#just overdone and DRY

[nightwingsgirlfriend]

Favourite robin?

I love dick.

[canisonicscrewyou]

Okay I finished cooking dinner for those who want to continue being horny and/or insane in my inbox, but now with full undivided attention.

(pan seared 'roast' chicken legs with crispy rosemary garlic potatoes and dijon mustard+beer+parsley pan sauce)

[smileysuh]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @runahways - @milkteade - @mocha000

@anothershorthuman - @notbeforelong - @darthlunaa

@chogiwapadada - @meowniee - @pandabur666

@just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono - @lovelyhan -

@grilledbananas - @quennlenn - @zezedoesshit

@unlikelysublimekryptonite - @wonwoothinker

svt taglist

@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird

@xcynthiaaa

thanks to those who interacted with the teaser

@sourkimchi - @honeyhotteoks - @hearts4yawnzzn - @blspphr3

@amazinggraxia - @biancaness - @iightsung - @luvseungcheol

@9900z - @clownprincehoeshi - @heydaystay - @gimmematchas

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@jeonghansbf - @amultislifeforme - @wonyderful - @markgeollie

@ibelieve-icanfly - @cherrycheoliee

[crucialplayer]

Thoughts on mercury placements

!! everything is based purely on my experiences with signs, written with no other purpose than to share my observations and be unserious.

Gemini mercury. Throw shit at the wall and see what sticks mercury. When they talk be sure ur not the only one hearing this thought for the first time - they are too. They think as they speak. Cannot hold info inside of them longer than 5 minutes so no secrets kept, no embarrassing opinions left unspoken.

Sagittarius mercury. This one doesn’t really stir the pot, usually just blows it up. They are bold with words for no reason. What they are saying is almost always what they truly think. Will give a random lecture that no one asked for on a topic they barely know anything about.

Aries mercury. Сan either be supeeeer fun or suuuuuper insane and nothing in between. Very expressive and usually swear a lot, but they have the best sense of timing with it. No filter of course, so often get themselves in trouble with that whirlwind of a mouth.

Scorpio mercury. They kinda have a talent for talking shit in the most cutting way. It’s like a perfect combo of clairvoyance and knowing where to strike with that deadly sting using words. Sometimes don’t recognize when they’ve overdone it tho so they can come across as edgy.

Virgo mercury. Meticulous mercury, very observant. They talk even faster than Gemini mercuries but they actually manage to get their point across. Can be blunt but typically when it’s much needed. There’s a reason why this is ultimately the best mercury placement.

Capricorn mercury. Dry as fuck. Also I’ve noticed they like to complain a lot but not on abstract themes. More like being precise about why this thing sucks. Can be very adamant and stubborn with their opinions. Can sound so confident you forget to analyze what they are saying.

Pisces mercury. So whimsical and romantic but at what cost. Literally can never tell what they are trying to convey, pretty sure they have no idea too. Get carried away with their associations and metaphors that make sense only to them. If they’re nerdy it’s even worse.

Cancer mercury. Awkward with words but in a cute way. Hate to be misconstrued and taken out of context. Therefore tend to over-explain themselves and things in general but in a way that makes the point slip away further. Also very sentimental.

Aquarius mercury. Usually like to argue on social justice issues… with people who are removed from politics as much as possible. Don't care to be understood by people they consider irrelevant to them. It's like the fewer people actually do get them the better they feel but that’s just my theory. Also artistic.

Libra mercury. More concise than Pisces but ur still kinda left with a «what...» feeling. Also poetic and romantic. They usually have 1 or 2 topics they can talk about hours on end but can lose interest once the convo shifts onto something else. Like to giggle a lot too.

Leo mercury. I call this one bimbo mercury in the best way possible. Very entertaining and charismatic, but don’t give much thought to what they’re saying. Like to be the authority in every convo and if they are not they just kinda… leave. Loud (if they don't have a water sun).

Taurus mercury. Time ceases to exist, nature slows its rhythm. Some might call it relaxing I call it torture. If surrounded by their friends they tend to speed up and show more of a goofy side. Nice voices, yes yes.

[feyascorner]

2 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. While seeing him leaving tore you apart from the inside and out, he chose not to see you. He decided what the end of your relationship would be without ever stopping to ask you. You should hate him, truly.

But as soon as you swing open the door, you only have one dying wish.

You want to see him.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. and he finally makes an appearance;,; ik the first two chapters are a bit slow but i think i can start picking up the pace now woohoo!! Reader/Tav’s feelings are supposed to be confusing on purpose but I may have overdone it a tad,,

He hadn’t had time to gather any of his belongings when he left. And while your other companions graciously rid of everything they could into a single box packed away in the corner of the basement, even they could not bring themselves to throw the handheld mirror away–whether because of the intricate designs framing its reflection that surely held value or because of your apprehension for throwing it out, you’re not sure. You haven’t used it yourself, too afraid of even touching its handle out of fear it may crumble away.

One of the orphan children that Cora’s harboring places a cup in front of you. You raise a brow at her, silently asking how Cora’s doing, and she only shakes her head solemnly before scurrying away.

“Where were you at the time of the murder?”

“They’ve already said numerous times where they were,” Lae’zel spits in the Flaming Fist’s direction. “Are all Fists this incompetent, or are you just a special case?”

You run a hand down your face while Gale attempts to calm Lae’zel. Shadowheart’s had her eyes trained on the cups perched around the table for quite some time now, occasionally glancing up to listen to the Fist’s interrogation. Unfortunately, the cups lack their usual alcohol, but you don’t complain about the water with how dry your throat is. You pat her shoulder, and she finally meets your eyes, nodding before resuming her focus on whatever the Fist is saying. You’re not sure yourself at this point.

“As Flaming Fists, we must put the guilty in their rightful place, regardless of whether they’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate or not,” he straightens his back, then narrows his brows at you. “And right now, all witnesses point here. You were seen leaving the tavern with a man reported as missing this morning. Care to explain that?”

You can hear Gale’s chair scrape against the floor. “You can’t be serious. They saved the entire city, for Mystra’s sake! If they wanted bloody murder, they would've been positively drenched in blood by now.”

However, all you feel is the searing stares of your other companions, who remain blissfully unaware of the encounters of your previous night. But you can tell they’re not accusing you, unlike the Fist—they never would—but rather demanding an explanation. You sigh deeply. “I didn’t go home with him. We spoke for almost two minutes before I left.”

“And what proof do you have of that?”

“Considering I woke up in the Blushing Mermaid, I’m sure you can do a little questioning there to find some witnesses,” you stand, the chairs of your leg scratching against the tiled floors. “Are we done here? I need to go speak with Cora, because her husband just died."

“Sit,” he hisses, his fingers reaching for his weapon. “I won’t repeat myself.”

The air becomes tense in mere seconds. It'd been uncomfortable moments ago, but not as much as this—not enough to make Lae’zel reach for her sword as she’s doing now. Your eyes narrow warningly into slits at the Fist, but his subordinates only step forward to stand on either side of him as if daring you to take another step. From the corner of your peripheral, you can see Shadowheart’s palm spark with light. The others occupying the Highberry household, even from outside on the patio, are talking in hushed whispers, all gazes trained on your very breath. And after a suffocating silence, you hear a chuckle from the door.

“Now, Yevir, we shouldn’t be treating our city’s most esteemed citizens with such hostility.”

Grand Duke Ravengard–Wyll’s father–steps into the home, shaking his head. The Fists, who were willing to go head to head with you mere seconds ago, are now turned and saluting the Duke, which makes Lae’zel scoff at your side. “You lot are dismissed under my name. Though I do have a word to exchange with the bard.”

Former bard, you want to correct him.

Your companions exchange an apprehensive glance at one another before you step forward. “And what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with the Duke?”

“You jest. We are all allies here,” he smiles. “Come, we must speak privately.”

You grin wickedly at Yevir as Ravengard steps past you toward the office in one of the other rooms. Yevir only shoots knives with his eyes, and you return the sentiments by sticking out your tongue mockingly, which earns a snort from Shadowheart. Then you quickly follow after Ravengard, shutting the door behind you.

“Have you had any news from my son?” he asks, facing the window with two arms locked behind him.

“Karlach’s been sending a few letters. They’re limited, as you might expect, but they do come,” you say. “She says Wyll is doing alright. They both are.”

He lets out a breath that can’t be mistaken for anything but what it is: relief. “Good. Now, as for what went down between you and Yevir in the other room, I apologize on his behalf. He’s always been too passionate for his own good. Righteousness is admirable, but not when it blinds your judgment.”

“A lot of things can blind judgment. I don’t blame him.”

He turns to you, and despite the questioning gaze in his eyes, he ignores it. “I’m sure you’re well aware of what’s been occurring in the city—you recently received a first-hand experience.”

“So has half the people on the block, apparently.”

“I’m not talking about Cora’s husband.”

He reaches behind his back, pulling out a slim file and holding it to you. “The number of victims is increasing every day now.”

Flipping through the pages in the file, each one is etched with the murder scene of each victim. There’s one with a man haphazardly buried half in the ground, another with a woman collapsed next to the alleyway in Wyrm’s crossing, another of a man bleeding out in the fields of Rivington. You flip the pages again and again until you arrive at one you would’ve preferred to forget.

“Colin Hedgins,” Ravengard says. “Though most of the Fist, including Yuvir, is unaware, his body was found this morning.”

His silvery hair is stained with what you can only assume is blood. His face, which is stretched in horror, makes you wonder if maybe slitting his throat yourself would have given him a more peaceful leave to the afterlife. Not that he really deserved it. You swallow hard, shutting the file away. “So you think I killed him too?”

“No. In fact, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Then why show me this? This is classified information, no?”

“Each one of these victims has one similarity aside from their brutal deaths,” he frowns. “The puncture wounds on their neck, and the fact that their bodies seem to be drained of blood.”

Your breath hitches. While you’d had your suspicions, surely not all of them could have been of vampires? With Orin and the Bhaal worshippers now defeated or retreated into the shadows, the city had gotten eons safer—this just felt like a slap to your face. One group of murderers after another, it seemed. Instead of replying, you stare at Ravengard with pursed lips, urging him to get to his point.

“Wyll has told me of your relations with the vampires,” he says, and it makes your teeth clench. “He was gone by the time I’d joined your camp, but Wyll tells me you had a vampire for a companion for most of your journey. Could he be involved in-”

“No.” The answer is fast. Almost instant. And while a part of you feels disgusted for defending him, even now, another part refuses to let you live while the city thinks of him as nothing but a bloodsucking monster. Even if everyone thought of him as one now. “He wouldn’t have.”

The worst part is that he fully could have, even if you don't want to believe it. Your mind flashes back to the way his hands had felt around your throat, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Ravengard’s expression softens, and you see it again. Pity. Gods, you’d do anything to never see that kind of face again. “I’m also aware that you two had an—-arrangement. One that involved more than just mere friendship. But you must know if we cannot catch the vampire spawns that are running rampant in our city, dozens if not hundreds of more people will die.”

You want to tell him that he should not search for sympathy in you. Because you were once a person willing to get rid of 7000 spawns for the sake of one lover, who only ended up trying to kill you. “He won’t talk to me anyway. I’m sure you also know he didn’t leave on good terms, seeing as you seem to know everything about my love life. I can’t help you.”

The words come out snappier than expected, but Ravengard doesn’t react like he expected this.

“I see,” he says. “Then perhaps you’ll at least be able to keep an eye out. And please, report to me.”

You don’t budge.

He takes it as a sign to leave and moves toward the door. “If you do change your mind, let me know.”

You want to tell him your future is not a matter of what you want. It’s what he wants, and he’s already chosen your fate.

“And is anyone else aware that an entire horde of vampire spawn is living under the city?” Shadowheart says in exasperation. “No wonder they think Astarion’s the one who did it. They think there aren’t any more vampires here anyway! With that many vampires, imagine what destruction they could bring if they miss a few meals!”

“Surely we can convince our sharp-toothed friends to lay low in the Underdark with the others for a while? We convinced half of them. I don’t see why we can’t convince the other,” Gale suggests.

“A warrior who seeks blood shall have blood,” Lae’zel hisses. “I see no reason for them to leave. If I’d been a spawn, I would stay behind a city full of cattle than return to a place of eternal darkness.”

Your head hurts. From continuously sleeping anywhere but the comforts of your bed or from what’s going on, you don’t know, and you don’t care. You just want a nice long bath to wash the dirt on your face and a hot meal to go along with it. Your companions continue arguing, and it’s times like these when you wish Wyll and Karlach were still traveling beside you—they were usually the diffusers of the group.

To an extent, you had been too. Not anymore, though. That was the least of your worries.

“Why must we fix Astarion’s mess in the first place?” Lae’zel adjusts the sword she’d been cleaning on her lap. “We are not dogs to do his bidding. And from what I recall, we have no longer relations with him.”

This finally urges you to speak, almost instinctively. “We have to help. That’s final.”

It's not often that you reinforce your power as the appointed "leader" of the group, preferring to incorporate their opinions rather than choosing all on your own. They all turn to you with a mixture of suspicion and mostly cringe from Lae’zel. Your face flares in response. “I’m just saying we can’t just let a bunch of innocent people die!”

“Of course,” Gale coughs.

You can feel yourself losing your composure, your palms feeling clammy. Still, you straighten your back. “Astarion has nothing to do with me either. I’m doing this for the city.”

“Right.”

You opt to just clear your throat. “I’ll talk to Petras. We’ll figure out a way for all of us to be happy.”

Lae’zel rolls her eyes, but Shadowheart only raises a brow. “And how exactly are you going to find Petras? It’s not like he has a mailbox or an address.”

“I’ll figure it out. Always do,” you smile, and her face softens. “In the meanwhile, I’ll have to rely on you guys to pick up my work for rebuilding the city so I can focus on tracking him down. I don’t think it’ll take too long—maybe a week or so.”

Gale’s face knits together in concern. “And you’re quite sure you won’t need any of us to accompany you?”

“They’re fully capable of taking care of themselves, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “Very well, then. We’ll await good news.”

Looking back on it, perhaps you did need the help.

Days upon days of searching, yet nothing. You’re sure you covered almost half the sewers at this point, and you’re not sure if you’re just insanely unlucky or the vampires just left while you’d been searching elsewhere.

But the number of deaths says otherwise. 

So you’d turned to a new approach. If you couldn’t find them, you’d let them find you.

The days stretch longer, with the city being in its summer season. And while you’re grateful, since it means vampires will have less time to hunt, you always despise the way this cloak is sticking to your skin and the hairs that seem glued to your cheeks with the hood stifling any hope of breathing freely. Still determined, you force your legs forward into the darkest alleyways you can find.

Though you’ve had a few fruitless days, pacing aimlessly throughout the city during the dead of night into early morning, a part of yourself keens at the moonlight draping over you tonight.

It had been on a night like this, one where the clouds make way for the moonglow to illuminate what lurks in the city during the night. Though at the time, instead of the comfortable bed in the house you and your companions managed to buy after scraping enough gold together, you were sleeping on a bedroll that did little to shield you from the rocks, doing nothing to even the ground below.

Back then, your companions were nothing but that—companions on a journey you hoped to end as quickly as possible to return to the taverns and bars of Baldur’s gate, where you would spend your nights singing the familiar tunes that your patrons enjoyed most. So after the camp celebration with the Tieflings, when Astarion led you to the forest clearing where you first felt skin other than your own, you realized this adventure of yours was more than just that. It was a new stepping stone in your life.

He’d held you close to him, offering you whispers of affection while his hands ran through your hair. He’d kissed you, his hands caressing either side of your cheek. He’d let you marvel at the scars on his back, his hands resting on your waist.

The same hands that wrapped around your throat months later. You can still feel them sometimes.

Despite your speech to Gale before Cora’s husband showed up dead, you weren’t sure how you would react if you ever saw your former lover again. On nights that weren’t plagued with nightmares, you stayed up, wondering if you’d cry. If you’d reach out for him, embracing him in a hug you never wanted to let go from. If you’d let him brush his knuckles on your cheeks, if you’d let him press a kiss to your forehead, if you’d let him love you again.

You weren’t sure. And a part of you—the part shoved deep inside the corners of your heart—wonders if never seeing him again was a blessing. That regardless of the ache in your heart now, never seeing him would save you from something worse.

So deeply lost in your thoughts, you barely notice the murky figure swinging a pipe at your head.

Nearly scathing the surface of a concussion, you dodge, but he’s too fast. Before you’ve even begun reaching for your knife, the figure swings you toward the wall, and you swear you can hear it crack as your back collides with it. Your vision only manages to straighten itself once the figure has you shoved onto the ground, either of their knees on the sides of your hip. 

Instinctively, your hand flies up to stab at their arm, but you’re no match. They twist your wrist, forcing you to drop the blade, and pins either of your arms to the ground. You can’t see anything but the glint of their fangs against the light.

You’d fought vampires before, and you had never seen one so fast. So aggressive. So primal. Astarion had entertained you with friendly spars, but you’d also fought Cazador to the death. Even he hadn’t been this fast.

“I just want to talk to Petras! I’m not going to hurt you, I–” Your pleas go deaf on their ears.

When you squint, you can finally see the blood staining their fangs, and you realize that they’ve already fed.

They’re fed, and they’re still hungry.

A fed vampire, is a strong one, you remember. And if you add their hunger on top of that...

Even as you try to yank yourself away, they only squeeze their grip harder, enough to cut off blood circulation. The color drains from your face, your expression almost fearful. No, it does scare you. It scares you that this is only a spawn, but they can still attack someone so ferociously. It scares you that Astarion could have done the exact same thing to you.

The spawn yanks your head to the side with a claw on your hair, allowing them access to your throat. You thrash and kick, but to no avail, forced to watch as they’re about to sink their teeth into you. You hate your mind because even at death’s door, all you can think about is him.

Is this what he would’ve done to you had your companions not been there to save you?

Is this what he wanted to do the day he first approached you, asking for your blood?

Anger burns in your chest, and with the last bit of your strength, you lift your head and bite them first. Your teeth sink into their throat, feeling the break of skin just before they rip you away, wailing in pain as you’re carelessly tossed to the ground. As they grasp at the wound on their neck, you take the opportunity to lunge for your knife.

You feel genuine rage for the first time in what feels like forever. No self-pity, no dejection, no sorrow for losing the man you’d given everything to, but rage for the state you were reduced to just because of him. And that while his leaving tore you apart from the inside and out, he chose not to see you. He decided what the end of your relationship would be without ever stopping to ask you.

You thrust the blade into their chest, and they stop. It’s no stake, but it’ll do for now. And as their throat gurgles with blood, all you can hear is the desperate panting of your own breath when their body falls to the ground, face first. 

You pray they’re dead.

Then, your vision in one eye blurs with red. When you lift your hand to your forehead, you feel the warm blood trailing down, probably from when you collided with the wall. The little strength left in your legs vanishes as you reel forward, your knees crashing onto the mud beside the spawn.

Though you thankfully manage to collapse on your back rather than your poor counterpart who’s probably choking on the dirt and grim of the city grounds even in death, you can feel your head going light, even as your hands tighten around the knife laying on your chest. You greet the moon again, this time with a breathy laugh.

Seluné must be smiling back at you, surely.

You’re not sure who’s standing above you when you open your eyes again, being only seconds away from entirely blacking out. But you think it must be an angel, with his snow-white curls and how he revels under the veil of the moon. You want to reach out to him, but your shaky arm says otherwise.

He’s beautiful, you think, even if you can’t make out his face.

You hope the angel doesn’t pity you.

Apparently, heaven is at Elfsong Tavern. You’d imagined being greeted with the smell of roses and a fresh stream rather than the overwhelming stench of booze, but you suppose it’s fitting considering how you’d died in a puddle of what you assume to be a concoction of cat piss and your own blood.

No, that can’t be right.

Looking around frantically, you lurch forward, the sweat and mud sticking your hair to your skin. Multiple pairs of eyes bore into you. You’re slumped in the tavern's kitchen, several Fist soldiers peering at you curiously. And finally, you manage to make out Shadowheart, whose hands are hovering over you with a gentle glow.

“Lay back down, I’m almost done,” she frowns.

You ignore her request. “The spawn! I’m not sure if they’re dead–”

“Never mind that,” she snaps. “They found you blacked out on the ground next to a dead body and a broken wall. What in bloody hell happened last night? Do you know how much it scared us when the damn Fists were banging at our door at 4:30 in the morning?”

Your head spins, and you clutch at your head. “Got ambushed. I tried to talk to them, but apparently, they just wanted a midnight snack.”

“Heavens above,” she breathes. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“No, I was so close, Shadowheart,” you shake your head frantically, smearing at the mud still plastered on your face. “I’ll be more prepared next time. If I manage to just capture one of the spawn alive, I could ask them where Petras is-”

There’s a loud yell from the hatch leading to the basement. Your head whips in its direction, then to Shadowheart, staring at her inquisitively.

She sighs, finally lowering her hands to her side. “Look, I need you to listen to me very closely. As your friend, I can’t have you losing your composure in front of the Duke downstairs. They’re in the hideout, but they’re also with–”

You hear Gale’s voice holler. “You’re the only one who knows them well enough, Astarion!”

Suddenly, your blood runs cold. While Shadowheart tries to keep you still, nothing can stop you as you yank the hatch open, sprinting downstairs. You run through the secret entrance to the hideout, your mind racing rapidly with words you can’t even decipher because they’re going by so fast. You want to hide away and barge into the room simultaneously, and the pounding of your head does nothing to help.

You're different now, you assure yourself. A part of you hates him for what he did, and you're willing to act on this hatred. You won't be passing out on the street, drunk on the pit of isolation he left behind, praying he'd appear from thin air and assure you things are fine. You're better now, and you did it all without his help.

But as soon as you swing open the door, you only have one dying wish.

You want to see him.

The room is cold–empty, except for three figures alongside two more guards standing at the door. Ravengard, standing at one end of the circular table, has his arms crossed, brows knitted together comprehensively. Gale, who had been pacing back and forth around the room, freezes instantly when he sees you. So does everyone else.

“Ah, and here comes the star of the show.” You haven’t heard his voice in so long. It almost feels foreign.

Standing between the other men on either side of the table, Astarion’s eyes bore into you, lips curled in a grin barely showing off his fanged teeth. When you lock eyes, yours grows wider as you take him in.

He looks almost the same. The same curly white hair, the same blood-red eyes, and the same smile that once brought you joy yet now only fueled the endless longing of your nightmares. While you expect yourself to feel anger, relief, or shock, all you feel is the rapid beating of your heart, your mind void of everything besides how uncomfortable the dried mud feels on your face. Your breath hitches as he lifts a finger to the side of his head. Only then do you also feel the warm liquid sliding down your cheek.

“You’re bleeding, darling.”

With the inevitable urge to barf up nothing from your empty stomach, you're back to being the same person as you were four months ago.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @ukeia-uchiha @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova

[kyeomray]

rise and go down on him

pairing: kim mingyu x afab reader

content: established relationship, some fluff, slice of life, pwp, smut (18+ MDNI!!!!)

summary: mingyu is the busiest man you know, yet he always finds time to take care of you. so on the one morning he has time to sleep in, you decide to repay the favor. (smut warnings below)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is the first fic i’m releasing on tumblr…kinda nervous lol. I realize this concept might be overdone but I thought it was a good place to start and hope I put my own spin on it!! let me know if anything looks wrong with the format and thank you for reading xx

smut warnings: some kissing, dry humping, handjob, oral (m receiving), pet names (baby, babe, slut one time), cum eating, some pussy touching, tbh this is filthy sorry not sorry.

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you stir awake as large, warm arms engulf you from behind. smiling sleepily, you bring your hands up to softly rub along the length of them. mingyu grumbles into your hair and you let out a snort at how cute he is. you missed mornings like this.

being an idol, mingyu’s mornings didn’t typically start this freely. he was either up and out the door far before you even even woke up, or so exhausted he slept through most of his off days. you understood - with his grueling and inconsistent schedules - why intimate mornings were such a rare occurrence between the two of you.

despite his lack of time (and often energy), mingyu never neglected to make you happy and totally satisfied in your relationship. if he got food while he was out after practice, he always brought some home for you. he cleaned up after himself no matter how tired he was, knowing how much you didn’t like to do it. if he was too sleepy to dote on you, he would just suffocate you with snuggles until you both drifted off instead. and lastly, he never, ever, left you wanting or needy.

he savored every second of time you had together. his favorite was dragging you to shower with him whenever he got the chance. he would press you against the wet tiles and throw your leg over his shoulder, burying his face into your wet heat until your whole body trembled. he’d bend you over your vanity while you did your morning routine, being careful not to ruin your hair or makeup while he plowed into your cunt from behind. he would even finger you till you cried while you watched movies on the couch if he didn’t have energy for anything else. he always assured you it was okay. he wanted to pleasure you every chance he got. and you were so in love with him for it.

this particular morning, you woke up in a spectacular mood. it’s not often mingyu gets a few days off in a row and it’s definitely not often that you both get to sleep in together. the realization makes your heart flutter, and you bring mingyu’s big hand up to press delicate kisses on his knuckles.

you feel him stir behind you, the evenness of his breathing coming to a stop. he presses his face further into the mess of your hair, inhaling deeply. you giggle slightly at the action, squirming at the warmth.

“good morning, handsome.” you whisper, resuming your stroking of his forcep. he groans quietly behind you.

“mornin’ baby.” mingyu rasps. he still sounds exhausted, and your heart clenches a little. you know he probably won’t want to get up for a while, and not one bit of you blames him or disagrees. you snuggle back into him further, relishing in the way his arms tighten around you.

“missed this so much ‘gyu.” you sigh softly, letting your head fall back to the pillow. “missed waking up with you.”

“me too, angel. c’mere.” mingyu moves his arm away from you and pulls on your hip gently, and you can tell he wants you to turn around.

you do exactly that, shifting your body until you’re facing your boyfriend in his arms. you’re so close that you can feel his soft breath fanning across your face. you beam at him before burrowing your head in the crook of his neck. he smells so warm and good, and you don’t think you ever want to leave this spot.

you love mingyu so incredibly much, and now is one of those times when your whole body is buzzing with that feeling. he always does so much for you, and you want to start doing half as much. making him feel half as loved as he makes you feel (which is still a lot). you can feel the mischievous grin form on your face; you know exactly what to do and you have the time today.

you start off innocent; lifting your head up to place small pecks all over mingyu’s cheeks and nose. his eyes open slightly as a small smirk forms on his lips, and you take that as an opportunity to press your own against them. he immediately melts into you, sighing into your mouth and rubbing his hands along the span of your back.

you hook your arms underneath mingyu’s armpits, moving your hands up to tug softly at the hair on his nape while you lightly suck his lips into your mouth. he groans at the action, and his tongue is immediately prodding at your lips.

you part your mouth, his tongue quickly finding your own and swirling against it. you can’t help the small whine that escaped you when mingyu’s hands find your ass, groping and squeezing the soft flesh shamelessly (and as if he isn’t still half asleep). he chuckles sleepily at your reaction, and you pull back from him briefly.

“you’re kind of a pervert, you know that kim mingyu?” there’s a smile on your face, and mingyu decides to push things a little further, slipping his hands into your underwear and spreading your ass cheeks apart while biting his lip. you gasp, pressing your hips further into him. “forget kind of, you’re a gigantic fuckin’ perv.”

“you do this to me, baby. it’s your fault i’m so horny all the time.” you laugh a little at the pout on his face, and move up to resume kissing him. his mouth is moving hungrily against yours despite the tired state of his body, and it has butterflies erupting deep in your stomach. you yank at his hair again, rougher this time, and attach your lips to the cut of his jaw.

he sighs out when you throw a leg over his hip, essentially laying halfway on top of him. your lips continue their attack on his neck, sucking marks into his soft skin as you roll your hips against him. mingyu is groaning softly, grabbing behind your knee and hauling you even closer to him. your thigh is pressed against something hot and hard when he does so, and an evil grin spreads on your face.

pulling back slightly, you watch mingyu’s face as you slowly trail your hand down his abdomen. the sight before you is kind of hilarious, really. his eyes are still heavy with sleep and his hair is a mess on top of his head, but his cock is raging against you underneath his shorts. you giggle at the sight as your hand reaches its destination.

his breath hitches when you rub your hand over him, stroking the shape of his erection teasingly. you can tell he’s already fully hard, and you squeeze your hand around him firmly just to feel the way his cock pulses in your grip. wetness seeps past the seam of your pussy as you do, and settles on the seat of your panties. you’ve got a long and fun morning ahead of you, you already know it.

“so hard for me already, and I just started touching you, gyu.” slipping your hand under his waistband, you smooth your fingertips over the oozing tip of his cock, relishing in the broken gasp he lets out.

“mm—mhm, y-yeah baby. you make me so hard.” he grunts, and you can tell he’s already gone. already panting as you rub his cock, working him up till he breaks.

“you work so much, baby. let me take care of you today.” you purr against his neck, wetly smooching the flesh there before pushing him to lay fully on his back. his cock stands straight up in his boxers, tenting the fabric almost comically. you work down his body, kissing and licking down his stomach before you reach his crotch.

you decide to tease him further, mouthing his dick over the fabric of his underwear until the material is soaked through. mingyu groans frustratedly, but you can tell he’s still too tired to reprimand you. you continue your ministrations, sucking and licking the covered tip of him till his thighs are trembling and he’s whining above you.

“fuck,” he gasps out when you yank his underwear down just enough so that his cock springs up against his stomach. he’s already leaking so much, and you wrap your fingers around his shaft to feel the weight of him. “p-please,” mingyu manages, tears already welling up in the corners of his eyes. “please don’t tease me baby. n-need you so bad.”

“I’m gonna take care of you gyu, don’t worry. gonna suck on your big cock till you explode.” you emphasize your words by spitting lewdly on his dick, working your hand around him while the wet noises of it fill the room. his body noticeably relaxes into the bed, and that’s when you go to town.

your lips wrap around him, massaging them over his tip before dipping your tongue into his leaking slit. he cries out and his whole body jolts, making you smirk against him. you go back to work, taking him further into your mouth with each bob of your head. his cock is coated in your saliva at this point, and you know this is only the beginning of the mess you two are going to make.

you look up at him as you practically bounce your mouth on his length, taking in his fucked-out expression. he’s still panting, and small whines and grunts are escaping with his breath. squeezing your fingers around his base, you hollow your cheeks around him, slowly sucking up his shaft until you reach the tip and swirl your tongue over him.

“fucking hell…you’re s-so fucking good at that. shit.” mingyu moans loudly, and you can tell you’re gonna be so wet that your underwear stick to you like a second skin after this. you’re desperate to make him cum, feel his cock jump with each spurt, so you hasten your movements. jerking him off as you slurp around him, making spit drip down the length of him.

you unwrap your hand from his shaft, bringing it down to play with his balls instead. he practically sobs out at that, his thighs quivering with each pass your lips make over the ridge of his head. he starts babbling, and that’s how you can tell he’s getting close.

“ss-so good baby. ‘m not gonna last. so so g-good.” mingyu slurs, drool beginning to seep onto his pillow as his eyes roll back. you take him deeper, your nose nearly touching his navel with each bob of your head. he’s so big that you’re starting to gag on him, but you push through anyway. you can’t help but wonder what the room would sound like to someone else, with the way you’re choking and slobbering on his dick.

mingyu’s riding the edge at this point, just needs a little something to get him there. it’s a good thing you know his body like the back of your hand, because you practically read his mind. gripping his girth once again, you squeeze the base of him. your lips tighten around him, dragging your tongue along with them as you move up his shaft. mingyu’s balls are tightening, his cock throbbing as you suction your mouth around him. you mentally prepare to take his load as you lap at his frenulum, already feeling him twitch under your tongue. sure enough, he starts crying out, desperate and pathetic ‘ahhh’s spilling from him and increasing in pitch.

“mmh, gonna cum. shit, baby. g-gonna cum. I—I’m cumming—mmmph!” mingyu’s jaw practically unhinges in a long, strained moan, his back threatening to arch off of the bed as his cock jerks in your mouth, pulsing with spurts of thick cum that land on your tongue and the back of your throat. you swear he cums for hours, his knuckles turning white as he grips the bed sheets.

you struggle to swallow the large mouthful of his load, but you somehow manage with only a few drops leaking out of the corners of your mouth. you squeeze the last few drops out of him with your hand before laving your tongue over him one last time to clean him up.

his body jerks and he whimpers in sensitivity at the overstimulation. you place one last kiss on his tip before sitting up, knowing he’s had enough. you watch him with your hands on your knees, observing the way he’s attempting to catch his breath, his arm draped across his forehead. he manages a small chuckle as he notices you staring, cocking your head to one side.

“you’re fucking unreal. I hope you know that.” he breathes, making your cheeks blossom with heat despite the lewd acts you just performed on him. you know mingyu is spent, but honestly giving him head makes you so fucking horny, you’re worried you might have to rub one out in the shower if he has no energy left.

luckily for you, mingyu can tell exactly you need him (by the way you squirm and squeeze your thighs together), and he won’t ever leave you wanting. especially after some of the best head of his life. he motions you over to him with a lazy wave of his hand. “c’mere baby. wanna feel how wet you are.”

you crawl over to him slowly, situating your clothed, aching pussy straight over his outstretched hand. he hums in delight at the way your arousal immediately coats his fingertips, and teasingly presses them into you. you whimper shakily, practically keeling over as he immediately finds your throbbing clit.

“fuck,” mingyu groans. “fucking drenched. does sucking my dick make you that horny, dirty girl?” he teases, his sleepiness fading away with each passing second as your hips grind into his hand.

“y-yes gyu,” you whine. “need your cock so bad. please. please.” he chuckles at your desperation, pulling his hand away from your cunt and grabbing your hand instead and pulling you to straddle him.

“such a little slut. c’mere baby, ride my cock.”

***

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of his drunken kiss, Bradley doubles down on his efforts to find someone else. You're confused and hurt, but you don't want to risk losing Noah, so you don't say anything, even if it's crushing you inside.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley woke up with sunlight on his face, warming his skin. He must have forgotten to close his bedroom curtains. He started to sit up and noticed that he was for some reason wearing his jeans. And his mouth was so dry.

He groaned, realizing he was on his couch as he finally got upright. And then his head started pounding. "Oh, shit." He must have really overdone it at the Hard Deck. Served him right for letting Nat take him out all night. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was still early, and his phone battery was almost dead. 

When he tried to stand up to check on Noah, he spotted a glass of water, a bottle of Advil, and a note on the side table. 

Hope you have fond memories of last night. Enjoy your hangover. And let me know when you need me to watch Noah again. 

Bradley started to remember more of his night at the bar. Jake and Nat and playing pool and lots of beer. But then he pictured with crystal clarity your perfect face just seconds before he kissed you. He closed his eyes and sank back against the couch cushions, remembering the feel of your perfect skin beneath his fingertips and the way you were immediately kissing him back. 

His cock pulsed when he thought about your fingers tugging his hair. He could practically still feel the sensation along his scalp. 

But then you stopped him. Because he was drunk.

Oh fuck. Bradley had kissed you, pushed you back against the furniture, and told you how fucking pretty you were. When he was drunk.

"Oh my god." He'd be lucky to ever see you again. Noah would be devastated. 

He grabbed your note and carried it to his bedroom with him, passing Noah still asleep in his bed on the way. He set the note on his dresser and read it again and again. Did he have fond memories of the evening? Hell yes, he did. His hands on your waist. Your lips on his. That wildflower scent as his nose rubbed your cheek. He wanted all of it again.

He was also terrified. He needed to get back on track with the dating app and hope you would still be willing to babysit Noah. Because there was no way in hell you would want to date him. He was so much older than you. And you were still a pediatric nursing student. Right about to start your career. And he was looking for something permanent with a woman.

"You're an idiot," he mumbled, stripping off his shirt and changing into a clean one. He plugged his phone into the charger next to his bed. He would need a full battery so he could go through all of his matches and messages and line up some more women to meet.

----------------------

You were waiting around on Sunday, hoping you'd get a text from Bradley. You weren't sure if you should text him or not. The only thing you seemed to be able to do was replay those kisses over and over again in your mind. It had been perfect. His lips were addicting. And odds were he didn't remember any of it. 

Finally by late afternoon, you caved and texted him first, careful not to mention any of the kissing. 

You feeling okay? How's Noah?

Hours went by. You finished your school assignments for the entire upcoming week, you cleaned your house, you went for a walk on the beach. No response. You were feeling lonely and kind of miserable, because Bradley didn't remember kissing you. Or worse, he did remember, but he was trying to forget. 

You had your thumb ready to call Greyson, because you didn't want to be alone any longer today. As you were about to see if he was home, Bradley finally wrote back.

Bradley Bradshaw: I'm fine. Noah is too. Hey, I'm lining up a bunch of dates on the app. Can you send me your availability for the next week or so? And, I'm really sorry about last night. It won't happen again.

You sank down to sit on your steps. It wouldn't be happening again, even though you wanted it to. So he did remember....he was just trying to forget. 

You sucked in a deep breath before you started to cry. Now Bradley had even managed to ruin going to see Greyson for you. But you texted him back anyway, because at least you'd get to spend some time with Noah even if Bradley didn't want you to stick around after he got home anymore. 

So you told him the days you were free, and by Monday morning, he let you know he had a date planned with a woman named Amanda on Thursday night.

Cool. But you didn't want the details anymore. You didn't even want to know that her name was Amanda. You'd get there on time and leave as soon as Bradley got home from here on out. 

Of course the week flew by in a blur since you were kind of dreading Thursday evening. When you were heading to Bradley's house directly from class, you thought about stopping at that coffee shop he seemed to favor, but it was closer to North Island. So you just continued on your way. 

The front door was unlocked. "Hi?" you called out, and Noah was running for you immediately. "Hey, Noah!" You knelt down on the living room floor and scooped him up into your arms and let him hug you. 

"Missed you," he said, releasing you and leading you toward the kitchen. Even though you braced yourself, as soon as you saw Bradley, you remembered what it felt like to be in his arms. 

"Hi," he said with a forced smile. Even the first time he met you, he didn't seem to have to force friendliness. You really hated this.

"Hey," you managed, and then you saw the coffee cup on the counter when he reached for it. He handed it to you, and you couldn't help but smile a little more. "Thanks."

So he was giving you a peace offering. He didn't want you to be upset over the fact that you would never get to feel his lips on you again. 

"You're welcome." You could almost feel that there should have been a Princess at the end of that sentence. Its absence had you gulping down some of the French vanilla coffee before you could start pouting. 

"What do you want to do today, Noah? Crafts, coloring, blocks, a hike?" you asked, pointedly ignoring Bradley as he hesitated before walking out of the room. 

"Blocks, probably," Noah said. "And I'm hungry."

You rummaged through the refrigerator, noting that there was very little food left already. You sighed. "Mac and cheese?" It was really the only option. 

You started to get everything ready when Bradley strolled back into the kitchen looking gorgeous for his date. "Not sure what time I'll be back."

"No rush," you said without really looking at him. "But if you have two credit cards, can you leave me one? I'm going to order you some groceries online."

He was silent for a moment. "You can do that? Online?"

You turned to look at him. "Do you live under a rock?"

He laughed, seemingly in spite of himself, and you did too. "I told you I was old, Princess. Too old for you."

You watched him swallow hard as your tummy swooped at the pet name. When he handed you his Visa card, his warm fingers brushed yours, and you had to turn away as he said goodbye to Noah.

---------------------------

Bradley was too old for you, but Amanda was just two years younger than him. And things were starting off pretty well as Bradley watched her order dinner. She was even prettier than her profile photos had led him to believe; he noticed that was something that never seemed to happen. And she was a kindergarten teacher who loved kids. 

But, she looked a bit like an older version of you. Which was confusing to Bradley, because that was simultaneously making him very sexually attracted to her as well as making him uncomfortable. 

"So, Amanda, what's it like teaching kindergarten?"

She smiled at him over her wine glass. "Here's the answer I should give: it's so much fun, and I just love the kids. Here's the real answer: the kids are exhausting, but somehow they are also sweet, so I go back each day like a sucker."

Bradley chuckled as she sipped her wine. She ordered the same kind of wine he had shared with you. He needed to focus on Amanda. She was funny and pretty and liked kids.

"I have a son. He's three," Bradley told her, wanting to just get that out of the way immediately. 

"What's his name?" she asked with an unwavering smile. 

"Noah." Then she started asking all the right questions, and making all the right jokes. She even laughed when he made fun of himself with a shrug. And when her high heel grazed his calf under the table, he didn't even mind it. 

He hadn't thought about you too much, so of course that was when you texted him. 

Babysitter: Noah and I had an unfortunate runin with the sink while we were doing dishes. Can I borrow a shirt?

"Sorry," he mumbled to Amanda as he typed out a response to you. "It's my babysitter."

"No problem."

But it was a fucking problem for Bradley. Because as soon as he told you where you could find a clean shirt in his dresser drawers, he was imagining you getting changed in his bedroom. He was imagining you wearing a wet shirt. He was imagining you looking at him while removing your wet shirt in his bedroom.

He gritted his teeth and tucked his phone away as his cock twitched. 

Amanda. He was ready to focus on her and the way she kept intentionally bumping his leg. 

"I'm having fun with you, Bradley," she said with a grin.

He nodded and agreed, because compared to anything else he had going for him, she was actually a pretty great option. 

"You free on Saturday?" she asked. "There's a film festival in Balboa Park we could hit up."

And just like that, he had a second date.

And then twenty minutes later, Amanda was kissing him next to her burgundy car. Bradley felt her fingernails scraping at the back of his neck, and it felt good. He let his hand rest at her waist, and that felt good, too. Just as Amanda's lips parted so he could taste her, Bradley pulled back a little bit. 

"I'll meet you there on Saturday," he rasped, and his eyes drifted closed as she kissed his mustache. 

"Night, Bradley," she said, slipping into her car and pulling away.

He was in no rush to get home now. He didn't even want to look at you all curled up on his couch with your Skittles and your textbooks. But he needed to get back so you could leave for the night. You had class in the morning. 

When he parked the Bronco in the driveway, he sat there for a few minutes. He couldn't date you. There was no way. Noah was already way to attached for him to even consider intentionally fucking things up with the babysitter. And you were too young. He'd just head inside and send you on your way until Saturday night. 

But when he unlocked the front door and found you asleep on the couch wearing his well worn UVA sweatshirt, his heart started pounding, and he could barely remember the woman he just had dinner with. You looked impossibly young and too fucking sweet. The fabric was pushed up enough that he could see a few inches of skin and your belly button. He could see a bit of lace peeking out above your leggings, and he was aching to kiss you there.

He turned and went directly to the kitchen to catch his breath. But you had cleaned the entire room so it was spotless. The refrigerator was covered in Noah's artwork, and when he opened it up, it was filled with the groceries you had ordered for him.

Bradley closed the door and let his head tip back. He selfishly didn't want to wake you up. He wanted you to sleep at his house tonight. He wanted to see what you looked like first thing in the morning. So he went to check on Noah and change into his pajama pants before returning to see you were still exactly where he had left you. 

Your steady breathing and softly parted lips were mesmerizing, and Bradley had to turn away a few times; the sight of you in his shirt was too much. Finally he knelt down next to you. 

"Princess?" he asked softly, but you didn't stir. "Princess, wake up." Still nothing. It was almost midnight now. Bradley gently slipped his hands and forearms between your body and the cushions, and he slowly scooped you up into his arms. 

"Mmmm," you moaned, and your lips made contact with his bare shoulder in a brief kiss before you stilled again. He held you close to his body and you curled up against him, never waking as he walked to his bedroom and gently set you on his bed. 

Bradley tucked you in, pulling the bedding up to your shoulders and letting his fingers brush your neck. Then without hesitation, he bent and placed a kiss to your forehead before shutting off the lamp and leaving the room. 

He went to brush his teeth, hoping he would be able to relax enough to fall asleep on the couch, alone. But you'd spent time in here too, because the room was clean now. New towels were hanging up, and everything was lined up on the vanity with perfect precision. Bradley started to violently brush his teeth, and that's when he saw your tee shirt hanging up near the shower curtain. Along with a sheer black lace bra. 

He reached out to run his fingers along the straps before taking the lace between two fingers. He groaned, his toothbrush hanging precariously out of his mouth as he pulled his hand away and spit his toothpaste into the sink. 

Without a backwards glance, he made his way to the living room couch and tried like hell to fall asleep on the cushions that smelled like your wildflower scent. 

---------------------------

You woke up with the softest fabric brushing your cheek, and you felt snuggly and warm. You wondered what time it was, and as soon as you moved, you realized you weren't in your own bed.

You sat up quickly, eyes wide, breaths coming out ragged. But this room smelled familiar, and it felt safe. It smelled like Bradley. You were in his bed. But you were alone.

Then you caught sight of your purple crown hanging from one of the bedposts, and your tummy swooped. You crawled across the bedding to run your fingers along the crown before climbing out of Bradley's bed. 

Hadn't you fallen asleep on the couch in the living room? You remembered getting tired and dozing off, no matter how hard you had been trying to stay awake. 

You buried your nose in the scent of Bradley's sweatshirt as you walked quietly down the hallway and peeked into Noah's room. He was still sound asleep, looking as angelic as always. Then you walked into the living room where the couch was empty with a blanket tossed halfway on the floor. 

You knew Bradley was in the kitchen before you heard him messing with the coffee maker, and when you peeked in, you almost moaned out loud. He was turned away from you, hair a wavy mess, and all of the toned muscles of his back and shoulders were on display.

"Morning," you said softly, and he spun to face you. There was nothing you could do except stare. Everything you saw above his low slung lounge pants had you almost giddily laughing. Toned abs, sparse chest hair, collar bones that you wanted to lick, and a scarred neck. 

"Morning, Princess." Oh shit! His voice was so rough. It sounded like sex, and you clenched around nothing as you bit hard on your lip. "I'm trying to make you a latte, but only Nat knows the secret inner workings of this machine."

You made your way a little closer and said, "Regular coffee is okay." But your voice was shaky, and Bradley was examining your face now. 

"Alright, get out the creamer, Princess."

You did as you were told, your thoughts stumbling over having a normal, domestic morning with Bradley and Noah in this house. Your breath caught as you turned to look at him again, and it felt like the awkward, drunken kisses were a thing of the past as Bradley measured out the coffee. 

"You moved me to your bed," you whispered, and he nodded at you. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Bradley was blushing and looking down at his hands. "You looked too comfortable. It felt like a crime to wake you up."

You grinned. "Can't have you committing any crimes. But you could have left me on the couch."

You wanted to add that he could have joined you in his bed, but you weren't feeling that bold. You didn't even know how his date had gone, but you knew he had slept here alone, on the couch.

He shook his head, the pink color starting to fade from his cheeks. "That would have been unfit for a Princess."

Bradley poured two mugs of coffee, and you added French vanilla creamer to each of them. Then he handed you the mug that said Kiss me, I'm an aviator and you blew on the steam. You forced the words out as he looked down at you. "How was your date?"

You watched as Bradley's brow creased, as if he had somehow forgotten he was even on a date. You were hoping to hear him say it went poorly, and that she didn't eat salad dressing, but instead his words made your heart stop. 

"I'm going on a second date with her on Saturday."

"Oh." Your lungs deflated, and your shoulders slumped. "I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah...." he grunted, but he didn't look too happy. 

And then Noah came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking between the two of you like he wasn't sure who to hug first. Bradley scooped him up in a hug, but soon he was reaching for you, too. 

"Will you make me scrambled eggs?" he asked as you hugged him. You really needed to leave for class, and you really wanted to get away from Bradley, but of course you agreed to whatever Noah wanted. 

So you made eggs and sausage for the boys while you finished your coffee, Bradley's eyes on you the whole time. 

Then you excused yourself to freshen up in the bathroom, hastily dressing in your bra and shirt from yesterday, before folding up Bradley's soft sweatshirt and leaving it on his bed. You thought about ripping the crown down and throwing it away, but instead you carefully placed it on top of his sweatshirt before turning on your heel. 

You contemplated leaving without saying goodbye, but then you'd be thinking about Noah's little face all day. You simply couldn't let yourself be that bitchy. So you gave him a little hug as he finished his eggs. 

And when you turned toward Bradley, he asked, "So you can come on Saturday evening? Sit with Noah while I'm out with Amanda again?"

You wanted to laugh in his face and tell him no, but instead you nodded before you grabbed your things and ran out the door. 

------------------------------

He needed a little help remembering, but I don't think he could fully regret kissing her.... but poor Princess! The next part will be 18+!!!!! You have been warned! Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

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[wittlesissyb4by]

Smooches (Custom Caption)

“Thank you so much for coming to betasit!” Your wife smiled as Molly entered. 

Molly had a superior air about her as she surveyed the room, looking at everything in your pathetic little nursery like it was tacky and overdone, but when her eyes got to you, sitting on the floor in your little dress and diaper, that’s when her nose really turned up. 

“What can I say,” Molly said, hardly sparing you an ounce of attention, “it’s fun to put little losers in their place!”

Your wife smiled like she was the happiest woman on earth. “Well i’ll be gone until late in the night, so you are free to use and abuse him however you see fit! He has a bottle in the fridge, a fresh jar of pureed prunes in the pantry, and plenty of snacks if he gets hungry. If he gets fussy or misbehaves, please do not hesitate to spank him!”

Molly looked at you with a malicious smirk, “oh i think he’ll be getting more than a few spankings whether he’s good or not!!”

Both the girls laughed, causing you to tremble on the floor so hard that your diaper crinkled. You couldn’t help but fold in front of Alpha women. Their dominant superiority eclipsing your pathetic, puny excuse for manhood. 

Molly crouched down on her haunches in front of you, making her already tight gym pants squeeze and press in ways that made your legs clench. You always had the biggest fetish for gym leggings. Your wife knew it, and apparently Molly knew it too. 

Her eyes bore into you, making you squirm under her gaze, she lifted your chin so that you were forced to look at her. 

“You are a loser! Do you understand, little bitch? I mean, look at you…” she gestured with her hands open at the display of a diapered dork in a dress quivering right in front of her. “I bet you’ve already pissed your little pampers, haven’t you?”

“N-no!” You tried to say, but her hands were already lifting your skirt, pressing the padding between your legs. It was warm and plump. But…but you were dry before! When did you even do it? You were so shook by their presence that you must have—

“Oh my goodness!!” Molly exclaimed, clapping her hand to her face to cover her laughing lips. Her other hand was tugging at your waistband so she could get a peek of what was inside your diaper. “It’s so tinyy!!”

Well that wasn’t really fair. It was the cage that made it look so small. When it was out and free it could get to almost 2 inches long!! But it had been months since that last happened…

“And look how leaky he is!!” Molly giggled to your wife, as if she didn’t already know. “Good thing wittle miss pottypants has her pampers on to catch all her stickies!!”

Your face flushed a deeper pink than your dress while Molly scoffed at your shame, standing back up to speak to your wife. “It’s no wonder you found a real man to fuck!”

Your wife simply shrugged, “now you know what i’ve been dealing with for so long. Luckily Michael is ten times the man my huggie hubby will ever be! I added some of his ‘protein’ to the cuck’s bottles, maybe that’ll make my pathetic pamper pisser grow a pair…but I doubt it!”

Both girls cackled at your pitiful torment. Your wife, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, stepped forward. “Well…i better get going! Don’t want to keep him waiting!” She pivoted on her heel and jutted out her perfectly toned, voluptuous ass in front of your face, tapping a finger to her perky, springy cheek. 

You knew what that meant. You looked to Molly for help or for a lack of judgement, but neither came, her arms were crossed, she knew exactly what you were going to do and how pathetic you were for doing it. 

Sighing, you leaned forward, planting a kiss onto the soft silk of your wife’s asscheek. Once, twice, and then one on the other. 

Your wife smiled, delving in her superiority while you clenched your legs and quivered. 

“What is he doing?” Molly asked. 

“Trying to control himself.” She said, “he can’t help it, it drives him crazy. Every now and then i’ll pull my pants down just enough so he can get to kiss my bare ass, but only if he’s super good. He never gets to see me naked though, not anymore. That is all for Michael!”

Molly nodded as if she just said the most obvious thing ever. “Well you go have fun! Don’t worry about your little baby bitch husband! I’ll take great care of him!!”

Your wife smiled, gathered her things, said her goodbyes to you and Molly, and left through the door, leaving you with a 25 year old hotass babysitter with a very sadistic look in her eye. 

She bent over, hands to her knees, purring like a vixen with her prey caught in a trap. “Ohhh i’m going to have sooo much fun with you!” She pinched your cheeks, hard enough to make you whimper, shaking them back and forth. “You’re gonna be my little baby bitch for the rest of the night. I’ve got you alll to myself! You’re gonna waddle and crawl around in your filthy fucking pampers while I video you goo goo ga ga-ing for all my friends to see! I’m gonna strap you to your ridiculous highchair and force feed you mushy meals until you’re stuffed and have to use your Daddy’s milkies to wash it all down while wallowing in your own filth! You’re going to be playing in your playpen with a poopy diaper around your waist, wishing you could get the chance to kiss my pretty feet!”

She bent even closer, lowering her voice so as to emphasize her next point: “You’re mine now, do you understand me? Just because you have to be strapped to your crib by 7 doesn’t mean I can’t find plenty of ways to degrade and humiliate you until then!!”

That got you whimpering and shivering in fear. 

She laughed at your feeblish sniffles, straightening up to triumphantly tower over you. “So you like gym pants, huh?” She grinned, turning around to show you her blue, skin-tight leggings. She brought them inches from your face, so close you could still smell her sweat from her workout. 

“Kiss.” She commanded, jutting her butt out, “and keep kissing until you poop your stupid pamper! Then I'm going to make you rub your filth all over yourself before babysitter Molly has her fun with you!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a custom caption created for one of my love subs on SubStar. If you'd like one of your very own, consider joining tiers Silver or higher!

[nanamis-bigtie]

heat

↬ kusakabe atsuya & afab reader

cw: no gendered pronouns, no detailed body descriptions for reader, reader has a vagina (addressed anatomy), pwp with a sprinkle of feelings, coworkers with benefits, hidden feelings, kusakabe is hairy (good for him), outdoor sex (with a sprinkle of exhibitionism), oral sex (reader receiving), piv sex, creampie (reader is on pills) word count: 5.2k summary: heatwave, repressed feelings, longer break from sex - and a big hand against the back of your neck. what can do wrong? a/n: happy server exchange @clumsyraccoon (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ i feel i strayed a little from the prompts you gave for it, i have to shamefully admit that this text slipped out of my control, just did what it wanted to. and it wanted to be horny i hope you will enjoy it! ( ◕▿◕ )

For the umpteenth time, it has started with his hand against the back of your neck.

Your senses are blunt from the heatwave and fatigue, you haven't sensed his presence, even though he had to linger behind your back for a while before he made up his mind and approached. He could, if he wanted to, stalk like a ghost cat, but he has always respected you enough to not do that to you, you're sure of that. Your absent-mindedness is yours and your only fault, but you don't even have power nor time left for blaming yourself for it.

Anyone but maybe Gojo Satoru would be wooly-minded by the given conditions.

The heat and humidity stuck to your skin as soon as you left your apartment early in the morning, stayed with you throughout your job, bothered you in the assistant's car even after you changed into a fresh shirt. They followed you to the Jujutsu Tech Facility, forced you to give the maintenance buildings a wide berth, having you settle in the shaded area by the outdoor training grounds. It was still hot there but at least bearable, and with a bottle of cold barley tea you snatched from a vending machine on the way, you could finally lower your guard and let the afternoon numbness swallow you whole.

You had nothing to do for the rest of the day, after all. Excluding a possibility of an urgent call, your schedule contained only a commute home, a quick grocery run, and a blessed shower and AC at your little, cozy place. The initial plan even called for staying here, but the assistant who had picked you up promised he'd drop you at the train station after he'd be done with the papers, so you gratefully accepted the favor. Jujutsu Tech was like a second home to all sorcerers, but it couldn't provide you the intimacy of your own home.

It felt almost like it though, for the moment between parting your ways with the assistant and Kusakabe's hand gently scooping the back of your neck. It was empty and silent, and only the steady buzzing of the vending machine hidden behind the nearest nook reminded you that you were in a public space. You're paying the price now for pushing it behind the wall of consciousness; your heart is fluttering like a startled bird, producing even more warmth and spreading it all over your body, in no time dragging you back to the sweaty and overheated state you've barely managed to escape.

You know it's him even before he sits on his haunches by your side, and announces himself with that characteristic, overdone groan that would rather suit an older, tired man. You know the weight and feel of his hand against your neck in rote. You know the net of scars and calluses left by the hilt of his sword. You know the dry warmth of his palm, as it refuses to absorb any moisture, even against the gallons of hand cream he borrowed from you.

It's been...long, six months at the very least. And you still know.

"Hey." A lollipop stick clatters at the corner of Kusakabe's lips as he speaks. "Haven't seen you around for a while."

All the "Was busy", "I needed space" and "I had a few long missions away from Tokyo" wouldn't be lies or excuses but they all taste equally pathetic on your tongue when you try to speak, so you let the screaming cicadas fill the silence in your place.

"You could at least text me or something, damn it." And he's good at reading meaningful silence, too. "People die too easily in this job."

"Yeah, should have," you mutter, your throat painfully tense. You're more taken aback than nervous but the heat exhaustion takes its toll even here. A hearty sip of tea brings a temporal relief, but it prolongs the silence to its awkward limits. "I'm sorry."

You feel him staring but you can't bring yourself—not yet—to return the favor. Instead, you wipe the beading moisture off the bottle and use it to cool your sweaty forehead down. Your hand trembles on the way and you can't blame that on the heatwave anymore. You're nervous—and what's worse, you're nervous because you're starved and caught red-handed on it. It's always his hand against the back of your neck, no matter when and why and for how long it has been since the last time he used it against you.

Six months... Enough time to forget, if only you wanted to, enough time to find another pair of arms to wrap around your middle and pull you close. But you didn't.

"You better be now apologizing for that." Kusakabe's hand appears in the range of your vision now and taps at your bottle. "It was the last one."

"I'm...sorry?" You repeat yourself, this time as thrown as amused.

"You left me with coke and energy drinks and sparkly soda for teenage girls. No one here thinks about us, dinosaurs. They could at least spare us canned coffee." He leans to your side as he fishes a wallet out of the back pocket of his pants. Coins clatter around his fingers as he counts under his breath. "And do something with those archaic machines that don't accept cards. Can you lend me 200 yen?"

Now it's your turn to dig in your pockets. You offer him money on open palm, still feeling uneasy at the thought of looking straight at him; the contact is short when he collects it but it's enough to have the same familiar shiver running under your skin. Six long months of denial are crushed right in front of you with two brushes that barely can be called touch. How pathetic of you, how pathetic of this summer for lowering your guard and tearing your resolve into shreds.

"For the amount of sugar you consume, does it really matter if you add one coke to the count?" You earn some space when he walks away for his drink, so you finally manage to grab your spirit and yank it back to its place. You get up and dust your pants off as coins rustle in the machine behind your back. A can falls with a loud thud, drink furiously sizzles as soon as it's cracked open, Kusakabe curses, sipping the turbulent drink straight from his fingers.

"Don't want diabetes to kill me before curses do." Finally, he marches into your field of vision. "Or to kill me right after I retire. That would be a waste of a perfect plan."

Even through the peak of the heatwave he's wearing trousers and shirt. At least the latter has short sleeves and is on the finer side, almost transparent thanks to its white color. It catches you off-guard when you spot a shadow underneath; it's only logical a thin white shirt would let the body hair stand out but... Kusakabe isn't hairy. Or so you always thought. And given the number of times you fucked has crossed fifty, you've been pretty confident in your knowledge about his body.

"What?" He follows your gaze, straightens the shirt with a free hand. "I got coke on me?"

"No, but your chest—" You weigh words on your tongue. It feels...inappropriate to ask so straight forward. It feels stupid in the first place, it's obvious he just must have been shaving it all off and all this time you just missed the natural windows.

"I'm not getting it all off when it's so hot." He answers the never asked question. "Tried once, I thought I was gonna peel my skin off."

Trying to avoid staring at all costs before, you just can't avert your eyes now. Kusakabe has scraped the barely scarred over wounds and rubbed salt into them with that shameless presentation. Your senses and needs are howling for an update, not only due to six months long break but in majority because his natural body and all the promising combinations your imagination is already pushing into the right places of your mind. How would it be to feel those familiar muscles when they're covered by hair? At the first glance it seems thick and soft, and you're dying for a sample, if only from stealing an accidental touch of his forearm, now as fuzzy as his torso.

You know he wouldn't mind being touched, not after all those hours spent in each other’s embrace. But you don't want him to get a wrong idea, not when you're...not sure what you want from this accidental meeting. You fell out of contact at the behest of yourself, when your comfortable workplace fuck-buddies situationship started gaining colors and drowning in the maze of complicated feelings. The break has just proven itself to be ineffective, just sharpening the problems you tried so hard to avoid.

You need space, you need time. You don't want them. You want him.

Kusakabe has always been good at reading what you couldn't put into words. He finishes his drink and gives you one last dose of space for making up your mind before he approaches and brushes invisible dust off the nape of your neck. Harsh shiver betrays your thoughts and intentions, not the first time on the bumpy road of your relationship, always an opening for question and almost certain promise of consent.

"Are you free now? Or later, tonight?" He throws casually, not even looking at you, as if it could take the weight off your shoulders. You're already feeling a different kind of heat creeping on you, and you know how it is going to influence your decisions.

"Depends? I don't want to stray around the city for a free love hotel."

"I meant something like... a picnic?" That catches you off-guard. "A nice and calm place. Hopefully cooler than here."

There's something so immature and rushed about the whole venture. Car "borrowed" from the facility, a blanket stolen from one of the guest rooms, ramune and sandwiches bought in the neighborhood konbini. It wouldn't be the first time you sneak out for an outdoor sex but the first you remember when the both of you at least try to pretend you have a different goal than catching up for those few months. 

The stiff and awkward atmosphere eased in the car, ac and music filling the silence when needed lifted your mood. You even started bickering, as if the "break up" never happened, and you were just friends or lovers on the way for a spontaneous picnic. You were ready to play this role, as long as it kept the ball rolling and led you to a promising direction. Even if you still weren't sure how exactly you want to name it.

Kusakabe drove you to one of his fishing spots, a secluded and somewhat cozy glade by the bank of a river, conveniently located in the dead telecommunication spot, free of service and thus: any possible emergency calls.

"I like it here," you sit the closest to the water possible, nibbling on your sandwich. It was better in the car, but the closeness of the river still helps with the temperature. On the other hand, it's the fatal blow for your heatwave excuse. Whatever reaction your body and mind pull on you now, you can blame it only on yourself.

You're chatting but the words are slipping past you. Instead, there's the timbre of his voice and closeness and chest hair poking out the casually unbuttoned top of his shirt. Kusakabe doesn't try to keep any distance, casually sprawled by your side, his head inches from resting in your lap. The urge to play with his hair or to pull him close is strong. The urge to run fingers through the fur on his torso is even stronger.

"You hated coke but you're chugging ramune as if there was no tomorrow," you tease when he finishes with his stash and steals one of yours.

Kusakabe pops the glass ball in, swirls it playfully before he takes a hearty sip, "Coke tastes like diabetes and disappointment. Ramune has flavor."

You finish yours too and gather the cool moisture off the bottle. Stupid impulse, the teenage atmosphere has rubbed on you in the weirdest way possible: you drag a cold hand against the back of his neck. He jerks up, surprised, but the groan he lets out has nothing to do with a protest against unpleasant sensation: it's too sharp and too feral and heads straight to the part of your mind responsible for the most stupid and horny of your decisions.

One moment your lips are pressed to the bottle neck, the other he turns to you and puts his hand at the back of your neck again, guiding you closer, until you meet mid-breath and clash against each other in the accompaniment of glass thudding against the blanket. He's harsh and insatiable, full of the sharp and sweet flavor of fruity ramune. Having you trapped between his muscular arms, he's supporting your melting into submissiveness body and feeling you through your clothes all at the same time. Your head spinning, lungs short of air, you paw at him with the same eagerness. His chest muscles tense under your ministrations, thick hair standing out under his shirt with ease and soon brushing against your palms as you finally give in to your fantasies and force your way in. Buttons almost sputter underneath your fingers, some rip out for sure, but you don't care; if only you had enough power to rip it to shreds, you would end the poor shirt's life right here and now.

"Holy shit..." You mutter between desperate drafts for air. His torso looks even better than you imagined from the teasing shadow, dark hair spills from his pecs into a thick line leading down, to his pants, and gradually thickening.

Kusakabe follows your hungry gaze, swallows audibly, perplexed, "And here I worried you might hate it—"

"Don't ever shave it again, do you hear me?"

You fumble on the blanket, trying to find the best position and peel yourselves off sweat-drenched clothes. Kusakabe's shirt and belt are first to go but soon after he pushes your hands out of the way and positions himself between your legs.

"What if somebody sees us—" There's a gleam of sanity when he gets rid of your pants and pulls your underwear down to your knees, but Kusakabe only scoffs and yanks it harder, almost ripping the frail garment at your ankles.

"I don't care." He smashes lips against yours again, rough, and feral, in no time shoving all your scruples out of your mind.

When he has a certain goal in front of him, nothing can possibly stop Kusakabe—and his lone mission now is to sate his hunger for you. You barely recognize him through groans and whimpers, once feral, once pathetic, when he kisses, licks, and gnaws on your chest. He sucks on your nipples right to the painful limit, leaves them wet and sensitive for his calloused fingers and travels further down, sinking teeth into the soft skin of your tum. He would leave harsh, dark hickeys on his way if he hadn't broken the contact earlier to moan and rush towards another spot, closer and closer to your aching cunt.

"I don't care," he repeats, his voice almost breaking. He looks up at you with eyes so dark and heavy that cold shiver runs under your heated skin. You instinctively close your legs, Kusakabe pries them open with ease and throws them over his wide shoulders, big, strong hands pulling you right into his face. He groans even before he gets the first taste, he even lingers before going straight for it, be it for the views or scent. But eventually he finds his way and buries himself deep between your folds, as if your juices were the only nectar able to sate his thirst amidst this heatwave.

Six long months away from his divine head game. What a fool and masochist you were, running away from the bliss he got you addicted to. Not your hands, none of the toys you purchased to replace him, nothing could compare to how madly he eats you out. It's not just his mouth, he rubs his whole face against you, his nose time and again grazing your clit. He moans when buried in your hole, takes deep breaths of your scent whenever he pulls away for more air, teases the most sensitive crevices of your sex with the strong, nimble tip of his tongue. In no time he has you leaking; obscene, sloshing sounds replace the moans you desperately try to hide behind your hand.

"Hey. Stop that." Kusakabe yanks your hips up, looks up at you over your mound, his face wet and messy with your juices. "Lemme hear you. Told ya I don't care if anyone catches us."

He doesn't wait for your answer, he's already back to reaching his goal, determined to forcefully drag your sweet sounds out of you, if he has to. But you follow his advice, on the verge of suffocating yourself against what your body naturally craves. You could swear he's smirked against your folds when you finally snap and sing for him, with the whole capacity your lungs have.

"F-fuck, Atsuya—" Your eyes almost roll back when he closes lips around your clit and sucks on it. Hand previously plastered to your mouth grabs a fistful of his hair, pulls him closer until he nearly has no place left to breathe. The groan of appreciation vibrates through your sex and alone almost has you flying; if he hasn't yanked his head away for air, you surely would come all over him right there.

"I'm not gonna stop after that." Kusakabe bites at your thigh as he humps the blanket, three sharp and desperate spasms of hips. "No matter how many times you'll come from my mouth, I'm not gonna stop. Fuck— I waited too long. Beg me, curse me, do whatever you want, I'm not going to stop until you cum around my cock."

Keeping you open with his wide frame, he sneaks one of his hands between your legs, traces your wet, tortured lips before he slides two fingers in.

"So tight..." His eyes beam with awe and face reddens but his hold on you doesn't falter, he keeps you in place almost forcefully when you try to buck your hips for more stretching and friction. " Shit, you haven't had anyone all this time?"

"Only... Only a t-toy..." Several toys, even, none of them able to sate your needs.

"A toy? When could you have me any time you wanted?" He scoffs and looks away from your face to focus on your cunt again. Scissoring his fingers, he stretches you a little more, until he's certain he can fit a third one. "Silly bunny..."

Kusakabe hasn't forgotten the map of your body. He knows what he's looking for and aims for it with surgical precision. Before the strongest so far wave of pleasure washes over you, you catch an almost mean smirk on his flushed face at the sight of the expected reaction. He lets your hips rest flat on the blanket so he can hold on them better and pulls you towards his mouth again. With fingers mercilessly sparking your nerves from the inside, he sucks on your clit with fervor, with little to no care of your writhing and spasming in his arms.

You try to say his name, instead your voice breaks and turns into a feral whine. The sensation is so intense it's almost too much, he's turned you into a tense knot, one that's threatening to explode at the slightest touch and yet—is being relentlessly teased. The last coherent thought left your mind a while ago, now your head is full of him—of him and the pleasure he gives you relentlessly, as if catching up for all the lost months at once.

"—ya..." You try calling him again. Orgasm catches you midst exhale, washes over you gentler than anticipated but still strong enough to have your thighs spasm over his shoulders, unable to close around his head. Kusakabe doesn't let it fade, prolonging the sweet sensation with gentler but all the same precise teasing, until your writhing grows sharper and your mewls carry the shade of uncomfortable overstimulation.

Kusakabe lets your legs rest, then lies comfortably between them, head against your thigh, close to the groin. His heavy, hot breath grazes your sensitive pussy, soothing and teasing; with eyes half-closed you watch his shoulders and back heave. He's warm, sweaty and heavy, and mere minutes after a long orgasm you're already longing the strain in your legs, hips and cunt he's always been giving you with his aggressive pounding.

You two just couldn't take it easy when your bodies clashed. Couldn't through hasty love hotel moments, sneaked in between missions. Couldn't during weekends at yours or his place when you almost didn't leave the bed. Couldn't in the back alleys behind night clubs and izakayas, couldn't in the car parked on the side of an empty road, couldn't in the dusty and forgotten rooms of Jujutsu Tech Facility. His hand at the back of your neck was like a curse, draining you both off sanity and any other emotions than blind lust.

You rest yours against his now, at first shyly tracing beads of sweat pearling right under his hairline, then allowing yourself to put a distinctive pressure to your touch. Kusakabe answers you with a content groan, reciprocates the caress against the inner side of your thigh, his fingertips mindlessly tracing the mark his teeth left.

"This is not over," he warns, but the timbre of his voice is softer than the words he chose.

"Good."

He lifts himself on elbows, then sits up and takes care of his pants. You could help—or at least do something with the disarray you left after the first, chaotic clash—but you just watch him, as lazy as excited. You like the way his chest is still heaving hard after eating you out relentlessly for so long, like the impatient trembling of his big, hairy hands, and a distinctive wet spot on the front of his boxers. You may be the one on your back, your thoughts still blurry after orgasm, but desperation is his domain now—and you can't help but bask in it. You love being wanted like this, on the verge of madness, having him equally feral and pathetic.

"You're still on—" Kusakabe reaches for his wallet, starts pulling a condom out of it, grins when you confirm you're protected and taps it back in its place. Wallet is thrown to the side, soon followed by the underwear, and your lover already advances on you again, fitting suit between your open and welcoming legs.

He slowly runs hands up them, feeling your moist skin, the last tender touch before madness overpowers him again. You're offhandedly pulled closer, your ass resting against his strong, hairy thighs. His hard and throbbing cock rests against your cunt and Kusakabe closes his eyes as he steals a few, shallow thrusts along your slit. You mewl and jerk your hips up when he teases your overly sensitive clit, just to have his hands clasp on your hips almost painfully; his fingers dig dip in your skin, surely bruising it. His chest heaves heavier, sweat dripping down the sides of his face, and his cock twitches even harder, hard enough to slightly bob over your soon-to-be union.

"Give me a moment," he whispers, words shaking, and holds on your hips even tighter. Muscles of his jaw tense, he inhales through clenched teeth, struggling against the sensation that's about to tear him into shreds. "Sorry if I— Too early— Fuck, I need you so bad..."

Kusakabe risks another shallow thrust, then finally re-positions himself and guides his cock directly at your slick. You do your best to not budge for even an inch, the hardest battle you fought for a while with feral need blowing you apart as soon as you feel his tip probing at your entrance. But you persevere with it, for him and for the pleasure awaiting once he nestles himself inside and finds the right rhythm.

"Tight..." Kusakabe's voice breaks on the verge of a whine, he shifts on his heels, retracts himself almost all the way out before pushing again, under a better angle. It takes him a few tries and stops before he finally bottoms out and stills, eyes closed so desperately that his eyelids twitch.

You're doing no better, fighting for breath, overwhelmed by him, merciless heat and the fire burning your groin, as sensitive as starved for more. You're both at the limit, hypnotized by each other’s presence. Kusakabe's figure stands against the blue sky, his hairy torso and arms glistens with sweat, its beads trailing down toned, tense muscles, begging to be trailed, begging to be ignored under a threat of exploding as soon as you touch or kiss them. You clench both hands on the blanket underneath, fighting the urge, praying he notices and spares you the ordeal. He only groans when your cunt flutters around him, risks a very slow but deep thrust.

And finally, as if sensing the sparks he's caused by grazing you with his pubic hair, something clicks in Kusakabe and in seconds he's turned from pathetic and overwhelmed into a beast. He yanks your legs up, ankles against his shoulders, and presses forwards until he meets resistance—and keeping you in place with his weight only, he pounds into you relentlessly, fast, rough, desperate.

With knees right by your chest, his cock drilling you deep, you can't do much but mewling his name. You try to hold on his back, then hips, but your hands just slip off sweaty skin; you hold on to the blanket instead, as if it could ease the spasms in your legs and delicious yet overwhelming fire in your pussy. He goes right for the point he tortured before, rather unawares now, in this feral haze, but as effectively as when he was being precise and having you spasm under him even harder than before. Apologizing for a possibility of coming too early? You wouldn't even notice it now, your mind gone in seconds, filled with the white noise of immense pleasure and the familiar feel of a tight, almost painful, knot forming in your abdomen. Squeezed and roughed and pounded you're carried on raging waves of ecstasy, constantly at the edge of orgasm but not quite there, not until he re-adjusts the slippery grasp and slams his fat tip right at the most sensitive spot.

When you cream around his cock, Kusakabe's moves stutter, he pulls you closer, arms sneaking under your back, and pushes his head at the crook of your neck. He whines, almost cries, stumbles over his tongue as he tries to speak what you wouldn't decipher amidst this haze. For you, it's just the strained, guttural timbre of his voice, heavy and hot breath against your sweaty neck, teeth nipping your skin—and his throbbing dick, nestled deep, with no energy to thrust fast anymore.

"I'm... gonna—" Kusakabe tries to warn but you find some power to sink nails in his ass and pull him closer as soon as you feel him trying to slip out—so he caves in, pressing your legs for the last time before he cums.

He lets your legs fall by his sides and lies flat on top of you, lifeless but the heavy, sobbing breath and weak, almost automatic, spasms of his hips. You have no power—nor desire—to have him roll off you, even if the heat between your sweaty bodies is unbearable and you barely have any air for yourself. Not until this moment of bliss you realized how much you missed this, missed him and the union of your bodies and minds. When you bring yourself to touch, then trace his back, your touch is almost apologetic, for the unfair treatment and months of enforced fasting, even though you don't know if he remained without a single lay like you. 

Kusakabe twitches under your fingertips, sensitive and ticklish, finally decides to break the status quo and frees you of his weight. He kisses your forehead when you mewl in protest, slips out of you, and falls to his side. He's still close but doesn't pull you into him, rightfully deciding you both have enough heat. You would need to cover yourselves from the sun too but the thought of putting anything on all this mess and sweat is awful in mutual agreement. You just rest on your sides, gazing at each other tenderly, and let the shy gust of wind cool you down.

"Don't you ever run away from me again." Kusakabe finally breathes out, as if shaking a great weight off his chest, and finds your lips with a sweet and weak yet possessive kiss.

You want to answer anything, even the simplest "I'm sorry", but nothing that comes to your mind feels right and acceptable for the gamut of feelings swirling around in your chest. He reads what's needed from your eyes, brushes wet strands of your hair off your forehead, then reaches behind you to fish tissues out of the piles of your clothes.

"Maybe we should have gone to that damned hotel," he grumbles as he patiently wipes the wet parts of you, then cleans the mess between your legs. "I could kill for a shower. I must smell like a goat."

"You smell good." You don't lie for the sake of a good vibe. You do mean it. Something about his natural musk just...feels right and comforting. It suits him, suits your naked bodies sprawled by the bank of the river, all natural and free.

"So do you." Kusakabe tosses dirty tissues away, then scoots closer, takes a deep whiff of your scent from your neck, before he peppers a line of soft kisses from it to your lips. "But still. Shower."

You dress yourselves up deliberately, gather your trash, finish your sandwiches and ramune. You linger with getting up, stretched on the blanket with eyes half-closed, face turned towards the river.

"I dread sitting in a stolen car now." You're not quite sure if you mean sweat and your mixed comes—or soreness already creeping up on your groin and overworked thighs.

"First: not stolen. Borrowed. Second, I'll get it cleaned." Kusakabe frowns and reconsiders. "Tomorrow."

You chuckle and scoot to the side so he can lie beside you again. He closes his hand around yours, the first time ever he does so. You tense, expecting the same surge of lust that comes whenever he touches your neck—but the warm feelings that wash over you have nothing to do with the feral needs.

"Your place or mine?" You whisper your confession of love when he brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it tenderly.

"Yours." Kusakabe answers with his, short on breath. "You have AC."

[fuck-customers]

reminiscing on last year’s Halloween when we had a million sorority morons begging us to help them find a last minute costume but they had ZERO knowledge on anything horror related so it was a fucking nightmare. This one girl really took the cake though.. this is how the convo with her went..

Me: You know what? Since you’re blonde I think Midsommar would suit you. We have the dress, and we still have loads of flower crowns.

👱🏻‍♀️: What is that?

Me: What?

👱🏻‍♀️: miss summer..what’s that?

Me: Oh it’s the scary movie about the Swedish cult with Florence Pugh

👱🏻‍♀️: Uh.. I don’t know.. do you have something else?

Me: Maybe you can do bride of Chucky but instead of wearing a dress you can do her corset outfit with the feather boa.

👱🏻‍♀️: Ugh I mean.. it would probably look hot and all but everyone is already wearing corsets with their costumes this year

Me: Ok..are you down to be Carrie? I don’t know I’m running out of blonde scary movie characters.

👱🏻‍♀️: I just feel like that’s kind of overdone and I don’t wanna wear fake blood it’s sticky and gross

Me: oh no all of these have dried fake blood. It doesn’t smell or rub off it’s totally dry.

👱🏻‍♀️: Uh… I mean the blood fine then I guess but I just don’t wanna be Carrie.

Me: *looks through rack* What if you wore this bloody bridal dress with a veil and then get a ninja sword from the accessories and just tell people you’re the bride from Kill Bill?

👱🏻‍♀️: *sighs* … I don’t know… I don’t know what I’m gonna do *sighs*

Me: Do you want a minute to think it over and look at the options?

👱🏻‍♀️: No I need to pick something the party is tonight and I need to look cute please help me before I lose my mind

Me: What if you just went for something really easy? if you have a white turtle neck dress at home you can just buy a bloody knife and be Sharon Stone?

👱🏻‍♀️: Sharon Stone from Casino???

Me: Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct

👱🏻‍♀️: I don’t know…*sighs*

Me: Can you please excuse me for a moment, I just heard my manager calling for me…

(Spoiler alert: I did not hear my manager calling me and I spent the next hour hiding from this insufferable customer until she eventually left with a scream mask & tutu)

Posted by admin Rodney

[kiwanopie]

aki brainrot is so real

oh my god yesss honestly that gives me a reason to finally post this

Favorite.

cw: suggestive. power dynamics. manhandling. dry humping. mention of breeding. 1.3k

You’re his favorite. Is what they tell you.

And you can agree to that - to a certain extent. He’s the closest with you out of the core group, values your opinions and your judgment when on excursions, trusts you with the kind of genuinity you would expect from someone who sees you as more than just a coworker. He’s looking in your direction more often than not. Always keeping a close eye on you ~ and your interactions, and the way you represent him as a leader.

You’re his favorite.

The cold ivory of his desk turns your cheek mushy. “H-Hayakawa-senpai-“

Aki presses enough weight on the side of your head to have your skin squeaking against the neat polishing when he adjusts his feet behind you. He’s wary of your neck, of course. He doesn’t push too hard to hurt too badly, but he’s firm as he keeps you bent before him. Pert little ass pressed against his belt buckle as he reaches for the cigarette between his lips and blows out cooly.

“Hm?” You watch him tap the head of it in his ashtray. “Oh. Not Aki this time?”

So, you stepped out of line.

Which, in your defense, isn’t unheard of behavior for cadets in your position. You’re still new, the public safety program is still big and scary - and incredibly taxing. Lots of new hunter’s blow their top in one way or another after their first few commissions. Hell, you have to talk Kobeni off a ledge nearly every other scouting. But the public safety committee has always been understanding of the mental toll it takes on the people who serve it. Even Aki isn’t so cruel as to punish you every time you step out of your place.

It’s just that this time, “Where’s that big voice you were using just now? You wanted me off my fucking high horse, right? Now I’m listening.”

You may have overdone it this time.

It’s his fault for denying your request to be contracted with the Compulsion Devil. It’s hypocritical that he’d tell you ‘No’ about something like that, especially when he has that stupid sword. The terms were clear. She’ll lend you her power and in exchange you trade her a beat of your heart for every second you use it. They’re honestly pretty mundane terms in comparison to a few of the agents who work here, including himself; so you didn’t get what the big idea was if you only used her sparingly.

“No. Stop asking.”

“But you aren’t even giving me a reason?”

“Do I need to? I’m still your superior. If I say ‘No’ then that’s what it is.”

“But it’s not like-“

“Do I have to instill a punishment?” Aki cuts you off to beat his carton of cigarettes against his palm. “I shouldn’t have to tell you the same thing twice.”

You grate your teeth as he carelessly lights one in his mouth. “Unless the next thing you have to say is ‘Yes, Hayakawa-senpai.’ Then be quiet. I don’t wanna hear about it again.”

If the way your cheek rubs raw against the shiny finish of his work desk should mean anything, what you said was definitely not akin to ‘Yes, Hayakawa-senpai.’ Or anything remotely close.

“You- You’re not being fair!”

The way his crotch presses firmer into your little pencil skirt inclines you to shiver. “Yeah? So, tell me about it.”

“Himeno-“ You choke. He must’ve put out his cigarette cause now there’s a heavy hand in the middle of your back. “Himeno-senpai and Kobeni, and… everybody else in this sector all have serious contracts! Why is it that when I ask-“

You squeak when Aki bends his knees to hook himself just under the cuff of your ass - and uses it as leverage to squash you into the desk even further. Pressing against your back till you’re all but presenting on him like a bitch in heat, and even more so when he straightens his back and leans some of his weight on you.

There’s a glimpse of him in your peripheral. A flinted expression, more blank than anything, if not for the way his eyebrows cinch in concentration. “I don’t remember being the boss of Himeno-senpai and everybody else in this sector? I do, though, remember hiring an air headed brat just under a year ago.”

He sucks in a hiss and a few muttered curse words when you start to squirm against him. “Throwing a tantrum in front of the guy writing your checks doesn’t seem like a great idea if you think about it.”

“And being a massive hypocrite is?”

His fingers press groves into your scalp.

You’re his favorite. You surmise. Which is why he gets away with treating you like this. Why you’re constantly under his scrutiny, and why he punishes you the harshest when you mouth off like this. Obviously that doesn’t stop you from doing it. But his coarse fingers seem reserved for you and you alone more often than not. Candidly hands on whenever you step out of line, and making a hot spot on your back as he keeps you arched over his desk.

You push back against him to keep your balance on your toes, which earns you a hard smack on the back of your thigh. If the way he blows out a pinched breath should mean anything, you’re not the only one who’s been wound up tight. “Why do you need the damn contract anyway? What about your contract with the Coercion Devil?”

“It’s not enough,” Aki’s jaw tightens when you pout. “I’m gonna need more than one measly contract to get one up on the Gun Devil!”

“As if you can do that if you’re dead. What happens when you overdo it on that contract and your heart stops?”

“If it means getting us closer to killing that bastard then why should I care?”

Your cheek pulls tackily off the wood with a crackle.

It’s brief, the few seconds he has you pulled up by your hair but it’s enough to make you yip at the suddenness of it. Lifted off the table and snatched in his direction, he belts you to his chest with the crook of his arm secured over your neck. It’s all you can do but reach for it as he leans himself closer to your ear.

So close that his warm breath makes you to shutter. “Don’t say stupid shit like that. Ever. - I know you’re not dumb enough to actually believe something like that.”

“It’s the truth.” You argue. “What’ll be the point of any of this?”

Aki stays silent a brooding second.

And then he’s squishing you against his desk.

You heave out a chunk of air at the feeling of most of his weight suddenly toppling over you. Only giving when you whine under your breath but he’s still hovering just above, still pressing his pelvis against your skirt, still talking over your head.

You suppose you can only ignore that bulge in his slacks for so long. “I’ve been thinking of giving you a reason to quit the committee. You think knocking you up would do that?”

You kiss your teeth. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Don’t be an idiot then. I’m not letting you go out and kill yourself for no reason.”

“But-“

“You’re not making the contract.” He avows. “If I even think you’re going out there to make it behind my back, I’ll turn you into a housewife.”

You blow out an exasperated breath.

But he’s not done - Far from it actually. You realize that when he’s kicking one of your heels with his dress shoes and coaxing your legs apart. Planting his hands on the side of you as support and digging his belt into your skirt.

“Now,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket. “How do you think you should be punished?”

How he punishes you in particular.

reblog to “make a contract” with the compulsion devil

[njdevilsdarling]

the ‘costume thing’ | jack hughes x reader

*pairing: jack hughes x gn!reader

*summary: a simple misunderstanding between you and jack turns into a full-blown argument

*word count: 896

*tags: angst, miscommunication, happy ending

*a/n: goodness gracious, this was supposed to be fluff but it grew into this angsty monster. i hope you enjoy !

happy halloween !!

you’ve been trying to convince jack since september to wear matching costumes this year. jack didn’t agree to do it last halloween so maybe this time, it’d be different, but nope. he still shot down every suggestion. it’s starting to get on your nerves. you’d never force him to do it but it’s hard not to feel jealous seeing all of your friends dressing up with their partners.

and you thought you’d had some pretty good ideas, too. your best friend straight up cackled over facetime when you told them your favorite (the angel and devil thing is so overdone but jack has always looked good in white).

now, it’s two weeks before the 31st and he still hasn’t said anything. he doesn’t even pay attention anymore and you suspect that he isn’t listening whenever you bring it up. it fucking sucks.

at first, it was just annoying- something that was just aggravating enough to get under your skin- but now, it’s starting to hurt.

it’s beyond just a costume. it’s about him ignoring you and not even taking your opinion into consideration.

fine. if he wants to play that way, so can you.

“c’mon, just talk to me.”

you cross your arms and stare at him, shaking your head. oh, now he wants to talk, got it.

“did i like, forget to do something or make you upset?” jack says, sounding genuinely concerned. it’s nice to know he cares but you’ve been paying attention to how long it would take for him to approach you. three days is shitty.

you stand there in silence while he fidgets awkwardly, clearly frustrated by your lack of a response.

“can you please say something?”

you sigh, rolling your eyes. the low simmer of irritation and hurt that’s been under your skin finally boils over and you can’t stop yourself from lashing out at him. “it doesn’t feel very good to be ignored, does it?”

immediate regret sets in as you watch the look in his eyes shift rapidly from sadness to sharply annoyed. “is this still about that costume thing?”

“are you serious?” you scoff, full on glaring at him, “you think that’s why i’m upset?”

“yeah, i guess. i don’t know.”

“i’m upset because you’re not listening to me. every time i try to talk to you, you just brush me off, and that’s if you even care enough to respond,” you snap at him. you feel your eyes begin to burn and it only serves to make you more upset. you’d never considered yourself someone who tries to hide your emotions but fuck, crying over this in front of him is embarrassing. “it’s like you don’t even want to hear what i have to say. and i feel ignored.”

it’s quiet but the silence between the two of you is thunderous. jack opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find what to say. you sniffle, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes. it isn’t fair for you to spill everything you’ve been feeling lately out to him and to him to stay still and speechless. it feels like hours before he finally says anything.

“i’m sorry,” jack mumbles, and it’s so genuine that it’s almost like you have to look up at him. “i should have listened to you.”

you laugh wetly, wrapping your arms around your body. “yeah, you should have. you never even told me why you didn’t want to like, dress up with me.”

“i don’t know why.” he shrugs. at least he looks bashful. “that’s a shitty answer, isn’t it?”

he’s right. it’s a horrible answer but he says it in such a way that makes you giggle, hiding it behind your hand. hearing you laugh causes him to smile.

“i didn’t know you felt like that. i wish i would’ve, though.” jack bites his lip, his hands in his pockets. it sucks, seeing him so dejected, but part of you is glad that he’s taking this so seriously. it’s such a contrast from before; he’s actually, really, listening to you now and it’s damn satisfying. “i don’t like seeing you upset.”

you take a deep breath, nodding slowly. he’s trying. one conversation isn’t going to make everything okay but it’s a start.

“just… i need you to talk to me. fighting like this is stupid. i don’t wanna spend most of our time together arguing,” you say quietly, the last of your tears drying on your face.

jack pulls you into a crushing hug and for a moment, you stand still, before hugging him back just as tightly.

“me too.”

he’s got such a way with words.

jack flicks his headband with a frown and you watch the little halo attached to it wobble.

“quit messing with it,” you hiss, elbowing his arm when he goes to hit it again, “you’re going to break it.”

he pouts, rolling his shoulders back. maybe the wings were a little too much, but he just looks so cute in them. “and why am i the angel again?”

“because,” you say simply, flashing him a grin, “you’re always a devil. it’s my turn now.”

you quickly pull your phone out, using the camera to check if your horns are still on straight. in the top left corner, jack readjusts the wings you ‘forced’ him to wear.

you can’t fucking wait for tonight.

[nnight-dances]

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.”

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

[fairuzfan]

Hey, do you think we should keep replying to zionist bots/comments or should we just report and/or block? I've heard that they're paid by the israeli occupation per posts and per responses, but doesn't that also mean the israeli occupation will empty its pockets with every response? Since apparently they're barely even paying their IDF SOLDIERS. But on the other hand, I've seen this devout zionist bot with an ego complex say they're replying to all palestine posts to generate revenue to the israeli occupation - though that could also be a lie to discourage palestine voices, may he be punished for his words soon. What are your thoughts?

i'm of the opinion that we dont engage with any zionist and make it so they're socially unacceptable part of our online ecosystem and hopefully eventually in person as well.

what does happen when you reply to bots and just regular old zionists/sympathizers is that you're platforming them and making it seem like they have a point. sometimes its necessary to debunk lies so that people who are prone to them can realize they're false, but the whole, for example, indigenous argument is just so overdone and talked about that i'm just like "ok this is a waste of time."

something else i just dont respond to are people who do the 'x amount of arab ethnostates' claim because its stupid and like genuinely pretty racist. im not going to pretend you have any point to that argument, if people agree with you then whatever, they probably weren't going to be allies either way.

i do say outright "block this person" as a response to other people to show that i saw them and i think their arguments are stupid and i won't even interact with them.

you can bleed their pockets dry but to a certain point its a distraction and annoying and not really fostering the environment you want to have in the world. i do respond vaguely to some points/vaguepost about things or people but thats mostly a vent.

some people do need to have the lies debunked, i'm not gonna pretend thats not necessary. but sometimes its just easier to link a response from another palestinian's post from a different time and say "here you go for everyone that thinks that this person is making sense. this is anti-palestinian and racist."

[lokh]

Okay, I won't lie NSW is more than slightly outside of my area of expertise when it comes to camping but the basics are the same anywhere. You said you have a tent and bag and some gear so we're not starting out at baby beginnings.

Step one, check the forecast. If its gonna be a heat wave or a cold snap or pissing rain wouldn't it be nice to know that before you're sitting miserable in a tent in the middle of nowhere? Plan accordingly, pack accordingly and you will be amazed how much you can deal with if you're prepared for it. Personally I have a nice rainshell with me at all times because it acts as a windbreak, water barrier, and exposure layer. I have taken a rainshell into the mojave desert where it never rains and I was right to do so because the wind got cold. I have occasionally been the overprepared dork, but I have more often been the only one not getting hypothermia.

Step two, know where you're going. As in, what to expect not just physically where it is. Are there restrooms? Water? Animals? Poisonous/stabby plants? Poisonous/stabby bugs? Other campers? Poisonous/stabby campers? Hazards? Cell service? Emergency services? Gas stations? Can you safely have a fire? Can you toast/grill your food or are you having cold dinner?

Step three, pack the most obscenely overdone toiletries kit you can imagine. Yes, this is actually important. My god, human bodies are messy. All your basic overnight goodies and then add sunscreen, bug dope, wet wipes or something similar, your own toilet paper and something to dig with if you're going out past available restrooms, and a small first aid kit. The kit doesn't have to be a full triage supply, tweezers, bandaids, antiseptic and maybe some gauze if you're clumsy. If you are gonna be doing a lot of walking/hiking I also recommend moleskin for blisters. Put the moleskin on BEFORE the blister pops.

Step four, look at the forecast again, assume it's wrong and pack for the worst weather possible. You need a dry pair of socks and undies. You need long sleeves and a spare shirt. Even if it doesn't feel like it, you will sweat through the day and get damp and if you sleep in the same thing you've been wearing you will get chilled. This is why every one says no cotton for camping, no matter where you are. I have a full change of clothes for sleeping so my day clothes can air and dry overnight.

Step five is food and its really each to his own for this one. If you're hiking out you will be more limited as far as weight/refrigeration, but thats somewhat of a trial and error thing. Freeze dried meals have their place but there is no reason it has to be your go to. Remember your water and remember that if you sweat and replace it with nothing but water you will be hurting. Powdered drink mix is your friend. If you're car camping and tenting next to the car I just bring a 5 gallon jug of water that stays in the car and refill waterbottles as needed. (Note: Senshi from dungeon meshi isn't actually an unattainable fantasy, you can cook a full scale meal in the backcountry if you really want to. It is several magnitudes more difficult than you would think if you are used to cooking in a kitchen, but it is possible.)

Step six is assessing your gadgets. If you want your phone you probably need a power pack to charge it. You will want a flashlight for the dark, not your phone, not glowsticks. If you want a camera you have to figure out how to carry that with you. You also need to figure out if you have cell service and a way to call for help. The more intense you get into this, the more you should look at getting a GPS or inreach/spot device, especially if you want to go alone. This is also a good time to come to grips with the falliblity of technology and get a paper map.

Step seven is for sleeping arrangements, which you seem to have covered. My rip is to set up sleeping stuff as soon as you get to where your making camp, so that way your bag has a chance to loft and your aren't fiddling with stuff sacks in the dark when your tired. And drunk if you're party camping. Open the sleeping bag before the tequila. Also a sleeping pad will protect your bag and also your joints so you don't wake up feeling like Rip van Winkle.

Have fun, be safe, don't be a dick and clean up after your self at your campsite. Sleeping in the dirt is a great time and I hope you enjoy your trip.

thank you so much!!!! i had a great trip but it wouldve been better if id followed your advice more carefully LMAO

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 29 - Prompt: Ticket @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 497 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius shot a narrow-eyed look at Regulus. “I know you don’t do casual shite, and James doesn’t usually either. He’s a romantic, tends to fall a little in love with everyone that he fancies.”

“That is not reassuring. I can’t date someone who falls for everyone. I’m not making that mistake again,” Regulus insisted.

“Not like that! I meant he cares about everyone he’s involved with. He’s loyal as fuck, don’t get it twisted.”

Regulus hummed noncommittally as he joined Sirius on the pavement. The walk back to the Inn wasn’t long, but the silence between them made it feel endless. He was relieved to see James waiting for them as they rounded the last corner, if only to distract him for a while.

“Hey! Are you done bonding already?” he teased, striding toward them.

Sirius smirked at Regulus, then shrugged. “Might have overdone it. I think he’s sick of me, actually.”

“Correct.”

Regulus jostled his bag higher on his shoulder and rubbed reflexively at the sore spot it was creating. Before he had time to react, James lifted the bag from Regulus’s shoulder without a word and transferred it to his own. As he matched their pace, James massaged that sore spot firmly with his thumb. The combination of the heat from his hands and firm pressure eased every muscle in his upper body. If James was looking for the lucky ticket into Regulus’s pants, he found it.

“Impossible! You are a delight,” James replied, winking at Sirius. “Here I thought I’d have to bribe Padfoot to create a distraction just to sneak him away.”

“Unnecessary, you can have him,” Regulus snarked, waving dismissively at his brother.

James laughed and shook his head. “I meant you.”

Regulus tried to ignore the rush of heat in his cheeks and looked away. He was glad to hear it, even if it was a little difficult to accept. It felt like a daydream, like a fantasy that he’d wake up from any minute. James couldn’t be real.

“In that case, I’m going to take Pads for a walk,” Sirius announced, reaching for Regulus’s bag. As he added it to his own, he wriggled his eyebrows at Regulus. “You two have fun.”

“Shut it, Sirius. You’re a terrible wingman.”

“How’s this? James, you have my permission to snog my brother senseless.”

Regulus huffed, shooing him away. “No one needs your permission! Piss off already.”

As soon as Sirius strolled inside the Inn, James linked their hands together and raised them. Regulus’s mouth went dry as he watched those soft pink lips skim his knuckles. It was a ridiculously sweet gesture. Until James met his gaze and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the two fingers Regulus shoved into his mouth yesterday. A tingling feeling raced down his arm as James’s warm breath tickled his frigid skin. He was tempted to press those fingers inside, where they belonged. It was hard to ignore, even though they stood in a rather public walkway.

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