the kitchen counter before ushering him over.

He raised his brow and strode over, standing in front of you, however he kept a distance, being petty. Sighing, you signaled for him to come closer, he obliged and moved an inch or two forward, grinning mischievously at you as you looked at him, dumbfounded. With a huff, you pulled him closer, in between your legs as they hung off the counter. He accepted the position and awkwardly moved his hands before setting them on your knees nervously.

You carefully poured some water onto the cloth, looking back at him afterwards. "stay still." He nodded in response and watched as you lifted the cloth to his face, slowly wiping some of the more prominent dirt away before brushing it over his skin. His eyes flickered over your features, curiosity shining in his blue orbs. The new intimacy made you appreciate more of him, the way he licked his once dry lips, the short beard, that was streaked lightly with grey. The way his hair fell over his face ever so slightly made you shiver, he looked good. It made you wonder how many times you missed his attractiveness throughout the years, you always knew he was good looking but suddenly you felt heavily attracted to the older man.

Slowly, you brushed some of his hair away revealing a deep gash just above his eyebrow, it made you cringe ever so slightly "fuck, does that not hurt?" You asked, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out some alcohol wipes. He shrugged, seeming zoned out and exhausted. Sighing, you bit down onto your lip and gently swiped the wipe over the cut, he flinched and gripped onto the fabric of your shirt, but you didn't mind, mumbling an apology and carrying on.

You frowned "i need to stitch that up, its super deep" you said, placing your pinky under his chin, forcing eye contact. He just nodded and gave you a look of approval, using his free hand to pat your knee in a reassuring way. You took his approval with a grain of salt and got what you needed, he watched your every move intently before closing his eyes when you got ready.

He was tough, but anyone could admit it was painful, you began to stitch it up, trying to be as gentle and quick as possible, his breathe seemed to hitch and his grip tightened in your shirt. You pursed your lips and persevered, taking great care with him. At a particularly painful part, his hand that once rested on your knee, tightly gripped at the push of your thigh, yet you managed to not react and push any dirty thoughts away.

Not long after, you finished, placing everything down and grabbing the cloth, wiping over his face once more, however his grip on your thigh didn't halt, nor did he show any signs of moving. Smiling, you placed the cloth down and looked at him, to your surprise he was already staring deep at you. You lifted your hand to pat his cheek "all done"

He grinned lightly and looked at you, the air thick and hot all of a sudden. "well thank you" he mumbled, his thumb brushing over your clothed thigh. "why do we fight?"

"i couldn't tell you, maybe its your annoying face" you joked. He scoffed, his face softening as he tipped his head to the side "the face you just took such good care of, i might just get you to do this every day" he joked, seeming to move closer.

"I dunno, i don't ever make the same mistake twice.." you clicked your tongue, finding yourself leaning towards him as if some unknown force was pulling you. He seemed impressed at your snarky remark and looked up from your lips, to your eyes, and back to your lips again.

"hm..well this better not be a mistake" he said, voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his lips against yours, it was shocking, so out of nowhere and sudden, yet you kissed back, and god it was not a mistake. Your hands fell comfortably around his neck and he hummed lightly in satisfaction, pulling back to catch his breathe, lips still dancing over yours.

It was had to breath, everything was so sudden, so much had happened, it had been so long since a man had touched you, it was like your senses were in overdrive. You craved him, wanted more of him, your fingers fumbled with the edge of his hair as you pressed a short, gentle kiss to his lips.

A low noise escaped him as his free hand sat on your lower back, pulling you closer to him as his large frame spread your thighs, the way his hand still gripped so tight onto your thigh made you whimper. You were becoming so needy, so overwhelmed by him.

He let his hand ride up your thigh, thumb rubbing over the hot material that clothed your inner thigh, his head falling into the crook of your neck. He peppered sensual kisses over your neck, his lips warm and soft as they parted on the skin of your neck, sucking a mark into the skin. His warm embrace made your head tilt back and eyes flutter back in pleasure.

His scent was exhilarating, having him so close made your heart skip a beat, you never knew you needed him, but now you feared the idea of not being so close. He pulled back from your neck, gently tugging your skin with his teeth, he stepped back, eyes on your neck. A noise left your mouth, it was pathetic and at any other time would cause you embarrassment, but his absence wasn't what you wanted. You wanted him.

He snickered, stepping back between your thighs, both hands spreading over your thighs, gripping at the skin. "someones had a change of heart" He hummed, looking into your dazed eyes, his own slightly glazed over. You just mumbled in response, one of your hands resting on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.

“You’ve gone quiet darlin..have I really made that much of a mess out of you, that fast?” He smirked, leaning to brush his lips over yours, kissing you multiple times for just seconds. You found yourself desperately leaning into him, unbeknownst to what had happened to you.

“Tell me what you want, y/n” his voice was gruff, quiet, it made your body shake. The way your name rolled of his tongue. Licking your lips, you finally spoke up “I want you to touch me, Rick”

“That’s it, good job” he teased, his tone patronising as he squeezed your thighs gently, leaning in once again yet this time kissing you harshly. His lips moving against yours, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip as his fingers fumbled with your jeans, hands sliding up the material to unbutton them, making sure to drag his fingers as close to your heat as possible.

He tugged at the jeans, pulling them down your thighs and leaving them halfway down your shins as to not break the kiss. His tongue found its way into your mouth, the kiss deepening in all the ways you craved as one of his hands played teasingly with the hem of your underwear.

You whined, hands finding his hair to tug gently, earning a groan from him as he began to mess with your panties, agonisingly slow as he began to tug them down your thighs, just like the jeans. He hummed and pulled away from the kiss, lowering himself to fully remove the clothing that rested on your legs, his cold, calloused hands slowly made there way up your legs, landing on your hips and hiking you to the very edge of the counter.

You felt exposed as he spread your thighs with his large hands, his head between them, his breathe hot against your skin as he pressed short kisses along your thighs, one of his hands moving to your heat, his eyes met yours as if he was asking for your permission, you were quick to nod. You were sure you wanted him.

He couldn’t hold back the grin against the plush or your thigh, gently sucking another mark as his thumb found your clit, circling it at a slow pace, the touch sending you insane as your head flew back. He seemed proud of himself, it was clear in the way he sped up the circles to a much nicer pace, his middle finger circling your entrance before carefully pushing inside of you.

He watched your reactions closely, his finger pushing in and out of you, curling into the soft spot you craved. Quiet, desperate moans began to leave your mouth as your hips began to move against his hands, needy. He used his free hand to halt your movements, mumbling a quiet “not yet” he shook his head. It was quick but you felt the knot in your stomach quickly tightening, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as your body tried to, but failed to move against him. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a constant pace, watching you in pleasure as you came undone.

He began to pepper kisses up your thigh, moving closer and closer before he you felt a kiss on your clit, the sensation new and amazing. His tongue circled and played with your sensitive heat, making sure to change often, his finger still inside you. Your hands found his hair, gripping tightly as you tried to keep composure, the evident feeling of him adding another finger into your tight cunt making your eyes squeeze shut. His grin was clear against your skin.

His hand finally loosened on your hips and you were able to move against his face, thighs squeezing around him slightly at the harsh pleasure. His hand wrapped around the back of it, the other still working at your cunt, pushing at the same spot over and over again as he began to suck on your clit, feeling the way your legs began to shake. Your orgasm was building up and it was obvious, the way your quiet moans turned into loud whines and desperate pleas impressed him.

He leaned his head back and used to his thumb to quickly run circles into your clit, mouth pressing kisses into your thigh again as you felt the knot releasing. He kept at his pace for a few moments longer, helping you come down from the high, watching you pant and gasp. He slowly stood up again, carefully removing his fingers and humming. He smirked at your flushed expression, seeming embarrassed. “You taste good sweetheart, we really should do this more often” he teased, kissing you softly, able to taste yourself on his tongue.

Apologies the smut seems so rushed, I wanted to get another fic out so bad and I made this up two or three hours ago lol.

#rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes twd #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick twd #twd rick #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut

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slutouttanowhere · 4 months

Text

WIP Week

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Black!reader

Warnings: use of the word “cunt.” Oral(m) &(f) receiving.

a/n: welp it’s about that time again isn’t it? I’ve found an unfinished smut/fic burried under piles of google docs, and since I’m never gonna finish it I decided to share with you all and show you what could have been. Recently a lot of these wips have been Drew one shots to be honest because I just have sooo many ideas flowing for him all the time I hop around a lot. Anywho, I hope you all can still enjoy this in some shape or form. *I did not design the divider down below* Follow me, and check out my pinned post for more.

Drew teaches you how to grip it.

“Please.” You begged, since Sheamus adorned Drew with his family heirlooms, he’s been bringing it to the ring with him ever since. Angela, his large, long, shining silver sword. The way he’d stalk down to the ring with it gripped in his big hands, you’d stand at the apron, and watch him adoringly as he stands center ring with Angela held high above his head.

“For the tenth time, no. I am not letting you swing the sword, it’s too dangerous, and you’re too small to hold it properly.” He said sternly, a pensive expression on his face; he knew how adorable you’d look with such a large weapon, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

You blew a raspberry, “buzzkill.” You pouted and fell back onto him on the sofa, your hair flopping in his face. Drew rolled his eyes. He was reading but your little stunt knocked it out of his book out of his hands. He knew you were only bugging him about it so much today because you became obscenely obnoxious when you were bored. Hunter had given you two a plethora of off days, but as Drew puts it, you’re a ‘busy body.’ He had to come up with new, interesting ways to entertain you, or else you would become like this. He was used to your childlike behavior, your goofiness is one of the things that attracted him to you. From far away your laughter could be heard, and that gorgeous smile of yours would light up a room. He embraced your popularity, and learned to share you with your co-workers as you were everyone’s best friend.

“If I show you how to swing the bloody sword will you stop nagging?” He sighed finally caving, his hands held onto your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap. The grin on your face grew, you knew you’d get your way eventually. He could never resist the sad face, and pouty lips.

“Really? Like right now?” You rapped your arms around your shoulders, a look of adoration passed over his face. He couldn’t fight his own smile, he tapped your skin with his hands playfully.

“Yes really. Now, to the garage!” Drew shouted, without hesitation you hopped up, and ran off.

The garage wasn’t super huge, but it was big enough to swing a sword, that’s all that really mattered. Drew held onto the hilt with a firm grip, standing in just his jeans, and socks, he grinned at the look on your face. A mix of excitement, and amazement rolled into one. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, but that doesn’t make it any less of a spectacle. Drew approached you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he began to circle you playfully. His eyes traveled up and down your curvy body. By the time his eyes got to your breast, he just then realized you weren’t wearing a bra underneath his t-shirt. He swallowed, ‘focus Drew, if you don’t give her what she wants right now, she’ll never let it go.’ He thought to himself. “So you wanna learn sword wielding aye?” His accent slipping into a heavier tone, he spoke slowly, and you hung onto his every word. Captivated by Drew, as usual.

“Well darlin, the first thing you must learn…is how to grip it.” He came to a halt directly behind you, your eyes closed as you let Drew’s immersive presence engulf you. His fingers pulled your hair back behind your shoulder, pressing his lips to your ear as he spoke; his breath tickled you. “Are you gonna be a good girl, and listen to all my instructions?”

You shook your head vigorously, “yes Sir.” You felt his warm soft lips press to the shell of your ear

He brought his arms around you carefully, he held the sword in one hand, and with the other he grasped onto your wrist. “This end of the sword is called the hilt, it is important you hold onto it with a firm grasp.” You weren't sure if he was touching you like this on purpose, or if Drew really is that gentle. Probably a bit of both. He took your hand and replaced it where he was, he held onto you to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally drop it. “Squeeze me tighter, hmm, just like that.” He purred, then pressed himself against you closer, naturally your body leaned into him, and caused you to forget all about the sword. “That’s it, good girl.” He hummed directly into your ear, his beard tickled your skin, and he followed that with a kiss. You bit your lip trying to suppress the moan that threatened to leave your lips when you felt your nipples tighten.

“Now take this hand, and place it here.” He took your other hand and placed it a little lower than the other. Drew stood behind you, both his arms wrapped around yours, and his hands still ghosting your hands. No longer interested in this medieval weapon, you grind your ass against him.

There was a long pause, for a moment you wondered if he was still there, so you turned your head. You barely got a chance to turn before Drew’s large hand grabbed you by the back of the head, “did I say you could move?” His voice now gruff, and his breathing a little ragged. Your back straightened up, not daring to make one move, his fingers caressed your bare thighs. He took his time making his way up to your hips, when he didn’t feel the cotton fabric that would be your underwear, he chuckled deeply. “No bra…no panties, well you’re in for a world of trouble princess.” He held onto you, his hands coming around the front of you to cup your breast underneath your shirt. His lips pressed to your neck, for a second your grip loosened on the hilt, “you better not drop that sword.” He warned through kisses, his fingers pinched, and tugged on your nipples.

“Ah, fuck.” You hissed through your teeth, that stinging pain traveled between your thighs stirring an aching sensation in your core. He slid his fingers down your soft tummy, your hips moved in circles in anticipation; with his unoccupied hand he quickly undid his jeans, and pressed your ass against him.

“You see what you do to me sweetheart, now how are we going to fix this little problem of mine?” He pushed his fingers between your pillow like thighs drawing another whimper out of you.

“I’ve got three holes for a reason Drew, pick one.” You answered eagerly, he chuckled darkly.

“Oh dear, I think you just signed up for a promise you can’t keep.”

“Try me.” You dared, which you knew was a bad choice, but Drew’s smart mouth had a way of rubbing off on you.

“She’s bold today! Just because you’ve held that sword doesn’t make you battle ready, princess. Since you’ve got so much to say, how about we shut you up, because I’m about to fill your throat full of cock, and cum.” He growled out, taking the sword from your hands, and carefully putting it back in its place, then he turned to you. Of course you were standing there looking all wide eyed and innocent as if you didn’t just threaten a wild jungle cat. He pointed towards the garage door that led back into the house, “walk.” Without hesitation you walked back into the house, you took a seat back on the sofa.

Drew came in behind you, “look at you getting comfortable, you know what?” He paused his words coming to stand directly in front of where you sat on the couch, your thighs crossed one over the other. “Actually you’re gonna need that sweetheart, because you’re gonna be in one position for a long time.” As he spoke he pulled his jeans down the rest of the way, and kicked them aside now only standing in his boxer briefs. The man was a sight to behold, he was perfect; tall, thick with muscles, and a handsome face that made you weak in the knees.

With his finger he beckoned you forward with his index finger, “c’mon closer princess, that’s right to the arm of the sofa.” Slowly you crawled to the edge, and propped yourself up on the arm of the couch. Drew met you halfway, one hand gripping himself over the cotton of his underwear, and the other reached out to pat you on the head. You kept your eyes on the hardened erection pressing against his boxers, your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

“Damn, it’s been a while since your cock has been in my mouth.” You moaned out, your hands already reaching for him, and hooking around the elastic waist.

Drew chuckled darkly as he watched your eyes light with desire, you pulled the large tee shirt over your head and tossed it aside. Your naked body on full display, his hands cupped your full breast, and let the weight of them in his palms. His thumbs caressing your nipples, the ghost-like touch was all you needed for them to become painfully tight. “Fuck I need those big tits of yours in my mouth.” Drew groaned, suddenly changing his mind he came to sit next to you, and wrapped one arm around your waist. He slouched down into the couch a little to meet you eye, to breast. His tongue flicked your small brown bud, then sucked it deeply into his mouth.

His gaze found yours as he moved on to the next one showing it the same attention. He switched back and forth between both before he stuffed his face between your cleavage, and inhaled your scent. He peppered kisses across your skin one last time before he let you go so you could readjust. You sat on your knees, reached into his underwear, and grasped his erection. He felt warm in your hands, you pumped him once, twice, then three times. Pre cum dropped from his tip, you tilted your head back to Drew, and planted a kiss on his lips before you swiped his mushroom tip with your tongue. A soft moan fell from his lips, his hand gingerly sliding up, and down your back.

You lowered half your body onto his lap, his muscular thighs becoming your pillow, and your ass perched up in the air. His fingers came to rest on your ass as you slowly slid him into your mouth, he slid his fingers over your slick cunt. His thumb rubbed circles around your clit, with his free hand he held your hair in his hand to keep it out of your eyes. You took him as deep into your throat as your anatomy would allow. The tip of him hit your uvula causing you to gag, but that didn’t stop you. You kept swallowing him till tears sprung from your eyes, “always so fucking greedy for my cock huh?” Drew pushed one finger into you, and then a second. You tightened around him, the hill of his hand pressing against your clit causing you to throb deliciously, and ultimately distracting you.

Finally pulling your lips away from him, you turned your head up to Drew, who’s eyes were lidded. Overtaken by lust he couldn’t be bothered with the saying, or doing anything properly. “Shit that feels so good, can I cum please?” You begged out of breath, wordlessly he pulled away from you, and at first thought you did something wrong. He got up, and pulled you with him. He bent you over the arm of the couch, his hands grasping your booty cheeks in both hands and spread you wide.

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre oneshot #drew mcintyre x reader #black!reader #reader insert #writing wip #—tokio #wip week

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fruityrituals · 1 year

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inked & marked

swiss ghoul x fem reader

summary: swiss acts on his feelings about a new tattoo you got dedicated to the ghouls

cw: explicit, unprotected sex, breeding, bondage, breath play, oral, blood, mask kink

(18+) / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ghost Masterlist

(divider below from @cafekitsune) | pics above from pinterest

Today is the first time in a while that you have a lot of alone time. The ghouls and papa have been on a break from tour for a couple months now and today they've started doing practices since tour starts again in a couple weeks. You had no idea what to do with your day without the multi-ghoul. After cleaning your’s and Swiss’ room, doing some chores around the ministry, and giving yourself bangs, you look at yourself in the mirror after a shower and look over all your tattoos and decide that its time for a new one. The last few months, you have been thinking about getting a tattoo dedicated to the current Ghost era since they would be changing a lot of things soon and you want to have some type of permanent memory since you met Swiss in their current era. You get a tattoo of the ghouls helmet on your hip and once you get home, you strip down staying in just your black lace thong and bra with your knee high socks and laid in bed listening to music waiting for Swiss to get back. You know your ghoul and know that this tattoo will get some type of reaction out of him.

Swiss gets home about an hour later walking through the door of your room still dressed in his helmet and stage clothing as he says “i really need a bath i’m very sweaty and smelly and i-”. He pauses when he sees you in the bed in your lace. He quickly shuts the door behind him and quietly walks over to the bed. You were laying on your stomach with headphones on and reading a book so you don’t hear him come in. He observes your body as he starts to undo his vest, then tilts his head when his eyes reach the new tattoo. When he notices you don’t know he’s there, he lets his tail come around, caress your tattoo, then the tip of his tail slaps your ass. You jolt and turn around quickly looking up at Swiss with a hand over your chest “you scared the shit out of me!”. Swiss points at the tattoo as he keeps his eyes on it and says “whats that?”. You grin looking from him, to the tattoo, then back up at him “a little memory of the era i met you in, also to show my love for all of you guys. you like it?”. Swiss grins under his helmet as he takes off his vest and starts undoing his shirt taking that off too leaving him in hit helmet, pants and boots “undo my pants” he says as he looks down at you on the bed. You quickly crawl over to the edge of the bed in front of him as you run your hands down his torso first then undid his belt. Swiss was already bulging beneath the fabrics and it doesn’t take you long to eagerly undo his pants letting his dick spring out. You bite your lip looking up at him as you watch his chest rise and fall, “suck”. You grinned wrapping a hand around his length and place your other hand on his thigh as you spit on his tip before you start stroking his cock. He immediately moans knocking his head back as his tail comes around and wraps around your neck. You swirl your tongue on the tip and then take him into your mouth hitting the back of your throat each time as he moans out “fuck, such a good girl” as his tail tightens around your neck. You guys have safe words and gestures if you ever need him to stop, but if you couldn’t speak, your gesture was tapping his thighs, so he puts both your hands in his thighs as he wraps your hair in his fists and thrusts into your mouth taking all of him until you’re gagging on him. His tail wraps tighter around your neck until the edge of your vision starts tunneling and your head becomes hazy. After a couple more thrusts and his tail tightening, tap both his thighs with your hands 3 times and he loosens his tail and releases your head quickly pulling you up into his arms. He kisses your neck as you catch your breath and let you vision come back to you.

Once he hears your breathing evened out, he shoves you on your back onto the bed and quickly rips off your panties. You adjust yourself so your hips are half way off the edge of the bed as you watch him kick off his boots and the rest of his clothes, he then pulls off his helmet and he had a smirk on his face as he places the helmet on your head and secures the buckle under the chin since it was too big for you. You grin up at him then bite your lip as he gets on his knees beside the bed. His tail comes around and runs along your tattoo on your hip and around your pelvis then to your clit making you jolt and let out a soft whine. Swiss lines up his cock to your entrance slowly pushing into you as you drop your head back letting out a relieved moan. He grips your hips with both hands making you flinch as he sinks inside of you all the way to the hilt. Swiss only give you 10 seconds to adjust before he grunts and starts thrusting inside of you. He takes one hand off of the tattooed hip trailing his hand up and down your body then up to your neck wrapping his hand around it. You start to sweat already with the helmet on and you cant see him that well because it doesn’t fit you right. His tail is rubbing against your sensitive bud as he thrusts into you “you look so hot with my helmet on baby while you’re taking my cock like such a good girl”. His praises and the pace of his cock ramming into you combined with his tail working your clit sends your head tilting back causing you to arch your back and moan out his name.

Swiss wraps his arms around you as he pulls you to his chest and stands up from the ground while still buried deep inside of you. He sit on the bed putting his back against the headboard and settles you into his lap. You readjust yourself as you place your hands on the headboard above his head and start bouncing in his lap. Swiss lets out a whiny moan as he undoes the strap of the helmet and take it off of you “i need to kiss you and see your beautiful fucking face” he wraps one hand on the back of your neck and starts kissing you roughly as you both moan on each other. You pull away from the kiss after a few moments and look down at him and find him looking up at you with such lustful eyes and you say “so you like my new tattoo then?” You grin at him as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth sucking on it then bit it softly looking up at you through his lashes before pulling his mouth away and says “fucking love it baby and i love you” he kisses your neck and you moan out “i love you too” then you both kiss each other roughly again. You feel your orgasm sneaking up and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten around him. He shakes his head and pulls out of you causing you to gasp. You glare at him “what the fuck Swiss!” he grins as he puts his hand over your mouth and says “not yet baby” and removes his hans from your mouth and kisses you gently before moving you off his lap “hands and knees now”

You quickly move onto your hands and knees on the bed and he gets behind you. He leans over you as he pushes your face down into the bed leaving your ass in the air, then he takes your hands putting them behind your back and his tail comes around and secures your wrists together. Your heart is racing and your squirming and dripping on the bed waiting for him to absolutely rail you from behind. Swiss leans down running his tongue up your back, then he sinks his teeth into your shoulder biting you drawing blood. Your legs tighten together as you squirm a bit and he licks the blood from your shoulder then slaps your ass “spread your legs”. You let out a yelp and flinch as you keep your legs together liking to push him over the edge. He leans down and presses his lips to your ear “did you hear me? i told you to spread your legs and i wont ask again”. That sends shivers down your spine straight to your core as you reply “make me”. Swiss lets out a low chuckle as he sits back up and slaps your ass with both hands then leans down and sinks his teeth into your hip right above your fresh tattoo. You gasp letting out a whine into the bed as you give in and spread your legs for him and he replies with a “good fucking girl” then thrusts into you without warning sending a loud moan passed your lips as you bite the bedsheets. He starts thrusting into you at a harsh pace. The sting from him slapping your ass, the pain from the bites he made combined with his tail restraining your wrist and his dick slamming into you makes you feel like you are about to scream and come undone. He grips your hair with one hand pulling your head back as he continues his pace. You start to tighten around him and he moans at the feeling as he wraps a hand around to you neck and pulls you up flush against his chest as he thrusts up into you like that. His hand tightens around your neck as he whispers into your ear “i’m going to fill you up baby”. You nod quickly letting out a whine as you grip his arm and you quickly come undone and he follows close behind you as you both moan out and he empties deep inside of you as his thrusts become sloppy. He leans back on his heels as he wraps one arm around your torso and keeps the other hand around your neck as he kisses your lips roughly and keeps you there for a few more moments before slowly pulling out of you with a groan.

Swiss scoops you up right away carrying you to the bathroom setting you on the toilet as he starts filling the tub with warm water. As the tub fills, he walks over and stands in front of you cupping your cheeks and leans down kissing your lips very slow and sweet. You both smile on each others lips as he whispers “i love you” and you reply with and “i love you too”. He helps you into the tub once its filled and he sits behind you with his legs on either side. It always made you chuckle when he takes a bath with you because he was too big for it with his knees sticking out of the water above the edge of the tub. He takes a wash cloth wrapping his arms around you as he gently washed your body for you, then your hair. You return the favor to him and once you’re both out the shower and in bed, he walks over to you with some ointment for your tattoo. He kisses your ghoul tattoo then applies the healing ointment on it gently. Once he gets into bed, he pulls you flushed against his chest and you both sleep tangled with each other.

#ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul fan fiction #swiss fanfiction #multi ghoul #Swiss ghoul x reader #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul x female reader #fanfiction

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