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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month

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dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/140496796

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You were bound to break a term of the deal eventually, right?

we've hit chapter 3! I got a huge influx of people interested and loving this story and I finally got the inspiration and drive to bang the next chapter out for everyone 🤭 there's going to be more coming, I do as the brain commands lol

A big shoutout to @fraugwinska for being like my number 1 hype person on this fic, you are a godsend 💕

And for those who asked to be tagged when the new chapter went up! @spottypug @dennsfz @bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff

Same tags as chapter 1/2 plus a couple new ones: Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rough Sex, Dreamwalking, blowjobs, 'punishment' wink wink, minor injuries, let me know if I missed anything lol

I love comments and feedback, I would love to know what you think ❤️ enjoy!

The shock on Husk’s face at seeing you inside Alastor’s room when the door flies open a few days after the camping trip is matched only by yours- the horror you’re sure is written in your expression at the pool of blood accumulating under Alastor’s body where Angel Dust is supporting him with an arm around his waist, a smoking gash across his middle.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

“What the fuck happened?”

You speak at the same time, voices overlapping as Husk shoves the door to the room further open to make room for Angel to drag Alastor inside. He’s also coated in blood down one side, likely having been supporting Alastor’s weight from the other side to drag him up the stairs.

Alastor’s eyes are clenched shut, smile more like a grimace as he snarls at Angel Dust trying to get his feet underneath himself. “I do not need any assistance, spider, release me-”

“Sure, Smiles, tell me all about it. Ya can’t even fuckin’ stand up without ya gangly ass legs collapsin’, how else were we supposed to get ya here?” Angel has also just noticed your presence in the room as you rush over, pleased smirk taking over his features. “I fuckin’ told you there was somethin’ goin’ on with them, Husk!”

“Shut the hell up, Angel,” Husk mutters, grabbing Alastor by the ankles and helping the other demon get him to the bed, despite Alastor fighting like a wild cat the whole time. You follow closely, hovering anxiously next to the mattress. They drop him unceremoniously, causing him to hiss in pain before the wound starts gushing again. “You,” Husk says, fluffy finger pointed in your face. “You stay here with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuckin’ bleed out or anything. Angel, you go tell Charlie and Vaggie what happened. I’ll get the med kit.”

“Wait, Husk” you say as he and Angel both step away, and there’s a hard grip on your wrist from Alastor when you start to follow them. “Just one sec,” you tell the demon- a great idea, with how known he was for his patience and understanding- and pull out of his grasp, hurrying after the other two. You catch Husk at the door, Angel taking off to find Charlie. “What happened to him?”

“Got into it with Vox, what else? Those fuckin’ overlord meetings are just trouble waitin’ to happen if you ask me, never would’ve caught my ass at one of them.” He runs a frustrated hand down his face. “We couldn’t get much out of his besides that, figured it would be best to get him to his room before anyone else saw him stumblin’ around the lobby.”

“Fuck.” You glance over at him, splayed across the mattress, an arm over his eyes. “Can’t he heal on his own? I thought regeneration was all the rage down here.”

“He’s been fucked since that battle with Adam- angelic steel right to the chest, did something to his body and he doesn’t heal as quick anymore. Some stitches should get him right for at least a little while.” A dark eye watches you from Husk’s peripheral. “I don’t know what you’re doing gettin’ all buddy-buddy with him but you watch yourself. We’re not all fuckin’ stupid- somethin’s up, we saw the goddamn vampire bite on your neck after camping-”

“Are there vampires in Hell?”

“Not the goddamn point. The point is be careful and don’t fuck anyone else over in the process of whatever the hell you two’re doing.” He points back into the bedroom. “Now go stand guard or whatever you do until I can stitch him up.” Husk is off then, jogging in the opposite direction that Angel had gone. You leave the door unlocked and cracked so he can get back in when he returns and go back to Alastor’s side in the bed.

His face is sweaty, eyes still clenched shut in pain, but one of his ears perks back up when he hears you come closer. “Pay no mind to those idiots,” he mutters. “I will be perfectly fine in a matter of hours. Do not let them back in.” He waves a hand lazily, the door slamming shut with a bang.

“Yeah the smoking hole in your chest gives me a lot of confidence to that. I’m not going to stop them from helping you.” You hesitate only a second before reaching out to his shirt buttons. “Let me- you’ll need this off for Husk to stitch you up.” He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you undo the buttons and slide the shirt sideways as carefully as possible to clear some space for the cat to work. You brush against his ribs and there’s a sharp inhale, Alastor’s nostrils flaring and claws digging into the sheets.

There’s a knock at the door and when you move to go open it there’s again a hand wrapped around your wrist. “Stay,” Alastor says, looking like it pains him to say it. A strip of shadow darts across the room to open the door in your stead, Husk coming back through the frame and raising an eyebrow at the sight of you still seated beside the demon.

“Charlie and Vaggie know what happened and will check on you tomorrow. Angel went to shower. Let’s get this fuckin’ over with.” He settles on the other side of you, and Alastor releases his grip on your hand to clench them into the bedsheets as Husk starts to drag the needle through his skin.

A good bit of swear words and a loosely wrapped bandage later, Alastor is patched up and passed out on his mattress. “Where did you learn to do stitches?”

“I don’t know, not really. Winged it. Just knew he wouldn’ want anyone else to see him like he is now. Vulnerable; weak. Benefit to him to have me under his thumb, I can’t run my fuckin’ mouth or use it against him.” He eyes you. “I assume you have no problem stayin’ to monitor him? With the stitches he should be good to go by mornin’ but you’ll want to watch him through the night.”

You could revive your old sleep habits and keep awake through one evening. “Yeah, I can stay. And Husk, it’s really not what you’re thinking-”

“Don’t care. Not my business. Make sure he doesn’t die- who fuckin’ knows what happens to my soul if that happens.” Husk gathers his materials and leaves the room, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

You wander the room for a while trying to find a way to entertain yourself. He only has a couple books in the room- ones you’ve already read before- and despite your interest in the bayou dimension you don’t want to wander too far away from him. Eventually you pick a book and drag the armchair over to the bed, settling in and keeping an eye on the movements of his chest. He seems to be doing well, despite being weak and injured, no blood yet seeping through the bandages on his chest.

You do so well for a while without getting tired before the siren song of sleep starts to pull at your eyelids. You combat it as best you can- you pace the room, do push ups and jumping jacks, try counting backwards from one thousand. It doesn’t help, and you find yourself curled up in the armchair next to the bed, eyes drifting shut and not opening again.

When the world of Alastor’s dreams comes to fruition, you’re once again just in his bedroom, the only difference being a slightly darker tone to the light. His eyebrows raise when he sees you. “Well! Fancy meeting you here, darling.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to stay awake out there to keep an eye on you-”

He waves you down. “No worries, dear. I told you before the stitches that I would be fine, that remains true. I cannot fault you for falling asleep on duty when you’ve not been accustomed to staying awake during the evenings any longer.”

A sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was-”

“Ah ah ah,” he interrupts, and with a shifting shadow he stands before you, trailing a finger down your throat. “That is not to say that I’m not upset with you for something else.” He circles you, eyes lidded and smile teasing. “Need I remind you again of the terms of our deal?”

“What?” Something slips around your wrist, almost like the feeling of Alastor’s fingers but softer, and you glance down to see one of his shadows. His meaning dawns on you. “Wait, Alastor, I didn’t- I’m not here on purpose, I-”

“Ahhh but that wasn’t a condition, was it? It is only allowed with my permission , dear, and I must say I can’t recall giving that to you!” Another shadow wraps itself around your thighs, buckling your legs and bringing you to your knees; he runs a hand gently along the top of your head, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid discipline is in order.” With a wave of his finger Alastor’s armchair is behind him, settling into it as his tentacles make themselves at home across your body, holding you in place where you now sit on your knees, Alastor’s hand still cupped under your chin. “I think a spanking will do.”

Your body jerks where you’re held. “I’m not a child.”

“This may seem a bit tame,” he admits, expression pensive, “but sometimes the classics can be rather effective! Here’s the plan-” The tentacles shift, bending you at the waist so your chin rests nearly on Alastor’s knee. “You’ve done rather well so far so I won’t be cruel . I think ten strikes should be sufficient. You’ll count them aloud, and should you miss one we will start over. How does that sound fair?”

“Alastor-”

The first strike is over your clothing, Alastor cocking his head when you try to move away from the faint sting of it. “Surely you know how to count, dearest.” Your clothes seem to melt off your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill in the air. When you don’t respond he sighs, his smile almost condescending. “Oh well; I suppose it can’t be helped. We begin again.”

The tentacle strikes again, a sharp snap that has you hissing through your teeth. Not knowing what else you can do, you decide to just submit- how bad can ten simple swats with a tentacle really hurt? “One,” you mutter, and Alastor’s eyes light up now that you’re willing to play his game.

He cups his hand around the back of your head, and you tilt into his palm. “Perfect. Good girl. Go ahead.”

A gentle whoosh through the air, and another blow to the soft skin of your ass. “T- two,” you say, gritting your teeth against the vague ache. It’s not terribly painful; it’s more the humiliation of it than anything else, but not being able to see it coming contributes to the sting. “Fuck!” Another that you didn’t anticipate. “Three.”

Alastor uses the light pressure of his hand to tilt your head to meet his eyes. “Perhaps I’m just old fashioned,” he says softly, “but I don’t believe ‘fuck’ is a number. Start again.”

You feel the sting of frustrated tears. “Alastor, please.”

He brushes them away with a claw. “Come now, darling, no need for that. You can count to ten, can’t you? Why, it’s easy as can be and then we can be done with this business.”

So he makes you start again- and now for a third time when you can’t stop the whine in your throat from distorting the ‘eight’ into a broken groan. The spanks hadn’t been really painful before but as the punishment continued and the same spots were struck over and over you had become sore, and every new blow stung and ached like nothing else.

And yet- maybe its the position, or the utter helplessness of what’s happening with Alastor in control but there’s that familiar burn in your core, slick arousal from your cunt slipping down your thighs and out of sight of the demon before you.

Your eyes had drifted closed at some point, neck eventually losing the strength to hold itself up and pressing into the fabric of Alastor’s trousers. When he makes a curious humming noise you let your lashes flutter back open. His eyes are dark, pupils blown and his smile dangerous as he looks down at you with lidded eyes. “You know, if you’re having such trouble counting I may have a better use for that lovely mouth of yours, darling.” A brief respite from the tentacles, at least, as he repositions you with his hands to bring your face to the erection that’s grown in his lap. “This isn’t my punishment, after all; I don’t see why I should have to suffer now. How’s this- I’ll count for you, and you keep your mouth otherwise occupied, hm?”

You don’t bother trying to speak, instead just nodding in his gentle hold. He smiles, a little softer then, another quietly uttered “good girl” before he’s undoing his pants and pulling his cock out, presenting it to you and slowly guiding it into your waiting mouth.

He’s not demanding about it, lets you take your time in getting your lips wrapped around the head, fingers brushing delicately through your hair. The position isn’t perfect, and not having use of your hands is a bit of a nuisance but you can move your head enough to take some of his length into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You swipe your tongue along what you can reach of the underside of him and he hisses above you, pulling you back with a soft fisting of your hair until you can only reach the tip.

“We’ll continue now, my dear. Be mindful of your teeth, please.” And he slides back in with a simultaneous strike of one of the tentacles. “One.”

Somehow the childish punishment is easier to take with Alastor’s cock in your mouth. You still jerk in the hold of the tentacles when you’re hit, but your whimpers and cries of pain are muffled, the vibrations of it serving a greater purpose now in bringing Alastor pleasure. You make it to seven before a particular hard spank jolts you forward, prick shoving harder into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. The constriction that happens when you inadvertently gag a bit makes a harsh moan tumble out of Alastor’s mouth, his fingers tightening their grip in your hair. “Fuck-”

You pull off enough to speak, lips brushing the tip as you do. “Thought ‘fuck’ wasn’t a number.”

“Wretched, delightful thing,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “You raise a valid point, but I think we’ve drawn this out long enough- you’ve learned your lesson?” A nod from you, lips once again covering him and tongue swirling around the head. “Lovely,” he sighs. “Then we’ll make this last bit quick.”

He shifts forward in the armchair, enough that he’s now fully inside of your mouth and each lazy thrust of his hips bumps the back of your throat. He gives himself time to savor the feeling of you sucking and licking at him, throat constricting each time he bottoms out, in between swats from the tentacles. “Eight. Nine. Ten.” Your hands are released from their restraints, and rather than bringing them to your throbbing clit like you desperately want to, cunt drenched and ready for something more, you instead bring them to Alastor’s lap, repositioning yourself to better choke on his length. You let your teary eyes drift up to his face, his eyes lidded where he stares down at you, smile tight and tense. “Wonderfully done, sweetheart. I need only a moment more- may I?” He fists his hands in your hair on either side of your head and you let your mouth go slack, allowing him to thrust in and back out at his own leisure.

You can feel under your hands the flexing of the muscles in his forearm and wish that he would take off his goddamn shirt- get undressed in one of these dreams, just something so you weren’t the only one exposed and vulnerable.

“Magic in dreams doesn’t count, I rather think; it seems that you can do it as well.”

You think about what Alastor had said while camping- how your pants had simply vanished with a thought, the mere desire. You’d never really tried much with your dream powers. You just showed up and tried not to be spotted whenever you were in one, or got the information you were looking for and left. It hadn’t occurred to you until Alastor had said something that you might be able to do more , to use the power for something else.

So while Alastor grows more desperate in his race to completion, fucking your mouth with renewed fervor, you concentrate on the buttons of his shirt. You don’t want to alert him to what you’re trying to do- he’d probably take offense to the fact that you aren’t as wholly engrossed in letting him use your mouth as he likes, might even start the whole punishment over again after he came. So you let your vocal chords do as they please while he ruts into the hole you’ve provided for him, soft moans and whimpers to distract him a bit.

The top button twists, and slowly, silently, pulls itself from the hole it was fastened into. A slight shift of your eyes and the second one follows.

The mere possibilities of what you could do with this information makes you moan, long and low and vibrating hard around Alastor’s cock. Already close, the sensation makes him buck his hips hard, spewing curses as he spends himself in the warm and wet heat of your mouth. You’ve hardly had a chance to swallow- the taste and feeling not awful but just a little strange- before he’s yanking you up from the floor, pulling you into his lap and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come to rest on your thighs, traveling slowly upwards until he meets the welts that his tentacles have left on your skin. You hiss into his mouth at the sting of it, and he kisses you gently while massaging the sensitive skin. You distract yourself with popping another button on his shirt, a motion that goes unnoticed by Alastor in favor of switching between kissing you and watching your face while he touches you.

The rush of it eventually slows and stops, content to just sit there together for a bit with him unaware of the 6 buttons you had managed to get undone. Unlike the other times you’ve met in his dreams you aren’t simply shoved out this time- Alastor wakes up slowly and groggily, like anyone else would, and you open your eyes at the same time. He spots you in the armchair and moves to the side, clearing up a space beside him. “Come over here, dear,” he says, and you’re helpless to disobey.

Sitting up in the armchair you become aware of two things- that the welts and likely bruises from the tentacles had carried over into real life, as did the slick arousal and throbbing need in your cunt, suddenly desperate to be filled with Alastor- not just in a dream but here, now.

You stand from the chair and to the demon’s surprise, slip your bottoms and panties off before climbing into the bed and settling yourself against his side. He turns to face you, face twisting in slight pain when the wound on his chest shifts, but he trails his fingers down the slope of your neck, over the curve of your hip, finally dipping between your legs and feeling how wet you’ve become from allowing him to be in control of you. “We may have to find a new punishment for you, dearest, if this is how you react to this method.”

“Please, Alastor,” you say, reaching a hand down to his lap and pleased to find that while he’s been spent in the dream, his erection here in the real world is eager to go again. You slip your fingers under the band of his trousers, circle them around his cock with a light squeeze. “Please, I need it- not in the dream but here, real . Please?”

His breath catches in his throat, hot exhale against your face. “I- I am injured, darling, I cannot perform as I do in my mind-”

“You don’t have to.” You’re already shifting, getting up on your knees and settling over his lap, slotting his hard, hot length against your dripping folds. “I’ll do it- you don’t have to do anything. I- I just need to cum, please?”

He cups your face in his hand like he had in the dream. “How could I possibly deny you anything?” He assists you in positioning yourself on his cock, a soft “careful, dear” as you start to sink down.

Jesus fuck. The dreams had done nothing to prepare you for the feeling in real life as you’re speared on his cock, your body making room for him with the delicious slide down until you’re seated in his lap completely. You’re full of him in every sense; your cunt stuffed, mind racing with thoughts of Alastor, vision blocked by anything but the sight of his eyes wide as he watches you take him in, his claws digging into the skin of your hips. It’s so, so much better than it is in the dreams- it’s tangible , a real memory that you can hold onto from your mind, not remnants of something in Alastor’s head. This was yours. Something he’s giving you because you asked for it, begged him for it and he obliged.

You raise up on your knees, already shaky from the slow descent, and make it halfway before Alastor shifts his hips and hits the bundle of nerves inside you. You bite back the moan that wants to escape, glaring at him halfheartedly. “I said I would do it.”

“You’re certainly taking your time, darling. Just thought I could offer some assistance.” He gives you a positively lecherous smile. “I suppose if you won’t allow me to move this should suffice.” He lets one hand slide off your hip to rub at your clit with his thumb, the other tightening its grip on you.

“I’ll- I’ll allow it,” you choke out, a little miffed that the subtle shift of his hips was enough to get him right where you needed him. You ride him gently, mindful of his injury, and the pleasure crests, so close to breaking you that your legs are cramping. “God, Alastor, please-”

“What do you need, beautiful?” You have only a moment to process the word before he’s moving, an arm wrapping around your middle and turning the pair of you over, rutting his cock into you with a speed and pressure that makes you dizzy. His smile is dazed looking down at you, watching your cunt swallow him and reveling in the wet noises that emerge from where you’re joined. “You’re so close, darling, I can feel it- your pleasure is mine. Every time you reach that peak, when you cum on my cock, it will only ever be me. ”

He shifts again, brings his knees up closer to get deeper inside of you. “Fuck, Alastor, my god-”

“I like the sound of that,” he purrs, bending down to trail his tongue up your throat. “I want to be everything to you. Would you allow me that privilege? To claim you, to own you in every way that you’d let me, in any dimension.”

Your head whips back and forth on the pillow, the edge so close your vision is dark. “Please, please, please,” you’re mumbling, “Alastor please, I’m gonna-”

The tension snaps before you can finish your sentence, a wailing cry falling from your lips as you clench and shake and cum under him, around him. It’s so different from when it happens in Alastor’s dreams- it echoes in every part of your body, your head spinning and fingers tightening in his shirt so hard that you fear you’ll rip the fabric. His name spills from you in waves with your release, and his eyes are dark as his thrusts intensify, chasing his orgasm with the resolve of a man possessed.

“Yours, all yours,” you mumble against his lips when his face comes close enough to catch his mouth. “All of me.”

He snarls and his hips stutter, snapping hard against yours. “So much- so much better,” he gasps through the tightening of your pussy on his length. “So perfect- mine -” With a harsh growl he spends himself a second time for the night, into the wet silken grip of your body. He thrusts gently through the wave of it before he collapses in a heap against you, breathing heavily into your ear.

“You’re so- lovely,” he mumbles. “Giving, for a demon. One would think that you would simply take- I would, were it me with your powers. But you’re just…” He trails off, head against your shoulder and breath slow.

You bring a hand up to trail down his back. “I meant it,” you whisper, swallowing your nerves. “If you- if you would have me, I would be yours. For as long as you want. Forever.”

He remains silent.

Fuck. You hope you haven’t overstepped some boundary. “Alastor?” He doesn’t move, or show any indication that he’s heard you. “Hey, are you okay?” You push at his shoulder with no response, so you double down and push harder, tumbling him off of you.

“Mother fucker.” The bandages wrapped around his chest are stained with red, more than when you had begun- the demon had torn his stitches open when he flipped the pair of you around to take control back, after you specifically told him you would handle your orgasms yourself. “Idiot,” you hiss at his slacken face, but you still brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead before pulling your bottoms back on and rushing down the hall to find Husk, ignoring the sting of the welts on your rear the whole way.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #x reader #bark bark bark #my stuff <3 #hazbin hotel x reader

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hanrinz · 1 year

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COME BACK WE MISS YOU — wherein rin doesn't really like your cat at all, maybe..

+ rin itoshi x reader | fluffy short drabble | i just thought of this while eating, literally unrealistic writing here lmao. ooc but who cares. idk this was so rushed

rin doesn't think he minds when you're not around, it's not like he needs to spend all his time with you. but, what he really minds is when you haven't greeted him all day or seen your presence anywhere. and then he would see you in an alley on his way home, you're feeding a damn cat.

is this what's been taking all your time away from him all week? a stray cat? and you'll turn around from your crouch position and give him your radiant smile, ah there it is.

but that doesn't really change the fact he hasn't been able to have you all this time. and sure as hell that damn cat knows what it's doing, looking at him with smugness. he knows he didn't imagine it at all.

it was stupid, really. a cute fur stray against him a talented striker, and you chose that lukewarm animal.

and it's coming home with you? what? it's living in your house? hell. now he has to fight for his position? oh, he'll win this. he'll make your cute little cat know he doesn't back down from a challenge.

"rin, please stop giving death glares to our child,"

yeah, no. he tries to behave himself anyway. he only does it for you. if sees that cat laying on your lap he'll literally throw hands any minute.

you're pretty sure your boyfriend will love the cat you brought home and this is not what you expected from him. nevertheless, you're determined to make them get along with each other, note — more on your boyfriend's part.

and you just had the perfect idea.

fortunately, you had to leave for two days to visit your grandparents for the weekend. the perfect excuse to leave rin with your cat, and he can't refuse either. you had convinced reo and the other guys not to be free on those times, even telling them not to answer rin if he ever did. not that he'll do it, but it's better to be prepared.

and the day you'll be leaving has come, making a list for rin, the things he will be doing. he was listening intently, nodding and storing every bit of information in his brain.

"i'll be back on sunday evening, are you sure you'll be okay?" you asked, a little hesitant about this, but you really can't go back now.

"don't worry 'bout me, you should go now. don't make them wait for you too long."

"i'll call you!" you said as you kissed him goodbye boarding on the train to your hometown. your cat curling in his arms, purring like a farewell say on you, it had you smiling from how rin looks holding your cat.

"take care of our child!" you said a little too loud. you laughed, seeing rin's embarrassed face from your words and how some people have looked on your way.

god, why do you have to pertain to this little feline as your child. he's definitely gonna miss you.

on the way back to your apartment, he had stopped by the convenience store to buy cat food, browsing through the different kinds not really knowing which one you always buy. he had almost fish out his phone out his pocket to text you, but decided against it.

looking at your cat, lucky—yes, you named it lucky—he had contemplated as if the cat would talk and tell him which one it likes.

"the red one or the blue one?" he muttered to himself and it was stupid, but your cat grabbed the green one on the shelf giving him the answer he's been looking for. when did food get so expensive? he's ignoring the fact what just happened a minute ago.

paying for everything and heading back home, he did everything you had instructed him not a single left uncheck on your list, feeling a little proud of himself. taking a spot on your couch to read as he waits for your call.

your little cat climbing on his lap, turning as it lays down on him, leaning its head in his hands, urging him to pet it and he did. he thinks it was not so bad spending a whole weekend with your child in his hands.

"hey, did i wake you?" you asked from the other side of the call, trying to lower your voice as you see rin's messed up hair and your cat laying on his lap sound asleep, a book which seems to be haphazardly thrown on the side of the couch.

rin rubbed his eyes awake, looking through his screen as his lips quirk up a little. "are you coming home soon?" he muttered, his voice raspy.

you hum in response, as you secretly take a picture of him and lucky. a new addition to your gallery, smiling to your self.

"..we miss you,"

"we?" you laughed from this shocking revelation, well it looks like they got along pretty well.

"yeah," he confessed.

"i miss you too, rin," and you could only smile more.

i was hoping to post more this week, but i have something coming up this weekend so please take this small offering◝꒰ ´ ˘ '♡ ꒱

#roses ‘r rosie #i love cats i swear #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #bllk headcanons #rin itoshi #rin itoshi fluff

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papiliotao · 1 year

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THE PURRFECT DATE

ੈ✩‧₊˚ GN!Reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Characters: Heizou, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Synopsis: Your boyfriend takes you to a cat café!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Warnings: reader and Heizou have a tiny misunderstanding but it's overall very fluffy, a cat injures the reader in Xiao’s, Scaramouche

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Content: crack, fluff, modern!AU

Heizou

When your boyfriend told you that he was going to take you to a cat café, you weren't quite expecting this. You had anticipated a cute date with Heizou, sipping on sweet drinks and petting adorable felines. However, Heizou had decided to be act difficult instead.

"Oh! Look at this cat! It looks like you, don't you think?" Heizou pointed at an ginger cat. The cat was staring blankly at you with absolutely no thought in its eyes. Meeting gazes with the creature truly felt like staring into an endless abyss. Your jaw dropped, and you turned to stare at Heizou in shock. "Wow. Even your expressions match now."

"Stop," you begged him, feeling your face beginning to heat up. Your boyfriend seemed taken aback by your reaction. His eyebrows furrowed as his forehead scrunched up into a prominent frown. However, his expression quickly twisted into a small smirk.

"What's wrong, love?" your boyfriend snickered. You felt your face burn with the heat of a thousand suns. Shikanoin Heizou was impossible. It almost felt like he would never stop teasing you. You swore that even if the world was ending and the sky was falling, your partner would find some way to flirt with you or poke fun at you.

"Why exactly do you think I resemble that cat?" you inquired, snorting a little when you saw the feline attempting to groom itself. It ended up losing its balance and rolling over. Did your boyfriend seriously compare you to such an idiotic creature?

"Man alive. I thought you were smarter than this," Heizou said, shaking his head and feigning disappointment. "Fine, I guess I'll let you in on a little secret," he whispered, leaning closer to you to talk into your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against your skin flooded your senses with warmth. Yet it was a warmth that caused shivers to wrack your body. "You're cute." You felt an exhilarating touch of soft lips to your cheek after he said those words, causing your heart to race.

"So you don't think I'm stupid?" you asked your boyfriend.

"Stupid?" Heizou bursted out laughing. "Love, where did you get that impression from?" He glanced at the cat and then back at you. The cat was now running around, chasing a cat wand that one of the visitors was waving around. In its haste, the orange feline accidentally ended up running into a wall. You winced at the sight, but the furry creature was unphased. It simply stood up and continued to chase the toy.

"See what I mean?" you mumbled, a bit embarrassed that you had jumped to conclusions earlier. You looked down to obscure your flustered face from your boyfriend, but he tenderly placed his hands on your cheeks and forced you to look up at him.

"Adorable," Heizou remarked, "just like a cat."

Kazuha

Going to a cat café with Kazuha was a mistake.

It seemed like a good idea at first. Your boyfriend had always had a natural feline affinity, so you figured that it would end up just being another wholesome date. However, you did not quite anticipate the extreme reactions of the animals.

As soon as you and Kazuha walked through the front door of the mostly empty café, you found yourselves in a troubling predicament. Without warning, a mass of furry bodies scurried over to you and your boyfriend ⁠— well, mostly your boyfriend. An amalgamation of cats surrounded Kazuha, causing you to step aside to give the felines some space. They meowed at him, nuzzled against his legs, and purred in his presence.

A grin adorned Kazuha's face as he bent down to brush his fingers gently against the pelt of a cat that reminded you of a fluffy cloud on a summer day. He giggled lightly, causing butterflies to dance within the pit of your stomach. His laughter was music to your ears — a timeless melody that would never fail to bring a smile to your face. You shrieked internally when you saw how he handled the feline as if it were a fragile treasure — precious but prone to breaking if one was too rough.

Based on the way he interacted with the cats, even a stranger would have been able to tell that his touch was always soft and tender, and as his partner, you knew better than anyone that this was true. It showed in the way he would loosely grip your hand whenever the two of you took late night walks together. It showed in the way his fingers would ghost across your sun-kissed hair during waking hours. And it showed in the way he would press saccharine kisses against your lips with the utmost care ⁠— passionate, but not suffocating. It was clear that he prioritized your comfort above all at any given moment.

Despite knowing that Kazuha was generally a kind and affectionate person, you couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous of the cats. You felt ridiculous for harboring such feelings toward such clueless creatures. However, you couldn't really control how you felt. The green-eyed monster named envy whispered words of ridicule as you watched your boyfriend interact with the felines gathered at his feet.

Kazuha glanced in your direction and shot a smile at you. You pouted as he turned back to the cats. It seemed that he could feel you glaring at his back because your eyes met pools of crimson before you knew what was happening. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, and you felt the tension in your facial muscles alleviate. Although you were still miffed, the galaxies contained within your boyfriend's ruby eyes never failed to make your heart to flutter.

"My love," Kazuha spoke softly, gazing at you with an expression that spoke of adoration and adoration alone. "It appears that something is bothering you. I won't force you to tell me what the problem is, but I would truly appreciate it if you did. I hate seeing you upset." You sighed. Nothing slipped past your ever-perceptive boyfriend.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?" you asked Kazuha, noticing that all his attention was now on you. The cats around him remained close to him, but he was no longer focused on them. You were the only thing on his mind.

"I would never dream of it," he responded.

You took a deep breath before bluntly stating, "I feel a bit jealous." Although your statement was rather vague, you knew you didn't have to elaborate any further. Kazuha understood you like no one else. Your boyfriend's eyes widened in surprised before they crinkled with slight amusement. However, his features softened as he made eye contact with you.

"Love," Kazuha started, "come over here." He beckoned for you to close the distance between the two of you. You complied with his request. As you walked, the cats parted ways to let you through. It almost felt as though you were royalty of some sort.

Once you were directly in front of Kazuha, the boy took your hand in his. Sparks were flying as he slowly brought your knuckles up to his lips, relishing in the dreamlike moment. As his lips met the back of your hand, you felt his soft hair tickling your skin. Although it wasn't a kiss on the lips, it was no less magical. Your boyfriend always knew the best ways to capture your heart. You were slightly disappointed when Kazuha pulled away to speak, leaving nothing but a lingering warmth in his wake.

"This world contains a great many wonders, but no matter how many beautiful, remarkable, and captivating sights I come across in this lifetime, you will always be my favourite. I love you."

Scaramouche

Your boyfriend glared daggers at you as yet another cat padded up to him and rubbed itself against his legs. Everything about his demeanor screamed "why did I agree to this?" You simply giggled, causing Scaramouche’s frown to deepen.

Who knew that your cold and grumpy boyfriend would turn out to be such a cat magnet? You were having the time of your life snapping photos of Scaramouche with the fluffy felines. Although he was scowling in all of them, your heart couldn't help but do flips when you checked the images.

"Put your phone down," Scaramouche hissed at you. It turned out that being Scaramouche's significant other did not mean that you were exempt from hearing his irritated tone of voice. You shook your head, refusing to give in to his demands. Scaramouche rolled his eyes but didn't protest further. Although he would never admit it, he really did have a soft spot for you.

"Alright, time to set this as my phone wallpaper," you snickered, staring your boyfriend straight in his indigo eyes as you spoke. Scaramouche wrinkled his nose and glared at you.

"If you're going to make a photo of me your wallpaper, at least make it a good one," Scaramouche snorted.

You simply stared at Scaramouche, a little confused. "How would you know whether or the images turned out good? I haven't shown them to you yet." Scaramouche chuckled as though you had asked him the most ridiculous question he had ever heard in his life.

"Even if they're decent, I'm certain I could do better," Scaramouche smirked at you. Normally, you would have immediately shut Scaramouche down out of spite, but your curiosity got the better of you. You walked over to your boyfriend, ensuring that you took caution so as not to accidentally trip over any cats, and handed him your phone.

"Do your worst," you challenged him.

Without hesitation, Scaramouche wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you close to him, causing you to yelp. He then set your phone’s camera to selfie mode and took a picture of the two of you, ensuring that the small black and white cat sitting beside him was visible as well. It was, admittedly, a cute image, but you refused to accept defeat.

"So, what do you think? Am I a great photographer, or am I an absolutely godly photographer?" You groaned as your boyfriend grinned at you in a cheeky manner. How was it possibly for someone to have an inferiority complex and a massive ego at the same time?

"Whatever," you mumbled, refusing to acknowledge Scaramouche’s victory. "Watch my stuff. I’m going to the bathroom," and with that, you left your boyfriend to his own devices, with no one but the tiny cat by his side to keep him company.

When you returned from the bathroom, you were met with an absolutely shocking sight. You had to blink slowly and pinch yourself to ensure that you weren’t dreaming.

Scara was sitting on the ground with the black and white cat in his lap. He was scratching the creature behind the ears. The purrs of the feline rang out nonstop through the café, sounding almost like the rumbling of a motorcycle engine. As you looked more carefully, you noticed the corners of Scaramouche's lips were turned up in a small smile. His gaze also appeared softer than usual. You recognized it as a look that your boyfriend reserved for the few that he loved.

You quickly decided that you needed to capture the moment with your phone. However, there was just one problem. The device was on the ground right beside Scaramouche. It seemed that he had placed it down close to him in order to hold the cat.

With all the stealth and care that you could muster, you crept in your boyfriend's direction, inching toward your phone at an agonizing pace. Each second felt like an eternity spent in suspense, perpetually anticipating that Scaramouche would look up and realize you were there. Fortunately for you, he was too focused on petting the cat under its chin to notice you approaching.

Miraculously, you managed to make your way to Scaramouche's side nearly silently. Swiftly, you bent down to retrieve your phone. "Smile!" you exclaimed, causing your boyfriend to tilt his head upwards to gaze at you. The cat mimicked him. Scaramouche's eyes widened, and before he realized what was happening, you took a picture of him.

"Hey, look at that," you remarked, showing Scaramouche the image. "I took a better photo than you."

"You're a persistent fool," your boyfriend snapped with exasperation lacing his tone. He huffed out a sigh and went back to running his fingers through the cat's fur.

"But I'm your persistent fool," you insisted. It appeared as though your words had struck a chord within him, for as you made eye contact with your boyfriend, you observed that his indigo eyes had filled with a sporadic warmth.

"Hmph. Fine. I suppose you’re correct. After all, if you weren’t either of those things, you would have given up pursuing me by now," Scaramouche whispered. "What I meant to say was, thank you for putting up with me. I know I’m not the best boyfriend at times, but your stubbornness has allowed you to continue loving me. Thank you, so much, for being infuriatingly adamant, my dear."

(And for the record, you ended up making the photo you took of Scara and the cat your wallpaper)

Xiao

"Xiao, are you scared?" You eyed the dark-haired boy suspiciously. He had been hesitant to accompany you to the café in the first place, and now it seemed like he was avoiding any and all contact with the cats.

"No," he retorted, backing away from a large ragdoll cat. You giggled. He was definitely scared.

"Are you sure?"

Xiao paused for a moment before answering you, "Yes, I’m sure. Do you really think I would fear such helpless creatures?" You stayed silent, observing Xiao’s interactions with the ragdoll. Your boyfriend kept edging away from the feline as it stepped closer to him. It was clear that he was trying to be subtle about his movements, but he was failing miserably. For some reason or another, Xiao wanted the cat to stay away from him.

Unfortunately for Xiao, the cat eventually managed to back him into a corner. You knew it was time to step in and help when you saw Xiao shrink back. He looked at you, his amber eyes pleading for you to do something.

Suppressing your laughter, you picked up a toy mouse and dangled it in front of the feline that was holding your boyfriend hostage. Instead of leaping for the trinket, the cat turned to face you. It hissed at you and swiped its paw, aiming to scratch your arm. You moved out of the way just in time to avoid getting injured. It appeared that the ragdoll was solely focused on you now. You had saved your boyfriend but at what cost?

The cat refused to relent. Its aggression toward you didn't cease. A flurry of forceful bites and vicious clawing was unleashed. Behind the cat, Xiao stared at you, a conflicted look glinting in the honeyed irises of his eyes. However, something in him seemed to break when the cat finally managed to hurt you, causing a tiny bead of crimson blood to run down your left hand.

He frowned and clenched his fists. Sighing, Xiao carefully approached the cat, wrapping his arms around the feline. As soon as the overly-ferocious ball of fluff was lifted into Xiao's gentle hold, it calmed down. Your lips parted slightly as you regarded the sight in wonder. It seemed that the cat really liked Xiao.

"Is everything alright?" an unfamiliar voice rang out after the turmoil finally subsided. Upon examining your surroundings, you found that a café employee was standing a few steps away from you and Xiao. They glanced at you and then at Xiao. The worker did a double-take after seeing Xiao holding the cat. "Well that's a first."

"Is something wrong?" Xiao bluntly questioned the employee.

"No, not really. It's just that Toffee, the pretty ragdoll in your arms, typically doesn't take kindly to people. I don't know how you managed to win her trust, but it seems she enjoys being around you," they responded. "From the way you're holding her, it seems like you're a natural with cats!"

"You should have seen him earlier," you snorted. "He was afraid to even approach one of them." You noticed the tips of Xiao's ears slowly turning a shade of rosy pink. How adorable. "By the way, Xiao, why were you acting like that?" It was out of the ordinary for your nearly fearless boyfriend to cower in the face of such harmless prospects. Both you and the worker listened intently as Xiao spoke.

"Since you insist on knowing," Xiao started, sighing a little, "I feared that I would accidentally cause harm." Oh. That was why Xiao seemed reluctant to lay so much as a finger on the felines. You should have expected it. Your boyfriend was definitely a little intimidating and rough around the edges, but on the inside, he was an absolute sweetheart.

"It appears that you've done the opposite though," the employee remarked. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen Toffee this relaxed. I think she feels safe with you." Xiao peered down at the cat, and sure enough, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was serene and gentle. She had fallen asleep.

"I see," Xiao responded dryly. To most, Xiao would have appeared rude for his lack of a complex response, but you knew that your boyfriend simply didn't know how to keep a conversation going. Throughout the course of your relationship, you had to learn how to read into the smallest of gestures to truly comprehend how much Xiao loved you. Thankfully, the worker standing before you simply brushed off his wry response.

"You know, the cats here are up for adoption," they said, addressing both you and Xiao. "I think it would be lovely if Toffee could go to a home where she feels secure." You exchanged a look with Xiao. The two of you knew exactly what the worker was insinuating.

"We'll consider it," Xiao told them.

(After two weeks of tireless late-night research, you returned to the cat café to sign the adoption papers)

#r.archives *ೃ༄#heizou x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin fanfic

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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

Text

here to help — spike spiegel

spike can't help but say yes when you ask him to help you with something so nicely.

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, cat girl!reader, dub-con if you squint, smoking, spike's eye wasn't the only thing experimented on (wink), pet names, spike is kind of a perv but in a hot way, very brief mentions of blood, dacryphilia, bit of a size kink, he's nice in a mean way, unsafe sex, fluff at the end

✎ word count: 3.8k (proofread this time wowie!)

✎ author's note: i know i haven't posted anything in a month oops sorry ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) ... anyways i'm back and still working on call of duty stuff for those who follow me for that! but i'm also gonna start writing for jujutsu kaisen and cowboy bebop now yippee!

masterlist

spike really, really hated sharing a wall with you right now.

being the latest addition to the bebop, the room next to spike's had been the only empty one left, and you were just so sweet. he had just grumbled a "fine" and went on with his day, thinking that you were agreeable enough to live next to.

you were quiet, certainly more-so than faye; he had reasoned with himself that that was why he said yes. not that your pointed cat ears atop your head and fluffy tail that flicked side to side and curled when you were happy was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

you had sheepishly explained them when it was just you and him in the living room. he had asked what the deal was with "all that", and you had twiddled your thumbs in your lap and told him about the medical tests gone very wrong. he had started scolding faye and jet whenever they made jokes after that, and kept ed away from poking at you.

now, though, you were anything but quiet.

spike could hear every moan and gasped breath you uttered through the thin wall, his bed of course pressed up against it. he could hear the sounds of you desperately fingering yourself, wet noises between your voiced frustrations. you must have been soaked.

he wasn't stupid; he had figured it out pretty quick. after the first night, when faye had knocked on your door to drag you out and you said you were sick, he knew you were lying. after the second night he realized you were in heat.

this was now the third night in a row, and he was exhausted. it was hard to get any sleep with you practically crying out in his ear, making him painfully hard throughout the whole night. at least he knew now why you would disappear for a week every month you'd been here. this time, though, the bebop just had to be out of fuel, unable to get to the nearest planet with a hotel.

spike was fed up.

he was just going to go over to your door and tell you to be quiet. right? well, he didn't want to embarrass you. but you had to know he could hear you. you had to know he could hear everything, even the whines of his name that you were poorly attempting to keep quiet.

your door stood in front of him and spike was unsure of what to do, more than he had been in a long while. should he knock? just yell and hope you hear?

he was about to just turn away when the door slid open; he hadn't even realized you'd gone quiet. he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open as he processed the fact that the only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts.

"spike," you sighed, as if just seeing him gave you some kind of relief. your eyes were glazed and wet like you were on the verge of crying.

it took him several moments to recover. "you're... being loud," he finally managed to say.

"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down. "can't help it, it just hurts."

"you need some help?"

spike was just as surprised as you seemed to be by the words that had just come out, but your breathy voice, wet thighs, and having been already thinking about this for awhile won him over.

"are- are you serious?"

"wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it." he was walking forward into your doorframe, tall enough that he almost had to slouch. it made him very aware of just how small you were compared to him. "do you want my help?"

you nodded, backing up as he slid the door shut behind him and moved closer to you. when you were at the edge of your bed and couldn't back up anymore, he came close enough to cup your face with his hands and bend down until your lips were a hair's breadth apart.

"you gotta say it, sweetheart."

your hands were on his bare chest, nails almost digging in. "yes, please, need your help, spike-"

he pushed his lips into yours and you let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard. his hands were running through your hair, down your back and to your waist and under your (his) shirt, swallowing your noises the entire time.

breaking your kiss to pull off your shirt, he marveled at the sight of you. he was laying you down on your bed and biting and licking down your body before he knew it, until he kneeled between your legs, pushing them up to get a better view.

your hands were already in his unruly hair to try and tug him to where you needed him to be, but he didn't budge. instead he brought his hand down from under your knee, each grazing touch closer to your core making you twitch.

"shit, you're so sensitive, baby," he muttered. his fingers had barely touched your clit and you were already crying out.

"please, spike, please just do something," you whimpered when his hand went back to your thigh.

"what do you want me to do, hm?"

"something, anything, please spike!" he almost felt bad when tears started welling up in your eyes again. almost.

"anything?" he echoed with a giddy smile.

he slid two fingers inside you easily. you were practically dripping wet, a damp spot already forming underneath you. he cursed again as he felt how tight you were, watching your back arch almost immediately.

"ha-a, ah! spike!"

your voice was music to his ears, a song he wanted to play on loop forever. he'd been imagining it, your whimpers and pleas, for months now. it was about time the universe paid him back.

it took less than a minute for you to cum, your body going stiff and your voice choking. spike almost came himself when he felt your pussy contracting around his fingers.

he gave you barely any time to recover before he was licking up your juices, sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into you. you just about screamed, but you didn't push him away, only pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hair to claw at any skin you could reach.

you were already reduced to a babbling mess and he couldn't stop muttering about just how sweet and addicting you were.

"fuuuck, sweetheart," he dragged out, finally detaching himself from your clit after you'd came twice more. "can't get enough of you."

spike stood up and you whined, sitting up and trying to get his sweatpants off before he even had a chance to himself.

he choked out a moan when you started licking and sucking at his cock as soon as his pants were down, looking like you were entering the same trance he had just been in. it took every ounce of willpower he had to drag you off of him and lift you back onto the bed.

"you can do that later, angel. i'm here to help you, right?"

you seemed to forget about going down on him pretty quickly, opting instead for trying to drag the man closer as he crawled over you. he gave in to you rather easily, meeting his lips with yours again.

admittedly, he had been giving into you a lot lately. he would give you the last snack left and let you lean against him on the couch when you were tired. he would let you come with him when he split off from the group when you touched down in a new place.

and of course, everyone noticed. they saw how soft he was with you, how his stature relaxed and he slouched just a bit closer to your level when you walked into the room. and of course, they teased him relentlessly about it.

jet had even asked him once if spike thought you went into heats.

"well, she disappears for a week every month. what if that's when- ya know-"

"faye disappears all the time. so do i. besides, it's none of our business."

spike would never admit that he got off to the thought of it. and now, here he was, basically living his dreams. he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

you whined when he started rubbing his dick over your pussy, his head bumping your clit with each grind. he found your attempts to line your hips up so he would finally fuck into you adorable; there wasn't much you could do though when he had his arms hooked under your knees and hands grabbing at your waist.

"aww, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he patronized, breaking away from kissing you. you were still grabbing at him wherever you could. "what is it? you want me to fuck you?"

"mhm, need you to, please spike- ah!"

he wasted no time pushing into you as soon as he heard your sweet voice, cursing as he slowly pressed in further and further, barely dragging his hips back before he would slide in more.

"oh, fuck, baby- so fuckin' tight, can barely fit my dick inside you- shit!"

you cried out when he finally bottomed out; it was like he was reshaping you to fit him inside. it had been so long since you had been with someone, since someone had helped you with your heat, but even then it had never felt as good as it did now.

he was about to ask if you were alright when you started begging him to move, to fuck you, to please help you. his final shred of resolve snapped before he grabbed one of your wrists as leverage to start hammering into you.

your back arched again and spike took that as an opportunity to lean down and suck on one of your nipples. he wasn't surprised when you came again already, your cunt tightening until he felt like he could barely move. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug as deep as they could into spike's back, probably drawing blood. he didn't care, though, because you looked so pretty cumming on his cock.

spike kept making you cum as much as he could until he couldn't fight off his own orgasm anymore (he was honestly impressed with himself that he'd managed to even last this long).

"where do you want me, baby? huh? where d'you want my cum?" he breathed, watching your body squirm and twitch from overstimulation.

you couldn't even answer him, feeling like he fucked your brain right out of your head. all you could think of was the pleasure overtaking your entire being, of wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.

when you didn't say anything, spike leaned down over you and left your leg on his shoulder to lightly grab your jaw.

"c'mon, angel, you gotta answer me," he panted. "you want me to cum inside you, right?"

that seemed to bring you out your haze a little bit and you nodded, ears teary and face painted a cute shade of pink. "mhm- ah- cum in- side, ah! please!" you managed.

he came with a harsh groan, bullying his dick as far into you as he could as he filled you up. you came with him one more time, your body clinging onto his, trying to keep him from pulling out.

you both stayed like that for some time, kissing slow and stealing the other's body heat. you whimpered when he pulled away and started to untangle your limbs from his, but he shushed you with another smile.

"don't worry, sweetheart. we're far from being done."

spike found out just how sensitive your extra appendages are pretty quickly, and he absolutely took advantage of it.

scratching and petting your soft ears made you melt against him, like putty in his hands. he found you're much more pliant when he does it, less whiny and more grateful.

of course, spike wasn't a complete dick, so he would take you into his room to feed both of his addictions at once. like when he was fucking you but stopped every time you were about to cum, torturing you just to see what you'd do. he had your hands tied to his headboard, keeping one hand on your stomach to pin you down and using the other to smoke a cigarette while he lazily fucked you.

"nngh, nonono- please! spike, you're bein' mean-"

he bends down over you to put out his cigarette on the bedside table, making him press deeper into you; you nearly came just from that, choking on your words.

"i'm being mean? sweetheart, i'm helping you." he cupped your face and debated internally for a second before he reached up to pet and rub your little cat ears soothingly.

your tensed limbs went slack, no longer tugging on your binds or trying to pull him closer with your legs. your wide eyes became lidded and you started nuzzling your head further into his hand.

"you asked for my help, remember? this is how i help you, baby," he cooed, and when you gave a little nod and a whimpered "mhm" he smiled. "you just gotta be a good girl and take it. can you do that?"

you nodded again. "mhm, i'll be good," you mumbled.

"good," spike said, reaching for another cigarette and leaning back up to light it. he put a hand back on your stomach and when he wasn't holding his cigarette he was petting your ears as he went back to slowly dragging his hips back and forth.

he also found out that tugging on your tail made you cum nearly instantly, and he used that until you were crying.

you were on your hands and knees on the floor with spike fucking you from behind, having to hold your hips to keep them up; he was holding your hair in a messy ponytail to make you watch it all in the floor-length mirror that was in front of you.

the curl of your tail against your back was just so cute, and having seen the effect of touching your ears, he had no hesitation in grabbing your tail lightly. your body shuddered and twitched and your back arched when you let out a loud whine.

"shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling your pussy tightening around him. "you really like that, don't you angel?"

"fu-uck, mm-mm, i don'-"

he grabbed the base of your tail and tugged, and you were clawing at the blankets underneath you as you came.

"ha, why are you lying to me, baby?" spike breathed, tossing his head back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "thought you were finally being good."

he flipped you over with a pillow under your back and tried it again while he ate you out, and he was delighted to feel your cunt pulsing around his tongue. he tried it when he was just rubbing your clit, when he only had two fingers inside of you, when he was just sucking on your tits. you came every time, and each time made you try to claw your way away from him a little more. he never let you run; even if he did, he knew you would just come right back.

"one more time, baby, just one more for me," he kept saying, until you were reaching back to grab his wrist, his arm, his chest, anything to get him to let up.

"please, ple- ah, spike!" you hiccupped. which one of you was the one in heat again? "break, i need- nnh- need a break!"

he slowed down his thrusts and took his hand away from your tail, your sob turning into one of relief.

"alright, baby, we can take a break, you just gotta give me one more," he said, leaning down over you to kiss the back of your neck. you tried to shake your head, tried to say you couldn't give him anymore; it was then that you realized you definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with him if you continued this after your heat was over.

"i know you can, doin' so good for me," he just mumbled as he fucked you slower, until he finally let himself cum, of course making sure to give your tail one last squeeze. he couldn't help himself when it forced the cutest moans out of you.

he filled you with his cum over and over again, the both of you passing out for a couple of hours just to wake up and fuck all over again.

he would wake up to you sucking his dick, you would wake up to him spooning you and giving you hickies in the spaces between the ones he'd already left while he fingered you open again.

the only other time you stopped fucking is when he forced you to take a break and shower. you clung to him like a koala bear the entire way to the bathroom, fucked again in the shower, and clung to him all the way back.

during the duration of your heat, spike found himself being a lot more caring than he had been to someone in a very long time. he made sure you drank plenty of water, took you to the bathroom, made sure you ate still, dealt with your whining every second he wasn't physically touching you. in truth, he liked how much it made him feel needed.

he only ran into jet once while he quickly raided the fridge and filled up water bottles. jet came in just as he was hugging the supplies to his shirtless chest.

"spike! where the hell have you been?"

"uh... well, turns out she does go into heat," he said with a shrug and a slightly smug grin, walking past jet.

"oh, shit... wait, how do you know-" his jaw dropped when he saw spike's chest, back and arms, scratched to hell and marked with bites from your little fangs. he told faye, edward, and ein that you two were both very sick and needed to be "quarantined", counting himself lucky their bedrooms were all on the opposite side of the ship from yours.

you both stayed in your routine of fucking, sleeping, eating, and being forced to bathe for four days before your system starts calming down (spike had found himself considering the experiments done on himself more good than bad; he was so grateful he could keep up with you).

it's when you wake up with a pained groan as he's stretching out his overused muscles that he knows you're finally sobering up. as much as he loved the sex marathon, he was starting to get sore all over.

he plops back down next to you and you roll over to lay on top of him, but for the first time in days you don't start nipping at his chest and grinding against him. you just let out a little whine and go back to sleep. he can't help the little smile that spreads across his lips, and he reaches up to gently pet your ears and hair until he falls back asleep too.

you're shook awake a few hours later, blearily cracking open your eyes to see spike setting down a tray of "beef" and vegetables next to you on the bed. he gently moves your legs to sit beside you and eat his own.

"morning, sweetheart," he says when you raise your head and mumble something along the same lines back, slowly shifting onto your back and sitting up with another groan.

spike frowns a little in worry, wondering now if he had been too rough on you. it doesn't match up to your face of horror, though, when you look up and see his shirtless body.

"oh god, spike, 'm so sorry! you didn't have to- oh god," you ramble in panic, reaching out to him then retracting your hands and hiding your face in them, curling up into a ball.

spike laughs a little bit before he reaches over and gently takes your wrists in his hands to show your face to him again. "it's alright! hey, really, it's alright. i love the kind of woman who stakes her claim," he reassured with a cheesy smile.

your face goes red and you look down, embarrassed. "you didn't have to help me. i'm sorry- 'm sorry i made you do... all that."

"i seem to recall making you do a lot of things, too. very happily, too."

"well, yeah, but-"

"trust me, i enjoyed every minute of it, princess. well, except maybe having to force you into the shower. and having to spoon-feed you."

"you did not have to spoon-feed me!" you mutter indignantly, brows furrowing adorably and your tail flicking behind you.

"yes, i did," he sys, pointing his fork at you as he went back to his tray, "when you just needed to keep my dick inside you but didn't want to stop fucking yourself on it long enough to eat. had to hold you down." he acts like he's complaining, but he has a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time.

you choke on your own spit a little before huffing; before you can turn to your own food he adds on, "eat, don't make me force feed you again." you half-pout and half-glare at him, but you shovel the food into your mouth nonetheless.

once you're beyond full, you collapse back onto the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep and let your hormones rebalance on their own. you were always sore and exhausted for a day or two after your heat, but you usually slept through it anyways.

"hey." apparently, spike has other plans. "come on, we gotta take a bath." he's hauling you back into a sitting position and pulling his t-shirt over your head, which of course swallows you whole, despite all your whines and protests. "quit complaining, all you gotta do is sit in the water."

regardless of his front of acting like he was doing you a favor, he lets you cling to him again all the way to the bathroom. he washes your hair and cleans you off, makes sure the water isn't too hot for you. generally, you hate baths, but this seemed like something you could live with.

when he's toweled you dry and put you in one of his clean shirts, you sit on the counter while he finishes pulling up his sweats.

he picks you up again and as he starts walking you both back to your room, he asks, "so when did you take my shirt, anyway?"

spike feels you tense up and your cheeks get warm where they're pressed into the crook of his neck.

"i didn't take it," you squeak, "it got- it got mixed up in the laundry..."

"riiight. sure, sweetheart."

#cowboy bebop #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel x female reader #spike spiegel x you #spike spiegel smut #cowboy bebop smut #— lilly writes! ♡

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faux-ecrivain · 4 months

Text

Part Two of Anon number 9’s request

———————————————————— Yan Neighbor; would be upset, while you stayed with him, you often kept him out of your nest and prevented him from helping make it. So, anytime you went to that nest, he would try anything to get you away from it and into his lap…or his room. It never worked, but he definitely tried. ———————————————————— Yan Emperor; He encourages your habits and even helps make your nest, although it does take a bit of convincing on his part. But, eventually, you relent and allow him to join you in your nest. Unfortunately, he takes this as an invitation to hold you, and now you’re stuck in his arms. You think his actions are embarrassing, and it makes you feel like he doesn’t respect you. Hence, why you keep kicking him out and no longer allow him in your nest. Of course, he takes advantage of your strange behavior and finds an excuse to keep you at his castle for quite some time. (Until you have to go back to war that is) ———————————————————— Yan Duke; adores you, he likes petting your fluffy ears and snuggling you in your nest. Although, such actions are few and far between, he only ever gets away with it when you’re asleep. He feels a bit bad when he’s petting you, you probably think he’s disrespectful to you. But he isn’t, really, he’s just so fascinated with your appearance, and he finds it a bit amusing that someone like you (meaning fuzzy ears) is a decorated war general. Not because he finds it impossible, but because he can image the astonishment/embarrassment your enemies must have felt upon being cut down by someone such as you. ———————————————————— 1950s Househusband; is frustrated and amused, he’s upset because you’ve abducted all his pretty little throw pillows, and he’s amused because your animalistic protection of your nest is so cute! Although, this cuteness of yours is quickly diminished because you refuse to return his throw pillows, you’re making a mess, and you growl at him if he gets too close. Which of course causes him to scold you sternly, and that straightens you out. But, he doesn’t take all your pillows, just the throw pillows that usually decorate the couch. Once he’s got his pillows back, your cuteness factor is back, and he decides to go easy on you for once. So, you get to spend the rest of the night in a comfy little bed, and he gets all his pretty throw pillows back. ———————————————————— Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; he doesn’t like animals, and he definitely doesn’t like thieves. Hence, when he finds out you stole his pillows, covers and basically anything comfortable to make a stupid nest, he gets upset and tries to get his stuff back. But, it’s a fruitless battle, and you have no intention of letting go of anything in your nest, so anytime he comes near you snarl and growl at him. After a few too many close calls, he relents and begrudgingly decides to just leave you alone. When you get back to normal, expect a confusing conversation that centers around blaming you for everything existing, and then a much more baffling conversation about which covers belong to whom. ———————————————————— Yan Darling; thinks you’re adorable and joins you in your nest, it doesn’t matter how much you fight him, he stays by your side and cuddles you all day. He just adores your fuzzy ears and your furry tail, he finds your fox attributes cute, and he takes numerous pictures of you. Occasionally, he’ll even bring you some comfier pillows and help adjust your nest. At first, you were reluctant to allow him. (He’s delusional, but he loves you) ———————————————————— Yan Fan of Supernatural; is fawning over it, like taking pictures and everything. He thinks that you have to be some sort of supernatural creature, he was disappointed to learn that you were just some strange fox hybrid. Still, you were cute and warm, so at the very least he cuddled you and assisted you with the nest. ———————————————————- (Also, I imagine that Arctic fox reader looks like one of those cat humans but with a fluffier white tail and fluffy white ears.)

#yandere oc #my writing #yandere x reader #gn reader #not the best #answer.#question?#fanfic #anon #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #enjoy this short fanfic!#various Yandere x reader #My various OCS

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sanzuballs · 1 year

Text

theyre the type tooo… || part 2!

ft. monster trio + law

hello babygirls. i love doing hcs and u guys KNOW u love it so YEAHH. i just got done w all one piece dubbed episodes and im thinking abt rewatching one piece like a loser smh. mostly fluffy ☺️

—-

zoro would be the type of guy just to literally act nonchalant but he cant keep the cool guy act up.

“isnt this outfit just so cute?!” you chirped at him. it wasnt your usual outfit, it was much more revealing.

“mhm.” he said, barely looking over his shoulder then quickly going back to what he was doing.

then when you guys went out he would not shut up.

“arent you cold?” he’d ask. “take my jacket.” he’d demand. “i swear those guys were staring at you, hard.” he swore. he almost diced up a guy that he ASSUMED to cat called you.

not the type to call you “woman” and be a sex god that wants to do anal.

——-

sanji would be the type of guy to give you a nice massage.

“are you okay my sweet?” his head popped up when you let out a long sigh. “cmere.”

“im okay, just tense.” you gave him a weak smile.

“get on your stomach, let me help you.” he demanded you do it. “let me put some of my strength to use.”

after he drew hearts on your back and massaged it until you fell asleep, he gave you a kiss on the forehead and tucked you in and you two cuddled. that was probably the best nights’ sleep youve had in years.

not the type to sexually harrass you every single second and make you insecure.

———

luffy would be the type of guy to suck at aftercare until…. yikes btw if ur man dont do aftercare, leave dat hoe

“okay, y/n. that was good, huh? well that took alot of energy i need some meat!!” luffy put his hands on his hips and started out.

“luffy.. please..” you mummered out, for gods sake you were definitely fucked out, luffy never goes easy on you.

“hm? ya’ say something?” he turns around and meets with your teary eyes. “y/n?! whats wrong, you hurt??”

“no, i just want you to stay with me after we’ve been intimate, its called aftercare.” luffys expression softens into a sad one. he hates how he was the source of your discomfort. from then on, he never left your side after sex, even if he was starving.

no offense yall but luffy is not the type of man to share you with zoro and sanji like willingly.

——

law is the type of guy to want you on his lap so bad but never would admit it.

“law, ya’ busy?” you poke your head into his office, finding him sitting and studying a book.

“no, need anything?” he glances over to you.

“just wanna sit and spent time with you.” you shrug as you sit on a small desk next to his stacks of medical books.

“well okay, how about you sit somewhere else?” he perks up a eyebrow.

“law, where?” you were starting to get really confused with his actions. “ooohhh i get it, you want me on your lap, huh?” you finally noticed it, the way he made room for you to sit on his lap, the way his chair was pushed back, his book going to one hand, and the manspread he did.

“what?? no, i just didnt want you… knocking down… the-“ his stupid angry stammering was cut off by you sitting on his lap.

you felt his arm wrap around you as you snuggled into the crook of his neck.

“yeah, that hits the spot.” he gives you a kiss on the back of your neck.

would not be a completely different big huge cutie softie for u. sry. hes law.

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honeybadgerwritings · 2 years

Note

Imagine Eddie and Steve teasing the reader for being shy, but the moment someone else does it they immediately become all protective over you 😭

Oh my god they so would…this is the cutest fucking thing ever!!!

You’d just look up at them with a big ole’ pout on your lips, arms crossed over your chest, and they’d be staring down at you with shit eating grins.

“C’mon princess— no need to be so shy.” Eddie would lightly pinch your reddened cheek between his ringed fingers, “Dawww, look at those cheeks blush Stevie.”

The fluffy haired man would chuckle, bending down to your level and making you squirm under his gaze, “What’s the matter baby?” Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “It’s just us… why so nervous?”

“Stop ittt!” You’d whine and stomp your foot, hiding your face in your crossed arms. They’d chuckle, relishing in your bashfulness. Eddie’d bend down next to Steve, smiling wide.

“Look at me honey.” And you’d shake your head, responding with a muffled “uh-uh.” Steve would snicker at that, hand reaching out to gently rub your lower back.

“Poor thing, can’t even look at us.” He’d make eye contact with Eddie, whose still enjoying this as much as he is. “You guys are mean.” You’d pout, still hiding your face, and Eddie would smirk, lifting your chin between his fingers so you have no other choice but to look at him and Steve.

“I know baby,” he’d look over to Steve and wink, “We’re just the meanest aren’t we?”

You’d nod, still pouting at them. Steve would lean forward, placing a kiss on your flushed cheek.

“We can’t help it though sweetness, you’re just too cute.”

But god help anyone else who tried to use your shyness against you. Maybe you’d helped another student by doing their homework for them, and hadn’t gotten a high enough grade on it to be satisfactory.

“You gonna say something?”

You’d want to tell them that it’s just a B+ and it’s nothing to cry over, but your shyness would get the better of you, and you’d shrink in on yourself.

“What, cat got your tongue? Too scared to own up to this— this bullshit?” Tears would begin to well in your eyes and you’d bite your lip, looking anywhere but at them. “Oh here we go, shy, stupid, and a crybaby. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Hey!”

The booming voice would appear out of nowhere, startling both of you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Another voice would fill the silence as you’d watch Eddie brush past you. Steve would be right behind him, stepping in front of you to keep you from the person’s view.

“Say that shit again, I dare you.” Eddie would seethe, towering over them, and the person would tremble underneath his gaze, rambling out apologies as they step away from the three of you.

“Shut the fuck up and get lost.” Steve would spit, and they wouldn’t hesitate, turning on their heel and scrambling down the hallway. They’d forget where they were for a second as they watch the student run, until they’d hear you sniffle behind them, spinning around to find you with a trembling lower lip and teary eyes.

“They- they said I’m shy and stupid and-” you’d cut yourself off with a choked sob. The boys would be on you in a second, cradling your face, whispering reassurances, whatever you needed.

“Oh honey, they don’t deserve these tears.” Steve would thumb away the salty wetness from your puffy cheeks, while Eddie’d hold you from behind, arms around your waist and his chin resting on your head. “You’re so perfect, there’s nothing wrong with being shy.”

“But I-”

“Ah ah-” Eddie would cut off your worried remark, “You heard Stevie. You’re perfect. Our perfect, smart little thing.”

You’d nod slowly, sniffling as Eddie’d place a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “You guys didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Course’ we did,” Steve would grin at you, “Besides, we’re the only ones who get to tease you for being shy.”

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noisyquokka · 11 months

Text

The In-Betweens

PAIRING - Minho x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - After a year of cat and mouse, Minho realizes his mistake too late. Will he be able to convince you that he's invested in something more?

WORDCOUNT - 7.7k

WARNINGS - Angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff, a lil suggestive, miscommunication, One Night Stand turns to No Strings Attached turns to Fear of Commitment, Minho is bad with serious romantic relationships, emotional-support Soonie (it's a warning in its own right, thank you very much!)

A/N - It's been a while friends, but I'm back...? And I'm bringing the angst train with me! I've written a lot (and I mean A LOT!) of fluffy, happy, cute shit over the years of having this Tumblr, and I've been absolutely hankering for some good angst because I'm a little masochist who loves ripping my own heart out and splattering it onto concrete. So without further ado…

The 8th floor apartment is deathly silent for being situated in the heart of Seoul, Minho thinks. Or perhaps it's the indisputable ringing in his ears that scrambles his senses. He shoulders the front door closed, leaning back into it once the mechanism latches as tired optics scan the dimly lit space.

The apartment sat the same as it always had at this hour - shadows crawling up beige walls, reaching toward the empty sofa that Minho swore he would replace at some point. The damn thing is about as comfortable as a cardboard box.

Still, Minho found himself stalking towards the godforsaken thing, tossing his jacket over the back as he crashed against the back of the couch like a crumbling building. An exasperated grunt leaves his lungs, muscle and bones sinking into the weaved cushions like soil reclaiming his remains.

Gone.

The apartment was so quiet because you were gone. No longer a home as he had began to think every time he walked in to see your shoes by the door, or a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet next to his. You weren't humming along to the playlist you'd put on whilst making dinner for the two of you. Because you left. Brown eyes close at the realization. Not that Minho had to realize it, no. It was merely a reminder along with the white-noise that whirred within his eardrums as he stumbled closer and closer to his apartment door every night.

The whirring in his ears stopped only at the weight of a furry shadow against his calf and then his chest. Brown optics met green feline ones as Soonie hopped onto the couch beside his caretaker. Minho visibly relaxed at the cat's presence, deft fingers conforming to orange tabby fur. Content purrs vibrated through one being into the other, melding the two souls into one.

"Soonie..." He breathes, melting even further into the couch as Soonie nuzzles his head against Minho's jaw, white-socked paws kneading softly into his clothed chest. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

The question was more rhetorical than anything. Of course, you fucked up, dumbass! You led them on for months. It was stupid of him to think that you would stick around after months of the push and pull. To be frank, Minho didn't expect this fling to last as long as it did - nevermind evolve into more.

What could he say?

He began to enjoy your company a little more than he anticipated. Those moments with you were ingrained in every wrinkle of his brain, more than half of them in this very apartment. Hell, you had never moved in with him, but the amount of time you spent here made it seem as such. Along with the amount of personal belongings that slowly accumulated. He remembers the night he'd teased you about it.

"Not even three months and you're already moving in?" His breath tickles the skin at the back of your neck, chills raising over the exposed flesh as he presses a chaste kiss there. You shudder at the contact, attempting to keep your focus on the eggs currently sizzling over the stove top. The Seoul skyline burns with the start of a new day, casting a persimmon glow through the apartment.

"Mm, I wouldn't consider a toothbrush and a few clothes 'moving in', Minho." You counter, reaching down for the arm that rests over your waist, holding you against him. "Offer's tempting though. Your shower's a hell of a lot better than mine."

Lips twitch at your comment, a faux smirk that chokes him out.

What the fuck...

You had stayed the night again - the fifteenth time in a row now, Minho notes. Not that it bothered him; having a warm body to lie with in place of cold sheets. It had the muscle in his chest working overtime, pumping blood to every last inch of his being, washing over him like a drug.

That was what bothered him.

Before you get a chance to turn around, nimble fingers reach for the spatula in your grip, a murmur of, "I got it". A sly grin. That arm around your waist leaves you as the man's attention is taken up with finishing breakfast.

The usual sounds of the kitchen take over - the sizzling skillet, dishes and utensils clinking, low-fi thumping through the Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen island. Feline trills are a welcome sound as you pull the dishes out of the overhead cupboard. Orange cream hops onto the kitchen counter and nuzzles against your torso in greeting. You glance down to meet sea glass and twitching whiskers.

"Morning, handsome." You coo, fingers carding through the short hairs atop his head. Soonie meows in response, stretching his neck into your palm as you massage his cranium in circular motions. He purrs at the contact, completely mesmerized by your magic fingers. Minho catches the interaction from the corner of his eye, lips pulling back in a grin.

You hum to yourself as you continue - one hand petting the greedy feline, the other pulling the dishes needed from the cupboard - and Minho can't help his gaze from straying to the source of the sound.

Fucking stunning, he thinks to himself, spatula resting against the edge of the pan. Sun-kissed legs sway along with your hips as you get lost in the beat of the seemingly endless playlist.

And he gets lost in you.

He swallows as his gaze travels upwards. The shirt that covered your shoulders had belonged to him at one point, baggy and loosely hanging low enough to hide the expanse of your thighs. Were you even wearing shorts? He couldn't recall if they were still strewn somewhere in the hallway with the rest of your discarded garments from the night prior. No matter, it seemed you'd staked your claim to his clothes like Soonie claims the warm, sunny spot near the window in the living room. Even farther, and Minho finds himself at your neck and jaw - the flesh there peppered in deep hues of red and purple. A temporary claim of his own. He grins at the thought -

"-Minho!"

"Ah, fuck!"

You're beside him in an instant, turning the burner off and rushing the skillet to the sink. Cold water douses raging heat, burnt eggs slipping over the edge of the pan into the sink along with bits of melted plastic. You sigh, leaning against the marbled countertop. You feel Minho's presence over your shoulder, a sigh of his own leaving him. A quiet moment passes, save for the fading sounds of the cooling pan hissing.

"When you said you had it, I sure as hell didn't expect you to mean you were cooking the spatula." You chide, turning to face him. He chuffs at your comment, eyebrows raising as the space between the two of you dwindles to none.

"I'll have you know that you are the worst distraction this side of interstellar space."

'Fuck, did I just say that? Out loud?' Minho swears his head is spinning, the scent from your body wash egging it on in the close proximity.

Your gaze narrows on him and you tilt your head, instinctually wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him impossibly closer. Contact that has the man inwardly keening. Like fucking magic, you were.

"Oh, so I'm the problem, huh?" You say, mock disbelief laced in your tone. Your ability to keep the energy playful was godly, even as Minho felt the snare tighten around his neck. You don't seem to notice though, and he keeps up with your banter ten-fold, warm hands settling on your waist. The fabric of your shirt bunches in his grip.

"The biggest problem, baby," He mutters, leaning so close that his breath fans over your lips. His grip on you is firm, one hand traveling up the side of your body until it finds a home at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He feels your pulse sing beneath the skin. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were distracting me on purpose."

He watches you roll your eyes, even as you lean into that touch, a hint of a grin on your lips. Heat floods the back of his neck when you run your fingers through the dark tresses of hair that reside there. Minho catches the groan in the back of his throat.

"Are you sure you're not just... terrible at focusing?" You prod, smoothing down the wrinkles in his t-shirt before your eyes lock with his again. There's a spark in yours - notes of collected mischief that only you could hold for the man in front of you.

"I am more than capable of focusing," He says, but as large hands squeeze the flesh at your waist, you read his actions well enough.

His hand on your neck moves north, capturing your chin in his fingertips to angle your head upward. Brown optics bore into yours, flitting down to bitten lips, long fingers smoothing the skin with delicate strokes. Then, he's leaning down, and you barely have time to react to the all-encompassing feeling of his mouth on yours.

He's already deepening the kiss, a rumble within his ribs that sounds like the purring of a cat at the sensation of your nails embedding themselves in the back of his head, teeth grazing the plush of his bottom lip. He revels in the sound that leaves your chest - something between a groan and a sigh. Minho feels himself crashing, the floor beneath him shaky as if a sinkhole is ready to give way.

This feels too domestic.

Too real.

His lungs shrivel in his chest, heart thundering behind its marrow cage with a vengeance. Buried six feet below the surface, alive and struggling to survive long enough to dig himself out. But you've got him ensnared - every time he attempts his escape, you're pulling that cord tighter - like a raptor struggling to break the net caught around its wings. The feeling akin to... anxiety, was it? He needs out and you're not allowing it.

Minho feels you pull back before he has the chance, heads in a collective haze as you laugh breathily. Foreheads connect, a semblance of comfort for the man; grounding him to the present moment. The apartment is quiet again, aside from two erratic hearts beating and a feline purring somewhere. Finally, you speak up - whispered words kissing his cheeks.

"Got any baking soda?"

Those brown eyes blink open at your question, brows creasing against your forehead.

"For?"

"Saving your skillet."

He chuckles, velvet and silk bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, and you can't help how much you love the sound.

"Bottom cabinet next to the fridge. Middle shelf."

Minho thinks that your smile never looks as genuine as when you direct it at him. So much authenticity from one individual... for one individual. Was that even possible?

The cabinet door shuts with a thud, bringing him back to you and the current mess. You work like a well-oiled machine - pulling the handle of what was once the plastic spatula out of the pan, emptying the soggy eggs and water. Minho watched from over your shoulder as you filled the pan just enough to cover the melted plastic and mixed in the right amount of baking soda before placing the pan back on the stove. In reality, you didn't need to do this. Minho would buy a new one if he had to. But you were so quick to fix the mess he'd made, he didn't even bother telling you to stop.

"There! Once it starts to simmer," You clasp your hands together, turning away from the active burner with a look of pride, "the plastic should come up and your skillet will be saved."

The kitchen stared back at him, shrouded in a void. Even without the lights on, Minho could see the demons in the deepest shadows, phantoms that swirled and floated over the space like lions hiding in tall savannah grasses, surveying. Sizing up potential prey.

And Minho was the prime rib of a wildebeest grazing away from its herd, none the wiser to the salivating maws camouflaged in the desert brush.

He spots that same skillet on the stovetop - melted plastic a distant memory as you did, indeed, save it. Now, he wishes he'd bought a new one.

You and Minho had agreed to keep this fling 'no strings attached' from the beginning. And while you had agreed, he couldn't help but notice the difference in your behaviour as the weeks progressed to months. Perhaps you had just gotten more comfortable with him. Let your walls fall the more you got to know him. All Minho knew was that the way you treated him made his chest fuzzy, like carbonation rising to the top of a just-opened soda can.

The first time he'd felt that was five months in - a simple text message...

'Can we talk?'

In any other circumstance, Minho would've been unbothered by those three words. Can we talk. It was what you'd expect from your spouse when things weren't going too hot, or an ex wanting to explain themselves, wanting another chance. Someone who wanted to end things. His heart had never tightened in his chest like it had that evening.

He wondered if he had done something to offend you. Expected you to tell him things weren't working for you and this whole fling was over and done. In the anxiety of it all, he still managed a calm reply of, 'Yeah. Whenever you're ready.'

The reality was that you just needed an outlet to rant about the shit day you'd had at work. Something about your supervisor expecting more from you than the rest of the team you were working alongside. Minho barely comprehended what you were upset about, too enthralled by the searing embers in your eyes through the video call and the passion in your chest as you spoke about the job that you loved and the people that made it less enjoyable for you. If anyone would have walked into his apartment and saw him, they would've thought he was talking with his spouse. The man held nothing but admiration and respect in his eyes for the person on the other end of the call.

He'd only realized how little he'd been listening when you huffed in exhaustion, heavy palms pressing into sleep-ridden optics.

"Alright, alright, I'm done ranting for tonight." You'd mumbled, lips twitching into a shy smile. You were never shy with him, what with the way your first meeting ended with the both of you in his bed. And yet you sat in your room, picking at the skin of your cuticles and tried your darndest to evade those brown eyes like a child being scolded by an adult. You had just unloaded about something that didn't even pertain to the guy, never mind your relationship with him.

He probably doesn't even care. Why did I text him, of all people?

"For tonight?" Dark brows shot up in amusement, a smirk slashing his lips. "So I should expect another call tomorrow?"

"N-no! That's not what I meant, Minho."

He watched on as you fidgeted with the charging cable that had been connected to your phone, still avoiding his gaze. You had been frazzled, but Minho's teasing had twisted the frayed wires that made up your nerves and grounded you a bit; he could tell. Finally, your gaze slipped from the oh-so-fascinating charging cable and back to him. Somewhere in Minho's foggy mind, letters subconsciously swirled into syllables - and syllables into words - until a full phrase was crafted. Sitting there in a ribcage that fluttered with butterflies. Longing eyes stared at one another through a screen, two people separated by a few city blocks. The phrase weaved through glass and pixels - every molecule that inevitably made up a sentence slithered up vocal chords only to get snuffed out in the last second once you spoke up.

"Thank you."

Minho's ears had twitched at those words, the genuine whole-heartedness in your tone. It had just about bowled him over. He recovered, though; back to his playful and teasing self. A simple jerk of the shoulder.

"It's no problem."

The connection had gone dead for a moment, your smile frozen in a fraction of time even as your voice rolled through the speaker again.

"I'm being genuine, you know." The connection returns and Minho remembers to breathe. "All teasing aside, I don't normally rant about my frustrations to my hookups..."

"Well, I'm happy to help you release your frustrations in more ways than one."

"Aaand I'm hanging up!"

He had to chuckle at the memory, even as the demons on his shoulders cackle like jesters. Something shifted that night. Minho didn't know exactly what that shift meant for his relationship with you, but he felt it in every interaction from that moment on. He still feels it now as the blue light of his phone glares back at him. His thumb scrolls aimlessly through his social feed, posts and photos flying by in a blink.

It's not the distraction he was hoping for. The search bar at the top of the screen beckons him; just one tap of the finger, and their profile is at the top of your history. It has the muscles in his hand twitching.

With a few swipes, all background apps are closed and the phone is put to sleep. He shoves the device away with a heaving sigh. Things were going... good?

Weren't they?

This was what he had wanted, right?

It was a fling. No strings to complicate it. Just a way to pass time. To not be alone.

Shaky hands press into distressed denim, nails tearing the fibers apart as he wracks his brain. He digs deeper and deeper, excavating the mountainous terrain of thoughts and memories that he's had over the past year with you. Evidence that one could hold against him if he denied his feelings. Feelings were dangerous.

We weren't lovers. We were just two strangers wanting to fill spare time in our lives.

If the worst lies can torch the soul, Minho was a living effigy; burning alive with each lie he tells himself, affirmations to rewire the way he thinks about you. It's the homecoming to Hell and he'll be lucky to walk away from such torment. Demons get off on torment, after all.

You never thought you'd get attached, did you?

His shoulders set, muscles beneath the skin knotted with tension. The ringing swallows his hearing again. Soonie can't calm the death rattle this time, as much as he tries to.

His excavating turns impulsive and desperate; the metaphorical rocks, mud, and clay displaced from the caverns ceilings, only to crush him under its weight. The earth shifts as he attempts his escape, but he's only digging himself a deeper grave. He's fucking helpless. And yet, through the haze, he spots the ray of light that promises comfort and release.

A tear tracks down his cheek as he reaches for the discarded phone once more. Deft fingers navigate back to the homepage of his socials. One tap of the search bar. Another tap on the first profile in his search history.

And there you were to save him, digging through the mass of soil like a trained canine successfully sniffing out the soul trapped under the rubble.

Your profile was a mix of your favored things and selfies. Minho had found himself checking your posts when he was bored, unbeknownst to you since neither of you followed one another. He found your posts to be interesting at first. Didn't take long for periodic profile peeks to turn into subconscious ones.

You had him before his mind could even attempt to intervene with what his heart wanted.

Truth's pain can never be outrun, but Minho was stubborn enough to try. He'd run himself into the ground instead, assisted in sparking the flames that engulfed your relationship. Fractions of the argument he'd started echo in his head. Words he could never take back.

"What, you thought just because we spent more time together these past few months that I'm suddenly obsessed with you? That all this bonding and bearing souls is gonna end in some fucking fairytale ending for the both of us?"

Your eyes widened, the sudden change in his demeanor made your head spin. The two of you had gone out to the movies tonight, even spent some time at a nearby arcade afterward. Everything was going so well, until it wasn't...

You didn't expect your teasing joke about having a "date night" to so catastrophically backfire.

"Where's all this coming from, Minho?"

For the first time since you met, you swore the person talking was an imposter. The words that spilled from his lips seemed to flow so easily for him. You hated it. Minho's gaze darkened, shoulders wound tight in a way that sent up a flag of caution in your mind. It had you so confused that you didn't even realize the snake coiled in the grass.

"You knew what you were getting into." His voice is unnervingly low, fists clenched so tight you swear they crack under the pressure. "This was nothing more than a fling. It's not my fault that you can't control your feelings."

Your gaze hardened. The air between you had shifted; it's charged. Tense. He's standing so close to you and yet a concrete wall separates the two of you for miles. Your eyes find his and you can't recover. Those same eyes that had become a safe haven for you - warm and teasing and always inviting - were now pools of stagnant muddy water. The viper grows restless the longer you stare, baring fangs in a show of agitation. You shake your head.

"Well fuck, tell me how you really feel. Please."

You hated that your voice cracked.

Minho hated that your voice cracked.

His chest strained with every word from you, ensnared by glassy eyes and the attempt at sarcasm. Still, the emotions flowed from you like a broken dam. It came to you so easily; expressing emotions. Minho loved that about you. And he hated that he loved it. The man sees red because of it.

"This was a mistake. I knew it from the moment we agreed to this."

"Then why bother wasting all this time on me, huh?" Your quick response only fuels his frustration, but you don't notice. "We've been at this for a whole year, and now you're trying to tell me this has been nothing but a-"

"You really think I enjoy spending all my time with someone so fucking needy?" The venom drips from the viper's fangs as it strikes, piercing the muscle deep within your chest. His words reverberate through the kitchen as he unloads his frustrations on you. A flash of orange and white zips past the kitchen entrance, searching for comfort deeper in the apartment. Somewhere deep in Minho's psyche, the rational little guy is attempting damage control, to no avail. The man is wound so tightly that words fly with no filter. Venom floods your veins.

You're nothing more than a fling.

Just like every other person before you.

You stand there, waiting for him to come down from his epic high. You didn't know where this had came from, considering everything seemed fine between you two since the beginning. Perhaps it was a lapse of judgement on your part. Even so, you didn't deserve the modest amount of insults and hurtful words that he threw at you.

Once he's done, you wait with baited breath and a maimed soul. The apartment is deathly silent aside from the rasped breathing and shuffling of pacing feet. Slender fingers run rampant through dark locks. When Minho turns around to face you, you finally speak; voice as calm and steady as you can muster.

"Are you done?"

You hadn't looked away in the past three minutes since he'd began tearing into you. You couldn't allow yourself to. You had yet to say anything in this exchange that you would regret. As much as he had hurt you, you couldn't allow yourself to hurt him back. Shots had been fired and you had taken every last bullet, felt it tear and burn the chasms of your soul like acid.

Minho breaks first. Dark optics shut, accompanied by a heaving sigh that shrivels his lungs. The guilt hits like a freight train, metal slamming into his chest repeatedly. But he doesn't get ample time to recover from it because you're moving in his peripheral. He watches you reach for your belongings on the kitchen counter - phone, bag, earbuds. You reach for the jacket you'd brought along. The night had been going so well.

It wasn't supposed to end like this...

You shrug the piece on with a heavy heart, the fleece cloaking you in a warmth you know you won't find in this place any longer. Minho stands there wracking his brain for the apology he's searching for. God, he fucking despises himself.

"You know, all I needed to hear was that this wasn't working for you anymore. I would've just left it as it is." Your voice was as steady as before. Soft. Even. A whisper through the trees. Minho swears you have more to say, a pause that has your throat visibly taught. If you did, you shoved it down, turning towards the door where your shoes sit in waiting. They slip on easily, bringing you one step closer to what Minho is dreading.

But how could he expect anything less after everything he'd said?

You turn to face him for the last time, searching voided optics for any semblance of guilt or regret from the past fifteen minutes of back and forth. But even as Minho's dealing with his internal battles, his expression on his face is one of stoicism. You couldn't read him.

Fingers grasp the door handle, subconsciously tightening around brass. You take in the apartment for the last time, tongue darting out to wet dry lips before you find his shadow again. The door opens with a subtle click and your brows crease. You can't bring yourself to say a goodbye. It's not what you want, after all. So you settle on the current thought that stabs at your skull.

"Mixed signals aren't as sexy as you might think." Your eyes pierce through him, a fire extinguished as you make your leave.

The door closes behind you with a thud. A gunshot, Minho believes. Because as much as you had tried not to hurt him, your attempts were futile.

His soul bleeds out on the kitchen floor.

How foolish one could be.

Minho knew there was some truth to his words that night. He knew he would probably break your heart at the end of it all, mostly on account of his shitty communication when he felt it was time to quit an arrangement. But then again, he'd never dealt with feelings like this before. Never had to fight with himself over whether or not the spike in his pulse was just a mish-mash of lust and desire, or an all-encompassing love that set his heart aflutter.

And then there you were.

With your domestic affections and your heart-shuttering behaviour. How the fuck could he think over anything when you were around? He may as well cease to exist.

Brown optics rove over the latest post on your profile, a photo that he had taken during one of your many "dates" together. A weekend trip that Minho had mentioned to you on a whim after you'd had a particularly shitty week of work. He had planned everything out, much to your surprise, but you couldn't have asked for a better weekend. You'd spent all night talking about anything and everything during the train ride, and while Minho wouldn't have chosen the night train in any other circumstance, he knew that he'd enjoy it with you. Even if you had fallen asleep, having you there would've been enough. You had arrived at Jeongdongjin station and made it to the coast just in time to experience the ocean waking in tandem with the sun. You hadn't noticed at the time, but Minho had pulled his phone out and captured the fleeting moment with the press of a button. He had never confessed that you had been the main focus of the photo.

The entirety of that weekend had chewed your relationship up and spit it out somewhere in between for Minho.

Somewhere in between nails tearing bed sheets and plush lips pressing against knuckles. Borrowing old T-shirts and sharing breakfast in bed. Somewhere in between two strangers giving in to their carnal desires and a thick band of silver sitting pretty in a velvet box, weighing heavy in one's front pocket. A much needed weekend getaway spelled more questions than answers that only brought on more conflicts between head and heart.

Only now, he realizes that's exactly what he needed.

The time on his phone reads 9:57 PM. Minho's fingers curl gently through Soonie's fur as he thinks over his options.

Drowning in his guilt sounds fitting, maybe a bit unhealthy. But he's fought his heart tooth-and-nail for the past few months. And it's gotten him a front row seat to his own self-destruction. Nowhere good, that's for certain!

Minho zeros in on the apartment door with a burning in his gut and a newfound determination. Feline eyes track the shape of his caretaker, hardwood creaking with each hurried step. The door shuts with a resounding thud.

The apartment is quiet until a quiet chirrup! leaves Soonie's throat. Tabby fur preens as pink toe beans reach forward in a big stretch, tail high and nails protracting with a lazy abandon. A moment passes - tail twitches, a yawn presenting little white fangs, a pink tongue wetting whiskers - before he hops off the sofa and makes the long journey to his human's bedroom. Green eyes survey the room upon entering.

A pile of dirty clothes lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, Minho's no doubt from the scent. Soonie knows his human hasn't been doing too well. He can sense the inner turmoil every morning when he wakes up, every evening when he comes home. And as much as he tries to comfort him, Soonie knows he can only bring so much relief.

Whiskers twitch at the familiar scent he's searching for, padding through the bedroom towards the bathroom. A hoodie lays in the doorway, hiding a few other garments beneath. Your clothes. Left behind like most of your belongings that night. He greets the fabric with short trills and soft sea glass; a sort of joyful hello, I've missed you to a long-lost friend. He analyzes the heap before making the executive decision of curling up in it.

Minutes pass, a city muted by glass barriers. Green eyes close. A deep sigh is released.

The feline settles in for a cat nap.

ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ

The city bustles with nightlife, even at 10:26 on a Wednesday. Your feet ache from the busy work day, having been pulled every which way since the start of your shift. Now, all you wished for was to get home and melt beneath a steaming showerhead.

Unfortunately, the promise of a nice shower doesn't hold off the severe storm in your mind that is Lee Minho.

You wish that four weeks of no contact would've been the cure for you, but alas. One year with someone doesn't exactly make it easy to erase them from your memory, fling or not. And right now, you'd give anything for some concoction that would wipe the slate clean. The distance didn't help. It only kept you locked inside your head, Minho's words - the good and the bad - glued to every last nerve ending of your brain.

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that this illusion that you had manifested was crazy. You and Minho weren't anything beyond two people messing around. You'd fucked around with other people before him without feelings getting involved. But as they say, you can't help who you fall for. The heart wants what it wants. So on and so forth.

You shake your head as you enter the apartment building, keys rattling in your grasp. One of two elevators is waiting patiently for you and you silently thank the elevator Gods for such hospitality. You press the floor to your apartment, stepping back until your back hits the wall. A sigh leaves you, free hand finding purchase at the bridge of your nose. Your fingers press into the corners of tired eyes, encouraging fuzzy stars behind the lids.

Fuck, what a fool you had been.

All this overthinking has you utterly exhausted.

Perhaps Minho was right; you should have hit the brakes, sealed the cap on your own feelings months ago. But then the what ifs invade your rational thoughts. What if this fling would've worked out? What if Minho had felt the same way for you? What if you had moved in after all, and all those lingering glances and teasing banter was more than a lustful attraction?

What if you keep up this stupid fantasy until the band-aids no longer hide the cracks?

The thought stings, like slicing your heart with a serrated blade.

The elevator halts it's journey, pulling you from your intrusive thoughts with a Ding! You make your exit and head down the main hall of the fourth floor. You really need some closure, or a distraction. Maybe both. Both sound good, you think. Or maybe some good ol' reverse psychology.

What's the point of moping about some guy who was only interested in a quick fuck, right?

God, now you're fucking grasping at straws.

All you're realizing is that, lately, your mental hurdles begin and end with Lee Minho. You give up for now, because at this point, there's no winning with your rose-colored glasses on. What you need is a warm shower and a comfort food to go along with a comfort show.

You turn the corner, steps faltering at the familiar shadow standing a few feet down the hall. Your heart strains against your chest.

"Minho."

Your voice knocks him from his stupor, glancing away from the numbers adorning your apartment door to lock eyes with you. He was here, like an answered prayer. Only you crossed that prayer off your list the moment you left him standing in the entrance of his apartment. Lucifer was laughing up at you from the deepest circle of Hell.

You knew that as much as you attempted to hide your feelings for him, Minho could read you like an open book. On the other hand, Minho was a novel of riddles, every sentence more cryptic than the last. You spent the last few months trying your hand at unscrambling the secrets behind his mannerisms, to no avail. The man rode the middle line at all times. And now, you needed to heal the papercuts that littered your heart.

You straighten at the sound of your name falling from his lips.

"I uh - you.. you're home late." His voice wavers, and suddenly the carpet beneath his feet is super interesting. Fingers anxiously rub the nape of his neck. Again, you stand before this man, confusion etching the lines of your forehead.

The Lee Minho you know doesn't act like this. Anxious and fidgeting like a nerved up school boy. He's quite the opposite; bold, confident, if a bit effervescent.

You remember you haven't answered him, blinking back to the present.

"Yeah... double shift."

He nods at your short response. You can't be bothered to mask the exhausted irritation in your tone, too focused on the fact that he's standing here at all. Minho's expression holds something akin to relief, and for a moment you find yourself hoping that it's because of you. You internally slap yourself on the wrist for it.

"You don't usually take doubles."

"Why are we doing this, Minho?" You ask, exasperation heavy in your tone. Keys clatter against bits and bobbles, attached to the keyring that's hooked securely around your index finger. "What are you doing here?"

You're already sick of this forced small talk. Sick of tip-toeing around feelings. You're not sure what Minho's intentions are after weeks of no contact, and frankly, you aren't sure you have the energy to care.

Minho tears his hand from the base of his neck, fingers lacing together at the crown of his skull. The frustration that radiates from him is obvious, even more so when his lips thin into a snarl. You're suddenly wondering if he's here to rip into you again. The fluorescent lights hum a monotonous tune as you stand there watching him shoot daggers at unseen phantoms down the hall. Realization hits then.

"You can't answer that because you don't even know, yourself."

You can't help the mocking chuckle that rumbles through your chest. He walks all this way only to stand here like a cornered feral cat. That's fucking rich!

Minho startles at your shoulder brushing his arm, wide eyes narrowing as you fumble for the key to your apartment. Dark optics burn steady on your back, but you do your best to ignore them. Nickel-plated brass shimmies into the lock, aligning the pins in the mechanism. You turn the key.

"I was right," His voice is permafrost, freezing the muscles and joints of your hand on the door knob like some kind of magic spell, "when I said this thing between us was a mistake."

"Go home, Minho-" Your fingers press against brass, slipping into the entrance with a steeping burn beneath your skin. Minho has lived this scene once. Didn't like the ending the first time. He's the only one who can change it.

Minho feels you pushing away, so he pulls back.

The door stops short of the frame. You look up to find sharp eyes already on you.

"I was right because I knew I would fuck this up with you."

Your body freezes in its place, hips stiff as his words bounce off ringing eardrums. Slim fingers clench against the woodgrain, broad shoulders taking up the sliver of space that's left. Your brows crease above narrowing optics, taking in the enigma of a man before you. There's a cautious plea swimming just beneath dark, tired irises.

Hear me out. Please.

A moment passes of just this; a staring contest between two souls, peeling back epidermis to discover the treasures hidden under it's surface. Down the hall, a door rattles it's frame, slammed shut by the careless and exhausted tenant who resides there. It's a draw, with the both of you blinking simultaneously. Maybe...

When you haven't made a move to close the door, you know your mind is already made up. You release the breath you've been holding. Minho's gaze softens, and although this conversation would be best discussed in private, he doesn't push you to let him in. You're still standoffish, as you should be after the shit he'd said weeks ago. But you pull the door open a bit, allowing him enough space to - at the very least - breech the threshold. He shifts forward, leaning a shoulder against the steel door frame.

"You have every right to slam this door in my face." He says, bores a hole in the damned thing as he speaks. "Hell, I'll even do it for you. I've spent so much time fighting with myself. Telling myself that every stolen glance and lingering touch was part of our arrangement. But then you started to treat this as more than just sex, and I-"

He falters, runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. Fuck, why was this so hard for him? You may have been right; He doesn't know exactly what he wants to say to you. But he's here, and you're willing to listen.

So he's gotta try his hand. Lay all his cards on the table.

"I'm not the guy who settles down. I don't take anyone on dates, or plan trips to de-stress. I spend more money on my cat in a year than anyone else, including myself. And yet, somehow, I've done all of that with you." Minho's eyes glow as he speaks, you swear you spot little embers aflame in gold - A sunrise you've yet to behold. His tone is low, but there's no doubt that he's bearing his heart with every word.

“That trip to Jeongdongjin… I barely remember it because I spent all my time caught up in you. It’s been that way since three months in when I teased you about moving in with me. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since then, double-knotted for good measure. And that scares the shit out of me! Because I’ve never felt this way with anybody. Like something’s missing when they’re not around.” He shakes his head, as if he's scolding himself. "I said a lot of shit that night that I'm not proud of. Let my own walls cave in on me, and I hurt you in the process. And no amount of sorry could make up for that, I know. But I don't think I could live with myself if I saw you around this city with someone else. And I know you deserve so much more than what I've offered. I don't know how to love someone like that."

The muscle in your chest goes into overdrive as he rambles. You weren't sure what you were expecting when you saw him standing there in the hallway, but you're certain it wasn't this. For a moment, silence fills the space between you two. He sucks down a deep breath, swallows his nerves away.

"But I want to try. With you."

Oh.

You zero in on the man, eyes deadlocked on one another as you process his words. Minho wants to try. And you want nothing more than to accept his proposal as truth. But every neuron in your brain is firing off red flag like a siren. As much as you've fallen, you've also shattered like a box of fine china sitting on the highest shelf - the height too great to salvage such a delicate parcel. The chemistry is - was there. Undeniably. But now?

Part of you wants to slam the door and forget that this conversation, this connection ever happened. The other part of you wants to give him everything. Pull him in and never let go.

Quit entertaining these fantasies!

You shake your head, eyes closing as shaky fingers press against dark lids, attempting to quell the pounding that's settled in your temples. You wish it'd quell your anxiety. Your ringing ears. You sigh, leaning into the width of the door as you let your hands fall to your sides. Minho's gaze is almost thoughtful when you look up; those hidden embers dulled, but still illuminated by the warm glow of the floor lamp in your apartment. He closes the distance by a half-step and your heart rattles in your chest.

But you don't back away.

You don't slam the door in his face.

And when his bold step doesn't get him in trouble, he brings a cautious hand up. It's unlike him to be so slow like his, hovering over you as if you're a wild animal that's in need of rehabilitation and about to bolt. But you're still here, by some miracle, and you allow him into your space. Because in the moments where Minho's emotions seem to break the barrier of cool rationality he's built for himself, you wonder just how deep his feelings for you really run.

He's gonna break your heart into a million little pieces again. Could you really handle that?

The thoughts tumble until he makes contact, drawing you out of your mind and back into the moment. Warmth bleeds into warmth as his fingers press into the skin behind your ear, calloused thumb skating over the expanse of your cheek bone. You wonder what it'd be like to forget such a tender touch. Your hands find Minho's wrists, sliding lower to grip strong forearms as you rest your forehead on the center of his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat is steady and soothing - a lullaby for your tired mind.

There's no mistaking the intimacy in these actions, no longer an exchange of rough leather and torn linen, but of pressed lavender and well-worn journals. It's comfortable. Feels like a safe haven. It drowns out every single worry in your head. Even so...

"I need time..." Your voice is a whisper, laced with an exhaustion that dominates your being.

"Alright."

"I can't just fall back into your arms because you say you want this now. That's not how this works."

You feel his voice rumble in your head; sweet like honey, as intoxicating as wine.

"We can start over."

He pulls away from you, lifting your head up to look you in the eyes.

"Take things slow."

He nods.

"Take things slow... see where this goes."

"But if you ever chew me out like that again, I'm gone."

"Shit, baby, I'll buy you the one way ticket out of Seoul." He says it so seriously, you can't help but laugh. The sound ushers forth galaxies in raw citrine.

You allow yourself to slip into a state of warmth and comfort, your body leaning subconsciously as you bump your forehead with his. Minho's hand slips from your cheek, his fingers splaying at the back of your neck to pull you in until your lips meet. A duet of profound sighs tame rabid nerves. It's slow and delicate, technicolour - Everything you don't expect from him, yet everything you need from him. He takes up your space like he belongs there.

Maybe he does.

You peel back with a soft smile etching your face. When you press yourself further against his chest, he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, fingers running the span of your back in soothing motions. If this is what taking things slow feels like, then it might be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

"It's getting late." He states, catching the time on the wall clock a little ways from the door - 11:03 PM -and you hum, acknowledging the fact even as you stifle a yawn into his jacket. "I should go."

You crane your neck to catch his gaze.

"Stay for tonight?"

You take in the look of shock on his face because, obviously, he doesn't expect you to ask. But he's already here, basking in your beauty and joy and all the things he's missed while he's been distant. It's written all over his face. And if you're honest, the close proximity and your exhaustion are both catching up to you.

Before you can explain yourself further, Minho's hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together and pulling you into the apartment. The door finally shuts.

Minho doesn't quite know how he'll do it, but as long as he's got this chance, he'll gladly spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#stray kids #skz #lee know #stray kids x reader #skz x you #lee minho x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz lee know #lee know imagines #skz minho #gn reader #x gender neutral reader #quokkawritings🌻

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lunaekalenda · 1 year

Text

sweet version - chocolates for satoru (part one)

You were sure that Satoru's locker would be full of chocolates, presents and love letters. You knew it was stupid to leave some for them yourself but, still, you're baking some in the middle of the night, a glass of coffee half empty resting near your phone on the table. You rap rhythmically on the counter with your fingernails, waiting patiently for the chocolate to melt on the microwave. The card, decorated with a simple kitty drawing and a heart, looks at your from near the bag you're gonna use to give the chocolates to him. Every second on the microwave makes you think. Are you really doing this for Satoru? The one that has half of the college students behind? Do you really think he will care about some more chocolates on Valentine's Day?

You're about to drop the chocolates but the cute mold you got for this stops you. Kitty chocolates. It was too cute to leave it at the store and, plus, that's kinda how you started to like Satoru, during that cold winter day, when a fluffy white kitty looked at you from inside his coat. When his eyes met your fascinated ones, he just smiled and took your hand, slowly resting it on the kitty's head, letting you pat him. "It was too cold for him to be outside. He doesn't seem to have a home, so he has now." That exact moment, when you took your eyes up and they collided with Satoru's blue ones, and he smiled so softly to you, with your hand still near his chest and the cat between your bodies, purring softly at your touch.

And, almost a year later of seeing him on the corridors, sharing classes and feeling your heartbeat race with every tiny interaction you had, now you're baking him chocolates. Pretty hilarious. Probably he won't even look twice at them. But, what do you lose?

After hours of mixing chocolate, sweet fillers and exasperating over bad-explained tutorials, your kitty chocolates are ready and on the fridge. With a last sigh, you close the door and go to sleep upstairs. You need to rest. Tomorrow will be a hard day.

His first chocolates were on his locker time before he arrived to school. There were also notes on his desk. Even on his chair. Satoru has definitely something (something more than his looks and his charm) that attracted everyone to him. It was so early and everything was so full of chocolates. Heart shaped ones, expensive ones, notes with cute calligraphy and even gifts could be seen on Satoru's place.

The kitty chocolates seemed to laugh at you when you looked at them, and the poorly-decorated card you were so proud of yesterday gives you a look back. Taking them on your hands, you search the closest exit to the gardens. Once outside, you feel how the fresh air takes the anxiety knot of your chest away. Sighing, you sit on a bench, in front of the pond. Taking your eyes to the chocolates, you look again at your creation. They really do look tasty.

You hear steps before a long sigh comes from your left. Satoru plays with a bag on his hands, before sitting by your side. It's maybe this your opportunity? Or are those his favorite chocolates between all the pile he has been collecting today. He takes a quick look to your hands.

"Valentine's present?" he asks. You stay quiet and silent, before sighing long. You nod once, twice, before speaking.

"Yours?" he nods again. You both sit on the bench, bodies close, but far at the same time. His long digits keep playing with the sweets inside the bag.

"Isn't it ironic?" he murmurs. "I've never took the first train to college." his whispers are audible when he sits a little closer. "I've never baked before." he gives another twist to the bag on his hands. "And I've never wanted to be here first than anyone." He releases a long sigh. "But, still, I couldn't be the first one." With a sweet smile, he stands up, letting the bag of chocolates fall in your hands. The card attached to it is written in big red colors, and your name is displayed on it.

It wasn't a gift for Satoru.

It was his gift for you.

Standing up quickly and reacting as soon as possible, without letting the cute smile leave your mouth, you run towards him, stopping Satoru near the entrance of the building. He mistook your sweets with a gift from someone. Standing in front of him, and keeping your eyes on his, you put the chocolates on his hand. His pale cheeks blush softly when he sees the "For Satoru" on the card. His eyes travel to the chocolates, and he can't help but smile when he sees the kitty shape. The moment reminds you to when you fell in love with him: close, with something making you both smile between your bodies.

"Is it Tami?" he whispers. "You baked chocolate Tamis... for me?" he seems incredibly grateful and moved. You nod under his attentive gaze. "Why?"

Taking all the air you could into your lungs, you leave your mind blank to avoid making any mistake, since you want your confession to be heard clear.

"Because I like you, Satoru."

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojou satoru x you

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sgt-morgan · 2 years

Text

Guessing Game 🦯

Summary: You and Matt have a little inside joke, turns out you’re hella right

Warnings: AFAB and female identifying reader, Mentions of g!ns, probably blasphemy, Matt’s dangerously beautiful ass. None really, v fluffy.

A/N: This is for all you girlies still waiting for Matt to show his face in She-Hulk. I’ll fill your thirst void. We are gonna get there 2gether I swear.

Pt.2 Robin Bites Back.

Pt.3 The Test

DD Masterlist

“Jesus Christ Matt!” You exclaim, dropping crumbs all over the court documents you had been diligently going over for the past forty five minutes. When your boss (technically) and the man of your dreams walked in with the biggest bruise you’d ever seen, you honestly forgot they were there.

“Blasphemy, really? Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” he chuckled as you rushed over to check him over for more injuries, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart from the nickname.

“If Jesus could see you, he’d take his own name in vain.” Matt huffed out a laugh at that, as you gently pressed a finger to the bruise. He hissed in pain, and you hissed back in sympathy. “Sorry, What happened?”

“I got in a really gnarly bar fight.” Matt pursed his lips and flexed his-surprisingly-muscular arm. You rolled your eyes and smacked his bicep, He gave an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ And rubbed his arm with a frown. Or so you thought, in reality, there was actually a pretty nasty knife wound there from the same asshole who got his face. He got his injuries fending off a mugging just outside Josie’s.

“Haha Murdock, no way some drunk asshole is gonna punch a blind guy, nobody is that stupid.” Matt could tell you were rolling your eyes, and he smirked.

“What, don’t think I could win a fight? Is it cause I’m blind?” He grinned wolfishly and you flopped back down in your desk chair.

“No Mathew, I’ve seen you move, I bet you take after your dad. Got some sort of illegal fight ring I should know about?” You brushed the crumbs from your papers and started to work again.

“Ah, yeah you caught me sweetheart. Got a fight ring stashed in the old Fogwell’s building. It’s like poetic Justice.” He laughs, sitting opposite you and pulling his own work from his brief case. You laugh and shake your head. God, he loved that sound.

“Yeah, alright wise guy, when are you gonna tell me the truth huh? I’ll bet you’re that man in the black mask, ah what’s his name… OH! Daredevil!” You snapped your fingers and chuckled again, not noticing Matt’s whole body go rigid in panic. He listens to your heart beat for any sighs you weren’t joking, but only found it’s normal steady pace.

“Yeah, I’m secretly a ninja for sure.” He chuckled stiffly, trying to play it off. Luckily, you were already wrapped up in your work, and didn’t even notice the slight flop sweat that ghosted over his brow.

“Alright DD, chop chop. Gotta make sure your day job still pays the bills.” You mumbled, and how right you were.

Matt kept coming to work with bruises, and you kept making jokes about them. He knew you made them because you worried, and if he could joke about it, you figured he was fine. He loved that about you, you had the ability to bring levity to any situation. He was grateful for it. What he was not grateful for, was how close those jokes sometimes hit to the truth.

“Woah! What happened this time DD? Catch that mugger?”

“Whoa there Devilman! You and Spider-Man catch a cat burglar?”

“Jeez man without fear, you’d think with skills like that they would have made you an avenger already.”

Matt laughed at every single one, but that Spider-Man one was just uncanny. Sure, it was a guy robbing a bodega, but it was close enough. You kept up the running gag, and it was honestly surprising Foggy and Karen had never heard you. One day though, you almost caught on to how right you were because his dumb friends were no good with subtlety.

You, Foggy, and Karen all happened to be in the break room one morning, when Matt stumbled in after a rough night. “Hello Daredevil, you give somebody the horns last night?” You said it with such serious nonchalance, that Karen gasped and Foggy spit his coffee across the room. Matt smacked a hand to his forehead and just pictured the cartoonish shock on his friends faces, conjuring memories of Looney Tunes and Scooby-Doo. You turned to look, and Matt made silencing motions behind your back to a wide eyed Foggy and Karen, who were gaping in horror at your joke. “Jeez guys! It was just a joke, right Matty?” You turned just as Matt stoped his wild gestures and he laughed, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“Yeah guys, what. You really think I’m Daredevil or something?” He laughed awkwardly, and Foggy and Karen caught on.

“Oh! Haha! No! Of course not!” Foggy started chuckling awkwardly, and Karen joined him.

“Yeah! Good one!” Karen giggled almost manically, but you didn’t notice, too busy obliviously cleaning up Foggy’s spit take. It was moments like these that Matt was glad that you were a bit of a social ditz.

When the shock wore off, Karen and Foggy found your little inside joke to be hysterical. They joined in on your little jokes as well, cracking off some really good ones, much to your delight.

“Jeez buddy,” you started one morning. “Have a rough evening being Justice?”

Foggy cackled and did a growly Batman voice. “I am Justice, I am vengeance, IM BATMAN!” You laughed and he grinned. Making you laugh was quickly becoming a competition in the office, and by god was he determined to win.

Karen was not to be beat either, she was getting in some real zingers herself.

“Good lord Mathew! Tell the criminals of the Kitchen to stop damaging the goods!” You grimaced at the cut on his cheek.

“You think my face is the goods?” He grinned waggling his eyebrows to an empty corner and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not the criminals that need to take a break,” Karen scoffed, “It’s all that pent up Catholic guilt.”

You cackle and Karen grinned. You however, not to be beat in this battle of wits, got the last laugh. “You know Karen? I think you’re right! I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t piss holy water.” Matt looked like a wet cat, but Foggy and Karen had tears in their eyes.

Then of course there was the Christmas Sweater incident. “What’s that?” You asked, watching Matt stuff a red piece of clothing back into a brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” Matt tilted his head with a frown, like he always did when he was curious about something. You did what you always did when Matt did this and kissed his up turned cheek and patted it twice. “My sweater for the holiday party.”

“A sweater devil boy? for the holiday party at Josie’s?” You nodded with satisfaction. “The one we planned with Karen and Foggy not three weeks ago?”

“The very same,” Matt nodded, “Yes. We’re also playing Secret Santa. I’ve already got a gift for my pick.” He grinned.

“Good boy!” you grinned and Matt preened, “I’ve got mine as well. Now all we have to do is turn up in one piece, think you can manage Devilman?”

“Only for you.” Matt grinned and he could feel the heat of the blush rising in your cheeks, hear the way your heart rate stuttered at his flirting.

“Cheeky,” you chuckled, and set down the paperwork you copied over to Braille for him with two pats to his right hand. Your little substitute for a wink. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have to find some mistletoe.”

The fabled holiday party came, and Matt did indeed manage to get to Josie’s without a scrape. He could hear you and the other’s whispering in your booth and grinned. He got to your table and you gasped.

“Mathew Murdock, where did you find such ghastly reindeer ears!?” You cackled.

“Peter got them for me, I asked him to pick up my secret Santa gift and he brought these along with him.” He shrugged with his roguish lopsided grin that made your insides turn to jello.

“Well they’re awful, I must have a pair.” You laughed, scooting to make more room for your friend, but first he folded up his cane, and pulled off his jacket revealing his great secret. “MATHEW MEREDITH MURDOCK!” You exclaimed with uncontrollable mirth, Foggy laughed at your presumed and nonsensical middle name. “What is that!?” Pulled over his signature too-tight button up, was a red sweater with holiday trimmings that read ‘IM NOT DAREDEVIL’ in bold print. He smiled in victory as he heard the laughter from his table of friends. Could practically taste your tears of joy, heard the wheezing, and the way you all struggled to catch your breath.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pee myself.” You chortled, clinging to his arm and wiping your tears. Foggy was staring at the thing in shock, and Karen was trying (and failing) to hold back her giggles. He had beaten you all at your own game. “Mathew Murdock, I could kiss you.”

“Please do!” Matt laughed, finally plopping into the empty seat beside you. You smacked his arm and he winked.

“Oh god, let’s start drinking. I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even exchanged gifts.” You sighed with a laugh.

You all laughed, and drank, and sang Holiday tunes until midnight. You also exchanged your gifts. Mostly joke things. Matt bought Karen a ‘half cup’ mug, that was like a sawed off mug with a flat back. “So you can cut back on the caffeine!” He had chuckled. Karen bought Foggy a pack of un-clickable pens, and a rock’n’roll Santa tie. “There, now I won’t strangle you when you play with the pens in your office, no noise!” Foggy bought you a pet rock for your desk, that had little tiny devil horns and google eyes, “you needed a friend,” he grinned, “and what better friend than your very own deskdevil?” You chuckled as well, pulling out the last gift of the night and passed it to Matt, a devil shaped re-freezeable ice pack. “So you can ice your face!” Matt laughed heartily and thanked you, chuckling as you helped him run his hands over the cartoonish horns, and described the color.

When the evening came to a close, Matt left around an hour before you all did, claiming he had court documents he needed to sign and return to a client by tomorrow. Foggy and Karen nodded, and you went with it because you didn’t know the man’s work load, and frankly you were burgeoning on too drunk to care. You had another round of shots, and then the rest of you left. You parted ways with a very inebriated Karen and Foggy at the corner, and headed back to your apartment (also very inebriated). About halfway to your apartment, you got a very uneasy feeling, as if someone was following you. You knew you should have called Matt to come get you.

You kept steady down the alley way, hoping that by subtly walking faster, you’d get back into the streetlights quicker so whoever it was, if there even was someone, would let you go without a fuss. What you didn’t realize, was that when you’re as drunk as you are, subtly speeding up announced itself as a sprint. Then you felt hands jerk you back suddenly, one over your mouth and one jammed something that felt suspiciously like a gun into your back.

“Gimmie the bag and nobody gets hurt.” A voice slurs from behind you. You raise your hands and drop the bag, congratulating yourself mentally for putting your wallet in your front pocket with your phone earlier. You hope that if he takes the bag and you run fast enough, he won’t notice. Thank god it’s just one du-

“Now empty your pockets!” Well, shit. That’s no good. You should have known that shitty drunk assholes traveled in packs. That way, if shit head numero uno forgets, shithead two will inevitably pick up the slack, that’s street slime 101. “You hear me bitch? Pockets!” Shithead number two reaches for your front pocket when-

THWACK!

Oh Merry FUCKING Christmas to you, a vigilante, now shithead one is gonna be jumpy and you’re gonna bleed out in an alleyway from an overzealous trigger finger. God has a sick sense of humor after all, you bet it’s Daredevil, that would REALLY prove God to be a comedian.

“I know you don’t have a gun, let the girl go.” A blur of motion and then in all his glory, the Daredevil. (Because of fucking course.)

“H-how do you know?” Shit bag squirms and grasps you tighter. You roll your eyes, this is gonna take all night, and all you wanna do is drink another beer and imagine Matt’s ass in the new suit you helped him buy, you’re over it. You strike while he’s distracted. “I could have a g-OOF!” You stomp on sleezebag’s foot and head but him in the nose. Yikes, that shit hurt, how do these super dorks do it. Once you were released, you ran behind Daredevil and let him finish knocking the guy out. From behind though, you noticed something very strange. When he finally turned to you, you voiced your assumption.

“You got a familiar ass.” You slurred, scrunching your brow. Daredevil let out a bewildered chuckle.

“Oh? And what might a familiar ass look like?” Matt shook his head, picking your bag up from the sidewalk with a breathy chuckle. You’re drunk, surely you won’t figure it out.

“Peachy, round, hot, very uhhh-“ he nodded and put your bag back on your shoulder, cocking his head to the side with a grin. Just like- “LAWYERLY! OH MY GOD! M-“ he clapped a hand over your mouth shushing you, you squealed and pointed and flailed around.

“Sh! Yes! Baby, you called it! You were right!” He shushed frantically pulling you into the darkened alleyway again. He was stunned, you really managed to figure it out. You recognized him… by his ass. He’s never gonna let you live this down, at least, if you live through this. You locked his palm and he let go of you with a disgusted sound.

When he finally released your mouth you whisper yelled. “Oh my god!? I was right!? Holy shit! You’re! And then I’m- and god! I don’t know where your hands have been DD ew! Gross!” You made spitting noises and blew raspberries, and then went to start shouting again, he frantically shushed you long enough to get you to listen.

“Yes! You’re very clever! Let’s get you home yeah?” He nodded slowly, steering you in the direction of your apartment. He got you there in relative silence, keeping you occupied by jumping from building to building following you. You giggled when he would perch on the rooftops, laughing about him being a ‘poser’ or as ‘blind as a bat’, leading you to sing a drunken rendition of Meatloaf’s bat out of hell much to his amusement and frustration. He had honestly never been more endeared to you, you were taking this whole vigilante thing like a champ, he wondered faintly if it was the booze, but now was not the time. It was slow going, but you made it. He climbed through the window you opened once you got in, and flipped on your couch. To his shock, you plopped into his lap. “Hey there sweet pea!” He laughed, curling his arms around you. Your drunken stupor made you affectionate, he would file that away for later.

“Wow Matty! You’re a hero!” You crow, pulling his mask from his head with a flourish and plopping it on your coffee table. “You got horns and everything! We gotta talk! I know you’re really blind, cause I switched all your socks with My Little Pony socks that one time and you didn’t see,” Matt spluttered at this, but you shushed him with your fingers before he could get more details. “Also, who would go through all the trouble of learning Braille if they were lying. Psh- I wouldn’t for sure! So you gotta have like super smell, or touch, or hearing, or something! Oh Jeez! Super smell! I gotta smell like Josie’s! And that smells real bad! I’m sorry!” You tried to get up and almost fell, so Matt pulled you back onto his lap.

“I do have all those things,” he chuckled, pushing your hair from your face, brown eyes vacantly moving around the room. “But you always smell good! The gross is there, the trash cans outside your building, Josie’s, the homeless robber, but overtop of all that is your skin, and your perfume, and coffee.” He scrunched his nose adorably and you coo and stroke it with a finger.

“Oh Matty, that’s so nice!” You sniffle, “you’re really good at flipping on stuff, are you a ninja?” She gasps, whispering conspiratorially.

“No,” he whispers back, “but my dad was a boxer, and I trained with a guy called stick.” He answered all of the questions you came up with and held you in his lap, he wished that he could live in this moment forever. He wished that he could hold you like this all the time; breathing in your shampoo and talking with you about his life. It was a balm to his aching heart, and a real relief to no longer be lying to the woman he suspected more and more would be his forever.

“Wow Matty, you’re so cool.” You sighed, burrowing into his suit and coiling around him tightly. “I was right all along! You really are Daredevil! Foggy and Karen knew! They suck ass! You should have told me you big meanie, I coulda been helping! I could be your sidekick!” He nodded and chuckled as you start to nod off, muttering about Batman and Robin.

“Yeah, yeah honey, you can be my Robin.” He grinned, kissing your hair.

“Well, you told me a secret, now I gotta tell you one!” You jolted awake suddenly with urgency, and leaned into his ear. “I think you’re really hot, and I wanna kiss you all the time.” You then leaned back and put your finger over your lips tapping the back of his hand twice. “Ok! That’s all! Night Matty!”

Matt sat frozen in shock as you stood, he could feel the currents shifting, hear the soft clothing rustle against your skin as you got undressed and flopped onto your bed. Within seconds you were snoring, and Matt was beaming. He couldn’t believe it, you liked him after all, he’d see how you felt sober. The Daredevil thing is fun for now, but when you’re sober he didn’t know how true that would be.

In the morning, you awoke with a groan, your head aches and you felt like you’d been hit by a bus. Then you remembered you’r really hit boss is a vigilante, and you suddenly felt very awake. You turned your head to check the time, and saw that Matt had left you a glass of water, some Tylenol, and had recorded a voicemail on your phone, his name blinking on your screen over and over. You took the medicine and listened to it with nervous jitters, remembering the nights revelations.

“Hey sweet stuff, I left you some meds, figured you’d be pretty worn out. When you wake up, shoot me a text and we can go get some food, and I’ll fill you in on all the other stuff. If you need anything, let me know. Since you wanna kiss me all the time, you can pay me with those, I hear Daredevil loves being paid in affection. Talk to you soon, bye.”

You stood there again, shocked but grinning. Matt liked you, and now you knew it, but most importantly, you screeched into your empty apartment…

“I WAS RIGHT!”

The sequel

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