#slippers and crook are mentioned

[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

[jilixthinker]

slowly to me

=͟͟͞♡ virgin!felix × noona!fem reader

=͟͟͞♡ bestfriends/roommates to lovers

word count: 7.4K

content warning: explicit sexual content, sub!felix, soft dom!noona reader, felix is a virgin, corruption kink if you squint, mutual masturbation, clit play, fingering, cock play, dirty talk, unprotected sex (as usual), creampie, they are clueless idiots in love.

a/c: i wanted to write this for the longest time and now i am kinda nervous sharing it because it feels more personal (?) and intimate than usual. hope you will enjoy it ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

[00:17 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 💙

are you awake?

please tell me you are

I can't find my keys 😪

i know it's late

don't hate me

You blink your eyes open a few times. The sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand is insistent over the chattering noise coming from your laptop. You must have fallen asleep more than 30 minutes ago, considering that you are not familiar with the episode of the anime you are currently watching. Your fingers brush against the cover of your phone and you finally grab it with a sleepy grunt. When you unlock it, not without typing the wrong code twice, you notice that your chat with Felix is already open, a few notifications popping on the screen.

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 😪😪

[00:18 AM] you

where are you now

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

outside 😪

noona, my savior

my only light in the darkness 💙

You force yourself to sit on the bed as you yawn. When you read the last text, you chuckle despite of how sleepy you feel. It's a little bit late to be coming back home, even for Felix, but you don't mind. Felix usually stays awake till dawn, always prone to chat and watch tv series together whenever you cannot sleep. You help each other in your own ways, yours being the responsible counterpart in your household.

You find your slippers with your feet and you finally stand up, heading outside of your room and to the corridor. It's pretty warm already this time of year, and you don't even bother putting on something over your light pajamas. It's just Felix anyway, he did see you at your worst so many times that you cannot even remember.

When you open the door, Felix is fighting with the zipper of his denim jacket. He is dressed casually, almost as if he didn't put any effort on what he was going to wear. A pink hoodie is picking out from his black slacks, and his hair is styled in a messy bun, a few locks escaping from the hair tie and covering his eyes.

"Noona, I owe you." he huffs, offering you a toothy smile as soon as you let him in.

"Don't mention it. I don't even have plans for tomorrow morning, I can just sleep in." you yawn in response, plopping on the couch and closing your eyes again.

Felix hums and throws his jacket on the nearest chair of your shared living room before letting himself fall next to you, face immediately finding its favorite place into the crook of your neck.

"How was your date?" you ask him, circling his shoulders with your arm and letting him scooch closer to you.

You feel his cold nose nuzzling against your collarbones and you chuckle, bringing your hand to the top of his head and starting to untie the loose bun. Felix puffs and you can hear his lips curving into a small pout.

"As always." he mumbles. "He was cute. Funny. He paid for my order."

You nod, and your fingers find their way up to his scalp, scratching it lightly and pulling a soft grunt out of his lips. "But..." you add, waiting for the inevitable epilogue.

"But..." he shifts from his position to lay down with his face on your lap. "- I felt nothing. He was very handsome, and smart. He was nice. I could tell he would make a great boyfriend. But I just looked at him and... I couldn't see myself kissing him, or touching him. It felt like looking at a nice painting, you know? I don’t know what is wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you, Lix." you murmur in the dark. Your thumb moves from his soft locks and start circling the plump skin of his cheek. Felix huffs again and rubs his nose against your lower stomach. He does it often, and it makes him look like a small kitten looking for some comfort. Your heart always sinks at that.

"I am serious." you continue. "Feelings cannot be controlled. It's not your fault if you didn't feel attracted to him. Maybe he just wasn't the one."

Felix looks at you from his position, his big pleading eyes are a little tired.

"And who will be the one, noona? I am 23 and I didn't find a single person yet. I didn't even... you know." Felix lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "Can you tell how hard is it to reach this age without experimenting with anyone? I feel left out."

"Does it bother you so much? Being a virgin?" you ask him. Felix and you are used to talk a lot about everything without any sort of embarassment, but he only mentioned the topic of his inexperience a few times in your many years of friendship.

You didn't believe him at first. Felix was... Felix. The most precious human being on earth, smart and kind, generous and funny, witty and reliable. Your bestfriend, your proclaimed soulmate, and the prettiest person you've ever seen. Him being a virgin sounded like a joke to you. He confessed it when he was 18 at the time, and he was a little tipsy after a few bottles of beers you two had shared after moving into your new apartment. You could tell it was an uncomfortable topic for him, and you never asked him again. You just told him that he was young, and that the situation would change quickly in the following months.

But years passed, five to be exact. And Felix didn't have sex with anyone. He finished college, started working and met people, he started dating even, but as soon as the people he was seeing asked him for something more, he shut everything down and disappeared from their lives.

"It does bother me, yes." he answers quietly. "Because I am not afraid of intimacy itself. I just... don't feel the right attraction. I want to, but I can't. All these pretty boys I met, and the furthest I've gone is kissing. I don't know what to do, noona."

Felix shudders and you pull him closer to you. His voice is almost a whisper and his breathing is getting a little heavy. Your fingers go back to stroke through his hair gently, as you try to calm him down.

"Have you considered dating girls?" you ask him. "You told me you felt more comfortable with them."

Felix's arms circle your waist as he hugs you tight. He looks at you intently with a shy smile. He looks so tiny all curled up like this.

"I do love girls. More than boys actually. I thought about that a lot." He murmurs as he pulls you so close that your stomach is pressed completely against his cheek. "But I feel shy around them. I cannot help but thinking that I would mess everything up. With boys... it would be easier. I know how a male body works. But I have no clue on how to, uh —"

You chuckle at his words and you lean forward to pinch at his nose, amused by his reaction. "How to touch them?" you smile at him.

Felix laughs and lets out a breathless sigh. He pulls away slightly, though keeping his eyes locked on you. You can see a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yes. That." His voice is still playful, but you can hear the nervousness in his breath as well. "You know I have never kissed a girl before. Just boys. Uh–, I know nothing, noona." he exhales.

You scrunch your nose and you let yourself relax against the sofa behind you. Felix's arms are still linked tightly around your waist. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Lix," you breathe out. "Human nature will do its thing. When you'll find yourself in that situation, your body will know what to do."

"I'm not so sure." he murmurs, starting to rub his nose against your hipbone, sniffing at the fabric like he always does when he is feeling a little overwhelmed.

Your hand finds its way toward the back of his neck and you apply a slight pressure on the skin there. Felix lets out a shaky breath.

"You will see. With the right person, you won't feel uncomfortable at all. It's normal to don't know stuff, you know. We've all been there. And each body, each person, is different. You can figure things out along the way, by asking and learning." You try to reassure him. "It's not a performance. You should just focus on feeling good and let the other person feel good too. I promise it's not so complicated as you think."

Felix hums quietly and a mellow silence falls around you. The room is still dark, it should be around 1 a.m. now, but a beam of moonlight shines through the window, reflecting small glimpses of silver upon Felix's hair.

Felix feels small and soft on your lap. He is still hugging you, and you know him enough to sense that he is restraining himself somehow. You can feel the distress in the way his tiny hands are fisting the cotton of your pajamas around your waist.

"Lixie, sweetheart..." you murmur, voice little higher than a sigh. Felix holds tighter on you, as if he is scared of you running away. As if you could.

The fact is that you love Felix. You always did, in a way. You cannot tell exactly when you fell in love with him, but it happened sometime between your last year of highschool and your freshman year of college. You remember Felix grabbing your hand when you graduated in summer, sweat under your dress from being exposed to the hot sun, waiting for your speech. You remember him intertwining your fingers and smiling at you with devoted eyes when he helped you moving in your new dormitory. You remember him wetting your shoulder with warm tears because you were going to be separated from each other for the first time. And, oh. At a certain point you just knew.

You never talked about that, of course. You didn't think you needed to. Things between you were perfect already, and you were happy you've managed to slip neatly into your routine. Felix needs you in a way nobody else can comprehend. And you need him too, in a slight different way. And it's okay, you've always been good at managing your own feelings.

"Noona..." he answers timidly.

"What are you thinking about? I can hear the sound of your brain working no stop." you shrug, looking at him. The moonlight looks the ideal light to admire him, you find yourself admitting.

Felix looks over at you, his lips upturned with a reluctant smile. "It's just... I don't think I will ever find this person." he sighs softly.

"Why so? I cannot imagine anyone who wouldn't want to be with you. You are perfect." you say, eyes jumping down to Felix's delicate frame. His button nose covered in freckles scrunches a bit over the line of his plump lips. They look moist. They must be soft.

From his gaze, you can see that your words are the last thing Felix was expecting to hear from you. "Because–" he stutters while the pressure of his hands on you becomes almost too much, "–there is already... ugh, nevermind."

The silence that follows his semi-confession is heavy on you. You freeze at the admission, and you can tell from his eyes that he didn't mean to let that slip. That's it – you think – there is someone. Someone who Felix cares about, maybe that he even loves, and that is keeping him from living his life freely. Someone who apparently doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, given that Felix is trying to see other people and complaining about them with you.

Fuck, that hurts. You could have seen it coming, but it still hurts.

You open your mouth to formulate any sort of coherent words of encouragement that you can master, but Felix decides to move from his position at the same time you shift on the sofa to look at him. The impact of your bodies gives gravity a push, and you both go down with a loud humph, landing on the couch with your limbs all entangled. Felix groans as his back collides with the leather, and you open your eyes to check up on him, only to stop as soon as you realize how close you are to each other.

His lean and warm body is all pressed up against the cushions, and suddenly any trace of stoicism has fled the situation. You don't even remember what you were going to say, to be honest. All you are conscious of is Felix's body and the way his eyes are looking at you, making you flush with an unknown tenderness. You take a deep breath and the realization that you can feel his parted thighs caging your hips and his arms pawing at your shirt hits you hard. And maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's because you've spent the last hour talking your hearts out – and the last years repressing your feelings –, or maybe it's because Felix looks so vulnerable like this.

Whatever it is, instead of laughing everything off and move from this awkward position, you keep looking at him as some strands of hair fall onto his forehead and his breathing gets a little quicker. You find yourself thinking that maybe this is the most beautiful Felix has ever looked.

"Noona." he murmurs, and you can feel how the air shifts around you. His make-up is a little bit smudged around his eyes, you notice, and you lift your hand to rub at the corner of his eyelid with your finger. Felix trembles lightly as you touch him, and desire tugs at you, pushing you towards a path that you know is not wise.

"Noona–" he breathes out again, this time not much louder than a whisper. "I want to try something."

"Felix," you say unsteadily as Felix's hand grabs at your pajamas a little more firmly. "This isn't a good idea."

"Why so?" he asks, voice all tiny, shifting closer to you anyway. Everytime you try to look away from his lips it's like your eyes have been glued in place. "You said that with the right person it wouldn't feel uncomfortable. I– you.. I don't feel uncomfortable with you."

You sigh at his words. You are sure there is almost a thousand reasons why you shouldn't be doing this. First of all, Felix doesn’t love you. Not the way you do, at least. And he is hurting now, he is sad. He is not in the conditions of taking such a decision. But you can hardly manage a coherent thought right now, with him being this close to you.

He doesn't like you back, you cannot do this.

"Felix, I am honored that you trust me this much. I really am." you manage, but your voice sounds faint. "But this is not the right thing to do now. You don't want it to happen this way."

At that, Felix pauses and looks at you. He bites his lip, as if he was looking for the right words, and his eyes looks different, almost watery. "Don't you..." he stutters, "am I not good enough?"

You blink in confusion and a thick layer of guilt fills your stomach to the brim. You hate seeing Felix in distress, you cannot stand the way his timid smile leaves his face. You would give him the moon if that would make him happy.

"Oh no, Felix, sweetheart," you confess, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. The freckled skin feels soft and warm under your fingers. "this is not what I meant. I just– fuck," you swear in protest. "I just don't think I am the right choice. You deserve the right person for this."

Felix’s gaze fractures and he suddenly lets out the tiniest sigh, a pleading look framing his delicate traits. He turns his face to the left, leaning on your touch and he rubs his nose on the palm of your hand.

"Noona, you are not the right person. You are my person." He shyly admits, voice muffled on your skin. "But I can understand if you don't want this. If you don't want me the way I do. I am sorry for bringing this out, I should have kept that for myself."

You freeze, guilt becoming dread and pooling on your stomach. Oblivious to any of this, Felix gives you a small, sad smile and continues, "I tried to ignore it, believe me, I did. I kept myself from feeling this much because I knew it wasn't the same for you. But I can't help it, noona. I started seeing other people in the hope that it would eventually fade away. But it didn't. And now I am making a fool out of myself." Felix looks over at you and his smile is not the one you are used to see on his face. "Sorry for ruining everything," he sighs, "I just love you."

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

You feel a fist of air being pushed out of your lungs like a truck. Felix's eyes are big and sweet, and a single tear escapes from his lashes to roll down the apple of his cheek. You fucked up. You fucked up so bad. You misunderstood everything. Guilt nestles in your chest like a stone, scraping at your heart.

"Felix," you say, your voice sounding foreign and groggy, "Felix. You love me? You love me?"

Felix's eyes jump down to your lips just for a second, and then back at you. He sniffs as he brings his free hand to his face, rubbing the tear away. "I do." he admits. "I really do."

The truth in his tone has you let out an inaudible gasp. Then, in the span of a second, just the time of a blink, everything changes.

"Say it again." You whisper as your eyes lock into Felix's. And then Felix opens his mouth, just barely, and his muttered words stay still on the tip of his tongue.

"Say it." You repeat as your thumb shifts, stroking slowly along his jaw and down to his chin. "Wanna hear it again."

Felix blinks, and he looks like he can't come up with something to say at all. "Noona, what are you, uh–" he gasps when your fingers catch his bottom lip, pinching it a little to enjoy its softness.

"Lix, sweetheart..." you whisper, letting your face fall slowly down to his neck. The insides of your tighs press against the outside of Felix's as to trap him there. "You want me, uh? You love me?" you tease him, your hand coming up to steady him by the chin, keeping him still while your mouth finally founds the tender skin of his neck and you place a single peck under his earlobe. "I wanna hear you saying it."

A weak whimper makes itself known at the bottom of Felix's throat when you angle your head to the side and leave a humid trail of kisses all along the column of his neck. "Noona, I... why are you – ah – why are you doing t-this?" he mutters with a sigh.

You grin against his skin at the sound of his affected voice, and you nose at his chin blowing another tiny peck there. "Just say it." You repeat.

Felix's eyes are semiclosed now, but his pupils are wide and dark, and your grip on his jaw tightens a bit. Just another wet kiss on his Adam's apple is sufficient to convince him to give you what you're asking for. "I want you." He grumbles as his legs start to tremble under your weight. "I love you." He breathes.

And that's it. Felix doesn’t have the time to even realize what is going on before you are pressing down with purpose, your lips firm against his and your hands buried in his hair as he lets out a tiny sob. His mouth is cherry red and sweet, and your lips slid against it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him melting against the couch. The kiss feels almost electric, and the low groan Felix exhales bubbles up into the back of your throat.

Felix is soft, and his body becomes malleable and pliant beneath your touch as soon as he clings onto you with fervent hands, a little desperate to keep hold of how good he is feeling. He moans beautifully every time your lips detach from his to catch some breath, and his fingers find your face too, curling against your cheeks and keeping you close to him.

As soon as your tongue licks languidly at his bottom lip, his mouth opens up to let the warm muscle slip into his mouth with a low grunt. You can feel that Felix is not experienced in the way he is unable to do anything but tremble with pleasure in the bracket of your arms as your lips glide against his, slick and wet. He lets out another whimper when your tongue licks at the roof of his mouth and your head feels dizzy and heavy with desire.

You cannot remember the last time you felt this good and this right, to be honest. Felix’s confession is still lingering in your brain as your hips press against his in a swift movement, coaxing a soft moan out of the boy under you. You smile in the kiss, feeling as if everything in the universe is finally in its designed place and, at the same time, all condensed in the way the two of you are wrapped up in each other so tightly that you can’t keep track of where one of you starts and ends.

Reluctanly, you force yourself to separate from Felix's tender mouth just a few millimiters. "Lix, baby," you whisper lovingly on his lips. "You have no idea how long I wanted to do this."

"Y-you wanted this?" he pants, parting his legs more and allowing you to slot your body inbetween of them. His breath is sticky and hot and you feel yourself getting restless on top of him.

"Sweetheart. You have no idea how much I love you. How much I want you." You confess.

"But... but you've never–" he stutters under your gaze. "Oh God, don't tell me we've been this stupid!"

You chuckle and nod slowly. "Apparently, yes, we have been." You smile, and your chest is so full of fondness and love that it's hard to breathe. "And we wasted a lot of time. But at least we're here now."

Felix nods timidly and you lean in again, this time just kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin under his chin. You move closer to Felix's ear and then back towards his jaw. He starts to breathe harder, hands clutching the shirt of your pajamas, and his thumb brushes against the hardened nub of your nipple, making you hiss quietly.

Felix moans when you start licking at his lips again.

"Good?" you ask, smiling against his skin.

Felix nods. "Yeah. Y-you can keep going."

You comply, because you could never deny anything to him. You softly suck his upper lip between your teeth and let it go with a loud pop. Then you move to his neck again, and you bite him carefully a few times until Felix starts to squirm beneath you. The thought that you are the first person, the first woman, doing this to him has heat rushing to your face and you wonders if Felix wants to do more, or if he wants to keep things over the clothes. You are okay waiting. You've waited for years.

"Can I… can I ask you something?" he stutters when your hands find his hips and you start caressing them in tiny circles.

"Of course, Lix. You can ask me anything." you reassure him, rising your head from the crook of his neck and looking at him fondly.

"You know what we were talking about before," he breathes shyly, eyes big and teary. "I wasn't able to do anything with all the people I dated because... they were not you," he admits. "and – uh, I don't know how to say this. It's embarassing."

Felix sighs as he tries to hide his face behind his hands, but you stop him by grabbing his wrists.

"Do you want to try? Now?" you ask calmly, ignoring the burning lava that is flooding into your veins at the thought of having Felix like that, just for you.

Felix nods again, all soft and timid. "I wanna try. With you." He mutters as his hips buck involuntarily against yours for the first time. And that's when you notice that Felix is hard under you, cock stirring to life when you grind down into him as a response to his movement. "B-but I don't know anything, noona. You have to show me."

You hover your face over Felix's for a moment, searching something into his eyes before diving in again for a kiss. Felix hums languidly against you and you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it before letting it go slowly, teeth dragging. Felix groans deep in his chest and you can feel the vibrations go straight to your pussy. Then the realization that you are finally doing it hits you.

You. And Felix.

I need to stay focused, you think when you start feeling your head becoming too clouded with desire. Felix feels so tender and warm against you, and it's difficult to concentrate when your arousal begins to pool in your panties, just a few layers of fabric separating your core from Felix's poor neglected cock. The kisses get sloppier but Felix doesn’t seem to mind, and you quickly find a rhythm between the movements of your lips and the gentle rocking of your body against his.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart? You can tell me." You hum as your mouth latches again onto the spot between Felix's neck and shoulder, sucking and then soothing the skin with your tongue.

"Ah, fuck…" Felix curses when your hand finally trails down his chest and lightly grazes his cock from over his pants. He feels sensitive and overwhelmed in the best way possible, and he feels like he is losing his mind already. "W-want to touch you, noona, please. Please, I've been wanting to touch you forever."

A tiny moan escapes from your parted lips at Felix's confession and you are pretty sure that your panties are now ruined for good. You can feel the hot stickiness gluing them to your entrance.

"Okay, baby." You sigh, shifting your weight in order to lift your hips a little from Felix's body. "You can touch me. I'll show you how. Is that what you want?"

Felix pants and his fists close again on your shirt as if he's trying to steady himself. "Y-yes please. Show me." He answers, and he looks completely blissed out, hair as a messy crown around his beautiful face.

"Okay." You concede, gathering all of your weight on your right arm to pull down both your pajamas shorts and underwear with just one quick motion, air finally hitting pungently the heath of your pussy.

Felix gulps and you see his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously as he stares at the way a sticky string of slick is connecting your entrance to the cotton of your panties. You feel your core pulsing at the sight and you let the garnments fall on the ground, climbing back to Felix's body and straddling his lap.

Felix looks up to you, but his eyes keep flicking back between your face and the mound of your pussy, and you try to thrust gently against the hard fabric of his jeans, just over his hardened erection. When you rock your hips tentatively on his bulge, your clit gets caught on the cold metal of his belt, making you hiss. Your pussy throbs, releasing a gush of arousal over where Felix's cockhead should be.

"Lixie, baby." You breathe out. "Noona needs your hand for this."

Felix cheeks are as red as cherries and he hiccups at your request, nodding twice and pliantly offering you his right hand. He places it just near your thigh, not daring to get any closer to your heath without any given permission.

You smile softly at him and you wrap your thumb and index around his wrist, bringing his palm to the front of your pussy and letting it brush against the hood of your clit for just a second. "I guess you watched porn before, uh, baby?" you ask him grinding gently on his hand. "I think you know a bit about female anatomy already."

Felix sighs and a wanton moan rises from his throat when he feels your engorged clit bumping against his skin. "Y-yes, I have." He blushes.

You laugh breathily at his shyness and you let his hand slide past your front to eventually press on your labia, guiding his slim fingers to spread the wetness gushing from your hole.

"Usually I prefer to be stimulated here," you say, nudging the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bud. "In little circles." and you move your hand in tandem with him, circling your clit and trembling a little from his insecure touch. Another spurt of arousal drips from your pussy and coaxes Felix's fingers, making him moan.

"But now I want it inside." Your voice is sickengly sweet, and Felix looks like he is one step away from hyperventilating. His teeth dig on his bottom lip and he sighs in pleasure.

"Please," he whines. "Please, let me."

You roll your hips so that the tips of his fingers catch your entrance, and suddenly you sink down in just one motion. His middle and ring finger meet you halfway, and he watches your face in adoration as the two digits push into you. You let out a small whimper when his palm finds your mound again, and you finally sit on him fully.

"Ah – noona. G-god." He keens as he feels his fingers being wrapped up with your warmth.

You lift up from him, desperate for some friction, your hand still grabbing his wrist to guide him and help him. "Baby, fuck, finally." You grunt as your hips swing forward and back to create a sort of rhythm. "Wanted you like this for the longest time, you have no idea."

Felix mewls as he hears the squelching sound of his hand against your throbbing cunt. The schlick schlick is filthy and loud, and his head starts spinning. "Noona, you are so soft, so warm. Fuck, why are you so wet?" He cries, eyes big and round and locked at the way your pussy is engulfing a part of himself.

The drag of his fingers makes your head floaty and you grind further down onto his knuckles, the stretch making you want more and more.

"That's how it's supposed to be with a woman, sweetheart. We are programmed to take." You chuckle breathily as you slowly but steadily fuck yourself onto Felix's fingers. "But you are too, right? My sweet boy. You are just taking what I am giving to you, isn't it?"

Felix moans and his pads involuntarily curl upwards, brushing against your gummy spot as his head falls back, deep groans tumbling out of his parted lips. "Ah – too wet noona, too wet. I wanna, w-wanna..."

"What? What do you want, baby? Tell me, I wanna hear." You sound rightfully out of breath while you fuck mercilessly Felix's digits and you flood his hand with your juices. You shift forward to kiss him on the mouth and his palm finds your clit again, sending jolts of pleasure through your spine.

"Wanna... w-wanna be with you. Please, noona, I've waited. I need – oh, God – I need you fully. I l-love you so much, I always wanted it to be with you." He sighs against your mouth before you can slot your lips together and lace your tongue on his, sucking the wet muscle slowly until Felix is reduced as a squirming mess under you.

"Oh my sweet boy, my angel," you praise him as you try to slow down your movements. If you keep going with this pace you will cum too soon, and you want to finish together with Felix for your first time.

Felix follows your mouth and with his free hand he timidly brushes your left breast, staring at the way it bounces with every thrust of your hips on his hand. It looks mesmerized by the way your body moves and gets wet over him, preparing itself to welcome him inside even if he doesn't properly know what to do.

With a low grunt, you force yourself to stop your thrusts and you peck Felix on his tumid, soft lips. His hand falls uselessly on his hip while you balance your body on his waist to finally get rid of your last piece of clothing, throwing the filmsy shirt of your pajamas away.

Felix looks at your naked body as he if he was admiring a painting and, despite of your confidence, you find yourself blushing a little under his devoted gaze. You dreamt about this moment so much, pondering that it would never come, and now it feels almost surreal to have Felix all for you as you always wanted.

"I love you, Felix." You whisper lovingly, a tear stuck on the corner of your eye. "I love you so much."

And Felix beams. His eyes, watery with pleasure, lit up and bring a smile to his beautiful face, the face that you wished you could caress and claim as yours for so many years. "I am yours, noona. Please, make me yours." He murmurs softly.

You kiss him again, and it's hungrier this time, even more than the kisses you already shared. And then the kissing melts into licking, and then into biting, until Felix's hand finds your waist and then falls to cup your ass.

"I need you out of these clothes in 10 seconds." You mutter with a breathy sound, and Felix is fervent to obey, quickly getting rid of his pants and underwear and throwing his pink hoodie away, far from you.

When you crawl back into his lap, Felix is sitting on the couch. You find your place on his legs, straddling him until you are face to face and you can hear the sweet sound of his erratic breathing against your ear.

"I want to do it like this." You breathe out, gently nipping at his lips and then placing a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Wanna see you."

Felix sighs and his aching cock, now finally free from the constriction of his pants, throbs against your lower belly, spurting a gush of precum which dribbles into your navel. "I can't believe this is really happening." He hiccups, pleasure making his head feel dizzy.

You smile fondly. "Me neither." And you bring your hand down, resting your hot palm over his shaft and giving pressure until you are dragging the skin of his cock up and down. Felix melts with a breathy mewl.

Felix has a perfect cock, you think, and then you say it out loud. "You have a perfect cock, baby."

Felix gasps and he throws his head back, hitting the cushion of the couch. You can see that his face is flushed with arousal and embarassment, and that makes you feel lightheaded.

"So perfect," you continue, playing with your fingers and bringing your thumb to the engorged tip, smearing the thick droplets of precum all along his aching muscle until you graze his balls. "Perfect size, perfect girth, perfect color. You know how pretty your cock is, baby? Not too long, but chubby. I love it."

"Noona," Felix sighs painfully, thighs parting under your weight to give you more space. He looks fucked up, and you barely touched him.

"I want to play with it forever," you say, picking up your pace and jerking him fully. "And I will do it. I will touch this sweet cock all day long, making it cum so many times, making it feel so so so good."

"Please, please, please." Felix keens and throbs again on your hand, now hard as a rock and trying to stay as still as he can.

"It looks so tasty, too. Wanna slurp it in one bite." You whisper as you swirl your index on the slit of his cockhead and Felix lets out the sweetest groan you could imagine. It's so easy to pleasure him, and he responds to you so well.

"But not now," you reassure him. "Now I need you inside of me. Need you as deep as you can. Need you to be mine."

Felix forces his eyes open and his hands grip into the underside of your thighs, bringing you closer to him. You cross your arms behind his neck, slotting your lips together once again because you just can't get enough of Felix's breathy moans as you bring him to the edge with you.

"Noona, I don't, ah– I don't have a condom." He urges to tell you when you circle your hips against him and his tip catches the entrance of your pussy.

"We don't need a condom. I am on the pill, and I am clean." You pull away to mouth at Felix's neck, and you suck at the column until you are gliding your mouth over his Adam's apple. "And you are too, obviously. Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I need to feel you all hard and raw inside of me."

You kiss Felix again, breaths coming out in restless wisps, hips frantic. "Can you take it?" you ask against his lips, your right hand gripping Felix's wet cock. Felix nods, gulping loudly. With your arm reached behind you and your head dipped forward, you slap the tip against your cunt, eyes never leaving his face.

Felix swallows, and you can feel his heart racing as you nudge his cockhead against your heath, pussy clenching and unclenching for pleasure. You look at him in the eyes for one last time, and then you sink.

When Felix's tip breeches, you whimper at the stretch with you head lolled to the side. You push your hips down, taking Felix's chubby cock slowly until you’re seated on it. And, with his cock fully inside, Felix groans and tears finally spill from his eyes, wetting his cheeks and rolling down to his chin.

"Ah– oh, God, please! P-ple eh e-ease." He cries as he grips your hips so tight that he is gonna leave marks.

"Easy, baby. Easy." You pant, eyes rolling on your skull at the way the head of his cock presses perfectly on your spongy spot. Felix's tongue lolls out from his mouth, and you take the tip between your lips, suckling lightly on it before lifting your hips up and then slamming back again.

"It's too tight, too tight, too w-wet," Felix sobs, a dribble of saliva forming a tiny bubble at the top of his upper lip. You lower your head to look at the way you are taking Felix to the brim, his swollen balls resting on the curve of your ass, and you let out a lewd sound at the view.

But it's not enough, because this is Felix's first time, and you just know from the way he is trembling that he is not gonna last long, the poor angel he is. You played with him a bit too long considering his inexperience, and now you can feel him twitching inside of you, bringing you close as well with just a few pumps.

"I know, baby, I know. You feel so fucking good too. You fill me so well, look." And you take one of the hands that are gripping your hips, making it slide against your pussy to let him feel the point were you two are connected.

Felix grasps the base of his cock with his wrist and he tries to push it even deeper inside of your wet heath with a loud groan. "It's so, s-so good." He repeats mindlessly.

You gather all of your strength, gripping into Felix's shoulders in front of you and letting you knees carry your weight as you finally begin to ride his cock. You raise your ass up just to feel the tip catch at your rim only to force back down, fast and hard.

"Noona, ah– noona!" Felix grunts out, "F-fuck, I can't, I c-can't!"

At a particularly deep thrust, Felix cries out again, a slew of filthy words and many slurred versions of your name coming out of his red, juicy lips.

"Baby, Felix, baby." You moan, letting yourself fall against his chest and beginning to move your hips in circles. You feel his cock hitting deliciously at your cervix and your clit rubbing on Felix's hip bone.

"I lo-oh-ove you." Unable to help it, Felix begins to thrust up quickly, grinding his cock inside of you and smashing his warm cheek against your shoulder, as you involuntarily squeeze your walls around his shaft.

You are trying to make this last a little bit more, but a tight coil of pleasure starts to form in your lower belly, and Felix's heavy and raspy whines tell you that he is in your same conditions. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So thick and hot, you are making me cum, ah– so quick." You blabber, head feeling floaty. "Are you close too? Tell me you are close. Wanna come with you."

Felix hiccups and his thrusts become messy and erratic, cock leaking inside of you as you clench around him. "Close, close, s-so close." He picks you up by your thighs to throw you onto his cock as if you were weightless. "Can I, ah a-ahhh, w-where can I–?" he sobs out with every thrust.

"Inside, Lix, my love. Cum inside," you praise him. "So good to me. So good." And you whine as Felix fucks desperately into you, a thick layer of sweat on his freckled skin.

Two more pushes are what it takes to have your pussy clenching hard and tight around Felix, and as your clit rubs one last time against his pubic bone, your eyes roll backwards and you cum with a filthy long moan, flooding Felix's cock with your juices.

As the orgasm hits you, you smash your lips against Felix's and suffocate your whines on his mouth. As soon as Felix feels you pulsing around his drooly cock, you see him going cross-eyed. Then, he pushes almost violently into your heath and comes with one final, deep smash of his cock, filling you up.

Voice hoarse with pleasure and a little out of breath, Felix moans softly, face finding its comforting place in the crook of your neck. "I love you." he whispers.

You both stay silent for a couple of minutes, and you loll your head to the side to huff warm breaths that tickle Felix's temples.

"How do you feel?" You asks, bringing your fingers to slowly pet Felix's damp hair. You tongue feels heavy inside your mouth, and your legs muscles sting. But you are happy.

"I feel like I waited for this moment for my entire life." Felix's words are slow and shy, despite of what just happened between the two of you. You can feel him chuckling against your shoulder. "I still have to process what is going on."

"We have time." You murmur, kissing his forehead and hugging him lovingly, keeping him safe in your arms. "Now we have all the time in the world."

Felix smiles. The room is not dark anymore.

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[astraystayyh]

skz and how they would say 'i love you' for the first time

genre : fluff. pre-established relationship.

warnings : mention of anxiety in Han's part.

this is my first ever writing here so i hope you enjoy, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments/reblogs it will be much appreciated <33

Chan

You were in the studio, lying down on the couch while Chan worked some more on a new track. It was past 2 am, and you were trying so hard to stay awake so that you'd be able to walk home with him. Still, the day's tiredness caught up to you and you felt your eyes close slowly. The soft hums coming from Chan, the repetitive clicks on his keyboard, the stillness in the studio- it all came together like a gentle symphony that lulled you right to sleep.

Sometime later, Chan turns around stretching out a little. A smile graces his face when he looks at your sleeping figure; your cheek was squished against your arm, your hair messily sprawled around you. He slowly gets up and kneels in front of you, careful not to wake you up- he just wanted to admire you.

His finger softly grazes your brows, your nose, your cheeks and lips, as if trying to commit every single one of your features to memory. He felt guilty that he kept you up for so long, but ultimately, he was grateful that he had you with him. Your presence alone made him feel at home, because home is wherever you are.

Looking at you, a panorama of lovely memories starring you started playing in his mind. He saw you smiling at him, placing a gentle kiss on his temple. He saw you sat on his lap, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. He saw you preparing him a homemade meal and making sure he ate it.

He had found a safe haven in you, a place to rest amid the chaos that was his life. He cared for you so much that it scared him at times. He wouldn't be able to cope with losing you.

That's when it hits him; he was in love. He was in love with you. The realization didn't come like tidal waves lapping softly at the shore, instead, it crashed down on him, drowning him in everything that is you. He loves you, he's loved you for a long time and he can't imagine ever not loving you.

Chest slightly heaving, he whispers it, the softest "I love you" he's ever said. You didn't hear him since you were asleep, but he had to confess, he couldn't keep this surge of emotions inside. But don't fret, he'll tell you when you wake up. He loves you and he needs you to know it too.

Minho

Minho has known that he loved you for a while, yet the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. See, he didn't know if it was too soon to say it, would you reciprocate it? Would you be put off by his declaration? He couldn't risk you so instead he settled on doing what he does best, showing it to you.

But those pending three words plagued his mind, and he found himself longing to say them at the most random times. He'd wake up next to you and you'd smile at him, I love you, he wanted to confess. You'd prepare him breakfast while he got ready, I love you. You'd hug him goodbye, I love you. You'd remind him to drink water, I love you. The sun would cast a golden glow on your eyes, I love you. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to get this beautiful feeling off his chest. But he kept it in, and soon, it choked him, he had to say it.

On a random Tuesday, he had kissed you goodbye, your mouths meeting in the gentlest kiss as if you both had all the time in the world to love each other. And then, another kiss placed on your neck, a promise of something more. He was already at the end of the street when he stopped in his tracks. You were calling out his name, running towards him, chest heaving from the effort. He chuckled lowly to himself, you were still wearing your pajamas and the bunny slippers he bought for you, to match his own.

"What's wrong kitten?", he asks and you grab his arm, to steady yourself. Taking deep breaths, you explain, "they said it will rain and you didn't take an umbrella with you, so I brought it for you".

You hand him the umbrella and he stares at it, eyes wide. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, the small attention setting off a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't believe that you were his and that you were this thoughtful, for him.

That's when he blurts it out, the "I love you" that was begging to be freed from the confines of his mouth. It was a relief to finally say it, it was never a secret meant for him only, he should have told you from the start. He smiles and says it again, this time much slower, savoring the way the words rolled out of the tip of his tongue "I love you, yn". He liked saying it, he realized, and he liked it more when you giggled, cradling his face between your hands, "I love you, Minho."

Changbin

This was your first-time meeting Changbin's family, and you were very nervous. You had been dating him for 5 months now, and he has finally found the perfect time for his favorite people to meet. You knew how much he cared for his family, so you needed to make a good impression on them. You wanted them to see you as family too.

Thankfully, the dinner went amazingly well. You were a little shy at first, but with Changbin's help- that came in the form of his sense of humor, you came out of your shell quickly. The conversation flowed easily between you, his parents and his sister. And you were more than happy to answer all of their questions. His mom even insisted on showing you Changbin's baby pictures, despite his begging to not "embarrass him" anymore.

You were now helping Changbin's sister in the kitchen while she plated the dessert, laughing about Binnie's childhood stories. That's when his mom leaned into his ear, whispering "I really like her, she's a good one." To that, Changbin smiled fondly, whispering a "I like her too."

Shortly after, the dinner was over and you both bid your farewells to his family, promising to come back again. As soon as you were out of the door, Changbin brings you into his arms and spins you around. You giggle, confused by his sudden outburst. When he stops, you raise a brow inquisitively at him, as he stares at you with twinkles in his eyes. "You fit right there, with my family," he explains, a soft smile on his face.

"You think that went well?" you ask, fidgeting a bit with the hem of your shirt.

"Well?! Yn, they loved you!" he whisper-shouts excitedly, before his expression turns serious. He takes in a deep breath, grabbing both of your hands in his, as if to make sure you were there and not a dream. His eyes stay on the ground for a couple for seconds before they finally meet yours, "and I love you."

"You... You love me?" you repeat, eyes wide staring into his.

"Yeah baby, I love you so much," he grins, bringing one of your hands to his mouth and brushing his lips against your knuckles.

"Binnie... I love you too," you smile, unshed tears pooling into your eyes.

"Say it again," he smiles cheekily and you laugh.

"I love you."

"Is this the happiest day of my life?" he yells at the sky and you chuckle, pulling him in for a hug.

His strong arms encircling yours, your sweet scent surrounding him, that's when a second realization hits him. He will marry you one day. But for now, that's a thought he keeps to himself.

Han

You had a date night planned with Han, a reservation in a fancy restaurant you've been dying to try out. You dressed up accordingly for the occasion and Han couldn't take his eyes off of you. "You are really pretty", he tells you for the fifth time since you picked him up and you smile "You are pretty handsome yourself", to which he winks at you.

You've finally parked in front of the restaurant when you notice that Han has gone eerily quiet. His leg is bouncing up and down anxiously, and you signal to the valet that you are not coming out yet. You angle your body towards Han, grabbing his hand in yours and rubbing soothing circles on it. "What's wrong?", you ask softly and he shakes his head, "Nothing, let's just go inside". He attempts to smile but it only comes off as a grimace, worrying you even more.

"Han, sweetheart talk to me, please. What's wrong?".

"It's nothing, I'm just... feeling anxious, I guess", he whispers and your heart constricts in your chest at how small his voice sounds. You were familiar with anxiety as well, and you've learned to notice when it sprang up inside Han. And right now, he needed to be home.

You drop his hand, put the car in reverse, and leave the parking lot. You can feel Han's eyes on you, so you turn towards him with a smile, "how about we watch a movie at home, hum? Order takeout?"

"But... The reservation? You wanted to go to the restaurant".

"We can always go another time, and besides, I just want to spend time with you. Anywhere will do", you shoot him a quick smile, before turning your attention toward the road. He is quiet for the rest of the ride, but he squeezes your hand three times; his silent "thank you". He has never appreciated you as much as he did now.

When you arrive to your apartment, you are quick to change into your pajamas, giving Han some spare clothes he left at your place. You place an order of Han's favorite comfort meal, before laying down on the couch, making grabby hands at Han for him to join you. He chuckles, then he lays between your legs, his head on top of your stomach. You play with his hair for a little while, stopping to ask him a "feeling better?", to which he nods yes.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, both of you enjoying the peace that you found in each other's presence. That's when Han calls out your name, "yn?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I think I love you", he says softly, his words muffled by his mouth squished against you.

Your hands pause their movement in his hair, taken aback by his sudden declaration. You could feel him hug your middle tighter so you resume your touches. It's quiet for a while when Han speaks again, "yn?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I know I love you", he says, standing up to sit on the couch and pulling you up with him. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you smile when he automatically lowers his forehead for you to kiss him too. That was a cute habit he had developed and it made you melt every time.

"Han?"

"Yes pretty?"

"I know I love you too", you whisper back, this time kissing him on his lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle, it was Han's way of saying "as long as you're here, as long as you love me, I'll be okay."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, he knew it, you knew it, and you loved him for it. He first realized he loved you when he woke up next to you for the first time. You were still asleep, the sun rays seeping through your curtains and illuminating your face in the most angelic way. You had nuzzled closer to him, whispering his name in your sleep, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. That's when he knew, this is the sight he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life. That's when he knew he loved you.

He wanted to take you to the beach at night, walk with you near the shore hand in hand. And then he'd tell you, he'd tell you he loved you and he'd make sure that the sea, the moon, the stars were all there to witness your blooming love.

What he didn't plan on was you heading to his dorm and picking him up with no previous announcement. You put a blindfold over his eyes and drove him to a location only you knew. You didn't budge, even when he pouted asking you countless times about where you were taking him. "You are so cute", you cooed and he smiled, before frowning again.

You took him out of your car, his hand strongly holding onto your arm. He almost tripped and you giggled, grateful that he could not see the amused expression on your face. "You are smiling right now aren't you", he accused and you laughed, "Yes, I am". He knew you too well.

When you finally entered the building, you stepped behind a bit, before telling him "You can remove the blindfold".

He does it very quickly and ends up struggling a bit, which makes you laugh even more. He playfully glares at you but his expression morphs into shock when he realizes where he is. This is an art exposition that he was dying to see, but that was going to end very soon. He couldn't go during the day, since he was very busy. And the art gallery was supposed to be closed at night, yet here they were at 10 pm.

"How did you do it?", he asks incredulously, his eyes darting around as if he couldn't settle on one piece of art to look at. Finally, he looks at you.

"Well, I knew you wanted to come, and turns out a friend of a friend knows the owner and they agreed to have it open just for us", you smile, moving closer to him and encircling his waist with your hands.

"You did this for me?", he asks, a wave of emotion swirling inside of him. This was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him.

"Of course, I did this for you. You deserve it, angel", you grin and he grins back, cradling your face between his hands.

"I really love you", he says gently, but then he slaps a hand on his mouth as if he wasn't supposed to blurt it out.

"What did you just say?".

"I said, I like you. Anyways let's move-"

"Hyunjin Hwang, did you just tell me you love me and then tried to play it off?".

"Whaaat no", you give him a blank stare, "Maybe...? Yes", he sighs defeated, and you chuckle.

"I love you too, my idiot".

"Who are you calling an idiot also- wait? You love me?", he asks a lovestruck expression on his face. He was looking at you as if you loving him was the greatest gift the universe had to offer, it made your cheeks turn a crimson red.

"I love you, Hyunjin", you repeat and he beams at you, pulling you in for a long kiss that leaves you both breathless afterward.

"I'm in love with you, yn", he says and you giggle, "Then why did you try to take it back?".

"Because I had this whole thing planned to confess", he huffs and your heart swells inside of you.

"You know, you don't always have to do grand gestures for me, I appreciate every moment with you, even the simple ones".

"I know, my love. But I love you and I want to make every moment perfect for you", he mumbles the last part and you smile fondly at him, standing on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Should we check this out then?", you offer and he nods eagerly, "Yes please. Also, I love you", he says again and you laugh, "I love you too".

You spend the rest of the night wandering around the art gallery. Hyunjin thought that the pictures he saw didn't do the paintings justice, or maybe it was your exchanged I love you’s that lingered in the air, seeped into every painting, and made the exposition full of the love you had for each other.

And although he loved the paintings displayed, he loved you much more. That's why, in a room full of beautiful art, he still spends most of the night looking at you.

Felix

You've never really liked the color yellow, that is until you started dating Felix. You saw him as your sun; vibrant, full of life and warm. Being with him was like finding reasons to be alive over and over again. Being with him felt like yellow.

And for Felix, you were the moon. Gentle, safe, illuminating even his darkest tunnels. Being with you felt like finding a safe haven, a place where he can rest and feel loved.

He was a happy person, you noticed. Or at least, he tried to be as happy as one could be. He liked smiling, and he loved making you smile the most. But he was human after all, and he had days where he felt tired, and off. And tonight, it was one of those days, where he came over to your apartment after a particularly long day of practice. He didn't talk much, only hugging you as soon as he set foot into your place. He absently ate the dinner you made for him, took a shower, and joined you in bed.

"Long day?", you asked him, your hand running up and down his bare arm.

"Mm, just need you", he whispered and you place a kiss on his head in response, your hand moving up into his hair to play with it. You hum a lullaby under your breath, and he nuzzles closer to you.  Your sweet voice lulling him into sleep.

Sometime later, when you were sure he fell into a deep slumber, you gently peeled yourself away from him. He grumbled in his sleep, grabbing the pillow to hug it to his chest, thinking it was you. You chuckle softly, before tiptoeing towards the kitchen.

There, you decide to bake cookies for him to have in the morning. You knew it would make him happy, and he'd get a boost of energy from it. You just hoped it would compensate for the bad day he had.

You tried to be as quiet as possible, mixing in the ingredients in the utmost silence. And when your cookies are finally in the oven, you sigh, happy that you managed to do it without waking him up. Or so you thought, because as soon as you sit down on a stool, Felix emerges into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"What are you doing?", he asks in a small voice, his eyes still half closed.

"Baking cookies".

"At... 3 am?", he asks and you giggle, "Yes! So that you'd take them with you tomorrow".

"You made them for me?", he asks, much more awake now.

"Of course, silly. Wanted to cheer you up", you whisper softly, heat creeping up your cheeks.

He's quick to come to your side, pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. When he pulls away, his eyes are shining brightly, like a million tiny stars found refuge inside of them. "You are so healing to my soul", he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you lean into his touch.

"I love you. You know that, right?", he pecks your cheek, your forehead, your temple, and then your nose. Words and featherlight kisses that made you feel like you are on cloud nine.

"I love you my lixie", you say back, bopping his nose with yours, an Eskimo kiss.

"I'm the luckiest man alive to have you", his lips finally find yours and you sigh contently into the kiss.

"I should bake you cookies more", you tease and he laughs, "I really love you".

"I love you more", you grin and he smiles back. There you were, in the middle of the kitchen at 3 am, a sun and a moon meeting each other in a tender embrace.

Seungmin

Seungmin is strong, composed and calm. You liked that about him, he was like your anchor in a disturbed sea. He always grounded you back to safety, to him. He was also hard-working, going the extra mile to perfect his singing, staying up late into the night to practice, and you were always there to cheer him on.

He opened up to you, slowly but surely. But even in those moments of vulnerability, he still seemed strong to you. His body never betrayed him save for a shake of a hand, a shudder, a chest that rose up and down slightly faster than normal.

Imagine your surprise when one day you came home, to find him curled up on your couch. You gave him a spare key, so it wasn't his presence that shocked you. It was more of the soft whimpers that came from him, so muffled you had to strain to hear them. He was crying, for the first time in front of you.

You froze in your steps, unsure about how to proceed. But then, you quickly step forwards toward him, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade, then his head. His back was still facing you, so you kneel in front of him, your arm draped across his body.

"Seungmin, love?"

"Mm?".

"What do you need me to do?".

"Just hold me", he whispers and you nod, although he couldn't see you. You quickly climb onto the couch, spooning him from behind. Your arms encircle him, and you peck his neck softly. Your way of telling him 'I’m here whenever you are ready'.

It's silent for a while, save for his cries that subsidize as time goes by. You are not sure how long you stay in that position, but you don't mind. You'd do anything to help him.

"Thank you", he finally speaks up and you smile softly.

"Don't worry, baby. I got you".

He turns around, pulling you instantly towards his chest. You can hear his heart beating widely and you frown, that was unusual, your touch normally calmed him down.

But then, you feel it, rhythmic taps on your back. One tap, four consecutive taps, then three. Again, and again. Softly at first, but then more persistent. He was telling you something, you realized. 1-4-3, he was telling you I love you.

You smile into his chest, your cheeks tinting pink. And then, you pull away from him, kissing his mouth softly, "I love you too, Minnie".

He smiles, rolling his eyes playfully, "aren't you clever?".

"Can't help being this smart", you tease and he chuckles.

"I love you, baby", he enunciates this time and you giggle, "See it wasn't that hard".

"Shut up", he pinches your side slowly and you put your tongue out childishly at him, "You love me".

"You are annoying", he complains but the smile on his face says otherwise, "And you love me", you repeat, giggling.

"And I love you".

Jeongin

You were laying down on the floor of the practice room, while Jeongin repeated the new choreography time and time again. Everyone was long gone, but he wanted it to be perfect, and you were there to serve as emotional support. As he laid down on the floor next to you every now and then, placing a quick peck on your mouth before standing up yet again.

You were scrolling mindlessly on your phone when Jeongin lays down, on top of you this time. "You are sweaty", you scrunch your nose jokingly and he rolls his eyes at you. He still smelled nice but you loved teasing him. "You are my lover so you will endure this", he wiggles his brows at you and you laugh.

"Are you done?", you ask him, your hands pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to his forehead.

"Mm, I'm so tired", he closes his eyes for a second, and you smile at how pretty he looks.

"Ler's go for a drive!", you yell and he startles awake. "You need to stop hanging out with Changbin".

"Whatever, let's go!", you stand up, pulling him up with you.

"I need a shower", he pouts and you pause, thinking for a second, "Okay, go shower and i'll meet you at the dorm".

"And where will you go?"

"You'll see", you smile mischievously and he chuckles, "Yes ma'am".

Truth is, you haven't spent a lot of time with your boyfriend lately. So, you took it upon yourself to turn this small time you had together into a proper date.

15 minutes later, Jeongin hops into your car, freshly showered. You give him a quick hug, basking in the scent of his cologne; a hint of spices, and wood. "You smell good", you compliment and he smiles mischievously, "I know".

He puts some music on, and you both bop your head to 'Cheese', screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. 'Gone away' comes in next, and you sing it together, your voice is tone-deaf, and he chuckles at your desperate attempts to hit the high notes.

"Idols are lucky you aren't a singer", he jokes and you laugh, swatting his arm.

Those late-night drives were a common occurrence between the two of you. You'd pick him up and drive around, no particular destination in mind. You'd roll the windows down, the night breeze ruffling your hair and his, but it felt nice and freeing. During those short drives, you'd both forget about the hardships of the day, savoring the presence of each other.

But this time, you had a destination in mind. You park in front of the beach, taking out a blanket from the back of your car, and some ice cream you bought while he was showering. You grab his hand in yours, running towards the sea. "Run faster", you yell to him and he laughs, "I'm tryingggg".

You collapse on the sand, and he collapses on top of you, giggling. "Am I your favorite pillow?".

"Mm, you are more comfortable than my bed".

"Get up, I'm getting sand all over my hair", you push him away laughing, and he pouts, "You don't love me anymore?".

Your breath hitches in your throat; love was an unknown territory you haven't breached yet with Jeongin. He has never muttered the word before and now he was joking with it nonchalantly as if your heart isn't threatening to fall out of your chest.

You decide to play it off, plastering a smirk on your face while you lay the blanket down, "Who says I love you?".

His hand on your wrist stops you in your tracks. His brown eyes staring expectantly into yours, an unknown emotion dancing in his pupils. "Do you? Love me, I mean", he asks in a quiet voice.

Hope, you realize, that was what he felt looking at you.

"I do", you admit softly, you've known for a while, but you didn't want to confess it in case he didn't feel the same.

"Say it", he says breathlessly, as if the words coming out of your mouth is the oxygen he needs to survive.

"I love you, Innie".

His smile is the widest you've ever seen on his face, it's dazzling and it knocks the breath out of you even more. At that moment, you didn't care if he said it back, as long as he smiled at you this way.

"I love you too, ynnie", he whispers, as if it's a secret meant for the two of you alone. He was always private with his love, wanting those moments to be witnessed by you two alone. It made it all the more special to him.

You pull him in for a kiss, his hand finding your jaw and tugging you to him softly. You both smile into the kiss, laughing when you pull away at how happy you both look.

"Here, before it melts", you hand him the ice cream and he takes it, opening the packet and giving it to you first. You then lay your head on his shoulder as he drapes his arm around you. You both eat the vanilla ice cream, the sound of the waves crashing softly surrounding you in an intimate bubble.

Jeongin closes his eyes, a peace he's never felt before washing over him. He then looks at you, at the stars, at the sea, at the sand, at the ice cream in his hand.

He wanted to commit every detail of this night to his mind so that he could revisit it again when you weren't around. 

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Noni !!!! ♡

Help! Staaap me ! I'm having ideas aaaa, I don't write well, but the muses gave me this, and I need to torment someone with it ! Lucky you !!

Here was I doing the dishes and daydreaming about a certain blonde sorcerer, and I'm giving you the idea/prompt/ idk what this is, but maybe it.could turn into a story in your dexterous hands. Hehehohoho

Your husband Nanami Kento wakes up and you're not there, he hears you the kitchen making Saturday morning lazy day off work breakfast.

He wakes up hit and bothered and go the kitchen to tempt you, he's in grey sweatpants, you are wearing his white t-shirt. In a soft gruff morning voice, you're in the sink washing some fruits, he kisses the nape of your neck, talking smoothly into your ear, you can feel his "discomfort" pressed up into your back, he carries you, coax you back to bed, kisses wherever he can. You continue carrying on with your duty, playing vou, until his slips a finger into your panties, starts toying with you and then your done for it, breakfast forgotten, he carried you back to bed and sweet, spicy love making morning time. 🔥🥵💀❤️‍🔥

Sends you a hug and well wishes ! I'm gonna rot in hell with all these ideas.

Tags/warnings: MDNI 18+, P in V, Cunnilingus, BJ's Domestic, Established relaationship, Soft Nanami Kento, mention of washing dishes and 1 mention of kidnapping (there is no kidnapping Nanami is just anxiety ball) FLUFF, smut, idk what else.

A/N: Here it is. Im sorry it took me so long to write this i mean i really put the pro in procrastination...

A sudden clang of metal jolted Nanami Kento out of bed. Immediately, his arm reached out to his right-– empty. The messy bed and askew pillow suggested someone may have lain there, but the lack of warmth that reached the blonde's fingers suggested that the one he looked for had left long before he arose. 

Nanami swung his legs off the side of the bed and, picking up his grey sweatpants off the floor but not quite bothering with his slippers, cautiously made his way out of the room toward the offending noise. His hand balled up in a fist, ready to attack whatever intruder there may have been awaiting and, of course, to defend the love of his life: you. 

But what met Nanami's eyes instead was the most breathtaking sight he had ever seen…

In the soft golden glow of the gentle morning sun, you stood— illuminated. 

Your hair was still messy from it being smushed against the pillow. You wore his white tee-shirt, which strained against your hips, tummy, and chest wrapping you in a secure embrace. And on your feet were your fluffy, bunny bedroom slippers. His tee-shirt barely covered your ass which Nanami quickly realised was bare underneath, when you lifted your arms, trying to reach a higher shelf. You were washing dishes…washing dishes… the clang. Nanami quickly put two and two together and smiled. There was no danger after all – save that of his breath loss.

He silently crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Good morning, beloved.” 

You jumped, dropping the bowl you'd been sleepily scrubbing, replicating the sound that woke Nanami from his dreams. “Christ, Ken…you scared the shit out of me.” 

The man behind you chuckled. He dipped his head to rest in the crook of your neck starting to kiss your skin softly. The smell of the bed still lingered on your body, warm and sweet. 

“We'll, we're even now. For a moment I thought you were being kidnapped and were putting up quite a fight.” 

“What—what do you mean?”

“A loud clang woke me up.” 

Silence fell as you stood trying to process the reason, during which time Nanami's nose grazed against your skin trailing down, inhaling your sweet scent. 

“Did you know how much you smell like something terribly edible in the mornings?” He nipped at you. 

“Ken…” you whispered, “It's early, Ken.”

“Mmm.”

“We forsook the dishes last night already. I really want to finish up.”

“Well, I'm not stopping you, am I?” 

You sighed and tentatively resumed the slow scrubbing of the bowl you had dropped earlier. 

Nanami dropped his hands from your waist to the hem of his tee shirt on you. You felt the fabric creep up the swell of your ass. 

“Kento-o-o,” you warned. 

“Go on. You're still able to wash the dishes.”

The lips on your neck burned,  sucking and licking at the thin skin. A wanton moan sounded somewhere, and with a blush, you realised it was you. 

Nanami chuckled. “That’s my girl.” 

“Nanami Kento, you really are incorrigible,” You turned around to kiss him. 

“Can you blame me? When I walked in here to find you looking like everything I ever dreamed of?” Your noses touched, and Nanami pushed his hips against yours. Suddenly the room felt hotter than before. “Do you see what you do to me…”

You could feel the growing bulge in his sweatpants. It strained against the fabric reaching out, needing touch. 

Nanami flipped you around so he could face your back and ground against your ass. His hands reached up to cup your breasts pulling you into him so he could whisper in your ear.

“Let's play a game, let's see if I can make you come before you can finish washing up. If you finish washing first, you win and I'll buy lunch for us today. If I make you come, well, you're buying.” 

Your lover's fingers found your slit. Expertly delving into the folds, he toyed with the bundle of nerves between. You were playing a losing game. The events of the night before were still fresh in your muscle memory and with the lightest touch your libido had been awoken again, remembering the touches from a few hours ago. 

Trying and struggling to pick up a plate and the sponge, you quickly realised your grip was lacking. Kento kissed your neck again, this time with the intention of leaving marks. His semi-hard cock prodded at your back and the thought of him lifting you onto the kitchen counter flashed in your mind. 

“You seem to have lost some soap darling,” Nanami said without missing a beat. You looked down at your hand, curled up in a fist, squeezing the once-pregnant sponge for all it was worth. “Now wouldn't it be something if I could make you come on just my fingers…” 

“Ken…this isn't fair,” you whined. 

“Oh is that so, would you like me to stop then?” 

You shook your head vigorously. 

“That's what I thought.” 

Keeping his fingers at your clit, Nanami kneeled down and used his other hand, and shoulders, to spread your legs apart. The tight tee-shirt rolled up your ass, exposing it to the cold morning air and you felt goosebumps rise. He spread your asscheeks and dipped his face right in, replacing his fingers with his tongue. You were already dripping. It wouldn't take long. 

The dishes lay untouched. Your knuckles were white from squeezing the sponge, and here you were, just seconds away from coming all over your lover's face.

Anticipating the release, Nanami hummed against your pussy and in his signature baritone commanded, “Come for me.” 

His lips wrapped around your throbbing clit sucking on the nub. Your legs gave way and immediately his hands caught hold of your waist. 

“Fuck– haa– coming, Ken–” 

Your thighs quivered and your orgasm came shattering through and you held the countertop for support as Nanami helped you ride out your high, licking you with slow broad stripes. When you slowly came down from it he withdrew, getting to his feet. 

“Guess I won that round.” 

You did not complain when he took your hands and led you away to the bedroom. The tee shirt was the first to come off. With it, he wiped away any remaining soap suds on your arms. He sat you down on the bed, your legs still unsteady, and you took the opportunity to grab the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Sweetheart, you don't have to…” 

You shushed him. “I want to, please?” You said, looking up at him with big eyes. 

Nanami nodded. 

You tugged the fabric down, letting his cock spring free. 

Smiling at him, half disbelieving you remarked, “It's like we barely touched each other last night, look at you Min-min…” 

Nanami stroked your head. “It's the effect you have on me, Princess. You turn me on, so fucking much…” 

Your tongue licked a long stripe up his length, while you kept your eyes locked on him. “I could say the same about you, you know.”

Nanami closed his eyes and tilted his head back, the grip on your hair tightened. 

“Really? In that case, I'd suggest we keep doing that for each other for the rest of our lives.” 

You took the head in your mouth and bobbed up and down on it, letting him fill you. Although he allowed you to go at your own pace his hand never left your head, gently stroking your soft hair. With one hand you wrapped the base of his cock where your mouth couldn't reach and pumped him in time to the movements of your head. 

As it was always, Nanami's size was not easy. No matter how many times you took him in your mouth, you would dribble and drool, trying to fit more. Fortunately, this served to only spur the man on, and he gently thrust into your mouth – careful not to hurt you. 

It was evident you were not the only one still raw from the night before. Quiet grunts and deep growls, in the company of sharp hisses, as your tongue found its way around his cock head, told you that despite looking composed, Nanami was as desperate as you felt yourself to be. The wetness between your thighs only increased as you sucked his cock – turned on by not only what you were doing for him but also what you were doing to him.

A sudden loud hiss and Nanami grunted, “Shit, babe, get off!”

Losing yourself in the feeling of his cock in your mouth you failed to notice how Nanami's balls had tightened, ready to unload. You released him with a pop but continued stroking. “Come in my mouth,” You felt a twitch under your fingers but continued your gentle movement. 

“No, not your mouth, need to – feel—”

He pushed you down to the bed without waiting for a response. You smirked, and spread your legs. 

“Look at you, so desperate for this pussy. If only people knew how the great Nanami Kento could be made to kneel so easily.” 

Nanami blushed, lining his cock up with your entrance. His hands fondled your breasts lightly flicking the hardened nipples. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he pushed past the small opening, stretching you out onto his cock.

“I could– say the same– about you, my love,” Nanami parroted your earlier statement. 

He bottomed out easier than usual, filling you to the brim. Your hands found purchase in his hair – tugging gently and you pulled his head to yours, meeting his mouth in a rough, sloppy kiss. He pinched your nipples just as you slipped your tongue in his mouth and swallowed the filthy moan that dripped from your lips. 

Kisses coupled with well-timed thrusts had you at the edge well enough, but Nanami was far ahead of you. Desperate to have you come around his cock again he searched the bed for the small vibrator that had been discarded among the rumpled sheets the night before. Not once did he stop fucking into you, searching only with the sense of touch and, when he finally came by it, wasted no time in switching it on and laying it on your clit.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Your hips bucked upwards as blasphemous prayers dripped from your swollen lips. He grabbed hold of you, easily lifting your body into an embrace feeling the strong vibrations run up his cock as well. His thrusts grew faster and rougher with each passing minute.

“Hnng– fuck, I'm going to come, baby,” he growled. 

Your fingers carded at his hair and you pulled his even closed faces just inches apart as you looked into his eyes and cried, “C- come for me then. Right– right now. With me!”

Nanami let go with a guttural groan spilling inside you, at the same time you felt your climax wash over you. Your pussy held Nanami in a vice-like grip pulsing and throbbing as he emptied into you and you gushed onto him. The vibrator fell to the bed, once again lost among the sheets but you couldn't care less. Nanami was kissing you, like it was the first time he'd ever kissed you. Lips, teeth, hands, you were pulled into him as he devoured you. 

The high gradually faded. You laid your head on Nanami's arm leaving small kisses along his skin – wherever you could reach. He smiled down at you. 

“I meant it you know, let's actually keep turning each other on for our whole lives…”

You looked up at him, your heart full. “Nanami Kento, as much as I love you, I'm not accepting that proposal. You have to get me a ring.” 

He chuckled and pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head, “I'll do that, and more. Starting with our repeatedly abandoned dishes.” 

You kissed his chest smiling. “I can't wait to say ‘I do’.” 

A/N: GUys i DROPPED MY PHONE ON MY FACE JUST AS I FINISHED THE SEX SCENE and it very STRATEGICALLY landed right on a pimple on my forehead with the corner like FML. here i am thinking about being railed into SUNday by MR NANAMI KENTO AND MY PHONE SAYS BONK GO TO HORNY JAIL HELP. THAT TOO DURING PRIDE MONTH. is this a hatecrime???

[arcielee]

But you came over me like some holy rite.

Summary: Your husband seeks you out. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2160 Warnings: Just some smut. Marital infidelity, mentions of Targcest, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, edging, Aemond being petty. Author's Note: Thank you @sylasthegrim for beta reading! 💜 This is the alternative ending to Only if for a night. that nobody asked for. Enjoy! Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune

You could not help how you glowed from the secret you now kept tucked behind your ribs and cradled against your heart. It was something precious, something intimate that you clung to until it felt as if it was rattling your bones beneath. 

This is how it had been since your night spent with the king, and you were quick to learn that Aegon was insatiable. He would slip into your quarters through passageways you had not known existed. He would ravish you until the blood streak of the rising sun peaked from the bay, spilling into your room, until your linen was soaked from the mixture of your perspiration and from the multiple peaks he craftily drew from you; you were spent with your blood rising to the surface, leaving you crimson and boneless, but with a blissful smile played on your kiss swollen lips. 

“This is our secret,” he would murmur into the crook of your neck, withdrawing his fingers from your pulsing warmth. His digits glistened with your release which he rubbed onto his swollen cockhead before shifting between your thighs and pressing against your entrance.

You moaned from the overstimulation, from the stretch as he sheathed within you, your body pliant and melding against his, your hips cant and rocking in tandem with his own. “It is our secret,” he rasped again, his lips moving to suckle your skin and leaving blooms of red in their wake.

Your handmaidens politely ignored them; they never mentioned these love bites that now littered your body, nor the post-coital scent that hung heavy on your sheets despite your husband being away on whatever errand commanded by his king brother. Your changed disposition could not help but be noticed by the courts with the rose flush to your features from your smile and the soft glimmer in your eyes.

Aegon was bold with his coy tactics whenever you were within arm’s reach, silently relishing in your reactions; his childish teasing, catching your fingers and bringing them to his mouth for a kiss. The touch would jolt through you, the softness of his lips rekindling a warmth in your core and spilling the red onto your features. 

Your scarlet hues would push him further–as Aegon was known to do–and he would place his wide palm on your lower back, leaning until his lips tickled your ear with his whispered compliments for you to hear alone. 

And you bloomed in response with every word spoken, every touch from the king. It slowly chipped away from the bitter memory of what had brought you two together, of how you caught your husband between the thighs of the queen. 

This bitter thought returned was soothed away by the hands of your handmaidens this night; they plaited your still damp hair to allow your curls to set overnight, then helped you dress in a silk nightgown and robe. You dismissed them, returning to your quarters, your slippered feet padding quick and quiet against the cobblestone with hurried steps to escape the night’s cool air flowing through the corridors of the Keep. 

You half expected to find your room empty, half hoping that perhaps the king would be awaiting you with his roguish, wine-stained grin, but instead you found your husband. 

Aemond was seated in one of the plush velvet chairs that faced the fireplace, its amber color casting shadows across his sharp features and pursed lips. His one arm was bent, his fingers pressed to the jut of his chin in contemplation while his other hand held onto a goblet that was filled with the Dornish wine your handmaidens would leave for your nightcap. 

“Good evening, ābrazȳrys.”

Wife. He did not look at you when he said his term of endearment, and you were aware of the acidity to his low timbre. “Lord husband,” and you forced yourself into the room, closing the door behind you. “I…was unaware that you had returned. I had not expected you tonight.” 

Aemond only hummed in response, peering down into the gilded cup before setting it on the end table. His every movement was fluid, precise, from how his long fingers wrapped around the armrests to push himself to stand upright, and turning on his heel to face you. 

Your breath hitched when you noticed that he was not wearing his eyepatch. You wished to fall back a step, away from his heady, bicolored gaze, but instead your arms knotted beneath your chest, pulling your robe tight over your curves and squaring off towards him. 

His expression was almost unreadable, perhaps amused or agitated, something that was precariously balancing on the edge of a blade. “I returned this evening. I thought it best to come and fulfill what is expected of us,” his low voice continued, his brow raised. “Ābrazȳrys.”

Oh. 

As man and wife, of course it would be expected that you two would continue to couple until the fruition of a silver haired babe. Aegon, however, had seen Aemond to be sent away, to serve as a diplomat for a neighboring kingdom which allowed you to be swept away with your royal dalliance. But you also assumed that when Aemond inevitably returned, that he would go back to Helaena’s embrace just as you found him on that fateful night. 

And with that the bitter thought returned with its muted vengeance, the vision of the glistening exertion across Aemond’s back and shoulders as he purposefully kneeled between the thighs of the queen–his sister–

You bit the inside of your cheek, a stilted shuddered response, your own thighs clenching as a warmth washed over you from his gaze, but your eyes dropped and you obediently moved towards the bed. The robe was discarded and fluttered to the ground, the mattress sinking with your weight as you climbed to lay back in your clean chemise and nothing more. You took a deep breath and then rucked the silk up around your hips. 

Your husband, if anything, had always shown consideration until completion since your wedding night. You had been informed of your fortune that his touch was never abrasive, but almost cautious, that he was mindful of your every small sound and how he would dutifully respond. It was enjoyable enough, a godsend in comparison to the hushed horrors shared amongst the ladies of the court… but this was before you learned of the passion that could be shared between the sheets. 

The blood rose to your features as you recalled that fateful night again and in detail, of what you had seen and what Aegon then showed you. You remembered the flutter of passion that trilled your spine watching your husband and how it emboldened you to dare kiss the king, that moment stemming from the torrid passion Helaena clearly felt, her voice echoing in your head…

“Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…” 

And now you laid, compliant and waiting for your husband to take his pleasure. There was a pregnant pause and your fingers played with the silk hem before your chin tilted to your chest to see Aemond at the end of the bed, his slender fingers quick to shed his upper layers. 

Your husband was handsome, it was undeniable, with the sinewy frame of muscle on his long and lithe form, the silver scars that decorated his alabaster skin that took a golden hue from the lighting of your room. His slacks hung low on his lips with lines that cut and disappeared beneath the waistline, where you could see the strain of his length outlined against the fabric. 

His hum brought your attention back to his steady gaze and you blushed while his satisfaction spilled into his perpetual smirk that always played on the curves of his lips. Aemond then reached forward until his large hands–even larger than his brother’s–wrapped around your ankles and he dragged you closer towards the edge of where he still stood. 

The movement jarred you and you could not help your startled noise, his name caught on your tongue, “Aem–” and you were burning from where his hands held you, from the fire in his veins.  

You were closer now, with your legs bent and knees up, your feet pressing to anchor you from falling over the edge. The air was cool against your cunt shown and Aemond tilted his head to take in the sight, another appreciative hum at your lewd display. His hand moved to one of your knees, and he leaned over with the spill of silver that curtained both sides of his face, his eye careful to watch your reaction as his other hand moved between your thighs. 

His touch elicits a soft noise from you, his gentle touch at your entrance where your wetness pooled allowing him to glide upwards towards the bundle of nerves that bloomed above. You bit your lip to muffle yourself, but Aemond was still peering at you, his lips curling upwards with how your body was responding.  

“W-what are you doing?” You are breathless with your question.

There is a glint, an emotion that plays across his face, something fleeting that comes and goes with your heart beat, its rapid pace growing with his ministrations. “I am only fulfilling my marital duties,” his low timbre answered you.

Your blood now boils in your veins, the rising reds to your skin showing, though your features are frozen from his deliberate choice of words. Your heart is now bruising against your ribcage as you recalled the exchange you had with the king, his pitying tone when he asked you:

“Is your husband not fulfilling his marital duties?” 

You had said nothing then, and you are quiet now until another gasp steals your breath as Aemond’s fingers map between before his lips follow. You press up to your elbows for the sight, the blanket of silver that shimmers with his motion as his hot mouth consumes you. You fall back again, fistfuls of linen, and your pleasure building at the base of your spine, the sparks that flutter to and from your nerve endings, and your thighs begin to tremble as it pushes against your seams. 

There is a pressure as his slender finger curls within, another that follows in tandem with the come hither curl pushing against that sweet spot and stars burst before your vision. You are breathless, tears pearling and spilling at the corners of your eyes with each crest of pleasure and you only wish to cry out, a sobbed release.

And he stops, still knuckle deep in your warmth, your cunt clenching in desperation for your release. “Not yet, ābrazȳrys,” and his exhale against the wetness causes you to shudder. 

You whimper at the dull ache left as he withdraws his digits, his hand pushing to stand and freeing his member over the loosened waistband. Your eyes widen at the sight, its heavy sway as he moves to climb and his simultaneous, languid pumps from his hand that glistens with your arousal. 

The bed dips. “Please, Aemond–” you beg, you gasp again with his weight on top of you, slotting himself between your legs, and you can feel him pressed against the inside of your thigh. 

His elbow presses by your head, his hand covering your mouth to shush you while the other moves between to line himself with your entrance. Your gasp is muffled against his palm, your nails biting into his shoulders as his hips rock to sheath fully into your wet cunt. 

Your walls still pulse from your deprived release and his head dips into the curve of your neck, a low groan against your skin. Your impatience spills, lifting your legs to knit around his slender waist and pulling him closer; he responds, rutting against you, a solid pace that pounds into you, until his hip bones begin to bruise against your skin. 

You writhe beneath him, his thrusts stoking your passion anew and your blood rushing to intimately stain your body. You feel the pleasure pulling at your core, unbridled, and your velvet walls flutter again…

And Aemond pulls away, snapping back with such force to break the hold of your legs around, his hand coming to pump his length until ropes of pearly spend spill onto your stomach, your thighs, your silk still bunched around your upper body. 

You choke on your frustration, your vision blurred as you push to your elbows once again, chest heaving. “Aemond,” your exasperation pours from you, choked on the tears that brim. 

Aemond is wordless as he tucks himself away and grabs for his shirt and tunic; his slender fingers are just as quick to dress again, albeit a bit disheveled with the muss of his silver hair spilling over his shoulders. 

He then looks at you, his jaw clenches and then relaxes as his perpetual smirk returns. “Perhaps you should ask our devoted king to sate your appetite, ābrazȳrys.”

And then he leaves you, bare and alone.

arcie's masterlist

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @aemondx @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @snowprincesa1 @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @namelesslosers

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Red Horn ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: devils are contract workers - simply offer them a payment that they can never refuse, and your problems would be taken care of. the only thing is, what could a mere human possibly offer to a devil?

pairing: devil!jeonghan x innocent!reader (gn afab)

genre: fantasy, supernatural | smut, pwp

tags: flirting, food mention, office | bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, if there's a term for jeonghan fucking you with one of his devil horns please tell me, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms...

wc: 5.4k

message from nu: this took me super long to write, but this has to be one of my favorites. special thank you to xan @aceofvernons and june @junkissed for keeping me company while I worked on the fic. I hope you all enjoy reading - nu <3

In the distance, the elevator dings sharp and clear, its ring piercing through the reception lounge as its large plum-colored crystal doors open with a rumble. Even when you sit facing away from the reception desk, you can imagine the receptionist greeting the incomer with their monotonous voice, drawling out the same script they gave to you – jet black orbs staring at you judgmentally while you try to scribble your personal information on the forms as fast as you can.

A large Prometheus-type creature in the seat across from you whimpers when its name is called, head hunched and practically trembling with every stride toward the smiling attendant. Open space in front of you, you can see through the large glass windows the hundreds of skyscrapers and verdant greenery where feet touch the ground under the red sky. This place is but a stretch, an affected area of Hell – at least for those who are not native. Even this lounge, untouched coffee bar with expensive Keurig models, circa 1920s sleek leather Barcelonas, and low mid-century style coffee tables with old filled-in Highlights magazines as table decorations, is deceiving in its own way. Because, if it wasn’t clear enough, all of you are in Hell.

Sharp teeth chattering, long tails thumping in anxiety, and sheepish whimpers, the atmosphere in what could be a beautiful place is filled with layers of dread and fear. You sit in your chair, right hand brought to your lips, while slowly peeling the layers of chipped skin off your lips, the light sweater you wore in the morning feeling as heavy as a weighted blanket. Flicking away the loose pieces to the floor a few inches away from your fuzzy teddy bear slippers, you slink further into your seat with thoughts of what could possibly come next weighing you down.

You wanted it. Correction. You still want it, even when the soft jazz playing from the speakers barely masks the distant screams and screeches that echo throughout the many halls and floors in the building. So desperate to have your need fulfilled you would even beg a devil, the devil, for even an ounce of that fulfillment.

So, when a siren with beautiful wings adorned with brown speckled feathers calls your name, you answer with a squeak and scramble to meet them in the corridor of one of the halls where they wait patiently for you with a kind smile on their face. The creature’s feathers ruffle as it elegantly struts down the bright corridor, passing various framed artworks and accolades, a file folder nestled under the crook of its left wing. Too deep in your mind, nitpicking at your outfit choice and squeaky voice whenever you answer the siren’s small talk, you fail to even notice that it isn’t the usual demon who is walking you to their office.

And the office, matte black large double doors that seem to aggrandize the more you stare at it, seems to you the most daunting thing you’ve ever experienced, dreading what’s on the other side of the doors. The doors automatically swing open when the siren approaches, and a rich puff of aroma fills your senses – strongly smoked tea leaves, spices, and aged tannin from the great oak trees you spent your vacations under during summer camps. Immersive, sultry, powerful…frightening.

The creature beckons you to follow them inside, the doors slamming shut when you enter the threshold. If you were dreading the office's interior - perhaps a grotesque chamber too scary to imagine, then the reality only confuses you. Plush gray Persian rug you’re too scared to step on, mahogany desk sitting at the end of the room, a large fish tank built into one of the walls big enough to hold a shark. It would look like a standard luxury CEO office if it weren’t for the shelves of trinkets from collectible matchbooks to eyeless Sylvanian Family figures to mysterious chained and muffled floating orbs that stand behind the desk.

Taking a seat in front of the desk, you watch the siren slowly stalk behind the desk, perching itself in the leather executive chair to rifle through the files with its back turned towards you. Your hands find each other in your lap, folded together, the right thumb twiddling with the left. It is awfully quiet, and the atmosphere is just as bad as it was in the lounge. No part of you wants to spark a conversation, afraid that the slightest conversation error could send you on a one-way ticket into the depths of hell. Does their boss know they are sitting in their boss’ seat?

However, when the leather chair turns around, you see a man frowning at what you assume to be your file – your attendant long gone. He flicks away his remaining brown feathers, letting his disguise dissipate into thin air while craning his head to the left and right to stretch his neck. A tri-toned nameplate appears at the front of his messy desk, deep burgundy red with a black center dark enough that you could mistake it for a void. Written in gold is the name “Yoon Jeonghan,” and in a smaller font underneath is his official title.

The devil, as the plate reads, cocks an eyebrow at you through his long curtain bangs, causing you to take a craven stance – wincing and lowering your head so you don’t meet his eyes. Taking a page out of the file, he presses it against the desk and slides the page towards you, twisting it with his long nimble fingers in one smooth motion so the words face you upright.

“You summoned me via a crocheted sweater, a three-year-old three-wick seasonal autumnal candle that smells like pumpkin pie, and a tiny crushed packet of Prince Noodles you found at the back of your snack cabinet?” His voice is light and airy, but the terrifying smoothness and the seemingly innocuous nature of his tone only deceive the listener – he is a creature filled with malice and iniquity.

Slamming his palm against the table, he drags the page towards himself, creasing it with the strength and anger he exerts. The slapping sound causes you to flinch, and your eyes continue to stay trained on your lap, the shrill sound of the slap still ringing in your ears.

“Look at me,” he commands you in a low tone, a voice dipped in a thick vat of bubbling tar. “Summoning me with trash? Do I look like a joke to you?”

Scared you might combust into flames the moment you look at him, yet too scared to defy his command, you slowly lift your head to look at the man sitting across from you for the first time.

If his verbal command isn’t enough to evoke fear in the most draconian demons, perhaps his physical properties - his presence and his chiseled facial structure - command creatures differently. Dark brown eyes and thin-lipped, bottom lip slick and catching the light after he runs his tongue over it while scoffing at you, you have to admit the devil is strikingly handsome in his features. Pure sybarite from the decoration of his office to the decorations he wears, he outfits himself in leather garb. Fashionable thick leather blazer with a belt cinched around the waist, a silver chain dangles around his neck, sparkling in hues of red. And the horns that sit at the top of his head, dark crimson red with the shine of the waxy Red Delicious apples that stack in a pyramid under bright supermarket lights. Elephant tusk-like: thick, curved, and blunt. You wonder what it would feel like if he…

He appears before you in an instant, sitting at the edge of his desk, leaning over, and sandwiching you between his towering frame and the back of your chair. With an apparent smirk on his face, he enjoys watching you practically whimper underneath him, trembling in your seat. Irises expanding in size at exponential speeds is a clear tell, a giveaway of your need for him.

“You’re scared of me.” He points out with much effrontery while cocking his head, his face a mere few inches away from yours. He leans back with his arms crossed, planting himself firmly against his desk. “But you’re the one who summoned me, wanting to make a deal with me, right? So, no matter how scared you are of me, you’re still the boss and I’m your contract worker.”

“Contract worker?”

You can’t believe his words. He is agreeing to your stupid little request that you thought could never be fulfilled. Summoning a demon? Summoning the devil? It sounds like a quirky group activity to do at middle school sleepovers.

“You mean why did I agree to your request?”

You quickly nod your head in response.

“I’m a man with needs. And you’re a little angel who was brave enough to offer me a deal. It’s an obscene request that nobody of your kind has offered me for centuries - although, the last one perished with my touch…but you wouldn’t lie to me, right? Sweetheart?” He almost bats his long eyelashes with the pet name, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The scene shifts almost theatrically – morphing from Jeonghan’s office to the tiny bedroom you were in about an hour ago. It seems real. All of it. The same putrid orange floorboards with dark knots that look like stains, hanging on the wall is a single bronze circular mirror your navy curtains slap against when the wind blows. You’re sitting in the middle of your bed, the old lumpy mattress you’ve been using since elementary school covered with the white checkered duvet set you found for free on some second-hand site. On the floor by the foot of the bed is a tiny space you made by pushing your jackets and plastic bags away, saved for summoning Jeonghan. Now, all that is left is soot, the Prince Noodles wrapper, and a now-stretched hand-made sweater.

Fucker. He is keeping the candle.

“It’s your first time so I can make you feel more comfortable – play on your turf. But the question is, can you take it? Can you take all of me? We can break it down into several sessions.” His suggestive tone is almost warmhearted. It almost makes you forget this is the first time you’ve met him. 

This situation would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that you’re talking to the devil. You don’t know if he’s the type to laugh at bad jokes, but you weren’t going to test your hypothesis. 

“No,” you tell him. There’s only one thing on your mind. “One time.”

“You don’t realize what ‘all at once’ means, do you?”

Granted, if this were any other day with any other person, you would’ve faltered when this type of question kisses your ears. Doe-eyed, you watch him while sitting at the edge of your bed, a tiny nod in motion that makes him smile at you. The outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and he almost seems like a college boyfriend-esque type visiting your room for the first time - kind and patient, yet filled with corrupt thoughts.

He takes a seat next to you and proceeds to unbuckle the belt that cinches his waist. You’re too shy to stare at him while he undresses, but you can hear very clearly his garments hitting the floor one after another. The end of soft thuds and crinkles and a cool touch that turns your face to his, he holds your face in the palm of his right hand. So tender, yet his intentions are clearly laid out in the open.

“Why don’t you show me what pretty outfit you’re hiding underneath your sweater so I can show you what I mean?” his voice low, sending vibrations down to your core.

What you reveal underneath is a dainty two-piece. Thin lavender silk trim and clear organza with embroidered pastel flower details accentuate the cups that cover your breasts. The bottom matches the top, pulled high to your waistline. He hisses, forked tongue appearing for a split second before disappearing again.

“Contrary to what humans believe,” he mutters while holding one of your hands in his. “Angels don’t exist in this world. But at this moment…” He pushes a strand of hair away from your face, a subtle yet intimate gesture. He’s doing his best to prepare you for the worst without scaring you off, and you can’t help but to cling to him and seek refuge in his assuagement. “You’re the only Angel in front of me.”

Now you can see them more clearly. Dark brown eyes with bright specks of gold only a mere few inches away from yours. It makes you wonder how someone as beautiful as he can become the Devil. But he leaves no time for you to spare as he dips and plants his lips against yours. And you reciprocate with ardor, leaning back onto the bed as he changes his position so he is hovering, towering above you. His kisses are slow, focusing on making you feel good. Supple lips against your hot skin, he nips and licks at your flesh, leaving discolored hues of claret and magenta, him ravaging your untouched purity. And he takes the lead, grabbing your hands so they hug his neck so you can press him closer to you when you feel like it.

And you do. It excites you when learning how your body automatically reacts to him in need and lust: pulling him into your chest while feeling his soft skin rub against your lingerie, speeding up your kisses, and whining when you want more. He only smirks when he pulls away, looking at you from above and seeing your plump swollen lips and sexual frustration scintillating in your eyes. Your first hickeys on your neck and chest look like the beginnings of the first fallen leaves in the suburbs during Autumn. And you feel him grow against your core, a firm ball that waits to be unleashed with its owner’s command.

“Will my Angel be good for me?” He looks up at you while he traces the dainty straps that wrap around your skin, his pointer finger swirling around the yellow intricate embroidered flower that barely covers your nipple. The tip of the finger flicks against your rosy bud, and the feeling sends vibrations and shivers straight to your core. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you barely manage to whisper. “I’ll be good.”

“Then I’ll make you feel good.”

He bends down to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as if to mitigate any of your worries or concerns. But, strangely enough, you don’t. What is left behind in the trek to his office is replaced with new feelings of greed that you desperately want to have fulfilled during your nights alone. And the man who kisses down your body, pleasing you and praising you for reacting so well to his touch, seems multifarious enough to fulfill everything you dreamed about in secret.

When he reaches your core, it’s already uncomfortably wet. He seems to pay no mind as he pries away the lily embroidery that covers your cunt, cool finger briefly brushing against your skin to reveal your tender flesh that throbs underneath his gaze. Jeonghan starts slowly, prying your thighs apart with both of his hands. Firm grip on your skin, you whimper when he frowns at you for trying to shy away. Then you feel his lips planting pecks along your left inner thigh, making his way to your slick. 

If the way he kisses you is nothing but a lust-filled way of overcoming his workload, stress, and greed, then the way he eats you out is the complete opposite. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t dive in head first after pushing you into the deep end; he holds your hand while guiding you into the pool, letting you adjust to the temperature of the water before swimming after him. Laps you up with the flat side of his tongue, long licks around your inner folds and swirls your core like a whirlwind, Jeonghan tsks when you start to close your thighs around his head without thinking. While telling you to behave, the low growl making you almost come on the spot, he pries your thighs apart. 

Firm grip and fingers digging into your skin, the Devil presses his tongue against the area you often frequented yourself at night, never thinking the day would come when someone else is able to visit. Forked tongue draws a heart down your slick, zigzags, paddles, and swims in your juices. It feels like two tongues are working you at once, and it makes you come twice as fast, your fingers gripping the bed sheets and your body jolting upwards. Supple lips close around where you feel the most sensitive, and he eats you out in a way that tells you that you would never be able to experience something like this in the future - not with him and definitely not with anybody else.

“Aah-ah fuck Jeonghan.” You squirm while he keeps his pace, wet sounds from beneath you filling your little room while he cleans up your aftermath. “Want more.”

“Aww my little Angel wants more?” He temporarily detaches his face from your cunt, red swollen lips glistening and glossed with your cum, to smirk at you. “Why don’t you look at me and beg for it?”

But he’s meticulous with continuously making you feel good. In the absence of his tongue, he replaces the emptiness with his fingers. Rubbing your nub in between his thumb and pointer finger, the Devil uses his other hand to rub himself - his hands prepping his long and pink organ. It takes a choked sob emitting from your mouth and your eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even begin to think about looking him in the eye. And when you finally look him dead in the eye and trail to his raging member while letting out what he thinks are the prettiest and most deceivingly innocent whines, he finally understands your cupidity. 

So he thrusts his digits in your core, your panties now magically disappearing when he could’ve shrugged them off ages ago. Two long fingers fill your virgin hole, he scissors them while feeling your warm flesh contrast in reaction to his cold skin. Pointer fingers hook around your spongy G-spot, and he uses it as a sort of pulley, pulling him into you while your stomach tightens and squeezes with every quiver of his finger. You feel yourself soak his fingers, running down into his palms. He catches every drop with his tongue, licking his hands clean and then moving on to your cunt as he continues to finger you thoroughly.

He pulls his fingers apart, creating an opening to stick his tongue in you. Tonguing you, he savors your sweetness, sucking and thrusting his tongue deeper into you while he slides his fingers in and out of you. He fills you up until he runs out of room. You feel so corrupted, never expecting any person to make you feel so dirty, disgusting, yet so well-handled at the same time. You lust for more, to feel more as he smirks against your sex and reaches his open hand upwards to grab your breast. It feels plush and soft when he kneads it in between his fingers. Simply flicking his thumb over your sensitive nub sends shockwaves down to your core, and he surfaces with your cum dripping down his chin.

“How are you feeling?” he asks you, briefly leaning upwards to catch your lips in his mouth. “Can you take more? That was just to warm you up. Are you ready for me?” he mumbles against your lips.

The taste of yourself sits prominently in his mouth. You can taste yourself as you exchange another kiss with him, slowly winding down from your high.

“I- I want to try more.” You hear yourself openly admitting while he leaves tiny pecks along your collarbone. “It felt good.”

“Just good?” He looks up at you in feigned confusion. “Come on honey, I didn’t fuck you dumb just yet. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to come up with better adjectives. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You gasp when he moves away from your cover to latch his lips around your nipple. “I cam- I think I came several times, but I’m still horny.” The last part comes out in a sort of whisper as if you’re afraid you would be caught by somebody if you ever admitted to being horny out loud.

“Mmm.” He groans with your tit in his mouth. “Mmf. Nothing wrong with being horny. And you did come. Several times…but are you ready to come more?”

“Yes.” You’re feeling more confident. “I’m ready for more.”

“Even if I have to tie you down?” He pushes himself up so he kneels in front of you. “I’m afraid your human body can’t take what I’m about to give you.”

“I want to try,” you reply. “‘All at once,’ remember?”

“Okay Angel.” He smiles, leaning over to put his hand behind your head to bring you upright. “All at once.”

Your face is so close to his body that you can smell the muskiness of his sex. Right in front of you is his member. It’s your first time seeing one this closely, red and stiff, and a tiny bead of precum that rolls off the tip. You wonder how it would feel in the palm of your hands, how you would be able to fit all of it in your mouth.

“Take a good look at it, Angel. Touch it or suck it if you want,” his voice is gentle yet mischievous. “Don’t be scared. I can guide you. Take your chances before I spend the rest of our time disappearing in your cunt.”

Hesitantly, you bring your lips closer to his tip, opening your mouth wide enough so your lips close around the head. It’s smooth like a cool cherry-flavored popsicle on a hot summer day, yet there’s a certain softness to the organ. You stare up at him with his head in your mouth, and he simply nods, thrusting forward a little to tell you that you can continue. 

A tiny lick causes him to flinch and then gasp, his eyes fluttering as you lick him again more confidently. He breathes out a groan when you place a hand on his waist while the other grabs his length. Closing your eyes, you hollow your cheeks and guide him in and out of your mouth, sucking and licking as you go. 

And the raging and tantalizing ache in him can’t help but to grow and extend along his erection, growing hot in his stomach as he looks down at you trying your best to suck his dick. It makes him feral knowing that he’s your first - the first to corrupt you, to coat your thick and swollen lips with your saliva and his precum, and to watch you as you clench your thighs while sucking him off. Just thinking about your request and actually seeing you try to fit him in your mouth without gagging intoxicates him and makes his mind fuzzy. But before he can begin to process his dick hitting the cold air, he feels your mouth latch around one of his testicles, gently sucking while your hand kneads the other, and your other hand continues to pump him in your mouth’s absence. 

This time, he sees you wide-eyed and staring right at him. And when your eyes roll to the back of your head, he immediately snaps and spasms - shooting white liquid all over the bed sheets. 

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

Repositioning himself over your naked body, he wipes away a few splatter marks on your face and reapplies it to your open lips. It’s hard to concentrate on the new salty taste when the Devil is staring intently into your eyes while his hands roam your body, touching and flicking. 

He asks you about punishments for making him come without warning - something about how he should prolong your virginity, a concept that you wanted him to take away. 

…it’s just a social construct used to belittle others, the contract states. But if anybody is going to take it away, then it has to be the Devil himself. 

“This might hurt a little,” he tells you. 

Invisible ropes drag your hands above your head and tie your thighs to your bed. Making sure you’re secure Jeonghan quips, “In case you try to run away.”

You can barely see what he’s doing from your angle. His dick is slowly becoming hard again, so you think he’s going to eat you out in the meantime. But nothing can prepare you for what comes next. 

It feels cold and warm, a long tubular shape slowly digging and nudging itself into your cunt. Yet, you don’t feel the same wetness you felt when he stuck his tongue in your cunt. The figure pulls in and out, sliding and squelching with every thrust. Your mouth drops open, letting tiny soundless exhales fall out of your mouth. A burning sensation builds up at the bottom of your stomach, causing you to lurch and struggle against your binds. Jeonghan only chuckles from underneath you, his face shrouded by his hair. It’s only when he pushes deep, causing you to yell his name when you realize the object he pushes into you. 

What fucks your cunt in a steady rhythm is the same crimson red, elephant-tusk-like horn that sits on top of Jeonghan’s head. He slightly turns his head so the thick and curved object hits you in the right spot, causing you to struggle, moan, and breathe heavily. 

“What a twisted angel,” Jeonghan grunts. “You didn’t think I would be able to read your thoughts? You didn’t think the Devil would be able to listen in on every single dirty thought that came across that pretty little head of yours?”

“Fuck. P-please Jeonghan,” you whine through gritted teeth. “Want your dick.” 

“No.” His tone is flat. “I’m not horny yet. Hearing you whine and mewl about how good I make you feel ”

“N-No,” you manage to say. “Can’t wh-whine if you’re choking me.”

Your invitation causes him to immediately pull out of you, therefore causing you to lurch forward with a gasp and fall back down when you’re stopped by your binds. It’s a lot clearer now, his wet red horn and the hair matted down by your juices. Still, there is nothing that could make the man in front of you become an eyesore. 

He’s objectifyingly beautiful - now not as downright terrifying as you thought him to be. Your little push of confidence, although a bit passive, goes a long way as he bends down once again to catch you between his lips, kissing you feverishly as his left hand slowly works its way to loop around your neck. 

It’s a new feeling, feeling the pressure of his palm against your neck. The pressure is light - not how Jeonghan would’ve liked to choke you, but enough so the concept doesn’t scare you away. Gently squeezing the sides of your esophagus, Jeonghan removes his lips from yours so he can see you clearly. Chin lifted up and your eyes glossed over, you seem to him to be needier than ever. He watches you as your struggle against his invisible binds, hips thrusting in the air. 

“Please Jeonghan.” You struggle against his hand. “Please. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Please-”

“Beg.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I’m begging. Please.”

He adds a little more pressure around your esophagus, making you struggle and almost come on the spot. “More.”

“W-want t-to see your pre- ah fuck pretty face lose its beauty when you bend over me while fucking me hard. I want you to be mean to me and pull my hair so my back arches while you pound into me from behind. Make my thighs quiver and tremble as my knees go red. Use me until I’m left with nothing but tears.”

“I can make you cry.” He lets go of your throat, tsk-ing at the fading soft pink imprint left behind on your skin. “But not in the way you described…You’ll be leaking from somewhere else, Angel.”

You breathe his words in like an airy aphrodisiac, filling your lungs and clouding your brain with blissful jubilation. But the tears. The tears fall when he slowly pushes into you, cooing and soothing you while you cling onto him, fingernails digging red welts into his bare back while you struggle to adjust to his size. The stinging pain feels like no other, but fuck does it feel good to have him inside you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he bends over you and whispers in your ear, “Keep tightly clenching around me before I can properly fuck you and you’ll never be able to leave Hell. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply, hissing when he pulls back.

Then he starts pushing slowly back into you, savoring how your walls etch and hug his ridges, savoring how your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head in response to your pleasure. Another thrust, faster this time. He plagues you with need, making you practically fuck him yourself by angling your legs on the bed so you can push yourself into him over and over again. He pinches your nipple in anger, but it only sends a lewd string of pain straight to your core. You find it pleasurable, your nerves heightened to a new level. 

So he puts his hands around your waist and tells you his name again - because that’s the only thing you’ll remember after he’s done with you. 

He ruts into you over and over again, harshly and quickly. The only sounds filling your tiny bedroom are your hiccups that complement the sound of his skin slapping against yours. Your whole body jerks and rocks with every thrust, your bed no longer standing in the same place, now slightly askew. He doesn’t even give you time to recover when you cum on his cock, your belly tightening, releasing, and then tightening again in a matter of a few seconds. 

“Whore,” he sneers. “Look at you, all fucked out underneath me. You can’t help but come multiple times, can you?”

He rubs your clit while pounding into you, watching you writhe in pleasure underneath him, very well unable to respond to his rhetorical question. 

“And you want me to pound into you from behind?” He mockingly laughs out loud. “All that talk but you can’t even form a word. Form a word then. Try forming a word before I cum.” 

But another wave swells in your abdomen, causing you to jerk forward in reaction. Your body feels sweaty and sore, but the pleasure rolls in waves - building in you and ejecting out of you like a consistent ebb and flow. Every single bite, flick, and word that comes out of him only breaks you even more. And you topple like a house of cards, reduced to nothing but his personal fucktoy. 

He chases his own orgasm when he feels like it, pushing into you deeply and thrusting one last time by hitting your walls so he can slowly milk his seed as he rolls his hips. And when he pulls out, he watches his liquid slowly collect at your entrance, threatening to spill out. Your body still twitches in his absence, your aftershocks squeezing and making his seed drip and run out of you. 

Your eyes are blurry, body is sore with tiny cartoonish stars floating and rotating above your head. You can’t expect the Devil to stay. He had done enough for you, more than you could ever imagine. It takes everything in you to bring yourself to whisper his name one last time before you feel him leave your side. 

On the floor where you summoned him is an invitation to summon him again:

Whenever you’re ready. He writes. I’ll make you crawl. -YJH, The Devil

[argisthebulwark]

I'd Die A Drunk, I'd Die For You

summary: Lucky you, you're his emergency contact! Unlucky for you, there's been an emergency. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Brynjolf, Balimund, Vilkas, Cicero warnings: explicit depictions of blood & injury, alcohol consumption masterlist

Farkas

You are absolutely fucking terrified when the guards knock on your door. Sunrise is only a few hours off yet you'd hardly slept, putting off rest until you got a handle of your work. Recruitment requests, work orders, summons from the Jarl, orders for new bedding and maintenance for the hall... sleep simply doesn't fit into your schedule. Everything else falls away when you hear that Farkas is hurt. The guard has hardly finished speaking before you're rushing out the door, snatching a coat over your pajamas and slippers falling off your chilly feet when you hustle through Whiterun. Your mind conjures up awful scenarios that turn your stomach while you're tripping up all those damned steps. Bursting into Jorrvaskr hardly draws any attention. Companions and priests scurry around where Farkas is laid out across the grand table, bloodied linens clutched to his wounds while Vilkas barks orders. Your heart sinks when Farkas spots you, eyes unfocused but grinning. Bandaged fingers beckon you closer and you shuffle toward him, sinking to your knees. "What did you do?" Fat tears roll down your cheeks when you comb through the mess of his hair. Farkas' hand rests on your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed when he sucks in a sharp breath. "Made it home. Just like I promised." He smiles again, trying to cover up the pain with humor. "Don't tell Vilkas you're my emergency contact - 'fraid he'd lecture us both." "You were supposed to come back in one piece." You swipe at the blood drying on his cheek, desperate for a sense of normalcy. The fact that you could be losing him chokes out all rational thought. "Tried my best." He pants, face flushed as Athis mumbles about a dislocated shoulder. "Don't worry - it's not that bad, I'll be fixed up in no time." "You're bleeding all over the table." "Not the first time." His laugh is rough but offers you a touch of comfort. "Probably not the last time, either."

Brynjolf

Something has gone terribly wrong. A pair of guards knocking your door down sent your heart at a dangerous pace - they're at your home. You've been so careful to ensure that nothing ties your personal life to the Guild - had someone been caught? None of the recruits knew your real name and no one in your inner circle would ever rat you out. Their mention of Brynjolf's name wrenches you out of that spiral. You're nodding along to whatever they're saying, allowing them to escort you through Riften. Your skin feels too tight when you descend into the city's jail, too many eyes on you for comfort. They still haven't explained what the hell he did but if they know his real name it must be serious. Slumped against the stiff cot, Brynjolf grins up at you. His eyes shamelessly take in the mess of your crooked tunic and mismatched boots, cheeks flushed and looking far too relaxed for a man in a cell. He gazes at you, clearly ignoring the bloodied state of his knuckles. "Care to explain why the guards darkened my doorstep?" You seethe, paying no mind to his damned dimples. Now is not the time to let him distract you. "Ah, sorry love - put you down as my emergency call. Just in case they found me floatin' down the river." "And your hands?" "Heard some cunt talkin' about you in a less than savory way." He sighs, examining the clearly broken hand. You ignore the way your heart melts a bit. My hero." You deadpan, glad to see the guard fumbling through his keys. Brynjolf lurches forward, arm already around your shoulders before the guard's even finished opening his cell. "Knew I could count on you." You smell the alcohol on his breath when he leans closer, steadying himself on your shoulder. "You are going to pay me back for this." "Anythin' you want. Name it and 'ts yours."

Balimund

Mouth agape and blinking far too much, you try to process the question. Of course you know Balimund - why the hell is a nervous acolyte asking you this in the dead of night? They urge you toward the Temple of Mara, quite tight lipped and only telling you to hurry. You stumble up the steps, knees weak when you see him - the shirt is ripped away from his torso, injured arm laid out and surrounded by priests. The yellowish glow of healing magicka emits from their cupped hands but you see it; red, angry burns climbing up toward his shoulder and blood drying on the shreds of his tunic. His eyes are squeezed shut as their hands ghost over his injuries, paying close attention to each wound. Acolytes flutter around offering aid, one dabbing sweat from Balimund's forehead while the other pours fresh water into a basin. "Oh, honey -" "It's fine." He grunts, eyes squeezed shut. You drag a chair near him, wishing so badly that you could take away the pain. "What happened? Why didn't you wake me?" "Didn't want to worry you." His good hand clutches yours, allowing you to hold it to your chest. "Tried to add more fire salts to the forge, guess I went a bit too fast." He winces, fingers tense around yours. "Glad you're here, though." You do what you can, keeping his attention away from the healers fretting over his arm. You swipe at the soot on his face and press kisses to his unharmed fingers, doing all that you can to keep his spirits up.

Vilkas

When the guards on your porch asked after your ex, you were petrified that Vilkas had been hurt. He must have come back bloodied from some mission, confused when they led you straight past the temple. The relief of him not being injured only lasts a moment before reality sinks in - something else is wrong. You gut continues to sink when you follow them past the steps of Jorrvaskr, hands shaking at your sides as an endless stream of questions bombard your mind. You haven't spoken for a few weeks, taking some time away from the Companions after the break up - how much trouble could they have caused in that amount of time? Vilkas had never been reckless with anyone else's life but you'd gotten sick of watching him risk his own. All thoughts cease when you see him. Dark eyes stare up at you, bruises blossoming over his cheek. His hair has grown longer than he likes and blood dries on his split lip. Despite all the issues you've had, the fights and distance that wrecked your relationship, your heart still flips when he smirks at you. "You look awful." You lie, ignoring those sharp teeth his grin exposes. It's terribly difficult to avoid the memory of how they feel on your skin. "Did you get in a fight?" "You look nice." He counters, seemingly unbothered. "Is that my shirt?" "Shut up or I will let you rot in here." You will not admit that it is absolutely his shirt you'd been sleeping in.

Cicero

"We found your name written on this man's arm. He won't talk - can you please come with us?" Oh, you're in for trouble. If one of your assassins had been caught and isn't sticking to the script drilled into each of your skulls it must be dire. Tying your real name to it can only make the situation worse. Simmering in your anger you prepare to lecture whoever was dense enough to get caught. You freeze upon realizing where you are - you aren't staring into a jail cell. Flanked by two guards you're standing in the middle of the Jarl's longhouse, their healer intensely focused on your Keeper. "Cicero." You swoop down, all pretense forgotten when you press a nervous hand to his forehead. His eyes flutter behind closed lids, familiar clothing torn and stained. You can only pray that the blood isn't his. "What happened?" "We found him crawling back to town. He wasn't making any sense but it looks like he was attacked." The guard pipes up, your stomach dropping at the thought. He'd only been gone a few days but you recall his parting words - finally feeling confident enough to take a job on his own, promising you that he doesn't need you watching his every move. "My love." You murmur, kissing at his clammy forehead. You've never seen Cicero so quiet, even in sleep he mumbles. This just feels wrong.

[joonipertree]

If you were taller than Mikey

Tags: fluff, smut, mentions of brat taming, one mention of calling him daddy, reader is a whiny baby (totally not a self insert) it's soft, I promise, D/s dynamic.

Whether you’re two inches taller or a head taller, this man will think it’s a crime against him. Because how dare you?? You’re his baby? You’re too cute to be taller than him?? HE should be tall, the world was just turning against him. 

“Mikey, you’re an adult, you can’t grow anymore.” 

“I will hang upside down if I want to!”

He refuses to let you tilt your head down, he gets on his toes (acting as if that wasn’t noticeable) and kisses you the first month of your relationship. But he melts instantly and doesn’t think much when you adjust your chin because he’s then attached to your lips for a good while. 

Stairs are his HEROES. He’ll do his best not to let you in on his schemes, stopping you a step or even two behind him so he can cup your face and have you look up at him with your pretty eyes. His kisses are always tender then, sticky and hot before you guys are either interrupted by one of your friends (he does not give a shit, he will kiss you in front of everyone, they can fuck right off.) or you remind him that you guys had places to be.

He always presses soft kisses on your forehead and hair, whispering about how sweet you are. 

If his friends ever tease him about the stairs, he glares at them (ineffective) or throws a slipper (sometimes it hits their face and sometimes it’s caught and not returned. He just takes off the other, holds your hand and pulls you forward)

Hills are useful for the same reason, he frequently pulls you towards the more sloped areas of the city, just so he can pepper kisses all over your face and bite your lip. One time he just took you there when no one was around and did that for a good thirty minutes before you whined that your feet were getting tired. He would smooch that pout right off of your face. 

At one point he tried wearing heels and they worked! But he hated every second of it. Even if it was an inch or two taller, he would complain how uncomfortable they were. He’d be stubborn for five minutes before letting you pry it off his feet and replace it with his flat ones. 

The bed is the most convenient because it’s comfortable and he can scooch upwards so your head was in the crook of his neck. But he didn’t always do it because resting his cheek against your chest to hear your heartbeat was his favorite. Plus he can press kisses there as well or suck on the skin to mark you.

If you took selfies, be prepared to crouch so he can look taller, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and cheek pressed against your head. You sitting against his chest was also perfect! Because his chin would just be on your shoulder and no one could tell.

In all honesty, chances are if you are taller he still feels bigger.

His presence is wide enough to swallow anyone who would try to hurt you, he has never not been intimidating to his rivals.  And his hands are always so big when they hold your face, long fingers trailing gently along your cheek. 

Or when they pump in and out of your hole, grinning while you whine at him.

And he’s the one who holds you down while he’s on top of you, not letting you move an inch as he overstimulates you to filth

And yeah you’re taller but you fit right over his lap when he spanks you for misbehaving. He doesn’t seem that small now, right? :( With how easily he can manhandle you and keep you in place with one hand while the other grabs, squeezes and reddens your poor ass. 

And you’re definitely too tiny for his cock :( It’s too thick for you to handle, fills you up so well until you’re whiny and crying. And when he bounces you on his cock, you can’t help notice his big strong shoulders that you cling to. They would flex when you would dig your nails into them, and block your vision when he’s above you.

You think you’re too tall? Does it really matter when he has you pressed against a wall, nipping at your neck as you mewl little pretty moans and take him like a good baby.

And you are a good baby, he lets you know. He coos and mimics your cute sounds, pouts with you and goes faster when you tell him it’s too much. 

I don’t think you understand that to him, you’re tiny. To him, you’re just his little one that needs cuddles and a good fuck to be able to sleep.

And when you lay on your stomach, he’s the one pressing kisses against your nape. He’s the one praising you, telling how well you did. He’s the one hushing and cooing at you, pressing a water bottle against your lips and pecking your nose just to see it wrinkle and for a giggle to escape you.

He’s the one who always calls you baby, who takes charge in kisses and keeps you close for the sake of it. 

He’s the one you look up at when you need comfort and safety. He’s the one who you curl into for those things.

He’s the one you call Daddy when it’s just the two of you. 

He’s the one who handles the brattiness you have, the one who fucks it out of you and the one who uses his low voice to make sure you behave. 

He’s the one you love and it’s okay if he’s shorter because really, it never mattered. 

[strlingsav]

Drive: Six

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Reader

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You blinked a few times, your attention grabbed by a knock at your door. You groaned, pulling your eyes from staring at the TV, to eyeing the door. Standing to your feet, you trudged to answer it.

Your slippers hit the ground as you neared the door, wrapping your blanket over your shoulders to draw in more warmth.

Pulling the door open, your eyes met with a familiar face- Simon. You sighed, reaching to slam the door when his foot stepped forward and caught it before it could close. You ignored it, making your way back to the couch where you sat down with a huff.

"You ain't been answerin' my calls," He said, moving forward to enter your apartment. "Thought I'd check in."

He idled, unlike him, and searched your apartment with awkward eyes- full of unspoken emotions and feelings that he'd been harbouring since your surgery. He lingered by the door, watching you curl up on your sofa in an attempt to drown him out.

"Thought I told you I don't need you here," You answered back, your eyes glued to the TV.

He sighed, slowly stepping toward the couch, where you'd practically lived for the last few months since being dismissed. You hadn't cooked a meal, done laundry- you'd hardly left the comfortable and inviting abyss for anything other than the bathroom and a shower.

"Yeah," He nodded. "Y'said that. I don't believe it."

You rolled your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest.

"If I wanted to hear from you, I'd have answered your calls." You met his gaze briefly, before shifting to stare at the screen.

"There was a time you were glad to hear from me. Glad to have me here."

"That was before you fucked up my career."

He paused, his brows furrowing. So much had changed between spending the night wrapped in his arms and now- hardly able to stand the sight of him. You'd found out about his insubordination not long after that night; in court, where you'd been honourably discharged following Price's report of the incident. It was only mercy on Price's behalf that you hadn't seen more severe consequences.

Simon, however, was too valuable. His experience, rank, knowledge- they couldn't let him go. Shepherd wouldn't allow it, and the task force would be scrambling without him. So instead, they let you go. Dissolved your contract and effectively made you a social pariah in the eyes of your teammates.

You never knew exactly what he'd confessed to. Was it the entirety of your relationship? The nearly year-long affair that you'd hidden from everyone, including your captain? Or did he only mention a few nights, a few mistakes?

"Savin' your life is fuckin' up your career?"

"I'd rather you have kept your mouth shut. I lost my job. I lost my dignity, the respect of my teammates. I don't even know what to do with myself now."

"You knew the risks goin' in, sweetheart. It ain't my fault you ain't happy with the consequences."

"Except it is- because if you'd done your job instead of worrying about me, I wouldn't be sitting here on this couch."

"You'd be dead," Simon said, finding your eyes. "You'd be fuckin' dead. You expect me to let you bleed out? You daft?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Simon."

"We ain't talked in weeks. You can hardly look at me. So I'll talk," He said. "You've got no bloody idea how it made me feel to hear your voice over my radio. I wasn't gonna let you die. Hate me all you like, sweetheart, but if I were to do it over again, I'd do the exact same fuckin thing."

Your eyes met his, inhaling harshly as you deliberated what to say next. You were angry; maybe not at him, maybe at Price, or yourself, or the panel of military officers that agreed to have you discharged. But you were angry. Frustrated.

You paused, finally free to think for a moment while you stared at him. God, did you miss him. You missed his brown eyes, crooked nose, and disheveled hair. The smell he exuded that left your stomach with butterflies and calmed your senses. Your eyes reached his lips, twitching with restlessness and frustration. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel something other than utter failure and humiliation.

You clenched your jaw- how long could you truly hold out? Stay away from him? It was completely obvious from the moment you woke up from surgery and saw him across the room. You loved him. But your heart, regardless of whether it was in the right place, couldn't stand the thought of holding him back. You needed to be cut off from the source.

"I know," You nodded. "I think that's the problem. We got too wrapped up- too focused on something that wasn't real, wasn't sustainable."

"Not real?" He grimaced, backing away. "Don't you fuckin' say that. We both know it was real."

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you looked up to meet his gaze. Your stomach dropped.

"We liked it because it was wrong. Give yourself some time, you'll realize. You won't want me without the risk."

He glared, a deadly glare that made you feel scrutinized under his gaze.

"I don't know what kinda shit you been fed, but I still want you. Fuck- I want you. More now than ever, sweetheart."

He knelt down, letting his palm smooth over your cheek, his long fingers meeting the side of your head. He forced you to meet his gaze, those cold brown eyes poring into yours.

"I want you." He repeated, watching you inhale a sharp breath.

You wanted to cry, scream; anything to get him out of your vicinity, or else you'd cave. You'd give in to his sweet words and intoxicating voice. You'd give in to nostalgia and the warm feelings he flooded you with. But you wanted to be angry, wanted to stay angry so you didn't have to face exactly what you were feeling for him.

"Stop," You blurted, your hand wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to remove it. "Simon-"

He held strong, pulling the blanket off your body as he wedged himself between your thighs, pulling you closer. His nose brushed against your cheek, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"Don't-" You started, before he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours.

They were cold and unwelcoming, an effort to get you to be quiet, to stop talking before you said something that would end things indefinitely.

You squirmed in his grasp for a moment, before the nostalgia hit; the feel of his arms on your palms, a soft scruff formed on his face, his nose brushing against yours. His tongue slid inside your mouth, and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

You jolted forward, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he clung to your waist with his giant paw-like hands. He pulled you into his chest, turning his body to sit on the couch with you on his lap. Your hands grabbed at his face, whimpering as his hands drifted down to your ass.

"I missed you," He said between your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

He lifted your shirt off your torso, breathless gasps for air as you disconnected, before he removed his himself. Your eyes drifted to his impressively muscular abdomen, and the bulky shoulders and biceps that moved as he desperately pulled you into him.

You shivered, a low groan escaping your lips when he pressed his to your neck. His kisses were soft, savouring the texture and smell of your skin in case you decided to pull away. He reached around to relieve you of your bra, pulling it off you before his calloused hands glided up your sides and cupped your breasts.

Your hips moved forward, a motion of which you hoped would give some pleasure, especially as he showered your breasts with small bites and warm licks across your nipples. His hands dug into your flesh, frantically reaching for any part of you he could grab.

He lowered his hand to your waistband, sliding it beneath your panties to feel you again. His eyes shut, a heavy breath in as his fingers reached your clit. He missed the feel of you, how soft and silky every single part of you was. How inviting you were, how wet you got for him even when he'd hardly touched you.

"Fuckin' 'ell," He grumbled under his breath, while his other hand held you in place. "Y' feel so goddamn good."

You whimpered quietly, grinding your clit over his fingers, soft breaths fanning his face. You reached and pulled the waistband of your pants down, haphazardly removing your sweatpants before settling back down on his lap.

He swiftly lifted you, pinning you to the couch beneath him. Your hands flew to his chest, warm to the touch, and he paused briefly.

"Don't tell me to stop," He breathed, removing his belt with one hand as he pulled his jeans down his hips. His cock was pressed against your thigh, heavy, warm, teasing you with every subtle grind of his hips. "Please, sweetheart," He whispered, nose brushing against your cheek.

Your breath caught in your chest at his plea, goosebumps scattering your skin as he begged you not to stop, to allow him to please you.

"It's okay," You nodded, your arms sliding around his shoulders, pulling him against you. "I want you."

He groaned softly, aligning his cock with your pussy before slowly sinking in at an agonizing pace. Your back arched into him, your eyes meeting his as your jaw fell slack.

"Yes," You whispered, choked and strained. "Yes- please."

He buried his head in your neck, rounding his hips as he pushed his cock even deeper inside you. Your wetness allowed him to slide in with ease, and his choked breaths in your ear alerted you to the fact that he wouldn't last long.

"Missed you-missed bein' inside you," He mumbled, panting heavily beside you.

The confession made your heart clench- you knew Simon well. It took a lot for him to admit to missing you, even if it was said in passing while fucking you. He meant it.

Your eyes were watery; half pleasure and sadness, a bitter-sweet feeling that made you press your head against his shoulder, wrap your legs around his waist. You wanted to be close, you wanted comfort. You wanted things to be back the way they were, but a small part of you was almost grateful now. The other, larger, part knew that it was likely the end for the two of you. Your commitment had ended as soon as you were discharged, and you imagined Simon would move along to the next.

You knew he didn't want to hear that you loved him. He didn't want to know that even if he'd stuck his neck out and it lead to ending your career, you were thankful, grateful. He'd saved your life, you knew that, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you felt. Because if you did, you'd be making him choose between his career and yourself. And he'd choose his career.

His hand cradled your head, his thumb finding your lip, pushing his finger between your teeth. His elbow was placed beside your head, rhythmic thrusts that were consistent, hitting the spot every time. Your eyes made contact with his, brows furrowed, mouth agape as he thrusted into you, finding pleasure in watching your lips wrap around his thumb.

He craned his neck, his lips pressing against your throat, and at the same time, as your fingers circled your clit in tandem with his thrusts, you tilted your head back. A moan, from deep in your chest, animalistic and genuine, escaped as your muscles tensed, your orgasm descending quickly.

"Fuck sake," He grunted, overwhelmed by the strength of your pussy constricting around his cock.

You shivered, your consciousness returning as your orgasm finished in short bursts. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, and shortly after that, Simon's thrusts became short and rough. His hips slamming against yours, until he released inside you with a groan.

You fell back with a sigh, watching Simon's face, cheeks flushed, brows dipped together. He hesitated for a moment, before lifting himself off of you, retreating to the other side of the couch.

You sat up, making eye contact with him. It was silent, only the noise of the TV to cover the heavy breathing between you. Admittedly, it was uncomfortabl. It was the first time you'd felt awkward around Simon, unsure what was next.

He reached out to grab your shirt, offering it to you. You blinked, taking it and pulling it over your head.

"Thanks," You whispered. "For everything. I should've said that, before."

"No thanks necessary," He shook his head.

You waited a beat, with watery eyes and a dizzy head. You were beyond confused; what started out as a simple affair had turned into deep feelings and complicated emotions. It overwhelmed you, to say the least, and before you began to cry, you cleared your throat.

You nodded. "You should head out," You said, a lump growing in your throat.

You wanted him to stay. You wanted to blurt out that you loved him- but you couldn't do that to him, couldn't force your feelings on him when he wasn't likely to stick around. You didn't want to be the one to take things a step further while he was halfway across the world. It wasn't fair.

He looked shocked- like it was the last thing he expected to hear from you. He'd thought it was smoothed over, that you knew what he wanted. But your eyes couldn't meet his, and his gut sank as he realized you were never going to feel the way he did. You wouldn't want him the way he wanted you.

He stood from the couch, yanking his shirt on.

"Goodnight," He muttered, stepping past you as he walked to the door. "Just know I meant it. Everythin' I said."

Your head turned to see him again, briefly catching a glimpse of his boot before the door slammed.

[gingerjunhan]

hi bae it’s 👽 anon! could i perchance request a jungsu one shot where reader can’t sleep so they call jungsu and jungsu comes over and they can fall asleep with him there? basic request but i had a late night last night and it inspired me LOL

☆彡 hiii 👽anon! I will happily write something cute and fluffy about Jungsu! 🤭 I hope you enjoy it!

word count: 483 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship, neighbor!au | cws: stupid humor/banter, mentions of break-ins, not proofread, lmk if I missed something

Jungsu woke up to the feeling of his pillow vibrating. His phone had fallen next to his head after falling asleep watching some YouTube videos, so the aggressiveness of the vibrations startled him away with ease. With tired eyes, he could just vaguely make out that he was getting a call from his partner.

“Hello?” He grumbled into the phone, voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“Jungsu?” You ask softly.

“Hmm?” He grunts into the phone.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I can’t sleep.”

Jungsu sits up in bed now, propping himself up on his elbow. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I heard a weird noise outside of my apartment door and now I’m freaking out…”

About a month ago, one of the apartments on the floor below you experienced a break-in, so you’ve been a little on edge ever since.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jungsu’s tired voice spoke into the phone, his tone a little deeper than usual. “Do you want me to walk down the hall?”

Your heart fluttered at his gesture. “If you don’t mind,” you confirmed softly. Jungsu lived a few doors down from you on the other side of the hallway. You met after being stuck in your building's elevator last summer. Maybe you guys should move out soon…

“I’ll be there soon. Let me slide on some shoes and I’ll be on my way.” Without even waiting for an answer, Jungsu hung up the phone, leaving you alone in your dimly lit bedroom.

Moments later, a knock came to your door, and you quickly hopped out of bed to answer it.

Clad in some slippers and pajama pants, Jungsu stood outside your door with a soft, tired smile.

“I fought a band of crooks on my way here,” he joked softly. He liked to give you a hard time for worrying so much, but in reality you both knew he wanted you to feel safe.

“My hero,” you giggle sarcastically, letting him into your apartment. After shutting the door behind him, the two of you pad your way back to your bedroom, where Jungsu takes off his slippers and places them right next to yours.

“Alright,” he yawns after crawling under your covers, “Come to papa.”

You cringe at him. “Papa?” You scoff.

“Oh, so it’s funny when you say it, but not when I say it?” He teases.

“You're weird,” you laugh, joining him under the covers.

“I’m exhausted,” he yawns again. “I think I’m on the verge of becoming delirious.”

You giggle as you get comfortable in his embrace. “You’re also dramatic.” You roll your eyes and turn off the light on your bedside table. This time, it was your turn to yawn.

“Are you comfortable?” Jungsu asks softly, pulling you close to him.

You nod, “Very.”

“Good,” Jungsu mumbles softly. You feel him press a soft kiss to your hairline. “Good night, sweetheart.”

You yawn again. “Good night.”

taglist: @mon2sunjinsuver , @mini-mews , @mxlly143 , @somethingaboutcheese , @weluvjeong , comment to be added!⁎⁺˳✧༚

[starvity]

— ☆ first snow with yujin

gn!reader x zb1 yujin

genre: fluff // warnings: nothing much beside hugs and kisses? obviously snow and mention of him attacking you with snowballs lol lmk if i forgot anything though!!

author’s note: writing winter scenarios in september surprinsgly made me feel extremely at peace and yujin... he's just so son to me. thank you for requesting and showing him lots of love!!! <3 (★ω★)/ [requested♡]

it was a peaceful morning, you could only hear the noise of fire cracking, soft steady breaths from yujin and the faint noise of your slippers on the tiled floor. you set the two cups of hot chocolate you had just made on the coffee table and debates whether you should wake up your boyfriend who looks so peaceful and cozy wrapped up in the blanket. you had started the day slowly, engaging in an early morning conversation and immediately falling back asleep on the couch. your eyes suddenly light up as you notice the first snowflakes coming down outside and you knew exactly what you were obligated to do. you tap yujin's shoulder excitedly and he frowns, turning his back to you and diving further into the pillows. "wake up sleepyhead, you're going to miss the first snow!!" you say, tapping his back multiple times.

yujin turns around slowly, his eyes slowly opening and a glimpse of playfulness and excitement appearing in his pupils. he suddenly sits up as he smells the sweet scent of chocolate, absentmindedly grabbing a cup and carefully handing it to you before grabbing his own. he takes a sip of the beverage and hums softly. he then leans down to meet you, who was now sitting on the floor enjoying the warm drink, and pecks the crown of your head as a thank you. after a few minutes, yujin puts his now empty cup down, the loud noise startling you. "hurry up, hurry up, bottoms up!!" yujin cheers, now too excited to go play outside when he notices the snow had already painted the roofs white. you chuckle at him who had already ran off to grab his shoes and jacket along with yours.

he comes back with a beanie messily put on his head, the brim slightly covering his eyes. you giggle as you take the last sips of your hot chocolate while yujin wraps his scarf tightly around your neck (you had forgotten yours at home yesterday.) he smiles as you finally get up and quickly put your puffy jacket on. the boy starts to jump impatiently as you tie your shoelaces but despite his enthusiasm he doesn't forget to check if your beanie is covering your ears well. finally, you two step outside, screams and giggles erupting as the cold hits your face. without wasting time, your menace of a boyfriend takes a pile of snow in his hand and you almost fail at dodging the snowball coming for you.

you end up chasing each other like two little kids, eagerly holding dozens of snowballs in your arms and hiding all around the house before attacking. you leave your hiding spot behind the tree and starts to run excitingly until you accidently bump into yujin and fall on the ground. yujin laughs at your state and you scream as you notice he is getting ready to jump on top of you. he takes you in his embrace, making your roll around in the snow. you end up playing in the snow a bit more, craving a few initials in the ground, making some snow castles and snow angels until he complains about how his fingers are about to fall off. you finally come back inside and change into some other warm and cozy pyjamas. and as soon as you leave the bathroom yujin tackles you back into bed, his cold nose hitting the crook of your neck and his cold hands reaching for your forearms as he snuggles closer to your back. you ended up just lazing around for the rest of the day with a hot meal and some winter movies and you swear you've never felt more at peace.

[pearbunny]

the bucket list ✘ [eleven]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was. 

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre:  18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut. 

general warnings:  tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: 3.4k

chapter content: cute little moments between mc & Jisung, apple picking, mentions of food, flirting, a phone call with Changbin and Lee Know.

author’s note: Just a small little set up for the next chapter to be honest. To make up for that, 11.5 will be out next week. :)

You wake up the next morning the muffled sounds of birds chirping. You inhale deeply and the scent of Jisung’s body wash fills your senses. Keeping your eyes closed, you snuggle yourself deeper into the sheets, only to find that you were still pressed up against Jisung’s side, his hand at the small of your back. You’re a little in shock, Jisung was usually an early riser, always up and out of bed by the time you would wake up. Your eyes open to find him next to you, eyes closed with long lashes brushing his cheeks, mouth slightly agape, while his chest softly rises and falls with his slow and deep breathing. 

You contemplate getting up to get ready for the day, letting him sleep in, but instead you settle on taking advantage of being able to sleep in with Jisung. 

It feels like you had just closed your eyes when you wake up this time. Jisung is still asleep and for a moment you’re worried. Leaning on your elbows, you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. A small smile plays on your lips when you find that he was fine. On the outside of the bed, you reach over to grab your phone, but fail to do so when Jisung stirs from his sleep, his hand grabbing at your wrist to pull you back. The force brings you on top of him and he gives a small ‘Oof’ on impact. The corner of his lips turn up. 

“Good morning.” Jisung’s voice is deep and coarse and it catches you off guard, causing you to involuntarily bite down on your plump bottom lip. You clear your throat and shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts. 

“Morning, Ji. It’s about time we get up.” You peel yourself away from him, bringing your toes to touch the heated wood-vinyl floors before sliding them into your warm fuzzy slippers. 

Behind you, Jisung groans playfully before sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. 

After you freshen up in the bathroom, you head to the small kitchenette while Jisung freshens up himself. You fill up the electric kettle with tap water in the small sink before bringing it to a boil. While you wait for Jisung to come back out, you look in the small cupboards for any kind of instant coffee pack. Just as the electric kettle turns off, Jisung comes up behind you, hands on the counter, trapping you in place. You twist in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around the small of his waist. 

“You actually slept in today.” 

Jisung nods and easily lifts you onto the counter. You laugh in the process and lean forward against him, doing your best to not hit your head on the cupboards behind you. “You’re usually awake before I am; everything okay? How are you feeling?”

Jisung slots himself between your legs, leaning forward against you to bury his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply, and exhales.”I’m fine. I just slept well.” He can’t recall the last time he slept in like that, his mind typically running 100 miles an hour with all the things he had to do within the day, all the ideas he had for music, the stock inventory at work; it was nice that he was able to slow down for once and he had a sneaking suspicion all of that had to do with you.

You place your forearms on his shoulders, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.  His fingers creep under your oversized sleeping shirt, fingertips grazing at the smooth skin of your sides. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Anytime.”

Naturally, you find the both of you taking your cups of coffee and drinking them outside in front of the camper on the small campfire site the hosts provided. 

“So,” Jisung starts off, “What does a road trip for you look like usually?” 

“Hmmm,” You bring the mug of hot coffee up to your face, letting the steam warm you up. “Well, other than the actual destination I always picture road trips to include a bunch of snacks, stopping at a rest stop – usually a McDonald’s – to grab a bite to eat at and stretch our legs, and when I was younger my mom always stopped at a couple of local markets.” 

Jisung nods in understanding, “I get that. I bet you were a handful as a kid on the road for hours.” 

You laugh and shrug your shoulders, “Probably. My dad was probably tired of listening to the same 12 songs that I demanded we play during the entirety of the trip.” Jisung chuckles at that. “He probably really enjoyed whenever I dozed off so he could have some peace and quiet.” 

“Time to go on the road again!” 

You help Jisung this time with bringing the bags into the trunk of his car. Once all inside, he shuts the trunk and stretches his arms way above his head, letting out a very loud and over-exaggerated groan. 

You laugh and jokingly knead the back of his shoulders with your thumbs. “Why are you such an old man?” 

Jisung guides you to the passenger seat and opens the door for you, laughing at himself. “I got a good night’s rest.I feel like I was reborn again!”

You slip into your seat, buckling your seatbelt automatically as a habit. Jisung closes the door for you once you're situated then runs over to the driver's side. He checks his mirrors, places his seatbelt on, and drives off from the lot. 

“If you’re reborn again, doesn’t that mean you’d be like a baby? Shouldn’t you not feel any back pain?” 

Jisung shrugs, keeping his eyes on the path in front of him as he navigates himself towards the main road. “Benjamin Button? I can’t help how my body feels.” 

“How far are we from Seoul?”

Jisung takes his phone from his lap, connected to the car. He hands it to you, dropping it into the palm of your hands. “We should be about two and a half hours out and now that you’ll be awake, you can be a proper co-pilot.” 

You roll your eyes and look through his phone, trying to find his music app. “Hey, I wasn’t feeling well that day.”

Jisung lifts a brow and looks at you through the corner of his eyes quickly. “Yeah? Not because you were completely avoiding me, right?”

“Avoiding you? Now why on earth would I do that?” You tease right back at him. Finally, you land on his spotify app. There was no rhyme or reason to his apps, no kind of organization so finding it was quite the feat. “Any playlist you want to listen to?” 

Jisung bites on his lower lip, recalling all the playlists he’s made. “Work on a Sunday Afternoon.” 

You go into his library, scrolling through what seems like an endless amount of saved lists. Once you locate the right one, you press play. “You really like music, huh?”

Jisung nods, checking over his shoulder before merging into the left lane. “Yea. I mean, kind of have to have some kind of a liking to it if I want to release my own music one day.” 

You look through the playlist. It’s a surprising amount of soft-jazz and indie music sprinkled in together. You close your eyes to imagine how Loud Mouths would be on a Sunday afternoon: groups of friends, families, couples waiting for a table at the eclectic restaurant-bar, the sun coming through the large black paned windows, Changbin talking to newcomers and regulars alike, Lee Know in the kitchen making sure that every plate that went out wasn’t only delicious, but beautiful to look at, and Jisung behind the bar, charmingly guessing people’s favorite drinks just based on the short amount of time that he’s met them.  

You smile when you recognize a couple of English songs peppered in. “Hey, what kind of music do you like to make?”

He purses his lips, brows furrowing in thought. “I like rock ballads a lot, but I’m not as confident in my singing as I am in my rapping.”

“You rap?!” Your eyes go wide in surprise. “And you sing?!”

Jisung laughs nervously. “I like to. I don’t know if what I do would be considered good, though.” 

“Nonsense,” You wiggle into your seat, getting more comfortable. “When can I listen to your music?” 

“Eventually.” 

About an hour out, you notice that the car is approaching a small sign on the side of the road. You sit up in your plush seat, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to read the sign. “Jisung, it looks like there’s some apple picking nearby!” 

Jisung glances quickly to the right side of the road, barely missing the sign. “Next 2 exits. Do you want to do it?” 

Without hesitation, you exclaim, “Yes!” as you press your palms against the window, eyes lighting up at the sight.  

Jisung chuckles softly and signals for the next exit. 

“Sorry,” You mumble in your seat, a little embarrassed at your excitement. “I hope this doesn’t ruin our plans.” During your drive, you and Jisung had decided on picking some food up on the way, having dinner together while possibly watching some show on netflix, and painting his nails.

Jisung takes his free right hand and reaches over to your leg to squeeze the bottom of your thigh gently. “We can still have a night in. Remember, Changbin gave me the rest of the week off.” 

You eye his hand on your thigh and smile, a blush painting the tops of your cheeks as you sit giddy. 

You hop out of the car once Jisung parks, not bothering to wait for him to open your door. This earns you a Jisung pout when he closes your door for you. He extends a hand out and you take it easily, slipping your fingers between his. 

“Have you ever gone apple picking before?” Jisung leads you to a small stall being tended to by an elderly woman,  short gray hair pulled under a cap, one that matched the apron she wore over her light-weigth patterned sweater. 

“I have! I used to go with my mom and dad when I was younger. When I grew up, I started going with my friends back home.” Jisung hands you a woven basket while he converses with the woman. You nudge his side a little when they start laughing when a really bad joke Jisung slipped in. Jisung bows his head and you mimic him, bidding farewell. 

“You really are a charmer, you know that?” 

Jisung scratches at the top of his nose. “I just like talking to people. People are interesting.”

You eye him with a small small smile before heading over to the rows and rows of apple trees. “People are interesting.” 

Jisung laughs as he follows you. “I’m being for real! Bartending at Loud Mouths has been a very fulfilling job for me.” 

You examine an apple, delicately turning it on its side and seeing bruising. You decide to skip that one. “Is it because of all the random people you get to chat up?” 

Jisung nods and starts to follow your example. “Exactly. Especially being located in Seoul, I’ve gotten to come across people from all over the world. They tell me all sorts of things after a drink or two. People who are visiting for business, visiting a family member, a lot of the times I meet people who are visiting Korea for the first time. I hear about their love life, their dogs, and sometimes I get juicy info about a person’s inlaws.” 

You find an apple that you like enough and pick it from its stem, placing it carefully into the basket around your arm. “Are you the go-to drama guy at the bar?” 

Jisung laughs and turns over an apple, “I know all the tea.” 

The laugh that comes from your mouth is pure music to Jisung’s ears. 

“Actually,” Jisung places the apple in the basket, then takes it from your arm. “I have no idea what I’m looking for, I’ll just hold them.” 

“Thanks.” You find a big and bright red apple and pick it off the stem, turning around to see that Jisung was right behind you with the basket held up. You drop it into the basket and continue down the orchard. 

“I use a lot of what they say for inspiration.” 

“For your songs?” You look up and circle around a specific apple then reach up for it. You can’t quite grasp it, even on your tippy-toes, but Jisung easily picks it off of the tree and hands it to you to make sure it’s good enough to add to your pile. 

“Yeah, I feel like I don’t have a lot of life experience, so I listen and I think about how I would feel or what I would do in those situations.” Jisung shrugs and continues to follow you around, the basket getting heavy in his hands. 

“You really know how to keep me curious about your songs, Jisung.” Your voice has a slightly jestering tone to it.

Jisung laughs nervously, “How about I show you one when we get back to Seoul?” 

“Deal.” You place one final apple in the basket and with a smile on your face, you take a hold of his free hand and tug him back towards the stall to pay for them. 

Jisung places the bushel of apples on the table for the elderly woman to bag as you pay for it. Once all done, you both bow again to the woman who smiles widely, eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you both goodbye. 

Jisung laughs in the driver’s seat as you place the heavy bag of apples in the back of the car, buckling it in as if it were a real person. “I’m going to be eating apples for a week after you’re gone with all of those” 

“I’m going to make an apple pie, silly.” You slip into your seat and buckle up for the last leg of your trip. You say it so matter-of-factly that all Jisung can do is give you a blank stare before laughing it off.

By the time you arrive back at the apartment with Jisung, the both of you were decently tired from getting stuck in traffic. Desperate for food, you stopped by the drive-thru at some fast food chain and grabbed a couple of burgers to bring home. 

As Jisung brings in the luggages, you hold the food and your bag of apples and place them on the kitchen counter. Jisung drives right into the bag, taking out his burger, unwrapping it and stuffing his face. The sides of his cheeks puff up with the amount of food he’s stored in them and you can’t help but to laugh. 

He looks at you, brow raised as if his current state was a normal situation. With a dramatic swallow of his food, he points at his lips. “Something on my face?” 

“No, you’re just… an interesting individual, that’s all, Jisung.” 

That answer seems to please him as a gummy smile greets you. He shyly clears this throat, changing the conversation. “So, what’s next on the list?” 

“Oh!” You had almost forgotten all about it. “Well, now that we’re back, we can cross off Take a Road Trip.” You search in your bag by the door for the notebook with one hand as you take a large bite of your burger in the other. You bring the book back to the counter with Jisung, marking the Road Trip item off as done. 

Jisung hovers next to you, looking over your shoulder at the remaining items. There were many crossed off, but even more left undone. He hums, eyes scanning the list multiple times. Abruptly, he closes the book which brings your attention on him. 

“What’s something that you want to do? Something off your own bucket list?” 

You lean against the counter in contemplation and take a sip of your soda. “Skydive.” You look at him with a slightly teasing look in your eyes, recalling how afraid of heights he was while on the Ferris Wheel earlier in the week. 

Jisung looks at you, devoid of any emotion, lips in a tight straight line. He blinks. One long hard blink as he calms himself after picturing himself high up in the sky on a plane, looking down at the world before he’s about to jump. He places a hand on the counter when he feels his knees wobble. “How about something simple? Something you’ve always been able to do but you’ve often overlooked and taken for granted.” 

“Like an everyday thing?” 

Jisung nods. “Exactly like that.”

“Well,” You think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve already done that. When I sang at Loudmouths. But,” You pause and Jisung leans forward towards you, waiting for your answer. “I have always wanted to host a little dinner party for friends. Some cute fancy drinks, candlights, soft music playing in the back.” 

Jisung reaches into his pocket, taking out his phone. As his thumbs unlock it and search through his contacts, he gives you a smirk. “Alright then, lets do it.” 

“Wha–?” 

He’s facetime someone judging by the ring back tone. 

“Who are you calling?” 

“Yeoboseyo?” A deep voice answers the phone. Jisung gives the person on the other end a smile. “Eh? Hannie, where are you? Are you back now? Is Y/N still there?” 

Jisung nods and you quickly shove your head into the frame of the call. “I’m here!” 

Changbin’s face on the screen lights up in a huge smile once he sees you. He calls for someone out of the frame. “Lee Know!” 

You hear a distant huff followed by a “Hmm?” Lee Know appears on camera. “Ah. How was your trip?” 

“Good!” You wave at both of the men. 

“Y/N wants to have dinner with everyone at my place.” 

“Sure, when do you think? Changbin taps a couple of times on his phone, pulling up his calendar. “Oh, I can close the place down tomorrow night.” 

Quickly, you take the phone from Jisung so that you’re the only one in frame. “What? No! I can't ask that of you.” 

Behind you, Jisung mumbles quietly, “He’s the boss, he can do what he wants.” 

Changbin laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I’m closing the place down tomorrow night. 

You give him a soft smile, thankful. “Alright then. Lee Know, do you think you could help me make dinner? I only ever make dinner for myself, usually.” 

Lee Know takes his index finger and fixes his bangs in the reflection of the facetime. “Sure. I’ll get there early.”

“Do you need us to bring anything?” Changbin asks. 

“Seungmin. He was nice enough to guilt Jisung into offering me a place to stay for the past two weeks.” You smile a bit, recalling that day. It seems so long ago.  “Oh, and I hope you like apple pie!”

“Y/N,” Lee Know calls to you. Changbin shifts his phone over to show Lee Know only. He’s on his phone, scrolling with his thumb. “I’m following you on Instagram. Accept. I’ll message you there about the menu. I don’t know much about baking though, so you’ll be on your own for that one.” 

You laugh a bit at how blunt Lee Know was. “Okay. Here’s Jisung.” You hand the phone to Jisung and find your own, quickly accepting Lee Know’s friend request. 

“So we’ll see you tomorrow?” Jisung waves goodbye through the phone to his friends. 

“We’ll be there!” With that, Changbin hangs up on the call. 

“Do you think you could make some drinks tomorrow?” You look up from your phone at Jisung. 

“Of course… Although, the last time I made you a drink we ended up in bed together.” He looks at you with a small smirk on his lips. 

You redden in the face and bite on your lower lip. You take a deep breath in and mimic his smirk, raising a brow at him. “Would that be so bad if that happened again?” 

ending author’s notes: I know I said this last chapter, but the end is coming near so here's a nice cute fluffy chapter before we say goodbye soon. As a reminder, next week I'll be posting eleven.5!

taglist

@burningchaosdeer, @bat-shark-repellant, @jisunglyricist, @captivq, @lixiel0ver, @channieandhisgoonsquad, @dalamjisung, @laylasbunbunny, @beanebabyy, @leyknowsbin, @vixensss, @hyunfilms, @cutiespaghetti, @hanjisunginc, @kubuwu, @raehawthorne, @leeknowyah, @lifeissteph, @thesunsfullmoon, @bbokari711, @sunnyhonie @aalexyuuuhm, @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

could not be tagged

[annoyinglandmagazine]

If I Were Not Myself Would This Be Easier

My entry for @halfelvenweek featuring Celebrian grappling with the daunting lack of knowledge there is about peredhel and Elrond being reminded of his own years spent trying to figure out his identity.

C/W: Brief mention of periods if you’re particularly sensitive to that.

Elrond sectioned one pile of archivist notes into three more separate piles with a sure certainty that he would not remember the criteria by which he’d done it by the end ‘that was if they were in anyway separate by then,’ he thought as the soft midsummers breeze lifted a page and the entirety of the makeshift library was jostled as he shifted his legs under the sheets to catch it. This certainty was solidified as he found himself intrigued by a transcript of a debate that was civil only in the lack of profane vocabulary on the matter of the Quenya Ban and on where to categorise it. A new pile it was.

He knew logically that the very depth of the night was far from the best time to be doing this, at this time of year he should not have to wait far longer for better light than that of the lamps in their bedchamber, and a desk would be a more ideal work environment but nonetheless he found his productivity improved greatly when it was least convenient to be brimming with a thirst for knowledge.

He was so engrossed and enthusiastic that he did not notice the return of his wife through the swaying curtains until the mattress dipped beside him as she collapsed face first onto the sheets as if intending to sleep right then while still in her dressing gown and slippers.

He carefully slipped the papers from beneath her and set them on the floor before they were creased too severely and she stretched her arms up and shifted to rest up against the pillows with long yawn, ‘Elrond?’

‘Hmm? Yes, dear?’

She barely restrained a snicker as she rolled to watch him affectionately ‘What exactly are you doing?’

He looked down at the papers in front of him and started to tidy them off the bed ‘Well you were gone so I thought I’d read while I waited for you but then I noticed the book wasn’t compiled correctly, someone had put the Nirnaeth Arnoediad before everything about Gondolin Celebrian, which makes no sense so I started reordering things and-’

He cut off awkwardly and turned to face his wife once he remembered the reason for her absence and that no matter how patient she was with his sleeping habits this was probably not a time she wanted to be hearing about his archiving.

‘Oh, is Arwen alright? She’s not upset is she, I swear if one of the boys said something to her-’

Celebrian settled into the crook of his arm and kissed his neck soothingly before replying.

‘There’s no need to worry to yourself Arwen is perfectly alright. But, well,’ she scrunched her face up in contemplation as if not entirely sure of the truth of her words.

‘But there is something. What troubles you?’

‘Well she seems in good health, she- she started her bleed,’ she whispered that last bit with surprising distress for an elleth who had never shown much reservation in such simple matters.

‘I’m not sure I follow the problem?’

‘She’s not yet thirty Elrond! There should have been another decade before we had to worry about this, even accounting for her perdhel blood!’

‘Celebrian, I’ve said it’s not an exact science with these things, there’s no way to really anticipate….. anything really,’ he spoke haltingly, the nature of his own blood and his children’s by extension was always a complex topic and deserved to be considered with care.

She clenched her eyes tightly together in the way he knew indicated tears welling up behind them and that her unease was not a sudden thing but something that had been building.

‘I know that. I do and I try to get used to it but, oh Elrond they’re my children and I feel as if I know nothing at all about them! I have no understanding of so many things they go through, when I was trying to reassure Arwen she kept talking of symptoms I’ve never even heard of before and I told her it was all perfectly normal because she seemed alright but I don’t know.’

She lowered her voice to a soft earnest whisper, ‘I sometimes feel that you could do this better yourself. You just understand all of this in a way that I never can, it seems as if anything could happen with them and it’s terrifying!’

Her concerns brought to mind memories he knew his wife would not enjoy a comparison to, of the battle hardened kinslayer, with the voice of silk and raw power both, fervently conversing with his brother over the latest incident that left him feeling so thoroughly out of his depth both as a caretaker in general but especially one to two who were the only of their kind as a direct result of his actions. 

‘Don’t say things like that my love, you are an excellent mother and the children love you so very much, as do I, you do not need to understand everything to make them feel safe and loved, which is the important thing and you do it so well,’ he definitely wasn’t thinking of how said kinslayer had held him to his chest on sleepless nights and gently teased knots out of his hair while two who may not have been as out of depths in regard to the nature of half elves were certainly too so in other ways to do so. Neither blood, nor good character make a good parent in all cases and one with arguably neither may be one in others. Celebrian was a good mother, there was no question about that and it would not do for her to think otherwise.

‘It’s terrifying for me as well. I know I may come across as if I know these things but I have scarcely more idea than you a lot of the time. They are the only children of that exact genetic combination of elvish, edain and Maia blood that ever has or ever will exist and while that’s a daunting a prospect and not in the slightest simple for us or them there’s a beauty in it all the same. They will discover and shape themselves in a way none ever will again, each in their own way.’

He knew the fear that she speaks of, how could he not when it is one he felt his whole life, not for his child but for himself? Waking up in the morning and not knowing what may happen to him, if his skin should turn to fire or ice, if plants should grow at his feet or the rocks should crack at his voice, with none he spoke to having anymore idea. He hit adolescence at fifteen and in a peculiarly staggered manner, Elros in an entirely different pattern as well.

He still doesn’t know when he was an adult and no one around him did either. Following logic he supposed it should have been in and around his fifties but whether that was true or not he’ll never know, he reckons it came a lot earlier and could convince enough people of that to let him bear arms at twenty three. Whether Elrond was in all truth still a child- it’s hard to be entirely sure. A childhood such as his would make it hard to tell.

What he did know was that callouses formed over his fingertips while he weaved sweet clear music to bend starlight, rivers and flame with naught but a harp. He knew that many didn’t know what to make of him or the seemingly endless contradictions. He’d had more than one conversation in which he’d been oh so politely asked to ‘tune it down’ a bit, that he was unnerving people and if he looked and sounded enough like an elf and chose to be one why did he have to keep complicating matters for himself. He supposed it would have been ‘easier’ if he were in elf but the fact remained that he wasn’t, and he had no illusions that when they asked why he kept complicating matters for himself what they meant was complicating matters for them. How could it be confuse him to be what he was?

He supposed that vein of questioning may not have frustrated him so if it hadn’t been exactly what he’d heard over countless other things, his gender, his inclinations, his parentage and loyalties. They did not truly want to help him they wanted to be able to know which little box they should put him, if they should condemn him, pity him or embrace him as their own but this was a very difficult distinction to make when he insisted on being both their’s and their enemy’s kin and did not have the decency to pick one. When he did make the Choice many people were confused as to why he kept making a point out of being a Perdhel because he ‘was an elf now’ as if that was what the Choice had been about.

They did not actually wish to understand, they wished for things to be simple so he made a point of continuing to challenge them as much as possible. He strode about Lindon in swaying elvish gowns holding piles of books and scrolls, gathered herbs in the folds of an edainic skirt and apron, sparred with all the Feanorian techniques in a Beorian tunic, sung the work of Maglor in the unmistakable sweet tone of Luthien Tinuviel, flirted shamelessly with whoever caught his eye and laughed among the tips of trees with his floor length dark hair streaming behind him arrayed in robes of Nolofinwean blue. He outraged all with every manner of braid and insignia and above all refused to comprise on any facet of himself to assist any other’s comfort with his existence. 

The place in the world for him and his children did not exist but they would make one. The way he had created one at Gil Galad’s side and again in Imladris. The way Elros had among the Numenoreans, his parents had with each other all the way back to Luthien defying the laws of death itself to create what had previously been impossible. They would make one and it would be glorious.

[misslisamiray]

Time for this weeks's excerpt from my Rick and Morty fanfic, Down With the Rickness. Before we get started, I just have a couple of quick things to mention.

Current page count (for those of you who are new here, my old-school self has to handwrite my fics first): 84! I'll post another of those "me holding up the pages" pics when it hits 90. 😊

This is going to be the last of these little excerpts, but don't be sad: That's only because next week I plan to start posting actual chapters instead!

I mentioned in a previous update that Rick's ideas for dealing with his cold are questionable at best (in other words, dangerous and absolutely terrible). So, for the last excerpt before I start posting the fic for real, please enjoy an example of that. Morty is very much not enjoying any of it. 😅

Morty ran into the garage, and was immediately taken aback by the sight in front of him. Rick was dressed in his normal clothes again, but his labcoat was crooked and sliding down his left shoulder. He had a sock and shoe on his left foot, but a slipper on his right. His belt was unbuckled, and Morty was fairly sure his shirt was on backwards. He was trying to keep his blankets - there were now three of them - wrapped around himself while he set up another experiment, and had to keep pausing to adjust them.

The experiment in question? Well, it wasn't clear exactly what Rick was trying to accomplish, but he'd gathered the blood sample he took earlier, a couple of petri dishes, and some used tissues, and was arranging all of them on the garage floor... in front of a large ray gun on a pedestal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing now, Rick?! Whatever it is, stop!" Morty yelled, startling Rick and causing him to stumble forward and bump into the ray gun. This led to it flipping so it was facing the roof, which it immediately shot a hole through.

"Ow! Dammit, Morty! Look what you made me do!" Rick complained, rubbing his forehead where he'd hit the ray gun.

"Uh-huh. Weird way to thank me for that hole ending up in the roof and not your head." Morty said wearily.

"Okay, so this wasn't on the right setting for what I'm *Cough!* trying to do just now. But I would've figured that out on my own without your so-called help." Rick grumbled, turning a dial on the ray gun and repositioning it so it was once again aimed at the assortment of things on the floor.

"And what exactly are you trying to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? I hate to admit it, Morty, but you were right about the idea I had before being terrible. *Sniff!* Shrinking you down to microscopic size to talk to the virus? I don't, don't know what I was thinking with that." Rick admitted as he added the blood sample to one of the petri dishes. The pile of blankets slid down a little, and he started shivering again.

Noticing that, Morty helped adjust them around Rick's shoulders, saying, "Glad you realized that, but you still didn't answer my question."

"Huh? Oh, *Cough!* right. As I was saying, making you or a clone or a robot germ-sized is not the right way to handle this situation at all. In fact, the way to deal with it is the exact opposite. What I need to do for this negotiation thing to work is make the germs human-sized." Rick explained matter-of-factly.

"Rick, no! Don't you see how that's even worse than your original plan?!" Morty asked, rightfully horrified.

[callsigngray]

Gentle touches (soap mactavish x fem!readee)

A/n- hello peoples ! Here a oneshot for you all of soap being cuddly and caring , also this oneshot will also be posted on my wattpad acc , also you can reblog just (please do not copy , translate or repost my works anywhere else on any websites , apps or social platforms without my knowledge or consent!!)

Tw-mentions if burn scars

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-

It has been a long day for you.

You’d been working you ass off overtime all week and lately you’ve been feeling all that tiredness and pain catching up to you. You were a welder , a good one at that. You were part of the 6 percent of female welders out there and you were porous of your work but lately you’ve been working later and more hours since things haven’t been all that good. You have burns and scars in yours hands as when you welded at times sometimes the welding gloves you used to protect yourself from getting the burns didn’t help at times . No matter what you used you always wind up getting burned some how.

You stood cooking In The kitchen wearing nothing but slippers and a oversized shirt that was your husbands ,stirring a stew mixed with veggies and chicken that you had been making for dinner tonight. You were exhausted but you knew you felt you had to feed yourself and your husband. You sighed as you added some grabbed some seasoning and garlic from the cabinets that lied above the stove in your nicely cleaned and organized kitche And you seasoned the stew nicely. As you were cooking you hadn’t even noticed your husband , soap walking into the house coming home from a day at base.

Soap kicked off his dirty combat boots at the door and he took off his jacket and he hung it up on the coat rack that was left at the door and he walked down the hallway to come and greet you. It was a log day for him at the base but it was fairly easy as there wasn’t a mission and it was just a fair briefing and training day. As he went to go see you his eyes widened and then softened as he saw you out and cooking in the kitchen. He saw your tired and exhausted face. The dark circles under your eyes and the messy bed of hair that lies atop your head. He hated seeing you like this , working yourself to exhaustion.

He gently then walked over behind you and wrapped his arms around you as you stirred the spot. He held you tightly as he had hugged you from behind and buried his head into the crook of your neck. “I’m home luv.” The Scott muttered softly into the soft flesh of the neck and you looked up from the pot that you were stirring and you glanced at him. “I see that.” You say in a quiet tone and he looked over at your arms seeing the burns on your hands and on your upper wrist. You noticed him looking over at your burns and you sighed. “It’s nothing , it’s just from work.”

“I know it’s something. Your wrists and hands is covered in little burn marks.” He grabbed your hand as His thumbs rubbed your wrist, his eyes scanning over the other ones.He felt like he felt helpless sometimes seeing you like this and it was killing him. He just wanted to fix it, take it all away, to make you feel fine regardless if he just came home or not.

“Jhonny…it’s fine-“

“Shut up.” His voice was gentle as he spoke, his eyes were still roaming over you. “I’m not going to watch you work yourself to death. So let me take care of you.” He looked away from you as his thumb rubbed the soft skin on your hand still , his touch was so soft and loving.

You loved him more than anything else in your life but you had a hard time letting him do things for you. You were very independent and always felt you really had no one to rely on fully. You grew up in a home where if you weren’t taught it you taught yourself which for the majority of things you taught yourself. It was hard to accept help at times and you just didn’t like being taken care of but today was different , today you were truly exhausted. He gently let go of you and he nudged you a little as he started to take over the cooking. “Sit on the couch luv , I’ll finish dinner.”

You shook your head before hugging him from behind and you buried your face into his back inhaling his musky scent , the smell of his cologne and clothes clouding your senses. “…….i just need you with me….” You muttered and he smiled to himself and he turned off the stove and put a top on the pot before turning around and holding you in his arms for a brief moment and then picking you up bridal style causing your eyes to widened.“You’re coming with me.” He says as he then started to walk to the upstairs part of your house and bring you to yours and his shared bedroom.

You wanted to protest but your body was giving in and his touch was too strong to not make you feel calm and sleepy. He kicked open the door and then gently threw you onto the bed before sliding into bed himself and wrapped his arms around you.He lay down beside you, his body pressing up against yours.Your bodies fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. it felt as if warm and safe as he hugged your tired form against him with one arm as He ran one of his hands through your hair, he was in awe of how soft it was. Even in a fragile state you were still stunning to him.

He lightly kissed the top of your head as he pulled you closer. His touch was gentle and soothing, you couldn’t help but relax in his arms. It did wonders for your body as it did your mental state. He rubbed your arm, gently stroking it as He let his fingers travel over the small burn marks that had been caused by your line of work. all he had on his mind was taking care of you at the moment and all that mattered was you.

“Thank you…….” You muttered as you buried your face into his chest and he smiled as he held you. “Anything for you luv.” His words were almost muffled. His touch was soothing, he had his eyes closed for a few moments and he was enjoying your warmth against his body as he too needed this after coming home from base.He laid there for what felt like minutes, but in reality was probably around an hour before he spoke again. “I want you to try and go to sleep now.” His thumb lightly rubbed the side of your neck. “You need your rest, your body is struggling and everything you’ve been doing has taken its toll so I want you to rest love.”

As you didn’t answer he looked over at you for a moment before realizing that you'd fallen asleep. A sleep you so desperately needed.He was relieved you finally fell asleep after awhile.His body was pressed into yours still as he held you and every once in a while he would move slightly and adjust himself so he was more comfortable. The touch of your body reminded him of how fragile and vulnerable you were in this state. He was relieved that you were asleep, your body needed this rest as much as possible. He stayed awake for a long time because he didn’t trust himself to fall asleep in case you needed anything, if you woke up he wanted to be there for you.

He would always be there for you.

[jules-has-notes]

Will.of.Oz (Unexpected Musical) — PattyCake Productions music video

For the third offering in their Unexpected Musicals series, the PattyCake guys got even more ambitious. Combining the club jams of the Black Eyed Peas with the spectacle of The Wizard of Oz required a bigger cast and more locations than their first two videos. Not to mention all the costumes, props, set pieces, and visual effects. But they pulled all of it off with their own unique flair.

Details:

title: Unexpected Musicals – Will.of.Oz

performers: Rachel Copeland (Dorothy); Alexander Browne (Scarecrow / coronor / Winkie guard); E. Michael Evans (Tin Man); Earl Elkins, Jr. (Cowardly Lion); Olivia Adkins (Glinda); Kathy Castellucci (Wicked Witch); Fletcher Wakim (Toto); Eli Jacobson (Lollipop Guild); Annesley Kolb, Kelsey Kolb, & Lilly Kolb (Lullaby League); Charlie Crook, Blanca Rosero, Savannah Simerly, Annabel Rosario, Danielle Peronto, Fred Ramos, Nick Perez, Britt Nicole, Richard Bianco, Polly Pocket, & Jonathan Shane Ferrell (munchkins)

original songs / performers: [0:20] "Let's Get It Started" by the Black Eyed Peas; [1:46] "Don't Phunk with My Heart" by the Black Eyed Peas; [2:10] "Don't Lie" by the Black Eyed Peas; [2:40] "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas; [3:10] "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas; [3:28] "Scream and Shout" by will.i.am, featuring Britney Spears; [3:54] "The Time (I've Had the Time of My Life)" by the Black Eyed Peas

written by: all songs by William "will.i.am" Adams in collaboration — "Let's Get It Started" with Allan "apl.de.ap" Pineda, Jaime "Taboo" Gomez, Terence Yoshiaki, Michael Fratantuno, & George Pajon, Jr.; "Don't Phunk with My Heart" with Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson, Priese "Printz" Board, George Pajon, Jr., Full Force, Kalyanji–Anandji, & Shyamalal Babu "Indeevar" Rai; "Don't Lie" with Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson, Jaime "Taboo" Gomez, Allan "apl.de.ap" Pineda, Chris Peters, Drew Peters, & Richard "Slick Rick" Walters; "I Gotta Feeling" with Allan "apl.de.ap" Pineda, Jaime "Taboo" Gomez, & Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson, David Guetta, & Frédéric Riesterer; "Boom Boom Pow" with Allan "apl.de.ap" Pineda, Jaime "Taboo" Gomez, & Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson; "Scream and Shout" with Jean Baptiste Kouame, Tula "Tulisa" Contostavlos, & Jef Martens; "The Time (I've Had the Time of My Life)" by John DeNicola, Donald Markowitz, & Franke Previte

arranged by: Tony Wakim & Layne Stein

release date: 5 December 2016

My favorite bits:

the munchkins' various entertaining entrances

Eli recreating the Lollipop Guild's expressions and herky-jerky dance moves

the Scarecrow saying ♫ "lose control of body and soul" ♫ as he's gangling about

the "Ding Dong" instrumental melody playing underneath Dorothy and the Scarecrow's exit

and "If I Only Had…" under the Tin Man's introduction

including the iconic "Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" as a counterpoint to "Don't Phunk With My Heart"

Earl's fantastic lion growl and melodramatic wailing (and poor little Fletcher getting confused by it)

the lovely harmonized ♫ "no no no no" ♫ section in "Don't Lie"

the bombast of "Boom Boom Pow" being delivered by the illusory visage of Oz the Great and Powerful

Kathy's pitch-perfect Margaret Hamilton witch cackle

the layered melodies in the coda section

all those incredible costumes (Tony was busy!)

Trivia:

According to PattyCake's Instagram teasers, it took 68 yards of fabric to make Glinda's voluminous gown, 2500 hand-stiched sequins to cover each pair of ruby slippers, and 57 pounds of actual tin to make the Tin Man's armor.

The Lullabye League is portrayed by Layne's step-daughters.

Jonathan Shane Ferrell isn't just one of the munchins. He's also one of the artists from Makeup & Creative Arts who provided the incredible character prosthetics.

PattyCake released their first public blooper reel for this project, and it is very fun.

The team at Makeup & Creative Arts released a time lapse prosthetics demo video for their Oz collection a couple years later with Dan Varnum donning the Lion's mane, Kathy Castellucci reprising her Wicked Witch role, Geoff Castellucci going gray silver as the Tin Man, & Paul Kaleka getting stuffed into the Scarecrow's burlap.

Rachel slipped back into Dorothy's gingham dress the following year to play Judy Garland in PattyCake's "La La Land" video.

Tony had performed "Let's Get It Started" many, many times during his decade as Dracula in the "Beetlejuice Graveyard Revue" at Universal Studios.

"Let's Get It Started" was also part of the opening medley for VoicePlay's second episode of The Sing-Off, though not the section the guys were featured in.

Layne had previously created a remix of "I Gotta Feeling" back in 2010 through his studio, Rayne's Room.