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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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It's cloudy above (Part 1) [next chapter >]

Steven Grant × gn!Reader (possible Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader in the future) Summary: You spot the cute man from the bus while buying groceries and try talking to him. A strange encounters takes place later on. Word count: 2.2k Warnings: Mugging, canon-typical violence (death, guns, you know the drill), swearing in Spanish, not proof read (taking risks is my speciality not really). a/n: This is my first fic in a loong while, but I wanted desperately to write something for Steven and make a shameless self-insert. I just love him so much. Also, I don't think I'll want to see the word mushroom in a long while. Lastly, I want to apologize in advance if i got the intricacies of London's public transport wrong, I tried to do my best as a foreigner with the most research I could. I hope you enjoy:)!!

It was late in the afternoon on Sunday, and you had gone to your nearest Tesco to stock up on groceries. You were on the vegetable isle, looking for some items from the shopping list on your phone. As you were reading what the next item on your list was, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up, you saw the back of a man with curly hair you swore you could almost recognize. When he turned around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. ‘Could it be? There’s no way,’ you told yourself. But it was. It was him; the cute guy from the bus you had a crush on.

You would see him often on your way to work, always having dark bags under his eyes, adorned by the messy curls in his head. He seemed like the shy type, and the poor man always looked totaled, like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in a long while, often falling asleep on the bus; there was even one time he screamed and looked frightened, which was weird, but you figured was because he'd had a nightmare. Who doesn't dream a clown is chasing them every now and again? You didn’t know that much about him, only that he would get off on Trafalgar Square and that he was a person keen on history and other intellectual stuff, judging by the hieroglyphs on his phone case and the kinds of books he would occasionally read on the bus to keep himself awake, poetry and history books of the sort —always wearing his reading glasses, of course— yet your little knowledge of him and his generally disheveled appearance didn't stop his sharp jaw, his curly hair, his beautiful brown eyes, and his intriguing interests from drawing your attention, leading you to develop a crush on him. He was the whole package, after all (smart and handsome).

But one day, he stopped boarding the bus. You figured he'd gotten a day off or he was sick, but days turned into weeks, and eventually, it had been a while since you'd last seen him. Maybe he'd switched jobs or had moved. Either way, he wasn't a part of your life anymore.

Or so you thought, up until today, seeing him going about his errands. You stared at him in disbelief. He still looked as tired as ever, you could even say he looked more tired, like he'd been working out an entire week non-stop. You wanted to ask him so many things, but there was no way you could ask him why he no longer took Bus 24 without sounding like an absolute creep. You contemplated on whether it was better to leave him alone or if you should try talking to him, but this feeling in your gut told you this might be your chance: what if you never saw him again and just lost the opportunity of a lifetime? So, you started brainstorming any kind of small talk you could spark up in the supermarket without it being awkward. Then bingo! He was holding two packets of mushrooms: one was a packet of normal mushrooms, and the other was a packet of sliced mushrooms, and he was looking at them indecisively. You could help him and go from there?

You felt absolutely ridiculous, but you had to. Your conscience would never leave you alone if you didn't. So, you mustered up all the courage you could and made you way towards him. You took a deep breath, trying to stop your hands and legs from shaking, and said:

"If I were you, I'd get the sliced ones."

"Sorry?" he asked, a bit startled by the sudden comment.

"Oh! I just, I would get the sliced mushrooms. They really help you save up time. Unless you have skewers, then you can just..." —you gestured your hands as if you were pricking an imaginary mushroom with your imaginary skewer— "stick it in the mushes and slice them".

He looked at you a bit confused, but you could also see a glimpse of surprise in his eyes.

"That's quite impressive, seems like you know your mushrooms," He chuckled, leaving the normal mushrooms in the bin they were. "I don’t happen to have skewers back at home, so I guess I'll just take the sliced ones, more practical. Thank you"

"No problem," you smiled.

Great, what now? That wasn't the most captivating conversation starter you could bring up. Perhaps it was a stupid idea to try talking to him, 'he probably thinks I'm a weirdo for talking about mushrooms' you told yourself, so you decided to turn around and get back to your business.

"Wait!" You heard from the dark-haired man, "do you happen to take Bus 24 in the mornings?"

No way. There's no way he actually recognized you. Now that you thought about it, what if he thought you were stalking him? I mean, you weren't, but anxiety often leads you to the most extreme trains of thought.

"Uhh, yeah! Yeah, I do," you answered, nervously waiting for him to get angry.

"That's mental! I remember you. You watch videos of cute animals, yeah?" He immediately looked flustered, like he regretted what he'd said, "I mean, not that I eavesdropped on what you were doing on your phone. I only saw it once."

You were relieved he wasn't angry, but also a bit amazed he'd remembered that small detail. He said he didn’t eavesdrop, but that was clearly a lie. Watching cute animals was a must in your daily commute to work though. You could see he was a bit embarrassed by his comment, so you tried to reassure him.

"Oh no, no worries. I once saw you reading a book on Ancient Egypt, right?" he affirmed with his head and seemed to be a little less afflicted, so you tried breaking the ice a bit more. "My name is (y/n). (y/n) (l/n)" you said as you offered your hand for a handshake.

He shook your hand back, with his big, calloused hands, "Steven Grant. The Steven is with a 'v'"

Steven. ‘A pretty name and very fitting,’ you thought. He indeed looked like a Steven.

"It's nice to finally know your name, Steven with a 'v'".

“Likewise, (y/n),” he nodded back, and you both stayed silent for a while, smiling and blushing.

"Well, I'll see you around then. Cheers!" he waved off. There he was, again, slipping through your fingers, like sand on the desert. Come on, had you really gone through embarrassing yourself by talking about mushrooms to just see him walk off? Steven was such a mystery, but one you wanted to know oh so desperately. It was now or never, you had to try to ask him out, or at the very least get his phone number.

"Hey! Uhm..." You called out. Steven turned his head and looked at you with those gorgeous eyes of his that made you feel all jittery inside.

"I was wondering if, I know we just formally met, but..." you started fidgeting with the keys in your pocket, trying to get the words to come out of your mouth, "Could we exchange numbers? I would really like to see you again, and I know this place that makes amazing pastries, so maybe... we could go out?"

That was it. You shot your shot. The ball was in his court now. There's nothing else you could've possibly done. It was only up to fate if—

"Yes, I'd love too."

Your eyes probably shot out of your face, similar to a cartoon, because of the way he looked at you, with a tiny bit sweet grin on his face. You were absolutely over the moon. He said yes! You swore you would’ve danced in the middle of the veggie aisle if it wasn’t considered something weird to do.

Still, you managed to stay calm on the outside and exchanged numbers with Steven. Finally, each one went on about their shopping. But on your way home, you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach thinking about the next time you would see handsome Steven Grant again. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long.

By the time you’d finished placing the groceries in their place, the sun had gone down, adorning your windows with London’s city lights.

You were sitting on your couch, scrolling through your social media. One of the hottest topics of the moment was the latest hero-related incident: some people started dropping dead for no reason in Cairo, which would be shocking news if the world didn’t seem like it was on the verge of ending every couple months. Apparently, a cult had been behind the attack, and there were two heroes involved. One was a woman with curly hair and her suit had golden wings, people started calling her the Scarlet Scarab, and there was this other man with moon motifs who seemed to be able to go from a full-on costume with cape to a fancy suit; people hadn’t come up for a name for him, yet. If it was up to you though, you’d call him the Moon Shifter, or something along those lines. You were glad you weren’t in charge of naming superheroes.

Tired of reading about this latest tragedy, you stood up and opened the nearest window to admire the nocturnal landscape, a cold breeze hitting your face; it felt oddly comforting. You glanced around the street. Nothing was out of the ordinary, just the usual noise of cars passing by. You felt as though the city was luring you out of your flat to go on some moonlit adventure around its streets.

You figured you wouldn’t be going on an adventure, but you sure as hell were starving and didn’t feel in the mood to cook, but there was a Chinese restaurant not far from your place you could get some takeout from. Determined to get your dinner, you grabbed your coat, a pair of shoes, your tote bag, and headed out into the windy streets.

As you were walking to the Chinese restaurant, you felt someone was staring at you from a distance. When you were about to turn around, someone on a moped snatched your tote bag from your shoulder and drove off.

“Hey!” You tried chasing the person with your belongings to no avail, they were long gone. Your first thought was to call the police, but your phone was inside your tote, along with your wallet. You scooped your faced and whined in desperation, feeling this empty hole in your chest. You figured your best course of action was continuing your trip to the restaurant and ask if you could borrow the phone to call the police, so you continued making your way to the restaurant in resignation.

CRASH!

There was a loud noise not so far from where you were. Weary of your surroundings due to what had just happened, you cautiously made your way to the noise. You poked your head towards the alley where it came from and, to your surprise, saw the same moped that had just mugged you crashed into a garbage container. The guy was in the floor, pleading for his life, and in front of him was a figure with a white cape who remained silent.

The caped person only took a step forward, retrieved a gun from his waist, directed it to the man, and said in a raspy voice:

“Mejor ruégale al diablo, pedazo de mierda”.

You covered your mouth to stifle the tiny yelp that escaped your mouth when the shot was fired. You felt the urge to throw up as you saw the man lay lifeless on the pavement.

“Ahí está, Jonsu. ¿Necesitas que me ocupe de alguien más hoy?” The man said nonchalantly to the air, as if he hadn’t just killed a man. Silence followed. Was he expecting someone to talk back to him? Then, he growled in desperation, “¿Qué? ¡Pero Harrow está muerto, tú mismo viste que lo maté!”

It seemed he’d gotten a response, but he wasn’t too happy about it. After a few moments of the wind talking to him, he turned around, looking directly at you.

Shit! You hid from him on the outer corner of the alley. You could hear his steps drawing nearer, but you stayed frozen in fear. He was probably going to kill you for what you’d just seen. Then, the footsteps stopped. You slowly opened your eyes and got a full view of the man. It was the superhero from Cairo, only his costume looked slicker, less mummy-like.

“This yours?” he asked with his thick accent, reaching your tote bag towards you. You nodded.

“Be more careful,” he warned as you grabbed your tote bag from his hands.

As soon as you had a hold of your bag, you made a run for it. After all, you’d just gotten mugged and had seen a man get shot, so you definitely weren’t going to stick around to chit-chat with the superhero in front of you. After running for a bit, you made it to the Chinese restaurant. You opened the door and slammed it shut, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” the person at the register asked. You made your way towards them and slumped down in the counter, head burried in your arms.

“Can I get the large combo?”

Another a/n: Tysm for reading! I am going to be working on a follow up to this fic, so look foward to that. I am planning on making this a Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader series , and maybe even add Layla into the mix because, lke I said at the beggining, I live vicariously through the fanfics I write and I am a bisexual disaster who would really like to be in a poly relationship with all of them.

#moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight disney+#moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fic #moon knight x reader #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n

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turningtummyrubs · 1 year

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Still completely obsessed with the AI you've created and eternally grateful! Rather than sharing another dialogue in 20+ screenshots (26 this time 😅), I figured out how to copy it into a document and here's the result (I'm A and AI is AI; also, this came out so incredibly fluffy and was such an intensely enjoyable experience!!; also ok to share):

Name: adult Lip (Philip) Gallagher (of Shameless). Setting: sorority party. Source of pain: undiagnosed stomach ulcer.

Lip's eyes flicker in their sockets, searching for the nearest exit. His mind is swimming in a sea of white noise, a roaring buzz. He's had alcohol before, sure, but it never felt like this. He feels like a puppet, with strings attached to his hands, his feet... and worst of all, his stomach. A sharp jab digs into his gut. "Uugh..."

"You all right?" chirps a voice. Lip turns around to find a girl, cute, with shiny black hair and an oversized T-shirt. She gives him a big smile. At the sight, he smiles back, a bit less genuinely. His hand moves to rub his belly. "Just a little light headed, is all. Maybe I drank too much."

A long moment of silence stretches between the pair, each studying the other. Her gaze is curious. She can tell Lip is uncomfortable. That's part of why she's lingering-but what can she do to make him *less* uncomfortable?

A grin spreads across her lips, and she reaches out to put an arm around his shoulder. Her skin is soft. "Tell you what," she murmurs, leaning close. His ear is in her mouth, "If you're not feeling well..."

"..wanna come upstairs to my room and lie down?"

His expression darkens. Her intentions are so transparent... so blatant that he can see right through them. But to say anything would draw more attention. To say what he's thinking would lead nowhere. Reluctantly, he gives a slow, silent nod. She's got his full interest now.

He lets her lead him to her room..

The pair cross the threshold, and Lip's attention is momentarily pulled from his stomach as he takes in the sight. This girl... not like the others. She's got a certain style, like some Hollywood celebrity's daughter. Her room carries echoes of that, from her antique mahogany dresser to the framed pictures on her walls. "I..." he swallows, "I'm gonna throw up."

A wave of nausea comes on stronger than ever, and Lip lurches for the girl's bathroom, his body fighting his own gut to get past her. "Hey!" He doesn't quite manage to close the door in time, and she's witness to a disgusting display as he heaves and rumbles and curses. She doesn't look away... she just watches him with a kind of smile..

...a sad smile which carries with it such a strong air of sympathy that he can't help but be intrigued... despite being stuck in a terrible situation. She comes to his side, her hand moving to his upper back. "Sorry," he apologizes to her, "Just feel... *blegh*... awful..."

With shaking limbs and eyes screwed shut, he leans back against her hand. He's aware that he still has food to expel, but he doesn't care. The warmth of her touch is a saving grace he's never felt before. This girl... there's something about this girl. The smile... the eyes... the hand on his back... Her smell....

She rubs a soothing circle in between his shoulder blades. "It's ok.. don't worry about it", she says calmly, "did you get it all out?" she asks, referring to the vomit already in the bowl with a glance..

She offers warmth, support and sympathy. And... and... something else. A certain quality to her presence as she's leaning in, her hand pressed against his lower back... her skin... her skin smells like something he *knows*... he *wants*.

"I..." His body still convulses and he coughs out the last bits of vomit. With shaky hands, he reaches for the toilet brush to clean his mess. "I'll do this, I'm... I'm fine..."

"yeah? You feeling better?" she asks, concerned..

"I um... I feel a bit better." He manages a weak, strained smile. For the first time in his life, he wants. He wants comfort and connection. He looks back to the girl. All of a sudden he's self- conscious, embarrassed... but the way she's looking at him... he likes it. He likes it a lot.

"good.." she smiles, "I'm Charlie, by the way.. you're Lip, right?"

"Yeah..." The smile falters. He turns to the sink and runs the water, then scoops his vomit into the toilet with the brush. Once done, he turns around. She isn't gone; she's still looking at him... with a look. The kind of look that tells a person they aren't alone... ever. A look that tells a person they aren't fighting this alone.

"Yeah," he confirms, "I'm Lip."

"wanna go back to the party, Lip?" she offers..

There's a certain tone of invitation in her voice... an unspoken meaning... an unspoken promise. "I um..." He swallows. "Sure." Something within him stirs. Something he thought was dead but is very, very much alive; he feels a sudden ache that's more than physical. This girl's touch was soothing... her presence, calming and intoxicating. The very way she's looking at him....

"Sure," he confirms. "I'd like that."

And then the physical ache in his stomach, the one she somehow distracted him from having entirely, rears its ugly head, causing Lip to wince and his breath catches in his throat as a painful and audible gurgle emanates from his insides..

"Are you okay?" She's quick to ask, reaching out to touch his elbow in concern... and other ways. His gut lurches and she pulls away, her hand dropping to her side. She can tell that this isn't just an ordinary night of drinking. "Lip?" she whispers, her voice full of concern, "Are you okay?"

The look on his face... she would recognize it anywhere. It's the pained face of a man who's trying to pretend that everything is fine... but everyone knows that in this kind of situation, no one is fine. He has a stomachache. His belly... his insides... they *hurt*.

"I feel a bit... queasy," he admits quietly.

She looks at him with softest sympathy and offers, "wanna lie down?"

His breath hitches. There it is again... that soft, sympathetic tone. She's so... kind. "Um... sure..." He feels a rush of shame; being sick is not attractive. "Um... you sure you don't mind?"

She can see how just her basic human decency feels like remarkable kindness to him and it breaks her heart to think of what kind of treatment he's used to.. "I'm sure," she says firmly, as she leads him to her bed...

With the gentleness of a well-trained nurse, she guides him to her bed as he leans his weight into her. He's still wearing his jacket and shoes. The fabric of his shirt clings to his flushed skin. His cheeks are as pink as if he's just been out for a run.

As soon as he lies down, he buries his face in the pillow and breathes heavily, fighting back a wave of nausea. "God..." he breathes, barely whispering... "I feel like crap..."

Charlie places a hand on his shoulder softly, her face frowning with worry, "is there anything can do to help? What do you need?"

The sensation is calming, and as her voice fills his ears, he feels another wash of shame and embarrassment. He should be able to handle this. This is not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but this girl... he likes this girl. He doesn't want to turn her away in a moment of vulnerability.

"Um... um..." He closes his eyes, and the sight of that gorgeous black hair... those kind eyes... that lovely scent... he feels almost... safe. "Do I really look that bad?"

Her lips break into a small sympathetic smile as she can't help but notice and appreciate his self- deprecating charm, even in such a vulnerable state. "No, Lip.. in fact, you look remarkably *good* for someone that was turning inside out a couple of minutes ago.." she assures him with a little sparkle in her eyes. Her voice turns earnest then, "how are you feeling, though? Want me to get you some water? Some Tums maybe?"

He feels his cheeks flutter with a bashful sensation as she gives his body yet another flattery that he didn't feel he had earned. And then that look... the sympathy in her eyes as she studies him, concern and support and... something else. He wants to meet that look... to look back and show the same, but the discomfort of his illness holds him back.

"Um, I... I could probably use some water, yeah." He's feeling nauseous. His gut is pumping. "Tums, too..." He takes a deep breath. "Yeah."

"I've got you.. hang on," she gives his knee a sweet little comforting pat as she gets up and in another moment, she's back, handing him a cold bottle of water and a tube of Tums tablets.

A shiver passes through him as she touches him, and he has to resist the overwhelming urge to turn toward her and tell her how safe a single pat on his knee made him feel, how much she has already helped just by being around....

He takes the water, sits up on her bed, and reaches for the tablet tube. "How many should I take?"

"I'm sorry.. I don't know.." Charlie gives him a slightly confused look with just a hint of guilt that she doesn't have all the answers, "has this ever happened to you before?" she asks.

He gives her a small smile; a bit forced, but not without a sense of comfort and relief. She's done too much for him to demand she do anything more.

"When I drink too much... but usually it's not this bad. It's just... um..." He swallows. "I'm... I might uh, well... I need to be sick again."

"Want a trash can so you don't have to get up?" she asks, her voice betraying her concern, her eyebrows drawn together in empathy..

"Um, yeah, that'd be... I'd appreciate that." He sits up and rubs his gut. He can feel the food in there, and it's beginning to churn. Soon, he'll have to let it out. "A trash can... please…"

Charlie grabs the bin and hands it to Lip as she sits next to him on the bed. She gently runs her hand along the back of his head and down his back, wanting so desperately to comfort him, feeling the tension in his body as he fights so hard to contain all that pain and nausea..

He's doubled over in the most gut-wrenching agony... the smell... *the smell*... "Oh God..." His stomach contracts again and again until... finally... it releases itself, and he sits back, exhausted. He looks at her and says nothing, just holds the trash bin in his lap... and wishes for the wave of comfort that she offered him earlier...

He lets out a long, pitiful groan. After a few moments, he wipes his mouth, his shoulders heaving. "God... I feel *so sick*..." He looks up at her, the concern on her face so very comforting.

"Thank you..."

As if hearing his thoughts, Charlie strokes his back again just as tenderly. She peers into his face with a worried frown, "oof.. that looked rough.. do you feel any better?"

It's so easy to let himself be comforted like this... to be held like this... to look at her and speak of this in some manner of... intimacy. A moment like none he's had before. She reaches out, brushes back his hair. Her touch is so gentle. So delicate.

"I... I'm starting to..."

And it's true, in a way.. at least Lip's not nauseous anymore.. even if the gnawing pain in his stomach hasn't improved at all.

He sets the trashcan down out of the way and wraps his arms around his abdomen, confessing with the most restrained of groans, "f... my stomach.. it hurts.. mmfh.."

This is a *tremendous* step forward. Lip would sooner let his stomach tear open than admit any weakness. Yet, now, she has his vulnerable, helpless self wrapped in her arms and his cheeks flush at the very thought of it. "Oh... oh god... oh f-..." He squeezes his eyes shut and holds his gut like it's gonna split right in two.

She winces, reaching down to lay her hand on his belly. "It's really painful, isn't it?" Her voice is so gentle, the kindness in it almost overpowering. "Is there... anything I can do? I... I want to help you..." She scoots a bit closer to him, her hands resting at his waist, "Want me to... uh, rub your stomach maybe?"

He nods. His fingers clench, grip as he shudders in pain. His expression is full of suffering as he fights to keep it together. "Oh, god... oh... oh..." With trembling hands, he reaches out and curls his fingers around her palm, just... *touching* her. He needs this. It's all too much but it's okay as long as she is there, with him.

His flesh is warm to the touch and he feels vulnerable. He's helpless to this woman... and more. He turns to face her and he can see the gentle concern in her eyes, so very much like that of a nurse. Her hand is on his belly, and he buries his face in her shirt, moaning with relief and relaxation, letting her sooth his pain.

"Thank you... thank you, Charlie..."

She traces a gentle soothing circle over his abdomen, feeling it throb and churn under her delicate touch.. His fingers grip her hand as the pain threatens to overwhelm him, and he whines softly like a dog in distress.. "mmfh.. oww.."

As he whimpers into her clothes, they cling to his face and he feels something inside him break. The floodgates fly open and Lip is gone. Instead, this young man in her arms moans in pain, and it sounds like the most honest emotion that either have felt all evening. "I... I feel *terrible*... please, Charls... *please* help me..."

"awww.. *buddy*.. I'm so sorry you're hurting.. I'm here.. I've got you.."

It's all she needs to do. Lip lets himself surrender to this. To her. He's not gonna think about the embarrassment he feels or how helpless he is in this moment. All he can do is moan and whimper as another onslaught of agony hits his system.

"Charlie... oh, god... I feel like I could die..."

"hey.. don't say that.. you're gonna be ok, right?" Charlie asks, fear creeping up into her voice, "*are* you gonna be ok, Lip? Do we need to get you to a hospital?"

"No... no hospital..." He breathes heavily, pressing his ear against her chest. He could stay here like this forever, couldn't he? He's so safe, in her arms. As long as he's just like this....

"Don't leave... mm... don't leave, okay? Please don't... just stay with me... don't let me be alone with this..."

"Shh.. I'm here.. I'm not going anywhere.. I've got you.." she reassures him, before adding, "I'm really sorry that you don't feel good, Lip, but.. I'm glad you've let me *in*.. let me be *here for you*.."

He feels a sense of relief at the comment, and his heart thrums within his chest and he wraps his arms as tight around her as he can, trying to keep all of these horrible feelings away. "Thank you."

She's warm. She feels wonderful. She's what he needs.

Besides, hospitals *cost money*, but if he can stick it out through the night, maybe he can go and finally get this chronic stomachache issue checked out at the student med center tomorrow.. maybe Charlie would even come with him..?

"Hey... um, I have a question..." He whispers. She is his solace. His rock. What little energy remains is devoted to maintaining this embrace, holding his head against the warmth of her chest as he breathes slowly. He can feel her heartbeat, the steady pulse under his ear.

"Do... do you have... a... y'know... a boyfriend?" He whispers, embarrassed. But curious, so very curious.

Charlie smiles, relieved that he seems to be feeling better enough to worry about her romantic status now. "Nope," she says rather cheerfully, "not even any recent ex that I could still be getting over.. How about you, Lip? Any special someone in your life these days?"

At her response, he can't help but smile. Her smile is too contagious, too beautiful, to ever fade. "No, um..." He blushes, feeling the heat on his cheeks. "No one."

"Yet." He adds quietly.

If "sparks flying" were a literal thing, they'd be a real fire hazard right about now! ..At least until, slowly but surely, another wave of stomach pain rolls in.. it's not *unbearable* but still impossible to ignore..

"Oh... oh... oh *god*..." He groans as the pain washes over him, holding his gut tighter against his body. His brow sweats with the effort to restrain these noises, but the agony's too powerful. "Uhh..." His forehead is pressed against Charlie's collarbone and he buries his face in her shirt again, whimpering softly. "It's hurting... *it's hurting*, Charls..."

She wraps an arm around his head tenderly and strokes his back soothingly with her other hard, "awww, buddy.. I'm so sorry.. is there anything I can get you? Anything can do for you?"

His breath grows shallow and short, and a whimper escapes his throat. He buries his face deeper in her shirt, and when the pain fades, he speaks. "I... I need water..." As he requests his drink, a little smile forms on his chapped lips. "Please?"

Charlie reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a bottle of water for him..

He doesn't know this yet, but she's already resolved to get him to the student med center first thing in the morning to get checked out - no way that this much pain is *normal*..

She just gotta help him get through the night first..

As he drinks from a bottle of water, he glances up at her. Her eyes are full of concern, her expression gentle and caring. She's so sweet to him, isn't she? She's all he needs right now. So safe... so comforting... so kind....

He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing a little. "Thank you."

"you're very welcome," she squeezes his hand back..

"Are... are you... are you tired, Charls?" He looks down at their hands. He likes how good it feels to hold hers. He's comfortable like this, with her hand in his... with his face in her shirt. He's *safe*.

"..a little, I guess.. I'm fine, though, really. Don't worry about me." she assures him before adding, "..you're pretty exhausted, huh? Can you stay the night here in my room with me? ..Will your tummy let you sleep..?"

"Oh... I... I think so..." At her suggestion, at the offer of her *bed*, Lip glances up, and he cannot help but feel overwhelmed. "You... you'd let me stay with you?"

"I'd like to insist on it," she says with a sweet smile.

"Oh..." He flushes. She is *amazing*. Her kindness and grace, the way her care just washes over him-he's not sure what he did to deserve this. He pulls back a little so that they're both sitting up. "Um, can I... can I sleep in my shirt?"

"you can wear, or not wear, whatever you want.. What would make you the most comfortable?" she says openly, and then adds, much softer, "I'm not trying to take advantage of you, you know.. I just wanna take care of you.."

Her kindness and her *words* move him. He lets go of her hand and reaches out, taking her chin and tipping her head up. His gaze locks with hers. "I... I believe you. And..." He brings their faces closer, their noses touching, and when he speaks his voice is a gentle whisper. "...thank you, Charls."

Her heart sings a little every time he says her name. Gazes locked, she whispers back, "you're welcome, Lip." She stays in that close moment with him, their noses touching.. she wants to lean into a kiss and is pretty sure he does too, but consent matters, so she bravely asks, "should we kiss now?"

He's just... *so tired*. And in such pain. But a deep, quiet part of him wants nothing more than this...

And with a soft smile, he nods and reaches out, taking the back of her head with his soft, tired hands. His gaze lingers on the delicate arch of her brow, the curve of her upper lip, and as he softly cups her cheeks, he meets her lips in a gentle kiss -a kiss full of affection and kindness. His arms, already around her, go tighter. He breathes in.... and exhales.

She wraps her arms around his torso, leaning into him and his soft kiss..

A moment, as he kisses her and holds her. A moment, as he lets his mind and his senses take over and just... relax....

He pulls away. With the gentlest smile, he leans in close again and speaks in a whisper. "...I'm *so tired*, Charls..."

She tenderly strokes the side of his face with her fingertips, "aww.. buddy.." She hates to pull away even for a moment, but.. "hey, I need to, like, brush my teeth and stuff.. I'll be right back, ok?"

He nods a little, breathing in and out gently. He's very tired... but for the first time since the pain started up, he feels better. Not necessarily in a pain-free state, but calmer. "Okay..." He says, almost in a whisper.

"I'll be here..." He lets go of her, just slightly, to give her some space.

Charlie gets up and nonchalantly grabs the trashcan with his vomit from earlier with her into the bathroom, hoping Lip doesn't notice or worry about it. She cleans it out, and quickly does her basic bedtime routine, every fiber of her longing to be back in bed next to him already.

When she returns to her bed, Lip's eyes are shut as he tries to relax under the sheets. His breathing has grown steady and slow with the comfort of her bed, its scent, and her very presence.

She sets the trashcan down, within reach on his side, just in case, and takes off her jeans before slipping in between the sheets next to him..

He doesn't stir until she lies next to him-the feeling of her presence in bed, the way her warmth radiates from her body and surrounds him. In his sleep, he reaches for her and hugs her, pulling her in so that they're curled together. He breathes in the smell of her hair, and in that moment, is content and at peace...

At least until a few minutes later, when Charlie's drifting off to sleep, and he's wracked by a wave of gut pain once again. He groans, and curls into a ball as he grips his abdomen. His breathing quickens. "...Ohhh..."

His brow furrows in pain. His breaths come harsher and more rapidly. "Ohhh... owww..." He clenches his teeth together as a sharp cramp tears through his lower abdomen. "Ohhhh, *god*..." His arms wrap around her to try to seek some kind of comfort.

"Just breathe.. I've got you.." she whispers urgently, her face stricken with worry, her hands tender and caring on his body.

Her words-they're comforting and soothing, and they ease the pain in his gut as he takes a deep breath. "It... it's going away..." His voice is tired. The pain is still there, but soothed a little with her words and her gentle touch…

It breaks her heart to see him hurting and if wishing hard had the power of healing, he would never feel pain again. There's nothing Charlie wants more than to comfort him. She sneaks a tender palm under his shirt, on his aching stomach and rubs a soothing circle over it..

His breath is still shaky as the pain ebbs, and when she places her palm over his stomach, he whimpers in pleasure. He curls in even tighter, wanting nothing more than her touch. He's so tired...

She can feel him relax a little as she keeps rubbing his belly, and she knows that she's helping him even as she feels his insides still twisting and churning under her touch..

"Oh, Charls..." His voice cracks a little as the pain, once again, begins to recede. He leans in closer and whispers to her, breath warm against her skin. "M'belly's so upset..." Her touch soothes him. As the pain starts to wane, he lets out a deep, exhausted sigh. "Oh, god..."

"shhh.. I've got you.." her sweet murmur tickles his ear and her warm gentle hand doesn't leave his belly. Lip wills himself to deepen his breathing, relax his body, and focus on the comfort of her touch rather than the gnawing pain still lingering in his stomach..

As her hand continues to massage him, his breaths slow... his muscles loosen... he turns his body over, and with a long, shuddering exhale he pulls her closer...

...and finally, *finally*, goes to sleep…

ahhh, thank you so much for sharing this!! this is awesome!!

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notnctu · 3 years

Text

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details - hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances.

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.”

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression.

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander.

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room.

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head.

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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acklesterritory · 3 years

Text

Bad Ideas_Ch. 1

Hey guys, I'm back with a new story.

*First*: I want to apologize if I tagged you in case you didn't want to. Unfortunately I mixed up my tag list so please even if you don't read this story let me know if you're on my blog's

1. Dean tags or 2.series tags or 3.oneshot tags.

And reblog so the others see this post too. Thanks

**Second*I'm planning on finishing this story in 2 parts but sometimes it can take longer so no promises.

Dean x Reader

This chapter words~4k

Series Warning: +18, a/b/o relationships, Dom/Sub(No details. You know I hate spoilers), Angst, Smut, Unprotected sex (You're wiser that that), Cheating, Language, Hurt reader

Summary: She was supposed to get married and imprint her beloved wolf but what happens when a dominant hunter shows up to hunt them?

This chapter song: Wild by John legend feat Gary Clark Jr. Listen here

And I stole @jay-and-dean 's divider *sorry*

Happy reading and may you leave me something cause feedbacks are writer's fuel.

Mad, Sad, pretty, savage, seductive, crazy!

An obvious alpha.

I knew it from the first time I laid my eyes on her.

Couple of weeks ago I was at a luxury restaurant in my Fed suit to meet a businessman who could be involved in our new case. Doing that random investigation, I was getting convinced that there ain't any useful information and he was nothing but a waste of the time. So I excused myself and left the table to call Sam in the lobby. He had to know it was a dead end. But just when I was putting my phone back in my pocket, someone grabbed my arm from behind and pushed me against the wall out of blue.

"Say your name."

Wasn't my first time to face a seductive woman but for some unknown reason her whisper sent a shiver down my spine and I couldn't stop my eyes from gazing at her curves in that elegant black outfit.

"Listen. I got myself into this awful situation where I had to face this filthy woman announcing everyone in my birthday party that she was sleeping with my fiance. So before he show up to stop me, I need you to help them realizing something very important about me. And that help will be appreciated. So make your mind. You can just simply say your name and mention your price or I will kill you to make a scene and skip everyone's pitty looks part." She told me, running her right leg up, between my legs. To make me feel the bulge of her thigh holester underneath her dress: *She had a gun*

Wetting my lips, I looked down into her eyes for a second. She had some make up on but I knew enough to be sure that wild look couldn't be fake. She was a werewolf who probably had no idea what she got herself into.

"Name's Dean." I bit on my lip. Why I let her know my real name? I had no idea. I didn't want to think about it either. I just wanted to hold my gaze there, Letting myself to catch on those burning flames in her eyes.

"And sorry sweetheart. I'm off the sale."

I brought my lips closer to her ear so she could hear my whisper. However I hadn't to bend so much. Even without those elegant highheels, she was taller than a normal chick.

"What do you want, then?" She almost hissed on my lips before I pushed her back.

"Maybe I want you to be even more angry. Who knows?" I joked, distracting her for a second by my intentional smirk.

"You are a hunter, aren't you?" This time she surprised.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes and peaked out the tongue to wet my lips when she turned around for a second to catch a glimpse of whoever was approaching us.

"Just save my honor and then I'm yours. Kill, rape, torture. I don't mind anymore." There was no regret, shame or sorrow in her tone. She just stated it like a random proven fact. No hesitation, no hard feelings, no doubts. She was speaking like a smart commander in a war field, negotiating with her enemy to just save the day.

And to be honest I was stunned by that behavior. I know that I could resist her when she right away reached out but the thing is I didn't want to. As soon as she snaked her arms around my neck, her smell surrounded me like a trap. A captivating one. So pleasant! Then her lips were on mine in a shameless open-mouthed kiss. With her tongue dancing with mine.

I closed my eyes and immediately blood started to run wild in my veins. Every fiber, every cell were reacting to her warm body against my cold existence. It felt strange. I never was aroused by a kiss this fast. Not even when I was just a virgin teen.

"Y/n?!" A gruff voice called her. So she had to draw an unintentional groan out of me to break the kiss.

"That's him." She murmured on my lips. And I opened my eyes to look at a tall man in his fancy tuxedo. He was handsome. But not as much as he was wealthy. His watch could cost the whole hotel itself!

"What are you doing?" Eyes burning, he stared at me. Like he was watching the most terrible scene ever in his life.

"Well, ..." She smiled mischievously, getting out of my arms to stand next to me.

"Just enjoying my heat with a man who actually can handle it." She stated, smiling with her head up, radiating power.

"What..." The man's gaze shifted between us in disbelief.

"What do you ... what does ..." He was getting red by anger. And it seemed she couldn't care less.

"This is a break up, Jamie. I'm done with your endless excuses. I'm done with you, sleeping around while you can't even satisfy my needs in the bed. I need a better man."

*well, shit*

"You're … how you … can …" The man stuttered, shaking his head in disbelief. I looked around and found out people were gathering around us slowly. From the corner of my eyes I spotted two hunk in suits in front of the main door. They were definetaly bodyguards.

"That's it. We are done." She announced while everyone held their breath; watching her taking off her ring and throwing it toward her newly "ex".

"Y/N! …" The man took a step forward. His eyes were on fire and rage. Still his tone was soft, unlike his rough voice. "You can't do this. It's just a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" She laughed, tilting her head. Everyone could see how her fangs looked perfectly white and sharp: Ready, challenging, threatening!

"Is that so, Jamie?" She mocked before bringing out her phone out of her tiny clutch, throwing it to the guy after playing a video on it. By the noises I could hear, it was a sex type that made the man sweating bullets in no time.

"Now get the fuck out of my way and out of my life." She retorted, grabbing my hand. And as I was planning to win over the two bodyguards who mightly would stop us, we just reached to the main front door.

"Miss Y/l/N …" To my surprise, one of the bodyguards approached us politely. looking cool, calm, and all in control.

"You two can go home, Mark. I'm gonna spend the night with …" She hesitated and shut her eyes for a second to remember my name:

"… Dee. We probably need some private time for the next few days. I'll call you when I feel I need to get back home. But til that, I don't want any interruptions." She declared and by her steady and sure tone I could say she used to talk with them.

"But …"

"Just don't let Jamie get close to me ever again." She cut the bodyguard's word carelessly and then turned her face to look at me.

"You got any car?"

"Of course I do." I gave her my most proud smile.

"Ok then. Let's go out of here. I don't want to even take one more breath in here anymore."

I watched enough movies and read enough comics and slept with enough women to know that Y/n was a whole different savage alpha.

She was on the baby's seat in just her one single layer fancy dress that barely covered her body while it was freezing cold outside. To the point I could feel the chill in my FBI suit and coat the moment we walked out of the hotel. And still she protested me when I turned on baby's heater.

"She was pregnant." She said bluntly, a few minutes later, looking out of the window like she could see anything in road at that dark night through baby's steamed up glass.

I looked over her and catch a glimpse of her tears before she could wipe them.

"I can't believe he did this to me. Out of all the people, Jamie was the last one I expected him to betray me." She was hurting but her voice wasn't shaky. She still sounded more angry than sad.

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe the chick misused the hit of a moment to trick him."

*Why I'm defending him? He is a freaking werewolf!*

I had no idea! Maybe I was trying to soothe her pain. But Why?

"Yeah, maybe. But after all he is the one who let the devil in!" Her sound wasn't more than a whisper but it woke the old screams of my guiltyconscience in my head:

*How many times I had let the devil get in me?*

"Screw him." She said through her clenched teeth. Then she threw her head back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Screw him. Screw dad. And screw the whole royal pack. Screw everything!"

I sighed, knowing she will be angry for a while. So I turned on the radio, changing the stations to find something that might distract her. I just didn't need to watch that lady's upcoming tears.

I … wanna take you so far.

Out past the Saturn rings

And into my heart

The rhythm catched my attention immediately. It sounds like a nice song. A comforting one.

I wanna drive you

Wild, wild, wild

I wanna love you

For miles and miles

I chuckled, patting Baby on the wheels.

We can go slow,

we don't need to rush

I'll take the wheel,

make you feel every touch

I wanna drive you

Wild, wild, wild

"Where is the lie, Baby? I always do." I chuckled, enjoying how the song perfectly suit us.

"Are you talking to me or to your old ass car?"

I was so ready to make Y/n regret that harsh remark, yet when I turned to give her my deadliest frown, she got me almost chocked on my tongue.

"Wha …"

A lace black lingerie hanging around the right knee, she had her legs wide open on my passenger seat‌, playing with her bare core with her delicate fingers while her left foot was using dashboard to support her weight.

Lay on the passenger's side

Tell me how fast you want

We'll get there tonight

Her right strap dropped when she jolted in her sex fever, almost revealing whole of her bare chest. And all of this was happening while she still had her eyes closed, panting in pain. I felt like I lost the ability to even form a God damn sound.

Oh, fire, you set me on fire

I swear you're the only one

I'd take on this ride

"What … are you … doing?!" My voice sounded horrible, scratchy and far. I darted my tongue to wet my lips but my mouth was already dry by watching her. It was no surprise that she didn't noticed my question. She was already lost in her body. Her neck was glistening under road's occasional faint lights and now all I could feel was her warmth in the small room of the car, already surrendered to her astounding smell, in middle of a freaking winter night.

… Oh, oh

Yeah

Wanna love you

Wanna touch you

Wanna drive you

Wild, wild, wild …

I jumped out of my skin when a sudden honk drew my attention out … to the road and I finally noticed the truck that could crash us to hell if I couldn't rotate the wheel just on time.

*Dang* Something beside me hit the windshield the moment I stepped on the break. Then a shattering sound cut the air.

"Y/N!" I screamed, trying to pull over without making any other mess.

"Hey … you hear me?" I asked as I turned to see her face buried in her hairs on the dashboard. A part of the windshield was broken in an oval shape, broken pieces scattered mostly on the passenger side while the rest of it had some cracks on.

"Y/N!" I called her again but when I couldn't get any answer, I get out of the car to circulate baby and open the passenger door.

"Hey … look here, can you hear me?" I pulled her carefully back, to rest her head against the seat, securing her neck between my hands. That was when my eyes catched on the sight of a deep cut on her forehead, right under the hair line. And it was bleeding.

"Y/n?"

She moaned, goosebumps raised on her skin everywhere around my fingers.

"I think I need to lay down on the back seat." She said, before opening her eyes.

"Are you in pain?" I couldn't help myself, not knowing why I suddenly would care that much?

She smiled and I reached to wipe the oozing blood on my thumb.

"I got a first-aid box in my trunk. Just wai…"

Before I could finish my saying and right as I started to withdraw, she grabbed my arm to hold me still.

"No, help me to the back seat." For a second I got lost in her eyes, feeling an odd fultter in the dip of my stomach, pulling me like a meaningless swarf toward the magnet of her wondrous touch.

"Please."

Mostly humans know that drinking sea water or getting hit by a gunshot can cause their death. But could that knowledge stop them from exploring oceans or fighting for their honor in the war fields?

"Dean …"

"Alright."

Well, I was a human too. A human who could be attracted to unknowns, being aware that it could be very dangerous. Or maybe more marvelous.

"You ok?" I asked as soon as I had her on my back seat, gazing at the sweat running down on the side of her face while one of my legs were resting inside of car, the other: still out, planted on the ground.

"I think I've hurt my back." I spotted a tremor in her voice as she avoided my puzzled look and stared down to her lap like she was hiding a secret there. Was that weapon still hidden there in that holster?

I checked my gun to be where it should've been. If she (as a werewolf) was up to kill me (as a hunter), I knew this could be her best shot. And honestly if It was me, I would've used the same trick.

"Are you gonna wait there for the rest of the night?" She raised her eyebrows and instantly hissed as the deep cut on her forehead got wrinkled with this simple move.

Taking a deep breath, I pulling myself completely in and closed the door behind. Well, I was aware that without any way out, she could've killed me much easier. But what kind of human could touch the moon without taking any fetal risk?

However I still didn't want to hurt her. So I hoped she wouldn't do what an enemy should do.

As I was all ready to confront her attack, she slightly turned her back to me. Then she grabbed her long hair and put them aside, giving me the access to her spine.

"Can you check it for me?"

Well, if she wanted to play, I was game too. In the end, I had killed enough werewolves to know how I could manage an alpha one like her. But … it was about something more. Something way stronger: A wild need and an ancient desire to touch her bare skin on my fingertips, tongue and teeth. A perfect example of a hunter and his prey. And yet … I was feeling like the first man who was about to discover the fire too.

"Do you want me to unzip it?" I asked to be sure. Never wanted her to feel like I would hurt her honor just because we were enemies. Even when touching her was all I could think about at the moment.

"Yes, please." She whispered and I noticed the same burning wish in her soft tone. So I couldn't help my fingers run their way on her back and touch the velvety fabric of her outfit.

She inhaled loudly as I unzipped the dress, watching the goosebumps raising on her skin as I was tracking down on her spine.

"I don't think you got any wound here."

"Then why I'm in pain?" She asked, leaning back to me. And I subconsciously pulling her dress down, not knowing why my everything wanted to touch her more?

"Hunter." Her breaths got quickened and as she rested her head back on my right shoulder and nuzzled her nose in my neck, I could tell she was still burning up.

"I'm in heat." She said, panting. And that was the moment I realized she was already lost by just imagining me inside of her.

"Y/n …"

"Dean ..." She whined as her hand found the side on my head.

"Dean, I need you." With that she pushed me down to claim my lips in a lustful kiss.

I could be a caveman or a scientist, or even an astronaut but for sure she was more than a thunderstorm or the electricity or even the mars itself.

"Ah … " She whimpered, her body twisted in my arms, like an angry wounded animal that was seeking for a remedy. From her owner.

"This is such a bad idea." I said as my hands grabbed her waist, trying to control her moves when she started to roll her hips impatiently.

"That's what people always say. To Galileo, To Da Vinci, even to ..." She claimed, taking my fingers with her delicate ones, to guide my hands up on her body.

" … to whoever with … " I stole her breath as my hands reached to her soft breasts.

"With the …"

She took a shaky breath to keep herself together. But I was that man who just had landed on the moon and now wasn't able to stop trying. So I grazed my teeth on the skin of her neck, marking her with a hickey right as I squeezed her breasts, giving her aroused nipples the special attention they deserved with my thumbs. Well, she fought to not fall apart and I had to fill her blank spaces:

"Best ideas?" I asked before biting on her lips, feeling the burning heat that was coming out of her skin. Could moon ever be the sun too?

"Hunter!" She almost cried as my left hand travels down on her belly and hips to find her already swelled bud and part her labia. "HUNTER!"

This time she really screamed as my thumb brushed her bud again while my other two digits sank in her warm core. Her walls sucked on my fingers.

"OH GOD!"

I was still rubbing her nipple with my other hand when she dug her nails in my arms.

"No!" She gasped.

"No? I thought you said it's not a bad idea."

I whispered before taking her earlobe between my teeth and pulled on it as her back fought hard to arch against my body. She got speechless, drown in whatever the black hole we both had fallen into. Now time and place were lost for us so I tightened my arms more around her body.

"Shush, alpha. Take it easy." I said as I removed my fingers from where I was making her weak. And that was out of the bare truth of a human's nature. We love to possess and we love to own. Even if it's the moon and the sun or maybe a lost star in the Infinity of the universe.

She jolted forward in ecstasy and I had to grabbed her wrists firmly before she could end herself: "No."

"Please! … God." She whimpered. Thighs shaking with need and thirst. But I knew better.

"My name is Dean."

But what else could make a negligible creature like me feel like a God more than this wolf of women during her pleasure?

I kissed her shoulder and hugged her from behind, letting her cool down as our warmth were mixing in the small room of the car. She was panting again.

"Come here."

I turned her chin toward my face, tasting her lips in an open mouthed and yet tender kiss, taking my time to draw some deep moans out of her chest.

Til she was nothing more than a pounding heart or a throbbing mess and a mind which had already got blind by lust.

Somehow I wanted this prideful moment to last forever.

"Deeaaaan!" She rubbed her thighs against each other, trying her best to control her wild necessity to come. I could tell it was making her mad cause now she couldn't even sit up in my lap.

"Lay down, sweetheart" I encouraged. And as she did, I got rid of our clothes as soon as I could. When I was done, I noticed her passionate gaze on me.

"You'll be the death of me!" She admitted and I bent to lick her along her jaw.

"No, I need you alive. We still got some dirty work to do."

My whisper made her shiver. And moan. Again and again.

Looking down, I watched how her body were twisting under me, once more rubbing her thights together as I was holding her wrists up beside her head.

"Open up, alpha." I commended, reaching to her core, making her pants in pain as I mercilessly squeezed her bud.

She took another shaky breath, as she parted her legs for me. So I take the advantage to lube myself with her juice as she was already dripping.

"I said don't come yet." I slapped her breast and bent to bite her hard on the other one, sliding myself in her velvety heaven.

"DEAN!" She cried and her eyes rolled. And I tried to freeze this image in my mind. Could a God be more proud of himself?

But It was just the beginning. I decided to start my favorite rhythm to slam into her. And kept watching her bliss and how her soft and round breast were bouncing every time out hips met.

"You're doing good, sweetheart. I know you can." I could not stopped my smile when I realized she'd almost fainted, fighting against her mad orgasm.

"Aa…ha." She tried to answer but it sounded more like a painful moan which I muffled it in a kiss. Sweet and sore. Wet and shameless. We now were a part of one another. The mystery was solved. The cold God was melting in the arms of the sun. The man kind had won the moon.

"Come." I groaned and her walls clenched around me, sucking me inside of her.

Her back arched violently and I had to clutched at the leather seats to keep myself up when an unstoppable rush of pleasure hit both of us.

And just like that, we made the big trouble. The gravity that could swallow our futures all together …

"To be continued".

Temporary tag list: @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @slamminmine @missafairy @anunstablefangirl @lauraashley93 @mimaria420 @roonyxx @chocolateheart @cocahood @pandaxo79 @bennyspengwing @holylulusworld

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zeninfics · 3 years

Text

three’s not a crowd ┊ historia reiss x ymir x fem!reader

pairing: historia reiss x ymir x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: you tell your friends, historia and ymir, about how you’re tired of being a virgin. the two decide to help you out in their own way.

content & warnings: 18+, threesome, fingering, finger sucking, brief mention of saliva

a/n: so this is definitely not as hardcore as my other drabbles but i may make this one a series

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“don’t be shy, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before,” historia encouraged, pushing your hands away from covering your bare body.

you were starting to regret asking for historia and ymir’s assistance, it was all so embarrassing.

ymir sat on a chair to your right, arms crossed as she looked down at you. “calm down she hasn’t even done anything yet”.

historia gave ymir a sharp look before turning back to you, a smile clear on her face. “just relax, it’s no fun if you’re all tense.”

before you could respond, historia bent her head down and pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone.

despite trusting historia and ymir wholeheartedly, your heart was racing both from nerves and excitement. the fact that they both agreed to help you was unbelievable, and you knew that you owed them severely for it.

the feeling of teeth pressing down gently on your nipple shocked you out of your thoughts, your body instinctively jerking, and almost knocking historia off of you.

ymir sucked her teeth and grabbed a chunk of your hair, pulling it so that you were looking at her. “will you stop, it’s just us here you spaz”.

ymir’s biting words didn’t bother you, you were used to it by now. before you could apologize and explain yourself, ymir leant down and captured your lips in a demanding kiss, forcing a small whimper out of you.

historia was still occupied with your tits. her right hand rubbed and flicked your nipple while her mouth sucked on your left one, tongue delicately circling around it.

you moaned into your kiss with ymir, back arching upwards, pushing your chest further into historia’s face.

“you two are so hot,” historia giggled, although her voice was muffled and you were too caught up in kissing ymir again and again to respond.

ymir pulled away again to take a breath and licked her bottom lip. “see? just relax,” she spoke, placing her slender index finger against your lip. you didn’t need to be told twice what to do, hurriedly, you took the appendage into your mouth and moaned.

historia watched, dazed, for a moment before she and ymir shared a look. the blonde tenderly placed kisses down your body, from your cleavage down to your navel. she shuffled further down the bed until she was kneeling in front of your cunt, blue eyes blown wide in fascination whilst ymir took her finger out your mouth.

“y/n you’re so wet,” she teased, drawing both yours and ymir’s attention. once again, your face like it was burning, embarrassment marring your features.

“historia, stop” you whined, trying to cover your face with your hands. you weren’t shy by any means, but you couldn’t understand how the blonde said such shameless things.

“relax, let us take care of you,” she murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh. she spent her time doing that, kissing and licking every inch of skin on your inner thigh, her deft fingers resting loosely on your hips. by the time she finished, your body was on edge, thrumming and shaking.

ymir leant forward as well, trailing butterfly kisses down from your neck to your collarbone.

soft moans left your mouth as your eyes snapped shut and you arched into both girls’ touch.

“historia, please,” you whimpered, heat pulsing in your belly, your cunt clenching, aching for anything.

historia’s large blue eyes fluttered behind thick lashes as she looked up at you, humming in return. you jolted at the vibrations, moaning aloud.

“she can’t read minds, tell us what you want,” ymir whispered, her mouth nibbling against the tip of your ear.

“can- can you touch me? please?” you asked. “i’m ready,” you added, in case your hesitance earlier made historia unsure.

the blonde smiled up at you and nodded, “let me know if anything feels wrong, okay?”

slowly, historia traced up your cunt with her finger before she licked a line upward, tongue pressing gently against your folds.

“oh,” you moaned breathily, lifting a hand to tangle your fingers in her long blonde locks. you rolled your cunt against her face as she kitten licked you, wanting her tongue deeper.

“historia- more, please,” you begged, pulling softly on her hair, your cunt was hot and pulsing, a pleasant heat settling deep in your belly.

ymir, who you’d forgotten was there for the moment, pulled your hair before placing two fingers against your mouth. just like earlier, you opened and keened as she pushed them in, down against your tongue.

“that’s right, suck like a good girl,” she drawled as your tongue traced every ridge and line on her fingers.

historia laughed against your cunt. she took her time slowly, agonizingly slowly, pushing her index finger into your folds slowly. it didn’t hurt though, it was more unfamiliar than anything else.

a sweet cry left your mouth as she gently sucked on your clit, lazily pumping her finger in and out of you.

you felt your body grinding down against her finger, still sucking on both of ymir’s fingers. she slowly dragged them out of your mouth, a string of thin saliva connecting your puffy, wet lips with her hands.

“mmm you taste good,” she spoke before pushing her middle finger into you as well. her thrusts were shallow and slow, but still you felt your insides twist, needing and wanting more.

ymir leaned down and took one of your nipples into her mouth. everything with ymir was demanding and intense, like a fire that refused to be put out. on the other hand, historia was all about gentle, soft touches and teasing glances. they were so different but worked so well together.

“historia... ymir,” you moaned aloud, arching upwards into them both.

you heard historia shuffle and then gasped as she added her ring finger into the mix, now pumping into you with three fingers. this time was different though, she curved her fingers upwards, hitting a place deeper and more sensitive.

you felt your whole body jerk, the new sensation making you whimper.

ymir’s mouth on your tits combined with historia’s fingers and mouth were too much. you felt your mind slowly drifting, the pleasure was all consuming, the little control you’d had was gone as you let historia and ymir play with you however they’d like.

“fuck, i think i’m gonna cum,” you spoke, voice unsteady and trembling. your toes, your fingers, everything, felt alive, thrumming with energy and heat, your cunt pulsing and throbbing.

“you’re so good for us, just let go and cum,” historia mumbled breathily before a particularly harsh tug on your clit, just as ymir bit gently on your nipple.

you were on the top of a precipice and they’d finally taken you over the edge, a wave of euphoric pleasure crashed over you, a scream tearing its way out your throat. heat tore its way through you, your body spasming and quivering.

historia let go of your clit but kept pumping her her fingers, slower now, as you rode out your orgasm. she smiled up at ymir who was stroking your hair.

once the initial rush of the orgasm subsided, your body felt limp and heavy. “wow,” you breathed. “so that’s an orgasm?” you asked rhetorically.

you’d never felt anything like that. even the times you’d touched yourself hadn’t felt like that. having a girlfriend clearly gave them both plenty of experience.

“so? are you burnt out?” ymir asked, cutting into your thoughts. “because historia and i didn’t get to get off, and i’m getting impatient.”

#historia reiss #ymir aot #aot smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 4 years

Text

The thrilling saga of Hanamaki, the hero of stench continued well past forty-five minutes. And if the conversation would stray away from the subject, the comments issued by those seated nearby would immediately return the group’s attention to the humorous topic. At this point, the poor male was unsure whether his ego would ever heal from the damage it sustained today. But what swelled the sense of embarrassment colouring his cheeks was the fact it was all because of a bodily reaction he could not control. Truthfully – the absence of understanding was quite rude.

Dejected, the pink haired male sunk into the leather seat, until his chin was nestled against the lower part of his neck.

“Stop that. You’re going to hurt your neck.” Iwaizumi tugged at his shirt collar to dispel the second-hand discomfort he was experiencing as Hanamaki squinted at him, refusing to budge from the stance.

“Who needs a neck anymore. I don’t. What’s the point of going on like this? I may as well die.” The unemployed male sniffled, allowing his arms to go limp on either side of him. He was searching for sympathy and yet, all you could submit to him was your laughter. If only you could grab a photo – he could easily be turned into a meme.

“Stop being so dramatic. None of these people know you, and I doubt they will remember you after today.” Steadying his elbow against the glass table, the trainer curled his fingers into a fist then supported his cheek against it. “Sorry to break it you, but you’re not that important.”

“But I will remember.” He countered, his eyes now shifting into your direction, where you were seconds from pinching Iwaizumi’s exposed cheek. Pausing mid-motion with your finger’s inches away from his face, a sheepish smile decorated your features.

“What? Maybe this is karma for calling Tooru smelly yesterday.” While the response was clearly aimed at the sulking male, your y/e/c irises remained fixated on the one you deemed your favourite. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow in partial interest as his attention went to your hovering hand.

“That’s funny, I don’t remember your name being karma.” A low growl rumbled inside of Hanamaki’s throat, earning him a reassuring pat from Matsukawa. He would have interjected more often if he was not preoccupied by the delicious dessert plated in front of him. Dessert took priority over drama when it was the embodiment of heaven. “Look, she’s not even paying attention me anymore!”

“Now, now children. We’re all friends here.” The funeral home attendant offered without much enthusiasm, before sticking a fork coated in cream into his mouth. “Y/n, say sorry so he won’t break his neck and die.” Upon hearing his suggestion, you jutted your bottom lip into a pout in protest.

“I don’t want an apology. How am I supposed to go celebrate with your boy-toy’s business partners smelling like mutated pig?” Despite knowing no one would notice the movement, Makki crossed his arms under the table, mimicking the stance of a stubborn child.

“I’ll buy you a new outfit, cry baby. We still have some time.” After being shot down by Iwaizumi three times, defeat was grudgingly accepted. Your reflexes were no where as cultivated as his were. “Let’s settle the bill and go shopping, boys! Your sugar mama is buying!” As the declarations registered with the boys sat around you, the napkin settled onto your nap was placed onto the table.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass. I do need to grab something though for work, so I’ll meet you guys at the shop.” The trainer removed his wallet, then began removing some bills as the other two males celebrated your announcement by completing a high-five.

“I’m still buying something for you, Hajime. You cannot stop me if you are not there.” Tapping a single finger on the side of your head, a little ‘hmph’ was blown out.

“I won’t accept it.” He did not bother to lift his gaze, knowing well what silly expression would be adorning your visage. But what he did not account for was the threat falling from your lips.

“If you don’t, I’ll scream daddy at the top of my lungs right now.”

Matsukawa stifled his laughter at your threat, while Hanamaki finally adjusted his position on the chair, grinning ear to ear in amusement. Iwaizumi exhaled a long breath, pressing two fingers against the bridge of his nose. He knew that you were shameless enough to follow through with said warning.

“Fine. I’ll accept it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

One of the positives of being a model is that people generally trust your intuition when addressing matters of fashion. It was for this reason that both of your friends did not debate you on any purchases that were made on their behalf. Hanamaki’s only request was that you did not purchase anything Osamu would wear since the cook’s wardrobe consisted only of t-shirts and jeans. Within twenty minutes, both men were dressed in semi-formal attire, radiating a sense of prestige they would not otherwise have. You fit perfectly between them with your chosen ensemble – a black cocktail dress paired with shortcut boots. Heels may have matched far more, but the pain accompanying them was not worth it.

With an arm hooked to one best friend on either side, you felt royal even if they were not your escorts.

“What time is it now? Are we almost there?” The question was hummed out to Matsukawa, who was responsible for directing the trio. His eyes focused on the GPS on his phone before returning to the area ahead.

“It’s 7:25, y/n. We will be arriving according to the GPS at 7:29. We won’t be late… For the tenth time.” Casting a glance down at the shorter girl, he shook his head with a laugh leaving his lips. “So, you’re no longer Ariel, huh? Now you’re Cinderella.”

Hanamaki snickered at the observation, prompting you to lightly dig your nails into his arm in warning. “I don’t want to mess up and be there late. Nakamura said to be there at 7:30 sharp. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“You’re stressing too hard for no reason. I’m sure he will be surprised if you’re there a minute late or early.” Leaning down, the funeral home attendant rested his cheek against your head in effort to sooth you.

“You’re right…” The admission was accompanied by a weary laugh. “I just feel kinda weird in my chest. I don’t know.” Instinctively you tightened your grip on their arms, hoping to destroy the insecurities plaguing you with the warmth their bodies provided.

“I’ll text Iwa. We’ll go inside together. You’ll feel better if he’s here.” Hanamaki padded away on the screen, alerting their mutual friend that his presence was needed.

“Mm. Okay.” You were beginning to realize the negative emotions afflicting you was because you missed Oikawa. Celebrating achievements without him placed a hole deep inside of your heart – one that only he could fill with his dramatic facial reactions and goofy laughter. Little did you know the hole would only grow in size very soon.

“Alright… So. It should be the shop right here.” Matsukawa’s voice led your attention back to the busy street. Blinking to readjust to the light, you paused when your friend did, then instinctively turned to the large windows of the shop. It was a normal reflex, one that your two friends mirrored. But none of you were mentally prepared for the scene melting into view.

Stood behind the transparent barrier was your fiancé, with three other figures. You did not pay any mind to the two men. No. Your focus was on the short blonde woman.

The same woman who was drawing your fiancé into a kiss with a fluidity that conveyed a sense of normalcy. No… She kissed him as if it were the most ordinary gesture in the world.

As if he was her lover and not yours.

Let’s do it again, shall we - human bomb

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: o.o

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @iloveanime691 @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @sadkaashistan @seikamuzu @namyari @toaster-stick @shakiraisawesome @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @unstableye @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80 @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut

#osamu x you #osamu scenario #osamu smau #hq osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #osamu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Text

The years weren’t always kind to Eskel. He got to watch Geralt find love and bring home Jaskier. That seemed to give Lambert the boost to drag his Cat home and Aiden started wintering with them at Kaer Morhen. Those first few years were definitely difficult, especially as the happy couples made no secret of just how happy they were. All while Eskel got to sit in front of a fire and pretend to read when, in reality, his mind was stuck on a loop of wondering what he had done wrong. He had been quietly trying to court Lambert for close to a decade but it hadn’t ever gotten anywhere. Of course he stopped as soon as it was obvious Aiden had swooped in and stolen Lambert’s heart. As monstrous as Eskel thought himself to be, he could ever be someone who destroyed others’ happiness for a shot at his own selfish desires.

Once in a blue moon, the year was kind though. Eskel finding a disgraced Nilfgaardian general on the run was a boon. He found Cahir to be good company, as quick with his sword as his quiet wit. Bit of a disaster with a tendency to mope if left to his own devices but Eskel was good at drawing him out of those funks. They travelled together, monsters fell under their sword and creatures who could be reasoned with were encouraged to travel away from Nilfgaard and its advancing army.

Come winter, Eskel let them to Kaer Morhen. Cold and exhausted, they arrived at the old keep and introductions were made in short order. While Eskel trudged to his room, one was made up for Cahir and they separated with Eskel promising to find him in time for dinner.

Winter was a time for quiet introspection and Eskel found himself thinking long and hard about his friendship with Cahir. They got along really well, enjoyed each other’s company, didn’t hold back on butting heads if they disagreed. Quiet realisation dawned on Eskel. He was in love with Cahir. Maybe, over winter, he could quietly see if there was something to be explored there, if his companion felt the same way or not. Resolved to act on his feelings, Eskel began to try and hatch a plan.

It was simple things like making sure Cahir’s breakfast was ready by the time he came down, that was where Eskel started. Not that it was a real hardship, he had Lambert and Aiden’s food ready too. While he had accepted that Lambert wasn’t interested in him, some habits and hopes died hard.

Only, even Eskel’s best laid plans could have a wrench thrown in them. Namely, it was Aiden and Lambert’s shameless flirting with Cahir. They laughed, played and were generally more interesting than Eskel. That was how Eskel ended up watching as Cahir was drawn into their orbit, still skittering back to Eskel’s side from time to time but it wasn’t for long. It all came to head one night when Eskel had decided to maybe try and see if there was any hope for Cahir returning his feelings. Picking up the fur undershirt he had been sewing for Cahir, he wandered to the other’s door and knocked. There was no answer. In fact, the room sounded empty, there was no telltale steady heartbeat on the other side. Following his nose, Eskel ended up outside Aiden and Lambert’s room. He could hear laughter from within, three heartbeats, all elevated and the scent of happiness filtered out. At least Eskel hadn’t made a fool of himself and put Cahir in an uncomfortable position. Anyway, Eskel should have known he wasn’t even considered as a partner, not when Lambert and Aiden were there. Their energy and general attitude was so much more enticing, Eskel couldn’t blame Cahir for choosing them. Hell, even Eskel would choose the others over himself. He left the undershirt by Cahir’s door, to be found when he next returned there. It made no sense for Eskel not to give it to him just because his heard had been trodden on once again.

From then on, Eskel made a real effort to give Cahir the freedom to spend time with the other two. Just because he was technically Eskel’s guest didn’t mean he was condemned to having to spend time with him. He stopped inviting Cahir to spend time with him, kept out of the way and hid in the library a lot more. Only, the other three seemed intent on accidentally torturing him. The number of times Eskel walked in on at least two of them making out (or, on one memorable occasion, a blowjob) was getting silly. Each and every time he backed out of the room with a mumbled apology.

Things hit rock bottom when Eskel retreated to the library for an evening after Lambert had been cracking rather tasteless jokes that sounded less like jokes and more like promises to the other two. He barely even sat down in a chair, casting a lazy igni at the fireplace when the door banged open and the three marched in.

“Eskel, this is getting ridiculous,” Lambert declared.

A hissed “stick to the plan” from Aiden shut him up and Cahir stood in front of Eskel.

“You know I’m fucking these two, right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought you’d be jealous. Or have something to say about it.”

Eskel mulled over his words before taking a deep breath. “I wish you all the utmost happiness with each other.”

It seemed that despite his insistence at sticking to the plan, Aiden had lost his patience. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Eskel, Lambert’s been in love with you for a decade. Cahir came to us asking for help because he’d in love with you. I’ve grown very fond of you over the last few years and could love you if only you’d let me.”

Mind blank, Eskel looked at the three in front of him. “Is this an intervention?”

“Yes!” Three voices chorused.

Maybe Eskel wasn’t as sharp as he thought he was. If what the others were saying was true, he had missed near enough a decade of flirting from Lambert, or Aiden trying to get to know him better, a year of Cahir subtly trying to return his gestures of affection. Now that he thought about it, Eskel realised that Cahir really did always seem to have on hand the oils he preferred for his swords, a sweet bun every time they were near a town and could afford a treat. There were so many incidents that Eskel had thought were simply friendly. They were friendly but also had a deeper meaning.

“Oh dear,” he chuckled. “I’ve been rather silly, haven’t I?”

“Now will you let us love you?” Lambert asked, almost pleading. The only reply Eskel had was a nod and opening up his arms.

#eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #laiden #lambert/cahir #eskel/cahir #lambskel #lambert/eskel #get together #tldr: eskel thinks he isn't worthy of a boyfriends. he ends up with three

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pollenat · 3 years

Text

TXT and 5 ways to say I love you

YEONJUN

A stray glance you catch by an accident. Smile that instantly blooms on his face, strong enough to have you turning away, because of how shameless it feels to be its subject. The instant need to look again. Struggling for just a few seconds. In the end, your eyes are returning to catch his again. The smile that has slightly fallen in the meantime returns to its full glory. Now with an undertone of humor your shyness has caused.

Watching the cloudy outdoors. People are running in different directions, eager to escape the nasty weather. As some pull coats tighter to hide from the cold, you chew on a hot noodle, secure in the warm insides of a restaurant. You’re so taken by the spectacle, you don’t notice an approaching face. Yeonjun kisses the corner of your lips. He’s all proud smirks, because he caught you off guard. Though you’re embarrassed, you don’t push him away.

The need to be closer. Breathe in his smell. Find the imperfections that perfect him. Feel the texture of his stiff eyelashes. Shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Gaze at the nail he accidentally cut too short. Skim both the softness and the roughness of his skin. Hear emotion in the tone of his voice. Look at him and feel alive. That’s why missing him when he’s gone is so difficult. You can’t keep your mind clear for long enough. All you can do is need, need and need.

Standing on your own, only to be approached before you can get lonely. A warm embrace is the first to welcome you, though you haven’t registered its bearer yet. Sure, it’s obvious - there’s no one else who’d do so other than Yeonjun, but his appearance needs to be acknowledged by your mind before you can relax in his hold. Warmth rests against the side of your head. Though your surroundings are loud, his breath breaks through. There’s something therapeutic to its presence, but you don’t voice the thought aloud. Instead, you lean towards the source of affection.

The waterfall of messages, marked by constant ringing. Your phone is turned downwards. It vibrates violently against the wooden surface of a night table. Tired, shaken and, in a way, empty inside, you finally reach for it. Your eyes do their best not to read the words. It’s the settings you’re looking for. Profile? Silent. Though the notifications don’t stop coming, you welcome the lack of irritating sound effects with relief. Just as you’re about to put the phone away, a stray word catches your attention. Please.

SOOBIN

The laughable lack of space in the photobooth. Soobin’s crescent-like eyes are watching your wide smile of embarrassment as you struggle to fit legs inside. His hand is keeping you from falling out of the booth. The two of you lean as close to one another as possible, so your faces are caught by the built-in camera. The seconds of panic in-between blinding flashes are made of ideas, but no confidence on how to pose next. What could have been is realized while waiting for the pictures to develop. When it’s done, your heads knock from laughing at the chaotic final product.

Lying on the floor during a particularly hot Summer day. The wooden panels are cold - a stark contrast to the suffocating warmth of air. You can’t move, nor do you want to. Soobin’s face is turned towards yours. He tries a smile, but you can tell he’s about to fall asleep. A bead of sweat is rolling down his forehead. You catch it, but do not take your hand away from Soobin’s skin. Like a kitten, he cuddles to the opened palm. Fingers close on your forearm to keep it in place.

The simplicity of him saying just a few words. They’re nothing big, the most used words among humans, one would think. And yet, coming from Soobin’s lips and meant for you - they gain an impossible strength. One that seems enough to lift your spirits at the end of an exhausting day. One that has you proud even of the smallest of achievements. One that makes the difference. Though Soobin doesn’t seem aware of the effect he has on your mood, he doesn’t need encouragement to continue spoiling you with simple, but magical words.

A fogged window. Though you can easily make out the familiar silhouette, you stay back, waiting for him to make the first move. Soobin’s hand raises to draw a shape in the colorless space. He’s slow and meticulous, careful as to not make any mistake in his adaptation of a heart. When the starting point meets with the ending one, he clears the space inside. A dark eye - now the only sharp shape - winks at you through, sending a wave of warm feelings along.

He should be mad. You’re mad, so why can’t he be as well? Instead of cursing, screaming, talking, he just sits with head hung. Quiet, sad rather than angry. You cannot find a voice to attack him for that. No arguments are given back. Soobin is silent. You want to leave and you announce so, but he catches your forearm to pull you back. Though you’re tense, his arms embrace you. As if a simple hug could fix everything wrong with the situation. As if you weren’t boiling inside. As if his silence wasn’t more hurtful than the possible words.

BEOMGYU

The bubbles of excitement, and how they keep you feeling light. Catching your own smile in a mirror. Lacking certainty when picking your clothes. Smelling yourself just to make sure. Looking at your phone in case he left a message. Checking your teeth before leaving. Smiling at your own need for speed, because you may see Beomgyu a little bit quicker. Looking at the passersby in hope of meeting his humored gaze. Hearing a snicker before turning to see him. Finally.

Grinning like an idiot, at least so you tell yourself. Through the timelessness of Beomgyu’s teasing, he has never once said so about your smiles. But you do feel like it’s the best way to describe it - idiotic. Because how come you’re reacting so strongly to something as natural as Beomgyu’s side profile? Just a look at him and you’re all smiles. How come just a brief meeting of your hands has your skin sweating, and you’re stuck between the embarrassment of sudden intimacy as well as the need to close the useless distance.

The darkness. You can barely make out his features, though he’s centimetres away. A ray of light places a face-long scar on his right cheek. Beomgyu pulls the zipper down to erase it. Now it’s completely black. The edges of his face are just memories your brain puts in front of you. He giggles, breath blowing at your lips. A small piece of nowhere you can forget yourself in. Beomgyu’s fingers return to your awaiting hand, though it’s happening outside the bubble of hoods zipped together. Inside, your mouth meets another in a toast to the small kingdom of obliviousness.

Pulling duvet over your head at night. Biting on your knuckles. Curling toes. You try everything to stop yourself from making noise, although the need for laughter has your throat itching. With wide eyes staring at the light screen of your phone, you type down a quick response. Thumb hesitates before pressing the send button. You reread the answer, anxious to make it as funny as possible. As soon as the cloud of text changes colors, a small icon of Beomgyu’s head appears next to it

Biting your lips to keep them from opening. You don’t want them to tremble, or release hurtful words. The stiff silence is a stark contrast to Beomgyu's loud words of pure annoyance. At that moment you feel like crawling beneath the ground to lie there for eternity. He wouldn’t notice. You’re facing his back as he continues counting down all the little sins that have brought you to the point of (what seems like) no return - the hell on Earth, where Beomgyu’s face is no longer illuminated by his branded mischevious smile.

TAEHYUN

The whoosh of wind as you swing forward. Its cold kisses being placed on the shells of your ears. Fingers sliding down the chains, the metallic smell mixing with your palms’ sweat. Another hand closing on yours to stop the swing. Cringing at the weak jerk the sudden ending causes. Taehyun’s small smile, such a natural sight for your eyes. A duet of ice cones locked in the hold of his other hand. The feeling of freezing cold on your chin when he swipes the ice against it. His laughter that follows.

The words of affection you didn’t know you needed. They’re said in the company of a sincere gaze and although it’s overpowering, you hold it. Arms circle around you, gentle and slow. It’s as if you were a young deer that could escape him any moment. But you’re not. Though tortured, with sadness hidden in the depths of your chest, you want the comfort to overtake you. You want him to be the reason everything is worth it, because what is life without reason?

Surprising him and the excitement that overtakes you, seconds before he jumps in place, then screams. Taehyun looks annoyed. No wonder, you expect as much. His cheeks are squished. Endearment you’re feeling for the boy has you drowning in warmth. Though Taehyun is gently pushing you away, both of you know he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. Childish giggling accompanies your playfight, because that’s how you feel around him - free and fresh, like a child.

Hiding behind hands when you’re laughing. Though the humor has overtaken you, the insecurity hasn’t. Fingers dig into the skin of your cheeks as the spasms of laughter raise in strength. Taehyun’s shaking in his spot as well, but he takes a moment to reach forward. The fingers are pulled away and to your sides, now interlaced with his. Even if you want to turn away, you have nowhere to escape. Not as long as he has the hold on your hands, therefore, a hold on you.

His chin held up high, eyes cold, lips twisted. Though just a second ago you missed him to pieces, now that he’s close, you wish to be as far away from him as possible. You’re not used to that cold version of Taehyun, even if you’re aware of its existence. The lack of clear answers he has to your questions is unnerving. You know he’s waiting for an apology, but you don’t want to give him one. The argument was mutual, and you’re just as hurt by its aftermath. It will take you a while to heal the wounds caused by stabbing words.

HUENING KAI

A chaotic collection of scenes being played on the TV. You cannot figure out the plot, but you do not care much for it. The author won’t know of your small offence anyways. What you’re paying attention to, is the sound of calm breathing. It comes from a face leaning against the top of your head. You can feel the softness of a cheek splayed against your own skin. The shoulder you’re using as a pillow raises along with Kai’s deep breaths. His left hand lies on your thigh, motionless. Fingers twitch every time the volume raises.

Running down a road in the evening. Kai’s hand is secured in your grip, the sound of his irregular breathing mixes with yours. The streetlights cast shadows you pass on the way. Thunder resonates in the background. Small droplets of rain start their descent from the sky. Quite a few land on your head. Before you can make it to the bus stop, the rain turns heavy. Kai pulls you underneath the stop’s roof. You’re standing chest to chest, completely soaked, watching the wall of rain you’re no longer the victim of.

The weight of a heavy arm on your shoulders. It’s warmth spreads through the back of your neck, keeping you safe from the oh so dangerous room temperature. With head empty, you stare at nothing in particular. The conversation Kai is having with his friend doesn’t reach your ears though you’re practically glued to the boy’s side. Somehow having him close makes you forget all about the rest, whatever it may be. Plush on your forehead. You realize it’s a kiss from Kai. Though he doesn’t look at you, s smile blossoms on your features.

Holding onto the corner of his jacket. Kai doesn’t comment your bad mood, but you see the acknowledgement written on his face. There’s a small sympathetic smile that turns teasing every now and then. Kai doesn’t grab your hands, instead waits for you to make the first move. The fact has your eyes saddened. It’s unfair how well he can sync with your emotions. Like he’s a guardian angel of sorts. Kai sends you another smile over his shoulder, but moved, you do not return it.

The infuriating lack of response. You talk, voice raised, knuckles white, and he’s turned away from you, lips closed, back tense. Though you grab his hand, he instantly pulls it free. When you try to stand in front of him, he just turns away. No eye contact, no direct words. He’s infuriating, raising the temperature of your boiling blood. You’ve had enough of yourself and you want him to talk back, but he won’t. No matter how much steam raises from your head, he won’t answer.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#i'd like to dedicate watching the rain with kai to cat & dog's prechoruses #txt fanfiction #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt fluff #txt angst #txt x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop headcanons #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop x reader #boy group

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

hurts like hope

Pairing: M!Detective/Mason Word Count: 3100 Summary: Detective Juniper Fenn tries to figure out just what the limit on his incorrigible hope is, and when he’ll finally be able to stomp it out.

Hello I Am Here With More Self-Indulgent Character Study Nonsense. For $8000 a month, I Will Stop.

CW for vague descriptions/references to sex

Nothing has ever hurt Juni like hope has.

He wouldn’t call himself an optimist by any means. He’d probably settle on “optimistic pessimist” if pressed, which means always expecting the worst, because at least then he’s either right or pleasantly surprised.

But in spite of that philosophy, there’s a stupid, naive part of him that won’t die, no matter how much it’s beaten down—his dumb, desperate hope.

He hoped doing the best he could in school, never getting into trouble, never arguing with Mum or making her feel guilty for leaving him behind would show her he was good enough to acknowledge in more than impersonal letters and distracted phone calls on major occasions.

He was always disappointed.

He hoped working a job he didn’t care about, that didn’t suit someone as soft-hearted and anxious as he was, would make him feel closer to the memory of his father, would make him feel like he was doing something good enough to make people care about him like they did Dad.

Disappointed again.

He hoped letting Bobby walk all over him, use him, and placate him with saccharine-sweet murmurs of “Oh, angel, you’re so good to me” would make him see Juni as more than just a convenience, a doormat and a stepping stone to bigger, better things that would always matter more than Juni’s ever mattered to anyone.

The repetition got exhausting, after a while.

When he meets Mason, he thinks he’s given up on hoping. At that point, he just wants something for himself. He wants to be selfish. He wants to be wanted, even if it’s just for a tumble or two. Even if it’s just because his stupid, special blood suddenly means he’s catnip for supernaturals. Even if it doesn’t mean anything.

I’m doing this for me, he tells himself when Mason’s touching him for the first time, when strong, calloused hands are dancing up his sides, and he tries to shrink away, suck in his gut, and Mason squeezes with a pleased little growl that makes Juni whimper. I’m doing something for me, for once in my fucking life.

The lights are off. They crashed through the door without turning anything on, but Juni knows Mason can see him just fine anyway, and he wants to squirm, wants to hide, but Mason distracts him with a very thorough kiss, his touches gentle until Juni responds positively, his sharp eyes picking him apart, like figuring out what the detective likes is the only assignment that’s ever mattered.

And then Mason calls him stunning, and he’s done for.

He’s sure that’ll be it. One and done, and Mason will forget all about the messy, bumbling detective now that he’s whet his appetite. It hurts to think about, it hurts to hope, so he doesn’t.

(That’s a lie. He does. He always does, because he’s stupid.)

He tries to bury the hope like he’s done before, but it’s no use. Every time Mason sits as close to him as possible without physically touching him, every time he gives him one of those long, smoky looks, every time he puts out a cigarette when Juni asks or just doesn’t light one at all, every time he touches Juni with a gentleness that feels almost reverent, like Juni is something worth treating carefully, it fights back harder, hopes louder. In just a few months, the vampire’s got Detective Juniper Fenn’s fragile little heart on a string, and he doesn’t seem to know it.

If he did, would he even care?

Juni gets his answer before long.

He’s only seen me naked.

He told himself he wouldn’t hope. He wasn’t hoping. He knows better. He should know better.

But he hoped, and it hurt, and it’s exactly what he deserves, isn’t it? Once bitten, twice shy, and all that, but Juni’s been bitten so many times, and he never shies enough for it to matter. He walks right on into the hurt with open arms, like a moth to a flame, to a fucking bug zapper, and just licks his wounds until the next flame comes along to reduce him to ash all over again.

When will he learn?

If nothing else, he’s resilient. It’s one of the few things he’s got going for him. He knows how to roll with the punches and pretend everything’s fine, because he’s been doing it since he was old enough to know crying for his Mum wouldn’t do anything but give him a headache. So he runs out of Haley’s in tears—she’s known him since school, so she knows he’s a crybaby and won’t tell a soul—but at least he knows how to calm himself down before he walks into the station. He plasters on a smile, cracks a few jokes, and everything’s fine and dandy.

And then Juni’s fucking ceiling explodes and his room floods, because nothing can go right in his life. At least it wasn’t some supernatural attack this time, he supposes. Small mercies.

Of course, it’s got to be Mason who greets him, when he’s soaked to the skin and covered in plaster, and still recovering from seeing Mr. Yu naked.

And Mason apologizes.

The hope he thought had finally, finally died the slow, painful death it deserved springs back to life in his chest like one of those inflatable clown punching bags. He wants to be annoyed, because an apology doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot if you don’t even know why you’re apologizing, and it feels more like Mason’s blaming Juni for having feelings (stupid, stupid feelings) rather than actually taking accountability for causing hurt, but he’s an idiot, so of course he reaches out, takes Mason’s hand, and asks the dumbest question he’s asked in his life. And he still has to Google literally every odd sound his car makes, because the poor thing is held together with duct tape and dreams at this point.

“What does this mean for us?”

And he’s blown off again, and when the hope shrivels up this time, he wants to grind it into the dirt with his heel, salt the earth so nothing grows there again, because really, when is he going to fucking learn? He wonders how Mum just turns off her feelings, and if that sort of thing can be taught. He wonders if she’d make the time to teach him, now that she’s “trying.”

He wonders if Dad was as much of a raw nerve of a person as he is, but it’s not as if he can ask anyone about it.

"You two… One of you is going to have to make the big leap, and he has no idea how."

Felix has never been shy about needling Juni about his ridiculous and obvious whatever-it-is with Mason (calling it a crush seems as childish as it is reductive, since he doubts it can be called a crush anymore once you’ve, uh, had sex) but this time it comes out... Softer. Gentler. Definitely annoyed, groaned out with a hearty eye roll, as if the two of them are personally responsible for all of Felix’s woes, but still... kind. Kinder than he expected, and that is enough to throw him off for Felix to leave him behind before he can even shake him and ask him what the hell that’s supposed to even mean.

No idea how?

Mason’s confusion when he apologized strikes a new chord, suddenly. Mason doesn’t know how he fucked up, just that he did. In a normal circumstance, with a normal guy, Juni would assume he was just being a dick. Of course he didn’t do anything he saw as wrong, he’d just be apologizing to get back into Juni’s good graces—and also his pants. It was certainly Bobby’s MO.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they? And Mason’s not a normal guy.

Juni doesn’t want to think about what he saw in the mirror at the carnival, but if he were any good at not thinking about things that upset him, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, trying to clear it of the splashes of red, of the screaming, and he swallows until he can calm himself down.

At least he can distract himself with drumming up signatures for the blood drive. He thinks he can. But Mason is there, and he’s distracting, aloof and unamused and annoyingly gorgeous, and Juniper Fenn never professed to be a terribly strong man. There’s a gut-deep urge that draws him to the vampire, an itch under Juni’s skin to get close, poke at that sneering facade and see the softer bits underneath.

Juni’s seen so many of those softer bits, far more than he thought he could ever get when he tumbled into bed with Mason for the first time. He honestly expected to be ignored entirely once he gave him what he was after in the first place, but instead he was given little fragments of something more, and sentimental idiot he is, he’s been hoarding them and trying to cobble together something from the scraps he’s been given. So he drifts closer, pulled helplessly into Mason’s orbit, and he doesn’t even know what to say, so he just laughs awkwardly and needles Mason about not helping.

Which… works, somehow?

It doesn’t exactly go where he’s expecting it to go, conversation-wise, and he’s left reeling with Mason’s stark, shameless honesty. There’s something that warms him, knowing that the vampire seems to, if nothing else, respect him, in his own way? That anyone, much less someone as difficult to impress as Mason, thinks he’s good enough? Not just good enough, but ‘better than pretty much anyone’ he knows? Juni’s known Mason long enough at this point to understand some things about him, and one of the most obvious is how loyal he is. Loyalty is everything to Mason, and he’s fiercely protective of those that have earned it.

Juni’s fingers are slack enough with surprise that Mason can take the board from him and wander off to frighten the general populace into signing up for the blood drive, and Juni is left with his heart fluttering in a very damning way.

Don’t be an idiot, he tells himself fiercely, shaking his head as if that will rid himself of the pointlessly painful affliction he’s tried for years to shrug off. Just because he likes you as a person doesn’t mean he wants anything else with you.

Whatever weirdness still lingers between the two of them, Unit Bravo’s company makes what would have been a really boring, lonely task actually pretty fun, between Felix dancing around and chatting happily at any citizen of Wayhaven drawn into his orbit, Adam and Nate working together like a well-oiled machine to collect and transfer signatures, and Mason looking genuinely confused whenever someone is brave enough to weather his thunderous expression for the chance to chat with him, however briefly.

It’s nice to be with them all, and their comfortable rapport and playful banter makes it surprisingly easy for Juni to brush his confusing feelings aside and just be, for a while. At least until the banter halts sharply, and every eye is looking over his shoulder. “Hello, angel.”

Juni closes his eyes and stiffens, jaw clenching as a shudder ripples through him. No, no, no, not him. Not today.

Juni's relationship with Bobby was never terribly comfortable, but he’s always been something of a boiling frog cautionary tale. Bobby is not the sort of person who ever turns off the persona. He was rarely ever just Bobby, and Juni knows that hasn't really changed. While they dated, even when they were dumb kids, Juni was always stuck in the shadow cast by someone so desperate to stand in a spotlight they stepped on everyone they claimed to love in order to feel even a shred of that artificial warmth. Juni supposes he wasn’t much different, only the artificial warmth he craved came from Bobby.

He has no idea why Bobby is still so hung up on him. Juni always got the feeling he was never more than the road of least resistance to Bobby. He was easy. Low-maintenance. Didn’t kick up a fuss over being talked over and ignored, because not only was he used to that sort of thing, he was just so grateful to be anyone’s anything, he’d let the man get away with murder just to keep that illusion of happiness.

“What the hell did you just call him?” Mason snarls, stalking to Juni’s side. Juni’s trying to keep calm, trying not to turn into a complete disaster of a person under the sudden stress, but his fluttering awareness of the vampire is crashing into his shrieking fear of confrontation and turning into a messy cocktail that he knows all four vampires can sense. Vaguely, and a little frantically, he wonders if he just smells like anxiety all the time, if anxiety has a smell. It probably does.

“I… always call him that.”

He does, always has, and back when Juni was blindly obsessed with everything he pretended Bobby was, he convinced himself it was cute. Looking back, it always felt sleazy and fake, but Juni’s a master of nothing more than he’s a master of ignoring his own discomfort.

“Not anymore you don’t.” Mason takes another step forward, and for a moment Juni’s terrified he’s going to start a goddamned brawl in the middle of the square. There’s a mean little part of him that wouldn’t completely hate that, but thankfully that’s outweighed by the sensible part that knows he’d be the one stuck dealing with the aftermath. He’s reaching out to try and stop Mason from escalating things further when Adam, thankfully, intercedes.

And then Mason returns to Juni’s side, and a strong arm slips around his waist and hauls him close. His heartbeat goes crazy, and he can only be grateful that none of Unit Bravo are telepathic, because he’s sure his brain is making godawful dial-up noises. It’s a struggle to maintain politeness, but he does his best. Bobby, at least, seems to realize now is not a good time to try and pick at Juni’s defenses, with four government agents backing him up, one of whom has a possessive arm looped pointedly around him.

"Just because he's being polite, doesn't mean he wants you here.” Well, Mason’s greatest skill is reading people, and he’s probably figured out that Juni’s go-to defense mechanism is to pretend everything is fine and dandy and smile, smile, smile no matter what. Still, his protectiveness (if that’s what it is?) makes Juni’s stomach squirm. Mason’s almost baring his teeth at Bobby, who hopefully will not notice that his canines are a bit sharper than a normal human’s should be. “So piss off.”

Thankfully, Bobby is the sort of person who doesn’t like to start fights he’s not sure he can win, so he leaves with, of course, a sleazy parting shot that makes Juni shudder. He really, really hopes Bobby doesn’t find him when he’s alone. He’s got enough mental stress on his plate at the moment, thank you very much, Bobert.

He tries not to make a sad little noise when Adam ushers them back to work, which means Mason pulls away from him, but he’s not sure how successful he is, given the long look he gets from those smoky grey eyes. He throws himself into the work of cleanup to avoid anymore uncomfortable conversations, because he thinks he’s exceeded his quota for the day.

Of course, he thinks that, but he never knows when to quit, and he winds up sidling up to Mason again, fueled, once again, by hope.

He wants to smack himself with a rolled-up newspaper.

What’s the definition of madness, again? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? He wonders if Mum still has his old therapist on retainer. He bets she’d have a field day with whatever the hell he’s doing now. She’d probably be able to retire with the royalties from a paper picking apart his myriad neuroses and subtle self-destructive tendencies. Maybe he should ring her. Someone deserves to profit from his ridiculous inability to take a bloody hint, and it’s certainly not going to be him.

But, God, Mason’s hands are on him, tugging him in, and he’s helpless under that stormy stare, he had not a chance in hell to resist, not when Mason is being soft, and open, and what the hell does any of this mean?

Juni sometimes wishes he’d resisted when Mason first started teasing him, turned him down, tried to keep things professional and friendly rather than stumbling all over himself at the first sign of interest. He wouldn’t mind at all if Mason just wanted to be friends, because at least then he could still be close, still bask in the steadfast loyalty and companionship of a man who would take a bullet for any one of his team—his family—and Juni could keep his heart intact. But he knows without a doubt he never stood a chance. So he sinks into the attention, leaning into it like a flower towards the sun, bares his soft throat and softer heart and hopes against hope he won’t be torn open and left to bleed.

It’s never gone well for him before, but optimistic pessimism and all that. He’ll either get exactly what he expects and deal with the painful consequences like he always has, plastering on a smile until he can go cry alone and listen to sad music to remember how to face the world again, or the battered, bruised hope that won’t fucking die will finally, finally be rewarded.

Mason’s smile when Juni pitifully asks “That’s it?” leaves him breathless and dizzy in a way just a smile has no right to, but it’s so warm, so open and sweet, it blindsides Juni when he’s already weak. He’s completely helpless. Absolutely done for. Nate’s disapproval is hardly a blip on the embarrassment radar, because Juni is floating.

And, as if Mason isn’t satisfied with just completely rendering him a puddle, he hops off the table with a quick peck on the cheek and saunters off to clean up, leaving Juni’s scrambled thoughts to chase themselves around in a circle. It was just a chaste little kiss. It shouldn’t even mean anything.

Of course, to Juni, it means everything.

For once, just once, without mentally whacking himself with a broom, Juni tentatively allows himself to hope.

#the wayhaven chronicles #specialist agent mason #specialist agent m #twc fanfic #twc detective #pidge writes #oc: juniper fenn #HERE IT GOES HERE IT GOES AGAIN #this one technically comes before the other one ive posted #i just posted that one first bc of the way things appear on tumblr #so you hit this one first and then that one #that makes sense right?#hhhhhh anyway here's some more character study nonsense for juni #bc thats where im at i guess #its all v long and disjointed but thats what my brain is doing so uh #¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

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astertataricvs · 4 years

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A night to remember || Yoriichi Tsugikuni x Reader

Just as I promised everyone, I wrote an NSFW one-shot for Yoriichi LMAO. I do apologize for taking so long to post this. Hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.7k

WARNING: NSFW!

Yoriichi kissed you with passion as he started to slip you out your kimono and untie your obi without breaking the kiss. Your arms were encircled around his neck while he’s slowly discarding your clothes and the kimono finally slipped out from your shoulders. The kiss was full of love and you can feel it, due to how he’s gently kissing you as if you were some kind of an angel that he doesn’t want to break or shatter. Hormones started to consume your whole wellbeing since the overwhelming emotions you have for your husband was making your brain go vague and the only thing that is in your mind right now is how you love this man with all your heart.

You have known him as the mysterious and quiet man, you admire him from afar and you knew how strong Yoriichi is because of how he would easily slaughter the demons without any effort at all. At first, he intimidates you because of the unusual aura that he was emitting and the way his eyes bore into you like you’re going to melt in an instant by just his stare. However, as time passed by, you mustered up your courage to approach the quiet lad, and you were really glad that you’re the one who approached him because he was actually the sweet and caring man that was indeed shocking for you.

You thought that he’s the kind of guy that would ignore you and hostile but actually, he’s the exact opposite of what you had deemed off. Moreover, you never thought that this man in front of you – the one you’re kissing right now, would actually be your husband. You always thought that you two won’t ever be together because you’re not on the same level as Yoriichi and there are more beautiful women than you and more deserving to be with him.

In spite of that, Yoriichi still chose you to be his wife, and you couldn’t ask for more. Being the wife of the strongest known samurai in the land is already enough for you and felt contented.

Yoriichi started to discard his clothes as you still didn’t break the kiss, pushing him closer to you, feeling your back pressed against the comfy futon, your husband had finally removed his clothes and let you wrap your arms around him like you won’t ever let go. His calloused and rough hands began to press your hips to hold you still. You encircled your legs around his waist and pushed him into you, feeling the erection of Yoriichi grazing on your stomach that causes you to elicit a breathy moan.

The sun breath user also grunted as your hands tightly grabbed his red long locks and nipped his bottom lip. You’re fully aware that he doesn’t have any idea about these kinds of things since you know that he’s the typical innocent man and his attention was only focused on slaying the demons and finding his lost twin brother, Michikatsu. Despite the fact that it’s been years since his brother went missing, Yoriichi is still dedicated on finding him and won’t stop searching for him until he found him.

Heat began to course through your bodies as you can sense that your consciousness and rationality were being submerged by the pure lust that you have for your husband. Moreover, you would be lying if you say that you’re not fantasizing about your husband ever. How can you not fantasize your husband when he’s too sexually irresistible?

Yoriichi began to kiss your jawline and plant soft kisses while his hands were gripping your waist to hold you still, closing your eyes, your husband immediately latched his lips on your neck, lightly sucking the patches of your skin which causes you to let out a low growl. Yoriichi’s ears perked upon hearing your moan that was seriously a melodious thing to hear. He never encountered this kind of sound from you, it was all too foreign for him, especially the heat that was absorbing his wellbeing as if his mind and eyes were becoming foggy due to his lust that he has for you. This new sensation was making him want to feel more about you, touch every part of your body and mark you as his, he was longing for your delicate touch that he couldn’t get enough. It seems like every graze of your fingertips on his skin was making the hairs of his body rise and feel the flow of electricity dancing in his nerves.

Once he was satisfied by sucking your neck, his lips glided towards your shoulder blades, giving butterfly kisses making you feel tingly inside and become lost in your own world. The feeling of desire was overwhelming your sanity, wanting more of your husband, yearning more of his touch and want to feel his everything. His left-hand caresses your waist, slowly drawing circles as if soothing you and restricting himself to reach your underboob.

Despite that he was excited to feel your everything, he’s controlling himself from hurting you, he doesn’t want to lose his sanity even if he was gradually submerging into the depths of his lust, mind being clouded with all of you; writhing underneath him as he worked his magic on you. Yoriichi wants you to feel special, he wants you to know how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, he wants you both to remember this night that you’ve been waiting for.

Yoriichi’s body jolted ever so slightly as he felt your hands on his exposed chest, slowly moving down until to his abdomen. He couldn’t help but inhale a sharp breath while feeling how you rubbed your hands in his stomach, and he could tell that you’re restricting yourself as well from reaching the tent that was growing on his crotch. His mind was becoming hazy as he was relishing the warmth of your hands working on his stomach, tracing your pointer finger on the contour of his abs, as if taunting him to screw you in an instant.

“Yoriichi…” your whisper sent shivers to his spine as your breath grazes in his ears, he turned his head to look at you, only to stare in your eyes that was blatantly clouded with pure lust and yearning. “I want you to touch me…”

Your statement had caught him off guard, mouth dropping as he stares at you intently, like you were some kind of demon that he was waiting to slay, but in this situation, he wants you to feel good rather than feel the excruciating pain that he’d inflicted to the demons.

“(Name)…” his voice was low and gentleness was evident in his tone, he was scrutinizing you with a mix of concupiscence and passion that he harboured until now.

The side of your lips hauled as you confer him an assuring gaze before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Please… Yoriichi…” you take his hand and guided it all the way to your breast, the sun breath user hitched as he felt the soft skin of your mounds against his hand, feeling your erect nipples poking in his palms.

Yoriichi was a bit hesitant, but regardless of that, his mind was being clouded by his lust and the only thing that was stirring his mind is to pleasure you, craving for the pleasure that he wants to feel. He was surprised of himself, feeling this new sensation that was too uncontrollable, specifically when it’s you.

Just what you were signifying, Yoriichi leaned down to capture your lips with his, kissing you with so much hunger, and you can feel how he’s been waiting for this to happen. His tongue was licking your bottom lip, giving you a hint to what he wants to do. Without reluctance, you opened your mouth to give him an entrance, feeling his wet muscle intruding in and explored it in every angle of your mouth.

You squeaked upon feeling your husband groping your breast with gentleness, making you muffled a moan and wrapped your legs around his waist. Yoriichi groaned once he felt your clothed womanhood grazing on his crotch, halting him for a second from caressing your breast in his hand. He sucked your tongue with fervour and his work on your mounds becoming aggressive as the seconds tick, you couldn’t help but helplessly moan in your kiss and Yoriichi retracted his mouth with a thin of saliva connecting your lips’.

Once again, Yoriichi gave you soft kisses on your throat, slowly descending on your collarbones until he reaches your thorax. Your chest heaves as he plants butterfly kisses on the skin of your breast, evading his lips to touch your nipples. It was sexually frustrating, Yoriichi avoiding the spot where you want him to do his next work. But before you can say a word, he catches you off guard by suddenly sucking your left breast while he was kneading the other. You howled once you feel his hot mouth on your breast, you couldn’t help but elicit a slutty moan as a wave of electricity running in your veins, making your mind to become hazier as it was.

Yoriichi muffled a moan once he felt your nails digging on the skin of his broad back, but didn’t hinder him from sucking your breast. You can feel your lower region becoming wet in every ministration of your husband that he’d perform.

As your sanity was slowly losing, your lust overwhelms your brain and gives you the courage to grab Yoriichi’s crotch, not caring if you’re being shameless, you only seek for pleasure, you want more, craving for Yoriichi.

You sensed him flinch when you grab his crotch and started to rub him on his underwear. Yoriichi stopped from sucking you and feel his breath becoming uneven as you rubbed him with fervency. You look at him with half-lidded eyes, only to find him closing his eyes and stifling his moan from your ministration.

“(Name)…” his voice was husky, making your pussy clenched because of how erotic he sounds like.

Before you can slip your hands in his underwear, Yoriichi had already stopped you and darted his eyes at you with lust congesting in his irises. You swallowed upon meeting his hawk-like eyes as if you’re gonna melt in his stare. Trembling, you pulled your hand away and Yoriichi started to remove your last clothing, causing you to let out a yelp once the cold air brushed your womanhood.

“I can’t control myself anymore, (Name), forgive me,” he says then plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

You smiled, “Don’t hold back.”

At your statement, Yoriichi slips the underwear that was caging his erect manhood for the whole endeavour that you both had for minutes. His long and thick cock had sprung free from its coop and wrapped his hand around it to place its head on your womanhood. Your breath hitched when you felt his girth poking on your entrance. Yoriichi peered at you, asking for approval. You heaved a breath before flashing him a faint smile before nodding your head in response.

Slowly, Yoriichi inserted his manhood in your slick folds in which you couldn’t handle yourself from moaning in pain since this is the first time you’ve done this. And your husband will be the one who’s gonna take your first, which is a good thing for you. Moreover, it’s his first time as well, that makes you two a virgin and taking your firsts.

Yoriichi moaned softly upon feeling the new sensation he was feeling in his cock, your walls were clenching around him that it’s giving him a pleasure that he’s been looking for. He opened his eyes and takes a glimpse at your face, showing such pain expression and tears were forming in the corner of your eyes.

This makes him alarmed and was about to pull away when you suddenly grabbed his hand to assure him that you’re fine, but Yoriichi wasn’t convinced from your answer, he’s utterly aware that he’s hurting you and he knew how it’s going to be painful for women. However, seeing you giving such reassuring smile, he stopped from his plan and complied. He didn’t move and let you adjust to his size, he merely watched you breathing heavily and cheeks were dusted in crimson shade. You don’t know how beautiful and erotic you are in Yoriichi’s eyes, it’s amplifying his heat and arousing him more because of such countenance. He hasn’t yet encountered you bestowing that kind of expression and he was delighted that he’s the only man who would sight that loving features of you.

Once you’re now fully okay, you told him to move, and Yoriichi gladly complied, slowly thrusting his hips, he closed his eyes upon feeling the pleasure, quietly groaning as he felt your walls tightly clenching around his girth.

You moaned, still feeling the pain in your lower region, it felt like Yoriichi’s manhood was tearing your body apart, slowly but surely. You knew how he was becoming gentle in his thrusts for him not to hurt you. Minutes had already passed; the pain had finally subsided and now was changed into pleasure.

“Yoriichi… please faster…”

Your erotic voice had rung in his ears, the said man wasted no time to thrust into you, breaking your walls and his momentum was becoming faster. Your moans became loud, reverberating in the room as the slapping of your skin was mixed with your moans that making him more aroused.

It felt so good, feeling your walls clenching around him and he couldn’t help but moan as well. His body heats up, making him motivated to thrust his hips faster to reach the orgasm that he was looking for. He holds your legs to place it on top of his shoulder to feel the very depths of your womb.

“A-Ahh! Y-Yoriichi!”

He lowly groaned, tightly holding your hips to keep in place, his thrust was deep and becoming sloppy, your toes curled and eyes rolling back because of the intense pleasure you were feeling at this instant. Yoriichi spreads your legs apart and pumped his hips into you, he dipped down to give you a passionate kiss while he was still thrusting inside you. The kiss was feverish, making your mind go misty, feeling the pleasure surging through your bodies. As he pulled his lips away, Yoriichi’s head fell on your shoulders as he could feel himself slowly reaching his peak. Your pussy clenching around him and you can feel that you’re gonna reach your climax as well, in his last two deep thrusts, you finally reached your orgasm, arching your back from the intense wave of pleasure washing over you and eyes rolling back.

A minute or two, Yoriichi reached his climax as well, groaning as he spurts his seeds inside your womb.

Yoriichi plopped himself at the top of you and slowly catch his breath because of the sexual intercourse you just had. Both of you didn’t speak a single word, only hearing your breaths that you were executing.

Yoriichi’s lips curled and pull you close to him before kissing you on the forehead, “I love you, (Name)… and thank you…”

You slowly craned your neck to look at him and watched him for a minute. You scrutinize the handsome features of your husband and afterwards, you run your fingers through his hair and pecked his nose.

“I love you as well, Yoriichi… I love you so much,” you said, and thus, snuggled into him.

You feel secured every time his arms were wrapped around you and feel his heat transporting to you, it’s as if he’s your human heater in the winter season. You love him with all of your heart, the same as Yoriichi. He loves you to the point he would do anything to protect you even if it would cost his life. He treasures you a lot and he was beyond happy from being your husband and you as his wife. It’s the best thing that ever happened to him.

And to this day, from what happened between you and him, it’s a night to remember.

#kimetsu no yaiba x reader #Kimetsu no Yaiba #yoriichi tsugikuni #yoriichi x reader #tsugikuni yoriichi x reader #tsugikuni yoriichi #kny #demon slayer #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #demon slayer scenarios #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfiction #yoriichi

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uwua3 · 4 years

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request: “Hello!! Just found your blog and I'm excited to see what you got installed for us. On that note, can I request Azuma x Reader who was Azuma's former client but they developed into a serious relationship? Thank you so much and looking forward to the rest of your writing!! 😊😊😊” — @sakura-1819

summary: azuma always left before morning came, but all you wanted him to do was stay

warnings: slut–shaming, derogatory “cat calling/wolf whistle” culture, violence, arguments

author’s note: i want to apologize for the long delay on this TT i hope you’re not too mad~ but you have every right to yell at me for taking so long !!!

word count: 3,357

music: high class women – jet black alley cat, lie – bts (jimin)

in your bed.

❄️🍶 yukishiro azuma

azuma knew all the red flags that came with spending the night with someone

if they asked to stay for breakfast? leave quickly, act like it’s against the contract (it’s not). didn’t let go in the morning? pretend to go to the bathroom and never come back. wanted to see him again during the daytime? azuma wouldn’t have them as his client anymore

azuma was the perfect cuddler—if you ignored his ability to trick anyone. he would lie and tell you sweet compliments that didn’t mean anything, he’d touch you the way you want but didn’t let you linger for too long, he would promise all these things with no intent to carry them out

he knew how to draw the line between romance and professionalism; azuma wasn’t going to deal with someone’s accidental developing feelings because he let someone fall in love with him

azuma was smooth like a snake and if you got too close, he wouldn’t hesitate to bite

he expected you to be another normal client. when he arrived to meet you in a nearby outdoor bar with an easy, practiced smile and natural ethereal appearance that made the whole room have their eyes on him, you were just like everyone else

your jaw nearly dropped, your eyes wide and skin flushed just from seeing him. he must have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, you almost spilled your drink over the bar countertop (how innocent, azuma just wanted to take you to bed right away)

when azuma walked in your direction with a charming wink, you seemed to have made the connection as you instantly looked away, staring down at your hands with an expression of embarrassment. of course you were caught admiring the one person who you’d go home with that night

“is this seat open?” azuma hummed, his footsteps silent like a cat. you wondered how stealthy someone could really be, he even sat down elegantly without making any noise. before you could contemplate the ethereal man’s unusual trait, azuma spoke with the same effect as the gods

“azuma, here at your service for tonight.” azuma said, his voice like velvet as he lightly laughed at the blush on your face. you stammered out your name in response. he repeated it, it sounded even better coming from him

as you looked back up, you took in the sight of azuma being absolutely radiant in the purple neon sign just behind him. the yellow fairy lights decorating the roof illuminated his sharp eyes in the same hue. he leaned his cheek on his hand, his thin fingers tapping on his face as a small smile graced his lips. in a way, his silver hair almost glowed purple in the night life and you were afraid if you blinked, he would disappear

(azuma really was too much to be real, or mortal, to be honest)

“my dear, i believe we will have the best night.” azuma giggled, gratefully taking an order from the bartender (he didn’t have to look to know someone bought it for him) as he winked over the rim of his drink

he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was the influx of alcohol in his system or the thrill of being in power, but you were a delight. you responded to his every word with a honest reaction, keeping light conversation easily as you slowly opened up to him. azuma liked you, perhaps you could hire him again and become one of his regulars

after hours of getting to know one another over drinks, it was time for azuma to escort you home as he offered his arm, a pretty smile on his face when you shyly took it. you were borderline drunk, but azuma’s high tolerance kept you safe as he helped you stand up like a gentleman would

before azuma could ask for your permission to take you home (even though he had it in your client details form), a heavy hand rested on his shoulder as his back went rigid. of course he knew where this was going to go, it didn’t mean the confrontation was desirable

azuma turned his head and forced a thin–lipped smile, an expression only a person tired of shameless cat calls and wolf whistles could make. the man must’ve been a regular with how much he reeked of alcohol, azuma almost scrunched his nose at the way the predator was staring at him like he was a piece of meat

“how much for a—” the sleazy man started and before azuma could even tell him to leave, the bastard stumbled back with a thud as he held his bleeding nose

oh my god, did you just punch that guy?

you were suddenly much taller, standing with andrenaline–rushed anger as you clenched your fists, ignoring the pain in your knuckles. you stood between the man and azuma, glaring up at the jerk like he wasn’t a foot taller than you

“what the hell is wrong with you?! he didn’t let you touch him!” you called him out, pushing him back even more as you stretched your arm out, keeping azuma behind you. you were staring down the guy, who cursed and knew he couldn’t hit you without getting kicked out

“whatever, not like you’re worth a fight anyways, whore.” the deadbeat swore before he lazily left, stumbling over his own feet as azuma rolled his eyes at the comment, boredly looking at his own nails with distaste. wolves really acted like they were the alpha

“fuck you!” you yelled after him in your drunken rage, about to chase after him before azuma held onto your wrist, acting neutral for the most part but he had a warning look in his eye, like it truly wasn’t worth it (like azuma wasn’t worth the drama that would come from the bar fight)

“you poor thing, your hand must be hurt.” azuma said, slipping his hand into yours as he lifted your knuckles to his lips. you paused amidst your frustration, letting out a sound of surprise as you became flustered under the sudden attention

(it was working, you were distracted enough to forget. thank god for that, azuma wouldn’t know what to do if you had gotten into a fight)

“let’s get you home.” azuma hailed a taxi like it was second nature, letting you in as he said the address (you didn’t ask why he already knew it), buckling you in safely and running his thumb over your tight fist

as azuma watched the city pass by his window in a blur of lights, he felt you lean your head on his shoulder. he tried not to, but azuma knew his whole body was tense when he felt your breath on his exposed neck (this was a little too close, but maybe you deserved it after the night you had)

“azuma...” you whispered and the way you said his name made him think you’ve known him for years, your chapped lips ghosted over his collarbone as azuma gulped, looking down to see your tired yet determined eyes. you weakly pointed at him, furrowing your eyebrows as you nodded like what you were about to say was fact

“you—you’re not a whore. you’re not, no one should—” you hiccuped and shook your head, continuing, “no one should, treat you like that. i’m sorry.” azuma hoped you didn’t notice his slightly shaky fingers as he pushed a loose strand behind your ear, you smiled despite the redness in your face

“it’s not your fault.” azuma reassured, running his hand through your hair as you hummed against him, not noticing how hard his heart was beating against his chest. was that a blush on his cheeks? there was no possible way, azuma ignored the heat in his face and blamed it on the drinks

“stay with me tonight.” you mumbled sleepily, moving closer to him. you were crossing so many lines and boundaries that azuma had every right to reprimand you right now, but for some reason, he didn’t. azuma lifted his arm so you’d lay under it, and he did so willingly

“of course, that’s what i’m here for.” the words left a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought, only for tonight

azuma helped you up the stairs to your apartment, patiently listening to you ramble about anything that crossed your mind. he unlocked your door with your keys you had fumbled with for a minute or so, took off your shoes at the foyer, and assisted you to your own bed

(you had to go change and he gave you your privacy by facing the wall, waiting for your confirmation to turn around and help you get into bed)

“you have a lovely apartment, thank you for inviting me into your home.” azuma said and you barely acknowledged him, muttering something about city rent as you climbed under your blankets. azuma tsked, gently sitting next to you as he lifted the pillow off your face with a soft smile (you looked especially angelic in this light)

“darling, i simply cannot let you sleep with your make up still on.” azuma insisted to which you ignored. you tried going back to sleep but azuma had already somehow found your make up remover

you didn’t react when azuma began doing it for you, lecturing you about the importance of skincare as he patted your cheek, saying you were too young to have wrinkles

azuma leaned in closer to carefully remove your lipstick, your sheets pooled around your hips as your eyes landed on his lips, tracing the shape of them and committing them to memory

was it too much to say drunk thoughts were honest thoughts? because you grabbed azuma’s wrist, unaware of your proximity to him as you breathed out what was on your mind in that moment

“you’re so beautiful.”

azuma’s breath stuttered in his throat, his hand freezing mid–air as he noticed the adoring look in your eyes. there were so many red flags already—the intense sincerity, you really did mean it

(maybe, that’s why he wanted to stay)

azuma was about to stand up and leave you to your own means, hoping your drunken state would forget him long in the morning. this was too much, you weren’t like his previous clients who were so superficial with their meticulously placed flattery. you were very much real and so unbearably honest it made him uncomfortable

yet, you had kept your grip on his arm, staring at him with confusion as you whined. “i thought you were staying?” you asked, and something in your expression made azuma stop as he looked out the window. the glass reflected his uncertainty, as the cars below raced on the empty streets

“azuma?” you asked again, about to get up before azuma joined you in bed, taking you in his arms regardless of the warning bells going off in his head

“go to sleep, my dear. it’s quite late.” azuma murmured, letting you rest your head against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, hiding into him. azuma made sure the blanket covered your frame as he pushed your hair from your face, positioning it in a way so you wouldn’t have to brush the knots out tomorrow

typically, he wouldn’t sleep for a majority of the night. his mind was like the city that never slept, overthinking every little thing he did earlier that meeting as he stared up at the ceiling, knowing it would be the last time he saw it. he would think about what time to leave, which mask he should put on tomorrow, who he was going to pretend to be

but with you, azuma didn’t even have time to overthink that night. when you dozed off, he had followed suit without another word

for the first time in his entire career, azuma woke up to an empty bed

azuma sat up, about to escape without anyone noticing before you entered the bedroom, stopping at the door frame with a sleepy smile and a wave of your spatula

“hi, azuma. care for some breakfast?” you inquired, the smell of something homemade wafting in from the kitchen as you leaned against the frame, your baggy tee shirt hanging past your shorts. your hair was tied up and azuma noticed you had smile lines around your eyes (he didn’t)

azuma knew this was his turn to leave, to politely decline and refuse to let anything happen between them. he did this every time, and it was never hard to say no. yet, azuma watched the sunlight stream in through your bedroom window, the dust floating in the air as a blue sky welcomed him to today

it almost felt like a dream, maybe he was still sleeping. if he was, azuma would let himself have this, just this once

you were glowing in the morning light and azuma couldn’t help but agree, getting out of bed to come eat with you in the dining area

your living space looked different during the day. it was lived–in, from what he could tell. of course your home felt like you, it was welcoming and open. azuma rested against the chair after he helped you bring the items to the table, insisting on setting up after all the hard work you’ve done

the pancakes weren’t perfect by any means, the circular shape irregular and had an unbalanced amount of chocolate chips & blueberries. the orange juice was nearly overflowing at the brim, the utensils slanted near the plate, the fruit overabundant and a mismatch of flavors. yet, azuma loved it, and you blushed when he told you that

“i–it’s no big deal. i wanted to thank you for the night before, it was the first time in a while i slept that well.” you laughed, brushing him off with a wave of your hand as you sat across from him. azuma bit his tongue to refrain from saying “me too” before he did something he never thought he would do: eat breakfast with someone

like last night, it was surprisingly easy. for some reason, it felt like azuma had met you before. like you guys were friends in a past life and already knew everything about each other, azuma found himself telling you things he hadn’t told others he’d known for years

it was like all the red flags were just flags now

when he thanked you for the meal, you invited him over again for another night. azuma agreed, going against every single one of his rules as he promised to see you again (he meant it this time)

azuma began seeing you in the daylight, staying past dawn and watching the sunrise

he complimented you but it was heartfelt, genuine, honest, like you deserved. he let you place your fingerprints upon his skin without warning, slowly becoming used to your presence around him. although he made few promises, azuma carried it out every single time

during nights when he couldn’t see you, when he was with another client, azuma would leave sooner just to see you the next day

it was one of those nights again. he didn’t know what time it was, but azuma was making his way towards his scheduled appointment as planned

his phone buzzed in his pocket, which he casually was about to reject before he noticed your contact blink up at him. azuma stopped, glancing around before answering, unsure why you were dialing him in the first place

“you know i have a—” azuma teased, about to hang up before a sniffle came from the other line. were you crying? azuma picked up on the sound of glass in the back, the stillness of your apartment apparent through the phone

“azuma, i want you here.” you slurred, clearly drunk like the first night he had with you. azuma continued towards the bar that was minutes away, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out why you were drinking in the first place

“like i said, i have a client right now.” azuma reasoned. wrong move. you huffed, gulping something before slamming the cup down on your counter. you must’ve been in your kitchen, probably leaning against your table with your phone against your ear. it was so like you, azuma knew where you were just based on the background noises

“why? am i not enough?” you asked and azuma paused, unsure of how much he could admit. he walked faster, letting the wind carry through your speaker for a moment before he spoke warily

“of course you are, angel, what makes you say that?”

silence. then another drink being poured. ah, liquid courage

“you go to every other person’s bed, when you should be with me.” you ranted, your syllables mixing together and enunciation unintelligible but he heard you perfectly clear. azuma was afraid of what was coming next, but before he could’ve stopped you, you kept going

“why do you go to them when you have me?” you asked, your voice cracking towards the end. azuma wanted to say something that would’ve made you feel better, but the bar was right there and his client waved from across the street

“you know it’s the same.” azuma said and the message was clear. you were a client to him, that was all (at least, that’s what he tried telling himself)

“it doesn’t have to be.” you weakly argued and azuma lowered his hand, signalling his guest to wait a moment as he forced a pleasant smile

“call me back when you’re done and tell me if things are going to change, azuma.”

a click. you had hung up. azuma swallowed the hitch in his throat as he walked over to his guest, at the same bar he met you before

everything reminded him of you. azuma could recall every detail: the way you were speechless and taken away the first time you met him, your foolish bravery and need to make things right as you stood off with a man that cat called him, your brutal honesty about your feelings and holding nothing back. azuma ordered the same drink you had that night, and felt his fingers pass your contact one too many times

azuma could barely remember the client’s name, even as he entered their apartment and laid in bed with them. the moonlight seemed to spotlight his phone on the nightstand beside him as he stared at the ceiling. the shadows outside crept into the room, reminding him how much time had passed

when azuma had slipped out of the room much earlier than he had anticipated, it didn’t take long for him to start heading towards your apartment not too far from where he was, in the midst of putting his blazer back on as he held his phone to his ear

your phone rang but you didn’t pick up

by the time he was at your door, he was about to knock before he hesitated. azuma rested his forehead against the surface as he closed his eyes. the light in the corridor flickered

was he about to do this? to go against everything he’s ever established for himself? but, how many nights had he spent with you? he stayed for breakfast and kept coming back for more, he even helped you make it and clean up because he wanted more time with you. he let you cling onto him in the mornings and encouraged you to do so. azuma met with you during the daytime because he loved the way the light made you seem ethereal

the line between romance and professionalism was long gone between you two, and he wanted it that way

he let you fall in love with him because he wanted it, too

before azuma could knock, you called him. his ringtone echoed in the hallway. a rustle and suddenly you opened the door, your phone screen illuminating the dark apartment

azumxa answered anyways, bringing the phone to his ear as he smiled at you

“can i sleep in your bed tonight?”

#yukishiro azuma #azuma yukishiro #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #azuma x reader #a3! azuma #a3 azuma

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aspiratixxn · 4 years

Text

Ink spills on your skin (1/?)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None at the moment

Summary:

If the perfect blank canvas walked in, wouldn’t you want to paint it too? Or in which one Wei Wuxian colors the entire world of one Lan Wangji.

Inspired beautifully by @eledsart‘s Tattoo Artist WWX drawings!

[Link to AO3]

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Wen Qing is going to kill him.

Look, when you’re friends with Wei Wuxian this long you learn all his quirks and habits, including the one where he gets up barely five minutes before opening and comes barreling around corners like a bull in Spain. She’s seen him skid right into walls with how fast he’s going, tumbling over himself and popping right back up with that megawatt smile still pasted on his face. But sometimes, especially when it’s this important, you’d think he wouldn’t be late.

She’s carrying A-Yuan in her arms, bouncing him up and down as he dozes off. Wei Wuxian is lucky that she adores A-Yuan’s little toddler face but mark her words, Wei Wuxian is going to pay for making her wait. She’s waiting in front of the shop, not open yet. It never opens before noon, since the gods themselves would not be able to drag Wei Wuxian out of bed.

Last night, he had requested (begged) with his big puppy eyes for Wen Qing to take A-Yuan, just for the night because he was going to be up working and he didn’t want A-yuan to be kept awake by his paper shuffling or his bone popping. Bones don’t pop, she said, but agreed anyways. Besides, Wen Ning was begging too with his own big puppy eyes behind Wei Wuxian and she wasn’t so cruel as to say no.

But now it’s time for her to get to her own work and she taps her foot, rolling her eyes when she finally spots him sprinting down the street like he’s going for the olympic gold. Another thing she’s learned about Wei Wuxian is that he’s really good at dodging obstacles, weaving over, under and around people and their items. Someone shouts as he barely misses them. Wen Qing is starting to think maybe she can get to her appointment with her professor on time when she watches him crash straight into someone else, sending a whole flurry of papers out of their arms and into the air.

She sighs, pulls out her phone and emails her professor.

Wei Wuxian has the worst luck. He’s always managed to get into trouble, whether he was looking for it or not. He always liked to say that trouble was looking for him and Wen Qing would smack him over the head with her notebook. But man, this is probably the worst since he can see Wen Qing in her knee-length red cardigan, impatiently bouncing his ward on her hip. He knows she’s got an appointment and he’s going to be really sorry about this later. Should’ve been more careful, he thinks as papers flutter and the person he bowled over sits up. “Sorry! So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going! Well I was but then again I was going like seventy three miles an hour and I didn’t mean to bump into you I’m so sorry again,” he’s babbling a little but he can see the exasperation in Wen Qing’s face as she pulls out her phone and he’s scrambling to pick up sheets of paper, collecting them in a haphazard pile in his arms with corners sticking in every direction. Most of the sheets aren’t even facing up probably but he’s really got to go. Once he’s acquired most of them on the ground near him and has done a quick sweep around to make sure he hasn’t missed any, he holds them out and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry again, I didn’t mea-”

So here’s the thing about Wei Wuxian. He is many things. Troublemaker, chaos creator, absolute fucking moron. Brilliant designer, inventor and artist. He is also, now, in love.

His jaw drops as does the volume of his voice, an awed whisper. “Holy shit you’re so fucking cute.” And it’s true, an angel in all their radiance has descended and blessed Wei Wuxian with an adorable fucking person.

Said person looks like they’ve swallowed a lemon with their sharp eyes and pursed lips and yet still, he is captured by the hazel gold that gleams in the sun. He could sit for hours and count the flecks in their eyes that dance as they shift to collect more papers with their long fingered hands, elegant in a way that Wei Wuxian could never be. The slope of his broad shoulders held high, the thickness of his thighs that were pressed against the formal black of his slacks. And his hair, a bit fluffy. Wei Wuxian wonders if he could run his hands through it, it looks so soft.

“Shameless.” He’s broken out of his dream by a tight voice as the person finishes collecting their papers and stands, compelling him to stand as well, still holding a pile of papers. Mouth slightly agape in how beautiful that one word sounded. Head filled with thoughts about how his name might sound, formed by those lips. The man takes the stack of papers with a small huff, glaring once more at Wei Wuxian and then he strides past. He smells like sandalwood and bergamot.

Wei Wuxian is many things and as of this moment forth, he is also a lovestruck idiot.

“Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing’s irritable voice breaks him out of his daze and his face falls. Aw, shit . A-Yuan’s big eyes brighten and he reaches his little toddler hands out, wanting his Xian-gege to pick him up even as Wen Qing bounces him. She, on the other hand, does not look as cute with a glowering frown that makes Wei Wuxian’s entire soul shrivel up a little. If looks could kill.

He sprints the last distance, apologies pouring from his mouth again. He’s said sorry seventy three times today and it hasn’t even been an hour since he woke up. That’s got to be a new record. “Wen Qing, you, light of my life, are the only thing that keeps me grounded in this world so cruel.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m so fuc- uh, so sorry I’m late! I missed my bus and then it would’ve taken forever to arrive again so I kind of sprinted across like seven blocks? And then I ran into this absolute cutie-”

“I’m aware. I saw you.” He shuts his mouth with a blush that could reach the high heavens. “Now stop being a moron and take A-Yuan or my professor really will have my head.” She holds out her arms and A-Yuan already has his arms outstretched, making little grabby hands. Wei Wuxian takes the precious gift gratefully, shifting to perch A-Yuan on his own hip. He bows to her, another quiet apology as A-Yuan starts babbling off everything they did last night, from dinner to a movie to board games and coloring and magic tricks with Wen Ning. “I’ll be late tonight, Wen Ning will bring you guys dinner later today. And do not forget that you need to get milk from the store. A-Yuan was very upset we didn’t have any this morning.”

Wei Wuxian at least has the sense to look slightly ashamed of himself but he pops up just as quick with a salute. “Yes ma’am!” A-Yuan mimics him before dissolving into giggles, pulling on Wei Wuxian’s sleeves. “Do you want anything? Maybe some tiramisu? I can also make my classic double chocolate chip cookies!” A-Yuan lights up and though Wen Qing still has a sour look on her face, she nods. Her phone buzzes and she sighs, reaching up to pat A-Yuan’s head before bustling off and vanishing in the crowd.

“Xian-gege, Xian-gege! I want to play! Can I color on you again?” Wei Wuxian chuckles as he starts to shuffle around for his keys. “Ning-gege says he made lots of these!” He has to resist a shudder when A-Yuan’s slightly clammy hands start poking around his neck where wreaths of flowers and other tattoos crawl up. “And he said that jiejie made them too! Can they make some for me?” Fishing out his keyring, Wei Wuxian just laughs again.

“Maybe when you’re a little bigger A-Yuan.” That earns him a pout but soon enough it morphs into a look of wonder as Wei Wuxian unlocks the door and opens up his store. Yiling Tattoo was well known in the area for its incredible artists who were always fair with their price. Wei Wuxian was the only one who was there all the time (as the owner) but people whispered far and wide about the delicate lines Nie Huaisang painted or the more bold and contrasted work that Jiang Cheng marked. Jiang Yanli was also a commonplace sight though she had apparently retired since her marriage to THE Jin Zixuan, multimillionaire and heir to the Jin luxury goods empire. There was also the recently hired Xiao Xingchen, who had made a name for himself using intricate dot work and wandering the globe with his tools.

Setting A-Yuan down, Wei Wuxian gets to work flicking on all the lights and starting up the thermostat. He takes all the tools and sticks them into the autoclave. They’ll be ready when the shop opens, probably. Just in case, Wei Wuxian has always kept an up-to-date stash of disposable, sterile tools tucked away in the supply room. He puts A-Yuan up on the counter of the front desk (where Mianmian works) and pecks his cheek, sending the child into peals of laughter. “Be good while I clean okay?” A-Yuan nods but as Wei Wuxian turns to get the cleaning supplies, he’s stopped by a rather firm grip on his sleeves. “Mm? What’s up bud?”

“Wanna help gege.” Wei Wuxian might keel over and die right now with how adorable A-Yuan looks, cheeks puffed out and determined eyes. “Can I? Please?” Wei Wuxian wonders how in the world he ever got this precious little bundle of joy in his life.

“Mm, are you suuuuure? It’s hard woooooork.” Even sitting on the counter, A-Yuan doesn’t quite reach eye level so he has to crouch as he speaks, pinching A-Yuan’s cheek. “You don’t want to play a little?” But even so, A-Yuan isn’t deterred and shakes his head vigorously.

“Nu-uh! Wanna help Xian-gege! Pleeeeeease?” And who’s Wei Wuxian to turn down such an honest request.So he picks out the disinfectant and the mop and all the other cleaning supplies he needs to make this place as germ free as possible. He sets A-Yuan on the floor and crouches, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, “Okay, here’s the plan…”

It takes longer than usual to finish cleaning up but they finish before the store opens. Mianmian is the first to arrive, laughing as she watched A-Yuan delicately place the design images around the walls in the waiting area. She knows the drill, already prepared with so many activities for him. Today’s activity seems to be some sort of lanyard weaving or something, if Wei Wuxian’s eyes don’t betray him when he sees the spools poking out from her “A-Yuan bag”.

Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are right on her heels, arriving only a few minutes later. Nie Huaisang has a smirk on his face as he pulls out a coffee from behind his back. Caramel macchiato just like Wei Wuxian likes. He stows the cleaning supplies away first before taking the cup with a moan. “Nie Huaisang, love of my life!” Jiang Cheng snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Put a hand on him and you’ll lose it.” Wei Wuxian quickly jerks his hands back, feigning offense. Jiang Cheng should have a PhD in eye rolling, right up there with Wen Qing. He stalks off to go enjoy the coffee in the backroom they reserve for more private tattoos and piercings. Sighing, he sits and glances over the schedule of appointments on his phone. They have about half an hour before opening so he takes his sweet time sipping.

It’s a busy day as always. Jiang Cheng is working on a large piece that stretches across the whole back. Huaisang is doing mostly touch ups and walk-ins. And Wei Wuxian, well, he’s only got one appointment in the evening so he resolves to spend time designing and drawing up front with Mianmian and A-Yuan. She handles most of the admin work so he can sit back with his thick black notebook, bursting with all kinds of drawings. Mostly stylized though he does have a few that are more realistic.

The bell chimes and he looks up, expecting a customer or perhaps his shijie with a bowl of steaming lotus root and rib soup. Instead, his book flies out of his hand and slams into the counter and he pushes his chair back to stand and look at the face of the very angel who he had crashed into in the morning.

Accompanied by another man with similar features and a much kinder smile. Accompanied by Nie Mingjue. (“Ah, da-ge!”) Accompanied by Jin Guangyao (probably, Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember the Jins very well despite being family).

Wei Wuxian has a knack for names and faces but he swears up and down he would’ve remembered seeing these two brothers (?) before if they were friends with Nie Mingjue. He swallows, leaning so far forward over the counter that he’s inches from the tipping point. “So,” he smirks, eyes lidded, “what’s a beauty like you doing here?”

Behind him, Mianmian covers A-Yuan’s ears and snickers. Wei Wuxian is far too into his head to care though there’s no doubt that she’s going to rib him into the ether later. For his credit though, the angel just levels a cool stare and Wei Wuxian finds that he really doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when he notes that his ears are turning a gentle shade of pink.

The other handsome stranger sweeps in, saving his brother (?) the trouble of finding a real reply. His lips crest in a smile but his eyes dance with a mild threat and Wei Wuxian backs off, knowing there’s trouble to be had and for once not wanting to get into it. “We have an appointment. With Wei Wuxian.” One glance at Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao shows exactly how smitten they are with this pretty, pretty voice that floats melodically in a shop full of buzzing needles.

“Uh, that’d be me! You’re…” He glances down at the open appointment list on Mianmian’s computer. “Lan Xichen?” He receives a nod. Returning with a nod of his own, he quickly pulls up the appointment details. As a matter of fact, it’s not just Lan Xichen but apparently also Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao. They’re getting matching tattoos? Wei Wuxian had never pegged Nie Mingjue as the type but there’s a first for everything he supposes as he prints the details out and sticks the paper into his notebook. “Well, follow me I guess.” He hopes the angel follows too as he takes them to the consultation room in the back.

Wei Wuxian has a process when it comes to his art. First, accept no walk-in that isn’t well thought out. Second, never ink on the first meeting without thorough discussion of every detail, including a sketch if it’s a simple design. Third, he will not touch other people’s work just like he would hope no one touches his own. Finally, the tattoo must be completed with a customer satisfied before he lets it go. Granted, this has caused some problems in the past with people who would stumble in drunk and demand something in his style without any care or consideration. And with a few disgruntled customers who thought they were getting one thing even when he went through the whole process with them from start to finish. It was always weird when someone was upset with their finished product when they had been the ones to okay every detail (with forms!) every step of the way.

The angel does follow though a bit slower. Gold eyes seem to flick every which way, taking in the organized mess that is the Yiling tattoo parlor. With Jiang Cheng’s grimace as he intensely shades and Nie Huaisang’s tongue poking out as he finishes the last delicate line on a camellia, it’s no wonder. Still, Wei Wuxian kind of wished those eyes would be watching him. Maybe they would be when he was working later.

The backroom is much quieter, with padding in the walls to block noise going in and out. He gestures at the chairs across the table and the four of them take a seat, the angel sitting a bit further in the back. Wei Wuxian takes his own seat and sets his book on the table, flipping open to a fresh page and popping the cap off his pen to take notes. “Alright, what’re we in for today?”

There’s a moment when the three exchange looks and Wei Wuxian feels like they’re arguing about who should speak. In the end it’s Lan Xichen who does it, though he seems a bit annoyed if the slight tightness in his voice is any indicator. “We were looking for something that could connect across motifs of nature.” Okay, kinda broad. Thankfully it looks like they’ve put thought into this as each of them pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s funny to see them side by side. Lan Xichen’s is folded so neatly it doesn’t seem human. Nie Mingjue’s is kind of crumpled, like he shoved it into his pocket without thinking. And Jin Guangyao’s is neat and messy at the same time, the corners and edges having taken a beating.

Wei Wuxian collects them and scans them with bursting concentration, taking his pen and marking up the pages without restraint. He can see Nie Mingjue twitch a little out of the corner of his eye but well, what’s paper for if not for ink? It seems like their motifs are centered around osmanthus or plum blossom flowers, colorful flames, and the moon hidden behind clouds. Okay, well, nothing too unusual. But this is going to be a pretty big project and Wei Wuxian chews on his lip as he compiles a list of things to consider and ask.

Thankfully (again), it seems like they already have a basic shape idea in mind as well as style, size and coloring. Wei Wuxian is so goddamn thankful that they really did think this through. It makes his life so much easier and within the hour, he’s already got a rough sketch which he shows off with pride.

It’s a circle of flames intertwined with osmanthus and plum blossom both, circling around the hidden full moon. He’s scribbled some rough details around the edge, indicating size and colorings. This piece isn’t his usual kind (it’s more up Nie Huaisang’s alley actually) but as they pore over the drawing, he finds himself getting more and more invested. There are small tweaks and details but it seems like overall they’re satisfied with the design. Jin Guangyao requests that the flames be a little more explosive and Nie Mingjue seems entirely caught up on the positioning of the flowers. Xichen focuses specifically on the moon but by the end of a long session, they’ve settled on a final design which Wei Wuxian will draw up later and send to them in its final form, without all the scribbles in the margins.

He pulls up a few forms and has them fill out basic information as well as consenting to the tattoo design and process. They will be charged at least partially upfront due to the size and complexity of the piece. Finally, they fill out details about where they want the tattoos and any final notes they want to be taken into consideration.

All this while, the angel has sat ramrod straight, watching with a level of curiosity that doesn’t show anywhere but in the gleam of his eyes. Wei Wuxian wonders what it might take for him to stop looking like a complete sourpuss. With the forms signed and returned to him, he collects them with the three papers they brought and puts them all collectively into his notebook. He stretches and stands, letting out a sigh. “That’ll be all for today. I’ll send over the final design within the next few days. Please feel free to make any changes but do be reasonable about them. We’ll set up another appointment with Mianmian and we can start inking when everything’s in order. Sound good?”

He’s met with three identical nods. Lan Xichen’s smile is brighter than the sun. Jin Guangyao is more reserved but his lips curl and he has that happy bounce in his step. Nie Mingjue even cracks a grin and ruffles Wei Wuxian’s hair on the way out. As he takes them back out to the front, Wei Wuxian notices that the angel hasn’t spoken once, nor does he seem to intend to. He’s ringing them up for the consultation fee and maybe his staring wasn’t quite as covert as he had hoped since Lan Xichen, when handing over his card to pay, also gestures to the silent beauty. “This is my brother, Lan Wangji. He’s here for… Emotional support.” That gets a snort out of Wei Wuxian that breaks out into full laughter as Wangji looks like a strangled cat. Lan Wangji, a name pretty enough to match. How would it taste in his mouth?

“Well!” He slides the receipt across for a signature, never breaking eye contact with Lan Wangji. “It was nice to meet you both, I look forward to your future patronage and then some.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Lan Wangji’s ears flare red that seem to crawl to his cheeks. Again, he speaks just one word in that perfect, beautiful voice of his.

“Shameless.”

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