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afterheese · 9 days ago

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Are You Here For The Interview? — Park Sunghoon x F!Reader

“You’re tense,” he murmured near my ear. His voice had dropped lower now, darker, each word drawing across my skin. “Most people hide it well. You don’t.”

cw: dark!sunghoon, noncon, forced oral, hair pulling, praise kink, degradation.

enha just dropped their concept phots and my brain just... exploded. I watched Secretary recently too and yeah, it all spiraled from there.

“You’ve got this,” Luna said over the phone, her voice steady with the kind of confidence I couldn’t seem to find in myself.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, one hand still tangled in my hair, the other fumbling with a shirt that suddenly felt all wrong. “I don’t feel too good,” I mumbled, already hating how small my voice sounded.

“You’re not sick,” she replied gently. “That’s just your nerves talking.”

I sighed, dragging a sweater over my head and immediately peeling it off again. Nothing looked right. Nothing felt right. “I need this job, Lu,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “If I don’t get it, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.”

There was a pause on her end. I could hear the faint click of her keyboard—she was probably at work, “You’re supposed to breathe,” she said calmly. “You’re supposed to show up. That’s all. Let the rest figure itself out.”

I grabbed another outfit and held it up to the mirror. Too plain. Too loud. Too… not me.

“You’ve worked hard for this,” she said, her voice steady. “And you’re more ready than you think. They’d be lucky to have you,don’t forget that.”

Her words stopped me.

I looked at myself. Flushed cheeks, hair refusing to cooperate, eyes too wide.

“Don’t know what I do without you” I muttered, choosing a blouse I hadn’t worn in forever and tugging it off the hanger.

Luna laughed. “That’s part of the deal. Now put the damn blouse on and go knock them dead.”

I nodded to no one, setting the phone down on speaker and pulling on the blouse. My fingers trembled as I buttoned it, but Luna’s voice stayed in the background like a safety net.

“Okay, I’m hanging up now,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “We still on for drinks Saturday?”

“Fuck yeah,” Luna groaned. “I need a tequila shot after the week I’ve had.”

I laughed under my breath. “Alright. Talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye-bye,” she said, her voice already fading as she clicked off, probably diving straight back into emails and deadlines.

I stared at myself in the mirror for a beat longer.

Hair—acceptable. Outfit—not terrible. Nerves—still loud.

I took a breath, straightened my top, and nodded once to my reflection.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

Then I turned and walked out the door.

I stood on the sidewalk, craning my neck to look up at the building. People streamed in and out like they belonged, like they had offices with nameplates and knew what all the acronyms meant in meetings.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt.

I’d rehearsed answers. Practiced breathing.

But now that I was here, I couldn’t seem to move.

My reflection stared back at me in the glass doors. I looked… fine. But I didn’t feel it. I felt like I was ten years old again, standing outside the principal’s office.

“You can do this,” I whispered under my breath.

My fingers curled around the handle.

One breath in. One breath out.

And then I pulled the door open

I walked through the glass doors and headed straight for the reception desk, trying to look more confident than I felt.

“Hi, good morning,” I said, my voice a little too bright.

The receptionist didn’t look up—just gave a distracted “mm-hmm” while typing something into her computer.

“I’m here for an interview with Mr. Park.”

That got her attention. She slowly looked up and gave me a once-over that made my stomach twist tighter than it already was. I forced a smile, but it faltered under her stare.

“Tenth floor,” she said finally. “Three doors down, to the right.” She slid a visitor's pass across the counter without another word.

“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the pass and turning toward the elevators like I hadn’t just been mentally undressed by someone who clearly didn’t care if I got the job or not.

As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped in, my fingers curling around the pass like it was a lifeline. Tenth floor, I repeated silently. Three doors down, to the right.

Okay. Let’s do this.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the tenth floor. I stepped out into a hallway that was carpeted, each step absorbed into silence. Frosted glass doors lined the corridor, some marked with silver-plated nameplates, others left blank like secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Three doors down.

To the right.

I found it. The name etched in clean, serifed letters: Mr.Park, Executive Director.

The weight of the title made something flutter low in my stomach. I smoothed a hand down the front of my blouse, steadied my breath, and raised my fist to knock.

Three polite raps. Then silence.

A moment passed. Then a low voice, smooth and quiet, almost too quiet to catch:

“Come in.”

I turned the handle and stepped inside.

The office was larger than I expected, all dark wood and glass, tastefully minimalist with a view of the city skyline behind him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bled soft daylight across the space.

And there he was.

Seated behind a black marble desk, his gaze already lifted from the document in his hands. He looked nothing like I had imagined.

He was far too young to hold a title like Executive Director, yet somehow, he wore the role like it was tailored to his skin. Sharp lines framed his lean face—jaw tight, lips unreadable. His black suit was immaculate, fitted close to his frame with a kind of restrained luxury.

But it was the way he looked at you that made the air stretch tight.

Behind his sleek black glasses, his gaze was cool and calculating. His eyes so dark they seemed bottomless, like they saw right through the layers of your voice and posture and politeness, down to the place where nerves lived. His hair fell in slightly tousled strands, dark and soft-looking, but nothing about his presence suggested softness.

When he tilted his head slightly, adjusting his glasses with long, pale fingers.

He was stunning in a way that made you uncomfortable.

Mr. Park wasn’t just handsome.

He was unsettlingly perfect.

“Good morning, Mr. Park—”

He lifted a hand, stopping me mid-sentence with nothing more than a slight motion and a look that pinned me in place.

“Call me Sunghoon,” he said smoothly, his voice low and unhurried, the words settling between us like a quiet command.

There was no smile. Just those dark, unreadable eyes behind the glasses.

“Okay… Sunghoon,” I said, the name catching slightly on my tongue. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

I extended my hand, trying to appear composed.

He took it without hesitation.

His grip was firm—confident, controlled. Not aggressive, but just strong enough to remind me who held the power in this room. The heat of his palm against mine sent a flicker of nerves up my spine, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe properly.

Sunghoon released my hand slowly, his fingers brushing mine for a moment longer than necessary. Then, with an elegant shift of his posture, he leaned back in his chair, folding one leg over the other with practiced ease. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t blink too often. He simply watched—as though he had all the time in the world, and I was the only thing worth observing.

The silence that followed was awkward. He let it stretch, giving me no cues, no warmth. Just space to feel the weight of my own presence in his office.

Finally, he glanced down at the resume on his desk, fingers skimming its edge. He didn’t pick it up. Just tapped it once with the tip of his index finger.

“Two degrees,” he said, his voice calm, quiet. “Communications and business. Honors in both.”

“Yes,” I said, keeping my hands in my lap to stop from fidgeting. “I worked part-time throughout school, but I managed to keep a high GPA.”

His gaze flicked up, and for a second.

“Hard worker,” he murmured. “Disciplined. Resilient.”

A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought—

“But not assertive.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You’re polite. Careful. Every answer precise, polished. You’re saying what you think I wanna hear.”

Heat crept up my neck. I wasn’t sure whether to defend myself or sit there and take it. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t mocked me. But I felt stripped anyway—uncomfortably bare beneath that stare, like I’d walked into the room fully dressed and was now somehow... exposed. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk, his sleeves pulling taut around his forearms. His voice dropped half a note—lower, smoother, quieter. “Tell me,” he said, with the kind of calm that made the silence hum. “What do you do when you think no one’s watching?”

I hesitated, my breath catching. “I... I’m not sure I understand the question.”

He didn’t blink. “Most people lie in rooms like this. They present a version of themselves they think I want.”

A slight smile, razor-thin. “But the truth always shows eventually. I like to find it early. Don’t you?”

“Exactly.”

Then came the silence again—longer this time, as if he was giving me just enough rope to tangle myself with. I shifted slightly in the chair.

And then, with surgical precision he asked,

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

The words sliced clean through the room.

I froze.

He didn’t lean forward. He didn’t raise an eyebrow. He just sat there, perfectly still, watching me with that same flat calm, like he’d asked nothing out of the ordinary.

A question designed to catch me off guard, to strip away the prepared answers and the practiced smile—to see what I’d do off-script.

“Oh—” The word slipped out before I could stop it, sharp with surprise. “I... I—um—”

My mouth kept moving, but my brain lagged behind. The question still echoed in my head, louder now.

Do you have a boyfriend?

I blinked, trying to recover, to pull together something that sounded remotely professional.

“I—I’m not sure what that has to do with—”

The stutter gave me away.

And I knew he noticed.

The words faltered, unraveling before they even left my mouth. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t need to. The silence between us was louder than anything I could have said.

I exhaled slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No. I don’t.”

He didn’t react right away. His gaze fixed on mine, unreadable.

Then, almost to himself:

“Hm. A girl like you... doesn’t have one?”

There was something off about the way he said it. Not flirtatious. Not surprised. Just thoughtful.

And then he moved.

He stood from his chair in one fluid motion—graceful, controlled, like every part of his body obeyed only precision—and rounded the desk with measured steps.

My pulse kicked hard in my throat.

I followed him with my eyes until I couldn’t without turning my whole body. He disappeared behind me, and for a moment, I just sat there, straight-backed in the chair, every muscle locked with anticipation.

Then I felt him.

His presence, looming, quiet. Then his hands.

He placed them on my shoulders with slow certainty, his fingers spreading across the fabric of my blouse like he’d already mapped the shape of me in his mind.

I froze.

His thumbs pressed in, firm, steady, working into the tense muscles near my neck. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t kind. It was deliberate—assessing, like he was testing how much resistance I’d offer.

“You’re tense,” he murmured near my ear. His voice had dropped lower now, darker, each word drawing across my skin. “Most people hide it well. You don’t.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My breath was caught somewhere between my chest and my throat, my hands still folded neatly in my lap like I was trying to convince myself this was still a professional setting. That this was normal.

But nothing about this felt normal.

Sunghoon leaned in closer, his breath hot against the curve of my neck. “Put your hands on the table,” he murmured, voice low, dark, and calm—too calm. It wasn’t a request. It was a command cloaked in velvet.

I didn’t move at first. Couldn’t. My pulse thundered in my ears, loud enough to drown out reason. Every instinct screamed that I should leave. But my feet wouldn’t move

That was the terrifying part.

His presence behind me was suffocating in the most maddening way. I could feel the heat of him, the power he held without even touching me. My hands remained clenched tight in my lap, but he didn’t repeat himself.

He didn’t have to.

Sunghoon’s silence was pressure enough, an invisible weight that coiled around my spine and waited for me to break.

Slowly, I lifted my trembling hands. The table was cool beneath my skin as I placed them flat, palms down, fingers splayed wide. They looked small. Fragile. Almost trembling against the polished grain.

“Good,” he said softly, approval laced like silk over steel. His hands were still on my shoulders, still firm, still steady. But now they moved—slowly, purposefully—his thumbs working deep into the knots beneath my shoulder blades. God, it hurt. But it was the kind of pain that made my breath catch in my throat.

Each pass of his thumbs loosened something more than just muscle. The tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Until the ache blurred, until the line between pleasure and pain dissolved.

His hands slid higher, his fingertips brushing the side of my neck—barely touching, but I felt it everywhere. Then his fingers curled beneath my jaw, tilting my head up. Not enough to meet his eyes.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice a breath against my ear, and I realized I wasn’t breathing.

Then I felt it—his hands drifting down the line of my spine, unhurried, deliberate. My breath caught, my body tensing as he reached the small of my back. The silence between us was loud now, pulsing in my ears like a second heartbeat.

He didn’t speak.

His fingers found the hem of my skirt, and everything inside me went still. My breathing faltered, chest tightening as I felt the faint tug.

Then his hands slipped beneath the fabric.

Warm. Sure. Possessive.

My stomach flipped as his fingers brushed over my thighs, dragging the edge of my underwear downward with a steady, unrelenting pull. No pause. No hesitation.

I couldn’t breathe.

The fabric caught at my knees, then slid lower, grazing my calves, pooling at my ankles. I didn’t move.

“Step out of them,” he said.

His voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. There was no threat. Just command.

I hesitated not out of defiance, but because I could feel the heat in my face, the raw vulnerability of being undressed like this. Exposed.

I stepped out.

The heat of his body, the weight of his silence. Every second that passed made me nervous. I had never done anything like this before. Never let someone take control this quickly.

But Sunghoon wasn’t asking for control.

He was taking it.

“Look how good you are at following orders,” he drawled. “A good, obedient slut, wet and ready the second I told you what to do.”

I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet, trying not to whimper when I felt his hand return, his fingers ghosting over the backs of my thighs.

“You didn’t fight me,” he went on.

His fingers slid up the inside of my thigh, then higher.

When he found how wet I was, he groaned, deep and low.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.”

I wanted to say something but all I could do was gasp, every thought drowned beneath the weight of what he was doing to me.

“First time meeting,” he muttered with a dark laugh. “And this filthy little cunt’s already soaking—just dying to be fucked.”

He pressed a single finger between my folds, parting me, slick and exposed. My hips jolted at the contact, a gasp tearing out of me before I could stop it.

“Don’t move,” he said sharply.

I froze. Every muscle locked.

He pushed the tip of his finger inside me, slow, testing. I clenched around him.

He hummed, low and satisfied, then slid in deeper.

“Fucking tight,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

He took his time with me, each slow thrust of his fingers deliberate—dragging out the motion just long enough to make me ache. He curled them just right, enough to make my breath catch and my knees falter, then withdrew almost entirely, leaving me empty and aching before driving back in with more pressure.

He added a second finger.

I gasped—sharp, involuntary—and my thighs tried to close around his hand. He didn’t let me.

His free hand clamped down on my hip, holding me still, as he drove both fingers back in, harder this time. The sound—wet and obscene—echoed in the quiet room with every thrust of his hand.

“Listen to that,” he growled, pumping his fingers in and out of me in steady, relentless strokes. “You hear that, slut? That’s how badly this cunt wants to be ruined.”

My nails scraped the desk. I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg. But the only thing that left my mouth was a broken whimper as his fingers worked faster, knuckles slapping against me with every thrust.

“Already twitching around my fingers,” Sunghoon murmured. “And I haven’t even started yet.”

I heard the sound of his belt coming undone—metal clinking, leather sliding free. My breath hitched.

I felt the blunt press of him at my entrance, thick and hard, and my fingers curled against the wood of the table.

“You’re going to take it,” he murmured, his tone dark and steady. “Every inch.”

And then he pushed.

I cried out loud, raw, unfiltered as he stretched me open, slow. He didn’t stop. Didn’t ask if it hurt. Didn’t wait for me to adjust.

He just kept going.

My forehead pressed to the table, my breath ragged, thighs shaking. I was already unraveling and he hadn’t even fucked me properly yet.

Sunghoon groaned behind me, gripping my hips tight. “Tight little cunt. Fuck..”

He pulled out just enough to make me gasp again—then slammed back in, deep and brutal.

“Not so quiet now, are you?”

I whimpered, shame burning beneath the heat of it all.

“Look at you, bent over my desk like you were made for it. You know how fucking good you look like this?” he growled, thrusting again.

I gasped, the breath knocked out of me with every brutal snap of his hips. My cheek was pressed flat to the cold desk, eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted around the whimpers he kept dragging from me. His grip on my hips was merciless, fingers digging into skin like he was claiming it.

“Fucking soaked,” he hissed, pulling out just enough to feel the slick mess between us before driving back in.

A sharp slap landed across my ass, making me jerk with a startled moan.

My whole body shuddered.

He leaned over me then, his chest pressed to my back, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re so fucking tight, baby—gripping me like you don’t want me to leave.”

His hand slid around my throat, not squeezing—just there. A warning.

“You take every inch like that greedy cunt was built for it,” he growled, thrusting deep enough to make me see stars. “Fucking perfect.”

The desk creaked beneath us, echoing every movement, every whimper.

I tried to lift myself, but he shoved me back down, growling, “Keep your hands on the desk. If they move, I’ll tie them there next time.”

His grip on my hips tightened as he thrust into me one last time, hard and deep, making me gasp, the desk creaking beneath us.

Then he stilled and suddenly, he pulled out.

His hand shot up to my arm, lifting me up roughly. My legs shaking. Before I could catch my breath, he spun me around and forced me to my knees in front of him, his cock flushed and slick, heavy and still dripping with how deep he’d been buried in me.

“Open that mouth,” he ordered, voice low and wrecked.

I lifted my eyes to his, heart pounding, and before I could stop myself, my mouth opened.

One hand tangled in my hair, the other stroking himself with rough urgency, his eyes fixed on my mouth like it was the prize he'd worked for. He didn’t hold back like this was what the entire scene had been building toward.

The taste of him hit the back of my throat as he came, hard, with a groan that vibrated through his chest and settled somewhere deep in mine. He didn’t pull away.

“Congratulations,” he said softly, “You got the job.”

My breath came too fast, too shallow. My mouth tasted like copper and fear.

He smiled.

“I can’t wait to work with you.”

fin

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namjooningera · 11 months ago

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Ghost face Toji! and his little helper

Characters: Toji, y/n, victims

A/n: hehe. So I read some ghost face JJK ffs and I was just thinking that instead of y/n being the victim what if she helped ghost face instead? 😋 his lil helper. Also first time writing smut so :p

TW: ghost face, death of background characters (by stabbing), lowkey gore, reader is lowkey sociopathic/very much delusional, smutttt, cowgirl, size difference

“Nghhh! Toji! A-ah!” You whined, being bounced on his massive member, trying to claw at anything that would give you some comfort.

“Y-you can take it, yeah? And it’s ghost face, doll.” He gripped your hips and laid below you, as you bounced mercilessly on his cock.

Bodies laid on the floor near you two, blood seeping from them and staining the concrete floors. Beer bottles broken and medr over party supplies littering the floors.

You bounced on his cock around the dead bodies, the knife from your little hand dropping to the floor as you pressed your hands against his chest for leverage.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He chuckled beneath you, breathlessly, his bloody mask halfway off while he fucked up into you.

You stand at the streets of Shibuya, behind chains led by security, watching as celebrities walk past on the red carpet.

You try to squeeze past, to see your favorite movie actors, singers, models, pass you by on the red carpet. Looking as dazzling as ever. You’d like to be them. You need to be them.

It’s been your only wish since you were a kid. You rush over around the squads of people and paparazzi, trying desperately to get the attention of the famous people.

You watch as their heels click on the red carpet, brushing past like the watchers were nothing but dust. No care in the world but their own fame, and you desperately crave that kind of life.

The cameras, the lights, the people. It’s all you wanted.

Ever since you were a little kid, orphaned young and too early. You’d sneak down in the basement of the orphanage where you lived, where a small tv was, and you’d sit in front of it criss-crossed. You’d watch the actors, musicians, models and famous people on the tv, when they’d walk the red carpet, appear in the gala, make their name and grow fanbases. The way the cameras zoomed on them, and the lights framed their faces. The paparazzi that chased them with cameras, flashing lights and the way the celebrities would pose.

You tried everything to be like them.

Signed model contracts, auditioned for background acting roles, you sang and danced, even uploaded videos on social media.

And nothing.

You didn’t get famous, you didn’t have cameras in your face, and you didn’t end up on tv or the news. Well, except once.

You ended up on the news. Once.

You remember it like it was yesterday. The way the other kids and adults taunted you. Telling you you’d never be famous. At first, they gave you the benefit of the doubt. A cute kid auditioning? You might as well get the part at some point. A commercial or some small acting role, something. But you didn’t. And they laughed. Told you to give up and your little dream would never happen. You knew it wasn’t your fault you didn’t get the role, the people you bypassed you were those with connections and nepo-babies. You didn’t stand a chance.

But their taunting never stopped, they probably would’ve if you gave up on your little dream, but you didn’t. You continued plastering celeb posters on your walls, drawing stick figures of you on the red carpet, and singing in the halls of the orphanage. All because you thought, no, you knew you’d be famous at some point.

So they ripped up your posters, your drawings, and would hit you every time they heard you sing or saw you dance. They all thought you were pathetic, and the adults who ran the orphanage started to as well.

At first they didn’t mind signing up some cute kid for these random positions, auditions. Maybe your fame would bring more money to the orphanage? But the more you asked and failed, the more you tried, they got pissed off.

At one point getting physical with you, after calling you a delusional freak they started to smack you around just like the kids. Telling you to give up, and just try to get adopted like any other kid.

But when the adults came in to adopt, they’d meet with the kids to see if they were allegeable.

They thought nothing could go wrong with a cute kid like you, but when they met with you, they lost patience with you, hearing you go on and on about how famous you were gonna be. Showing them photos of your favorite celebs and explaining that you’d make it farther than them. You were only a kid.

“Umm maybe something more realistic? How about a doctor sweetie? Or maybe a teacher?”

You looked at them weird. “Doctor? Teacher? I’m gonna be famous! Actor! Singer!” You sang. And their smiles dropped.

But soon adults stopped asking for you and you became shadowed. Didn’t matter how many cute faces you made or how mature you acted, they’d never choose you.

You watched as kids got picked by happy families, and you grew older as you were left behind. But this just made your dream grow. You know all the best celebs come from darker backgrounds, so you’d probably end up the most famous, right?

But the taunting never stopped. And as years went by it just got worse. It became the worse when you finally got your hands on a signed celebrity poster. A signed one. Your favorite celebrity. You had snuck out of the orphanage to get it signed, and the woman was so nice to you.

She told you she believed in you. And that was the first time you’d ever heard that.

But when you came back with it, shining, your face glowing and a smile wide and happy. They took your poster and ripped it to shreds.

Ripped your signed poster to shreds.

Told you, you were an idiot, and your favorite celebrity was an idiot, and you’d come to nothing.

And how you ended up on the news for the first time? You set the orphanage to blaze. Set it on fire. Years of taunting and torture, you’d burn it all to the floor. And rise above everyone.

You remember the news truck running to you, one of the only kids left standing. Pointing the mics in your face and camera straight at you, the news lady asking you to give a statement, to tell them what happened, how you feel.

Everyone was looking at you.

Everyone was awestruck.

Your remember that feeling like it was yesterday. And you remember the excellent way you played victim in front of the cameras.

All those auditions, those practices when you’d act by script in your little orphanage room, or you’d watch tapes in the basement on how to improve your acting. They all helped that day, that day where you shined on camera, acted your heart out and made everyone’s eyes tear up in how emotional you were. How you explained that a fire started and took out so many of your friends. That you were just some lonesome orphan, a victim.

That same week you got adopted. Well, basically. You were taken in as a foster child. Turns out one of the firefighters at the orphanage that day heard your little ramble, and their heart was quenched. Took you home to their little family and supported you. That’s when you realized how much you could change everything around you with something as simple as acting.

So you acted normal.

And continued playing house.

Now your an adult, void of any job or networking, really. You had a high school diploma, but it didn’t really mean anything in the kind of jobs you wanted.

You lived in the attic of some dweeb you’ve barely seen, rooming with some girl who’s barely around. All you know is that she’s extremely nerdy, and always at some Internet cafe or in her room coding.

You also, couldn’t care less. As long as you got that lone time to plan out your next move, your next plan on how to become famous, your golden.

But you’re starting to lose hope. Even your roommate who you barely see told you to get a real job, that your government funding for being a former foster kid won’t do you much, long term.

Alas, you continue. After having your fun following the celebs and running after the limos they drove off in, you skip your way home. However, passing by a sketchy alleyway, your pulled in.

“Why shouldn’t I kill your right now?”

A deep very gruffy voice asks you.

“You seem like quite a fan. A first kill being a fan might draw some attention hm?”

You look up at him. “Excuse me?”

A mask covers his face, he’s wearing a cloak that covers his head and hair. But did that muscly hand around your neck, and the other holding you around your torso. You could scream.. for other reasons then just murder.

“So… which one is she?”

It turns out, Ghostface, he calls himself, is quite the noob in celebs and fame, news and all that. But you, are an expert.

It also turns out he’s a hired killer, someone made to kill certain celebrities, someone to… send a message. But being someone so closed off he doesn’t know anything about them, and doesn’t feel like doing his research.

“She’s right there. The one in the grey sweatpants and faking her reps?”

He was puzzled when you told him about your expertise in celeb gossip and knowledge. The way you knew exactly where a celebrity would be at the moment.

“First kill.”

Now, you crouch at the window of some elite gym. Ghost face is extremely lucky of you, you’ve done this before. Stalked them, so you know where the cameras are and where the blind spots are, too.

“Wait here, pretty.” He tells you, and his deep dark voice makes you tingle a bit.

You stay crouching at the window, peeking through as you watch this masked man follow the celebrity into the showers. You hear a cut off scream, as if he had muffled her mouth right away. And then he steps back out with blood covering his cloak.

He jumps right out the window, but instead of greeting you like regular he shoved you against the wall, and puts a cloth over your mouth.

“Sorry, lil’ stalker. Can’t have a witness around. But I’ll keep ya alive, for yer’ help.”

And you pass out.

The next morning you awake in some random motel. You can’t help but think last night was some unfortunate weird dream. But by the drops of blood that aren’t yours that stain your shirt, the headache you have from inhaling those toxins, and the man at the counter that tells you your “boyfriend” had carried you in here. You know it’s real.

Now, you’re at another gala. This time, you made your way in. You pulled some strings, and you were able to make it in as a server, helpers to the caterers.

You still think about what that masked man said, about how he was planted to kill certain celebrities, and make a splash in modern media. Some kind of show he wanted to put on. And honestly he was quite good. His first kill, which you helped with, has scorn the news and surprised journalists and the paparazzi. Everyone was confused and concerned. The first kill being in such a private place it made fans worry of their own favorite celebrities. The police searched for clues and evidence, but due to your help in blind spots of cameras and ways to scoot past security, ghost face was never caught. People all over the internet mourn the celebrity’s death, but don’t expect there to be another kill. However you know the truth. The man’s words. How she wasn’t gonna be the last. His message to media.

But you try to forget, and instead focus on making connections. You know the people here are in the big leagues, and if your able to convince them, maybe you’ll be given a chance.

That’s when you overhear some celebs talking. The extremely famous ones. The ones you’ve seen on billboards and trucks, movie posters and more. Your curious, especially when you hear them talking about an extra exclusive party in the gala, one in a private room.

You need to sneak in. And you do. You find out more about it and realize that only the highest of the servers go to cater that small private event, servers who wear a certain outfit to show they that only serve the best. That’s how you’re gonna get in. So you do the unthinkable. Well, it’s not like there was extra uniforms ying around?

So you find one of these special caterers, and break a bottle over their head. You drag their unconscious but live body into a closet, stealing their collared shirt and tie, and that special brooch that shows your elite. You lock the closet and make your way to the private exclusive room.

This is your chance. Your chance to become elite like them, to get on the news again, to be famous.

But as you open the door to the elite room, you hear screams. ‘Please let elite room for celebrities not mean secret celebrity orgies please.’ You think. But as you peek into the door, you realize it’s so much different than that.

When blood seeps through the carpet and spills, as you hear screams and see a certain familiar masked man slash one of the elite celebrities necks, they fall to the floor as they convulse, holding their neck but the bleeding continues.

They all fall to the floor one by one, and you’re stunned. Before you could leave, leave and pretend this never happened, the door is swung open by one of the celebrities, one who is apparently trying to get away, and immediately they are slashed. The blood splatters onto you, and you hold your hands up trying to stop the blood from continuing its spray onto you.

“Well look who it is.” That familiar husky voice says, holding up the head of the victim he just slashed. The blood oozes from his slashed neck, his eyes bulging out his head, eyes rolled back and almost in its skull.

The masked man drops the victim onto the floor.

“I told you I didn’t want any witnesses.” He grabs you by the throat, pulling you into the elite room before slamming your head to the wall, pinning you there with his huge hand.

“W-wait! Wait don’t do this!” You beg. Your eyes scan the room and you see all the elites littered on the floor. Something in you pulses. Something you hope is fear or empathy, but it’s something different. Almost.. satisfaction. The people who’ve ignored you like the dirt on their shoes, people who you sweared to surpass. Dead, bloody, bodies on the floor like they were simple trash.

You accidentally let out a giggle.

“What was that?”

“Umm nothing, s-sorry.” You stumble, his hands increasing its hold on your neck. “W-wait! You- your doing this as some message to the public right?”

He stops, his hand still tightly around your neck, but he softens almost. “Yeah? So?”

“W-well I want.. I want fame. I can help! Like last time! If you let me live…”

You can’t tell what his expression is, hidden under the mask, but you can tell he’s confused, and a little amused.

“And what can you help with, little dove?”

“W-well I know all their info! Every celeb, really! I can nurse you.. I umm.”

“Nurse me? Info? I don’t need that, naive doll.”

“Wait!” You whine, fighting back. “I’ll spread your word. When they see me.. as the only one standing… the news will be everywhere. Asking questions.. and I’ll answer!” He stays quiet, and you know he’s considering it. “If you kill me- nobody will know it was you… but if I live, I can tell your story! How you killed all those celebrities in cold blood… The cold blooded killer Ghostface… I’ll relay whatever message you need me to say.”

His hand softens around your neck, but he still keeps a hold of you. The tip of his knife makes its way up your torso to your neck, right under his hand, where he pokes your skin.

“And what would you get out of that, little dove?”

“Fame. And my life… but fame. I’ll.. I’ll be on the news.” You sigh, almost of happiness at just the thought. “People will be looking to me.. the last standing victim.” ‘-like last time’ you wanna say.

He huffs. “As a victim, you don’t look very disheveled, do you?”

You look at him weirdly, confused, until he throws you down at the only spotless part of the carpet. You gasp, feeling your back thud against it, about to fight until he lands on top of you, pulling and tugging at your shirt.

“Yer’ sure cute. But look way t’satisfied with yourself to be a victim.”

“L-let me be your victim.” You sigh out, shakily. Hearing that, his hands rip your shirt off, and your arms go up to cover your lacy bra, whining at the intrusion.

He’s growling, obviously extremely satisfied with your little statement, and he’s shoving and tugging your pants down. “You’ll be way to disheveled after this- they’ll know you became my lil’ victim.”

“P-please.” You whine. You don’t know why, but his big muscly fucking body, that hand that had clasped around your neck had made you drip with excitement. He was just so big and so much taller, his biceps and muscles just busting through his cloak- god did it turn you on. He was like a monster. And you knew what was hiding in his pants was no less then terrifying.

He tugs down your lacy bra, bunching up your boobs as it bunches under your chest. He chuckles and tugs at your right nipple, smirking at your little whines and gasps as he continues to tug and twist. It leans down to swirl his tongue around your left nipple, giving it some attention, sucking softly and nibbling down a bit. If he’s this good with your nipples, you wonder how good he’d be with his mouth in other areas. However your getting restless, the biting and nibbling on your nipples becoming too much, as you slightly push him away so you can try and get a sense of what his figure looks like.

You start to claw at his cloak, which makes him chuckle, and he unclasps it to show off his tight shirt tucked into sweatpants. You force him to shrug down the cloak, staying around his elbows, as he pushes down his own pants.

You’re so excited. You’re basically day dreaming as he rubs you through your pink little panties. You just know that there will be thousands of news reporters and journalists wanting to interview you. Know your story, what happened. Then they’ll be the fans of the celebs who’ll look over to you for answers, who’ll go crazy at their favorites being murdered. But you’re there. There to anwser their questions and give false empathy, and hopefully, woo those fans as your own.

You’ll be famous over night.

“Come on doll, focus on me.”

You hadn’t even realized he had shoved your panties to the side, rubbing your clit and smooth tight circles. You whine out, back arching just a bit, you also noticed he had taken off his bloody glove, to touch you with his clean one.

His other hand, smears blood onto the side of your face with his bloody glove. He chuckles at how you grimace, the slimy substance dampening your cheek.

He rips that bloody glove off to rub at your nipples again, while his other hand rubs faster on your little clit, he chuckles watching you start to writhe more and try to push him off.

“Ah. Just wet enough, little dove.” His finger makes its way to your entrance, poking at it, gathering some of your essence before entering you. You whine at the intrusion. His fingers, are fucking big. And just one filled you up nicely. Grithy and tall, poking at your sides and your gummy walls.

“Cmon doll, open up.” He chuckles, starting to twist his finger. You whine and start to kick your legs, your head going to the side to try to avoid his burning stare, which you could feel through his mask.

Your eyes look at the bodies, the dead ones that litter the floors at your left. You look at one, recognizing his face. You remember when you had asked him for a photograph together last year. And you guessed perhaps you had pushed him too much, because he spat at your face and shoved you out the way. You grimace at the memory, but then smile at his dead body. He’s dead. And you’re getting finger fucked close to his corpse.

You cry out as the masked man adds a second finger and scissors it inside you, making room. You can’t help but wince at the thought that he’s making so much room inside you for a reason.

As he scissors you, he accidentally bumps into a spot inside you that makes you convulse.

“Ah? Right here? Little victim?” He stabs at the spot with his thick fingers, a bruising pace starts and you see stars.

“Don’t come. Or I’ll make you suck my cock, then you’ll have to explain to the cameras why there’s cum all over your face.” He chuckles darkly, almost amused at the idea.

“A-ah! P-puh-please!” You whine out, especially when his thumb dips into your wetness and starts to coat your clit, rubbing it softly.

“P-please..!”

You dont know his name. But you want to, you desperately want to, do you can scream his name.

“Toji, doll.”

“Toji!” You cry out, so close, almost there, your body quivering and pussy shaking. He wraps his hand around your throat, constricting your airways, chuckling as you claw at his hand that chokes your throat.

Tears start to leave your eyes at just how good he was making you feel, and at the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe.

“Atta girl. Nobodies gonna believe you without some tears.”

He finally takes his fingers out of you, slick covering them and a string of your essence connecting his fingers to your entrance.

“So wet for someone who was jus’ begging for their life.” He laughs, but your too busy to focus on breathing then his words when he finally takes his hand of your throat.

He pulls down his pants, and god do you gasp. His cock- no, a monster. Flings out of its confines and dribbles with precum.

“Hah.. I guess you got me a lil’ excited too, doll.”

He pushes the tip to your entrance, you can see the veins circle his cock, the angry tip gushing and the slight way it curves.

“W-wait! It’s not gonna- it’s not gonna fit!” You cry out, almost begging him not to ruin you.

“Shut it. I opened you up enough.” He rubs at your clit with his tip, making you kick at him some more. Which results in him grabbing your leg and pulling you towards him. “Nuh uh uh, no running away little dove.”

He nudged his tip in, sighing in the feeling of your pussy already trapping his cock into your tiny entrance. He slides in some more, you can feel every dip and vein and curve of his cock. You whine and claw at his big chest and biceps.

“T-Toji..” Your pussy is crushing his cock, enveloping it and sucking him in, as if you were milking his cock.

He grumbles and turns the both of you over, lying down as he slams you down on his cock, you straddling his hips. You scream out at the sudden full intrusion, and he chuckles, eyes rolling back.

“Come on doll. I’m exhausted. Be a good girl and break yourself on my cock, yeah?”

You whine out, but agree, moving your small hands to his chest, where you slowly lift yourself up and slide yourself back down on his cock. You both gasp, and you do it again. This time you try to add some rhythm, moaning out as you bounce on his cock.

The harder you bounce, the more his mask starts to slip, and that just adds to your excitement. The more you see it slip, the harder you start to go, crying and writhing as you jump on his cock but you just can’t seem to stop.

Your wet gushing insides pull him in, and he’s in a fucking trance. Watching you bounce up and down, looking for some sort of stability or comfort. He laughs, pushing the bottom of your thighs up before shoving into you some more, bouncing you up and down while also fucking up into you.

“That’s it… that’s it.. the cutest lil’ victim f’me…” He babbled, basically pussy drunk.

None of you want this to stop. However, you both feel that chilly feeling of your insides twisting and convulsing, knowing the both of you aren’t gonna last.

“Cmon doll. Come with me.” He holds your hip and your thigh as he fucks up into you. “You’ll be a good girl and come for me, yeah?” He’s basically babbling now, drool leaving his lips, and you can see that by his mask almost completely tips over.

You whine, clawing at his mask. “P-please.”

He chuckles, moving your hands away from his face.

“Fine, since ya asked so- fuck- nicely. And guess we’re teammates now, h-huh?” He stumbles on his words as he feels you milk his cock.

One hand goes down to your pussy, swiftly pressing down on your clit and rubbing fast, as his other hand shoved his mask off.

You gasp as you see his face. Dark lustful eyes, his lips adorn by a scar, his cheekbones and entire face harmony. The way you know with one look you’d pass away, he could kill you with that dark and sinister, evil look in his eyes. And you come at the sight.

Your body convulsed and you cried out, back arching as he tugged and pinched your clit meanly, following you soon after, pulling out and spilling onto his stomach and yours.

He gasps for air and so do you, you whimper as you fall forward onto his body, shivering and still slightly convulsing. You can feel his heart beat, the way it pounds against his chest and the way he heaves for a breath, a groan leaves his lips.

His hand brushed your hair and pulls you up. “Come on little dove. You’ve got a show to put on.”

He pulls you up, but lays you back down. Your still gasping for air, your eyes barely open and your body trembling. You feel your clothes being put on, even the ripped shirt. He cleans off his cum with what you assume is his cloak.

You open your eyes finally, to see him putting his mask back on, which makes you whine.

He laughs. “Don’t worry doll, you’ll see a lot more of me soon.” He carreses your hair, almost whisking you to slumber, your only half aware that there’s bodies littered around you.

He disappears, or rather, you’re too tired to notice he left.

When you open your eyes however, it’s because of unfamiliar people in your face, you’re still trembling, blood on your cheek that isn’t yours and lights in your face.

You’re on a gurney, being rolled away into an ambulance. Your eyes are a bit blurry but you see almost hundreds of people- and then there are the news reporters everywhere. They surround your gurney, the doctors weilding your not actually wounded body into the ambulance.

“Ma’am? Ma’am! Over here!” A man yells, pushing his camera in your face and lay the doctors, taking photos with flash on.

“Ma’am! What can you tell us about what happened? Ma’am?”

“Ghost… ghost face..” you breathe out, making all the reporters and journalists shiver with fright and widen their eyes.

“Ma’am? Ghost face? Tell us more about this cold blooded killer!”

There’s so many cameras in your faces, people talking, the cameras going off and flashing lights in your face.

“Ma’am! Over here!” A man snaps photos, a woman asks you questions, all the reporters and journalists following you and chasing you in the gurney until your put in the ambulance and the workers shut the truck doors.

The ambulance drives away, the siren rings and your ears and the workers ask if you can hear them, if you can answer some questions.

All you can think about was the lights. The people. The fame. How they all chased you down, like paparazzi.

“Am I.. famous?” You ask, a gasp leaving your lips.

“Well ma’am, you’re all over the news.” The doctor replied.

And you smile.

….

Thinking of doing a second part. But idk.

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junesilk · 1 year ago

Note

hiii just saw you were a new account and decided to drop by 🙉 loving the account btww

as for a suggestion, how about some kurapika dating head canons? thank you🫶

DATING HEADCANONS

aka: how the hxh main 4 act in a relationship!

characters: kurapika, leorio, killua, gon

gn!reader

kurapika—

The way your relationship started was a slow ordeal. And by that, I mean, it was a gradual shift from friendship to something… more.

You fell first, but he fell harder type of relationship.

It took him a while to realize that what he felt was love, but when he did, he was quick to act.

Sitting you down and having an adult conversation about how he felt was how he confessed.

He’s a soft lover, and protective of you. It can feel a little overbearing at times, but really he’s just trying to keep you safe.

Not the most physical out of the four, but he often has his hand on your waist or holding yours.

It would have been a while into your relationship when he finally relayed what had happened to him as a child, with his clan & all.

He’s very open about everything about himself to you after that. You’d ask him to tell you stories about his family, and he would gladly oblige, avoiding sensitive topics.

His hands would be combing through your hair as you laid your head on his lap, looking up at him as he quietly told you about his mother. His other hand would be tangled in yours, drawing little circles on the back of your hand.

He lives for those hushed moments with you, tangled in sheets as he memorizes the details of your face, just talking about anything and everything that comes to mind.

leorio—

He’s a very sexual lover in my opinion, so you’d have to be okay with that before being in a relationship with him.

He’d probably confess his love to you on a whim, probably when you’re least expecting it. He fell first and harder, that’s just the way he is.

Genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and he treats you like it too.

Takes you on romantic, candlelit dinners at least once a month. An allotted day, in which he makes sure you’re free from work or any distractions, for the two of you to get dressed up and go out.

He’d be insistent that he needed to be in your arms in order to go to sleep. He claims he can’t sleep without you, but you’d occasionally find him with his head on his desk, glasses lazily strewn aside while soft snores leave his lips.

Loves it when you tie his tie. He knows how to do it himself, yes, this is true. But when your hands diligently and softly pull the fabric together around his neck, he falls even deeper in love with you.

Listens to jazz music. I will die on this hill. Pulls you into his arms when you’re trying to make dinner, and sways with you to the sound of the song playing in the background.

killua—

His favorite pastime is being with you, playing videos games. It doesn’t matter what, even better if it’s some low-quality game for duos. It’s endearing how competitive he gets, jokingly betting that he could finish the game so much faster than you could.

His fashion sense infects your fashion sense, and before long, you’re wearing his clothes. Loves when the two of you wear matching outfits, or even just similar styles. Out in public, at home, wherever you are.

Dates with him usually reside in arcades, malls, or wherever you like to go. He never lets you pay for anything, insisting that it’s nothing, even if the sum is well into the thousands.

Sharing earbuds with him is also one of his favorite things to do. You two have a shared playlist of all of the songs you like. After a few months, you notice how he has begun adding songs he thinks you’d like, and you had been adding songs you think he would like.

Buy him candy, and he will serve his heart to you on a platter. The first time you bought him those beloved chocolate robots he had loved so much, he seriously considered marrying you. Only to be dismayed when he realized that people his age shouldn’t be getting married.

He’s very sarcastic. You’ll have to put up with some downright sassy responses if you want to be in a relationship with him.

Prefers texting over calling if you’re long distance.

gon—

He radiates energy and loves to be doing something at all hours of the day. This can be good or bad depending on the type of person you are, as he adores going on hikes and traveling with you.

Likes it when you brush his hair. He doesn’t know what exactly about it he likes, but he finds himself leaning in to your touch when you card your fingers over his scalp.

Picnic dates for life. Just being outdoors with food and his partner, he could die of happiness.

Wears earth-toned clothing. You find yourself stealing his tank tops most often, because he always buys pure cotton clothes. They’re just comfier, he argues, and not at allll because he loves how they cling to your scent after you wear them.

Isn’t on his phone very much. You’ll text him asking what you think you should wear that day, and he might respond two days later with an answer. It’s frustrating sometimes, but being with him is like a breath of fresh air from such an online world.

Always loses at board games. No matter what game, from Monopoly to Life, he just can’t fully grasp the rules. Hey, at least that means you always win.

His body naturally runs really warm, so you’ll wake up in the mornings find all of the blankets are on the floor. You don’t really need them when you’re stuck to him like legos when you’re cuddling at night.

guys…….. two weeks turned into an entire month and a half IM SORRRYYYY. anyways i keep getting requests for singular characters and i always turn it in to requests for all four because honestly there’s not enough content out there for characters like leorio and gon and they deserve love too.

as always, likes and reblogs appreciated but not necessary!

#kurapika x reader #kurapika #kurapika kurta #kurapika x you #leorio x reader #leorio #leorio paradinight #killua x reader #killua zoldyck #killua x you #gon x reader #gon freecss #junesilk #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader

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seandiazworms · 1 year ago

Text

sean diaz fluff alphabet (rq)

(A) attractive - what do they find attractive about u? how do they show this?

sean is attracted to anyone or anything that deviates the norm. dyed hair, unique background/perspective, and unconventional features. literally anything u think is unattractive and not up to the beauty standard about u, he probably rlly digs it. hell draw it in his journal always! but not in a way that comes across performative—he just draws u authentically. he doesnt feel the need to modify how u look in his art bc he thinks ure perfect as is (booo corny).

he shows his attraction through flesh-blazing, skull-burning staring. he analyzes his muses thoroughly after all... he knows where all ur freckles/moles are and can draw ur smile from sheer memory. in the months that he crushed on u, u couldn’t help but feel this pestering feeling of being watched in class constantly.

hes still a dorky teenage boy so if u share the same music taste as him or have the same hobbies hell geek out!! “no way she can skate AND listens to my favorite songs…” lyla will just roll his eyes at him in response. he acts like tom from 500 days of summer 😭

(B) baby - how do they act around kids?

sean definitely says he hates kids. hell talk about how annoying they are and use daniel as an example ALWAYS. that however does not hide the fact that he is REALLY good with kids. i wouldnt say its in a fatherly way but kids tend to look up to him as a cool older brother (even when he doesnt try to be one).

sean also secretly loves it when ur good with kids, despite him allegedly hating them. he cant help but grin ear-to-ear when he sees how happy u make daniel. once he becomes self-aware he tries to wipe his smile off asap. when u, sean, and daniel go out u guys are practically his parents. both of u know how to shut down daniels whining fast. albeit sean does more of the hushed, frustrated demands and u just try to defuse daniel.

(if u guys have ever seen the video of jake and tara with that baby thats how i imagine u guys with kids 😈 except ur both a mix of tara n jake)

honestly the two of u can never decide who’s big spooning and who’s little spooning. to solve this issue the two of u just kind of… stack on top of each other.

esteban will do his routine dad check up on the two of u (preventing teen pregnancy) and walk into u guys jenga-ed on top of each other. ur legs are a tangled mess and u look like two corpses laid on top of each other. scrolling through ur phones while stacked is the go-to. ull be muffled chuckling into sean’s stomach at random videos for an hour…

while cuddling sean always traces little drawings/words on ur body. when u ask him whats hes drawing hell probably say its a dick LMFAO. so romantic 🙄

at the beginning of ur relationship, sean always felt the need to be the “man” and cradle u like some big infant. overtime he got more comfortable and whenever u guys watch movies on the couch hell be sprawled out on top of ur lap. one arm up supporting his head and a leg propped up like a princess xoxo

(D) dates - what are dates with them like? what do they like to do?

concerts, fairs!!! and MOVIES for sure

sean casually drops half his check on good seats for one of ur guys favorite band. the two of u have a tradition of replaying their music for weeks until the concerts about to start. it literally does not matter how many times uve gone to concerts with sean—u guys stay excited every single time. the after concert high is so good and u guys always kiss in the car afterwards. the two of u mess up each other’s hair and shuffle back in ur seats with swollen lips. sean backs out the parking lot while awkwardly clearing his throat 😭

SEAN IS SUCH A BIG FAIR GUY. he gives less than two shits if the pop-up fairs are shady and will probably collapse at the slightest gust of wind. he WILL take u on all the janky rides and tease u for being freaked out. he holds ur hand while giggling like a lil boy on the ferris wheel bc the creaking starts to freak the both of u out. he also tries to win fair prizes for u and say its a “bullshit scam” when he loses.

u beg him to go into the photobooth and take cute little couple-esque photos. he says “fineee” after some convincing with a smile and he avoids ur gaze after too. he definitely secretly wanted to the whole time though!! when they print out, they come out with those face-adjusting filters. u guys are WHEEZING laughing in front of the slot where they regurgitate out those abominations. sean puts it on the back of his phone case bc he thinks its so hilarious 😭

sean is a film nerd considering he had goodlands on his laptop. hes definitely up to date on any movie releases and will want to watch anything new with u. u guys always dissect the movie aggressively afterwards. the both of u will forever and always argue about which characters u liked and didnt over some takeout.

(E) equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

sean on the regular is passive. he never was the “dominant” type to like… back u into corners. in fact he was really awkward when u first met him. hes lowkey scared of women 😭

it took him a while to get comfortable/assertive. by “comfortable” i mean gaining the ability to tease u back LMAO. when he first gave u a snarky remark ur jaw kind of hung open and u guys HAVENT STOPPED SINCE. overall, sean usually was the one to wait for u to initiate something. he never wanted to put u in a situation ud be uncomfortable with.

(F) fight - would they be easy to forgive their s/o? how are they fighting?

u guys fight like an old married couple. playful arguments always happen but once it becomes serious/personal things go south. one thing leads to another and the two of u just get agitated with each other

when u guys do seriously fight sean eventually lets u have ur way ALWAYS. he always prioritizes what u need/feel in the end and is really good at saying sorry. a part of him feels like big fights indicate ull leave him so hell always choke out things like “i just dont wanna lose you” after arguments. it sounds really dramatic but he has DEEP-rooted abandonment issues. hell hold u—whether it be an embrace or ur hand just to feel comforted afterwards.

(G) gentle - how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

GAWWWWWWWWWDAUH sean is so incredibly very gentle. sure, he teases u sometimes but in the end, again, he always makes sure ur comfortable! he asks u if ur okay when u look clearly overstimulated/out of it.

physically, sean doesnt mess around. he will constantly playfully shove u, mess with ur hair, etc. obviously its never to the point where it hurts but this is the only way he can get his daily dose of pda, so!

(H) hugs - do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?

sean is crazy on back hugs. he will always surprise u with one and he WILL trap u in it. ull be walking around his house and chatting with his leech-self wrapped around u. he likes nuzzling his nose in and u can feel his lips curl into a smile on the nape of ur neck when u make a joke (😢)

sean takes the opportunity to embrace u at any moment of privacy hes given. when daniel or esteban catches him he immediately flings off u and starts stuttering LMAO. hes kind of lanky so if anything his clothes are what cushion u. BUT he is very warm and is a personal heater #tbh. who needs a coat when u have sean???

(I) i love you - how fast did they say the l-word?

i feel sean is VERY quick to fall in love but takes forever to actually utter the words out. he will have a love at first sight moment with u and only have the feelings grow bigger and bigger as time goes on. sean is overall a reserved person and wouldnt go out of his way to tell u, no matter how much lyla encouraged him.

he would only say it once it becomes overbearing for him. like, to the point where the extent he loves u has become pervasive and PERSISTENT. it will just explode out of him at some pivotal moment. u guys will be laughing hysterically at something only u guys would laugh at. then, boom, it slips out like its something he had to swallow back down a hundred times before. because its so sudden, it will definitely catch u off guard.

he would repeat it because he didnt think u heard it the first time like a dork. his stomach acid is doing fucking somersaults at this point. u will visibly see this guy’s face drop and his hands start to fiddle anxiously. his eyes will kind of dart all over ur shocked face in fear. he’ll choke a lil “sorry i have no clue why i even said that-“

u lean in and the rest is history 🤓

(J) jealousy - how jealous do they get? when do they get jealous?

sean is always a bit wary of specific guy friends or potential suitors u have in ur life. again, sean picks up on LOTS that most people brush over. he knows when people flirt with u and he always bites his tongue before he says anything.

whenever u talk about other people too much, he gets a little… sassy. ull be thanking some guy in ur class for giving u the answers and hell be grumbling “i wouldve gave them to u…” under his breath. u shoot a look at him and he just defensively puts his arms up LMAO. he never seems to stop either. the amount of times u caught him rolling his eyes… criminal.

(K) kisses - what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss u? where do they like to be kissed?

sean is so shy when it comes to kisses. when u first began dating, sean never kissed u without a shy “can i?” before. he never knew when was appropriate or if u wanted to kiss him at all. his ears would flare up in red and his eyebrows would furrow in concentration each time.

overtime, as he got more comfortable, sean began finding the “right times” himself. whenever u leave his house he always gives u a quick peck. daniel never misses his opportunity to scream “EWW” as loud as he can. sean will be like “one more” and smooch ur cheek and then say “wait another one” and just KEEP GOING. if he wore lipstick u would look like u were dunked in a pig’s blood.

smiling into the kiss happens without fail—every single time. sean cant help himself, hes a lover boy!! he will always slowly open his eyes and pray u wont catch him sneaking a look. once he pulls away, he laughs while covering his mouth with his wrist. he gets butterflies still, no matter how many times u kiss 😭 im sick.

(L) love language - what is his love language?

sean’s family is big on quality time so he definitely prioritizes it. impromptu hangouts are his absolute favorite and if he could, hed spend every hour he could with u. sean never fails to randomly invite u over and hold u at gunpoint to do family time with him, daniel, and esteban.

also sean is a big gift giver! he will always give u doodles of ur favorite characters and little things that remind him of u. u guys have matching pins, keychains, bracelets, etc. not only does he go all out, but he also knows EXACTLY what u like. again, sean is the most attentive bf ever. hes the kind of man who would spend hours making coraline dolls of u two.

(M) mornings - how are mornings spent with him?

sean is not a morning person. he is almost always running late to first period, so oftentimes u cover for him. he will come to class with messy hair and will lizard-blink at literally anything u say. when u tell him that u gave the teacher an excuse, hell let out a croak-ey "thanks" and he will on a 99% chance knock out right after. he'll probably dazily open his eyes at u every so often and go back to sleep LMAO.

on weekends, sean will... barely be awake for mornings. ull be up and ready, watching hawt dawg man on the couch with daniel while eating cereal. sean shortly comes out of his mancave, stretching and yawning. hell come to lean on ur shoulder and stare blankly at the screen. its never particularly productive but sean couldnt care less honestly.

(N) nicknames -what does he call u?

sean has a disdain for nicknames. uttering any of them out loud just seemed so embarrassing to him… unless he’s making fun of them. he does however love “girlfriend.” its not exactly a nickname but he loves saying ur his girlfriend or “my girlfriends coming over” to people.

at a certain point he started using it in sentences that wouldn’t make sense. he’d go “hi girlfriend” every time he sees u. he’s so stew peed… 😢

(O) on cloud nine what is he like when he’s in love? is it obvious for others?

lyla never hears the end of u. shell be talking about something entirely unrelated and sean will be disassociating with his mouth open. when he finally snaps back into reality the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “do u think she would find it a turn off that u drive me everywhere?…“

“yeah obviously— were u even listening sean?”

“mm okay…” he just goes back to tuning her out again LMAO.

esteban will be asking for his tools from sean and he’d be totally zoned out just thinking about u. esteban will pull himself out from under the car and groan “augh… lover boy…” without sean even saying anything to him… so yes hes obvious.

(P) pda - is he upfront about your relationship? does he brag about you with others? or he rather shy to kiss, etc. when others are watching?

i already wrote on this but sean would rather keep intimate contact privately. that is, unless hes really in the heat of the moment. for example, at a concert hed just get so riled up. the lyrics of the song perfectly aligning with the way he feels about u MIGHTTT just make him collide lips with u, who knows! at special moments he won’t hesitate to kiss u but he’s just usually not a show-ey person.

too many times have the two of u attempted to sneak away to be romantic alone and gotten caught. whether it be lyla, esteban, daniel, or any of sean’s guy friends—they always tease u guys. lyla is so dramatic and she’d probably do the most, screaming and squawking when all she sees is sean hugging u 😭

(Q) quizzes - how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?

just like i mentioned earlier, sean remembers every little thing. he knows which side of ur smile leans more toward, the distinctive mole on ur arm, etc etc etc. he loves u like how a husband with a camcorder loves his late wife <3

sean has pulled multiple joe goldbergs before u started dating. he will give u some small knick knack of ur favorite video game/show/band and ull thank him, visibly confused on when u mentioned it. hell notice and just go “i heard u talk about it like three months ago.” he only realizes HOURS LATER how creepy he sounded and his ass will start sliding down a wall dramatically in his room.

(R) rosy - what makes them blush?

sean is quick to blush. honestly, any time u guys are intimate in any sort of way his ears are probably burning up. he’ll try to hide that he’s nervous by giving u quick one-liners back but inside his heart is RACING.

(S) security - how protective are they? how would they protect you?

sean goes to great lengths to protect people he loves, like u. in relation to actual life is strange 2 lore, sean definitely does anything in his power to not involve u in the incident. if u try to contact him or find him, he’ll probably be EXTREMELY upset. at first, all he can think about is how much he wants u away from all this mess. he just wants u to live a normal life—and if that meant being far away from him he’d be okay with it. u would beg him to let u back in his life and eventually, with much hesitation, he’d oblige. keeping u alongside daniel on the road allowed u to see another side to sean. he had been hit and came back up so many times just for u. all he wants in his life is to keep u safe.

exempt from life is strange 2 lore, sean always does little things to keep u safe. there are many times where he treats u like daniel—aka a big baby LMAO. he’s big on acts of service as well so he’ll always make u walk on the inside of the sidewalk, hold ur hair away from ur face when it’s windy, help u jump off of places too high up, etc.

(T) try - how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

he’s so bf coded of course he puts maximum effort at all times! he gets crafty for you every anniversary—a collection of drawings of u and a curated playlist/burnt cd is the MINIMUM he’s capable of. he’s the kind of boyfriend that can actually pick up on subtleties. something u mentioned liking once? it’s now in his cart.

when sean feels like switching it up he’ll try to do things he’s not used to like pottery and completely fail 😭. he has some place in the back of his closet for all the clunky diy gifts he’s tried to make for u in the past. despite this, he’ll give u a perfect trinket dish and u’ll wonder how he’s so good at everything… well, one day in his room he’ll ask u to go get something from his closet. u go inside and see a cardboard box with 15 versions of that very same trinket dish he made.

(U) understanding - how well do they know their partner?

sean does his best at understanding you as a person. when u talk about complicated emotions and unique experiences he doesn’t quite share, he’ll have this really pensive expression. he nods along and tries to understand ur perspective to the best of his ability. because of this, its really easy to open up to sean.

sean has you down to a T. hes so so so perceptive and knows when u feel uncomfortable. a small falter in ur smile, the glossy glint in ur eyes, ur lip quivering, he sees it ALL. he will immediately try to get u out of whatever situation ure in.

(V) vanity - how concerned are they with looks?

he could give less than two farts tbh. he loves when u look like a mess, more drawing opportunities for him. he however will make a big deal about looking good in front of u. he will be styling his hair for an hour in front of the mirror before going on a date with u, hogging the bathroom. he also practices the way he approaches u and lays out his outfits to impress u LMAO.

(X) xtra headcanon

sean loves cats so much. if u have a cat, he will spend the whole time at ur house trying to befriend them. bro will be crawling all over ur house on all fours... it gets to the point where u guys can never pass by a petsmart without sean making an impromptu visit to see the cats. plus, u guys have matching cat profile pictures!!!

(Y) yearning - how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

sean coops up and calls and texts u as much as u can. its to the extent where he will send u nonsensical texts just so he can open ur guys' chat. ur phone will be vibrating so much and out of curiosity ull open it to just see random symbols and letters strung together. he'll send u random photos throughout the day that remind him of u and make unplanned video calls. u guys do mundane tasks together in silence for HOURS. they never fail to end with him just falling asleep on call.

(Z) zzz - what are their sleep habits?

sean is NOT a morning person. because daniel’s usually the one that wakes him up, he will slam a pillow into ur face when ur just trying to wake him up. he will open his eyes to see u and mumble a “shit sorry…” and snake his hand around u back into bed. he will hold u PRISONER under those sheets. if u try to shuffle out he will snake another arm around u. u're essentially held hostage until sean decides he wants to set u free... cruel world.

unfortunately i feel like this is very lackluster and COULDVE BEEN BETTER idk. also not proofread so sorry if this was... inchuresting to read... it also sucked me dry so i think i may have to start writing ACTUAL fanfics instead of hcs😢😢😢 thank u if u did enjoy though...

#life is strange 2 #sean diaz #sean diaz hcs #sean diaz x reader #daniel diaz #esteban diaz

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he4dlin3 · 2 months ago

Text

“ Quiet Mornings, Louder Hearts —Z.M ”

Pairing ; Zayn Malik x Fem! reader

Synopsis ; You weren’t expecting to fall in love with someone like Zayn Malik—famous, private, elusive. But somehow, in quiet mornings and late-night conversations, it just happened. Slowly, then all at once.

Material list | Navigation

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It was a quiet Sunday morning, the kind where the sun filtered softly through gauzy curtains and the world outside felt miles away.

Zayn was still asleep when you wandered into the kitchen, one of his oversized hoodies hanging loose on your frame, sleeves brushing your fingertips. The place smelled like fresh coffee and a hint of whatever cologne he wore the night before—something woodsy, warm, and him.

You moved slowly, not wanting to wake him yet. Sundays were sacred, and even more sacred were the few mornings he had off—no photoshoots, no studio deadlines, no flights to catch. Just silence, bare feet on hardwood, and the steady rhythm of your lives bleeding gently into one another.

You poured two mugs of coffee, adding the exact amount of sugar and creamer he liked, remembering the first time he’d teased you for drinking it too sweet.

You turned at the sound of quiet footsteps.

Zayn, shirtless and sleepy-eyed, hair still a little messy, scratched the back of his neck as he walked into the kitchen. His tattoos peeked out under the low waistband of his joggers, and he blinked at you like you were still part of a dream he wasn’t ready to leave.

“You made coffee?” he asked, voice still husky with sleep.

You nodded, handing him his mug, and watched as he took a sip and sighed like it was the best thing he’d had in weeks.

Neither of you said much at first.

It wasn’t the kind of morning that needed words.

He leaned against the counter while you sat on a stool, legs tucked under you, nursing your own cup. The kitchen was bathed in sunlight, and somewhere in the distance, a car passed on the street. Everything felt simple.

Eventually, he looked at you.

“D’you ever think about how different things would be if we met before… all this?”

You glanced up. “Before the fame?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Like, if we’d passed each other in school. Or at some coffee shop. Wonder if I still would’ve noticed you.”

You smiled. “I think you would’ve.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the kind of person who sees things no one else does. You would’ve noticed.”

Zayn studied you like he was memorizing every word, every expression. “I think I was always meant to find you. Doesn’t matter when or how.”

You felt it then—that soft swell of emotion that always came with him. It was never overwhelming, never forced. Just a steady hum, like background music you could fall asleep to. He didn’t rush you. He never did.

After breakfast, you ended up curled on the couch, a blanket shared between you, your legs tangled. Zayn had one arm around your shoulder, fingers idly brushing your arm, and the other hand holding his sketchbook, balanced against his knee.

He wasn’t working on anything in particular—just lines, shading, pieces of something he’d probably leave unfinished but would swear wasn’t important.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“You’re quiet today,” he murmured, looking down at you.

“I’m just… happy,” you said simply.

His fingers stilled for a second, and he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Me too.”

You dozed off eventually, lulled by his steady breathing and the faint scratch of pencil against paper. When you woke up, the sun had shifted, casting a golden glow across the room.

Zayn was still there. Still drawing. Still with you.

And in that moment, it felt like the world outside had stopped turning—just for a little while.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

#one direction #harry styles #louis tomlinson #liam payne #niall horan #zayn malik #x reader #zayn malik x reader #zayn malik x y/n #harry styles x reader #zayn malik fanfiction #louis tomlinson x reader #harry styles fanfiction

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ineed-to-sleep · 1 month ago

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Don't wanna be a bother but I bumped into ur touchstarved oc stuff and do you have any pointers for drawing in the touchstarved style? I can't really nail it down 100% but you do so... pretty please?

Hii yeah ofc, it's no bother at all no worries! You sent me this at the right time actually jsdhksd I'm in the middle of redesigning Emma right now and I've been taking a close look at the art style again, so it's all fresh in my mind!

Assuming you already have your design ready and have found a pose or composition you like, replicating the art style will probably come down to getting the lineart and shading to look similar.

About the lineart:

Probably goes without saying, but you'll need a pen with the opacity turned off to get the clean, ink-like lines. If you use CSP I recommend the default textured pen, which I think has a similar look, but honestly any pen will do.

The thing you have to look out for the most when doing the lines is the darkest shadows. It's a bit tricky to explain, and I think a lot of it comes with practice, but you have to look for the places where the darkest shadows would be, or where the light could barely reach. Once you spot them, instead of shading them you create a sharp shape and paint them black, like so:

I also recommend varying the thickness of your lines, but not at random. Instead, try to keep lighting in mind while you draw them. You could draw one continuous thin line for something, and then only thicken it where it falls away from the light, or where it'd create an occlusion, or wherever you want a shape to stand out from another. A thick line will essentially either "push back" or separate things in space, while a thin line will pull it forward or make things look like they're closer together.

You can also exaggerate the shadows in order to create more contrast. Like in the case of Kuras' sleeves and coat, for example- you could argue that some bounce light could still get in there, but with the shadows exaggerated it creates a really nice, clean shape. You can also separate these shapes from other lines by leaving a small space between them and the lines.

The metal might look a bit different, but it follows the same logic as everything else- your darkest shadows will be pure black. It might look like it has more shadows but that's just because it's more reflective, so the light is usually concentrated on highlight and bounce light areas, so the tones around those areas will be darker.

About the shading:

From what I've noticed, it's all about keeping it subtle and simple. If you color pick the characters, you can see the variation between light and shadow is subtle and not all that contrasting. Most of the contrast is done with colors, not values.

The light source is usually from the top right, characters are pretty well lit, and there's a little bit of a blue backlight from the left that helps them stand out against the backgrounds.

The shading is mostly sharp, cel shading, rarely blended. Wherever there's blending, it's usually subtle or a gradient

They also use gradations to indicate color shifts, like the colors in Leander's coat. You can do this with the gradient tool or an airbrush.

I recommend picking 1 color for light, 1 color for shadow, and maybe 1 inbetween midtone to use sparingly in places where you want a very subtle shadow. You can go more fancy if you're trying to create something that looks more like the game's CGs, but if you're going for the same look as the sprites, it's better to keep it simple.

You can shade manually each part of the character, or you can try using a multiply layer. For multiply, I like shifting the color towards a warm or pinkish tone and keeping it light and desaturated to get a similar look as the sprites.

Highlights are used very sparingly, only on a few places like the nose, mouth, eyes, and a few on the hair. Maybe occasionally somewhere else, but only if necessary, like in the case of very reflective materials like metal, gold, glass and leather.

The characters also usually have subtle textures on their clothes, and you can quickly create something similar by using a textured brush and an overlay or multiply mode. Like so:

It's subtle, but makes a difference in my opinion! You can try this with a lot of different textured brushes to get the exact look you're going for.

That's all I could think of right now! If you have any questions or wanna know anything specific I didn't mention here, let me know!

#hope this helps! :]#touchstarved #touchstarved game #asks #art tips #art advice

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matryosika · 2 years ago

Text

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth.

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?”

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway.

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?”

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”.

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”.

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished.

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind.

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”.

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”.

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung.

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”.

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”.

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to.

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder.

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back.

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards.

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees.

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”.

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you.

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”.

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches.

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”.

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit.

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations.

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it.

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it.

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?”

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”.

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”.

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you.

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time.

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up.

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable.

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there.

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you.

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?”

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast.

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile.

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #han smut #jisung smut #bangchan smut

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hannamoon143 · 5 months ago

Text

Die with a Smile

Nobody‘s promised tomorrow

So imma love you every night like it‘s the last night

Cause i wanna hold you just for a while, and die with a smile

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆

Words: 5,2k

Genre: angst, fluff, comfort(…?), christmas

Hyunjin x fem. Reader

Warnings: Cancer!!!! So sickness, food, crying, sickingly sweet fluff, fears, , all i want for christmas by mariah carey (yes that needs a warning),death,non-sexual nudity (they r just bathing), cinnamon (sorry but- warning needed),

A/n: hi! I had so much fun writing this, and it‘s also for the StayblrHolidayEvent . I hope yall enjoy this also since it‘s my first christmas fic. Also as u can see it’s a bit inspired from die with a smile (bruno mars & lady gaga). Basically It’s just those lines i wrote over there kinda inspired me how to write the emotions and thoughts and stuff. So now, take ur hot chocolate, a fuzzy blanket and read! Merry christmas and happy holidays to yall🎄💕✨

You were laying down next to hyunjin, watching the other guys in front of you, while he was sketching most probably them or the decorated livingroom, or just the whole scene in front of him. Felix, Chan and Minho had come over, and now they were laughing as they decorated your tree, the rest of the livingroom, and singing christmas songs. The christmas joy had definitely taken over them, also if you couldn‘t really feel anything of it.„Don‘t you wanna get up and help them?“ Hyunjin mumbled quietly to you, not looking up from his sketch. He did that so often lately. He sketched simple scenes or things he saw, shutting almost everything else out. As if he wanted to remember everything to the smallest detail. „No, i‘m good here with you.“ You responded, laying your head on his shoulder. He sighed quietly, and kept drawing in silence for a while, the only noise was the guys bantering and christmas songs playing in the background. Then he spoke up again, quietly. „Y/nnie, you don‘t have to always sit around me and baby me alright? Don‘t think i don‘t know why you are doing this, and don‘t think i didn‘t hear you crying in the bathroom. I‘m well aware of the situation, but why can‘t we just make the best out of it? I feel like all this is getting to you more than to me, when it‘s literally me who is going to die.“ You froze at his words.

Last christmas, hyunjin had been diagnosed with cancer, and the worst was it was a type that could never be healed. They had told you that he had about one more year to live. That time you broke down entirely, and already there it was you who seemed to be more affected than him. But over a bit time you started acting normal again, not constantly being around him and doing everything for him. But now the year was coming to an end, and christmas was standing on the frontdoor. With that everything came back. You suddenly were all over him, not once leaving his side, and everytime he wanted to get up or something you pressed him down and did whatever he wanted to do for him.

The worst was you could feel it. Somewhere inside you had always hoped that the doctors were just wrong and hyunjin wouldn’t die in the next sixty years. But you saw that they were right. The way he slowly began to always eat a bit less than before, the way the circles under his eyes got darker, and his cheekbones more visible. You hated it. You didn’t hate him of course, you could never, but you hated this stupid cancer and what it was doing to your hyunjin. It was taking him painfully slow out of this world. With him getting worse you were too. You wanted to be strong for him, and for him to have the happiest last christmas ever but you couldn’t help it, the weight of the fact that soon he wouldn’t be there anymore was dragging you down too much, when you knew that it only hurt him more to see you like this, altough you always tried to hide it.

So there you were now. You stiffened and took your head off his shoulder, to look him in the eye. „Don‘t say it like that hyun-“

„No, i will in fact say it like that, cause i‘m not gonna lie to any of us for longer.I know that i‘m going to die, and you know it too okay? So why can‘t we enjoy the time left, and just do everything like we used to, instead of you constantly acting like i‘m some kind of fragile doll that could break at any moment? You acting like a overprotective mom isn‘t gonna change a single thing, as much as it hurts to hear that. Think about it y/n. Because i don‘t want to sit on this couch or in my bed the rest of my life. I‘m not doing this y/n.“ His voice was thick with emotion, and he had kicked his sketchbook away. He stood up, in fact needing a bit time to get up, and to lean onto the wall, but he went into your room, shutting the door. You stared at the closed door, with an empty hollow gaze. The other guys now excused themself and left. But before he left, chan said to you with a guilty smile: „Not everything he said is true, but you should think about some parts. Bye y/nnie.“

Now you were left alone in the silence. Hyunjin’s sketchbook was laying open on the floor, and the pages were a bit scaped now. He was going to be mad at himself for that later. You picked it up, wanting to close it, but then you saw his sketch from today. It wasn’t the scene in front of him, it was you, looking a bit sad. Under the drawing he wrote

My sad girl, 2024

When is she gonna be my happy girl again?

A tear ran down your cheek. He was always very empathetic and he hated when you felt down. Why hadn‘t you thought of the fact that you being like this only weighed him more down?

You cuddled up under the blanket that was still warm from hyunjin, tears slowly falling down. You knew he was right. Of course he wanted to enjoy his life, as long as he was still able to. Because no matter what you were going to do, it wasn‘t gonna change anything anyways, so why not enjoy instead of being sad and regretful when he was still with you, still breathing, still being able to smile at you?

After a while you could finally get yourself to go to him again. You braced yourself and got up, knocking on the door of your shared room. He just faintly sniffled. You opened the door slowly, seeing him huddled up under a blanket. He was crying, and it broke your heart. Hyunjin was a sensitive guy, and he hated arguing with loved ones more than anything, so you should have known that this would get to him, also if he was acting careless and tough. You kept being quiet, just sitting down on your side of the bed. You started stroking his hair, at wich he only started crying more. After a while of being like this in silence, the only sounds his quiet crying and the air cnditioner in the background, he lowered the blanket and looked at you with red eyes. „I don‘t want to die either y/n. I just… i‘m trying to be strong cause you are hurting so much,and i‘m so sorry for leaving you alone my love-“ His voice broke, and more tears spilled over onto his red cheeks. You opened your arms for him, and he didn‘t hesitate. He immediately moved a bit so his head was laying on your chest now. Quickly you wrapped your arms around him, kissing his head, while a few tears trailed down your cheeks too. Of course you knew. „I know, i know hyunnie. But you don‘t need to be strong all the time. I can‘t cure the cancer, but we are in this together. You can tell me how you feel, and i will give you space when you need it, but be by your side whenever you want it too. And i also promise to not act like a overprotective mom anymore.“ He chuckled a bit through his tears at that, wich made you do so too. „See, everything‘s okay. You are not alone, and as long as we can spend time together, i’ll be with you, trying to make your time left the best you ever had. How about tomorrow we make a christmas day? Like we go to the christmas market, bake gingerbread in the afternoon and sing christmas songs, all while we have ugly christmas sweaters on?“ you both started laughing, the tears finally stopping. He nodded,his face squished against your hoodie now, and his breathing was evening out. Maybe you really shouldn‘t take everything that serious. Because now it wasn‘t that point where you would have to say goodbye. You had no idea how much, but you had some time left to spend together, and you would try to make the best out of it. You would love him till the very end, and even after that, you‘d still do so. And as long as he was next to you would also tell him that, and make sure that when he had to go, he would do so in peace. So you closed your eyes, and in this little moment, everything that mattered was hyunjin, entirely squished against you, and you, holding him, as long as you could. The stars could have looked down at you two that night, and altough hyunjin was sick, and paths of the tears that you both cried earlier still lingered on your cheeks, they would have seen you two shine brighter than ever, the light not leaving, as long as you were together.

The next morning you woke up, a white comforter draped over you, and you almost had a heart attack when hyunjin was nowhere near. But then you saw him, walking in with a big grin, and one of the matching ugly christmas sweaters you had bought together sometime on.You started laughing, still half asleep and in a groggy voice. „You look…. Interesting.“ hyunjin laughed and threw something at you. It was your christmas sweater. You sighed, and you did your best to put a serious face on. His smile dropped. „Oh no- no- don‘t say you changed your mind.“ You broke out in a laugh and jumped up, putting the sweater over your pajama shirt. „God you are going to make me die even sooner with the heart attacks you give me.“ Hyunjin dramatically exhaled, gripping his chest. You just rolled your eyes at that. You were glad he was his usual dramatic self, the weight in the room that you both somehow created the past weeks, seemingly gone, replaced by a lighthearted joyful mood.

So you dressed the rest of yourself, grabbed your things and left the apartment with hyunjin. He had insisted to eat waffles at his favorite coz cafe around the corner, and not have one of your healthy breakfasts at home. You had given in, so now you were walking there, both wrapped up in coats, and fuzzy scarfs. It was cold outside, and the wind blew. There were faint smells of gingerbread and cinnamon in the air, telling you it was really getting christmas now. Well christmas was already tomorrow so how could it be different? You went into the cafe and hyunjin picked a spot at the window. On the pastell green walls there were everywhere pretty pictures, and the chairs were all different, each one looking vintage and really comfy. You ordered two waffles and two hot chocolates. As you sat there in the cozy fluffy chair, you looked at him. He looked the same as yesterday, and the days before but something was different. It wasn‘t the pink shade on his nose from the cold, or neither the Christmas sweater. No, it was that his eyes sparkled. They sparkled like they didn‘t in a long time. Maybe he was right? Maybe this was what he needed, not your experimental healthy food (that didn’t even taste good, eugh) and constant sitting around at home. Hyunjin shook you out of your thoughts. „Why are you staring?“

You shook your head with a little smile. „You‘re pretty today.“

He just laughed, assuming you were joking because of the sweater.

Your waffles and hot chocolate were served and hyunjin got excited like a kid, and immediately started munching them. You giggled, and secretly took a picture with your phone. Then you started eating too. The waffles tasted like christmas and happiness. You had never eaten such good waffles before. Maybe it was also just the feeling to sit here and eat them with hyunjin, entirely lighthearted and happy for the first time in weeks. As you were highly concentrated on your food, hyunjin suddenly spoke up. „I love you, you know that? And i always will, even when you can‘t see me anymore. But don‘t worry, i‘ll look at you getting older, achieving your dreams, and doing everything you want to, because i know you’ll do so well, even without me. And i‘ll protect you, from wherever i will be going. You‘ll always be my muse y/n.“ He sounded sincere, not sarcastic like when he was being dramatic, though he kept on eating his waffles, like he didn‘t just say something that almost made you cry and want to hold him for the rest of your life. You looked at him, tears building up a bit behind your eyes. „Hyunnie… I love you too, and always will. I don‘t know if i ever can fully move on though,… because i will always think of you when i look at the moon shining bright on the dark night sky, or when i look at the town around christmastime, everything tinted in a soft glow and everything smelling like gingerbread.“ You said, but you weren‘t as desperate and almost seeming like you would break down at any moment, like it was just a few days ago when he started talking about his death. No, you were calm, and a little, sad smile played on your lips. He was done with his waffles now, and leaned over the table to cup your cheek in his warm hand. „It‘s okay y/nnie. Grieving i a natural and healthy part of when someone you love is dying. And it‘s okay to cry, scream or vent to someone. But please don‘t do all that alone hm? I talked to the boys a few days ago, and they have all grown so close to you too over the years, they will support you, and you can grieve together. Know that you are not alone y/n, never. And i‘ll always be somewhere in there.“ He pointed at where your heart was. „And you are the strongest, bravest woman i know, so i know that you will be able to somewhat move on someday. Oh but i have one little request. Please never forget me, no matter what you choose to do in the future. I like the idea of you being reminded of me when looking at the moon or while the christmas season. I hope you are being reminded of me in a good way though, and not like a haunting nightmare way.“ He chuckled at the last part a bit. And you smiled too.

„I would never forget you love, and don’t worry about it, you‘ll always be my dream, never my nightmare.“

„Oh but one more thing. Don’t be afraid of me dying, while i’m still here. Everything is gonna be okay.“ He smiled. You both looked into each other‘s eyes for a moment there, and it felt like nothing else was existing right now. No other people, no sadness, and no cancer. Just hyunjin‘s mesmerizing dark eyes looking into yours.

You two were walking out the cafe, hand in hand, now going to the little christmas market hyunjin adored since you took him there for the first time. Since then he didn‘t spend a singly christmas season without going there.

Your breaths were coming out in little white clouds, and you put your head on hyunjin‘s shoulder. He took his hand out of yours,and instead lovingly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and pressing a kiss to your head. You loved when he did that. If only you could stop time now, and walk in the joyful town forever with your boyfriend.

But soon you heard happy children‘s laughter, and smelled cinammon. No doubt that there was the christmas market. Hyunjin started smiling like crazy. He loved the fact that he got to see this for the last time with you. No, he wouldn’t be sad that it was the last time today, and regret things. No, he would just be so, so glad to spend this day here, forgetting the cancer that usually weighed him down, for a while. It seemed like a gift that he got this day, being with his favorite person in probably his favorite place.

Soon enough he saw a stand, with cute handmade christmas decorations. He immediately went over there, and made a adorable noise.

„Looooook y/n, it‘s a ferret with a scarf, and it looks like my scarf! We need to adopt him and hang him on our tree. I feel our bond, so no arguing on this one.“ He said dead serious. You laughed, looking at the ferret. You almost forgot how excited hyunjin always got at the christmas market, and how you had to convince him to not buy literally everything he saw. But you nodded on this one, the little deco really looking a bit like hyunjin right now, with his cute red nose and the adorable smile on his face. He went to the man who was selling it, and even gave him more money than the ferret costed. The guy happily wished him merry christmas and waved. Hyunjin just loved to make people happy, and why not do that especially now? He took your hand in his again, walking by the other stands, the shimmer of the fairylights hanging on all the stands mirroring the one in his eyes. As you were slowly walking, you, literally trying to convince hyunjin to not buy a gigantic wolf statue from the eighteenth century for chan(He was so silly, he had to gift everyone the most random things for christmas with the simple explanation: I saw that and thought of you), you suddenly felt something cold on your face. Hyunjin seemed to feel it too, because he looked up and immediately his whole face lit up even more if that was possible. „Omg Y/n it‘s snowing! This is just a perfect day, even the weather with it‘s beautiful snow is on our side.“ He talked, not really paying attention to what he was saying, just mesmerized by the white crystals.

Sometimes you took a bit time, just to admire the way he got excited over little things, in a way you would usually see it only with kids. Those moments, when joy was literally radiating from him you felt so much love and admiration for him that you could combust. You just wanted to snap a hundred pictures with that adorable smile and the shine in his eyes, and keep them forever in your heart. You brushed his hair out of his face, and your hand lingered on his cheek for a bit longer. „You‘re right hyun, this is the perfect day.“ You whispered. He just continued smiling, then lowered down to kiss you. You didn‘t feel the cold snow on your skin anymore, only your boyfriends soft lips, that tasted like cinammon and warmness, pressed to yours. As you pulled away, your foreheads were resting against each other, and you felt his warm breath on your face. „Let‘s go home now, then we can bake gingerbread and show mini Jinnie his new home.“ you giggled at his words, and nodded, your eyes not leaving his.

You walked through your apartment door, both of you giggling like lovesick fools. You took your shoes and coat off, but suddenly your feet got sweeped off the floor, and you were being carried by hyunjin. „Yah, stop it!! The doctor said no heavy lifting!“ You slapped his arm in an attempt to make him let you down but you couldn‘t even hold in your own laugh. He shook his head and dramatically said: „If not now, then when should i carry you bridal style, my lady?“ You playfully slapped his arm again and threw your head back in laughter. He just fondly smiled, lowering his head down to kiss you on the cheek, and then he carried you into the kitchen. The other guys seemed to also have decorated the kitchen because beautiful fairy lights were hung over the stoves, and some more decoration, including a mistletoe, was placed perfect. When hyunjin stopped under the mistletoe you started shaking your head. „No jinnie don‘t. Please, that‘s so cheesy,don‘t do it.“ You whined, knowing exactly he would in fact do it.He grinned and asked „May i?“ He didn‘t wait for an answer, he just softly laid his lips on yours, the kiss so tender like always. Both of you closed your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. After a while you slowly pulled away, and he murmured a soft „love you my muse“. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, smiling. „Love you too hyunnie“ your words were muffled against his sweater, but he didn‘t mind. He wouldn‘t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

You went into the kitchen, and hyunjin let you down. You started preparing everything for gingerbread, and soon christmas songs were filling the air. With the fairy lights on, everything was tinted in a soft, cozy glow.

As you were just done with the dough and had placed it to rest somewhere ‘all i want for christmas‘ started playing. „Oh my favorite christmas song.“ He chimed, preparing a spoon as a microphone. You looked at him in shock. „Sorry what?? Don‘t tell me we are together for literally six years, and i had no idea that your favorite christmas song is all i want for christmas. How can you have these muscles, and act all flirty but suddenly be like a lovesick teeny girl?“

A endearing pout played on his lips. „It‘s a classical, don‘t judge me!“ You sighed but started giggling. As the refrain of the song came, hyunjin threw his hair back (Nuh uh seriously, who was this diva?) and he began to loudly sing into the spoon. You laughed, but couldn‘t resist him. You grabbed a spoon toom, and put it up to your mouth, singing along with him. He then wrapped his one arm around your waist, and with the other one he held his ‘microphone‘ , singing „All i want for christmasss is youuuuu“ And then pointing at you. You started dancing around together too. In a little clumsy pirouette move, where you would never think this man was a professional dancer, Hyunjin accidentally threw a bag of flour off the stove. In only a few seconds you both and the whole floor were coated in a thick layer of flour. For a moment you were both flabbergasted, but soon you bursted out laughing, and hyunjin just kept singing like it was nothing. This whole moment felt so heartwarming and silly, you just knew this was one of those moments you would still think of in twenty years. Hyunjin ended his little concert with one more time singing the refrain line and then he picked you up and swirled you around, the flour flying around in the air. You squealed, not expecting it, wich only made him chuckle. As he let you down again, he pulled you close again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, not caring that now flour was on his lips.„I love you so much.“

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him, so now you were both wrapped up tightly in each others embrace, not caring about the fact that you were just distributing the flour even more.

„You said that so often today.“

„Yes because i never ever want you to forget it, alright love?“ he held you jut a bit tighter, and you felt his nose nuzzling against your neck.

„alright.“

„Good. Let‘s just stay like this for a little while longer? You look cute in flour.“

„As long as you want to.“ you smiled softly and laid your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

After a while the flour got a bit itchy though, you both had to admit. So you went into your room, getting some clothes for you and hyunjin, while he went into the bathroom to run a bath. You took your matching christmas pajamas, the fluffy one with gingerbread men on it. As you came into the bathroom, hyunjin was turning on the water, putting some of your favorite cinammon-bath salt in it. He had also lit some candles, and turned off the big light, so the whole bathroom was tinted in golden light. You both undressed, and you stepped into the tub first, sitting down at the end of it. Hyunjin waited and raised a brow. „Don‘t you want me to sit behind you like usual? You always like when i massage your scalp, or your tense shoulders“ You gently smiled up to him. „Today i‘m gonna do all that for you. It was so wonderful to just forget everything today, and with the christmas market and the snow, everything was just perfect. But you‘re still my sick baby. So sit down, today it‘s me who is gonna massage your scalp.“ Hyunjin‘s eyes filled with tears, and a fond smile crept up to his lips. He got into the bathtub too, sitting down between your legs, like you usually did with him. You soon gently started to run your fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes, cherishing the feeling. After a while you felt his muscles completely relax, and his breathing get slow and steady, almost like his body was melting into yours. You held him tight, one hand still in his hair, and from time to time you kissed his shoulder, like he always did to you.

After a while when you almost thought he had fallen asleep he murmured: „The water‘s getting cold.“

You hummed. „Let‘s get out, and get you to sleep jinnie.“

„But the gingerbread.“ He mumbled, but his eyes were already closed. You smiled and he whined as you got up and out of the tub. „We can still make the little gingerbread men, and ferrets and whatever you want, tomorrow.“ You took a fluffy towel, and wrapped it around yourself. Then you got another one, and tried dragging hyunjin out of the water.

„But then it‘s already christmas day. That‘s against the rules my lady.“ You chuckled at his sleepy confused mumbling. „We are making our own rules.“ You took the towel and slowy dried him off. Then you softly pushed him down to sit on the bathtub edge and put him on his pajamas. „You are taking care of me so well love… Never gonna stop loving you, i‘ll protect my muse at all costs, even when i‘m not physically with you anymore.“ He mumbled, so incoherent and sleep drunken you almost didn‘t understand it. „I know jinnie, i know. Now let‘s get you to bed, hm?“ He whined, and after you quickly put on your own pajamas too, you helped him get up and you both went to bed. As he laid down, you pulled the comforter up to his chin, lovingly stroking his hair. Then you got into bed too, closing your eyes. When you were already at the edge of sleep you suddenly heard hyunjin speak up again. „Y/n?“

„Hmm?“ „Please say it back“

„What are you talking bout.“

„That you love me. I‘m so tired already, but somehow i feel like i won‘t fall asleep if you don‘t say it.“

If you would have thought about that, maybe you could have somewhere already thought that it was coming. Hyunjin‘s pure soul was bracing itself for something, as if he knew.

„I love you. Forever and ever.“

And then you both drifted off.

When you woke up, you didn‘t immediately open your eyes. But you knew. You felt it. You could never describe this feeling, or how you would know, but you had no doubt your hyunjin was somewhere else now. Somewhere far away. And when you finally did open your eyes you took a second to breathe in. You slowly sat up and braced yourself. Then you looked to your side. There he was, looking like he was sleeping peacefully. You didn‘t know if you were imagining that or if it was real but it seemed like even a small smile was laying on his lips. You were oddly calm, as you stood up, and walked around to hyunjin‘s side.

You crouched down next to the bed, and with a slight tremble you took his hand in yours. It was still a bit warm. You pressed a kiss to it, as a silent tear rolled down your cheek. „Hey hyunnie. I don‘t know if you can hear me, but i just want to tell you that i love you okay? Don‘t forget that. And i hope you weren‘t in pain when it happened. Just know that you can peacefully go wherever you are supposed to go now. It‘s okay for me. I will continue living, also if the pain of your absence will daily remind me of the fact that you aren‘t with me anymore. But that‘s okay. I thought that this pain is the worst, but it makes me remember you, and that‘s what i want to do for the rest of my life, so actually i will be okay with it. That day yesterday was really a perfect day, as you said. I guess somehow our souls knew that soon they would have to say goodbye to each other. It helped me realize that when you die i won‘t have to act all strong, and feel like suffocating when i‘m alone. Oh by the way, i‘ll call the guys soon, and tell them. Then i‘ll bake our gingerbreadmen okay? And i‘ll be taking good care of mini jinnie, so you don‘t have to worry about him and his little scarf.“ You smiled through the tears running down your cheeks, that were silently landing on the bed next to hyunjin.

„So hyunnie, i bet you are wating for me to finish my dramatic boring speech so you can finally go in peace, hm? I wish you merry christmas my one and only love.“ You kissed his hand tenderly for the last time, a single little tear dripping down onto it.

Taglist: @0omillo0 @lina-linny @darqlys

@onementally-unstabel-kid @idek6758 @sadie-tucker @kozumesphone

@urlocalmultigroupfan @thoughtfularbiternightmare @lezleeferguson-120

@stayblrofficial hello this is my submission for the stayblrholiday event! For some reason I can’t send y’all the link but yeah I hope tagging is okay too!<3

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iraot · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Zayne x f!reader x Caleb x Sylus ( POLY SHIP ) Word Count: 43,971 Warnings: MxM intimacy, Poly intimacy, tandem blowjobs, dom/Sub dynamics, rugby sylus and caleb, caleb and sylus preestablished, book club zayne x reader, Summary: A chance meeting and four souls find forever after a frat party incident. A/N: I finished this in the span of like a month or so? I can't remember but I finally finished editing it till I was happy. I wrote this for @vesearlee >:3 my pookie. AO3

The second-floor reading room of the campus library smelled like old books and cheap coffee, the kind that promised more alertness than it ever delivered. The overhead lights cast a dim, yellow glow across the long wooden table where the book club had gathered, their copies of The Metamorphosis stacked haphazardly between them. Zayne sat at the far end, half-listening, half-bored, his thumb idly skimming the edge of his paperback while some freshman rambled on about how Gregor Samsa’s transformation was an obvious metaphor for capitalism.

"If you think about it," the kid was saying, pushing up his glasses with the kind of self-importance only a first-year could manage, "Gregor turning into a bug is really just a symbol of how capitalism dehumanizes the worker. Once he's no longer useful, he's discarded. Classic Marxist critique."

Zayne exhaled sharply, barely suppressing an eye-roll. He snapped his book shut with one hand, the movement sharp enough to draw a few glances. "Yeah," he said dryly, leaning back in his chair, "I'm sure Kafka would've been blown away by that analysis."

A quiet chuckle—soft, amused, the kind that wasn’t meant to be noticed but was anyway.

Zayne’s gaze flicked across the table.

She was watching him.

She sat with her chin propped on her hand, elbow resting against the wood, her dark eyes holding a glint of curiosity beneath the overhead light. He recognized her from last week—a transfer student, new to the university. She’d been quiet then, more observer than participant, her gaze moving across the room like she was taking mental notes on everyone. But now, she was looking at him, the corner of her mouth tugging upward like she was holding back a comment.

"You don't agree?" she asked, her voice even but edged with something playful, like she already knew he didn’t.

Zayne tilted his head slightly, intrigued. Most people either nodded along with whatever half-baked interpretation got thrown around or avoided speaking altogether, too self-conscious to challenge the group’s consensus. But she was asking him directly, not in a combative way, but like she actually wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I agree that it's a metaphor," Zayne said, stretching his legs out beneath the table, "but the ‘capitalism bad’ take is kind of the literary equivalent of a microwave meal. Easy, convenient, zero effort."

Her smirk deepened. She tapped a fingernail against the book's spine. "So what's your version? If not capitalism, what do you think the bug means?"

He studied her for a moment, considering. There was something sharp in the way she asked, like she was testing him, checking if he had something worthwhile to say or if he was just being contrary for the sake of it.

Zayne shrugged. "I think it's about isolation. The second he stops being useful, his family stops seeing him as human. It’s not money, it’s convenience. He could’ve turned into a floor lamp and they probably would’ve shoved him in storage just the same."

That won a real laugh from her—short, genuine, the kind that cut through the usual low hum of conversation in the room.

"A lamp?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Zayne said, leaning forward slightly. "Imagine his sister walking in like, ‘Sorry, Gregor, but you’re a lamp now, and Mom says we need the outlet for the vacuum.’"

She grinned, and for a brief moment, the entire room seemed to shrink, the background noise fading under the weight of that expression. It wasn’t just amusement—it was recognition. Like she understood the way his brain worked, the way humor curled around his observations, and she approved.

"That’s bleak," she said.

"That’s Kafka," he countered smoothly.

READ THE REST ON AO3!

#sylus x caleb #caleb x zayne #sylus x reader #caleb x reader #zayne x reader #snowcrow #crowapple

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liberalk1tsch · 1 month ago

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What do you think Haymitch thought about Gale and his behaviour towards Katniss (and Peeta)?How much did he know about this complicated relationship? I always considered Haymitch to be a rather good judge of the character -which his book imo confirms, so I feel that he would have Gale figured out pretty quickly but at the same time they come from similar backgrounds so that might have clouded his view somehow. Idk, what are your thoughts on that?

this is going to be one of my more unpopular opinions i reckon, but i’m ok with that.

once again — if you can't accept criticism of gale, dni

i’m gonna say it — i don’t think haymitch likes gale whatsoever.

i think he respects him for helping asterid and prim in katniss’ absence during the games and for helping to save the people of d12 from the firebombs, but that’s where he draws the line.

haymitch sees gale's relationship with katniss from a distance — not as her parent (not at first) viewing childhood friends or another love interest, but as someone on the outside looking in. he’s not caught in the emotional tangle; he sees a young man pursuing his sweetheart who’s barely had time to breathe, let alone process everything she’s been through. and while the age gap isn’t massive, haymitch is a district 12 native — he knows that 18 or 20 in the seam isn’t adolescence. it’s adulthood. and that makes his emotional pursuit of katniss feel . . . off.

nobody likes to hear this, but gale is a man. legally. physically. socially. hormonally. emotionally too for the most part, even if that aspect is a bit stunted. he's graduated from school. he works full time in the mines. supports his family. probably pays taxes. is legally able to get married with someone his own age.

it's different from an 18-20 y/o in our society where they might still be finishing up high school, going off to uni, not really being independent adults yet. there's no in-between steps like that in d12 for people between school age and adulthood/career. the responsibilities and expectations are different. by d12 standards, gale's a grown man.

and he uses his free time to hang out with a 17 y/o girl.

if it were just friendship, that would be one thing. but gale clearly wants something more, and he keeps pressing for it, even when katniss is drowning in trauma and fear. haymitch knows what trauma looks like. he lives it everyday. and he also knows what it means to love someone in a way that’s not about possession or control — love that’s protective, patient, and painful.

he sees that in peeta. not just the love, but the sacrifice and restraint. and he recognises it because it mirrors his own. haymitch is the Original Loverboy, and while he can acknowledge that gale does care about katniss, it’s a different kind of care — one that doesn’t always align with her best interest.

what makes it even more layered is that haymitch and gale have near-identical backgrounds. they both grew up in the seam, oldest siblings of fatherless families, raised by mothers who worked as washerwomen. they both broke the law to feed their families. they both watched their homes go up in flames.

haymitch understands gale. he knows what that situation does to a person. he sees the ruthlessness in gale during the rebellion — the tactical coldness, the willingness to sacrifice lives — and while he doesn’t condemn him for it, he knows that it’s not what katniss needs.

so yeah. haymitch respects gale’s tenacity. he understands his grief. but he doesn’t like the way he treats katniss. and he definitely doesn’t trust it.

because katniss finally has people who look out for her, and haymitch is going to make damn sure they’re the kind who deserve her.

#thanks for the ask!#i feel very strongly ab this #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #gale hawthorne #haymitch abernathy #sunrise on the reaping #everlark

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spotsupstuff · 2 months ago

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What do you think about iterators canonically being Rat sized now? Lil guys.

I mean technically... a.) it's not really The Iterators, it's just their puppets. (we all know that, though, yeah yeah. nerd emoji and all that. i like nerding.) b.) we have canonical Rain World patented rats now, too, and they are smaller than a slugcat (edible too), so rats are smaller than puppets still. c.) it isn't really a new information, either, it's just more clearer and certain (well the height scaling doesn't seem very consistent to me according to the backgrounds. e.g. the fountain in Outer Rim is strangely small, so are the stairs at the murals in Ancient Urban, compared with the table and shelf in the workshop, the pottery and the bed). Outside of the game it has been said before that slugcats are around 3 feet and arguments existed before that these kind of things-

-are ladders and for them to be proportionable to the Ancients, the Ancients would have to be quite a bit bigger than the Iterator puppets. (Alongside the fact that Echoes are probably exactly how big them pals were when they were alive.)

I was aware of that for a few years now. I didn't draw it as such purely 'cuz I just didn't wanna ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ And about all my drawing stuff has been in an AU that was originally refered to as ,,the Serotonin Take", so..

But genuine thoughts on small puppets: I think it's both funny and makes a lot of sense. I'm pretty sure canonically the only reason for the existence of the puppets is so the Iterators can look good and ,,human" to their citizens through a camera and nobody actually ever visited the puppet chambers except maybe technicians once in a hundred years or something. Essentially biorobo mascots.

They don't need to be big or overly complicated outside of emotative capability (eyes + antennas, shoulders, maybe hands and head movement) to serve their purpose.

My only issue with them is that I'm a transformers fan and I like big robots.

Genuine thought going thru my head while in Ancient Urban 'cuz I was actively thinking about slugcats = puppet sizes:

#spot says stuff #rw #rw watcher spoilers #i'm willing to bet 5€ those rats in Ancient Urban are scavenger ancestors. and the pigeon moths are ancestors to those big angel moths.#...what if the nudibranchs are those slugcat ancestors. the pipe cleaners... did i eat grandma...

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bubble-tea-blossom · 1 month ago

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The Soldier and the Smuggler

10. The Eye

Pairing: f!reader x Joel Miller. wc: 6.3 k

Warnings: canon level violence, description of ptsd symptoms, this story is 18+ only

Previous chapter

(my pic)

“I don’t like the look of that,” you mumble, peering at the stitches down Joel's back, “how’s it feel?” The wound's turned color, and the skin on either side is too warm.

“Sore.”

You inhale slowly, rolling your eyes. You pity whatever doctor Joel went to before the Outbreak.

“Well, lady luck must have a thing for you,” you say, rummaging through his bag for the black case. You pluck the glass needle from its case and the vial that says doxycycline, examining the other bottles. Half seem to be more antibiotics while the other are a mix of epinephrine, and names that are gibberish to you. “No insulin, huh?” You mumble. You know the answer, you’re hoping maybe you missed something.

Joel shakes his head.

You stab the needle through the small entry point, drawing an inch worth. You hold it for Joel to see, “This look good?”

He shrugs, “You think its necessary? That’s worth a lot.”

You resist rolling your eyes again, “Would you rather I wait til you get septic and the drug isn’t enough and all I can do is say ‘I told you so’ while your heart stops?”

Joel’s eyes widen, “Alright, jeez.”

You have easy access to his the cap of his shoulder, pushing the short sleeve of his t-shirt out of the way. You aren’t exactly how deep you’re supposed to insert the needle so you figure better too deep than too shallow and plunge it as far as it will go. Joel’s face blanches and his teeth creak with how hard he’s clenches his jaw. Maybe that was too deep. You adjust and pull it out halfway to plunge the medicine into his muscle.

“Sorry,” you grimace.

Joel blinks rapidly, speaking with a strained voice “Jesus girl, I think you tickled my bone.”

You withdraw the needle, a pinprick of blood following in its wake. “Why didn’t you do it yourself then?” You deflect the guilt. The thought of a needle scraping your bone sends shivers through you.

“You came at me with a needle and that look in your eye, I knew it best to just lie still.” Joel says. Despite his slight monotone, you catch the amused undertone. He’s teasing you. Probably to make you feel less bad.

The shy grin falls from your face when you catch yourself. You need to stop treating the man like a friend. He certainly doesn’t feel that way.

“I’m gonna go disinfect this,” you say and escape to the roof.

It takes you longer than you’ll admit to light up the tinder pile Joel set up last night. Lighting burning pyres with gas and a torch is a different game than birthing a flame from a spark and kindling on a windy roof.

You keep the fire low, wary of smoke. And once the needle is cauterized, you kick out the flames.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Its been about a week since you settled in the sky rise office building. You spend your days sleeping, interrupted by a daily check on Joel's wound. It’s healing shocking fast, and without further signs of infection. You take full credit for that and tell him every time you check it.

You do so to irritate him, grow the distance between you two despite the small space you’ve been squished into. But he takes it in good nature, daring to give you a soft smile when you make a particularly amusing jab. You lean harder into your anger for support.

You don’t seem to be irritating him, but he is irritating the fuck out of you. He’s restless. Rotating between pacing, obsessively cleaning his guns and gazing out the window like a widow yearning for her husband.

His restlessness is driving you crazy. Mainly because you feel at fault. He's currently cleaning his revolver for the one-hundredth time. ‘Why are you still here?’ You want to shout.

Instead you ignore him and settle on the couch, closing your eyes. The click of metal sings in the background as you slip into an anxious sleep. Not even two hours later, you wake up, a scream in your throat that never took flight. The nightmare is seared into your eyelids as you try to blink it away, the images chasing you into consciousness.

Men chasing you, pinning you to the ground, ripping you apart. You hands pushed against skin that felt like stone, your strength sapped from your body. Your attempts to fight back were as useful as flies bouncing off a brick wall.

Now awake from the nightmare, you find yourself not entirely free. You look around, and realize you’re still trapped in a room with an opponent who has every advantage on you. Joel has already proved that. You’re not thinking anymore. The handle of your knife is clench so tightly in your fist it digs grooves into your skin. With Joel’s back to you, you slip out of the room as silent as you can and then make a break for it. But run where? The roof? Its too open and he’ll look there first.

You go to the far corner of the floor and find an office you haven’t explored yet. With a thundering heart, you barricade the door with the heavy oak chair, before crawling under the desk. Muscles clenched in a tight ball, you beg the images nipping at your eyelids to go away.

It takes a long hour until your brain comes back online. It knocks timidly, suggesting that the smuggler has been alone with you for over a week, and here you are, unharmed, for the most part.

A deep, shuddering sigh escapes your chest as you rise slowly from your hiding spot. Your back and every joint aches as penance for your panic. The last thing you want to do is return to the smuggler. You poke through the cabinets in the dusty office, looking for anything good.

Eventually you to the roof. The sun is blessedly covered by clouds, in the distance they roil dark grey and black with a suppressed anger that mirrors your own.

With a groan you slide your back against the raised edge and watch the clouds darken, chugging from the bottle of rum you found.

A throaty caw from overhead makes you jump and turn to regard the raven perched on the edge. He’s silent as he tilts his head this way and that, regarding you up and down with an unsettling intelligence in his black eye. He makes you jump again when he caws twice.

You give him your best imitation caw, which gets a head turn, now watching you with his other eye. You two watch each other until the first rumble of thunder, which he flies away with one last caw. Perhaps telling you to get off the roof.

The rolls of thunder send vibrations through your stomach. When the first flash of lightning lights the sky, followed by a clap two heartbeats later, you know it’s time to get off the roof of the tallest building in the city.

Something keeps you rooted. Despair. Defiance. You aren’t sure. You don’t really care.

When the rain breaks, it starts slow at first, then all at once it turns torrential. Your bruised face tips to the sky, pelted with drops coming down so fast they feel like pebbles. The thunder rumbles inside your chest, like thousands of lost voices, calling to you.

You find peace in the chaos. Wouldn’t everything be so much easier if you got hit by lightning? What a way to go. Definitely not something you ever considered in all your years.

You take another chug of the rum and laugh.

The rain hides the sound of the door slamming open. It hides his footsteps until he’s right behind you.

“What the hell are you doing?” The smuggler demands, stepping into view. His arm is raised protectively, shielding his face from the pelting rain.

You close your eyes, and remain silent. Trying to summon the peace he chased away.

He says your name with urgency.

“Go away, Miller,” you echo the first time you heard his name, all those years ago. Spat out in derision

"Where'd you find that?" He demands, indicating the rum.

"Found it in one of the offices," you take another swig.

The bottle held loosely between your fingertips is easily snatched. This gets your eyes open.

“This ain’t gonna fix your head,” he waves the bottle. When you refuse to give him any kind of response, he breaths out of his nose like an angry bull . Then he flings the bottle over the edge.

“Hey!” You stumble upright, peering over the side in dismay at the loss of your only friend.

The sight to the ground is dizzying, the rain streaking down makes it hypnotizing. You lean further against the ledge, the bricks dining into your stomach, your head weighing heavier and heavier. You can't even see the broken bottle. You can imagine it shattered into unrecognizable pieces. Just like you, if you were to fall. What would you look like, you wonder, if you slipped on the wet bricks and took your last tumble?

A hand claps on your shoulder, wrenching you back from the edge with an anxious call of your name. The hard touch floods your system with instinctual panic, your brain too drunk to summon logic.

You dance out of his reach and then you slap him. Hard. Raindrops fly in an arch from the contact. You know by the stinging of your palm that his cheek feels it too, but he just stands there, blinking away the pain, looking unimpressed,

"You done?" He asks, tone cold.

That, was the wrong thing to say.

You don't really know how it happened, mostly surprise on Joel's end. You grabbed flesh and twisted, gaining control over his momentum and with a spit out "You motherfucker," slam his back against the ledge. You shake the rain from your face, staring into the very surprised eyes of the smuggler pinned against the wall, your hands with fistfuls of his shirt keeping him there.

"I begged you," you snarl, reduced to an animal, ”I begged you to let me go" you press him further back, not paying attention to how he's leaning over the edge at this point. He certainly is, vertigo clutching at him, his arms have grabbed yours, fingers digging in to steady himself so he doesn't slip.

"I begged you, and you ignored me." You pronounce ‘ignored’ like it is the most perverse sin a man could commit.

You stand there clutching each other, the wind and rain a deafening orchestra. Strikes of lightning illuminate your faces as you stand there pressed against each other, nearly nose to nose.You watch the surprise bleed from his face as he processes your words, replaced by something else.

A handful of heartbeats pass, an eternity passing between each rhythmic thump of your heart. He keeps entirely still, aware that any slip on the wet bricks might send him or you both over. You find you’re okay with that.

There’s a whisper of your name, almost washed away with the rain, "You gonna kill me?"

You blink rapidly, and a lightning strike hits close enough you feel the building groan.

"I wouldn't blame you," his voice is calm despite being breathless. He's telling the truth.

The fight drains from you. You shake your head and force your stiff fingers to loosen their grip on him, stepping back.

You don't want to kill him. You don't want to kill anyone. You've spent your life after the Outbreak going out of your way to avoid killing anyone. And each time the world forces your hand to end a life, infected or not, you lose a piece of your old self. A harder, brittle piece replaces the softer part of you. If you keep surviving, day after day, year after year, losing yourself bit by bit, replaced by a new version, molded by fear and distrust, will you even be you anymore?

You don't enjoy thinking of your soul as Theseus's ship. You look at the smuggler, stubbornly standing and waiting for you instead of fleeing like a sane man. Who better understands this, than the man standing before you. Is he the same man he was before the Outbreak?

No. The scars on his face, the scars you've seen on his body, the look in his eyes, give you your answer.

"You gonna come inside?" He asks.

The cold rain has left you freezing, your clothes and hair are soaked to your skin. And you have no intention of leaving.

You slide your back down the brick ledge, and tip your face to the sky. You will give Mother Nature her chance to judge you; to spare you or strike you down. You'd rather her than an Infected, or worse, a man. At the very least, the rain might wash away your failures.

Your eyes are closed, but you never feel Joel's presence leave you. You never hear the stairwell door. You convince yourself you are indifferent.

Eventually the rain wanes, and the wind dies. The next time you open your eyes, there is only the sound of water dripping from high surfaces. Your neck aches as you raise your head, sore from sleeping on the ground. The dawn is just beginning to break, a pale yellow yolk peeking over even paler blue skies.

You look down and see a jacket covering your torso, hugging your body warmth against you. It's Joel's. Made from worn, brown, waterproofed leather. You've always been a sucker for how leather smells. Pride keeps you from breathing it in.

Instead you look around the roof, and spot the smuggler sitting a few dozen feet away. Back to the wall, arms folded, chip dropped to his chest, eyes closed.

You shed his jacket, ball it up, and throw it at him. The impact wakes him up.

"I don't need your fucking jacket."

Joel shakes off the water drops beaded on the surface, "You were shivering."

That sentence makes you sad. You’re aching for any hint of care, but your stubbornness refuses to accept any that comes from the smuggler. If you did, if you softened to him, you would be betraying a part of yourself. Some principal you’re clinging to, to keep your sanity.

“I’m not your damn date,” you lash out, “and you and I both know you aren’t a gentleman.” The feeling of him holding a gun to your head and tying your hands together hangs over your shoulder as you stare at him.

Joel remains silent but his face speaks for him.

Rubbing your palms over the rough, wet bricks to ground yourself, you look over the damp city. Joel joins you a good couple feet away, only close enough to talk easily.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” you admit, “if I go back to the QZ I’m dead.”

“So don’t go back.”

You shake your head slowly, knowing the words will be the death of you, “I can’t leave May.” That’s the only thing you know for certain, the only fact that remains stable in your heart.

Joel clears his throat awkwardly.

“I never told them my name,” you rebut his unspoken concern, “there’s a chance they don’t know about her. Besides, she’s a smart lady.” You do your best to convince Joel and yourself.

“What do they even want with you?”

“They don’t. I’m just a mistake,” you pick obsessively at a hangnail on your thumb, “I remember Gunner was pissed, he wanted a Sergeant. It started with Co-“

You think it through, closing your eyes to slowly replay the events back in the warehouse. Lieutenant General Gunner leaning over you, his broken front tooth snagging on his lip when he snarled at you. The distaste in his eyes sends shivers down your spine even now. It wasn’t hate. To hate someone you have to respect them at least somewhat. He looked at you like you were the cockroach crawling over his kitchen table. Nothing more than a disgusting bug to be squashed and never thought of again.

You hear Joel retreat behind you, and from the sounds of it, washing using the overflowing rain barrel. After replaying your memories, the name comes back, “Does she look like Sergeant Cohen to you?” Gunner had yelled.

“Who the hell is Sergeant Cohen?” Joel asks, voice muffled by his hands rubbing down his wet face.

You can picture a blurry image of her. You only know her because she’s the daughter of someone important and everyone knows who's she is. Who she’s the kid of, you can’t remember, and you aren’t sure if its because you never bothered to file that away or if it was beaten out of your head when the soldier rattled your brain. But you can picture her face.

With a sinking gut, you put two puzzle pieces together, “I…look a little like her. If you squint real hard.”

You face Joel who looks like he dunked his whole head in the water. He shakes his head, hair sending water drops flying, hitting you. The unpleasantness of being sprayed unexpectedly distracts you for a second before he speaks.

“Or if your face is beaten to a pulp,” he says matter of factly, wiping the water from his hair, but his eyes still look guilty taking in your black eye that’s turned blue. “When I found you, the soldier laying it on you was holding a camera.”

Your face drops, “You didn’t think to mention that earlier?”

Joel shrugs, “What difference did it make? I’m telling you now.”

Unfortunately you agree with him. “Guess it doesn’t make a difference to you,” you say coldly, “you still got paid.”

Joel just stares at you, chewing on the left side of his cheek. You aren’t sure if he’s waiting for you to duck your head or look away, but you do the opposite, waiting for him to break the silence. He breaths in like he’s going to say something but then just shakes his head.

He leaves the roof.

Being alone brings some peace, your muscle unwinding a bit. You take the time to wash yourself as best you can, ignoring that without his presence you also feel hollow. Exposed.

Afterwards, you feel better, even if its just a little bit. Squeezing the water from your hair, you look out over the city, planning the route back to Boston. With a flap of wings, the raven from yesterday joins you.

“Hello again.”

You both regard each other with a tilt of your heads. One of his black eye roves up and down before the raven flaps its wings and settles on the lip of the barrel. You leave it to its drink and head back down to the office.

You find Joel packing the last of his stuff, shoving his bedroll down into his backpack. You aren’t sure if this is where you part ways. You keep silent, sheathing your pistol behind your back, watching Joel fold the maps and tuck them away. You realize how little you have, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing and the stolen pistol.

“I’ve hid here long enough,” you say. Joel stops only to nod before resuming his packing. Is this where I say goodbye or something?

You don’t have the mental whereabouts to think of something else to say, you just leave. The smuggler follows you down the fire escape wordlessly. The brisk morning air, still heavy with water feels refreshing on the bruises covering your face. When you stand on the earth for the first time in almost a week, you feel a bit of strength return.

The motherly reunion is immediately squandered by a croaking click click click from the distance. You instinctually crouch, pressing flat against the side of the building. Joel drops to the ground behind you.

You hush him, "Hear that?" You whisper. By the squinty look on his face while he listens, no, he does not hear that.

"Clickers, close by," you supply.

He nods, taking his revolver in hand, each footstep placed with precision, as he takes point. The plastic grip of the pistol in your hand is only mildly comforting with one magazine remaining, which can easily be dumped into one clicker to take it down. You can tell the exact moment when Joel hears them. His whole body stiffens, and his posture shifts from trepidatious to stalking.

When you round the corner of the building, you finally see them. Two Infected who's entire bodies are overgrown by the fungus, their faces split open by fleshy orange pads. You have to manually override your flight instinct. Unfortunately they’re shuffling exactly where you were planning on going.

Two is an odd number. There must be more nearby. Could be five more, could be twenty more. Best do this quietly, and then sneak by any others, unnoticed.

Joel motions at you, putting a finger to his lips. Then he motions for you to take the Clicker closest to the building.

You nod. He puts away his gun and pulls from his pack a long piece of shrapnel fashioned into a shiv. You follow suit tucking your gun behind your back and flicking open your knife.

The Clicker closet to you lets out nasty gurgle, sending shivers down your arms. You hate getting close to any Infected, but especially Clickers. Touching any part of their fungus covered forms peels your insides. Also there's the whole risk of having your throat ripped out.

You part ways with Joel, tracking your Clicker as it shuffles this way and that. As you approach, you can see Joel tracking his from the periphery. You have to cast that from your mind, you need to focus. You clutch the knife handle harder.

You get within five steps of the thing before the sounds of Joel taking down his Clicker has the one in front of you whipping around. You get full fungal frontal as it shuffles right at you faster than it was before. You start back-peddling as quietly as possible. Shit, shit, shit.

The thing stops and is winding up to do its horrible shriek, which will set it on you. It’s incredibly risky, but you have no other choice. You lunge at the monster from head on, knife first. The blade cuts through the first layer of fungus covering its jugular, stunning it briefly. You take advantage, swinging around it and grabbing it by the back of its head so it can't bite you while you stab it through the slit you made in the toughened skin. Blood spurts from its neck and you restrain it, only letting it go when it falls limp.

The body falls to the ground with a thump. You straighten up, chest rising in fast breaths. Joel is watching you, wiping blood from his hands, a dead Clicker by his feet. He nods at you, like a coach pleased with their athlete's performance. You stomp out the butterfly that dare flutter in your stomach. Why should you give a damn what he thinks?

Joel motions with his head, indicating you to follow him. It happens to be the way you were planning on going, so you do. You get within a few feet of him when something from the side tackles you to the ground.

You land on your shoulder hard, the impact sending jolts through your arm. You pin your other shoulder to your ear, protecting the side of your neck from the Stalker thrashing on top of you. It would prefer to rip your throat out but one stray nibble will kill you. You manage to plant one foot on its stomach, pushing against its weight, so its teeth aren’t almost grazing your skin.

Before you can even think of how you’re going to get your knife in it or get your gun out without letting it too close, its thrown off you. You watch from your back as Joel pins the side of its head against the ground with his hand and shoves his shiv under its chin.

The Stalker falls still, and Joel stands, wiping the blade on his jeans. You let your head fall against the pavement, forcing your breaths to come evenly. Fear dissolves into anger. How could you let yourself for being so distracted? By what? Idiotic emotional conflict? What are you, a teenager again?

“You good?” Joel asks, leaning over you to extend his hand. You interpret this as him being impatient, wanting you to get over almost getting bit.

“I’m fine,” you smack his hand out of your way. Joel sighs heavily as you walk past him. You ignore this and keep a close look out for any more infected lurking in the alleys.

“So,” you keep your tone short, “where will you go?”

“West,” Joel says, his tone just as clipped as yours.

You shake your head, anger rearing her head too quickly these days, “I can’t believe this bullshit. That’s not a fucking answer.”

Joel must have had enough, because he stops and rounds on you, forcing you to take a step back to maintain distance. “If you hate me so much feel free to walk in the other direction. I. Didn’t. Know. I thought they were Fireflies. I thought they was gonna ransom you for someone named David Hobbs. I’d done shit like that for the Fireflies before and no one ever ended up tortured or dead. FEDRA lied, just like Randy lied.”

You are completely taken by surprise. That's definitely the most words he's ever said at once. The name Randy feels like a slap to your face, further stunning you.

It takes you a good many moments to unravel everything you're feeling. Does it make it better, knowing he thought the Fireflies wouldn’t kill you? What about the fact that he came back, risking his life to get you out?

And yet, when you made the deal with Randy, a part of you knew something was off. You weren't stupid. You were desperate. You know Joel isn’t a dumb man.

“You never say sorry, do you.”

Joel lets out a huff, “I don’t believe in that shit. Saying sorry don’t mean jack, just makes excuses so its okay to do it all over again. You make amends by doing right by the people you wronged.”

You surprisingly agree with his sentiment. Ninety-nine percent of the times you’ve heard the words ‘I’m sorry’ were merely placating fluff. You cover your emotional turmoil with a joke, “Good thing you aren’t married.”

Bitter amusement takes over Joel's face, “My ex-wife would agree with that.”

You reel, the new information truly taking you by surprise you momentarily forget the argument, “You had a wife?”

His perpetual frowns deepens, “Don’t gotta say it like that.”

“But I do. You just don’t seem the marrying type." You defend your position.

Images of Joel in a tux, scratching at the bow tie tied too tight around his neck, standing underneath an archway of flowers floats in your minds eye.

Joel being surprisingly sassy for a middle-aged man rolls his eyes while he says, “I guess she’d agree with you,” with a lilt to his voice.

You have to physically restrain yourself from peppering him with a thousand more questions. You clear your throat, “Well, if the whole actions speak louder than words stands, when I ask you where you’re going, I expect an answer that doesn’t sound like you’re still dragging me around with my hands tied.”

By Joel’s face, you can tell he genuinely hadn’t been paying attention to that. But he nods, “Deal.”

“Ok, you’re going to lead me out of this city, and then I’m going to Boston, and we never have to see each other again. Deal?”

"Deal." If you knew better, you’d say Joel almost looks doleful.

Silently, you walk side by side down the street, dogging around broken down cars and any pits in the asphalt. The heat isn’t as bad as it was a week ago, the rain on the ground keeping things cool for now.

The caws of ravens sitting on streetlights are the only sounds in the city. You wonder if the on from the roof is among them.

The answer is solidified when two sweep across your path at about head height, right in front of you and Joel. They do a barrel roll around each other before spreading their wings and sweeping up high again, disappearing around the corner of a building. The display feels pointed, it feels familiar. It makes even Joel stop and look after them for a moment.

“That was cool,” you grin at him, the aerial acrobat performance lowering your walls.

Joel quietly agrees, “Didn’t know they could do that.”

You wonder if that was some sort of mating ritual, do ravens mate for life?

“I always wished I could fly,” you say before you can cringe at the silliness of it. “You’d never be trapped, you’d always have an escape route, just take to the sky.”

Joel does his part not mentioning that nets exist, and guns.

The ravens keep pace with you for a while, performing tricks in the air. One swoops so close by your head you feel the rush of air breeze past. And then eventually you notice that you haven’t seen any cross your path in a good while. They’re gone.

The city is completely quiet. This should be a comfort. The lack of Infected swarming the streets, means less danger, right?

Joel is dead silent. Quiet even for Joel. But he’s very much on alert. He feels it too. Something different in the air.

And then you see it.

An eye. Painted on a wall. It’s huge, about three body lengths tall. It’s made of three simple lines. The color is a red that's rusted to almost brown. Like oxidized blood.

Joel stills besides you when he sees it.

“Should we turn back?” You whisper.

“No,” He responds immediately. His tone confirms your suspicion. Whoever made the symbol might want exactly that. It could be a warning, or a funnel.

“Ok, so we move like escaping a rip current,” you offer.

Joel nods. Being predictable might be the worse thing to do if someone is truly hunting you. Although so far, this is the first sign of people in the city aside from the note in the office building. One of the notes did mention hunters, but that note was years old, maybe even a decade.

Joel keeps to the shadows of the stores, moving in an almost zigzag pattern down the streets. You keep close, checking behind at regular intervals. An hour goes by. Then two. And still no further signs of people.

Midday you seek solace in a cafe, eating the brick of a protein bars slowly and in silence.

“So what gives?” You speak up for the first time in hours, “I haven’t got the shivers you get when you’re being watched, but there’s something. It feels like the city is…” You grasp at straws trying to figure out what you’re exactly expressing.

Joel doesn’t look away from the window as he names it, "Waiting."

His tone sends shivers down your back. It’s not just your imagination. It’s real.

“Yeah,” you agree, regarding him differently, trying to put your finger on it.

And yet the rest of the day goes by much the same. The sun hangs low in the sky, coloring the city with hues of orange and yellow. The shadows grow longer and have you jumping at ones that reach out for you from around corners. You decide to hole up in a bookstore before it gets too dark.

“I’ll be back,” Joel says before he disappears. You assume to take a piss.

Five minutes pass. You help yourself to the protein bars riding in his backpack. Ten minutes pass. Worry gnaws at your stomach. You comfort yourself that without a watch it might be less than your anxious mind feels its been. Your own bladder presses uncomfortably against your belly.

You step outside, the warmth of the sun significantly leached compared to midday.

“Joel?”

You wait for one beat, two beats. There’s no answer. About a half mile west a group of birds take flight. They look like your ravens.

Ok, first you’re gonna pee before you piss yourself, then go find Joel.

You step into the alley and your blood freezes.

There’s a man. About twenty feet from you, staring right at you.

He puts his left hand up, “Oh thank god, I thought I was a goner,” his right hand holds his stomach, putting pressure over the blood soaking the light grey of his shirt. He’s older, older than Joel by about fifteen years, maybe more.

He keeps walking closer, slowly, “Please, have you seen my daughter? We got separated,”

The world shifts aspect ratio as your vision narrows, the pulse in your stomach beats so hard you distantly wonder if you’re having an aneurysm. The moment balances on a knife's edge. You must make your decision. Listen to your body, or listen to your brain. If you don’t act in the next two seconds, you might not get to decide anymore.

The man stumbles closer, his hair is completely grey, “Please, I need your help-“ he never finishes his sentence. You pull your pistol from behind your back and empty three rounds into his chest and belly. He stops, clutching at his chest, and wordlessly falls to the ground. You can hear him gasping, you know this is when you finish the job. You abandon your training and listen to instinct. She tells you to run.

Shouting rises from nearby, mostly behind the man. You don’t stick around to meet who’s yelling, definitely not the man’s daughter. You make out one clear male voice, “She fucking shot him!”

Instinct praises you, you were right. Next she urges what to do next. Find Joel. God please don't let them have got to him first.

You burst through the bookstore, never stopping when he’s not there. You swoop his backpack off the ground and put it on as you run out the back.

“Joel!”

You slam the back door open and immediately duck the bat that swings at your head. You stumble backwards as a man the height of the door frame steps inside. You raise your gun, but you’re too close, he swings at you with a fist the size of your head and knocks you to the ground.

Your gun clatters to the ground and is promptly kicked away. You start sliding backwards on the floor, desperately trying to blink away the stars clouding your vision. You aren’t fast enough, he’s on top of you. He grabs you by the throat and starts closing his hands together, all the while being completely silent. You grab at his hands, digging your nails into skin that feels like stone as your vision starts to fade.

Joel feels the mans punch land on his cheekbone, likely doing more damage to the attacker’s fist than him. It stuns the man briefly, giving Joel the opportunity to take him to the ground and crack his skull on the asphalt. Joel springs up, looking for the second attacker that ambushed him. Sounds of a scuffle draw his eye to the backdoor of the store, left wide open. He runs in without second thought but skids to a stop at the confusing sight.

The second attacker lying on the ground, strangely still. Joel sees your boots hidden underneath the man and rushes him.

“No, no, no,” Joel grabs the man and throws him off you surprisingly easily. He’s limp. And you’re completely covered in blood.

Joel drops to his knees and shakes you, trying to wake you, but your eyes spring open immediately. You cough and blood bubbles up. You roll sideways to spit more out on the floor.

“Are you ok?” Joel demands, confused and scared.

You nod and with one hand hold a thumbs up while the other holds your knife, the blade and handle drenched in blood. Joel looks over at the body and finally sees the hole in the man’s throat leaking fluid like a burst pipe. A bleed like that comes with a severed jugular vein.

“Shit girl, you’ve got some aim with that thing,” Joel praises, helping you wipe your eyes clear. You lean over and spit more red onto the floor.

“They waited til we were separated. One approached me, said he was hurt,” you tell him as fast as you can, breaths coming a mile a minute.

Joel feels pure rage burn his throat at the thought, “They've been watching us.”

You nod, “I killed him before he got close, I don’t know if that was the right thing to do.” Joel sees your hands shaking as you wipe your face, "I didn't think, I just reacted to my gut, everything felt so wrong."

“Look at me,” Joel asks of you. You listen. Joel feels something tug deep in his chest at the wildness of your wide, scared eyes. “You did the absolute right thing. Now we gotta go before others get here.”

You breathe deep, your face hardening. You stand and regard the man you killed apathetically. Joel wonders what you’re doing before you crouch and remove the shotgun from the man’s shoulder.

You check the chamber, then you nod, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Joel regards you for a moment longer than he probably should. Holding the weapon you earned in battle, covered in blood, with that look in your eye, you make quite a sight.

“Yes ma’am,” Joel agrees, taking point out the door, feeling a little better knowing you're watching his back.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #my writing #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #the soldier and the smuggler

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