#go look at him while i procrastinate drawing him!!

[humans-are-tasty]

[artjiayi]

Jade's worst nightmare 🌊

That's definitely the most detailed illustration I've ever drawn and it also took me a while to finish it. I procrastinated because I was going out of my comfort zone and I was so scared to mess it up... but I overcame it because the lore behind this drawing meant a lot to me.

About this illustration, I wanted to focus on Jade's sensitivity through the world surrounding him, especially on land. I wanted to break the twisted picture we all have of him and show his vulnerability. I also wanted to express a duality between his sea life and life on land. His eel form is a reminder of where he originally comes from.

To me, Jade looks like an unbreakable wall: he basically smiles all the time and he always seems to hide his true emotions. Although Jade tends to do some questionable things (let’s be real), I do believe that behind that wall, there’s an unusual but very touching sensitivity.

What I adore about Jade is the fact that he doesn't fear people's opinion about his hobbies and nothing can stop him from doing them, no matter what. He has a deep connection to everything related to nature so to me, he enjoys quiet places and being alone. Therefore I strongly believe he's an introvert and needs those moments disconnected from any social interactions.

Even though Jade appreciates solitude, he also needs to connect with people from time to time. There was a sentence he said during Vargas Camp that literally broke my heart:

"I'm envious that everyone else has someone to converse with. And here I am, all alone."

To me, that proves he's actually looking for deep connections with people so that he can be himself without being judged at all. Even Floyd and Azul find his interests weird and they're pretty harsh about his club. I know the octatrio has their own dynamics but still, Jade deserves to have a buddy who shares the same hobbies as him.

Anyway, I could write so much more about Jade but that's basically how I see him. My interpretation is probably a bit biased because of the love I already have for him but whatever. Thanks to it, I was able to imagine what could be his worst fear as he always seems so untouchable at first sight. I love shady Jade but sensitive Jade is what I need right now.

[rilakeila]

five times when the secret was almost revealed and when it did, where you and mattheo are secretly dating, teaser

word count 1.8k fandom harry potter pairing mattheo riddle x fem!animagus! reader warnings none notes hints at the animagus story, lowkey -3-

request i saw your post about wanting requests so anything mattheo as there’s never another content for him!!! but more specifically him with like an opposite gf!!! like she’s sweet and girly and kind!!! how do you think he’d be around her??? i turned this request into something new !

SECRECY kept your relationship with mattheo hidden from the hogwarts students. there was nothing shameful, just preferred to keep it private. truly, mattheo did not feel comfortable in having to hear comments about how hogwarts’ sweetheart ended up with the delinquent or even, the dark lord’s son (or that he was the most affectionate boyfriend, he would never hear the end of being such a smitten lover). you respected his wishes, continuing to share your secret kisses away from the public. though, it started to be impossible to keep away as time had passed on, you were certain that someone was going to catch you.

slip-up one: the late-night library study session

“it’s so nice having my girlfriend be the head girl of the school, comes with a lot of privileges, like staying out for so long,” mattheo said while procrastinating for the transfiguration test. you rolled your eyes, knowing that he said it quite often. prior to being in a relationship with him, you were a prefect, which allowed you to have a good running for head girl. you, more than likely, save him and the other slytherin boys constantly from trouble than any other task that you have around the school.

“if it means ensuring you out of trouble, i’ll continue to keep my role,” you said, looking up to see that he stopped writing down his notes, “or, you’ll be out of luck if you don’t keep studying, love.”

he pouted before flipping to the next page of his notes, “i don’t think i did this much studying before you.”

“well, if you can be on probation for delinquency, it'll be worse if you have to do it for academics. come on, your quidditch match eligibility relies on this paper otherwise you’re out for a week until the next test,” you said, leaning to peck the pout off, which instantly lifted into a small smile before resuming on your own work.

“yes ma’am,” before continuing, he pulled your chair closer to him, wrapping his arm your waist, hand resting on your hip. there was one way to heat up your face, pressing your lips into a tight line, fighting the smile. he knew that this action, even if it was reoccurring, would always make you feel giddy. the smile that you just wanted push away, he continued to write from the book, “you okay there, love?”

“of course,” you cleared your throat to maintain composure as you written in your notes. 

moments passed, a quarter left done of your notes, but what you did not notice that the boy next to you did not keep up with his work, opting to draw your side profile as well as sketching certain deconstructed parts such as just your eyes in one section, lips, even in different forms such as your smile or when you were talking with how it formed. taking a break, you looked to your side, only to see your boyfriend leaning on his elbow, sketching on the paper with other, a grin on his face. you reached out to pinch his cheek, wiggling it slightly.

he sat up, pushing the notebook closer to you, “you like it? here’s your animagus form, little kitty. and the little crescent on your cheek, and the sparkle near your eye. then, here’s you, right now, i drew big sparkle things in there because your eyes twinkle.”

“this is nice, i love it,” your finger traced around the paper, looking at each doodle. you always loved the details that he puts in every piece he has, loving all of his art, but his quick draws always had a much more special place in your heart. 

“just for you, love,” he gently tilted your chin upwards with his fingertips, his eyes fixed on your face with tenderness, savoring the moment. leaning in, lips almost touching, mattheo pulled apart quickly, which you heard footsteps, now knowing the reason of the suddenness.

you turned around to see who the additional person may have been aside from madam pince, but she was aware of your late night study sessions, despite always trying to shoo you both away. luckily, your continuance of volunteerism in the library since your fourth year, upkeeping her strict standards, gave you some leeway as well as your past prefect and current head girl positions. you were wrong in guessing who it was, seeing the disillusionment charm, you waved your wand, countering the spell, “blaise?”

your head turned, hearing soft but obvious steps, casting the counter spell, “and of course, lorenzo? what are you both doing up past hours in the library?”

“just scouting around, actually trying to get into the restricted section,” blaise nodded towards where they needed to go.

“and what about you, two? even outside of friend group hours, i feel betrayed,” lorenzo slung his arm around your shoulder, walking towards mattheo.

“we’re just studying, enzo, otherwise you’re out one player for quidditch,” you patted the hand that was slung on your shoulder before sitting down back into your seat, organizing all of the papers that were sprawled out onto the table. 

“sure, just the two of you,” blaise sat on top of the corner, looking through the notes, “or, do you have something that you both aren’t telling us, just as you were sitting a tad too close before?”

mattheo snorted before slipping blaise a small note which contained the information that snape required you to assist in helping him study, “snape’s orders.”

“an alibi, i’m next in line for tutoring, ms. head girl,” enzo raised his hand, in which you just laughed and nodded, agreeing, also catching the quick snark on mattheo’s face. 

you eyed the watch on your wrist, seeing it was reaching you and mattheo’s end of tutoring hours, meaning madam pince would be around the corner to tell you both off and for mattheo to ensure that you would reach your dormitory safely. you looked up to the boys once more, “alright, madam pince will be around at this time, as head girl, i do advise you to head out now before we all are in trouble. “

“but,”

“mattheo will get the information from the book you need tomorrow, pince has all of the books there charmed after some incident with some second years, come on,” you said.

“fine,” lorenzo whined before being smacked up his head by blaise. rubbing his hand from the harsh hit, he looked back to still see mattheo who was writing in his notebook, “come on, mattheo.”

“alright, i just need to finish this last set of words. go on without me,” he waved his hand, dismissing lorenzo. you couldn’t help notice when looking at enzo who has an amused expression, probably at how mattheo was never the one to study. sharing a look with your friend who just had a playful smirk before waving at you a goodbye, he casted the disillusionment spell. 

hearing the quiet shut of the doors of the library, you taken your seat next to your boyfriend who was just continuing his drawing of you, “you had me fooled, thinking you were actually doing your notes.”

“just to get rid of them, i always want pince to give me her permission of walking you late at night,” he smiled.

you returned the smile. though, there was a small worry that lorenzo and blaise did indeed just find out that you were dating, knowing that one of them was the gossip hound of the school. surely, he knew to keep secrets but lorenzo’s rumors would always start with a “what if so and so ended up…” and another person would ask another until the rumor ended up as being a fact due to the continuing relay to another, even if it was false news. you were more concerned for mattheo, as he truly wanted to keep the relationship a secret, as he said that he was not ready for the intrusion of others into his life. 

“hey, love.”

“yes, love?”

“do you think lorenzo knows about us? i wouldn’t want a rumor starting up or anything,” you held his free hand in both of yours, fingers massaging the back of his hand, which he truly enjoyed.

“no, we didn’t do anything, plus as long as he has some concrete evidence that rejects his hypothesis, he won’t speculate,” he placed his pen down, retrieving snape’s note that was near your corner of the table.

“okay, just making sure,” you nodded, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. you searched for any signs of doubt or concern within mattheo’s eyes, but there was a lack of wavering, then again, there was barely anything that trembled him.

“trust me, no on-“

“you two, get to your dorms immediately. if i have to round this corner, i will deduct house points,” madam pince’s sharp voice cut through the air, making you jump even if she routinely said the same thing most nights.

“good night, madam pince,” mattheo waved his wand, cleaning both of your spaces and into each of your book bags. a rushed hum was in response, which he always waited for, as if it was his alarm clock, letting him know that he was able to leave the library. with a silent understanding, you both turned to leave the library, walking side by side towards the exit. as you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, he extended his arm to you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. no matter how often this happens, your breath always caught in your throat, slipping your hands into his, fingers naturally intertwining through with his. t he electricity that always sparked between you when you touched sent a thrill through your body, and you found yourself leaning into his side as you walked, relishing the closeness.

 the silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken emotions that hung heavy in the air. you couldn't help stealing glances at mattheo as you walked, taking in the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light, the way his smile softened when he looked at you.

"i'll see you tomorrow in class?" mattheo asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

"of course," you replied, your heart skipping a beat at the tenderness in his tone. "good night."

you leaned in, unable to resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your body at the contact. mattheo returned the gesture, his lips brushing against your forehead in a lingering caress.

"good night, love," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, before reluctantly letting your hand go, knowing that you needed to go to your respective dormitories.

even if with his certainty that there was no knowledge of your relationship and still in secrecy, there was still a bit of worry. though, just to be selfish, even for once, it would be pleasant to show a private, but not a secret of your relationship. it would have been less stress onto yourself, but whatever happened would happen. as long as it was with him.

incomplete, lmk if you

want to get tagged

in the complete fic.

[andypantsx3]

quick interlude from the bakugou barbarian-verse.

for @procrastination-artist bc your last drawing of feral bakugou made me go berserk 🙃

"He's a prince?" you ask incredulously, gaping at Izuku. "Bakugou?"

Izuku nods that head of wild green curls, blinking guilelessly back at you. "The closest thing his people have to it, anyway. Their custom isn't quite like Yuuei's," he answers.

You glance over your shoulder to where Bakugou is wrestling Kirishima into the dirt, apparently trying his level best to gouge the dragon's eyes out while he's at it. It's only your knowledge that Kirishima is basically impenetrable that stops you from rising in concern.

"That? That is a prince?" you repeat, hopelessly lost, as you watch Bakugou shove a literal fistful of dirt into Kiri's face.

"His mother is their leader," Izuku tells you, a smile in his voice. "It's mostly a hereditary position, with some fighting necessary to succeed. Kacchan's next in line."

"And stay down you spiky-haired shit!" Bakugou's crow reaches you as you turn back to Izuku, mystified. Izuku's mouth is twisted up fondly in the firelight.

"Well he certainly won't have any trouble there," you say emphatically, moving to turn your sausage over the fire. Drippings of grease sizzle off the sides of it, hissing where they hit the flames.

"The fuck I won't," Bakugou growls from behind you, pointedly loud so you can hear it.

You feel your ears go hot, embarrassed that he's heard you discussing him. But it's only natural, considering you're now legally married, according to the customs of one deeply batshit village.

Not that either of you have acknowledged it, however, short of Bakugou snarling that you were his as he'd won the village marriage tournament. He'd hauled you into his arms, carrying you out of there, only to drop you the second you'd cleared the village sight lines.

And neither of you have spoken of it since. But you can't help but be more curious than ever, now, about the man who sort-of-is, sort-of-isn't your husband.

"I'll wipe the floor with anyone who tries for the seat," Bakugou says, stalking over, his booted stride heavy and sure. "Like those assholes in Dagoba."

You chance a look up at him as he drops onto the log next to you, running a hand through his ash blonde hair. He glows in the firelight, the hard planes of his chest glinting with sweat, and he swipes at a patch of dust high on his cheekbone with the back of his hand. The shadows pool in the divots of his arm muscles as he does so.

"So you really are some kind of prince," you echo disbelievingly, reaching back for your sausage skewer, just for something to focus on. "Who would have known."

Bakugou's smile is white and knife-sharp in the light of the flames as those scarlet eyes find you, hot and intent. Your cheeks heat despite yourself.

"Yeah," he says, sounding smug. "Guess that makes you a princess."

You startle. Your sausage goes flying into the fire, hissing and crackling, and your face flames even hotter than the campfire.

Bakugou's smile is far too self-satisfied in the dim.

[babybinko]

My second batch of venture bros genderbends are finally done! :D [first set here]

PLEASE LOOK UNDER THE CUT!!! I made all these nice drawings and doodles of them and I want people to see them without this post being super long! :') [My thoughts on the designs and doodles will be under the cut as well]

Okay NOW I'm going talk about my thought process on some of these:

Baby Rusty: I love the baby Rusty, the frilly socks and sleeves were a must. I actually drew her with the original set of genderbends but I turned off her layer and forgot about her 💀

Jonas Jr: not much to say about her, I tried to make her like Rosie the Riveter. Her little bandana has the Venture logo on it :)

Jonas Sr: I wanted her to be a hot bitch, her outfit is maybe a little scandalous for the time era they were in but I think it fits, canon Jonas is a whore. I think everybody would want her and that every celebrity, politician, and anybody with any power would chase after her so badly.

Blue Morpho: I made her so incredibly slay. I fucking love her outfit, I found the inspo for the outfit on Pinterest but I changed it up a bit. Also her gun has the bayonetta butterfly wings on it as a charm because I HAD TO.

Colonel Gentleman: Not a lot to say, I wanted to give her like horse riding esque boots and I gave her a purple flower cause she likes the ladies. I know generally WLW flowers are Violets and Lavender but I wanted to draw a rose so, Purple rose compromise <3

Dr.Boyfriend 2: With my last round Dr.Boyfriend was the only one people had complaints with. I think people wished he was more Masculine and I agree but if I switched up the design too much it wouldn't look like Dr.Girlfriend. I hope giving him armor and making him look like a knight helped him look more masc. I made the sheer wings cross over his chest to make it look like it was holding up the shoulder armor. Also his guild book is insanely high quality because I was procrastinating drawing his armor.

Goofy and Goober (Watch and Ward): I think they ended up really cute, I tried to make their hair colors close to Doc and Jacksons since I heard they are supposed to be like their "main" self inserts. With Ward I had a really specific idea for her hair, I kept thinking about this haircut from my sims and had to do it. It might be hard to see but her ponytail holders have skull charms on them. I also purposely gave them both some sort of ponytail hairstyle so they would match but be slightly different :) (They are absolutely prank calling or trolling their clients on that phone btw)

Shoreleave: OH MY GOD I LOVE SHORELEAVE. I kept turning her folder back on just to keep looking at her when I was drawing the other characters. She is so captivating to me, she looks so soft and human. I want to take a bite out of her thigh. My biggest inspo for her was Cammy from Street Fighter, I felt like her dressing a bit skimpy works for her since canon Shoreleave kinda does. The girls out for the girls.

Alchemist: I love her design so much too. I wanted her to look like some kind of nun or priestess. She looks like if a Zelda fire temple was a person. I kinda gave her like a weird little hime cut under the hood. Also I put the Triad logo on all three of their designs (+ Triana).

Jefferson: Had a lot of fun with her, I didnt change her design much from canon though so there's not much to say. I did give her more flared pants though. Drawing her hair was a really fun change of pace, I very rarely get to draw textured hair.

College Rusty and Monarch Drawing: I love this one, Monarch turned out so hot dude. You can tell what character I like more LMFAO. I made rusty very obnoxious 80s while keeping the colors of the original college rusty outfit. Monarch kind of looks like postal dude but its fine because shes slay.

Hereditary Venture Family Dinner Drawing: This was one of the first drawings I started but the second to last one I finished. I wanted to draw the family doing something together but I think I really truly just wanted to draw Dermott again. 😭 Nobody has said anything if they noticed but I did give hatred the shirt from these edits. (I believe the one on the left is from reddit and the one on the right is by SquashFold on Twitter)

Dermott piercing Dean's ears drawing: Even though its messy its in the top 3 favorites I did, It was also the last one I did. I just love the idea of Dermott giving goth Dean at home ear piercings. At first I didn't know if I wanted to make Dermott giving her piercings at the mall where she works or at home but the mall idea was too much work for a last minute sketch. Dermott is so mean older sister who shoplifts and works at the mall.

Drug bathroom drawing: Another one of my favorites, its based off a specific deleted scene from Invisible Hand of Fate where Pete and Rusty talk at the bar but Pete comes out of the bathroom sniffling at the start. I love the way I drew Pete pushing the hair out of her face and both of their expressions.

Bdsm 21 drawing: Okay first of all, The little devil Monarch was so cute I was screaming, crying, and throwing up while drawing her. I fucking love her, shes the smallest part of the image but my favorite. I also am quite fond of the bdsm 21.

Quizgirls Pete and Billy: I tried looking up Vanna White dresses to base Pete's outfit off of but I couldn't find one that Pete would actually wear so I just had to make shit up. Billy's design is really basic but the bow in her hair is actually from one of my rejected main Billy genderbends.

Me and The Bestie: I put a lot of effort into this one for no reason. Literally the moment I saw Jonas in the problem machine I thought he should be made of like blue slime. When I was working on this I kept thinking about Momopatchi's Hatsune Microbe drawing so this Jonas was definitely inspired by that. I gave Jonas makeup because she was having a party movie night on gargantua and I felt like she would still have makeup on thats like completely fucked up and deteriorating on her face after many many years. Vendata's outfit was partially based on Marguerite Chapman's from Flight to Mars, never seen it but I was looking up old sci-fi movie costumes to work with and I thought it would look good :)

[kodaiki]

꒰ 12:37 P.M. ꒱ ❛ hogwarts bbf!dan heng x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘, leaning against a stone column in the corner of the courtyard, the air around you crisp with the chill of winter. there's a chatter of voices among them as the hour of lunch passes you by. fellow students pass by, their footsteps muffled by the layer of snow from the storm a few nights prior. the atmosphere is hushed, the winter silence broken only by the distant sounds of laughter and the occasional gust of wind. lunch hour is in full swing, and while your housemates are likely warming up in the great hall, you're out here.

you would be –correction, should be – in the great hall, probably enjoying some warm food with your fellow house buddies and not freezing to death but alas, procrastination is your rival once again, taunting you as you scribble down the best you can your homework for herbology without any distractions. you gnaw your lip through your struggles, your hair falling in front of your face, slightly swaying from the brisk winter breeze painting your nose pink.

your quill moves across the parchment as you work on your herbology homework, your breath visible in the cold air when you take a deep sigh. the crunch of footsteps drawing near makes a presence known to you, but still, your eyes remain focused on your task at hand.

“and what’s my baby sister up to today?” a deep voice chimes from above you paired with a chuckle.

“work, go away,” is your curt response as you barely look up to meet your older brother’s amused glance your way.

“but where’s the fun in that?” blade muses, stepping closer to your sitting figure, his feet crushing the fallen leaves beneath his feet.

it’s when you look up to glare at your seventh year brother when you notice the other pair of eyes looking your way, quietly standing behind blade. your brows raise and eyes widen at the sight. when your eyes meet, the guy quickly averts his gaze and instead, turns his attention to grass.

"hey dan heng," you murmur a light greeting, your tone a blatant shift from the way you’d spoken to your brother. your chin dips into the striped scarf around your neck showing off your house's colors as you feel the winter air tickle your nose.

blade, in turn, rolls his eyes at the obviousness of your tone and softened gaze.

"hey," dan heng replies curtly, offering a nod of acknowledgment. blade swings an arm over his shoulder, shaking dan heng slightly as he hoists him closer, to which he makes a sour and slightly uncomfortable, expression.

"oh, now that i've found you, dear baby sis, we could probably use some advice," blade drawls with a sly smile on his face. in return, your face twists into slight confusion as you tilt your head to the side in question. it seems that you're the only who doesn't know what he's talking about because dan heng quite literally freezes, his throat bobbing slightly.

"advice about what?" you raise an eyebrow, now no longer the slightest bit interested in your homework due in a few short hours.

"well, the yule ball's coming up in a few weeks," blade begins, wiggling his brows knowingly. you nod along, scratching the side of your head, briefly glancing at dan heng, wondering how he could need advice from you of all people. "do you have a date?" your brother then asks. you can't tell if it's a genuine question or if he's looking for a reason to tease you.

"no, i don't," you answer simply, glancing back down at your homework. you miss the way blade turns to look at dan heng. "so, what advice do you need?"

"well, as you're well aware, i'm probably going to ask kafka, my near and dear best friend,” he drawls as if it’s obvious. your eyebrows raise, well aware of his platonic soulmate bond with the purple haired student. though, over time you truly wonder if it’s platonic or not. “but dan heng here is busy beating himself up wondering how to ask his crush," blade finishes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he smirks knowingly, clearly enjoying the revelation that he just dropped on you.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and your eyes widen slightly at the implication that dan heng has someone in mind to ask to the yule ball. not only that, it must mean he has some form of a serious crush on someone, period. the air seems to thicken with an unspoken tension as you process blade's words. the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball takes on a new significance, and a strange mix of emotions swirls within you.

"dan heng, a crush?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual even though your mind is buzzing with curiosity – and maybe some buried jealousy.

blade chuckles, enjoying the reaction he has stirred. "oh yeah. he's been overthinking it for days, probably even longer. poor guy doesn't know whether to go for a grand gesture or something simple. it's like watching a potions experiment gone wrong."

“oh,” you say in acknowledgment, glancing at dan heng with your softest-least-obvious smile his way. he rolls his eyes at blade's tone of words, obviously speaking as if he isn't standing right beside him.

“so that's what brings us to you, y/n. personally, how would you-” blade begins to ask in a light-toned, almost nonchalant voice when he's nudged in the gut by dan heng. “hey, rude,” blade grunts at him, but brushes off the elbow to his side. “how would you want to be asked to the ball? i can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears when he’s pacing around our room.”

“i don’t pace,” dan heng quickly cuts in and it’s the first time he’s spoken since he and blade arrived at the courtyard.

“sure you don’t,” blade rolls his eyes. your brother turns back to you. “so? how’d you wanna be asked?”

you swallow back the lump in your throat and avert your gaze to the parchment of your unfinished herbology homework, though your mind is no longer focused on the intricate details of magical plants at the moment. the subtle revelation that dan heng has someone in mind for the yule ball has captured your attention, and you can't help but wonder who the lucky girl might be, though it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

you have no reason to feel this way, of course. as far as you're concerned, dan heng is your older brother's best friend. you've only ever been around him for reason of association since blade just loves to tease and poke fun at you, and you've always seen dan heng as a reliable friend. yet, as you continue to feign interest in your herbology homework, the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball lingers in your mind.

"well," you begin, tapping the quill against the parchment thoughtfully, as you attempt to push whatever negative emotions are bubbling in your system, "i suppose a simple and sincere approach is always nice. maybe a heartfelt note or even a private conversation."

blade feigns a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand for dramatic effect. "bo-oring...and here i thought you'd go for something more grand and romantic. you know, like a surprise invitation under the stars or a magically enchanted message."

"well, those can be nice too, but sometimes simplicity holds its own charm. it's the thought and effort that count the most." you recall earlier in the week when march 7th was asked to the yule ball with a grandiose sign and flashmob in the middle of lunch. of course, she adored it, but you couldn't imaging sitting through that without feeling a little second hand embarrassment.

dan heng seems to be listening intently, though he's doing a poor job of pretending not to be. you catch his eyes briefly, and this time, he doesn't look away as quickly. there's a subtle warmth in his gaze that you can't quite decipher, but you offer him an encouraging smile.

blade, ever the perceptive older brother, grins knowingly. "i think that's some solid advice, don't you think?" he asks, nudging his friend beside him. it's almost like blade is staring through dan heng, and you can tell there's probably something you're unaware of that they're mentally communicating about.

dan heng, still recovering from the unexpected topic of asking his best friend's younger sister for love advice of all things, stumbles over his words. "i, uh, yeah. simple is good, got it."

"see? even dan heng agrees. thanks for the wisdom, dear sister." he offers a salute of gratitude as he turns to leave with his friend.

"hey, dan heng?" you ask before the've left ear shot. the two boys turn around to glance at you, blade raising an eyebrow with an imperceptible expression on his face.

"hm?" he hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. you have to look away for a split second before you start to blush.

"good luck," you smile brightly. "no matter how you ask them, i'll sure they'll love it and say yes." the words tumble out before you can think. by the time you've said them, your cheeks are a warm pink, something you brush off as the cold winter air from sitting outside for too long.

"thanks, y/n," he says, offering a smile of his own, enough to illicit your brain to short circuit, which you don't have to recover from immediately because the boys then walk away. blade, of course, manages to sneak a teasing smile your way, well aware of what's probably going on in your head.

with that, blade drags dan heng away, likely to impart more "wisdom" in a less public setting. you could only assume what blade was busy whispering in his ear that makes him push him off while blade laughs. you're left alone against the tree, the courtyard now quieter as the lunch hour comes to an end.

the revelation that dan heng might be preparing to ask someone to the yule ball lingers in your thoughts. as you finally gather your books and stand up, ready to head inside and get warm instead of staying out in the cold for too long.

the day passes as you go through the rest of your classes. you hand in your poor attempt of your unfinished herbology homework, receiving a raised brow from professor sprout. still, she seems to give an equally as understanding expression, chalking up your less-than-ideal attempt having do with the excitement that relates to the yule ball.

you walk through the halls of hogwarts, hugging your books close to your chest on your way to dinner in the great hall, a much needed meal waiting for you after your long day. your eyes are trained at the tiled floor ahead of you as your mind is too preoccupied to focus on everything else. the corridors seem unusually crowded, filled with students excitedly discussing their plans for the upcoming event.

as you turn a corner on your way to your common room, your scattered and distracted thoughts make you unintentionally collide with someone, causing your books to scatter across the floor. flustered, you start gathering them, apologizing profusely without looking up. "sorry!"

a familiar voice responds, "no worries. i should have been more careful, too." you glance up, and there stands dan heng, a small smile playing on his lips as he bends down to help you collect your books.

"oh, hey again," you greet in a slight breathless tone, unsure whether you should feel more or less embarrassed that you collided right into him. "thanks," you say as he helps, feeling a strange warmth in the air as your hands accidentally brush against each other while reaching for the same book before you both quickly yank your hands back.

"no problem," he replies, handing you the last book. there's a brief moment where your eyes meet, and it feels like time stands still. there's unspoken tension, you think, and its palpable.

dan heng was never a man of many words, you know. then again, one glance from him can hold a million words. despite not being of many words, you never felt any less close to him than your own classmates who've talked your ear off on countless occasions. it might be an inappropriate crush, having one on your older brother's friend, but it's not like you can do anything about it now.

before you can say anything more, dan heng takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. "well, i better get going."

"right," you mumble, still caught in the lingering atmosphere between you two.

you watch as he turns away to leave you in the empty hall, but just as he's about to walk away, you notice him hesitate and pause in place. your face expresses confusion when he turns to face you again and looks back at you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"everything okay?"

dan heng seems to struggle with his words for a moment, his gaze shifting as if he's trying to find the right way to express what's on his mind. it's a side of him you haven't seen before, and it leaves you both intrigued and a tad concerned.

"yeah," he finally says after a moment, his voice a touch lower than usual, like he's in deep thought. "i just wanted to say, um, about the yule ball..."

"oh! did you ask out who you wanted to?" your brows raise as your curiosity is piqued. your curiosity must be a masochist of sorts because why on earth are you so eager to find out something that will without doubt potentially ruin your night?

dan heng chuckles softly. "not quite," he says quietly. "i was just going to ask, did you really mean what you told blade and me earlier?"

"about what?" your head tilts to the side as you scrunch your eyebrows and a thoughtful frown is on your face.

"how you'd like to be asked," he clarifies. "something simple?"

"oh," you smile shyly. "well, yeah. i'm personally not one to love grand gestures of affection with the attention it garners," you laugh lightly to yourself. "why?"

"just wanted to make sure i'd get it right when i asked` you."

"hm," you hum to yourself with a nod, barely registering his words. a few seconds pass and your head jerks up a bit to meet his serious gaze, your face displaying perplexity. "wait, what?"

at your lost expression, dan heng smiles (smiles!) with an amused laugh through his nose. "the advice wasn't for me to ask someone else, y/n." he reveals in a . when you're still too shocked to say anything, he asks instead. "would you want to go to the yule ball with me?"

your heart skips a beat at the unexpected question. for a moment, a long moment, you're frozen in place, trying to process everything he just said. the realization dawns on you that the secret crush you harbored might not be so one-sided after all.

the courtyard conversation wasn't merely about hypotheticals for dan heng, you knew that, but not to this extent! not to mention, your brother blatantly asked you how you'd like to be asked (on behalf of all girls, but still) to the ball. you feel a little bamboozled, to be quite honest, but in the best way.

the air is thick with anticipation as you meet his eyes. the warmth in them is more evident now, and there's a vulnerability that you never expected to see from someone as composed as dan heng.

"really, me?" you ask, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

"of course, you," he says like it's most obvious answer. after a few seconds, his expression turns serious, "if it's uncomfortable for you or if you don't want to, forgive me-"

"no-no, that's not it!" you quickly cut him off before he can finish, waving your hands in front of him. "i'd love to." you beam.

relief washes over him, and a smile breaks across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "yeah?"

you nod in confirmation, still smiling widely. you jut your thumb in the direction of the great hall. "i was just heading to a late dinner. you wanna come?"

dan heng wordlessly nods with a smile and falls into step with you as you both begin walking through the long corridor.

"so...earlier today with blade..." you trail off, breaking the comfortable silence as you recall the courtyard conversation.

"all his idea," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "he knew i wouldn't have just asked so he just had an idea of his own."

"did blade know the whole time?" you ask.

"he's only been bothering me about it since the start of fifth year."

you pause in your step. "fifth year?" you ask, shyly peering at him through the corner of your eyes as you walk toward the great hall.

"yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck as his ears go red. "apparently i wasn't subtle enough for your brother to notice. it took him a while for me to admit it..."

you laugh, recalling on your own side how your own brother taunted you for staring extra long at his friend. was he playing matchmaker this whole time? "does that mean we'll have to thank him at some point?" you can only imagine the shit-eating grin on his face, all by his own behind the scenes doing.

there's a brief silence between you two and you come to the same answer.

"no."

"absolutely not."

.... so that's the first fic im back with! i know im rusty so pls let me be...plots will get better i swear <3 ty for reading! also we just gonna go w dan heng and blade being besties it's an alternate universe ok

[lululandd]

problem;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 712

warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, insecurity, eventual fluff

note: i really dont wanna paint könig, im mad procrastinating

summary: the unspoken ‘with me’  hangs in the air.

 “You packed.”

His curt tone made you flinch as you gingerly put groceries in the fridge. You tried as best you could to not look his way, hoping Simon would let the matter go. You had broken your leg and fractured your wrist in the most uncool way possible, slipping on ice. He had warned you beforehand, knowing how frail normal human bodies could be. Unlike his apparently, sometimes you wonder if he sees himself as indestructible just because he’s 6 '3.

His hand came to view and you froze, shoulders curling into yourself as you tried to subtly move away from him. Sensing your tense demeanour, he slowed his motions and gently grabbed the fruit from your hand, put it inside the fridge himself, and leaned on the counter. Not daring to look him in the face, you decided to try and continue packing your groceries. 

Sighing, he dragged your chair away from the fridge and closed it.

“You’re going to your parents?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it scared you so bad he might have as well have shouted. “What’s wrong with staying here?”

You were on the verge of tears, not knowing why. Simon’s always busy with work, he barely comes home, and the one time he had a three month long break from it you stupidly slipped on some ice. He has to take care of you, instead of having fun and going somewhere or doing whatever he wants on his time off.

Stupid.

Useless.

“I just didn’t want to bother you with broken leg and hand stuff. My parents' place is closer to the doctor’s office and the physical therapy place anyway.”

He visibly tensed and you know you fucked up. 

“Physical therapy is after you’re fully healed.” he remarked, you saw a flicker of indignation in his eyes, “Are you planning to stay there the whole time I’m here? Every time I go to work you complain that I’m never home and the one time I come home for longer than a week you do this.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, a muted gasp twists your face. “It was an accident, Simon! You say that like I fell on purpose or something!” You say in a raised voice, appalled at his words.

He presses both palms on his eyes, “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” He squatted next to you–you never knew men that big could do that–and placed a large hand on your thigh. “By ‘this’ I meant going to your parents. I will be here for three months, and you want to stay with your parents for however long it will be. What’s wrong with being here?”

The unspoken ‘with me’  hangs in the air.

“Oh.” A wave of embarrassment flowed through your veins, you had thought of the worst of him when all he wanted was to spend time with you. With uninjured you, preferably. “Sorry.”

“You’re still not answering any of my questions, love.”

Weighing your words, you realised you can’t weasel your way out of telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

“I don’t want to bother you, Simon.”

“Bother?” He breathes.

A shiver of apprehension travelled up your spine at the way he spoke. You’ve heard that tone before, but never directed towards you; it was always towards people bothering you two. Does that mean he sees you as a bother right now?

“You don’t have a lot of time off, and I don’t want you to waste it… here.. taking care of me while I can’t do jack shit. You have to carry me up and down the stairs, you have to carry me to and from the car when we go outside,” you gestured with your good hand, “you have to go with me to the doctors and my physical therapy, you have to do most of the cooking and cleaning, and you have to sit down and listen to me bitch about this broken leg from 1am to 4am.”

He stood up and cupped the back of your neck, his thumb slowly drawing soothing circles as he kissed the top of your head.

“You’re listing things I already want to do, with or without your broken leg.”

[rrxnjun]

portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst. warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob word count: 5.8k playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!

turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.

It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.

Because he’s not.

He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger. 

And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun’s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.

If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.

Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.

“What the fuck are you doing right n–”

Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.

That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.

The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.

And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..

“Dude, what is–”

“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.

It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.

Because he’s not.

He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.

It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.

That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.

“Renjun!”

“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.

“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.

“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around. 

“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else. 

It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.

“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.

“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.

“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”

You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.

“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.

“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.

“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.

“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…

“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation. 

“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you. 

“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”

And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?” 

Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”

“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.

The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.

“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step. 

Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.

When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand. 

“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.

“Have you done this before?”

“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action. 

Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk. 

“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in. 

“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.

Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.

“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so. 

“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.

“What do you–”

His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.

He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”

“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.

“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.

You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.

His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.

And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.

His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.

Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you. 

“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.

“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.

“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?

His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.

Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.

“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.

“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”

“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.

“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”

“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.

“What are you–”

“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.

“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.

“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”

You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

“You drew all of these?”

“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.

“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.

“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”

Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft. 

It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.

“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.

“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.

“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”

[hoeforhao]

🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎ pt.3

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: smut with zero to no plot, just a bonus stand alone sort of to the angsty previous parts.

↷ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!!explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving ), mostly fem pleasuring, thigh kink?creampie, breeding kink, biting and marking, slightly bratty seungcheol, lots of name calling. Tell me if i missed any!

↷ summary: what happens when your husband finally caves in to his mistakes and gives you an unforgettable night as an apology.

↷ part: 3/4 pt.1, pt.2, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.3k (how can just smut be this long lord)

↷ author's note: last part finally lord yayyy!!! after much procrastination it's here at last. I suck at writing smut and specially breeding kink, so pls bear with me♡

Permanent taglist : @feat-sun @joonsytip @dinonuguaegi

If your two day old self saw you now squished under seungcheol's bulk figure, his veiny hard length pumping restlessly around your soft pink walls while his head rested in the crook of your neck,his sweaty forehead rubbing against your collarbones and his small wet stubby nose grazing against the back of your earlobes.....she would've definitely thought it's a severe case of fever dreams!

"You're my wife y/n and even...even more the bane of my existence, you...you can look at me as long....as long as you want baby" cheol's mouth reverbed against the length of your jaw, imprinting his very own mastered piece of red and purple marks onto any exposed face of your honey skin.

"Cheollie" your gentle dovish coo brings out cheol from the nest of your shoulders and instead lands his dewy melon eyes onto your sultry cat ones.

His ears were refusing to believe what was entitled upon them.....you called him 'cheollie', the very name you used to call him everytime before he fucked up the things with you, the one you cried out while holding onto his hands with your entire life as you gave birth to the daylight of his life, and that exact same name you used to moan under him while he pumped his juices deep inside your womb.

"Can, you, keep, on, calling, me, that, throughout, the, entire, night, today, pls, love?" with each word leaving his mouth, his lips left a following kiss on your face, the last one landing on your forehead.

"You don't know how much I've missed hearing you call me Cheollie, how I've missed your little giggles these days, your cresent smile, those round cheeks pooffing up whenever you become sulky - my second adorable child!" Seungcheol's hands now traveling up your waist through over your dress, the cold metal rings drawing in a sensation you forgot you even had the ability to feel, and finally resting on the bow that was the only lock to the mystical city beneath.

"But most of all, you know what I missed?" bringing up his face from the enchanting sweat of your skin, his eyes now bore their venom into yours, hands still wrapped around your torso. "The taste of this pretty little body of yours"

Even before you could flash him with the red of your cheeks, cheol's hands shift from your back to your hips, landing a tight squeeze on the right one to let you know what your next step is going to be; and as an absolutely obedient wife you quickly catch onto his signals and push up a little to wrap your thighs around his tiny midriff.

Seungcheol walks back with you clutched onto his body like a koala, lips never leaving yours swollen ones as his legs finally hit the footboard of the queen bed.

Twirling on his feet and placing you down upon the satin sheets, oh so carefully as his you were the one last piece of Lorenzo's sculptures; something he can never afford to even tolerate a scratch on; cheol dropped himself on his knees against the velvety red rugs, hands now fixated onto your bare thighs.

"A man is said to be the lucky when his lady has thighs as thick as the towers on a monument" his lips now land onto the soft jiggly mass of your upper legs, hands slowly creeping up towards the boundaries of your panties. "And me? I'm the luckiest to have these supple smooth brawns all to myself"

"Che...cheol ahh fu-" a sharp sting grazes the heat of your skin as seungcheol bites down onto a small mound of your inner things.

"What did I say darling? Didn't i tell you to call me Cheollie, huh? Do you want that slutty cunt of yours to go unattended tonight then princess!" his words make the awaiting river in your pussy finally run free down its source.

"S-sorry cheollie, but ple..please touch me already, I can't take it anymore" your own lewd words were ringing in your ears, making those rosy cheeks become rosier by the time.

"Touch where baby? I need clear words" cheol's mouth is now dangerously close to your throbbing core, while your thighs are left stained with all shades of purple and blue.

"At...at my...ummm...you know" it wasn't your first time having sex with him after childbirth, but it was definitely the first time of him catering to your pleasures and edging you to the brink, which thus made you swallow your words down your throat again.

"Hmm?" another attack from seungcheol finds its targets on you, but this time along the linen of your already wet panties, as his teeth sharply grazed against your clothed clit.

"Fuck it! I need you to touch my pussy please cheollie, it's literally aching at this point!!!" you were never a woman of prolonged patience and that showed up quite well when you brought one of your hands from the sheets to pull onto cheol's freshly smoothed locks....the other staying back to support your arched up back onto the bed.

"That's like my girl, so horny for her man's touch!" seungcheol's hands finally find the hem of your panties, pulling them down your knees meanwhile prepping his fingers to dive right into cunt.

Teasing your sloppy folds with the tip of his slightly outgrown nails, driving you literally nuts from the painful pleasure running throughout the entire length of your sweet petals, the grip on seungcheol's hair getting tighter with every

You were brought out of the lecherous utopia with the sudden contact of a pair of soft silken lips onto the wet ones of yours. To your utter disbelief, cheol was now sucking down on your cunt, something he has done only once, on your wedding night.

"Cheol....Cheollie, what are you-" a finger coated in your slick lands on your ever so talkative pair of crescent flesh.

"Ssshh y/n! You don't know how much I've craved to have the taste of your juices on my tongue!" seungcheol was a secret master of giving oral and now you were brought to acquaint that fact as his tongue worked wonders on your clit, flicking it like it was some piece of food particle stuck in his mouth. With his every suck onto your pussy, your grip of cheol's hair kept tightening to the near extent of pulling the roots out of his scalp.....but he was too drowned in your wetness to even pay heed to his own pain.

"Cheollie I...I am nea...shit" you flooded up his face cavities with your warm discharge, completely unannounced. As cheol slowly brought up his face from the home of your pussy, your eyes got hooked onto the absolute beauty infront of you.

Your husband's face painted finely with your white secretes , a proud smirk creeping up his cum stained lips seeing how insane he's already driven you just with his mouth alone, your skin glowing like a firefly from witnessing your slick is dripping down his chin down to his lap.

"That spawn of devil bestfriend of yours can surely bring a smile on your lips, but bet he can ever see this pleasure stricken face of yours!!! It's only mine to view and only mine to keep. My pretty little slut, aren't you love?!" cheol finally gets up from the floor only to throw himself onto you, his lips entwining with yours for the umpteenth time. But this time there was a kick to the usual hungry approach.

He bites onto your lips, forcing them open just so that he can make you taste your own sweet nectar on your tongue, realise how heavenly your insides taste, why he was driven crazy to devour your cunt you after two years.

"You know even the flowers would wither away from jealousy if they get to know that their honey is nothing compared to yours" seungcheol's hands now playing with the bow of your dress, lips never leaving yours. "But alas they'll never. Cuz I'll be the only one to know how sweet my lady tastes"

"Cheollie I feel empty...i want it now please". From the moment cheol layed down his entire weight on you, you could feel his strained bulge against your stomach, hands finding an excuse to palm them at least once. So as to fuel in your cravings, you tug onto the back of his head to pull him up from your lips and fix his gaze onto your pleading kitten eyes.

"Want what baby?" seungcheol absolutely knew what he was doing, pushing you towards the edge of the cliff only to hear you begging for him or more appropriately his dick . How could you even think that he didn't notice your hand ghosting over the tent in his pants.

"This? Is this what my princess wants?" he takes your hands in his and brings them towards his crotch to finally rest them on this clothed dick.

"Y-yes please. Can't wait" you whimper under him, hands impatiently rubbing circles on his hardness until they're swished away by his, just so that he could finally bring out his aching length to the spotlight.

"This desperate for me honey? Guess I've no other options than to mend to my sweet wife's needs" the smug visible wide on his face as cheol lines up his dick infront of your hole, hands traveling up your torso to undo the bow of the dress and let it fall aside freely; your tanned glazed body now completely bare to his eyes.

"Ready love?" how you wish you could capture the exact moment cheol's eyes turned from all teasing to so soft, asking for your consent to go in, and then turning hungry again when you give an ok nod at him.

Even after being almost moulded into the shape of his cock, your pussy still clenched like shit around his length, as if trying to suck out the last drop of life from his genitals.

"Taking me in so well baby, so fuckin tight" cheol groans between thrusts, feeling your walls close up onto his dick ; hands now playing with your breasts, kneading the supple flesh like a dough with occasional twists of your nipple between his fingers. "Fucked by me so many times yet still not perfectly framed for my cock"

"Guess I've to now leave my dick curved hole into your womb for you to harbor it easy from the next time, or" his eyes light up at the sudden mischievous thought. "Or even better, fill you up with a child so that my imprint is left in there forever, so that i can see you now enjoying your lost childhood with two of my seedlings, so that we can finally change Hana's name after making her an older sister, what say love?"

Your cheeks heat up at his comment. The sheer sight of you carrying his second child, birthing again and giving Hana a sibling just instantly feels you up with pure delight and content.

Your shy little smile and that dreamy expression on your face was enough fuel for cheol to start pumping into you at his maximum pace, putting the bed at a risk of collapsing down under the intense action.

"Gonna look as heavenly as the dawn angel with my child swelling in your belly and as sultry as the night siren with my cum filling up your dirty little hole" maybe it was his words or his high thrusts that you were now close to your second orgasm of the night.

"Am gonna cum cheollie" you look up at him with the most endearing eyes one can ever witness, even in such a lewd position.

"Cum for me baby, cum on my cock, show me how good your husband makes you feel" he picks up his pace again anticipating his own climax soon.

"F..fu-fuck ahh" and with that one last thrust both of you come undone on the cream satin sheets, the thought of paying for the damages next morning never bothering the two as seungcheol was a literal walking atm.

Seungcheol's eyes stay fixed onto your legs at the sight of his cum filling up your gole to the brim and leaking down your marked up thighs. He pushes himself in you for the last few times, making sure to nestle his precious seeds deep inside your womb.

"Couldn't let even a drop of it go to waste, right?" his face paints itself with a victorious smirk as he finally pulls out of you and plops down on the bed by your side ; arms locking you in his embrace as tight as possible while his sweat stained forehead rests on the crater of your shoulders.

"Y-you won't change back again na cheollie?" the post sex doubts hit you and you're now curled up like a ball along his abs, hands gripping onto his with your entire life.

"I know I've fucked up bad y/n and no words of assurance can heal it so soon, but please let me show you through actions now, that how much both of you mean to me. You two are the literal gems of my life love, my most beautiful princesses." cheol gently releases his palms from your hold and places them on the back of your head instead, circling soft gentle pats onto your silky cascades, like a parent comforting their child.

His eyes feebly shoot up to see why you aren't replying, only to find you snoring like a kid in his warmth.

"My cute little kiddo. I will give my everything to protect this family y/n" and with that he places a soft kiss on your forehead before drifting off to his own slumber.

[j-niret]

“ let’s stay in ”

✩‧₊˚ pairing — bf!hyunjin x curvy!gf!reader warnings — fluff, mild mentions of insecurities, lots of kissing and hyunnie being needy for his bby, size kink if you blink??? is pretty suggestive but i wouldn’t say this categorizes as full-on smut tbh

✩‧₊˚ requested? yes!

debuting this acc as my skz writing blog hehe (๑ > ᴗ < ๑) i had fun doing this request! pls lmk your thoughts on this <3

“almost ready yet babe?” hyunjin’s muffled voice through the door asks for the third time in a row. your brain kicks in to panic mode knowing he’s been waiting patiently for the past half hour yet no progress has been made. you were both supposed to meet with chan, changbin, and minho for dinner reservations but you loathed every single thing in your wardrobe right now. nothing was cooperating and you felt a meltdown beginning to transpire with the piles of clothes scattered across your bedroom floor. “y-yeah just um- give me a few more minutes be out in a jiffy!” that was a total lie but at least you stalled for more time. you’ve scoured your whole closet for a nice outfit to wear tonight but today was just not your day… almost everything you tried on was seemingly inadequate, fit weirdly, or accentuated that one particular body part a little too much for the other boys to see.

you huff in frustration, sifting through the tornado of a mess you’ve created, nothing was going your way; you still had no clothes on and hyunjin will start to grow suspicious any minute now. it’s not like you even have ugly clothes either — you buy the cutest stuff that matches your pretty aesthetic. you own a million and one dresses, skirts, frilly tops that hyunjin always says makes you look like a fairy princess, you had endless options but none lived up to your standards in this moment. time was ticking and you were only digging a deeper grave from procrastinating. “y/nnn, what’s taking so lo- you aren’t even dressed yet?!” hyunjin barges through the door without even knocking first. his eyebrows lift in confusion at the sight of you still completely undressed, you attempted to shield your body with your hands but hyunjin glares at your reaction. “what’s to hide? i’ve seen you in much less, no sense in being shy with me now babe.” he teased, snaking his arms around your waist while proceeding to litter kisses all over your flustered face.

usually you’d welcome this type of action with open eager and delight but your mind was being cruel to you, inability to focus on any positive attributes at this point. you wiggled in his arms to let loose from the tight grip he had on you but this only made him question your resistance, “what’s the matter bun?” he asks sweetly, voice notching up several octaves. “nothing’s wrong hyune, why would you think that?” you’re a terrible liar, hyunjin could notice something off with you instantly. “we’ve been dating almost a year now y/n, you can’t think i’m that oblivious to when you’re upset about something… talk to me, i’m here for a reason.” he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, pulling you closer into him. your timid nature makes it harder for you in expressing the way you feel, looking down at your feet clad with a pair of cinnamoroll socks. you hesitate to speak up but it was only fair to be honest with your boyfriend, “i just don’t feel like myself today…” your voice trails, unable to choke up another sentence. “how come? what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” his hands roam your curves, delicately massaging your body. “i don’t necessarily… like the way clothing draws attention to my bum…” you admit, sulking in his arms “i get insecure about how large it is.”

hyunjin couldn’t tell if you were actually being serious or not, is this really something to feel insecure about? he thought to himself. he loves every inch, nook and cranny of you — it was a shock to him you could even think so poorly of yourself. “i’m not sure i understand where you’re coming from.. i mean look at you, you’re literally the cutest girl ever. i adore your body, and you have the nicest bum i’ve ever seen might i add!” he twirls you around to face him, eyes glimmering with twinkles in them as you looks at you. you couldn’t help but pout, although his reassurance was sincere you were still unable to get out of the funk your mind settled in. “heyy, don’t give me that look— turn that frown upside down for me doll.” his finger probes the side of your lip to curl into a faux smile. large, ring clad hands drift down further to scoop your toosh firmly in his palms. puckering his lips for a kiss as he leans down to close the space between you, you scrunch your nose while hesitating to kiss back — you still felt uneasy in your own skin, the sweet sugary taste of him was distracting you well though. you soon melted into his touch, forgetting about your problems once the kiss grew heavier, lips hastily moving together as he squeezes your rear, giving it a light tap to make you squeal in his mouth.

smirking into the kiss, he kneads the plushness of your cheeks while you sigh into him. you were on your tippy toes since his height towered over you like crazy, one of your favorite polar opposites you were most fond of. as you pulled away a huge grin was plastered on the brunette male’s face, admiring you in awe, he still can’t fathom someone as ethereal as you being fully his. “you’re perfect just the way you are babe. i’ll tell you everyday ‘til you get sick and tired of hearing it, even then i won’t stop!” he assures lovingly, “my juicy booty cutiee.” you burst out laughing at that silly little nickname, he never fails to turn your sour mood sweet again. he peppers a soft kiss to your forehead as he rubs your sides, he’ll never get enough of you, truly addicted by your existence.

the buzz of vibrating echoes in the air, interrupting the shared moment between you; hyunjin dug into the back pocket of his jeans to answer his phone. “yello?” he responds, you could faintly hear what you think was changbin on the other end asking if you two were still coming. “ahh right, about that… i think we’re gonna have to skip out on this one hyung, y/n’s not feeling too well right now and i need to take care of her.” your eyes grow wide at the excuse hyunjin came up with, it seems he’s changed his mind about the plans too. uttering a few more things before hanging up he shoves the phone back into his pocket and faces you again. “you know you didn’t have to cancel right? that was rude of you!” you felt slightly guilty but deep down you were relieved. “it’s okay really, let’s stay in and order takeout instead. i’m sure they’ll understand.” he shrugs, voice sounding like honey as he bends down for another quick kiss. “i just want all my attention on you tonight, my darling.”

[midnightanxietytm]

He takes his whiskey neat

A/N: Look, I think i was possessed while writing this one /j. It was like 1 am and I was procrastination on college work, I dunno what happened but this is the ungodly spawn of my imagination mixed with sleep deprivation, caffeine and stress. Enjoy and don't question it too much

Contents: Ford Pines x reader, pinning (lots of pining), I pictured reader in their late 40s to early 50s so there is an age gap but nothing extreme. There's some plot in those holes. uhhh lots of tension and no payoff because im pretty sure I passed out before I got to that part.

Word count: 996

There’s this look on his eyes now that you can’t quite figure out.

Ever since Stanford Pines came back from the portal, ever since weirdmageddon and the end of that fateful summer, something about him fundamentally changed. There’s contempt, relief, sure, but there's more to it, something that he keeps deep in that rattling metal-protected brain of his.

And god forbid sometimes you just want to pick him apart entirely, figure out every detail, note it down, absorb it, maybe then his mere presence won’t entice you, mess you, so goddamn much.

It culminates, as all events are bound to do, right before that year’s summer vacation, you blame the heat. 

Soos and Melody took a vacation for themselves, entrusting the shack back to Stan’s less than trustworthy hands, just like old times. Ford slips back into the basement so easily you almost follow him; your mind briefly longing for that nostalgia of being freshly out of college, when you and Ford were easily impressed by the oddness of the world.

You were a prodigy; a good ten years younger than him yet still doing your masters while he did his doctorate, and in the same area with similar themes! Back then, you two were just bright-eyed yet very tired academics… Then Gravity Falls presented itself on a silver platter, and Bill followed through.

You were there, on the day of the portal, or at least, almost there, going back for the thousandth time, expecting no answer to your knocks at the door as usual, only to be met with the fallout of something far worse than refusal.

And then he was back, less jittery, less paranoid and less sleep deprived than he was before at least. But there was that thing in his eyes, that inherent distrust, detachment…? You struggled to find the words and if there’s one thing that you as a scientist can’t deal with is a question that goes unresearched.

So it began; your “research” depended on experiment and to experiment, you firstly decided to get close to your unwilling subject. And you go down the rabbit hole.

You find him in the basement, of course. He’s drawing on loose sheets of paper, some of the discarded pieces lay on the floor, and the cd player by his side is playing just loud enough to muffle your footsteps as you approach him by his right side. “Updating the journal?” You ask, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't obsessively turned each page of his journals before, as if your own handwriting wasn’t squeezed in the first ones before his old muse took all the space left.

Ford just hums, raising his chin slightly, but not his eyes, just to acknowledge the question. “Not really, just trying to get some proportion practice. Looking back, some of my work on the first journal was… Not the best.” 

A chuckle leaves your mouth; “If you say so…” You hum, picking up one of the filled out pages that were pushed aside in the table and pretending to look it over as he places his pen down and looks up at you.

“Any advice?” He asks, and once again you pretend to be paying attention to anything but him and his every movement.

“Not really… I think you’re good.” You place the paper back at the table, leaning against it. “Thought you’d be going through your abstract phase by now, honestly.” And you smirk down at him.

He leans back, crossing his arms; “I fear I’m too logical to have an abstract phase, even my craziest dreams have math and science behind them.” And you both laugh, and your curiosity itches more and more every millisecond.

The next words that leave your mouth were planned and inwardly rehearsed, but they come out natural as a summer breeze. “Every tortured artist has an abstract phase, get on with the times, sixer!” It comes out as a joke, it's a test. And suddenly you’re too nervous to stay there, staring at him and waiting for a rebuttal. You push yourself off the table and zipline to one of the bookshelves, reaching towards the back of it, you pull the ‘eureka whiskey’ and the two cups.

He just watches you for a second, then accepts the cup as you pour him one, then one for yourself. 

And it’s truly the eureka whiskey, because goddamn you just found something in those eyes. 

He takes a sip; “Yeah I guess those portal days would do for some good surrealist pieces at least.”

“I can’t even imagine.” You say.

He smirks, lips inches from his cup. “You can’t…” He takes a sip. “That’s the point of surrealist.” You want his brain under a microscope, you want his breath mixing with yours, you want to never see him again, you want to wake up near him every day.

The curse of science is that in the endeavor to figure out the world, the scientist often loses sight of themselves. 

The witty remarks, the planned lines, the psychological strategies, all fly out of you head and you lean back against his desk. He’s leaned further back now and his chair is turned diagonally towards you and he watches with a smile and those eyes. “What did you see?” It’s almost a whisper, because you think he might actually tell you, and that scares you more than anything.

“Too much…” He swallows, sighs, takes a swing of whiskey and rests the empty cup on the desk. “It was very chaotic, honestly that’s all I want to say…” You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit at his desk, and his head tilts as he watches you. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” You settle, even though it doesn’t even come near to all the things you want to express. He smiles, and his eyes travel down, landing on your hands, holding your barely touched whiskey glass. You follow his gaze, and chuckle. “I’m more of a whine person.”

“I know…”

[pimosworld]

Tango

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary-It only takes a little push for you and Frankie to stop dancing around each other.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW,Smut, horrible date, tf boys being protective, cursing,angst,comfort, fingering, unprotected piv,cream pie,soft-dom Frankie,sweet aftercare. Reader is not race coded and photo does not represent reader.

WK-4k

A/N-I wrote this as a procrastination for my actual wips. Please enjoy my obsession with the tf boys being protective and as always hints of fishben.

Not beta read

————-

The bar is dark save for the few flashing lights of the music from the DJ booth. The thick humid air makes it hard to breathe as you belt out your favorite song while grinding on Santis flavor of the week. 

  It always went this way, you’d be the perfect wing woman for him, dancing with some person until you got tired and Santi would swoop in to take your place, and for a night or a few weeks you’d have a friend to accompany you on the dance floor while the boys nursed their beers. 

  You’ve been seeing this guy James casually for a few weeks that you met out one night on your own, but he wasn’t going to stop you from your weekly ritual of dancing out the stresses of your daily life. The guys seemed to tolerate him enough to invite him out, which is how you found yourself on the dance floor with ‘Francesca’ as they sat in the booth trying to look impressed with whatever your date was saying. 

  Pope was a Tom cat and had no issues picking up people but in his words ‘I love to watch you work your magic’. You couldn’t lie, it was exhilarating to be wanted by anyone. It’s not just a sexual attraction, it’s a rush when you can connect with someone on a different level. Inevitably once you introduced them to Santiago they would fall immediately but not before inviting you to join which you were adamant about not crossing that line with him-for now. 

  “She’s something else.” The sarcasm in his tone is completely lost on Frankie as he watches you and Santi’s soon to be hookup captivate the dance floor. 

  He can see it in their eyes, the way you make people feel like they're the only ones in the room with you. He thinks you’ve looked at him that way but he can’t be sure he wasn’t just seeing things. 

  “Ya she is.” It was supposed to be spoken in his head but evidently he said it out loud.

  Will shoots him a look but your date hardly notices the way he said it with such longing in his voice. He knows, they all know that Frankie has loved you forever. It seems the only one oblivious to this is you. 

  “I mean it’s hot if she’s not your girlfriend but if she is…” Suddenly all attention is on him and he doesn’t even notice. The tension starts to rise at the table like lions ready to pounce and he’s the innocent prey none the wiser. 

  “If she is then…what?” Will speaks first, the stoic one usually wanting to avoid confrontation for fear of losing his temper, except when it comes to you. 

  “Come on, you don’t mean to tell me you’d be ok with the way she’s acting in public if she was your girlfriend?” 

  “Did I miss something?” Ben turns to face James, seated conveniently next to him and Will subtly grabs his arm giving a light squeeze as a warning. This guy is not worth it. 

  “She’s just dancing right?” He looks around the table as Will scrubs his face with his hands and Santi is too enraptured with you and Francesca on the dance floor to notice Frankie’s hard set jaw and crossed arms staring daggers at your date.

  “Ya she’s dancing…she’s almost exposed half the room to her ass and it looks like they’re going to fuck right there on the dance floor.” Santi finally looks over at him tearing his eyes away from you and then to Frankie with a sly grin on his face. 

  “This pendejo got a problem?” 

  “No problem man,I just don’t know how comfortable you’d be with your girl acting like that.” Frankie digs his nails into his palm, sure to draw blood as he fights the urge to lunge across the table and teach this guy how to talk about women. 

  “If you’re upset about it you should definitely say somethin’.” The guys all turn to Will, mischievous grins on their face knowing what a massacre he was walking into. 

  You direct your gaze to the table completely oblivious to the conversation happening about you as Frankie smiles. His deep brown eyes look at you as if you’re the only one in the room. His signature cap turned backwards, encasing his curls. You’re locked in a trance almost forgetting about your date who you’ve left alone for quite some time with them. The guy wouldn’t even be here if you thought there was a chance with Frankie. 

  Most days you push those thoughts away, he was your best friend and if he wanted to be anything more he would make a move. 

  You grab Francesca’s hand to lead her over to the table, it is definitely time for a break and perhaps another drink while you rejoin Santi and the guys.

  ——

“You boys thirsty cause I am?” Will nudges Benny to move so he can slide out of the booth.

  “Next rounds on me sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead as he heads to the bar.

  You sit beside Frankie and you’re acutely aware of the dull ache in your feet, you groan as you rub your heel under the table. 

  “I take it you’re not joining us on the dance floor.” 

  “No Santiago, you go have fun.” Frankie resists the urge to rest his arm on the seat behind you as he always does when you’re next to each other. 

  Santi and Francesca head to the dance floor as you lean into Frankie momentarily forgetting your date.

   “It’s probably best if you take a break from embarrassing yourself anyway.” It feels like all the air has left your lungs as you glance over at your date in utter shock. 

  Benny gets a look in his eye you’ve never seen before as he leans across the table coming face to face with him. “I think the only one embarrassing themselves is you.” 

  James looks over at you now fully curled into Frankie’s side, his arm now draped across your shoulder with a gentle grip letting you know he’s there if you need him. 

  “Oh I see what’s happening here.” He gestures between the two of you and Ben. “Do you guys take turns or how does that work?” 

  Before you can blink Benny has his collar curled up in his fists as he pulls him out of the booth. 

  Will ditches the drinks at the bar to run over and grab Ben before you’re all kicked out. 

  “I was gone for two seconds, what happened?” Ben releases his collar shoving him into the table as Will stands between the two. 

  “Ben was just giving him a lesson in how to talk to women.” Frankie’s calm tone is a stark contrast to the feral look in his eyes as he stares him down just waiting for him to say something stupid again. 

  He hasn’t released his grip on you and you’ve all but melted into his embrace as you try not to focus on his calloused hand rubbing circles on your shoulder as the other picks nervously at the label on his beer. 

  “I’m out of here, you guys can have her.” He brushes past Will, not bothering to look in your direction. In true coward form he calls over his shoulder just far enough away from Benny. “She doesn’t put out anyway.” 

  “Fucking jackass.” They all turn to you as you’ve seemed to have found your voice again. 

  “Don’t worry about guys like that hermosa, they don’t deserve you.” His eyes have softened again as he looks at you, there’s a pull that you can’t resist forming between the two of you and you don’t want to fight it anymore. 

  He’s not sure if you're aware or if you were subconsciously rubbing your hand along his thigh to calm yourself. It’s having the opposite effect on him as a slow burning heat builds in his stomach, you’re inching your hand further and further and his cock twitches as his body betrays him. You take in a sharp inhale and he bites down hard on his bottom lip to suppress the groan threatening to spill out. 

  Will clears his throat getting your attention again as you glance at Benny with a wide grin on his face practically bouncing on his feet from the adrenaline. 

  “I’m gonna grab those drinks I left before I had to wrangle rocky over here.” 

  Ben slides in next to you caging you in against Frankie, personal space was not the boy's strong suit. 

  “Thank you.” He looks down at you with those big blue eyes. 

  “What are you thanking me for, sweetheart?” 

  “For defending my honor of course.” Frankie’s laugh reverberates through your body filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling. 

  “Don’t thank him, he loves doing shit like that.” Benny flips him off as Will returns to the table with the drinks, Santi and his date walk up still catching their breath from dancing. 

  “Fish should be thanking me for getting rid of him.”

  “Ben.” Will's warning has him throwing his hands up in mock surrender. You almost miss the look Frankie sends him, a silent conversation between the two that looked as close to thank you as it could get. 

  “For the record I do put out, he was just having some performance issues.” Santis eyes go wide at the comment as the rest of the table erupts in laughter. 

  “I definitely missed something cariño.”

  “Nothing much just Ben taking out the trash.” He finally notices your absent date and your close proximity to Frankie and claps his brother on the shoulder. 

  “Finally you two idiotas can stop dancing around each other.” Heat creeps up your neck at the thought of your crush being more obvious than you previously knew. 

  It relaxes you a little to see the redness on Frankie’s face as he’s been outed as well. He doesn’t deny it and that sends a rush of confidence through your body. 

  “I would never trust a man who didn’t like the sight of two beautiful women dancing with each other.” He looks at his date and she practically has hearts in her eyes for him. Some may say he laid in on a little thick but they fell for it every time. 

  Frankie adjusts again and your hand brushes against the bulge straining on his jeans. You give a light squeeze to test the waters and he leans down close to your ear. “You’re killing me right now, I hope you know that.”

  “Do you want to get out of here?” He nods at you and drops his arm from your shoulder to grab your hand to help you out of the booth. 

  “Where are you two going?” Benny looks like a wounded puppy as his brother leans back crossing his arms smiling sweetly at the two of you. 

  “My feet are killing me, Frankie’s gonna take me home.” Decent enough excuse not that it mattered, they all knew where you were going. 

  “You’re leaving without me?” 

  “Ben!” Santi and Will say in unison and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his incessant teasing. 

  “Maybe next time Ben.” Frankie shoots you a look as you shrug your shoulders. “He thought you two were sharing me anyway.” 

  “Ok I definitely missed something.” Santi and his date slide into your unoccupied seats as you and Frankie say your goodbyes. 

  You’re buzzing with nervous excitement as you walk through the bar hand in hand. He’s keeping you so close, a constant reminder of his protective nature.

  You’ve almost made it to the door before a large hand pulls you back slightly startling you. Frankie turns to see Ben holding your other hand placing a kiss on top.

  “I’m holding you to what you said.” You roll your eyes as you look up at Frankie whose patience is wearing painfully thin. 

  “Good night Benjamin.” He says through gritted teeth as he pulls you outside. You both laugh as you jog to his truck to try and make a break for it before he comes back for more. 

  He opens the door for you as he’s done a thousand times, you lift yourself up into the seat and before you can grab it he’s already buckling you in. He hesitantly pulls back as his hand brushes along your thigh. You instinctively close your legs but his hand gently pries them open as he runs his fingers higher under the hem of your dress. 

  His eyes haven’t left yours as he waits for you to tell him to stop but you don’t. Your chest is rising and falling and the slow drag of anticipation is building the heat in your core. You don’t care that you’re still in the parking lot as he touches his fingers to your soaked center. 

  He silences the soft whimper leaving your lips as he crashes his into yours. You swallow a groan as you bite down softly on his bottom lip. 

  “Are you this wet for me?” You nod against his lips as he moves your panties to the side dragging a finger through your slit. 

  “This is what you were doing to me hermosa.” He had a point but you definitely weren’t this graphic. It’s so depraved it shouldn't be turning you on this much. The thought of being caught has a fresh wave of slick coating his fingers. 

  “I want you to come right here.” He dips two fingers in pumping slowly at first as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. 

  You’re panting in his mouth as your hips try to leave the seat. The buckle restricts your movements and the heavy weight of his other palm on your hip.

  It would look to the outside like he’s talking to you with the door open as he uses his body to shield what he’s doing. 

  A familiar feeling is building in your center as he picks up his pace, coaxing you on with hushed words. You’re a whimpering mess while you grip his shoulder as he calls you his good girl.

  “Oh my god Frankie.”

  “That’s it hermosa come on, I know you can do it.” He’s growling in your ear as he rolls his hips into the seat for friction. 

  You don’t think anyone’s ever made you feel like this with just their hands as a wave of pleasure shoots through you. He presses down on that bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars and you’re stifling your moans into his neck as you come down from your high. 

  He kisses you soft and sweet as if he didn’t just take you apart in the parking lot of this bar. He pulls his fingers from you leaving an empty ache that you can’t wait to be filled. He brings them up to his mouth and drags them between his lips, humming at the taste. 

  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” His confession and lust blown eyes have you momentarily flustered. 

  You grab his neck pulling him into you as you lick into his mouth tasting yourself on his tongue. After waiting so long the desperation for each other is seeping through every fiber of your being as he devours your lips like his last meal. 

  You pause for a moment as he rests his forehead on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

  “If we don’t leave now we won’t hear the end of it from Ben.” He plants a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls away and closes your door. You’re grinning to yourself at the thought of explaining to any of them why you were still in the parking lot. 

  ——

  The ride to your house is less heated than your previous exchange but it’s almost better than that. His hand hasn’t left your thigh as he focuses on the road occasionally glancing over to you. You can’t stop looking over at him and his backwards hat doing wild things to your imagination.

  The silence is filled with so much tension as you think about finally having something you’ve wanted for so long. 

  He pulls into your driveway, mirroring so many things he’s done before yet this time as he comes around to open your door and help you out you can feel the desperation. He’s crowding behind you as you make your way to the door, his hands caress your hips as you struggle with shaky hands to unlock it. 

  As you enter he spins you around pressing his body to yours against the door, his breath is hot on your neck as he trails kisses along it down to your collarbone and pulls at the fabric of your dress with his teeth. 

  You throw his hat somewhere behind him as you finally run your fingers through his soft locks, he moans into your chest as you tug him further into you. Every nerve in your body is on the edge waiting to be pushed over. 

  He lifts your leg over his hip as he grinds into you, his hard cock straining through his jeans as he rubs it against you. You reach between you to unbuckle his pants and dip your hand under the waistband of his boxers, desperate to feel the soft skin of his cock as you wrap your fingers around it. 

  “Fuck.” He’s panting into your neck as he cants his hips helping you stroke him over and over. He gently grabs your wrist stilling your movements. “I’m not gonna last if you don’t stop.”

  “Bedroom?” Your voice comes out more timid than you like but he insistently nods his head as he gets a look in his eyes that you’ve only seen a handful of times. 

  You withdraw your hand and step out of your heels, he thinks you’re going to lead the way as you lightly push against his chest trailing your fingers down to put some distance between you but he sees a moment flash in your eyes as you take off towards the bedroom. 

  You may have had the element of surprise but just briefly as you hear loud footsteps quickly approaching. You’re giggling like some teenager as you round the corner to your bedroom. His hands are on your waist pulling you hard into his chest. “You’re going to pay for that.” He’s growling into your ear, breathing heavy behind you as he pulls your dress over your head. 

  You turn in his arms and graze your fingers under the hem of his shirt, lightly brushing the soft skin of his belly. He shudders under your touch as you lift it over his head. 

  This dance you’re doing with each other feels practiced like you’ve done it a thousand times. You don’t think after tonight you’ll be able to walk away not needing and wanting this everyday. 

  He walks you backward until your legs hit the bed, he gestures his fingers for you to scoot back as he strips down to nothing. He’s standing hard and naked in front of you, eyes boring into you hungrily like he wants to devour you. 

  He dips his knee onto the bed as he trails his fingers up your calf, leaning down to place kisses along your thighs and your stomach as he works his way up. He pauses between your breasts and you can feel his cock twitch against your clothed core. A half whine leaves your lips as he sucks hard on your nipple while his hand teases the other. 

  “Patience…I told you I was gonna make you pay for that hermosa.” Surely chasing you a few feet down a small hallway doesn’t equal the teasing he’s putting you through but you don’t want this to be over quickly so you will yourself to relax. 

  He tucks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips as he slides them down your legs discarding them somewhere behind him. He leans back a little as he spreads your legs wide exposing your dripping folds to him. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” 

  He grips the base of his cock, the tip is red and angry steadily leaking precum as he pumps himself over you groaning at the way your pussy clenches in anticipation. He drags the tip through your slit without pressing in, the sensation is too much and not enough as you try to raise your hips. He presses you down hard into the mattress with his other hand as his lips crash into yours swallowing your whimpers of frustration.

  “I like those little noises you make…I might just keep playing with you for a while.”  He teases your entrance just barely pressing into your core and then slowly pulls away. He chuckles into your neck at the loud mewl you let out.

  He’s trying to kill you. If you died this way it would be worth it. 

  “Frankie…” Your attempt at begging is cut off as he buries himself to the hilt, he’s so thick and the stretch is almost too much but he slowly starts to rock his hips and you both let out a sigh of relief as your body finally relaxes. Your legs spread wider to wrap around his waist as your feet press against his ass to pull him in closer. 

  “Fuck this pussy feels like heaven.” He moans into your neck as he picks up his pace, you can feel every ridge of his cock through your walls as you clench down hard on him, the sounds coming from him only spur you on more as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. 

  He grabs your hands placing them above your head as he looks between you watching where your bodies meet. You’re shaking beneath him as your climax quickly approaches, he leans down kissing you and swallowing every moan that leaves your lips. 

  His pace is faltering and you can tell he’s right on the edge with you. You lock your fingers with his still placed above your head as you whisper praises into his ear and chants of his name. 

  “Come with me Frankie.” The breathless tone of your voice and the lone tear falling down your face as you come hard, clenching down on him. It’s like a firework behind your eyes as he shouts your name into your neck grinding his hips once and twice before he collapses his weight on top of you. 

  You lay there a while rubbing soothing lines up and down his sweaty back as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “I’m crushing you.” He tries to slide off you but you cage him in with your legs not yet ready to face the moment where he might leave. 

  “Just a little bit longer please?” He kisses your lips as an answer. Swollen and puffy from the night's activities but so soft in his own way. 

  He eventually pulls away from you as he retreats to your bathroom, you can faintly hear the sound of running water as sleep tries to claim you. He returns with a washcloth as he delicately wipes your thighs and your folds with such care that you almost cry. No one’s ever cared for you like this after sex. It’s a shame how foreign it feels. 

  “It would probably be more comfortable if we slept under the covers.” He’s trying to tug them back as you register what he’s saying. 

  “You want to stay?” He pauses at your words perhaps a little forward in assuming you wanted him to.

  “Of course…only if you want.” You crawl under them faster than you realize and pat the spot next you where you normally have a mountain of pillows. 

  He slides in perfectly as he pulls you flush against him, his slow breaths fanning the back of your neck as he starts to fall asleep. 

  The unspoken rhythm of this dance finally finds its voice between you. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[lyney-s-bitch]

two great minds came together and came up with this request: neuvilette as a priest (see the genshin halloween art) x female goth!reader that seduces him 🤭 MAKE IT UNHOLYYYYYY

yeahhh I’ve been procrastinating this for quite a while LMAO, but I didn’t wanna leave you guys hanging - so just take it and run with it😀🏃🏻‍♀️‍➡️

also I’m rusty af and had no ✨imagination✨ here don’t @ me

—————

Priest!Neuvillette x (fem) Goth!Reader || vaguely 18+

• Neuvillette certainly was the type to be drawn to innocence and purity, absolutely nothing dark or sinful, God forbid

• frankly, when you first came to his church, he had to overthink his entire existence

• part of him had hoped for you to come back soon, and the other part had hoped to never see you again so he wouldn’t be forced to go down that rabbit hole

• but you didn’t do him that favor, I mean how could you? there’s no way you’d be able to resist this gorgeous man regularly preaching his faith to the "sinners"

• everything about him made you want to ruin the respectably imposing yet incredibly gentle man, made you want to see him lose all of his composure just for you

• you knew he was certainly no stranger to tears, albeit silent ones, but whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help craving to hear him cry out for you, for your touch and care

• he instilled the strong desire in you to make him forget all about his God - you were determined to be the only thing plaguing his mind from now on

• Neuvillette wasn’t actively practicing celibacy, he merely had other things on his mind rather than such impure things… well, up until now

• and when you showed up one night in order to confess your unholy attraction to him?? it was as if a long-corroded dam inside of him had broken, and every fiber of his being felt like it had suddenly been enlightened in the most obscure way possible, thoughts of him doing… things to you flooding his mind like an unstoppable cascade

• he couldn’t help but wonder… what would your soft skin feel like under the touch of his hands? what would you taste like, sound like? what would you look like, all disheveled beneath him?

• yet the sane and rational parts of his mind hindered him from actually acting upon these thoughts himself - he wouldn’t allow himself to act against his strong sense of responsibility

• but what would happen if you were to push his buttons just right…?

~~~

…he might just indulge you in a moment of weakness, allowing himself to be greedy and for you to corrupt him just this once

…he might allow you to slide your sinfully sharp nails beneath his robe, run them along his skin in a gentle, yet undoubtedly demanding manner

…he might let you hear his soft noises of enjoyment whenever you‘d get near a particularly sensitive area, whenever you’d bury your hands in his silky hair and tug on it ever so slightly to make sure you still had his full, undivided attention

…he might touch you in all the places you’ve been craving him, carefully and meticulously following your instructions and letting you guide him through the entire process in order to please you to the best of his abilities

…he might tentatively run his tongue along your most sensitive spots, in a hesitant yet exhilarated manner, his every movement getting more daring with every sweet noise of pleasure he’d be able to draw from your lips

…he might not let up until he would be satisfied, which would only be the case when he’d be certain you were absolutely spent and could not bear another touch

~~~

• …or he might not.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Metamorph

Part II

Pairing: art teacher!Aemond Targaryen x reader (Horror AU)

Warnings: dark!Aemond, obsessive behavior, murder, horror, yandere, kidnapping, misanthropy, general creepy stuff.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Drawn to the artworks of one of the most esteemed artists in the city, you wish to learn from him and find out what inspires him to create his masterpieces. You have no idea how much his secrets will cost you.

Part I

____________

It seemed no one was surprised with your revered art teacher being moody even on the very first day of the course. Aemond quite literally looked at your small group, winced, sighed, and proceeded with the rules, starting with punctuality and no phones in class. The more he talked, the more you felt like you just signed up to join the army.

While most artists you had known were all chaos personified, Aemond Targaryen turned out to be incredibly collected, meticulous, and obsessively neat. When you had finally entered his little studio - one of many in the building - you saw carefully assembled jars with paint, packs of pencils, canvases, and stacks of paper placed on the tables in such manner as if your teacher was Marie Kondo in the flesh. Moreover, the place was pristinely clean, like in a real estate commercial. Was it because it was your first lesson and he wanted to give you a good impression?

Certainly not. Aemond couldn't care less about anyone's opinion, that much was clear.

He started by giving you a simple composition to see the way each of you worked, and watching him going from a student to student to check on their progress, you froze in your seat. It just struck you Aemond Targaryen was going to see you draw. Which was the whole point, yes, but it scared the hell out of you as you imagined he saw your lack of talent and kicked you out of class immediately. Now, that would be a complete catastrophe, a blow your ego absolutely couldn't take.

When he had finally come up to you, you were shaking lightly in your seat with not a single thing drawn on the paper.

"Procrastinating, are we?" He bent down to look at a completely white sheet and then at you, arching a brow.

You nearly jolted up, gripping the pencil hard so that he wouldn't see your hands trembling from anxiety. You were so scared of him being harsh on you. If one of the very few people you looked up to said you were untalented, how could you live with it?

"I'm sorry, Sir! I'm just afraid I'll build the composition wrong."

What the hell? Sir? Where did it come from? What nonsense were you spouting just now?

But your teacher didn't look even remotely bothered by it or by your white sheet of paper, instead eyeing your hands shaking despite your best efforts to conceal your nervousness. He didn't exactly comfort you or anything, but he put his hand on your shoulder for a split second, squeezed it, and said, "It's fine if you get it wrong. Just draw."

Aemond nodded to you as if confirming his words, and you nodded in return, forcing yourself to take a deep breath once he retreated to the next student. He said it's alright. Mistakes are fine. Surely, you could do it, and he wouldn't berate you for it. You came here to study, and your teacher already knew your weak and strong sides based on the artworks you had submitted. Anyway, you could hardly embarrass yourself more after the "sir" episode, a couple of students giving you a side-eye.

So, you did draw, and it was fine. Not perfect, with many further corrections, but fine. Aemond didn't say anything humiliating about your composition: in fact, despite the poisonous impression he gave you the first time you see him at the gallery, he wasn't tough on anyone in the class.

The next lesson was fine, too. And the one after that. Aemond being a strict teacher was putting it lightly, but he didn't seem to want to bully anyone regardless of his numerous snarky remarks whenever his students made him angry. He didn't get upset at your mistakes, no. You were here to learn, he said when you were holding your breath, anxious to hear his judgment, but your teacher was never too harsh on you. Instead, he commended you on your diligent work. Teaching you to work hard and constantly improve yourselves was one of the main goals of his course, he announced after he kicked out one of the students, a young man named Alfred who didn't seem to be putting enough efforts in his drawings and had too much of a cheerful personality for Aemond to handle.

To be honest, your teacher had still been horrifying the first couple of lessons, and you ended up constantly calling him Sir whenever he spoke to you, despite your embarrassment. Apparently, your weird brain just refused to recognize him as anyone else. Extremely ashamed, you then tried not to make a sound to let your teacher forget about you so you would continue in complete silence. It seemed like it worked because he had never called out your weird wording. Clearly, he didn't enjoy working with people, but he was still putting up with your and everybody else's nonsense for the sake of teaching, which was commendable on its own.

But maybe he also wasn't as bad as he wanted to look. He gave everyone very detailed recommendations on what materials were better to buy and why, explained his own routine and what helped him to concentrate, and even shared some of his personal drawing techniques. Most of the students nearly fainted, you included. The way Aemond used a pencil was enough to drive you to orgasm. God knows what could happen when you'd start painting in color with him breathing down your neck.

Oh, the way he silently moved between the students' seats from one person to the other, staring intently at their canvases like he was reading their crime histories. How he spoke in a clear, firm voice, always sarcastic and alarmingly perceptive but not cruel. When he was taking a brush in his long, slender fingers, you felt the urge to squeak like a schoolgirl secretly watching her crush.

Aemond Targaryen was scary but unbelievably artistic, and you were ready to stay in his class even if he told you the red paint he was using was the blood of his enemies.

Actually, speaking about the mysterious paint, he finally shared some of it with the students by the beginning of the second month, giving you a new task.

"You'll be drawing my figure," he simply stated as ten pairs of hungry eyes stared at him, unblinking. "You are not allowed to change anything in my silhouette except for the color, but you can draw whatever background you deem necessary. Your task is to think of a transformation of a human being and convey your idea mainly with the use of your paint. If I see something stupid like you drawing me with a red heart or red lips, I will kick you out of class."

You stilled on the spot, nervously biting your lips to bits. Drawing Aemond Targaryen. You could stare at him however long you wanted, and it'd be perfectly alright because it's literally the purpose of the lesson.

___________

If you wouldn't be having a heart attack from all the feels, that is.

Part III

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

[crimsonedquill]

Their reaction to your battle scars during Steamy Time (Pt. 2) (Hogwarts Legacy)

Link to part 1

Here it is at last, the much-requested sequel featuring our holy trifecta of soft bois!

I’ll admit I struggle with writing for Amit and Garreth (it’s why I’m often procrastinating on requests for them, sorry loves 😭) but this turned out surprisingly well I think!

Also, Imelda has been excluded because I’m doing a separate requested fic with a similar premise for her.

Content warning: NSFW (18+). Some smut here and there, nothing too descriptive.

Sebastian Sallow 🐍

“That’s it, love, show me that cumming face…”

You honestly still find yourself a little amazed at all the things Sebastian’s hands seem to be capable of sometimes. As far as you can recall, there hasn’t been a single time between the sheets that didn’t end with you as a tangled sweaty mess, sculpted like clay under his experienced fingertips. Right now, for example, he’s fingering you so good that it’s slightly surprising you’ve only had five orgasms so far.

The Slytherin is looking up at you with a ravenous gaze, loving the sight of your body falling apart before his eyes. His free hand is caressing you through your sweater, your bottom garments having been lost to your throes of passion a long time ago. You love how much he always seems to want you, barely able to keep his hands off you even before you have stumbled your way into the bedroom. To others it may seem purely physical, but there’s always been a deeper element to his affection, a kind of protectiveness that never fails to have you melt at the soothing tone of his voice alone.

He’s chuckling now, his hand wandering while the other is preoccupied trashing you to your release. “Almost there, aren’t you, love? Go ahead… cum for your Sebby…”

The tiniest of smirks forms on your lips, remembering his hate for the nickname, though he never seems to be able to resist using it to hasten your climax. Sure enough, with a few more plunges of his fingers you crash over the edge, crying out his name as he kisses your neck.

As you come down from your euphoric high and Sebastian settles down next to you, you notice the pensive look on his face. You reach out to touch his hand. “Anything the matter?”

“Hm?” He looks at you. “Oh, no, not really. I suppose I was just wondering… well, you do trust me, right?”

You frown at the unexpected question. “Of course I trust you. Why, did I do anything to suggest otherwise?”

“No, you didn’t, I just –” He sighs, struggling with his words. “Look, I’ll be honest. I love you, I love your body, I love making you feel good. But every time we are having sex these days, it feels like there’s a… barrier between us. You’re holding back, for some reason, and I can’t help but think… is it me?”

You quickly sit up, your eyes widening. “No, Sebastian, I – no, of course not!”

“Then what is it?” His brown eyes are worried, full of tender concern. You know he would never judge you, and yet you‘ve never found it in you to be truly open with him.

“I…” You avert your gaze, inadvertently looking down at your torso. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

His hands find yours, fingers intertwining. “Tell me, then.”

Perhaps it’s the slightly commanding tone in his voice, or the way he’s touching you, providing you a sense of comfort you find hard to ignore. Either way, you draw a deep breath.

“I –“ Your voice shudders, the words sounding hopelessly pathetic as you speak them, “I don’t think I’m pretty.”

There’s a silence in the room as Sebastian considers the meaning of your confession. You’d expect him to laugh, or to tell you that you’re mad. Though if he’s thinking any of those things, his face isn’t showing it.

“Really?” he then asks, sounding more surprised than anything.

You nod feebly. You can’t help it. Ever since you were marked by the battles you’ve fought a long time ago, you were so afraid to be with anyone that meeting Sebastian seemed like a gift from heaven. You never wanted to risk losing him, even if it meant obscuring the truth.

He shifts so that he’s more or less sitting opposite you, catching your gaze even as you try to look away. “You said you trusted me, didn’t you?”

You just nod again, too shy to say anything. You freeze up as his fingers slide under your sweater, nails grazing lightly across your skin.

“Lift your arms for me?” He sounds so kind, so warm, like a glow enveloping you like a blanket, safe from the world. You comply, feeling your skin being exposed inch by inch.

“Easy,” he coos. “Slow breaths. Keep your eyes on me.”

And then your sweater is gone, and you sit there, perfectly bare. You cross your arms across your chest in a futile gesture, a dark flush spreading down from your face as you feel Sebastian observing you, seeing you.

He’s surprisingly quiet. No words of surprise, no jokes. He’s simply sitting there, letting his eyes wander. Then he reaches out.

“May I?” he inquires, looking up at you for your approval as he places a hand on your arm. You allow him to uncross your arms, closing your eyes and turning your head away as the anxiety becomes to heavy to bear. Surely he must be disappointed. He’s just too kind to show it.

Then you suddenly feel a hand cupping your cheek. He kisses your jawline, slowly, provoking a sigh as you feel part of your tenseness leaving you. He gently lays you back on the bed, finally causing you to open your eyes, met by the sight of his warm smile.

“Dear,” he says, in a half-chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine, “you are beautiful.”

And then his lips are on your collarbone, and your response is lost in a moan as he begins exploring you, nursing every bare inch. He kisses every scar, tracing the crude lines down your chest, your abdomen, your nether region. As he inches ever so closer to your sensitive spot, your fingers finding their way into his messy hair, you realise something.

You feel pretty. And it’s the last clear thought you have before you close your eyes and give yourself away to the waves of your shared pleasure.

Amit Thakkar 🦅

“May I kiss you?”

He’s sitting opposite you on the bed, his voice slightly high-pitched, trembling with anticipation. Even though you have always been good at projecting confidence at the very least, your skill seems to fail you today as you nod shyly, feeling your heart swell in your chest as his lips approach yours.

The kiss is… surprisingly adequate. Nothing special, though certainly not the disaster you had been anticipating. If anything, it’s even a little… arousing, the way he tenderly moves his tongue, using it to part your lips and seek contact with yours. Sure, it’s not like you haven’t kissed before, but even so he seems far more in control of his movements than you are. A sudden thought crosses your mind as you move slowly on the rhythm of your kiss; that somehow, Amit is more ready for this than you are.

It feels… odd, to say the least. Normally you are the assertive one, always taking charge while Amit is content with following you around. That he is the one guiding you now in these most vulnerable of moments is one you definitely didn’t see coming.

You separate, the both of you blushing. “Was that… good?” Amit asks.

You nod. “Yeah… yeah, it was.”

His face lights up, almost eliciting a chuckle from you. He’s always happy to receive great marks.

“So… can I touch you now?”

It takes a little longer for you to give your approval than when he asked to kiss you. It’s not the first time you have put your hands on each other either, though that was always with your clothes on. You want to be able to go all the way with him this time… and that thought terrifies you more than anything.

His hands move gently and deliberately, following the curves of your body. He may seem as shy as you are, but it’s obvious that he wants you. It causes you to momentarily drop your guard as you sigh deeply, letting your head crane back ever so slightly as he feels you in all the right places.

Then he moves to lift your blouse, and you snap back to reality.

His eyes find yours as you grab his wrist to stop him. You blush, immediately trying to explain yourself. “Amit, eh, perhaps –”

But words fail you. You’d spent so long building up to this moment that you feel bad backing out now.

There’s a momentary pause, and then Amit takes both of your hands into his. You’re surprised to see him… smiling.

“My dear,” he says, “I understand. You’re always so brave, so unyielding, that it must be a strange thing for you to be vulnerable like this. We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to. But… I am ready to do this with you, if you are.”

Great, now you feel bad. Telling yourself to get your act together, you let out a shivering sigh. “I… I want this too. But let’s take it slow, all right?”

“Of course,” he nods, before seemingly getting a thought. “I may have an idea – turn around for me?”

Frowning, you turn your back to him. You feel his arms wrap around you and then he’s suddenly embracing you from behind, his warmth pressing up against you as his mouth hovers close to your ear. “Better?”

You nod. It does feel good. Though what makes it even better are his lips on your neck, gently suckling on that sensitive piece of skin that has your heart thumping within minutes.

Your breath grows heavier, more ragged, and you’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even feel the thin fabric sliding down your shoulders. Though you do sense it when he pulls back, and you suddenly realise your back is exposed.

He doesn’t say anything, at least, not at first. You can feel his eyes bore into you, his fingers reaching out to examine your scars with almost scientific curiosity. Your mind is rushing with thoughts, seeking the words to explain, to justify, but then your breathing stops at the sound of his chuckling. Oh Merlin, he’s chuckling.

“They look like constellations,” he says. You furrow your brow, slightly turning your head. “What?”

“Your scars. Look,” He traces a line near your left shoulder blade. “Corvus,”

He trails further down, finding a mark on your lower back, “Capricornus,”

And finally, his hand rests on a spot toward your right side. “Lacerta.”

You keep frowning, though you are unable to resist a smile at the enthusiastic tone in his voice. “You… you don’t mind them?”

“Not at all. I think they look… pretty.” He leans forward to kiss you on your cheek. “Was this what you were so nervous about?”

“I… I suppose I was.” It sounds almost comical now, the way your worries amounted to nothing. He starts peppering your shoulders with little kisses once more, drawing a sigh from your lips.

“I want to study them,” he coos between kisses. “To chart them, to map every detail of your exquisite body.”

You chuckle, your nerves finally loosening. “You want to study me?”

“Why not? I know for a fact you would make for a truly… fascinating subject.”

As intriguing as the thought sounds, you feel you have a better idea. With the initial apprehension and shame having melted away, you are suddenly rather eager to completely cede yourself to your lover. You move back, pressing your butt up against his pelvis, Amit rewarding you with a shocked gasp. There’s no doubt about it, all that talk about constellations and your body has made him hard as hell.

“Nice instrument you have there,” you say, voice thick with lust, “care for a demonstration?”

The heaviness of his breathing is only drawn out by the sound of his trousers being loosened. A delicious shiver ripples through you as his length presses up against your bottom, warm and throbbing. You are both nervous, anxious about the bond you are about to seal, though it’s like none of that matters anymore as he finally enters you, stretching you to your limits.

Constellations, you think with a smirk, as your vision explodes into a sea of stars.

Garreth Weasley 🦁

“Come again?”

The Gryffindor perches up from his seat, looking at you over the many bottles spewing out coloured puffs of smoke. You instantly realise this was a bad idea. Nevertheless, you repeat your query, letting out a sigh as you cross your arms. “I was asking if, hypothetically speaking, there was a potion that could make scars disappear.”

He cocks an eyebrow, obviously not having expected the question. At least, not from you.

“Well uh,” he says, scratching behind his ear, “I suppose it depends on the size, and the kind, things like that. Why do you ask, did I leave a hickey last time?”

You roll your eyes. “No. I didn’t even say it was for me.”

“Well, that much is a given. You’re the only one who’s so self-conscious about their image they need about fifty different charms every morning.”

That does it. “You know what, forget I asked,” you bristle, turning on your heels to stamp out of the classroom. Before you are able to leave, though, Garreth quickly steps around the table, blocking your path. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry – that was uncalled for.”

“You’d think?” you snarl, though your gaze is already softening. You’ve never really been able to get truly mad at the Gryffindor, knowing that most of the time he’s simply a goof with a habit of running his mouth.

“Look, err,” he says hesitatingly, “there’s no way I can say this without sounding at least moderately offensive. But – I’ve seen you knock down trolls thrice your size. Why of all things is this the thing you choose to be insecure about?”

You flash him a look. “If it were a choice, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Right, but still.” He takes a step closer to you. “I think you’re pretty as you are. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Of course it does, but…” You sigh. “You’ve never actually seen me.”

It’s true, he hasn’t. Even though the two of you have been taking it steadily for a couple of months now, you’ve never gotten much intimate beyond making out sessions or quick handjobs in the bathroom. Part of you is grateful for his patience, for his lack of questions about your odd habit of always wearing long sleeved sweaters, though he’s never been really good at hiding his eagerness to see more of you. And obviously you’ve felt the urge too, though…

“Show me, then.”

You blink, thinking you misheard. “What?”

Garreth smiles at you. “Come on, think of it as another challenge. I’m sure, at the end of this, you realise it’s all in your head.”

You want to tell him off, but… you can’t. As much as the thought frightens you, perhaps taking this one step is all you need to finally get over your fear.

“You mean… in here?” you ask, looking around the Potions classroom. It’s isolated at the moment, though you don’t find the possibility of anyone walking in at you much appealing.

Garreth thinks for a moment. “I have an idea. Follow me,”

He walks over to a door in the corridor and swiftly unlocks it with a charm. As soon as you’ve both stepped inside, he turns around and locks it again. You look around you and see a desk and shelves stacked with all kinds of potion ingredients.

“Sharp’s office?” you snap at him in a whisper.

“He won’t be back for a good while,” Garreth says, shrugging. “Black’s got him running some inane errand again. Besides, the forbiddenness of it all is rather exciting, don’t you think?”

You shake your head. Silly goof. Garreth leans back against the desk, crossing his arms. “Right, then. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

You thought you could do it, but now that you’re standing here with the Weasley boy looking at you, you suddenly feel shy again. You simply fidget a bit, not really feeling inclined to take any action.

Garreth cocks an eyebrow. “Still nervous? Darling, you’re looking at a fellow whose mug looks like this –” he points at his own face with a funny gesture – “and you honestly feel you have a right to complain?”

You chuckle, slightly harder than you’d meant to because of the nerves. You appreciate his meagre attempt at humour, even though it’s doing little to encourage you, which he seems to be realising as well.

“Still nothing?” he asks. “All right, tell you what, why don’t I go first?”

You are about to ask what he means when he suddenly pulls his shirt over his head. You can’t help but stare as you take in his well-defined torso, every inch of skin covered in light freckles.

“Weasley family curse,” he says with a grin. “And you thought you had it bad.”

There’s a beat as you stand there, looking like you’ve been struck by lightning. Maybe you would never admit it openly, but he does look like quite the snack. It has you involuntarily growing red in the face.

Trembling like a leaf, you start pulling at your sweater, lifting the garment ever so slowly. Garreth’s eyes linger as you bare yourself to him, tongue slipping past his lips to wet them. You don’t know what he’s thinking. You’re not sure you even want to know. All you can do is look away and desperately wish you’ll spontaneously turn invisible as you bunch your sweater up around your chest, nothing but air shrouding your scarred waist from his hungry gaze.

Before you can proceed any further, he suddenly steps forward, kneeling in front of you. You’re too shocked to say anything as he grabs your hips and moves his head toward your abdomen. There’s a slightly tickling sensation as you feel him blowing – actually blowing – on your stomach.

“What are you doing?” you ask, not knowing whether to sound amused or confused.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, pausing just a moment to look up at you with joy-filled eyes. “I’m blowing the scars away.”

You’re genuinely lost for words. He doesn’t seem to care. He simply continues to blow on the pink markings, causing the little hairs on your skin to stand up in titillated delight.

“You’re a fool,” you finally chuckle, your trepidation breaking under his boyish charm.

“I know,” comes the reply from underneath the mess of red curls. “And you love me for it.”

His lips advance, touching your skin. Wet, soft. A sigh escapes your lips as you feel him trail down, kissing, loving.

He’s right, and you know it.

[the-au-thor]

Must've been the Wind | Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

based on Alec Benjamin's original song 《Must've been the Wind》

Synopsis: You. Spencer. A strange noise and Spencer's inquisitive nature will lead both to the obligation to cross the boundaries that fear and shyness have forced you to draw.

Word Count: 1k.

TW: Read this please! We're gonna explore some sensitive topics.

〔Part 1〕〔Part 2〕

The days passed quickly after that, especially since the case had been tough. When he returned after those days of work, it was another stormy, windy, and icy day in Virginia.

He had decided to occupy his time by doing what he had been procrastinating for a while: organizing his library and, well, the entire apartment.

It was in the midst of the bustling cleaning work when he heard shouts from your apartment. At first, he tried to ignore it. It could be anything, right? Plus, you didn't seem to have been very comfortable with him the last time you talked, for some strange reason. It wasn't until he heard a too loud thud coming from the same place that he decided to set aside the bleach bottle and rubber gloves to leave the apartment and go upstairs with a knot of worry in his stomach.

He knew he shouldn't be interested in other people's affairs, but the problem is that there were certain things he couldn't ignore, and those were the signs. The crying, the arguing, and your clear and evasive response were signs that something was wrong.

When he climbed the stairs and went to knock on the door, almost as if by a vision, you opened it. Just enough for there to be space to see you. Your eyes were teary again, and your lips swollen. Your slightly reddened nose accusingly shone; you had been crying.

"Hey, I know I might sound pushy, but I heard loud noises again, and I just wanted to know if you're okay," he said.

You nervously bit your lips, and Spencer saw your eyes filling with tears that you refused to shed.

"Yeah, I know, but listen," you pointed to the ceiling, "it's raining heavily again, maybe...” You paused, nervously swaying and clutching your vest tightly around your body, as if protecting yourself from something. “…maybe there's a leak in the attic of the building and the wind is blowing through there. I'll talk to Larry, and he'll send a technician to check it out."

The sleeve of your vest slid down, revealing your reddened wrist.

Spencer frowned with concern. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked alarmed.

You quickly lowered your eyes to your wrist and covered it up. You disguised your distress with a smile and denied, pretending to be unconcerned. "Yeah, it's just a bruise I got while working out at this gym I'm going to. Someone is clumsy lifting weights," you laughed, "it's nothing," you reassured him, "it'll heal."

Spencer didn't believe a word you said.

"Okay," he finally nodded, "I'm sorry to be a broken record, but when I said you could call me for anything you need, I meant it."

You smiled without showing your teeth and then looked over your shoulder. "I know, thank you," you looked back at him, "Now I have to go back inside, but thanks again for caring. I guess it's part of the job."

It wasn't just that, but it was part of who he was. But he chose to nod and bid you farewell. He returned to his apartment equally or more worried and uneasy.

He decided to find a way to show you that you could trust him. A creative way that only you would understand.

"I think my neighbor is suffering PTSD and is being abused," he announced one day at work while sharing coffee with his friends from the BAU.

J.J stopped just before taking a sip from her cup and looked at him for a few seconds, trying to understand Spencer's concern.

"Have you tried offering her help?" Spencer nodded. "And what did she say?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line and then clicked his tongue. "She doesn't trust me. I've heard her cry, and I've seen bruises on her arms when I go to make sure she's okay..."

"Wait, son, have you gone to her apartment to see if she's okay?" Spencer nodded slowly before seeing Derek curl his lips into a wolfish smile. "Charmy."

Spencer frowned and turned to Emily and J.J.

"What do you think?"

Emily, taking Spencer's dilemma seriously, took a sip of her coffee and adopted a seriousness befitting an agent with her reputation.

"It's okay; you've tried the direct method, and clearly it's not working. She's scared and probably very ashamed if someone is really abusing her. Does she have a boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Spencer clarified. "My neighbor, Mrs. Phillips, says he sometimes comes to visit."

J.J pursed her lips as if she genuinely regretted what she heard.

"The cycle of violence."

"If he's her ex, it's a step; a woman leaving her abuser is a very vulnerable person, and if you say he comes back occasionally, we're talking about a charismatic and very manipulative person," Derek raised his eyebrow and chuckled half-heartedly.

"Maybe you could try something more subtle; smile at her and ask her how she's doing," Emily added. "Actions speak louder than words; if you've already gone to check on her, you're already proving that she can trust you."

"I'd tell you to send her a letter; but you might confuse her if she's vulnerable," Rossi intervened for the first time. "And I guess you don't want to hit on her yet..."

"I-I n-never. Uh-I don't want that, I-I'm just worried,"

"Sure," Emily murmured just as she drank coffee.

"Of course," J.J spoke. "Use what you know to gain her trust; remember that sometimes even the details help us feel safe with someone."

Sensory Stimulation, he had thought; something she would hear and relate to calmness and safety.

So he decided to go to the record store and went straight to the counter.

Randall, the guy behind the counter, looked at him through his thick red-framed glasses with a tired expression and sighed.

"For the tenth time this month; no, your order hasn't arrived yet," he said impatiently. "Stop being a cliché for your own nerd class and put your compulsive obsession and your weird fetish for Beethoven somewhere deep in your mind where I can't see it anymore," he requested.

"That song that goes 'When you're in trouble or somethinglikethat, I'll be your friend.... etcetera, etcetera, I'll help you carry on.'"

He frowned. "You mean Bill Withers?"

Spencer frowned.

"I don't know who that is, does he sing that song?"

The man in front of him looked almost offended.

"You say it as if we were talking about the composers of Sesame Street."

Spencer pursed his thoughtful lips.

"Is that an indie band?"

The man grunted, staring at him as if he couldn't believe what was in front of him.

"Look Spencer, I've learned to put up with you because you're a customer, and because no matter how much I could kick you out of here, you being an agent is still intimidating, but I have much better things to do than stand here listening to you terribly offend all of pop culture history..."

"Randall."

"...And good musicians and bad musicians, and damn it, even me. We're not friends, but I've been serving you for years, I thought there was a buyer-provider relationship here"

Spencer pointed at him.

"You call me a nerd at every opportunity. That's not respect, Randall, it's condescension. Now, what about the song?"

"Well, but you have to tell me why you suddenly have an interest in musicians who have been dead for less than a century."

"With all due respect, but it's not your business," Spencer replied softly to avoid sounding rude.

"You came to my store for advice; it's completely my business."

Spencer grunted.

"I came to your store for a record, not for advice."

"Do you know what record you're looking for?"

"No," he gritted his teeth.

The man smiled, clasping his hands on his counter.

"Then you're looking for advice. Now tell me why you're looking for the record of a musician you don't really know."

Spencer looked at him for a few seconds. He could easily leave and go to another store. But first, he already knew Randall well enough, and he didn't have the personality to go to another store and hum a song he barely knew without feeling embarrassed. Plus, one of the reasons he chose that store was that Randall could be sometimes rude and unpleasant, but he didn't play those horrible top 40 songs or allow dirt in the store, nor was he a scammer like in other places.

"There's a girl..." he began to explain and heard Randall's amused laughter.

"You're not going to impress her with that Bill song."

"See, this is more important than impressing her..."

He shrugged.

"You definitely want to impress her, you're not gay," he wrinkled his nose, "trust me," he laughed, "I would know."

Spencer rolled his eyes, losing his temper.

"Can you give me the damn name of the record?" he muttered under his breath, "Normally our conversations don't go beyond two or three sentences, and I'm already getting angry."

Randall gave him a huge smile.

"It's just that you've just started to seem interesting to me."

Spencer grunted again, and he sighed. "Bill Withers, the album Still Bill," he finally said before Spencer went in search of the record.

When he returned home, he turned on the record player and made sure the music was loud enough for her to hear it.

He played the same record daily whenever he was in the apartment.

He didn't hear from you until two weeks later. When he crossed paths with you at the entrance of the building. You were digging around the rose bushes so that the water could reach the roots more easily, and he was coming from another tiring case involving teenagers and a rather elusive serial killer. You surely noticed the exhaustion on his face when you greeted him, and he could barely return the greeting.

When he entered the apartment, he sank into his sofa and contemplated the idea of sleeping pills, but instead, he opened the first book that was at hand and started reading it. He was in the middle of his reading when timid knocks sounded on his door. Somewhat surprised, he walked to the door and opened it to find your face on the other side. You were wearing a long earth-colored wool dress and military boots with a thick heel. In both hands, you held a tray with steaming cookies, the same ones you had given him on your first day in the building.

He looked up from the cookies to you with a curious look. You looked at him, and then into the apartment, seeming to be attentive to the music coming from the record player.

"You..." you cleared your throat nervously, "...I saw you were feeling a bit down, and I..." you handed him the tray with cookies, and when Spencer held it in his hands, you nervously scratched your neck, "I made cookies and thought maybe they could cheer you up," you shrugged.

"This is very nice, thank you. I like your cookies," he admitted, and you smiled at him shyly.

"I'm glad, I really don't know if you're really a person who likes sweet things, I hope you enjoy them," you paused for a few seconds and nodded, "I hope you feel better, I won't interrupt you anymore."

"Hey, can I make some coffee? Do you want to come in?" he offered.

You nervously toyed with your hands and shook your head. "I shouldn't."

Spencer then smiled kindly. "No problem, really, I wasn't doing anything productive. I was too distracted to pay attention to anything."

You finally relented somewhat insecurely. "Okay, but just for a moment, actually," you paused after putting one foot inside the apartment, "I also came to thank you for your concern, I know... you're good and honest, and those are things we take for granted but are unusual."

Spencer decided to take the compliment with humility and nodded with a small smile. "It's just the least I can do, come on in," he invited you to the kitchen, where he left the tray on one of the countertops and began to set up the Italian coffee maker on the stove.

You looked around somewhat uncomfortably; it must have been strange for you to enter his apartment, after all, you had spoken little to nothing; you really didn't know each other. And for that same reason, it had also been very strange for him to invite you.

"That's... very good music," you nodded approvingly as you listened to the song, "You play it quite often, I always hear it from my apartment."

He half-smiled, satisfied that his plan had worked. At least, you had noticed.

"I'm more of a classical music fan, but I think Bill Withers is a good singer-songwriter, plus the song Lean On Me..." he shrugged, acting naturally as he listened to the water boiling inside the pot.

You nodded in understanding. "It's really good. Music is a good stimulus; I work in the oncology wing of the hospital, usually with children," you commented, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, "When they're undergoing treatment, I usually play music for them, and they respond better to treatments in a positive environment."

"Music creates peaks of emotions that increase dopamine," he explained, "So if you play happy music, the brain processes that emotion even when they're only at a subconscious level," he added.

You nodded with a half-smile, letting Spencer give that explanation even when you already knew it.

"And dopamine helps control pleasure in the brain," you commented, then furrowed your brow, "What do you really do in the FBI?"

He watched you for a moment before starting to fill two cups with the steaming and fragrant coffee.

"If I talk about my job, will I make you uncomfortable? I noticed something happened when Mrs. Phillips mentioned it."

You seemed troubled, and you put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"No, it's just that people with guns unsettle me more than give me a sense of security," you tried to explain, "No matter if you're one of the good guys or the bad guys, a man with a gun is a man with a gun."

He furrowed his brow. "Well, it's true, that's why to do my job, there are strict psychological tests," he explained, "Besides, I've only used my gun when strictly necessary."

You looked somewhat distressed at the idea.

"I've seen men in uniform carrying guns who don't deserve them, that's all," you replied simply.

"I have a friend; she works at the FBI as our tech. She would understand what you're feeling," Spencer nodded. "I've never been fond of guns, but there were a couple of times I had to use them, and that meant a lot of pain for her."

You furrowed your brow, accepting the coffee cup Spencer offered.

"Why did she have to use them? She was a tech."

Spencer smiled, pleased that you were paying attention.

"Well, you see, we work for a department of the FBI called the BAU, Behavioral Analysis Unit, we profile difficult-to-find or dangerous criminals and their victims to find them."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, wait, you're basically detectives, that's... super dangerous but intriguing."

Spencer invited you to sit on the couch, and to his surprise, you settled in to listen. You placed the cookie tray on the coffee table and took one out.

"Something like that, and Penelope, that friend I mentioned, is really sensitive, if you saw her, you wouldn't understand how she worked in the midst of so many crimes. One day I was shot when we were out of town, and the local police were very corrupt, and we had found out. That's when a nurse tried to administer me carbenicillin, and I'm allergic," he explained.

You put your hand on your chest with empathy.

"Oh no. Poor thing, I really wouldn't know what to do with a gun in my hand."

"With the mitigating circumstances, I'm sure you would know what to do," he said.

You nodded, seeming to reflect on it. You drank the rest of your coffee in silence and looked at him attentively. You were so pretty, Spencer thought. And it gave him immense sadness and anger to know that someone was making you suffer.

He saw a lock of your hair fall onto your forehead, and he reached out to tuck it behind your ear without really thinking about it. Before his fingers touched your hair, you jumped in surprise, looking at him in fear, covering yourself with your forearms.

Spencer stood still, and you immediately looked remorseful for overreacting in that way. You left the coffee cup on the table and stood up, rubbing your hands on your skirt nervously. Spencer got up in the same way, calling your name softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done anything."

"It's not your fault, it's mine, I... I think I should go home now, thanks for the coffee, and you can return the tray whenever you want, no rush," you babbled, avoiding eye contact and starting to walk towards the door.

Spencer approached you with his hands raised so you wouldn't feel threatened. With sadness in your eyes, you stopped with your hand on the doorknob without making eye contact.

"Wait, wait," he asked softly, "I'm sorry if I crossed a line, I usually don't," he explained, "I'll put my hands on your shoulders," he warned, and then slowly placed his hands in that spot, feeling you tremble under his palms, "I know something is wrong," he said, eliciting a whimper of sadness from you, "but I know you won't talk about it with me, you don't know me," he shrugged, "So for now, it will be the wind that makes the noise," he nodded, "until you decide to trust me enough for it to stop being like that, okay?"

With teary eyes, you silently nodded. For a moment, it seemed like you wanted to hug him, but instead, you hugged yourself with a sad smile.

"Thank you, Spencer."

"I know we're not friends, but you can lean on me if you need to, okay? If you want to talk or just exist, you can do it here with me."

You nodded silently and slowly walked away from him, but you didn't seem scared anymore, and that was enough for Spencer to see you leave calmly.

That afternoon he played Bill's record again.

After that brief but hopeful encounter, Spencer didn't hear any noises again, no crying or slamming doors. Not until two weeks later. It was on a gray afternoon, while Spencer was enjoying a hot chocolate and a good read, that he felt that procession of infernal noise again. He heard a murmured argument, like being underwater, a slam of doors, and the crying. Spencer wanted to run there, he wanted to go where you were and cradle you, save you. Whatever you needed. He was truly willing to give it. But he couldn't push you: if something was happening, you had to be the one to open up and seek help. Spencer had seen too many similar cases to know that you were the one who needed to want to get out of this situation; otherwise, if he forced you, it would only be a matter of time before you fell back into that cyclical pattern again.

After a couple of minutes trying to calm his concern, Spencer felt soft knuckles tapping on his door. He got up somewhat puzzled; he rarely expected visitors, and when he opened the door, there you were.

You had a red nose, a giant sweater wrapped around you, and those leggings you seemed to always wear when you were at home. As soon as your slightly swollen eyes met his, you nervously rubbed your nose.

"Hey,"

Spencer frowned. This time you weren't trying to hide that you'd been crying, yet he didn't know what to say.

"Hey...a-are you...? Are you okay?"

You put your hands on your hips, trying to compose yourself, and then nodded. You let out a nervous laugh.

"It's the wind again; I don't think I can stand another second in the apartment. Y-you...was your invitation serious?" you asked shyly.

That broke Spencer's heart: you still didn't want to talk about it, but at least this was progress. Spencer opened the door fully and invited you in.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" he asked when he saw you standing in the middle of the living room looking like a lost puppy.

That seemed to cheer you up, and you nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, please."

"Do you want to watch a movie?" he asked from the kitchen while you timidly approached Spencer's bookshelf to browse.

"That's fine; I brought my iPad because I'm studying a new case of Gestational Trophoblastic Neoplasia that has come to the hospital and we'll start treating it this Monday."

"Ouch; that sounds complex," Spencer walked over to you with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. You thanked him with a smile.

"It is, but it's in the early stages, which gives a lot of hope," you murmured, looking around until you noticed the small sofa by the window. "Do you mind if I sit there? I promise not to be a bother."

Spencer wrinkled his nose.

"You're not a bother; sit wherever you want."

In silence and somewhat nervously, you approached the couch and nestled among the cushions, unlocking your iPad while sipping your chocolate and putting on some reading glasses that somehow made you look innocent and fragile.

Spencer watched your nose hold the curve of your glasses as you paid absolute attention to your reading. He observed your body language: your shoulders were slightly slumped, your legs folded relaxedly; you trusted him. You knew you weren't in danger. And you were so pretty; you were always pretty; in your dresses, in your sportswear, in your uniform, and in your leggings. You were pretty even with the red nose and dry tears on your skin, although he hated seeing you like this.

His name on your lips snapped him out of his fascination.

"Uh, yeah?" he asked.

"Can you play the song?"

He didn't have to ask which one; Spencer already knew.

As suddenly as he knew, like a slap in the face, he liked you, a lot.

***

"Hey."

"Hey," you smiled at Spencer as both of you retrieved mail from your mailboxes in a comfortable silence. Both of you smiled, and there was a slight tension as if you had something to say but neither of you dared to speak yet.

"Hey," you finally turned to him, leaning against the wall to look at him. "I don't have to work today, but it's Ollie's last day at the hospital; the rest of the nurses and I wanted to throw him a farewell party with the other kids. Do you want to come help me with the decorations?"

Spencer smiled back at you; you had rosy cheeks, and it seemed like it had cost you a lot to ask for his help even though after months of starting to spend a little more time together. That day when you came crying to his apartment wasn't the only time; after that, it happened a couple more times, but you had never really talked about it. It was happening less and less, and Spencer had mixed feelings about it. He knew you were getting better, and apparently, your ex-boyfriend no longer visited you, and you didn't give him the opportunity to hurt you. But he also missed your presence in the apartment; your crocs hanging off the tip of your foot unconsciously while keeping your eyes on your iPad screen. Spencer had noticed that when you entered his apartment, it was filled with a soft scent of green apples that lingered for a long time even after you left. You brought cookies, and sometimes you talked about your jobs. Spencer had seen a more relaxed disposition in you when you talked about violence at the FBI and the cases that sometimes affected Spencer. He had built a friendship with the tormented girl from the upstairs apartment.

"Ollie is leaving the hospital already? Wow," Spencer smiled enthusiastically; he didn't know the little boy, but you had told him about him.

You had talked a lot about him.

He decided to accompany you that afternoon and get to know you a little more; you weren't just the neighbor in dresses who seemed to work with kids, love plants, and puppies. Spencer noticed other peculiarities; you were shy around adults and totally extroverted with kids. You really liked cake; you had eaten three servings and seemed to share the same love for sweets as Spencer. Suddenly, intrusive thoughts started attacking Spencer. What would happen when you found out the truth about him? That he was a former addict and had been briefly in jail for a crime he didn't commit but where he was forced to do things he never would have imagined to survive? He couldn't imagine you running away from the scene after telling you; it was too painful.

You had also discovered things about Spencer. And much of what you were discovering terrified you. Because that meant he wasn't like anyone you had ever met before; you couldn't anticipate any of his moves. You are always surprised by his warm conversation and social awkwardness. With his sense of morality and justice. You trusted him, which would be great, but the problem is that you didn't even trust yourself.

The last time you had trusted your judgment to judge someone, you had suffered too much.

But you couldn't walk away, especially when Spencer showed strength for you and on evenings like this: vulnerability.

Something had happened to him on the way from the hospital to the apartments. He was quiet, and although he tried to make conversation, he couldn't help but have moments of silence where he looked too introspective with a slightly worried frown. When you said goodbye to him before going up to the next floor where you lived, you asked him once more if something had happened. He only replied that he was tired. You weren't going to pressure him; he didn't do it to you.

So when you entered your lonely apartment, you turned on the kettle and opened the window of your living room wide, which was right above Spencer's, and felt the warm breeze of an impending rain. You leaned just a little to see him opening his window. You leaned out just a bit to see him looking out onto the street just like you, and you began tapping rhythmically on the wood of the window.

"Lean on me," you started singing. "When you're not strong. And I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on. For it won't be long, till I’m gonna need …"

"Somebody to lean on," Spencer's whisper was barely audible, making you smile sadly.

"I know it's not the fancy vinyl you always play but...I don't have one, and my phone died," you heard his chuckle, and then a realization hit you like a punch in the face.

You realized that you couldn't expect Spencer to trust you without taking a leap of faith yourself.

Spencer heard a small murmur and saw the tip of your shoes hanging just above his window. Worried, he leaned out to see you sitting on the frame of your window, just getting comfortable with a cup of tea in your hands, looking at the sky. He remained expectant, not knowing what to do: it was a somewhat strange situation, but you didn't seem to want to jump anytime soon.

They stayed like that for a while.

And then you decided to break the silence.

"I had-have," you clarified. "An ex-boyfriend. He was my first boyfriend; the guy I moved out of my parents' house with, you know? He was a big deal," you added, pausing for a moment. "He's a cop. And you know? It's funny, cops swear they'll protect the nation, and my ex did. And I was so proud of him," you remembered, feeling the first tear fall down your cheek. "He isolated me; he told me how suffocating my family was, how narcissistic my best friend was. He even went as far as to make me change my gynecologist to one of his choosing."

Spencer was speechless; he knew how that story went. He had heard it so many times with different protagonists, yet he felt an immense urge to know how yours continued.

"I stopped talking to my parents and pushed away my friends. Then that wasn't enough anymore; he accused me of cheating, said I spent too much time at work and was neglecting him. His ex-girlfriend wasn't like that; neither was his mother. He said, 'if you were better, maybe I'd stop looking at asses on the internet,'" you laughed without humor, wiping your tears. "Can you believe it? Now I can't, but at that time...damn...at that time, I thought I could change him. That deep down he was a good person, and who the hell would I have if I left him? No one; he had made sure of that," you murmured, trying to hold back your tears for a few more seconds. "One day, that wasn't enough anymore; that's when the shoves started. If we went out, he used to squeeze my wrist with his fingers until it left marks. And over time he got bolder; he would hit me with doors or try to choke me every time we argued. My breaking point was one night when I came home later from a shift, and he was...oh God, he was so angry. He put his gun right to my temple and asked me to give him three reasons not to do it because he had thousands to do it. When I begged and cried on my knees, he pulled the trigger just to show me the gun was never loaded. He called me a useless bitch and said if I told anyone about it, no one would believe me; he got promoted to detective after that," you finished the story out loud for the first time: told to someone else. And you had never felt so free and yet so empty.

"Sometimes he comes; he used to come all the time until a few months ago. It usually started sweet and then turned violent. I let him in because I didn't want him to escalate further or endanger any neighbor. I-I just wanted peace," you closed your eyes trying to explain yourself, but even then, everything you had allowed was unjustifiable to you. "It's been over a year since we broke up, and I'm still trying to repair my relationship with my parents. I don't have the face to apologize to my friends because I'd have to explain and Th-that. Oh, Spencer," you touched your chest needing air. "That's impossible."

You felt Spencer move in his apartment and a couple of doors closing. Panic shot through your back; he had left. He had left you alone. Or so it was until you felt the doorbell ring and hurried to get to it, looking through the peephole. When you opened it, there was Spencer, ready for you to throw yourself at him, giving him a hug and letting go of the tears you had accumulated with shame for over a year.

"I'm sorry, Spencer."

"Tss," his nose was pressed against your neck, and his hands massaged your back affectionately. "It's okay, cry."

"I-it wasn't the wind," you sobbed. "I-it never was."

He felt you nod.

"I know. Don't worry; you're safe," he promised.

And you believed him, truly did.

***

@the-tpd-bau