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#i should just stay away from pastels
peachesofteal · 1 month
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Simple Math / Part Nine
Simple Math masterlist
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Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence. Medical chart from a SANE EXAM. Simon's family history, trauma. Brief sexual content. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Heavy emotions. Scars. Reader in pain. Hurt/comfort. Kate is a dog with a bone. Penny is cute. POV switches. Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise.
You can’t breathe.
The air is too thin, too tight, and you stand, silent, in the foyer of the home that you’ve been invited to.
A clock ticks on the wall. You count each second, waiting. 
You should leave. You should run. 
Simon’s footsteps echo above your head, already up the stairs with your first bag and work backpack.
He said to make yourself at home, but you can’t move.
The foyer is the foyer of a family. There is a hall tree with little shoes scattered beneath it, a tiny, pink backpack hanging on the hook. Too many wellies to count, all in pastel colors, matching a small yellow and green rain jacket that’s folded on the stairs. There’s a black hoodie, a black jacket, and a green on the coat rack, hung haphazardly with a toss. Men’s sizes, and you notice two pairs of trainers next to one pair of black boots, and two crayons hide, peeking out from under the bench, one blue, one purple, so worn down they’re almost half gone.
A home. A family. 
“Hey, so up-“ You flinch. The jolt has you stumbling, one misstep over another, and he tenses, prepared to steady you, careful hand outstretched, but not encroaching.
“Sorry.” You shouldn’t be here. 
“No, I’m sorry. I know better.” You blink, and the silence is heavy, weighted down like bricks at the bottom of a river. 
He’s still wearing the mask. 
 “Can I… give you a tour?”
“S-sure.”
You lose your breath again in the kitchen.
Simon turns away to the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher as you stare at the fridge and its collage with a tight chest. It’s covered; photos, invitations, magnets, notes, finger painted masterpieces. You step closer, studying, noticing the way they all fit together, mix matched perfectly, and even in the pictures, the three of them glow effortlessly, too sweet and smiling, happy. Together. A family. A perfect unit.
Your nose tingles, and you blink back the tears that fight forward, wiping away the two that escape and trickle down your cheek. You don’t know why it overwhelms you, why it fills you with grief.
What is it like, to be loved like that? To have a family, like this? 
Get it together. You’re a guest in their house.
It’s too much, and you chastise yourself for getting so emotional over nothing, over something stupid.
You need to be alone. 
Dry sandpaper scrubs the back of your throat when you swallow. “Simon?” He turns, concerned, glancing at the fridge and then back to you, drying his hands on a towel.  
“What is it?”
“Can I… I’m sorry. I’m… tired.” You try to explain your needs but it’s awkward on your mouth, uncomfortable. His expression creases with sympathy.
“Of course, c’mon. I’ll show you.”
“Alright, one more step.”
“’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, bun. You’re alright.” In the back of your mind, you’re registering Simon’s warmth, the wilted lean that has you tipped into him, slow steps on the stairs, one by one as you fight to stay upright. He’s warm, and pillowy… the kind of comfort you could sink into, disappear inside for a while. It sounds so… nice.
But your shoulder is throbbing. The pain combined with the emotions swirling about in your heart has you on the verge of tears, top teeth dug into your lip, and your molars grind against one other with each step.
“It’s just at the end of the hall.”
You shouldn’t be doing this. Even now, after agreeing, getting in the car, getting yourself here… the desire to bolt runs hot under your skin, buzzing inside your skull, an insistent need.
You’re in their house. Where they live. With their baby. 
What if he comes back? What if he hurts them? 
“Hey.” Simon says your name slowly, ducking down to get your attention. Fuck.
“Sorry, I’m just… exhausted.”
“I’m sure. It’s right here.” He opens the door to a room, flicking on a light switch. The walls are a sage green, a gentle hue that matches the bedspread, framed photos organized into a gallery wall, pictures of smiles and laughter, a tiny Penny in Simon’s naked arms, a candid shot of Johnny in full military regalia, the three of them together somewhere, hiking, with Pen snuggled in a papoose on Johnny’s chest. The bed is the centerpiece, a massive king size piled with pillows, and it looks so inviting, so soft that you want to collapse into it right here and now.
“Wow.” It’s the best you can do, considering the screeching agony vibrating in your shoulder. You try to breathe through it, but the pain only shortens your draw.
“Yeah, it’s our old bed. Very comfortable.” He puts your other duffel down by the dresser, and you try not to dwell on the idea of it once being theirs, where they slept, where they’ve loved one another, held each other, their child, their- “It’s got its own bathroom, just through here.” He’s on the other side of the room, turning on a light that is far too bright, and you squint, jerking away with a gasp. Are you getting a migraine too? “Shit, sorry.” The room spins. You stumble towards the bed, limbs heavy, head full of cement, wooziness blurring your immediate sight. You’re disjointed, a mess of pain and disorientation, and you cover your eyes with a palm.
“Sorry, I think… I think I’m getting a headache. My shoulder-“ it slips out before you can stop yourself, and even with your eyes closed, you know Simon is staring at you, picking you apart with his eyes.
“Your shoulder?” You’re on a runaway train now. It has no brakes. No destination. It just barrels down the tracks, unable to stop for rational thought or pleas of mercy. It has no plan, and it does not heed you. You’re helpless. Hopeless. Lost. Reaching out for a light in the dark, a rope, a life vest, and a sob breaks through to the surface.
“It really hurts.”
“It hurts?” His voice cuts, tone worried. “Which one?” You use your good side to point, shakily.
“I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.” You try to tell him, try to explain that you don’t mean to cry, or be emotional. You don’t mean to be making a fuss. You’re not supposed to be a problem.
A warm hand lays atop your thigh, thumb rubbing into your scrub pants.
“Sweetheart, you’re in pain. You don’t have to apologize for crying.” Your vision blurs, thick with tears, and fingers gently probe along your shoulder cuff. When you flinch, he swears. “Shhh, alright. Easy.” He’s gentling a spooked horse, carefully feeling along where you ache as you cry through it, unable to stop. “I’m going to go get some ice. We can… wrap it up, if you think that will help?”
“Ye-yeah, okay.” His steps fade, and you try to get your top off, sliding the arm that doesn’t hurt underneath your turtleneck, which is confined by the rigidity of your scrub top.
When you try the other one, the pain is so sharp, a cry bursts from your lips, and Simon sprints up the stairs. How did it get so much worse between the beginning of your shift and now? 
“What happened?”
“I can’t… I can’t get my shirts off.” You uselessly tug at the hem, eyes half open, letting it fall from your fingers, stuck in a loop, frantic movements matching the increasing pace of your lungs.
“Can I help?” His face is lined in concentration, and you spot an icepack on the bed now, with a sling, and a wrap. They’re prepared. Must come home with a fair number of injuries. “Bun, are you with me?” You sniffle and nod. What choice do you have? What choice do you ever have? The pain is too much. It’s all too much, and it boils over until you need to get the shirts off, not caring that it will expose you, or show Simon the very details you’re always trying to hide. You’re too far lost now, too far gone.
If you’re here, in their home, shouldn't you let them see? Shouldn't you let them know? 
The truth is terrifying, the reality of the trust you have in them. You know Simon won’t hurt you, instinctively. You feel safe here, in their home, their old bed, and when he looks at you, you show him, just for a second, the fractured mirror that is your reflection. You show him the pain and the rage and the fear, you give him everything. You shove the girl in the mirror forward, you force her into the sun and you hold her face to the light, trying not to sob as she screams at you in protest.
Just for a second.
“Okay.” He nods, and then cups your cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You nod with tears that sting, and then you slowly pull away, slipping back into yourself, hiding the girl in the mirror away, making more promises to her that you’re not sure you’re going to keep.
“We’re going to put this one,” He slowly, carefully lifts the arm with the bad shoulder until it’s resting on his own, “right here. That alright?” A whimper builds, but you give him another nod, breathing through the anguish. There are a million little needles in your shoulder, all stabbing you over and over, ripping and gnawing at the cartilage, or the bone, or the muscle… you can’t be sure. “I’m going to bring your scrub top up now. Is this okay?” his fingers peel it from the turtleneck, and when he gets to your head, you incline your neck, more tears rushing forth.
“Yeah.” You whisper, a tired, pained moan, falling from your lips without permission.
“I know it hurts; I know. Almost there, try to breathe.” He soothes you, and the top slides towards him along your arm. He pulls it free, throwing it on the floor somewhere, his hands returning to your thighs.
“Sorry.” It’s automatic, ingrained. A reaction to pain, to fear, to the idea of being a burden, something that haunts you, every day. He ignores it.
“Ready for the next?” The turtleneck comes less easy, but the two of you are in sync like dance partners. The pain shoots up your arm when you move your neck again, and Simon wipes a few tears from your cheek, carefully leaning you back into the pillows and pulling the comforter down.
There’s a sharp intake of breath, the raw edge of surprise, horror, you’re sure, and you close your eyes. You can't look at him, when you know what he sees. You know what you look like. A roadmap of foolishness. Of weakness. You know the scars are plainly on display, still raised, still ugly. Like you.
He says nothing, only sits at your side, bed dipping with his weight. “I’m going to take your shoes off too, okay?” He narrates and asks for permission with each touch, pulling your sneakers free, satisfying thunk of each one hitting the floor, and then moves on to sliding the ice pack underneath you, wrapping it firmly but not too tight, ensuring it stays in place. He’s tender and slow, thoughtful, your eyes fighting to stay closed, brain and body starting to drift off into uncomfortable sleep. “Not yet, sweetheart.” There’s a rattle, two pills being deposited into your hand.
“What are these?"
“Paracetamol.” He turns the bottle, label out, word coming into focus enough to be verified, and you swallow them down with the glass of water in his outstretched hand.
“Thank you.” The croak stays lodged in your throat, and his eyes crinkle, the sign of a smile.
“Get some rest.” It’s comfort he gives you, leaning forward, pressing mask covered lips to your forehead. Comfort that doesn’t elicit a flinch or a sense of wariness, and you bask in the shine of the sun on your skin, holding tight to it, slipping into a dreamless sleep.
“Banky.” Pen demands, hands outstretched.
“No binky, it’s lunch time. Lunch.” Simon makes the sign for lunch, L shaped pointer finger and thumb, circling the corner of his mouth. He does it a few times, accompanied with the word again and again until Penny huffs and leans back, eyes wide. “You try. You try, lunch.”
“No!” She shrieks, and he shushes her, scattering some banana puffs across her tray.
“Shhh Pen. Bun is sleeping, remember?”
“Bunny seep?” She gives him the sign for sleep, or her sign at least, a palm dragging down her face followed by very dramatic closing lids. “Seep?”
“Yes, sleeping.” Simon makes the sign to acknowledge she was correct. “Good job.” He gives her a thumbs up, and she smiles, sweetness melting away some of the tense worry that's taken up in his heart.
“Puff?” She holds one out to him, but he shakes his head, pointing at her mouth.
“For you. Eat them, eat your puffs.” He signs along with the words, and she mimics him, food in hand, eyes lighting up when she finally makes it in her mouth.
He glances towards the stairs. You’re in the guest room, far enough away that Penny’s noise shouldn’t wake you, but still he tries to keep her preoccupied, distracted from making a fuss.
He wants you to get as much sleep as possible, this morning’s discovery of your shoulder unsettled him more than he’s frankly comfortable with, and the image of your swollen, battered face and neck leers and taunts. 
She’s safe now. She’s here. 
“Dada.” Pen calls, and he smiles, leaning forward to brush his lips across his baby’s soft skin, wispy curls tickling his nose. 
“Love you, baby girl.” He signs it too, and she beams.
“Luh.” It’s supposed to be love, and though the word is a struggle, the sentiment is the same. He doesn’t care that she’s not quite got it yet, he’ll take every word, every syllable he can get. These moments, each moment with his child, Johnny’s child, theirs… is a gift, one he never thought he’d have until Johnny. A privilege.
His phone vibrates with a text message.  
>Simon
>Give me a ring when you get a chance. On the black cell.  
“Thought you were on vacation?” Kate sighs, click clack of keys echoing in the background.
“I am, but if I’m too idle I start to go crazy. The wife likes it when I have a project.” Simon pauses, cocking his head. Penny’s feet kick in the highchair, baby spoon banging against the plastic tray.
“Hang on, Kate.” He drags a kitchen chair over in front of her so he can sit, pinning the phone between his shoulder and chin to twist the lid off the applesauce pouch. “Shhh, here you go." Penny gurgles with a grin at the taste of the fruit, and he smiles back at her. "So, what’s the new project then?”
“The nurse.” Simon’s eyes dart to the floor above his head.
“It’s not a good time.”
“I can talk, you can listen.” She brushes him off, sipping something with ice and then continuing. “I found it hard to believe that a civilian would be able to scrub their footprint like this, so I did a little digging. The more digging I did, the worse my fixation became.” Like a dog with a bone.Simon holds his breath. “I just needed a key, and with those photos you provided, well, things just started unraveling.”
“Kate.” He growls because he can’t manage anything else. He’s trying to keep himself still, heart pounding in his chest. Penny coos, like she notices the shift in her dad’s demeanor, and he immediately attends her, thumbing at a smear of applesauce on her cheek.
“I found a SANE exam from a few years ago. Small hospital in southern Colorado, right over the border from Texas. Patient’s name is Jane Doe, but the photos are almost an exact match.” His stomach lurches, dark clouds shadowing his vision, world splitting into blood and rage. Violence.
He didn’t want to be right.
He wanted to it to be anything, anything but this.
Who? 
Is it the same person that choked you? Beat you? Tore your shoulder damn near out of its socket? 
His gaze drifts to Penny.
They'll need to loop Price in, immediately. 
“Can you send it to me?”
“It’s already in your email.” She speeds past, eagerly. “There’s more. I used the photo to run facial recognition on archives in neighboring states and got a host of hits from Texas. You’ll have to visually confirm, but if I’m right, I’ve got positive ID on your girl.”
“How?”
“School. She graduated high school a year before the rest of her class, ended up with a full scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. Went on to get a bioscience degree and graduated from Rice early.” Pride flutters beneath his ribs, honeyed and heavy. Their smart girl. “She ends up at a different school for pre-med but drops out before the first year ends. Not sure what happened but she started an accelerated nursing program, and breezed through it. You should see her transcripts. I don’t think this girl has gotten less than an A+ on anything since kindergarten.”
“Send them over.”
“Already done. After that, she starts work at a local hospital, and then… nothing. Her paper trail stops. Her job disappears. She’s a ghost except for the sealed court records, and now the Jane Doe medical chart, but that didn’t happen until later. The aliases she’s used over the past few years, they’re in the wind. It’s really quite impressive. She’s either got a connection somewhere, or she’s CIA.” Kate is animated, talking quickly, and he interrupts her to get to the question that’s weighing on him, brushing off the latter immediately. You’re not a honeypot. He spots those a mile away.
“You know her name, then. Her birth name?”
“I do.” She’s silent for a moment, and then she gives it softly. First, middle and last.
He closes his eyes. He tries to imagine you as a girl, on the playground, playing tags with other kids, all of them shouting your name, or as a teenager, in a fight with a parent, one of them yelling your name. He pictures you as a uni student, with your friends, laughing and having a good time somewhere, one of them hollering your name over too loud music. You’ve had a whole life with that name, a whole story. You were a person with that name, and he tries to imagine the way it would sound on your tongue, on Johnny’s, even his.
You’re a ghost now, will you let them bring you into the light?
Will you let them help you reclaim it; the way Johnny helped him reclaim his own?
Kate subtly coughs on the other end of the line.
“Thanks, Kate.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll keep digging. Check your email when you get a chance.”
“Will do.”
“Oh! And the hotel, I sent that paperwork to your email as well.” He thanks her, again, tells her to try to enjoy her time off and hangs up just as Penny starts to fidget, unhappy with being in the highchair for so long without attention.
“Alright, lamb. Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He pulls her free, showering kisses all over her cheeks and neck that make her giggle. “Can’t be wearin’ your applesauce and pajamas over to John and Lou’s, can you?”
Johnny is anxious. Simon can see it a mile away, even before he gets in the room, he notices how he is fidgets, unspent energy and too much time to dwell culminating in an unsettled state.
So, when he kisses him first thing, he makes it long and slow. He drags Johnny’s bottom lip between his teeth, carefully taking his time until he’s sure his partner is half hard beneath his hospital gown and blanket.
“Si.” Johnny groans, and he relents, pulling away to cradle his face between his hands, taking him in, every line, every fleck of gold in his blue eyes, soaking up the healing, healthy glow that glimmers in his skin.
His doctor says it won’t be long now, until he can come home, and Simon is counting the days.
To have everyone, under one roof, feels like a fever dream.
“Missed you.” Johnny noses into his neck, and Simon reciprocates with a kiss to his temple, his cheek.
“Missed ye too.” He pauses, squeezing his hand. “Pen?”
“Alright. Grumpy this morning. Think she wanted to see you.” She did, he knows it, but he tries not to pile it on. Johnny knows their daughter misses him, as much as he misses her. They’re two peas in a pod, best friends, halves to a whole. They’re both suffering. “Went with Lou and John fine. I’ll bring her in the morning.”
“Good.” He nods, tilting his chin for another kiss, and Simon gives it without hesitation, basking in the warmth and familiar feel  of his skin.
When he clears his throat, he pulls away with a sigh. “How is she?”
“In pain. Shoulder is nearly torn out of the socket, and her neck is in poor shape. I had to help get her into bed, she couldn’t get her shirt off. Emotionally she’s… still got the walls up, but she let them slip for a second last night, before she let me help her. And I caught her crying in front of the fridge. Think the photos of Pen got to her somehow.” His stomach twists, new, horrifying possibility dawning on him. Do you have a child somewhere? 
“Did she get any sleep?”
“She hadn’t come down when I left to take Penny, so I assume so.”
“Good. She needs it.” Simon agrees. After injury, after trauma, body and mind need so much more care. More rest, more nutrients, water, protein. More love.
“Kate called.” He bites the bullet, fingers flexing against his knee. “She found a loose end and tugged it.” Johnny straightens. He’s every bit the solider, even laid up in bed. Waxy, soft features turn razor sharp and focused, except instead of his practiced steadiness, he’s chomping at the bit.
“Tell me.”
Simon does. He tells him everything Kate said, almost verbatim. Johnny’s face changes from worried to enraged when he finally gets to the medical chart.
“No.” Johnny’s whisper is faint, thin, papyrus. Brittle and broken, almost washed away, and Simon doesn’t blame him. The chart is horrific for them, was horrific for him earlier, turned his stomach until he thought he’d be sick.
He’s killed. He’s tortured. But to be there when Johnny revealed the handprinted tender skin on your neck, to be there when you cried out in pain last night, when he saw the scars on your body, the cigarette burns that were so familiar, to look at these photos and know that you’ve been brutalized beyond belief, makes his vision run red and his heart ache.
There’s a ghost in these photos. A different girl, but the same, a glimpse of what he saw last night. Still their bunny, their girl. He can see her, through the broken blood vessels and compound forearm fracture. He can see her past the swollen cheekbone and broken nose, the fresh burns on your stomach and torso. The doctor’s notes indicate that you said you were mugged, and sexually assaulted, but refused to finish the SANE exam and took off.
He's not surprised. 
The first time he saw the burns on your naked skin, he swore he could his mother’s screams, and for the hundredth time today, Simon thinks of her. He wonders, if she ever went to a hospital, if she ever begged anyone to help her, or them. He wonders if someone saw what was happening, how she was slowly disappearing, sinking in on herself, and tried to help. He wonders if she felt as alone as you seem to. If she too, became a ghost.
He looks at these photos and cannot fight the pain, the memories.
“Oh, Si.” Johnny cups his cheek, thumb soothing softly across his skin, trying to wipe away the tears that fall. He can’t stop them, not now, and Johnny does not ask, only holds him through it, lets him cry into his hands, pain and suffering of a small, frightened boy coming out of his body in broken sobs.
He won’t fail you. Not like he did her.
After minutes turn long, he takes a deep breath, pressing his lips to Johnny’s palm, and utters a promise as cold as death. 
“We’ll kill them. Whoever it is.”
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agnesafterhours · 8 months
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lavender haze | lee know. smut.
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Your boyfriend is not prone to communicating his feelings through words, but luckily for him, you always know exactly what he needs. (1.9k words)
CONTENT: smut, boyfriend!lino, creampie, unprotected sex and cum eating. minors and empty blogs do not interact.
© all rights reserved. i do not allow reposting and/or translations of my work.
Contrary to popular belief, Minho sulks often. You do understand why people would believe that isn’t the case—your boyfriend’s dry jokes followed by a sarcastic smile being one of the reasons why you were drawn to him in the first place. When you first met him a couple years back, when he was still doing busking events with his dance crew alongside a common friend of yours, you’d watch in doe-eyed adoration as he’d flash his bunny teeth in a playful grin to his crewmates each time they got one move slightly wrong. What pissed them off the most is they could never get back at Minho—he never forgot any moves, never missed a beat. His justifiable confidence made him oh so irritating—you were attracted like moth to a flame to his character, his knife-sharp features matching his equally piercing sense of humour were fuel to the fire. 
But the thing about your boyfriend's sulking is that it is often unjustifiable. Of course he doesn't need a reason to want to be pampered by you, but it'd be nice if Minho admitted he also likes to be taken care of at least once in a while.  
“What did I do to deserve this torture?” The ever so intimidating choreographer mumbles from his spot on your bed, your pastel pink pillowcases being a little counterproductive to the assertive tone he's been trying to use on you. 
Minho can’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips at your scoff, “Torture? I'm just asking you to wait! These bedsheets got here like, two weeks ago!” You're on your feet, struggling to fold one of the new huge linens to store in your closet. “If they stay in these bags any longer they're gonna start smelling weird.” 
“You know that's not how it works, right?” 
“I don't care. You know you should be helping me, right?” You look back, a smirk of your own automatically taking place when your eyes find his. 
Despite the lopsided smile that seems to be permanently plastered on his face, Minho grunts as he drags his body out of the comforter and towards you, “You know you should wash these before putting them away, right?”  
And as soon as your eyebrows raise and he sees the very familiar smile on your lips as you push the sheet into his arms, your boyfriend realizes he fell right into your trap, “Have it your way, then!” 
The man watches as you jump in bed, getting comfortable on the spot he previously was—eyes filled with the similar overwhelming fondness they usually hold when Minho looks at you. “You’re annoying.” He takes off the rest of the sheeting from it’s flimsy plastic bags, making his way to the laundry room. “Don’t fall asleep!” He exclaims from the hallway. 
“I’m not making any promises!” 
“Don’t sleep! I wanna spend time with you!” Unfortunately, no amount of stubbornness can take away Minho's super power of having you giggling into your pillow. He wants to spend time with you. He's the love of your life and he wants to spend time with you.  
Those are the feelings you can't quite understand. You’ve been with Minho for so long—at least long enough you've been through the “honeymoon stage” everyone seems to fear the ending of. For you, it feels like this stage never seems to be over. You pray it never ends.  
So here you are, kicking your feet because your long term boyfriend said he wants to spend time with you. At least you know he's as obsessive as you are, if not slightly more. 
Minho's way of showering you with love was overwhelming. He isn't the type to communicate his feelings through words, instead, he'd do things like casually tell you about getting into a rather serious argument with his manager, trying to get the day off so he’d spend your birthday with you. Of course he would be busy, cooking your favourite meal as he casually narrates the dramatics him and his group went through trying to get his needs respected. He doesn't look you in the eye when he says he got emotional, the only reason why his manager gave in being Minho “never behaved like this before”. This is his way of saying you're his utmost priority, can't you tell? The redness of his ears and fidgety eyes are a big hint of the nervousness Minho prayed you wouldn't pick up on. Unfortunately for him, you know him like the back of your hand.  
You know that a quick glance your way means someone said something he found amusing in a way. If his hand fell to your lower back in social gatherings, it means Minho is a bit nervous and needs some grounding. If he's too silent, you know to sit beside him and wait until it all comes pouring out. With you, it always does. If he's vocalizing how tired he is, you know he'd enjoy talking for hours on end about anything that comes to his mind. Minho always needs you, he just has very specific patterns to show you exactly what he's currently craving from you. Fortunately for him, he's your favourite subject matter. He's the only thing you ever want to pay attention to—the sole owner of your entire focus.  
That's why you know exactly what he needs when he flops back on the bed, and after a few moments of silence, blurts out “I miss you. I missed you a lot this week." 
You crawl out of your nest and straddle your boyfriend's lap, dragging your comforter along and covering you both with it.  
You're both silent as you hold his cheeks, taking your time as you kiss them, then his forehead, and the mole on his nose—at least a couple times each. Minho's hand slides down your lower back when your lips find his, tongue slowly tasting his as you feel his heart beating tranquilly against the palm of your hand sliding up and down his chest. You feel his right hand gently cupping the back of your neck, holding you close against him as the other sneaked under your shirt, slowly caressing your bare back.  
Minho doesn't try to take control of the kiss like he usually does—neither do you. Your bodies seem to move in harmony, the glacial movements of his tongue making you sigh against his mouth every now and again, promptly resulting in a smirk of his. You loved kissing his smile. 
“Missed you so much, baby.” He repeated softly against your lips. Minho now had both hands under your shirt, his touch leaving goosebumps as he caressed up and down your sides.  
“Missed you too. Always miss you so much, Min.” Your breathing is a bit compromised now, hands moving on their own as you remove your own shirt.  
Minho quickly follows, his palms back on your hips as soon as his shirt is tossed to the side. “I know you do, pretty. I know.” 
His hands lay on your ass, groping as he whispers against your lips. “Spent the entire week thinking about fucking you. Gonna lay on your side for me, pretty? Hm? Gonna do it just how I like it?” 
Too much, too much, too much. You don't think you're really moaning anymore, but you're sure your mouth's been hanging open for a while. Minho’s hips are slow as he hits the deepest parts of you, holding your squirming body for a few seconds each time he bottoms out. The sweet, lazy drag of his cock inside you make your lust disable all of your senses. He felt heavy, thick, so deep inside you. Full. You felt so, so full.  
Somewhere in the haze you feel his palms making their way towards your chest, you process a bit of squirming as he squeezes them, massaging your breasts as he continued his torturously slow assault on your g-spot. 
Minho can feel every cell fighting against his urge to mount and pump into you as fast as he pleases, but he'd endure anything if it means he gets to hear your drawn out whines as he rocks his hips back and forth, your entire body shivering every time he pauses deep inside of you for a few moments.
He runs his hand through the goosebumps of your arms and back to your chest again. After feeling you up a bit more, your boyfriend takes your hand and drags it south as he presses on your lower stomach, making you feel him moving inside you. 
“You're feeling how good I fill you up, honey? Can you feel it?” His breathing is much more ragged now, Minho's body is visibly shuddering behind you as well. You squeeze around and him, bringing his hips to a stop. 
You look back, staring at his open mouth as you inhale each other's heavy breaths. As if snapped out of a trance, Minho kisses you roughly. He swallows each of your moans when his hips start swaying back and forth again, still as slow and rough as he was.  
His hand leaves yours as he reaches for your chin, spit dribbling down your lips. 
“So fucked out you're drooling for me. God, you're so good, baby. You take it so good.” 
“Holy shit, Minho! So close, so close, so close-” Your voice is no longer a whisper as it's pitch gets higher, your orgasm dangling in front of you in a fever dream. You feel him everywhere and it's almost too much, but certainly not enough. You're so overstimulated you don't know what to focus on to reach your high—both your senses and judgment so clouded you can't muster the brainpower to figure out what you need. 
Luckily for you, Minho knows you like the back of his hand. “I love you. Love you so much.” 
You can't tell how long it lasts, you're barely able to process Minho coming inside you. You feel the ghost of his hands holding your hips still as he whimpers in your ear—the sound alone making you shiver all over again. Your body shakes in his hold, limbs giving out after a prolonged orgasm you're not used to experiencing.  
“Love you too… Love you so much…” The words mindlessly escape your lips as your head slowly sways, fingers twirling the ends of your splayed out hair. 
Your eyes are closed as he lays you on your back, adjusting the pillow under your head as he chuckles. “Love you too, pretty. Hang in there just a second.” 
You feel his hands caressing your body as he handles you, a sixth sense making you chuckle when you realize he spread your legs but didn't start cleaning you up. 
His hands run down your thighs, you can hear the smirk on his voice. “What's up?” 
“Stop staring.” You say, humming with your eyes still closed. 
“Don't wanna.” You feel his fingers sliding through your core. “Mouth wide open for me, baby. Come on.” 
You sigh when you get a taste of his coated fingers, lips wrapping around as your tongue licks in between them. You open your eyes to find him hovering above you, eyes fix in your mouth. 
The look you give Minho makes him dizzy—the way you stare up at him with your big doe eyes in such adoration while sucking cum off his fingers almost made his heart burst. He can feel how each beat of it belongs to you, his heartbeat chained to a rhythm that followed your own.  
Chest to chest, Minho watches as your eyes sparkle, your hand softly stroking the back of his head. A smile forms on your lips when you pop his fingers out of your mouth as you breathily mutter against them. “You know I'm gonna marry you someday, right?” 
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omgthatdress · 11 months
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the major takeaway from last night is that Karl Lagerfeld was more of a personality than a designer and that Yves Saint Laurent was the clear winner of that rivalry.
For those who aren’t familiar, Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent were both fashion wunderkinds who emerged in the late 1950s, both appointed heads of major brands at the same time, and had very intense rivalry. Yves Saint Laurent took over Dior after the passing of Christian Dior, helped cement the brand as a major player in fashion, and then after a disastrous stint being drafted into the French army, built his own fashion brand that went down in history with its unique and diverse and always evolving looks.
Karl was always kind of behind Yves. He designed for a lot of major fashion brands, and managed to establish himself at the top of the game at Chloé, but he didn’t get his full on legendary status until he took over Chanel in 1983. This history of the Chanel brand was already pretty frought, with Coco Chanel modernizing and defining the fashion of the 1920s and 30s, but being forced to shut down during World War 2, during which she collaborated with the Nazis. Behind the Bastards did a pretty great two episodes on her. When the brand returned in the 60s, fashion had changed tremendously. Dior, Givenchy, Balenciaga, and Balmain had all taken over mid-century fashion, and now that aesthetic was being taken over by mod, the miniskirt, and the likes of Mary Quant, Pierre Cardin, and Paco Rabanne. So when Chanel came back it was largely seen as a stuffy old lady brand, which it remained until Karl took it over.
Now, this is where Karl actually did something really impressive that you honestly can’t take away from him: he took a fashion house in severe decline, one that had been in its flop era for literal decades, and he made it hip again, while still managing to stay true to the ethos that Coco Chanel had laid out.
Chanel is clean, minimalistic, and classy. It is easy to wear, effortless, and always extremely glamorous, which is what made it so iconic in the 20s and 30s. Given that the 50s and 60s were all about making a fucking effort, the thing that the brand managed to keep doing well was its suits. You know what kind of suits I’m talking about. Tweed jackets and midi skirts, neat tailoring, delicate pastel colors, pearls and camellias and chains. It’s not so much that it was edgy and exciting but it was expensive and it was *Chanel* and people wore it for the status symbol alone. That is what Karl took advantage of and managed to re-invent.
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That sort of aesthetic fit perfectly into the you-can-never-be-too-rich-or-too-skinny 80s, when wearing status symbol clothing was everything.
Then, in the 90s, he managed to keep things exciting by following exactly what was on-trend at the time and incorporating elements of street wear and hip-hop.
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However, after that, he kind of lost his edge and just rested on “it’s Chanel” rather than actually pushing the fashion envelope. By the time he died in 2019, he was a fucking dinosaur and fashion had long since moved past him. The thing that he was ultimately most well known for was his own very distinctive look and flamboyant personality.
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Before I ever started studying fashion, I knew who Karl was because I’d seen him so many times, and I’d seen parodies of him so many times. I knew *him* but I didn’t really know his work. And I think having an incredibly boring Met Gala dedicated to him reveals that: his actual artistic legacy is skinnier than the models he used to berate. Karl Lagerfeld built his brand on his diva personality, and that sort of personality and outlook just isn’t hip anymore. Fashion is always about moving forward, and Lagerfeld’s beliefs should remain fossilized in the past.
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jealousy’s a beautiful thing
masterlist
any ‘wednesday’ fic i do will be set at ‘nevermore university’ so the minimum age of any character will be 18
wednesday addams x reader
18+ : smut; fingering, thigh riding, knife kink, blood kink, choking, dom!wednesday, possessiveness, jealousy
inspired by this post
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Wednesday’s eyes always find you when you’re in the room, whether it seems as though she’s paying attention or not - she is. Though she’s not one to be so outward with her displays of affection, it’s a way for her to know you’re close, that you’re safe and maybe she feels a slight warming in her heart at the way you laugh or how you furrow your brows intently with your nose in a book as she writes. 
But this watchful nature can come with downsides and it’s securely in Wednesday’s grey realm of feelings to be jealous, though she’d not felt it often until you it wasn’t what she would call unpleasant. The annoyance that makes her clench her jaw when someone hugs you the way only she should be allowed to. Or when her sights burn into lingered touches to your arm and it gives her ample motivation in archery practice, imagining the arrow burying itself in the heart of those that angered her. 
So Enid being your closest friend doesn’t always bode well, Wednesday knows just how much that girl loves hugs and though you’re not quite as cuddly you’re not one to shy away from some physical affection from those you’re closest to. 
It doesn’t usually annoy her this much but seeing you being flirted with earlier in the day whilst the two of you shared coffee at The Weathervane - she’d got you hooked on quads over ice - just added to her daily distaste. Then Enid interrupted you. 
Though she might not admit it, Wednesday’s favourite part of the day is the time you spend together. You read and she busies herself at her typewriter, checking in with one another with notes on what you’re doing. The quiet comfort was her favourite, she was often alone in her love of the silence. 
But your hour of quiet was dampened with the sunshine that is Enid Sinclair, a bounce in her step and a grin on her face after what Wednesday could only imagine to be a nauseatingly cheery afternoon with her friends. Instead of lounging on her own bed she stepped over to you, flopping down onto Wednesday’s bed with her head landing on your shoulder. 
You let her stay there, listening to her excited retelling of her day while your girlfriend tried to continue with her writing, sparing glances over at you every few minutes. She loved the way you smiled along with Enid’s ramblings and how you laughed lightly every now and then. But the arm you’d draped behind Enid’s back and the colourfully painted nails that fiddled idly at a thread in your jumper were much less appreciated. 
It made it difficult for her to type, cracking her knuckles in aggravation with the gritting of her teeth at the sight of you casually stroking your fingers through her pastel pink hair. She wanted to be the only one to be that close to you, the only one to be held by you, so close that your perfume is all you can smell. 
She’d had enough of it for today, you were hers and if you’re going to touch anybody it’s going to be her. 
“Don’t you have plans with that dreadful boyfriend of yours?” She spoke, turning in her chair to face where you both lay. 
“Nope. Well maybe later, he’ll probably text me soon - or I could text him or-“
“Yes. Text him.” She nodded, following her with her eyes as she grabbed her phone giddily and grinned at the screen. “I will never warm to the sound of your giggling whilst you text. It makes me want to bury my head in cement.”
You huffed a laugh at her words which she reciprocated with that slight smirk you love so much. 
“Well, luckily for you two I’m leaving. I’ve got a movie date with my dreadful boyfriend.” 
“At least you're self aware.”
“See you later - don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!“ Enid shouted smilingly as she left with waves goodbye from the two of you. 
“If we can only do what she does, what’re we left with? Crochet and pop music?” You muttered much to Wednesday’s amusement. 
“Perhaps we could paint each other’s nails and practice jumping up and down in excitement.” She deadpanned before turning back to her desk with a pensive glint in her eye. 
“There’s something on your mind.” You voiced, so matter of factly she was taken aback at how well you truly know her. 
“I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”
“Tell me.”
“She touches you too much.”
“Oh, I see what this is about.” You smirked. “Wednesday Addams, my ray of sunshine girlfriend, is jealous.”
“I am not jealous. I just don’t appreciate wretched humans admiring what belongs to me right in front of my face. If I didn’t have self control that drip coffee drinking imbecile would have received a fork to the back of his hand.”
“You do enjoy stabbing.”
“I should be the only one you cuddle with like that - I hate that word please never make me say it again. Seeing you so close to anybody other than me makes me want to swim with piranha, you are mine cara mia.” She’d inched closer and closer towards you with her words until she was kneeling beside you on the bed with her dark eyes focused on yours. 
“That’s practically the definition of jealousy, babe.” You laughed while the back of her nail traced over your cheek and her knees planted themselves either side of your body. 
“Jealousy or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you are mine.” She returned with her lips ghosting yours and her palm cupping your cheek. 
Her kiss was firm and possessive, pent up annoyance from the day being let out with a nip of her teeth at your bottom lip. Her tongue licked into your mouth tasting faintly of black liquorice and her hand slid down to the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your throat in a way that only made you pull her closer. You grasped at the back of her zip up hoodie, pulling her hips into yours and her chest flush against you. 
Wednesday let you push the article of clothing away, letting it fall on the ground as your hand brushed over the skin of her bare arm. Her own hands pushed beneath your shirt, climbing upwards across your skin while the attack of her lips on yours never wavered, only stopping to rid you of the clothing. 
They returned to the line of your jaw, her breath warm against you, kissing a path to your neck where she sank her teeth into the flesh beneath your ear. She could feel the throbbing of your quickening pulse as she sucked a mark into your skin, soothing the sting with a soft lick of her tongue. 
“If you like being so touchy, I wonder how long you can go without touching me. Just how desperate are you?” She mused with her breath tickling the shell of your ear.
Her thumb swiped over your swollen lips as she looked down at you hungrily and somehow, in her mysterious fashion, she’d produced a shining silver knife, hand clasping the decorative handle. 
“I do find you rather captivating.” She breathed with the point of the blade tickling your cheek as she dragged it across your cheekbone and downwards to stroke across your jaw. “And silver looks so pretty with your pristine skin.”
You could only gawp up at her breathlessly with your mind hazy with the way she drank in the sight. And just as you went to lift your head to kiss her again she swiftly moved the knife with a disapproving shake of her head, flattening the blade against the thin skin of your throat, so dangerously close when you gulped. 
“Just how much do you want to kiss me, hm?” She asked you with the corner of her mouth twitching upwards, hovering her face mere centimetres above yours, just out of reach. “I can practically feel the thrum of your carotid artery.” She uttered and the way she grinned made it clear she knew it wouldn’t scare you, on the contrary, it filled you with an odd sense of macabre desire. 
You craned your head slightly with a sharp inhale of breath at the realisation of how close to the sharp metal you truly were. But she’s just so irresistible and her eyes just lured you in, plump lips pink from your kiss and her hair slightly messy from moments before. 
“I’d bleed for you if it meant I could have even one more taste.” You murmured, throwing out any care you once had in favour of lifting your head, failing to hold back the small moan at the back of your throat from the pleasurable pain as a drop of crimson red slid down to your collarbone from the cut of the knife. 
“Just when I think I couldn’t care for you more, you say something so morbidly poetic. Mi querida, made just for me.”
Her tongue poked out to slide through the blood and she hummed at the taste, pressing her lips to the wound with a suck that made your chest arch into hers and your hands tangle in her raven locks. 
“Shit, Wednesday.” You sighed at the feeling, shocked at how good it felt. 
When she pulled away her pupils were blown wide with lust and her lips were wet and coated in blood, a beautifully twisted sight that sent a rush through your body.  When she claimed your lips again you tasted the metallic flavour, her hands were strong on your waist and the scraping of her nails made you shiver until she palmed at your breasts through your bra. You’d never seen her quite so ravenous, so hungry for you that she opted for a slice of the knife through the fabric of your bra to pull it from your chest. 
Her fingertips pinched at your nipples roughly, the sensation made your hips lift into hers, grasping at her bare back beneath her shirt, pulling it over her head as soon as you could. You drank in the sight above you, beautifully pale skin clad in black underwear. 
Breathless kisses with smacks of lips was all that could be heard in the dorm room, heavy breaths and sporadic groans as it grew more heated with fumbling hands tugging at the waistband of her trousers. It was a flurry of movements as you both unburdened yourselves of the material, even less of a barrier between you and it felt so good to have skin against skin. 
You pressed kisses over her neck, down to her collarbone with your teeth grazing her skin as she sighed above you, dancing her hand down to nudge at the hem of your underwear before dipping down to stroke through your folds.
“If only I knew before just how riled up I could get you with a knife to your throat.” She whispered at the feeling of your soaked cunt on her fingers. She reveled in the way you moaned into the crook of her neck at the push of her digits into your pussy, curling inside you deliciously with a nudge at your sweet spot that made your hips buck upwards into her hand. 
Her thumb put pressure onto your aching clit, drawing circles over it with the twinge in your belly growing by the second and her svelte fingers wrapped around your neck dominantly. She squeezed away the breath in your throat and your eyes rolled back at the sensations washing over you, she watched your reactions intently, how your neck twitched with an inhale of breath beneath her thumb when she smeared the blood across your skin. 
And how your lips latched around her crimson coated thumb when it prodded at your mouth, licking clean the pad of her thumb with the iron taste on your tongue. Her cheeks held that flush of colour only you got to witness, a faint scattering of pinks from her arousal, from the feelings only you bring out of her. You’d not quite seen her like this though, staring down at you like she was starving - a predator at her prey. Her breath was shaky, a feral look in her eyes that didn’t go unappreciated by you.
It had sparked something in the both of you. Just the sight of you beneath her made her hips roll themselves over you on instinct, underwear covered cunt pushing over your thigh desperately just to try and relieve the ache between her legs. She could feel you clenching around her fingers, basking in the melody of your whines with small grunts of her own tumbling past her lips. 
She replaced the thumb in your mouth with her lips, so hasty and sloppy, neither of you able to catch your breath. 
You could feel how her actions were stuttering with how near she was to her release and you were too. You pushed your hand between you, moving the material of her underwear to the side to push your fingers into her soaked pussy, instantly swiping your thumb over her throbbing clit. It didn’t take much for the both of you to topple over into orgasm with moans into one another’s mouths, tongues swirling together in messy kisses as you rode through. 
The next few moments were quiet, waiting to be able to breathe again in a daze from what just happened. Perhaps bringing out the envy in Wednesday should be a regular occurrence?
“If you’re thinking about making me jealous again, don’t.” She rasped with her face hovering above yours and her body propped up on her forearms. 
“Oh, so you were jealous?” You grinned, brushing strands of hair behind her ear. 
“No, I wasn’t.”
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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months
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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 1
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-Imagine that after John Wick wins his freedom from the High Table, he [re]retires to your sleepy little mountain town, where you work in a coffee shop...
-Your quaint little town tucked in the mountains is the kind of place people go to get away from it all, and you can’t help but wonder what Mr. Wick is running from. He is an unfairly handsome man. You nearly make a huge fucking fool of yourself, the first time he approaches your counter, so taken that you could hardly speak. For all his good looks there is something compellingly melancholy about him. You see it in his soulful dark eyes, and the set of his shoulders. You can see this man carries a weight beyond what anyone of his years should bear.   
-He becomes a regular at your little coffee shop, and you get over your shyness with him. He’s soft spoken, sometimes a little grumpy, but usually impeccably courteous compared to some of your unbearably entitled clientele visiting from the Big City for the ski resort or the hiking. He never orders anything fancy, just black coffee, and he likes to stay for an hour or so in the cozy cabin atmosphere of your shop. He favors a corner table tucked in the back by the river-stone fireplace, usually reading an old book, though sometimes you think he just sits, his attention fixed beyond the page he’s on, eyes not really seeing the room.
-You manage not to stare too hard, when you see him without gloves for the first time, and realize he is missing his left ring finger. You are not repulsed. You just wonder what happened to him.
-In time you notice he barely touches his unadorned coffee, and you wonder if he even likes it. You don't know where you get the cheek to tease this so-serious man. “Do you just order it like that to match your clothes?” You’ve never seen him in anything but head to toe black.
At first he looks at you as though you have grown a second head. Then he answers, completely dead pan, “Maybe it matches my soul.” 
You snort with laugher, not believing him.
Maybe you should have, looking back.
“Sure, Mr. Wick.”
The next day you surprise him with a cup of something you concocted with him in mind. It's nothing too scathingly original. Just a dark chocolate mocha, with a splash of hazelnut, and just a bit of steamed cream. “Try this,” you say, setting it on his table totally unsolicited. You feel validated, for he's barely touched his black coffee again. 
“What is it?” he asks, peering at it suspiciously. 
“I just think you might need something a little sweet.” 
He looks up at you through his long hair, and you don't know why, but a little chill runs down your spine. It's not fear, exactly. It's like walking in the woods, and stumbling on a powerful animal on the trail. Something that maybe could eat you, if it chose, but instead just disappears back into the dark trees.
You do not pester him anymore that day, even if it is the highlight of your shift sometimes. But when you go to clean up his dishes you do notice the cup you gave him is empty. 
He doesn’t come in for almost a week after that, and you fear that maybe you were too pushy and pissed him off with your boldness. 
Maybe it's a little pathetic, the way your heart leaps when he walks through the door again.
“I’ll have…whatever that thing was you made the other day.”
You try not to gloat, but your lips twist in a smile.
-It becomes your little mission in life to make this man smile, and if just the corner of his mouth ticks up at some point during his visit you feel as though you’ve accomplished a good thing.
Maybe it’s totally a cliché, but you’re an artist, and when you’re not making coffee, or cleaning up coffee, you draw bright designs on the chalkboard around the menu with your pastels. You make elaborate landscapes and art nouveau maidens inspired by Mucha. People in town seem to enjoy your weekly designs, which is nice, even if it’s not entirely the recognition you crave. Four years of art school just to doodle on the chalkboard, you can hear your father say. He’s not wrong, but it still stings.
One day, you sketch Mr. Wick reading in the corner on the back of a discarded receipt. He is…such a lovely man. When you walk past you slip it on the table for him. You don’t let yourself watch his reaction. If you had, you would have seen his expression soften, the stony façade cracking even if just for a moment.
Is this how you see him? Not some broken down old man, the way he absolutely feels after his war with the High Table, but something…not unpleasant to look at.
You don’t know it at the time, but this is the action that sets off an avalanche. You wake a sleeping beast in him, and a dark obsession begins to kindle.
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cup1dt3a · 1 year
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❤︎~I’ll always have my Eyes on You~❤︎
Summary: Your friend had gone to a mysteriously abandoned studio and came out with a small puppet. They gave you the odd doll from fear of its creepy eyes. Including the fact you like to collect things like this. So how strange would it be if suddenly the puppet started to almost form a life of its own. Even its soul purpose being dedicated to your love. What odd adventurers life brings you? Care to find out what happens? |Yandere! Wally Darling x Collector! Reader |
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You tilted your head as you analyzed the dirty puppet. They were covered head to toe in dust, dirt, and even a few webs making you cringe at the thought of spiders in him.
Your friend had a bad habit of sticking their nose in places they shouldn’t. For instance why this little guy is here. They had explored an old abandoned studio of a puppet show for children. They would constantly complain about the smell, weird black substance, and loud creaks. As they video chat with you constantly telling them to get out if they’re so disturbed. Every time rolling their eyes until theirs had landed on the puppet now in your possession.
You knew you had to clean them asap before you could get of whiff of whatever stench they had. Like the other puppets in your collection they all had been left to rot from their former glory. As you looked at the tags they all said instead of Made in China said Made in 1970. Which was weird considering nothing ever had dates on them. But you just shrugged it off as you tried to gently scrub off the bugs from them. As you got to the now pastel yellow puppet you had finally moved onto their eyes. As you analyzed their eyes you couldn’t help but admire how their eyes stayed the cleanest. Still purely snow while as if they were just sewed on.
“ Wow you have impressive eyes.” You praised.
“ How is your hair still so soft?” You questioned running your fingers through the silky blue locks of the doll.
As you admired the doll one last time before going off to bed since it was 3am you turned not noticing the puppets widening smile as you left the room to your own.
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You soon woke up from the horrid sun rays shining into your eyes. You groaned turning over away from the burning rays. As you did you felt an odd softness now on your side. Half asleep you pulled the soft thing closer to you not noticing the blue hair now under your chin.
A while later finally waking up to the ringing of your alarm set you got up still holding the soft object close to you. As you stretched finally waking up you looked down to see what you were cuddling not remembering bringing anything soft to your bed last night. You stated down at the now clean puppet as they smiled up at you with their large eyes peering into you.
How did the get in here? You must have been supper tired last night if you brought them into your bed without noticing. You sighed putting the doll upon a nearby desk in your room not paying any mind to them as you continued on with your day.
It was like that for a whole week every time you went to bed the puppet was right beside you. You had been working on fixing them up so you just brushed it off as you subconsciously doing it out of pure tiredness until one day.
Going towards the kitchen to get a snack you couldn’t help but notice a strange black substance now on your floor. It was as thick as carmel sit even felt like it too when you dipped a finger in it. It looked like someone had microwaved some black licorice or poored ink all over your floors. What a wonderful thing to wake up to. How did this even get here? You then noticed a mother odd thing. A letter. A red envelope right over it with many hearts all over it.
Inside the letter said “ You’re so sweet I like you ❤︎“
Rolling your eyes you put the letter down assuming it was another one of your friends pranks. Because Your chaotic friend who you should have never given a key to your apartment to now comes by every so often. To prank or just hang out with you. The letter was sweet sure just why the mess. They usually come by and clean it up, but the substance looked like it might stain the floor. You have no idea how long it’s been there but you had to clean it up before it ruined the floors. Sighing you went to get the cleaning supplies upset with this little prank of your friends. This was a bit too far.
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“ Hey! So how’s the new guy to your collection doing?” They asked in a video call as you where fixing up their clothes.
“Fine.” You grumbled still upset with having to clean up your floors.
“ Why are you upset? You ok did something happen?” They questioned concerned why you sounded so distraught upon speaking to them.
“ Well, just next time for one of your “ Stalker” pranks please don’t ever use that weird black substance again. It almost ruined my floors!” You barked as you finished tying the bright red ribbon around the puppets neck.
“ Wha…____ I haven’t been to your house all day.” They told you in a concerning tone.
“ Haha! Very funny but I’m serious please don’t do that. I don’t mean to snap but-.” Just before you finished your sentence they said.
“ No! I’m serious I’m all the way in Texas right now! I left at midnight! Are you sure you’re alone!?” They exploded with worry as you felt your heart drop.
“ Yes! I think? I don’t know! Can I go to your place then I’m scared now. I’ll have the police investigate!” You panicked now weary of your surroundings.
“ Yes get out of there immediately! And call the police right now bye please be safe!” They said before hanging up.
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“ I’m not sure. I just woke up and this black carmel like substance was all over my floors including this note.” You told the officer outside of your apartment while they questioned you.
“ Ok, thank you for your cooperation.” They said before bidding you a goodbye.
You still with the doll at your side sighed as you drove to your friends house with the spare key they lent you for emergencies such as this. You’re now scared shitless of actuality having a stalker. You took the small puppet with you for some comfort. Even if they were a bit creepy you didn’t care nothing at the moment was creeper than some person you don’t even know stalking you, trashing your floors, and leaving an odd letter on your counter tops. Plus the doll was quite soft and almost oddly warm. You just didn’t want to think of any red flags and try to calm down at your friends house.
All you had now was just the comfort of your phone, the puppet, and food. You had gone to the grocery store not wanting to steal any food from your friend since they’re already letting you borrow their house. They had called again to check up on you which you appreciated, but for the moment you were fine you just needed to relax. Then the worst thought came to your mind. What if they took the rest of your puppet collection luring you away from your home so they could steal your millions of dollars and tears collection. You spent days to hours of fixing up to look brand new. No way in hell!
“ Wow not even the threat of possibly dying or that creepy puppet scares you except a creep stealing your puppet collection can scare you wow!” They said sarcastically.
“ Shut up! I just spend…”
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You were just so beautiful and kind. The more you talked the more his heart beat against his chest in a raging matter. As if it wanted to escape and latch onto you forever and never let go. He wished you would just stop talking to your friend and begin to praise him once again. You had done so the other day for hours now all you’re concerned about is the mess house left and his note. He thought it would be sweet and house sometimes can’t help but make a little mess every so often… But it hurts so much that his sweet letter didn’t make your heart flutter like his whenever your around.
Oh how he loathed those who talked to you so freely while he bearly has control over his own. As he angrily thought of ways to make you finally notice him you finally ended the call with that annoying friend of yours. Always doing such harsh pranks is not so nice.
“ Well then what are we gonna do now?” You asked him. HIM!
“ No idea either huh?” You sweetly chuckled with your angelic voice.
He had had many very many ideas of what you both could do. But instead you chose to cuddle him with his head tucked under your chin once again. Not that he’s complaining he can now softly snuggle up against or nuzzle you without you noticing. Last time he moved everyone was so scared of him. He hoped you wouldn’t do the same but there’s always a chance so why ruin a perfectly good moment?
God you even smelled like a dream.
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You begin trying to do some research on the newly acquired puppet of yours. Soon enough after typing “ Yellow puppet with blue hair made in the 70’s” you we’re finally shown some history about Wally.
“ Huh Wally what an interesting name little guy.” You said rembering about the movie Wally.
The more you read the more you found out about them. There was even a whole website about the little guy. This was very interesting. After an hour of researching Wally you finally yawned needing to get some rest. You put the doll onto a nearby night stand in the guest room before going to sleep.
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So… what to do now. You weren’t petting his head or praising him anymore. It brought a pout to his plush face. He wanted more but alas a person such as you needs to maintain their beauty sleep God he was already missing you just running your fingers through his hair. It made him shiver with glee at the thought.
Bouncing off the nightstand you left him on he had crawled upon the side of the bed to admire you for the rest of the night. Even cupping your cheek as gently as you handled him the first time you met. It was like love at first sight. What a wonderful feeling! All he needed was you and you alone. Whatever you did made him fill to the brim with blissful joy. Ignorant to all your flaws, things you didn’t like about yourself, even the things others may see as odd he didn’t. No he saw them as your perfections everything has been nothing but pure bliss as you slept soundly asleep with him by your side singing soft lullabies to help you sleep.
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It was 3:42 am and your throat was dry from not drinking anything so you headed towards the kitchen. Not noticing the now gone Wally from your bedside. As you made your way you had overheard someone humming.
You held your breath while grabbing the nearest weapon. It was a decorative stick from a glass vase how wonderful. But in your defense it was dark in the hallway and it seemed somewhat sharp so why not. As you crept quietly down the stairs to catch whatever creep is in your friends house. You gasp at what you saw.
It was Wally. Wally was in the kitchen not moving at all but with the light on you could see he was later out on the floor with a knife in hand. While a half of the apple remained on the countertop including a little ladder.
Ok this is funny but something doesn’t add up. Wally isn’t alive no he’s just a puppet. As you turned around pretending to go back to bed you had never in your life turned back around. And instead of Wally being laid on the floor there he stood knife in hand. You thought it would be one of those situations you were just being dumb but no Wally is and was alive.
“Well Hello Y-“ you cut him off as he walked over to you slapping him with the breakable stick.
“ Ow! Well that wasn’t very nice.” He said still with a smile.
“ You…You…Heh no this is just a dream yes a dream.” You chuckled trying to calm yourself down.
As soon as you said that the once fallen over puppet now pinched you with his soft baby hand.
“ Ow!” You hissed at how that actually hurt.
“What? Usually people ask someone pinch me?” He said with a tilt to his head.
“ So you put that note and that stuff that almost ruined my floors?” You glared as he nodded.
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You don’t know where or how to begin with the puppet. Is he going to kill you? Is he just some possessed doll. And…why is the TV saying you’re missing? So many questions and so few answers.
The TV had just glitched onto the news and right on it it said “ ____ ___ missing for a week if seen please contact this number…”
You weren’t missing you have been in your friends house. You were in your friends house. No this is some joke you’re not missing your…What the fuck is going on.
“ Oh the TV is on!” The doll said.
“ What did you do?” You asked.
“ Nothing.” He replied.
“ What did you do? Where are we!?”
“ I just brought you to my home!” he smiled with glee as you felt your heart sink.
“ No! It’s my friends house I’m not missing! What the hell did you do!?” You cried.
“ Hey! None of that now! Why are you crying?” He asked.
“ You fucking kidnapped me! Why won’t this stupid door open!?” You cried hyperventilating as you roughly twisted and turned the door knob.
“Let’s calm down. Listen I just brought you to my house. Home and me just took a very big liking to you!” He smiled it would look sweet in any other situation than than.
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It’s been what feels like weeks since you’ve been here. Wally says days though you have no reason to trust a word of his.
You just want to go home.
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Hello! And yes I have gotten sucked into this colorful fandom. Hope you all are having a wonderful day and enjoyed<33
If your day isn’t then I just hope it gets better.
Sincerely-Cup1dT3a💌
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whorediaries-09 · 2 months
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remember how I'd fly to you?💋 another one bc my mind RAN with ideas coquette-y!reader gives siri flowers and he's surprised because she remembered his favorite flower and reader doing lovey-dovey little things (taking care of him when he's drunk, washing his hair softly, giving him massages, making hot cocoa for him) while he stares at her in awe.
okay i kinda like how this one turned out 🎀
lavender haze;
pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- mutual pinning, tooth rotting fluff, alcohol. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- i just wanna stay...
the slut club
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i feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me
'sirius did you get your helmet?' your startled shout echoes from your house. it's still carries its softness, the healing aura when it falls on sirius' eardrums. he hears your muffled pacing around in the hall. he wonders what you're searching for, sandals or his helmet. he doesn't think you'd like to get your soft bunny slippers dirty.
he bumps his black boot against the gravel of the road, twisting and turning around his motorbike keys. he hears your footsteps echo in your pretty garden as you approach him. his black helmet in your hands, a stark contrast against your pretty pastel colored dress you wore.
'how could forget your helmet sirius!' you scold. but there's no grimace in your tone, or anger. it's pure and raw, honey coated words from your vocal cords. he throws you a lopsided smile. one that makes your heart flutter and do somersaults against your ribcage.
'it ruins my hair,' he says. you knit your eyebrows together, standing on your tiptoes, sliding the helmet across his head. biting your lip, you clasp it under his jaw.
'well you'll have to shave it off if you...' you advise, shaking your head at the horrible thought. his smile softens, as he throws his arm around your neck, pulling you closer. you breathe in his warm scent of cedar and mahogany. his hot breathe fans over your face before he presses a soft peck on your forehead. you close your eyes as heat rushes under your skin.
'i'll be safe from now on, sweetie,' he whispers against your hot blazing skin. your hand crawls over his leather jacket, as you pat him, slowly moving away from his hold. because you're sure that if you don't you'll combust right then and there.
'promise?' you ask. he inserts his key into his bike, turning on the engine. patting his helmet he nods,
'promise.'
the 'just for you' remains silent.
******
you sink your knees into the mud, planting another healthy batch of gloxinias, heathers. daisies and yarrows. your garden isn't very huge, but it's not too small either. it's patched with pretty flower beds and well mowed fresh grass. the abyss of the soft hues of pinks, lavenders and whites melt to form a garden so very like you.
sirius thinks it's endearing how much you take care of flowers. he likes them too, especially the daisies. he wonders how it would feel if you braided them into his hair, but he doesn't want to pick your carefully cultivated flowers.
he doesn't want the flowers on his hair, he thinks. he just wants to feel your fingers running through the locks. and the flowers seem to be an excuse to keep something from you. something like a souvenir. something to keep near him, knowing how much love and effort you put in to grow them.
he sinks his hand into the packet of groceries, pulling out a tray of strawberries.
'hi sweetie,' he says, standing by you. you jump a little, seemingly startled by his sudden appearance. he doesn't blame you. he finds you adorable when you're surprised...well no he finds you adorable all the time. so maybe he'd done it on purpose.
his heart skips a beat as you stand up, wiping your dirty, muddy hands on your apron. your hair is tousled, messy. your eyes reflect the shimmer of the sun, but nothing beats the shine of your smile.
'i brought you strawberries,' he hands you the tray of strawberries. you smile at him, and his heart melts. he's so in love with you, he thinks. it's endearing, how much he wants to kiss your lips, comb your tousled hair, paint your nails with pretty pastel colors, pick out sundresses for you.
'thank you, pretty,' you say. he throws you a lopsided smile. his mind reels with the nickname you used for him...pretty. he's putty in your hands and you don't even know it. he's devoted to you and you don't even know it.
'i'm gonna make it into a jam, would you want some?' you ask.
'i'd love some,'
he doesn't really want you, he loves you.
*****
it was slow. it progressed eventually. when the looks in a crowded room began to wander about solely for him. when you laughed at the silliest jokes by him. when you wore his black leather jacket on a cold day, just to realize you'd like to submerge in his scent forever. when you held his hand for the first time and the sparks crawled under your skin. when the gray skies and beaches only seemed appealing when they were the shade of his eyes.
it took a lot of convincing from lily for you to realize. you didn't really have a crush on sirius. no, you didn't want him.
you loved him.
you'd broken a few flowers from your garden. heathers, yarrows and daisies. you'd tied them together, making a little bouquet. though you weren't sure he'd like it, considering the bouquet looked like a mess. a beautiful mess none the less.
taking in a breath you knocked on his door. you heard shuffling around in his hallway, before the door swung upon, revealing a shirtless sirius. his chest was clad in tattoos, which rather hid under the t-shirts he wore. his gray sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips, revealing his happy trail. fuck, you thought, gulping slowly. you felt the heat crawl under your skin to your neck and ears, your eyes drifting to your shoes.
the sight haunted you, in the best way possible. and even though you could stare at him all day, you were just his friend.
a friend who was hopelessly in love with him.
'hav-have i interrupted something?' you ask, even though no other shoes were visible other than his.
'god, no sweetie, i was hot,'
you are hot, you think wordlessly.
'you can look, i promise,' he says. his voice carries a teasing tone. you're sure you feel your heart burst out from your ribcage and your legs turn shaky when you look at him, leaned against his doorframe, his hand tucked away in his pocket. his smile burns through you, as you hand him the jam and the bouquet of flowers. he's visually speechless. his eyebrows knitted into an unreadable emotion. you wonder what he thinks.
'thanks, love,' he says, nudging his finger against his scrunched up nose. love...he says. he'd never used it before...
you want nothing but to sink into his arms and kiss him.
*****
he wraps his hands around your body. he's sure he smells like whiskey, beer and things you don't like. but you're soft, and he's drunk. he needs you, he needs the one he loves close by. he needs to feel your skin upon his. he needs to submerge himself into your scent.
'pretty, you're drunk,' your house smells so homely. he wants to sink in your cave and presence for an everlasting period. he wants to coat his eardrums into your honey weaved voice forever.
'i knowww,' he slurs. he hears you locking the door. you house smells of vanilla and sugar. he wonders whether he had interrupted your baking session. he wonders whether you're angry at him for drinking. but your beautiful eyes speak nothing. he knits his eyebrows, tucking your head under his jaw. he presses your head against his chest.
'did i interrupt something?'
'no,' you chuckle. he thinks it's the most beautiful melody he's heard.
'sirius, you should take a bath...i'll draw you one yeah?'
he blinks as you separate yourself from him. you guide him to your couch, telling him to sit down and open his shoes. he unbuckles the belt of his boots, before he hears the splashing of water against ceramic.
'sweetie, will you wash my hair?' he says, when he sees you waddle back into the hall. you play with your fingers clumsily, not quite meeting his gaze.
'you're sure?' you whisper.
'yeah,' he nods. his heart somersaults when you agree. so he walks into your washroom. the bubbles in the bathtub shimmer under the moonlight that enter through the window. your bath smells of watermelons and strawberries. he strips himself off his clothes, sinking under the hot water.
'love, you can come in,' he shouts. you slowly walk into your bathroom. he's thrilled, to say the least. to be soaked in your scent. to finally feel your fingers against his scalp. his heart flutters, when you kneel down beside him, grabbing the bottle of shampoo.
the silence is comforting, soaked in an effervescent of pure bliss and innocence. neither of you speak, afraid to jinx the moment. because it feels unreal, a haze. but it's real, your eyes boring into his, your fingers rubbing into his scalp. it's real, his hot breath fanning over your face. it's real, how he feels so close yet so far away. it's real, when he finally breaks the silence.
'i love you, sweetie,'
'you're drunk,'
'in love,'
*****
the smell of hot chocolate mixes with your spritz of cherries. you feel the hot gaze of sirius burn your back through you. he thinks there's nothing not to love about you. he's not drunk from alcohol anymore, but he remembers confessing. he remembers being drunk in love.
because he is, right now. and he wants to be all the time, if it's you he loves.
and he doesn't regret it, no. the poems he'd written about you would never compare to the ethereal love he feels for you. the paints melting on canvas could never capture your beauty. they could never capture how you made him feel. they could never capture the softness of your voice. they could never capture the feeling of your hair against his fingers. they could never capture the feeling of your body pressed against his. they could never capture the random scribbles of your fingers on his back. they could never capture the beauty of your eyes. they could never capture your sunny smile. they could never capture the taste of your jams or cookies. they could never capture the taste of your lips against his.
they could never capture you.
not when your lips melted with his, when you hand him the cup of hot cocoa.
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dr4kenlvr · 1 year
Text
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ?
feat. shinichiro sano, inui seishu, draken, mitsuya takashi, hanma shuji x gn!reader - fluff (1.3k+)
—in which you and the boys have a sleepover together.
nana's note: tried to write for some characters i don't usually write for (as per requested by my followers hehe)! i hope my characterization of them isn't too off, please enjoy and let me cry over hanma shuji again.
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SHINICHIRO quietly shuts the door behind him, as he steps onto the balcony of his home. the warm air of a tokyo sunday travels across the exposed skin of his arms—a pleasing sensation as he searches his pocket for a lighter. a pack of opened cigarettes lay on the small table in the corner. shinichiro bends over to fetch one, lights it up, and takes a long drag. he sighs, leaning forward against the railing. everything is quiet, save for the sounds of people beneath him and the occasional loud honk of a car. but then, the sound of balcony’s door makes him turn.
it’s you—with your jacket half-on and hair disheveled all cutely. “shini, i’m gonna head home soon. i’ve got wor—”
“why don’t you just stay the night?” he says, almost without realizing. he takes another drag of his cigarette at your expression; are you gonna turn him down? but as he exhales, the smoke that evades his vision dispurses to reveal a small smile on your face. shinichiro feels his lungs somehow haven’t exhaled. 
you drop your bag on the floor, and join him outside. taking his hand in his, you begin to play with his fingers, pondering his suggestion. he looks at you with an expectant look, cigarette caught between his lips. “only if you drive me to work—without making me late.” you laugh.
shinichiro laughs with you, exhaling once more as he intertwines your hand with his. “well of course, darling.”
INUI rinses his face twice more, before you hand him a towel to pat himself dry with. “thank you,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the cotton smushed on him. you smile at him, glancing up at the bunny headband keeping his hair away from his face. he reluctantly agreed to use it, considering that no one else was around to see a man of his caliber wearing such an accessory. 
“you look cuter than you think, sei’” you look at him through the mirror, in time to see his face burn up the slightest bit before he turns his head away from your lingering eyes.
“just focus on washing your face,” he says, still refusing to face you. you giggle, as you lather the cleanser between your fingers and apply it to your face. doing skincare was a therapeutic part of both your separate routines, therefore nothing could victor the happiness you felt to do it with him.
you wash away the foam, pat yourself dry with a towel and remove your headband. taking his hand in yours, you lead him to your bed.
“you know, for someone who claims they hate the headband so much—why haven’t you taken yours off yet?” you tease, pointing out the pastel pink headband still neatly wrapped around his head. 
inui’s eyes widen, and you’re able to capture the full extent of his blush as he scrambles to take off the headband, throwing it in your direction with a huff. 
DRAKEN shakes the bag of chips, stopping when they almost spill over the edge of the bowl and onto his bedroom floor. you pop open another can of pop, reaching over to pour some into his cup. the two of you have been using this sleepover as an excuse to get high on sugar and empty calories. you’ve been at it for hours now, just mindlessly chowing down snacks while talking about everything and nothing all at once.
“that flavour is so ass, babe.” draken complains, slouching down against the side of his bed, his long arm extending over to grab some popcorn from your lap. he watches solemnly as the liquid fills his cup, before you retract your arm.
“quit your whining, you always drink it all anyways.” you retort, snorting at the look of feigned disgust on your boyfriend’s face. “besides, that’s not what you should be complaining about—try feeling the numbness in my ass from sitting on your floor for so long.”
draken laughs, coughing on his food. “my ass hurts too y’know!” he yells lightheartedly, making you laugh hysterically with him. “m’sorry i ain’t got a table for us to eat at,” he says, placing a hand on your thigh before squeezing slightly. “and i don’t think you want to eat in the main lobby of a brothel.”
you sigh, and scooch yourself closer to draken’s body. “it’s really no big deal ken, at least both of our asses hurt.” you lean up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “there’s no one else i’d rather share this butt pain with, anyways.” you say, mirroring the grin plastered on draken’s face. 
MITSUYA scrubs the plate in his hands with a sponge, coating it in soapy water before moving onto the next set of dishes in the sink. upstairs, he can hear mana and luna running around while squealing; they’re probably playing some kind of tag game. “be careful girls! don’t get hurt!” he calls from the kitchen, pausing his movements to listen for a response:
“yes brother! we’ll be careful!” luna calls out from atop the stairs, before huffing away as her sister chases her once more. mitsuya smiles, glad that they were able to occupy themselves when he had his hands full. behind him, mitsuya hears a huff too—but it’s from you, who's carrying a basket-full of laundry that needs to be folded. you place it down on the floor and begin to fold the articles of clothing, separating them between his clothes, his sisters’ and his mothers’. 
“s-sweetheart! you don’t need to do all that,” mitsuya scrambles to finish the dishes, when he realizes you’re intent on folding it all yourself. “you can just relax, i’ll be done in a bit.” 
you bite back a grin, and shake your head at him. “let me help you out takashi,” he blinks at you with an unreadable expression, “you deserve to have some weight taken off your shoulders.” 
placing a neatly folded sweater on the couch, you walk over to where he stands and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. you squeeze him tenderly, “let me help you,” your voice is muffled by his back, which you’ve shoved your face against. mitsuya’s hands—still wearing gloves, and covered in soap—are frozen as you stay there for a few moments. then he smiles down at you behind his shoulder, and with an expression of pure gratefulness, he laughs, “.. okay, my love.”
HANMA bickers you for the third time to get into bed with him: “babe! the bed’s so cold without you next to me, y’know?” he whines, making you shoot him a glare from across the room. he snickers, cheering like a child when you finally shut off the lights and walk towards the bed. hanma lifts the blanket for you to crawl under, pulling it over your body along with his own when you slump under. 
you groan happily, feeling all your muscles relax under the weight of the blanket, and hanma’s secured arms around your waist. “s’much better,” he mutters quietly, face tucked into the crook of your neck. you two had left the window slightly ajar, allowing pleasantly warm winds and the sounds of citylife to sway into the otherwise—silent room of your house. 
yawning, hanma presses a kiss to your nape and pulls you closer to him. you blindly search for his hands under the blanket, interlacing your fingers with his once you did, while shivers travelled down your spine at the feeling of his smile against your skin. you lift his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his tattooed skin, earning yourself more pecks to your skin as his lips decide to travel across the expanse of your shoulders.
as your eyes become gradually heavier, you grant yourself the luxury of finally closing them. and before the wonders of sleep can completely take over, hanma whispers a quiet “love you, angel”, before falling asleep holding you in his arms.
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taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya @gwynsapphire @sscarchiyo @reiners-milkbiddies @smileyswifeyy @bontensimp-blog @thisbicc @megumisemo (send me an ask or dm to be added!)
reblogs, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!
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cozymoko · 9 months
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You wanted requests, right? So what if it was the other way around? Yandere Siyun Baek having to take care of his girlfriend that got sick?
(I hope this requests isn't too boring, love your blog btw ❤❤)
SIYUN BAEK WITH A SICK S/O
Manhwa: “Dreaming Freedom” ~~~~!
Note: Its perfect! Thank you for requesting! Also thank you for reading, you made my day. ♡
Pairing: Siyun Baek x female! reader
Format: Headcanons; 2nd person
WARNING(S): Yandere themes, obsession, mild spoilers
Word Count: ???
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It's ALLERGY and/or FLU SEASON, and unfortunately, you've fallen very ill. Best case scenario you'll have a cold and nothing more; a high fever at the worst. But either way, Siyun isn't complaining.
You can't go anywhere? Great! You feel like absolute shit and can barely move from your bed? Oh my, even better! Besides working out, Siyun doesn't have much to pass his time with. He's lonely without you, often finding himself watching the clock, counting the minutes — seconds before you return to him.
But seeing you tucked tightly beneath the pastel duvet, wrapped in a small cocoon. Your cheeks lightly flushed a rather feverish hue, as ragged breaths slipped past your dry lips. Call him crazy but you're absolutely adorable. He could hardly keep his hands to himself!
“Y'know, you look really cute like this {Name}.”
You huffed, “You almost look happy that I'm in this situation.” With a light shove, you pushed his face away from your own for what felt like the thousandth time. Finally ditching the thick sheets, you turn away from him, welcoming the chilled puffs of air to your warm skin.
“Would you be mad if I said I was?” Siyun asked, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek into the tender skin of your own. “God, you're adorable...”
“Yes. Now, let go; I'm burning up.”
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Siyun is CLINGY as it is. Therefore, you being bedridden to some degree is right up his alley. Personal space has never been a thing in your relationship, and he's not going to let a little flu stop him. Embracing you, suffocating you with his body; it's all too easy! Pressing sweet, chaste kisses along the warm skin of your neck. Sneakily, dragging his slender fingers beneath the flimsy silk of your pajamas.
In all honesty, he'd rather have you stay at his house until you feel well again. It works pretty well, convenience-wise. It stops him from wrenching your door open, occupying your home with the crying of loud unwavering hinges. Or perhaps even sneaking through your window.
You being so vulnerable excites him in more ways than he'd care to admit. He truly is a pervert. Chewing on his pink lips, even digging his nails into his milky skin, no longer seems to be enough. Though his desires are anything but malicious, Siyun can't help the wandering of his young mind to many, many impure places.
Your parents already adore him, let's be honest! Thus, convincing them to let you stay the night or week should be a piece of cake. It's almost scary, the way he speaks to your parents; so polite and dare I say perfect. It's truly no surprise that he was a former idol, a famous one at that. How could your adoring mother and father not allow such a kind man to nurture and care for your well-being?
Siyun brings your head to his chest, relishing in the heat you radiate. His hands had fallen past your waist, toying with the thin band of your thin shorts. You give his chest a weak push, as a pitiful attempt to distance yourself. But it was no use, he merely pulled you closer, much to your dismay.
“Siyun...” You breathed out, weakly clawing at his slender hands. “Stop this, you're going to get sick.”
He hummed, “Is that so?” Though his hands showed no sign of leaving your waist. Instead, they tugged you flush against his chest with a low chuckle. Warm breath tickled the back of your neck, making you tense in anticipation.
“Then I guess we're just gonna have to be sick together~!” ♡
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Let's say you're a STUDENT; high school or college, it's your choice. And due to your abrupt sickness, you're bound to miss at least a handful of classes. But fret not my dear, your classmates are itching to help you out. I mean, you're dating the Siyun Baek after all, just a glance at him could send anything girl into a frenzy!
Thankfully, your teacher settled for your seatmate. A kind, extroverted guy who you got along with quite well. He had managed to get your number due to a recent project and was quick to alert you of his unexpected arrival.
[CHOI BYUNG-CHUL]
➤ Heya [Last Name], the teacher asked me to bring sum missin assignments to ur place. Is that okey with u?
SENT; 17:23
You snort at the scrambled characters, finding some charm amongst the male's easy mistakes. It wasn't something unusual as he was an infamous clutz in your class. So he was likely texting while typing, again. Your fingers hover over the luminous keyboard, before eventually sending him a simple response.
[YOU] ➤ Yeah, it's fine lol. But I'm not home so come to this address “XX XXXX Avenue/Drive/Street” SENT; 17:25
➤ Have a safe trip. :)
SENT; 17:25
While immersed in your phone, you had yet to notice a certain someone looming over you in displeasure. From lack of attention, perhaps. But you had never been one to allow technology to soak up your time, nonetheless when you're ill. So who could possibly be taking up your time? He pondered, glaring hard at the device resting on your hand.
Pulling back the covers, Siyun moved to join you beneath the spotless sheets of the mattress. The dipping of the bed didn't bother you, let alone pull you from the flashing screen of your phone. The ex-idol sighed loudly, shifting to take the pesky item from your protective grip. Only to be brushed off by a bored, dismissive hand.
He. Was. Livid.
“Babe~!” Siyun cooed, though his tone lacked even an ounce of playfulness. “What on your phone could possibly be so damn interestin—” DING DONG!
Whew! Saved by the bell.
“I'll get it.” He murmured under his breath, tossing the thick duvet to the side. The man was quick to leave in long, haste strides, but not before his eyes flicked to your stunned form one last time.
Now, Siyun had expected a lot of things, but this surely wasn't one of them. A shorter male, about five feet seven inches, no older than nineteen was at his door. His mousy brown hair was a mess, and he had a lightly tinted folder tucked tightly beneath his arm.
“H-hi, I'm one of [Last Name]'s classmates and I brought some papers to her.” Byung-Chul commenced, frantically unzipping the top of his backpack. “She — uhm, texted me this address.”
Oh, now it all made sense. The persistent flashing of your phone, snatching your attention right from his grasp. The lighthearted giggles that'd leave your mouth ever so often. Friendly, that they were. Giggles that held no sense of love; merely admiration and glee. Even so, it wasn't good enough.
One could say the latter is quite bitter. And if If looks could kill, your friend would be six — no, ten feet under! And that's being generous. But Siyun knows better than to let his bad side show. Heh, who am I kidding?
A faux smile tugged at the corner of his lips, one he was all too familiar with using. “Ah, I see. Thanks for coming...?”
“Choi Byung-Chul!” He chirped, handing the papers to the former idols' outstretched hand.
“Heh, right,” Siyun scoffs, disinterested. He lazily takes the folder from the male, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. “Since you're already here, I have a little favor for you. If you're up for it.”
“I...um — yeah, sure,” Byung-Chul stammered, looking over the time blaring from the smartwatch adorning his wrist. “I can spare a few minutes. What's up—?”
A sharp pain shot through the poor man's abdomen in mere seconds, sending him crumbling to his knees. Siyun loosely shook his wrist in the air, allowing the gentle breeze to cool the slight stinting of his knuckles. A cold, lifeless expression grazed the face of the once-beloved idol as he watched the man wither beneath his gaze.
“Stay away from [Name]. I wouldn't want anyth ing bad to happen to you~!”
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synthetickitsune · 1 month
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Red Haze ✧ j.ww
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader Genre: smut Summary: The taste lingering on your tongue is smooth like his hands caressing your skin and the warmth in your chest could be love or wine, who really knows. It's unimportant either way with the way he's looking at you. Word count: 2.6k Warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol consumption A/N: This is my part for @svthub's cupid fic exchange aka cupid's gift for @wonusite! Surprise! I hope you enjoy it and have a nice day ♡
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The sunset bleeds deep red honey color over the pink sky. The clouds lazily lounging in the air look like stray rose petals Cupid mischievously left for the angels to be flustered by. It’s a beautiful and warm evening. Your feet hurt from all the walking you did today, but the view is worth it. You sway a little, acting clumsy and more tipsy than you are, because the only thing that would make this moment more perfect is Wonwoo’s hands on your waist. And you always get what you want.
He catches you quickly and pulls you to his side, giving you an unimpressed look. He knows your limits better than you do, and he knows that the wine tasting you devoted the day to isn’t enough to get you drunk. His playful annoyance quickly disappears from his face, however, when you lean up and kiss his jaw.
You’re both tired and the wine makes you feel a pleasant buzz that makes the short walk back to the house you’re staying at feel surreal and peaceful. You end up leaning your head on Wonwoo’s shoulder for the rest of the way. His arm remains curled around your waist. You feel protected and satisfied, life feels just like you’re living in a fairytale.
The feeling lasts even after you make it past the front door and into the kitchen, sharing a glass of water that feels disappointing to say the least after the rich tastes you enjoyed throughout the day. Looking around, the walls are tinted pastel red too. The world is blushing on the lovers’ day. 
All the colors of the world are not important, though, safe for the black of Wonwoo’s eyes. It seems deeper, richer, a warm darkness that feels like the hug of the night after you’re safely wrapped in your sheets after a long day. It’s made warmer by the look in his eyes, speaking of pure devotion and adoration. It makes you shy, even after all this time, so you decide to speak up to chase away the embarrassment.
“You never formally asked me to be your valentine, you know?” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. It’s pointless - why should he? Isn’t this little retreat enough? Isn’t the way he looks at you enough? He laughs, pulling you closer until your head rests on his chest and his arms can wrap around your body. 
“Is that necessary?” He asks and sighs in amusement when you fervently nod your head. He rests his head against yours while he thinks for a while. “Do I need to ask every year?”
You nod your head again. “Do it or I will.”
“Hmm, won’t you trust me instead?” his hand leaves your waist to cup your cheek as he makes you look into his warm, dark eyes, “I will never want another Valentine. I will court you again and again every February.”
You bite your lip, trying to stop it from trembling as warmth spreads through your body, from your heart all the way to your fingertips. You cover Wonwoo’s hand with yours and turn your head to kiss his palm. 
“It’s just me and you until the end of time,” he smiles and strokes your cheek with his thumb. It doesn’t take much to convince you to kiss his lips instead. 
He tastes like wine, just the same as you. You recognize the aftertaste as the one of the last wine you tasted earlier. The one that charmed you and made you crave more. As if Wonwoo's lips weren't addictive enough already.
"What was it called?" you ask once you part, not pulling away much. Half-tempted to dive in for more.
"I'm not telling," Wonwoo smirks, instead fulfilling your unspoken wish and kissing you again. His tongue meets no resistance, only a warm welcome. His hand cradles your face and you allow him full control of the kiss. Your hands twist in the collar of his shirt between your fingers. It's good his arm is around your waist, holding you up or you'd be a puddle on the floor.
"Why?" you demand before you give up any semblance of control and kiss him deeper. The wine makes you do it. The red light and the taste. The feeling of Wonwoo enveloping all your senses. It makes your head spin and your knees shake.
“Breathe,”  he tells you, and you do. His lips meet the corner of your lips and you finally fill your lungs with oxygen.
"Why didn't you remember the name?" he teases, amused and tempted by the pout on your lips.
"Because I knew you would," you mumble.
"And I did," he laughs, "So I get to do what I want with that information."
“But why?” you whine a little, sliding your hands up his chest and to his neck, playing with the hair on his nape. He’s not caving.
“It was your favorite, wasn't it? ‘Best I ever had’ did you say?” he waits for you to confirm, “So that's why. Only I can get it for you now.” 
He kisses the tip of your nose while you're still trying to process that he'd actually gatekeep your new favorite wine from you. He laughs more at your perplexed expression. “It’s expensive anyway, I should be the only one to spoil you like that, right?” 
“Will I have to wait for another Valentine’s day then?” you challenge.
“Spoiling you is a year-round thing,” he tuts. You half-expected an answer like that, but it still makes more heat rise to your cheeks.
“And when will it be my turn to spoil you?” you blink up at him. He pretends to think for a moment. The corners of his lips, twitching up, betray him though.
“Every morning that I wake up with you next to me.”
“That's so cheesy, so so cheesy,” you sigh, hiding your face in his chest.
“And still if I let you go now I'd see how weak in the knees it made you.”
“You're-’
“Terrible? Horrible? Mean?”
“Love of my life,” you correct him with a pointed gaze as if he didn't finish your sentence correctly.
“Look who's cheesy now,” he sighs before he guides your head back to his chest, quick enough that you can't tell if that's red dusting his cheeks or just a trick of the light.
“And my knees are still not working properly - it’s the wine, don’t get any ideas,” you warn him playfully as his chest shakes with chuckles, “So how about you help me to the bathroom and have a shower with me?”
“Lovely idea,” he hums, “If you let me undress you.”
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With just one exchanged glance through the steam rising in the shower you both knew it’s not going to end with simply washing each other’s bodies.
It’s a blur - how you managed to get through the shower routine filled with giggles and less than innocent touches, how - or why - you got dressed in your night clothes when you soon laid undressed again under him on the silky sheets. You beg to be touched, beg for him to stop exploring your body as if he needed to commit it to his memory. 
Wonwoo’s fingers finally dip between your folds. You take in a shaky breath as his warm fingertips circle your clit before slowly slipping lower. He just wants to tease, you know, but this time you bite your lip to stop from moaning and smirking at his surprise that you recognize in the brief pause in his movements.
“So wet from just a little sweet talk and showering?” he recovers and hums against your skin. His lips leave a trace of kisses down your neck, tender and innocent, yet your skin feels too sensitive. His fingers work their magic, teasing your clit with feather light touches that make you squirm. You don’t know if it’s the wine or the light pouring over his features just right or if it’s simply him and your love for him, but the softest of touch feels like it’s setting your body on fire.  He adds a little pressure and the pleasure is so intense that it makes you reach for his wrist. 
“Please,” you whisper, “Need you. Need you a lot.”
“I’ll make you feel good, darling,” he promises against your throat, his teeth scraping your skin. You shiver as goosebumps erupt over your skin. Your fingers circling his wrist don’t hold him back at all as he slowly inserts one inside your warm fluttering walls. His free hand that held your thighs apart caresses your body until it reaches your chest, cupping your breast. Your hardened nipple brushes against his palm as you arch your back into his touch. His lips move across your jaw to your lips, relishing in the vibrations of your pleased mewl.
“Need more,” you beg breathlessly, “Need you, Wonwoo.”
“You can’t take it, baby,” he shushes you with more sweet kisses. It’s hard to think, to do more than kiss him back. You feel like you’re floating, completely lost in the feeling of your lover’s lips and hands. His fingers curling inside you, taking your breath away, his thumb nudging your clit and making your toes curl, and the tender attention he pays to your breasts that turns your mind into a foggy mess. His tongue long since won the battle. It’s only natural to submit to him. It’s as natural as breathing to chase after his lips when he pulls away with a smile. “You’re so gone already, you wouldn’t handle my cock.”
You want to argue that you would in fact handle whatever he gives you, but it’s not possible. Not when your body feels like it’s melting and you only half hum, half moan in response. You barely have the strength to keep your eyes open and watch him. Watch the fond smile on his face and the spark in his eyes. “Feels good?”
You nod. Then you remember your hand still loosely wrapped around his wrist and you manage to stroke across his veins a few times, making him chuckle without ever slowing down the speed of his fingers pumping inside you. They drag against your walls at just the right pace. He knows your body so well, knows how to make you scream and cry in pleasure, but he knows more than that. All your worries disappear along with any tension, anxiety or fears. It’s just Wonwoo. Wonwoo and his love, your love. 
You let your eyes meet with some difficulty and his eyes are melted chocolate, dripping with sweetness. He gets shy, his composure slipping for a second before he relaxes. It’s just the two of you. He doesn’t hide how smitten he is with you, though you have a feeling it would be impossible anyway. His lips are parted, tongue darting to wet them as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure. He feels you clenching around his fingers, feels your body pushing and pulling, fighting against and leaning into the sensation he provides. You’re so beautiful and so vulnerable. He could do anything with you, he knows you would let him. He could even take the approaching climax away from you and deny you the release. And while other nights he might take advantage of that for his entertainment, he won’t. Not today. Not when all he can think of is that his heart will burst if he doesn’t kiss you.
So he does. 
You whimper weakly. He feels your fingers tighten around his wrist, feels your chest rise and fall so fast. He focuses more of his attention on your clit, his fingers almost stilling and rubbing that spongy spot inside you. You’re struggling to catch your breath and he feels a little bit of guilt for that, but he’d feel worse if he denied you the kiss you so desperately return and keep coming for more.
Your words all blur together into desperate whines and moans, but he understands all the same. It’s a shame he has to give up playing with your nipples to hold your thighs apart, but you’re trembling too much and making it harder for him to please you while you hang on the edge of your climax.
He soothes your spasming muscles with gentle caress. Finally he allows you to breathe, pulling away only enough to watch you come undone. Your nails scratch his wrist, but what’s a little pain if he has the privilege to make you feel so good you can only think of the pleasure? He’s relentless even as your body tries to twist away from him. Your walls are sucking him in, your hips meeting all his movements. You were made for him weren’t you? 
He leans down to kiss your forehead, grounding you when the waves of pleasure wash over you and you almost forget how to breathe. He guides you through your high and safely back into his arms. Your nails digging into his skin become a warm invitation pulling him to lay on top of you. He grants your silent request easily. Still he’s careful not to put too much weight on you and pulls out his fingers slowly. It’s a bit awkward trying to maneuver himself without hurting you and reach for the tissues without making a mess on your skin or the pillows and the sofa.
The fog clouding your mind slowly settles and you realize his predicament, chuckling as he shuffles on top of you until he finally does what he has to and wraps both his arms around you.
“I love you,” you whisper, stifling a yawn to pepper some kisses on Wonwoo’s face, “I really enjoyed that.”
“I love you too,” he smiles, much more hesitant to meet your eyes now and so he kisses you again instead. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Tired,” you sigh, but even so your hands creep under his shirt. His skin is so smooth and tempting. It's hard to move, you just want to soak up his warmth. At the same time, there are more exciting things you want to do. He hums, before gently moving away and letting your hands slip out. He walks to the adjacent bathroom and comes back with a wet washcloth. You frown at him a little.
“You’re tired,” he gives you a look, sitting down next to you and coaxing you to let him clean you up with gentle caresses.
“Wanna make you feel good too,” you mumble, whining as the wet cloth makes contact with your heated core.
“Already did, baby,” he smiles at you, “I love watching you enjoying yourself and you know that.”
“But…” you hesitate. He’s right, you’re sleepy and too sensitive. At the same time, you only want to please him. He shakes his head with a smile and kisses your forehead before making a quick work of putting the washcloth away. He lies down with you, pulling you closer to his body. It’s so warm you think you’ll need to get rid of the blanket in a bit, if only it didn’t feel like it keeps you safe and separated from the world.
“No buts. Remember when I said all the spoiling I need is waking up with you next to me?” he asks and you nod, too eager to hear him out to cringe, “I would like waking up with you on top of me as well.”
You laugh, weakly smacking his chest. He laughs too, quickly reassuring you he wasn’t being serious - but he wasn’t lying either.
“I like you under me too,” you purr as you nuzzle into his chest.
“You already have me under your thumb,” Wonwoo confesses quietly, so quietly you don’t hear it before slowly succumbing to sleep.
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yjhariani · 1 year
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Stealth Mission
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X GN!Reader Word count: 1100± Warning: Profanity Summary: Annoying your husband in any way possible.
A/N: Still fixated on the idea of crossovering CoD and RE because. Maybe I should branch out and make the reader a part of SCP Foundation MTF.
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Ever since you married Simon, you made it your objective to annoy him in any loving way possible. One of the ways to do so, you titled Stealth Mission. Not only because it required stealth, it would end up mostly redacted in the history book of your marriage.
The way you saw it was that both your work was so harsh and full of darkness that you two needed at least occasional light in between. So, you started it.
For example; Simon was getting ready to go to the gym. You scouted the area around his duffle bag. Once making sure that Simon was away from the area and that the area was clear (sometimes you bait him by putting his phone somewhere inside the house and calling it so he went to get it), you made your way in towards the duffle bag.
Eyes on and sharp, you went through his bag. You took out his shirt that was black in colour and replaced it with the package; a bright, pastel pink cropped shirt or a bright yellow tank top, maybe a neon green water bottle or red towel with hearts and flowers or cute little cats or puppies on it. 
You tucked it inside the bag, made sure that it was hidden. Once the package was delivered, you RTB (Return to Base—wherever the hell Simon was not).
A few minutes later, Simon left. In a few hours, he returned home to you waiting for him in the living room with your camera opened. He was wearing the package. Usually, you managed to take a couple of snaps before Simon looked at you disapprovingly.
Mission complete.
Another example; you waited until Simon fell asleep. Once he did, you very carefully removed yourself from the bed. You had direct intel that Simon’s phone was located on the nightstand. You located it precisely where he would usually put it.
You made your way to the other side very quietly and very stealthily. You stayed prone on the ground, but not after getting the target—Simon’s phone.
With a little bit of tech forgery, you unlocked the phone (in actuality, he made sure you could unlock his phone with a fingerprint or even your face as well as giving you the passcode). You connected the phone to a pair of earbuds that you had prepared to ensure that there would be no loud noises accidentally echoing.
From there, you downloaded the most obnoxious song—maybe Crazy Frog or Barbie Girl. Afterwards, you set his alarm with said downloaded song before making sure to disconnect the earbuds from the phone. Following that, you returned the phone to where it was before returning yourself stealthily to your side of the bed.
The next morning, you two were woken up by the most ridiculous song ever. You started the day with Simon calling you little shit.
Mission complete.
If you were not feeling too lazy, after making sure Simon could not catch you doing it, you would intentionally make an effort to pull a chair and put a lot of things on the higher shelves, just out of your reach. Every time you called for him to help you get them it would annoy him because you could simply pull a chair or something.
However, sometimes he was feeling generous and picked you up, letting you take whatever you were reaching for with your own hands. Simon rarely put you down immediately and you two ended up at least making out.
Another mission complete?
One time, you did the same thing throughout the whole week you two were home. You kept asking Simon if he had seen something that was in plain sight.
“Simon, did you see my phone?” you asked whilst holding your phone.
“In your hand, love,” Simon said.
Sometime later, you asked him, “Simon, have you seen that mug I just bought for you?” as you handed him said mug with tea that you brewed for him.
“You’re taking the piss?” Simon replied.
The next day, you just finished showering with only a towel on you and walked to where Simon was, asking, “Simon, I can’t find my towel.”
“Don’t make me rip it off you,” Simon warned.
At some point, you were doing laundry. You held the laundry basket in one hand and shouted Simon’s name.
“Everything alright, darling?” Simon asked.
“I brought the hamper here earlier, I don’t remember where I put it,” you answered.
A little frustrated, Simon was about to say something a little mean, but decided not to. Instead, he put up a finger.
“No,” he said. “I’m not doing this.”
The last one at the end of the week happened while he was lounging in the living room. You walked over, looking under the table, under the pillow, in between the seats.
Simon, at this point, knew what you were doing. He was about to ignore you, but he did not find it in his heart to do so.
“What are you looking for this time?” Simon sighed.
“I’m looking for my husband,” you stated.
There was a second passing of Simon furrowing his eyebrows before he stood up.
Uh-oh.
“Get over here,” Simon requested.
“Why?” you asked, holding back a laugh.
“Just get over here,” Simon replied and started walking towards you.
You stepped aside, around the table.
After another pause where the two of you were mapping the living room and tried to guess each other’s net move, Simon started literally chasing you around the living room. It got weird pretty quickly.
You rolled on the ground to avoid him and Simon started calculating his movement.
Hollowing your hand in front of your mouth, you said, “This is Y/N to HQ, requesting immediate backup.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” you heard Simon muttered as he continued to chase you around the living room.
“Eyes on armed tango in the up right,” you continued. “Fucking beefy, fucking scary, and fucking handsome.”
“Y/N, stop this!” Simon insisted, but you started to see him smiling a little bit.
Grinning, you tried to make your way out of the living room, getting chased by Simon before getting tackled by him onto the sofa.
“Contact! I’m hit!” you announced. “Going dark!”
“Going dark?” Simon repeated, half chuckling.
“I don’t know why I said that,” you chuckled.
Simon only looked at you for a moment, a thin smile bloomed on his face.
“Remind me why we’re married again?” Simon said.
“Oh, we got our wages raised if we’re married and I got a house,” you said.
“Right,” Simon nodded.
“I also seem to remember that you said that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” you teased.
“I’m changing my mind just this second,” Simon said.
“And you still love me anyway. How’s that making sense?” you replied.
Instead of answering that, Simon started kissing you.
Mission complete.
If you were not feeling too lazy, after making sure Simon could not catch you doing it, you would intentionally make an effort to pull a chair and put a lot of things on the higher shelves, just out of your reach. Every time you called for him to help you get them it would annoy him because you could simply pull a chair or something.
However, sometimes he was feeling generous and picked you up, letting you take whatever you were reaching for with your own hands. Simon rarely put you down immediately and you two ended up at least making out.
Again, these missions would end up being redacted in the history book of your marriage and the only people who would know about these missions were the people involved; you and him.
However, next time, though, you might have to buy some Nerf guns.
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drak3n · 3 months
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TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE: PROLOGUE
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ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: the launching of a new platform magically re-connecting seperated people has shaken the entirety of social media. after many months of contemplation and denial, you give in to your urges.
ꨄ. SENA’S NOTE: this merely serves as a way to introduce all eight parts of the mini-series! as they’re all characters from different fandoms, there clearly won’t be names or any specific action in this! so this is a little short :)
TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE MASTERLIST
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
everywhere.
it was everywhere you went. following you around like it was your shadow, cornering you at any given possibility.
you knew the drill. once something went viral anywhere, it would stick around for some time and then be forgotten.
that wasn’t the case with this damn live show. not at all. the first time it had been announced on international tv must have been ages ago, like around the beginning of the year. yet, the hype never seemed to die down, with more and more people freaking out online and in real life about how it changed their lives.
you were convinced it was a scam. like come on, who even believed in a fairy tale like that? being reunited with a lost lover, or any kind of lover who it didn’t work out with?
there was a reason it hadn’t worked out. because if there wasn’t, you’d still surely be with that person.
it started with trailers being shown on every channel you zipped through, announcing free slots for their newest season and putting emphasis on their confidentiality. how people had the choice to stay anonymous while spilling their private and embarrassing matters to so-called love experts.
such bullshit.
now, it went way past that. you ended up avoiding watching tv, just to literally be haunted by that cursed show in other ways. through flyers and stickers flying around, through posters hung up on subway stations and even inside of said subways, hell, a couple of days ago, there was even an airship promoting it.
TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE. a silly name for a concept just as silly as that.
what did you have to do again to apply?
right, as if there was any way of forgetting with how much your coworkers were babbling about it. they made sure to remind you of that every day.
“i’m still thinking if i should just call them the next time and try my luck,” you heard one of many tell another while you were waiting in the line for your lunch. “i really, really want to make up with my ex. they’re my only hope.”
their conversation went on for many more minutes, and you were glad when you finally were next in line to greet the lunch lady with a tired smile. as she filled your tray in a halfhearted manner, your smile quickly faded away upon hearing her talk to a fellow worker behind the counters.
“my son and his teenage love reconciled after he applied there. they are awaiting their first child soon!” the elderly woman gushed while placing a cup of pudding onto your tray, waiting for you to scan your employee id before you shuffled away from the line to plop down on an empty space in the crowded lunch hall.
it was all the same. love, love, love. always those same old problems. getting dumped, being abandoned, or doing the dumping and abandoning.
regret, sadness, frustration, desperation.
you came home that sane evening with thoughts plaguing your mind; with the big question if those were all signs for you to see. if everything you’d been hearing and seeing for these past couple of months were meant to open your eyes, somehow. to get the hint.
making a beeline to your bedroom, your eyes darted to the package placed on your bed. still untouched and waiting to be sent. the pastel pink stamp had been placed on the corner of the box yesterday by you. those fuckers made so much money with their hit show that they distributed stamps, to force them to send more drama their way for them to indulge in.
it was stupid that you had even put in the effort to package what was meant to have been tossed away long ago. it might or might not have been long yet, but why did you keep that?
as a writer, you couldn’t contain yourself. even back then, you had always known you’d end up becoming anything connected to writing, journaling, whatever. it was almost annoying how you used to document all those feelings you couldn’t put into words.
specifically writing letters had always been your passion. writing down your heartbreaks and grief into words and making them come to life on paper.
words you failed to tell him.
the recipients were all written on the envelopes inside the box, some years ago, and some recently, and you didn’t even know if they were still the same addresses.
for some, you knew for sure they weren’t.
even if the cast of TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE — if they picked you, that is — wouldn’t find their current addresses, you were for sure going to be relieved. those letters had been a significant burden on your heart ever since you had written them.
for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel any kind of satisfaction from writing. these letters existed to be sent. and you were realizing it just now.
they were meant to be read aloud, understood. they had to be read by others for you to be at peace with your unresolved feelings.
the very next morning, you handed the package to the post office, bidding farewell to years of bottled-up and hidden feelings.
it wasn’t until a week later that you received a letter, with the same pink stamp and sender the same you had sent your letters to. you found yourself reading it in front of the door to your apartment:
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
dear contestant,
we thank you for your package and were enthralled to read about your experiences. upon short discussions within our team of experts, we soon decided to choose your case to present in our next live airing, which is going to be this saturday!
the letters have already been sent out to their respective addresses — some of which we had to adjust as there have been changes.
it is up to you if you want to join us for our next airing — it be via call or even by showing up at our studio! we will welcome you in any case and make sure you will reunite with one of your lost loves.
please do not worry, as we will handle all of your data with the utmost care and make sure that none of it is leaked for other purposes.
up until then, stay lovely and trust the process!
ꨄ. your TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE cast
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
PROCEED TO OPEN LETTER
THE LOST LOVE ꨄ TOJI FUSHIGURO
THE ONE NIGHT STAND ꨄ HIROMI HIGURUMA
THE NEMESIS ꨄ ATSUMU MIYA
THE BEST FRIEND ꨄ KEN RYUGYJI
FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS GONE WRONG ꨄ SHUJI HANMA
THE FORBIDDEN LOVE ꨄ LEVI ACKERMAN
RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIMING ꨄ TOUYA TODOROKI
THE BOY NEXT DOOR ꨄ SHOUEI BAROU
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
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sea-of-dust · 11 months
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Wonderland Girl
Himeko,Jing Yuan,Seelie,Yanqing x GN! Reader
Summary: Relationship Headcannons!
Notes: Muhahaha, another theme change stg if I change my name rn no one will recognize me 😼😼. Ignore the Pastel★Pallette Referance I ran outta ideas
Warnings: suggestive humor,not proofread
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She finds you so adorable even when your supposed to be serious. She'd be right next to you watching you come up with a plan and circle around the room. When you come up with a plan you do this cute thing where your head perks up and she just melts seeing this you can't be this cute.
She also likes whenever you act professionally in front of people from the train and then turn around and flirt with her. "Yea...if March is right about this, this could lead to a whole investigation breaking out... What do you think my dear" "my dear?" "Well the best course of action if things go south would probably be an ambush" "yea...most likely I'll go with you guys" "does that mean my room will be vacant again?" She teases "don't worry you still have plenty of things to remind you of me while I'm out ♡" March leans into the Trailblazer. "I think we should give em some room" "they need a room"
100% her hands are all over you. If your right next to she's having a hand around your waist. You could be on your phone she'd lean on you smiling. "You're so warm" she remarks, laying on your shoulder. She just loves physical contact
Her kisses are soft yet intimate depending on how many people are around. She's fine with pda but understands if you may be uncomfortable. Dosent stop her for pinning you against a wall and kissing you all over. "You're so adorable when you're flustered," she smiles
Welt usually gets indirectly bullied by you two. You could be all lovey dovey while he's on a call with the Trailblazer and he would just be unable to handle it. You pointed this out to her and wanted to see how long it would take for him to leave the room. "Himeko you're so beautiful today!" "Why you're as beautiful as always my dear" "Why you're stunning my love!" He looks back at you two annoyed. "Pardon Trailblazer" he moves to another room he could hear you two laughing in the other room.
She enjoys you pampering her. You tucking her in or preparing food for her. She loves it! She'll pay you back preparing a bath for you or giving you massages. "Just relax I'm very good with my hands" she rubs your back. "Thank you Himeko" "No problem" she kisses the back of your neck.
She likes dancing with you in private, not everyone should be allowed to see this side of her after all, a calm song with her being able to rest on your shoulder as you lead. "Thought you said you had cold feet" "I can manage." It's so calm and intimate that she tries not to fall asleep on you. "Don't sleep again" "aw howed you know" she looks up a bit drowsy. "Whenever you go five minutes without conversation it's kinda odvious your drifting off" she smiles "you know me well~"
She slipped a ring on your finger while out on a date. You two were drinking tea, and while you were looking away, she slips a ring on your finger. When you notice this, you look at your hand and look at her. "What?" "Did you-" she smirks, watching your flabbergasted reaction
She adores staying in and watching moves with you. Random crime docs or just bad TV drama she enjoys laying in bed next to you as you two cringe at a bad romance show. The best parts definitely when you end up sleeping. Then she gets to admire just how cute you could be without even trying!
Attempting to make tea together is something she didn't know she wanted until you did it. "Himeko, what flavor do you like?" You yell out,"Whichever you'd like." "That's not what I mean!" She walks into the room, finding you going through tea. "That one's hard to prepare. I'll show you," she guides you step by step on a way to make that tea. "And that's it!" You sigh in relief "oh finally that took two years!" She giggles at this, taking a quick sip. "...we should do this more often"
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"Hey would you date me if there was a bird on your head right now?" "Why that's an odd chance but I'm willing to take it" you pluck out a bird from his head "...well-"
It was an odd way of asking him out, but what was odder was how genuine his feelings were for you. You never really saw any signs of him liking you. "You thought someone kissing your hand was normal?" "I thought that's how he greeted people!"
His kisses are quick and surprising. You turn to face him, he has a kiss planted on your cheek. You just wake up, quick little kiss. The only times you'll get a longer kiss outta him is when he's feeling a little more intimate or just a way of saying thank you for adoring him the way you do.
Whenever you're sick, he lets you come into the office to stay with him, but you gotta do some of the paperwork at least three pieces. "I told you you should have stayed home." "I can handle it!" You lean into him. "You're already groaning after the first paragraph," he softly laughs. "It's overwhelming, but I can do it!" He sighs turning back to his work
He likes catching whenever you look at him. You would admire his beauty thinking about him almost zoning out. He winks at you suddenly, waking you up from the day dream flustered. "How long was I staring at you?" "Few minutes" "HUH"
Dates with him are calm and fascinating. Often walks where you two sharing random stories with each other. He can't help but smile as you recount a random story you had. "So this one time I found a moth in my room" "mhm" "and it was on the shoe I usually used to kill bugs" "I see" "and then I remembered there was another shoe and smacked it" "remmber something simular happened to me but instead of a bug, it was a bird!" "You're like a princess next your birds are going to make up a military." "...that's actually a pretty good idea" an odd silence "so did you actually smack a bird-" "No I let it fly free out the window" "oh-"
He dosent want you near any danger. The dangers of paperwork are fine but straight up fighting monsters. No you're staying inside. Even when you have combat prowess he's still gonna be all "no its too dangerous" "I fought them before tho-" "good counter argument...stay inside till its safe" "HUH-"
He'll let you pat his head as long as there aren't any birds on it. As soon as you do, he leans in to eventually leaning on your chest. "Are they that calming?" "Very much" he smiles
He thinks you're so adorable. He tries to hide the urge to just cup your cheeks to see your reaction. He enjoys the thought of catching you all flustered and kissing you just to see your reaction.
He let you meet members of the military, and they treat you like a little sibling. Like a damsel, it makes you wonder when they'll ever realize why there are fewer monsters appearing lately. "General! Monsters haven't appeared as much as they used to its assumed they must be retreating!" "Why what good news the problem is...where are they retreating to..." and you'd just be looking away from him like you're totally not the cause for this
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She's very VERY clingy. She won't lose you she'll make sure of it.
If anyone in the underground didn't know you were her s/o, she'd force em to know. You'd have to hit her with a "this isn't you 🥺" as soon as you got home, she'd hate it. "Pookie!" You'd snap your fingers in her face."This isn't you!" Snap snap,"quit it! You know stuff like that's cringy" "Sorry, can't help myself"
She'd sometimes get lost in thought when talking to you, almost in a daze. "Are you alright?" You wave your hand over her face. "Yea, yea I'm fine did you just...always look so?" Once she realized she said that last part outloud, she covers her face. "Forget I said anything!"
She loves whispering things into your ear. She thinks it's intimate. She'd sit next to you leaning in "I love you~" you look at her blush nearly covering your face. "Could have said that outloud!" "Seeing you flustered makes me wanna do it more"
She pokes you whenever she's in a bad mood or just finished off a mission. Poke Poke "you had a bad day huh?" "What makes you say that" she pokes you a bit more. "Did you get into an argument with someone again?" You cup her cheek. "...maybe" she stops poking you. "How about this we get some ice cream later to help you forget about it!"
She sometimes draws stuff on your skin. Randomly opening a marker and drawing a small butterfly. If you ever told her to stop she'd look a little disappointed before figuring out she could just write letters and cover them with little drawings in the corners. "She's so old fashioned but these little drawings...she's so adorable" Natasha smiles "she's so childish when around you" "really? I just always assumed she was like this"
If she were to ever catch you asleep, she'd cuddle up with you as if waiting for you to notice she's there with you. She'd kinda lay there awkwardly before just pulling you in for a cuddle.
Natasha definitely has pictures of Seelie growing up. She'd proudly show you as soon as Seelies out of sight. "And this is her 6th birthday" you cover your mouth "she's so cute!" "I know right!" She giggles to herself
She doesn't admit it, but she likes you treating her more than Natasha. Not that she doesn't like Natasha it's that if she knows it's not that bad, she's going to you with it. "Can't believe you got yourself hurt like this" you sigh, putting a bandage over her bicep. "Try not to fight too much k? Might open up the wound" you sigh. She likes the thought of you taking care of her she hides odvious blush on her face.
If you ever knew Sampo or someone she thought would do something bad to you that she knew personally. She'd quite litterally drag you away from them. You're just lucky you got to be held by the waist and not by the scruff, unlike one unlucky salesman.
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You beat him through sword fighting. He got butthurt, challenged you to a rematch, you jokingly flirt with him, he got flustered then realized he really liked you, thank god you confessed first because he would have evaporated
He's very light. Lightheaded and light on his feet. You don't hear him running up to you for hugs. "Y/n!" He rubs his cheeks against yours,"Yanqing! Where did you come from -"
If he ever caught you stretching in an open area he'd get so excited. "What cha stretching for?" He sneaks up behind you putting his hands on your shoulders. "Nothing just wanted to get out a bit" "mmmhh WANNA SWORD FIGHT?!" the idea suddenly pops in his head. "I ment I was going for a walk" "oh..." he looked so disappointed. "We can train next week if that makes you feel better" and just like that he's back to hugging you tightly shifting most of his weight onto you. "Yay! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" "Calm down its nothing"
Hell never admit he's cute. You could tell him how cute he is and he'd be all "I am a swordsman! Not a piece of mochi!" "But you squish like one!" He tries not to smile as you stretch and swish his cheeks. "You're so cute!" "I'm not!"
He's always next to you, so say he lost you somewhere he'd lose his shit. "So then I hit em with-" he'd notice you not next to him "AAAHHHHHHH" he shreaks like a little girl and runs around the store looking for you. It got so bad he had to ask people coming out of the bathrooms. "Have you seen my s/o?!? Pretty cute...Looks like they unironcally sleep with plushies" "no?" "Damn, thank you!" It turns out you were in the other aisle looking at a piece of clothing you wanted for a while and then looked at the price and noped out. He's holding back tears
You got hurt when you went out without him. You covered it up, but he could tell something was bothering you. You didn't usually limp a tad when walking. So when you two got outta the public eye he kinda tests you softly kicking where he thinks you're in pain. You try to hold in a hiss as he's proven correct. "So what happened while I was training?" "Don't know what your talking about I'm fine." "Uh huh-" he kicks you there again "AH FINE FINE I TRIPPED" you hold onto the rail overlooking the view trying not to step down on that leg. "Knew it, why didn't you tell me?" "Because you get overly dramatic and would probably trap me in blankets and oreos if I did"
"I wouldnt!" He did...as soon as you got home it was almost an ambush. He wrapped you in your blanket and reopened your oreos. "...I told you" "shush! Now lemme take care of you" he looks at your knee rubbing cream on it. He seems pretty focused. "I'm sure it isn't that bad-" "I'm sure it is" "your wrapping my foot like a mummy..."
He'd try to get into video games you like. He didn't like some of them and ended up deleting some, but he still saw how you enjoyed them. He also tries to get you into video games he likes as well. "Hey, I found this game we might like playing!" "...looks like something my grandma would play. " You open your phone, proceeding to show him your grandma flexing how far she got in the game. "Only took her 10 months...scared of that woman." "Me too"
He tries to initiate kisses. He'd cup your face and lean in, but sometimes he just can't bear going through with it. He usually kisses you without a second thought, but when he thinks too hard about it, everything kinda just crashes down in his brain, and he goes pink. "Uh-" he pauses in the middle of leaning in to kiss you swiftly, turning away. "Thought about it too hard again?" You kiss him.
He whenever you do his hair. He purposely messes up his own hair to walk over to you. "You mind if you do my hair?" "Yea, sure, lemme get a brush. " You grab a brush and calmly untangle his hair. "The same again?" You look over to him. "Kinda wanna see something new." "All right," you part his hair, trying to think of something that would fit him, figuring a bun wound work. You wrap up his hair and put it in a bun. You had him a mirror. "One of the strands is lose," he points at it. "It's on purpose," you smile at the mirror. He gets up, looking at his hairstyle again. "You mind...doing this more offen?"
935 notes · View notes
starysky1289 · 4 months
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Toxic!Soroity!Vanessa X Reader. Breakup
TW: Slight abuse, toxic relationship.
You laid in Vanessa’s arms, as she ran her fingers through your hair with one hand, talking on the phone with the other. Your head raced with the thoughts of the night before, Vanessa had gotten herself drunk and came into your dorm in a rage, yelling how you don’t respect her and you’d be better off dead. And now you lay in her arms, like nothing ever happened.
“ hey Bailey, I’ve gotta let you go, my girl needs attention..yeah I know. Yeah, see ya later “
Vanessa hung up, and wrapped her arms around you tighter, nuzzling into, like nothing ever happened. She was being so gentle, you could almost forget anything did happen, but, you knew she was just hungover.
“ mm..I love my girl…and she loves me, don’t you~? “
“ y-yeah..I do..”
She rolled you ontop of her, sitting you on her lap. She ran her fingers along your thighs, and up to your chest. She lifted up to kiss you, but you pulled back, glancing off.
“ baby..give me a kiss~ “
“ no. I want to talk to you. Not hung over. Just, text me when you’re sobered up. “
You got off her, glancing back at her for a moment. For a moment it looked like you could only see the compassion and love she had in her eyes when she was hung over, but you knew it would fade. You left the room and headed outside, walking down the streets towards the student center of your collage.
*~*
You put away the plate from your lunch, as your phone began to ring. Looking down, you could see it was Vanessa. You answered and held it up to your ear.
“ hello? “
“ Where are you. “
“ glad to hear youd sobered up “
You could hear Vanessa angrily muttering under her breath, before sighing.
“ babe, we’re are you. You wanted to talk, and I’m sober. “
“ I can come over to the house. I’ll be there in 10. “
“ fine..”
Vanessa quickly hung up. You rolled your eyes and made your way back towards the sorority house, it has white walls and pastel pink roofing, Vanessa had it repainted when she became president of the sorority.
You let yourself in, ignoring the few other girls in the house, making your way upstairs to Vanessa room
“ Vanessa. “
“ Y/N..cmere…what’s wrong “
Vanessa took a step towards you, opening her arms to embrace you. You longed to have her hold you, but you shook your head.
“ Vanessa…I don’t think we should..see eachother anymore…”
She froze, her eyes stared at you in disbelie, taking another step towards you. You pulled the scrunchie off your wrist, putting it in Vanessa hand.
“ I hope someone came love you one day, but it’s not me, Vanessa. “
“ Y-y/N this is a joke. Cmon just sit down, let’s talk this through”
You turned, heading towards the door, Vanessa lunged towards you, grabbing your wrists with one hand.
“ you can’t leave. You understand?? You’d be nothing without me, I’m making you liked! “
With a swift twist from your hands, you broke free, shaking your head.
“ I..I’d rather be nothing than be the something you’re making me..”
Vanessa grabbed you again, pinning you against the wall. Her breaths grew heavier, her icy blue eyes starring into you.
“ no, I’ll fix this. Your just tired, I haven’t been treating you well- “
“ you’ve never treated me well, Vanessa. “
“ NO. I’ll just, I’ll just fuck you. That always fixes it dosnt it? Cmon, you know you want me, you want my strap fucking you silly, you always want that. “
You twisted out of her grip, shoving her as you quickly made your way out of the room, and down the stairs.
“ Vanessa. We are over. “
You watched as she struggled for anything to get you to stay, a part of you wanted to stay, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You had a future, you knew she didn’t.
“ you’ll never sleep peacefully. I’ll find you, I’ll make sure you stay. YOUR MINE, Y/N, MINE. “
You turned, leaving without another word. You heard screams and thrashing as you left, your heart shattered. You were on your own, you couldn’t go back. But, atleast you’d be happy, you’d rebuild somewhere, and have a new life.
Vanessa was gone. For now.
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youcancallmemikuu · 2 months
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Sticky Mornings [^^]
Candy Obsessed! Yan x Baker! Darling
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You can hear the ring of a bell when someone opens your shop door, stopping you midway as you knead bread for another batch of your freshly baked goods.
“Just a minute!” You yell, going back to kneading the bread. Working in a bakery really is a workout. Kneading bread has to be one of the toughest things you’ve done, but after a while it eases up.
Once you finish kneading, you leave it for a few seconds to see what the customer wants. You’re unexpectedly met by the gaze of Caine, the candy shop owner just across the street.
“Why, hello there!~ I couldn’t help but notice many buying your pastries and wondered what goodies they are! May I have a dozen?~” He coos in his sultry voice, smiling widely.
“Oh! Of course!” You respond sweetly, smiling. His smile was wide and a bit unsettling, but you’ve seen a lot of creepy things in the time you’ve lived. He just wants a dozen pastries, nothing more, nothing less.
Right?
Wrong.
As he watches you pack away the pastries in a cutesy little box, he sighs in awe. Such a beauty you were. Such preciousness should be treasured. You hand him the box and receipt, and he lets out a chuckle.
“My dear, you have a bit of frosting on your cheek. Allow me..” His long skeletal fingers graze your cheek, before he pulls away. “There you are.” You see him lick his hand before humming and walking off.
“Bye bye my dear, thank you for the pastries!” He smiles to himself as he walks back across the street. “Such a sweet little thing..Their skin tastes like mint. Hm..that’s what I’ll call them. Minty~” He chuckles to himself as he open the door to his shop, stepping over a body.
Ever since that day, he’d visit your shop. He loved seeing your toothy smile and your messy hair, the way flour sprinkled across your apron, he loved how messy you were it was adorable!
Sometimes Caine would creep you out, but you’ve learned to deal with the creepiness. Seeing him smile widely at others while they try his candy became normal. Seeing him wave politely from across the street while carrying huge black bags became normal.
So of course, since he buys your pastries, you expect him almost every day. So when he didn’t come today..it worked you a little. You had a little box packed and everything! With his favorite pastel red too. You decide to bring it to his shop, why not?
When you open the door to his shop you’re met with the strong scent of rotting flesh. You gag a bit and set the pastries down on the counter. It looks..absolutely abandoned.
The bright colors and happy imagines of cartoon candy are littered across the walls to make it seem magical and whimsical, but it still had an underlying eerie feel to it. You slowly walk behind the counter and cover your nose with your hand.
“..Caine?” You call out, and hear a grunt before stifled laughter. You walk slowly into the back room, where all the candy is supposedly made. Your face pales as you see over a dozen bodies in a pile in one corner of the room, blood all over the floor and walls, organs in jars and paper sheets, supposedly the wrappers.
You then see Caine standing in the middle of the room, that same eerie smile on his face. “Darling!~ You just reminded me, I forgot to pick up my pastries!~” He walks closer to you, and you instantly step back.
He freezes, staring at you as his smile falters. “Darling, aren’t you going to give me my hug?” You shakily point to his suit, which is drenched in blood. He chuckles and sighs. “Ah yes, I forgot. The blood. Sticky stuff this is, very hard to get out of silk.” He holds up a finger.
“Just a second my dearest. Stay right here.” He begins to walk out, before coming back. “On second thought, you seem a bit uneasy with the bodies. Come with me, gumdrop.” He coos, taking you by tha hand.
Still in a state of shock, you follow slowly, your feet dragging as you walk. You had a deathly fear of blood and gore, and what you saw made you sick to your stomach.
“Now now love, let’s sit you down, you seem light headed.” He coos, setting you on a beanbag chair in his office. “Now, I’ll get cleaned up and you stay right here!” He smiled and left to a room on the left, leaving you with your thoughts.
What even was that? Was it real? Fake? Hallucinations? Drugs?? You had been sitting there for so long , Caine was almost done in the shower. I have to get out of here. You think to yourself, slowly getting up and wobbling to the door, the image of corpses fresh in your mind making you dizzy.
You feel a firm hand wrap around your waist and then pull you back, another on your wrist. “Now now darling, you wouldn’t want to leave me all alone, would you?~” He whispers into your ear, his grip tightening.
“You’re not leaving, my little gumdrop. You’re staying right here..and you’ll be here until you learn your place.” He whispers, his voice dripping with venom.
The last thing you remember before blacking out was his sultry voice whispering sweet nothing into your ear. When you awoke, you were in the beanbag chair again, next to Caine’s desk. Except you had a collar on. With a leash attached to it. And the leash held firmly by Caine himself as he sat at his desk and did his work.
You try moving away, but he only tugs you closer. He glances down at you and smirks. “You’ll get used to it, darling. You’ll have to.” He leans down and kisses your throat, just above the collar, making you squirm.
Oh you’ll get used to it.
He’s not letting you go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Caine is so hrrrnnggg— hope you enjoys!! :3
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hinasakuino · 7 months
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Do I wanna know?
Sommeil Masterlist Next Part
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Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! You will be blocked<3. Nanami kento x reader, MODERN AU, porn w/ plot, nipple play, vaginal sex, fem reader, pet names (Nanami refers to reader as Angel) 4.6k Words.
Written in 3rd person because I wanted to try something different. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I have had fun writing it!
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The interaction is so short she barely has time to process it. She does feel her face heat in embarrassment. She liked the compliment and the sound of his voice as he said her name. She covers her face and shakes her head, feeling giddy like a girl with a school crush. She’s inside her apartment now, music playing in the back while she finishes the final touch ups on the painting. She’s distracted, though; she wonders what he does when he’s in his apartment. Judging from his suit and briefcase, she assumes he works in some hot-shot corporate position. Suddenly, the music sounds too loud. She scrambles for her phone and turns the volume down just a little. She pauses, holds her breath, and listens. Of course, he doesn’t knock. She’s just hoping he comes over and knocks on her door, knowing damn well he probably went about the rest of the evening without a thought of her. She sighs and turns the music back up before tossing her phone to the side and swiveling in the stool to finish the last details on the canvas. 
 She knows her neighbor, well, she’s known she’s had a neighbor, but it’s not like they interacted daily. He was barely home. That much she knew. Staying in the city, she thought things would be different, and she’d have this fabulous life. Back home, she lived a routine life of working just to contribute to society. Funnily enough, she was well off from parents she never got to meet and raised by distant relatives who only provided for her because she was blood related. It sounds sad, even to her, as she thinks about her life, but they were the facts, and it’s not like she could change them. She shakes the thoughts away, returning to mixing white into the green so the pastel could match. She sighs, her mixing coming slowly. She dips the paintbrush into the paint, and right when she’s close to the canvas, she pauses, dropping her hand. She couldn’t help thinking that something spontaneous should have happened to her by now. Sure, there were things like graduating college, but working was voided with the newly acquired trust fund. She took art classes and even got to present her work in an art showcase. Okay, she thinks, that sounds like bragging.  But, still, as satisfying as it was to have people admire her art, it just didn’t feel like her moment. Shouldn’t she have had some big love story unfold for her? She looks at the door, thinking of her neighbor. Surely, there was more to that one interaction on the elevator, right?  She rolls her eyes. Now, she’s just being dramatic. She slams the palette down, dumping the brush in the water container beside her. She stands and grabs her phone and keys. She thinks that a walk would take her mind off her depressing life story. 
Luck must also be on her side because she sees him on the phone in a heated discussion as she turns the corner to enter the elevator. He sees her as well. He could have easily let the doors close, but he doesn’t. He nods his head to her as she steps in. She returns the gesture, about to press the button for the parking garage, but she sees he’s already pushed it. She feels that bubbly feeling in her stomach. She’s going to the convenience store in the parking garage; he could easily get in his car, and she’d have another missed opportunity to speak to him. She chews on the corner of her lip, thinking of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. She realizes it’s now silent, and she looks up. He’s already staring at her. She wonders when he got off the phone and looks away quickly, but he smiles, making her pause.
 “Y/n? Right?” he asks, and she nods, clearing her throat. Something stirred in her. The urge to say something poked at her.
“Going for an evening drive?” She asks in a surprisingly calm voice. He shakes his head no.
“Popping down for a drink, it’s the weekend, My first free weekend in,” he trails off to count, “a month. Huh?” he sounds impressed.
 She looks at him with a frown, and he chuckles. 
“Yeah, that’s the reaction I normally get,” 
“It’s just crazy, sorry. You should probably get some rest,” She says. She can’t help the hint of concern edging into her tone. 
“What about you? A walk to clear your mind?” He assesses her outfit, leggings and a hoodie, her go-to cozy outfit. She can feel heat warming in her face. When he first saw her this evening, she was struggling to get her new haul of art supplies in the elevator. She dropped a box and sent pencils flying everywhere. Without hesitation, Nanami had helped her gather them before exchanging formalities, and then they went their separate ways. It was such a simple interaction, and suddenly, he consumed her mind. 
“I’m just going downstairs to get some snacks. I uh c-can’t seem to finish this last piece. I paint,” She says, flashing her hand, there’s specks of paint covering her hand from her attempt at finishing earlier. 
He nods in silence, and then the elevator dings. Nanami steps to the side to let her step out first. She smiles graciously. She wishes there was more to say, but he scoops up a basket and waves, once again, going in the opposite direction. 
*****
The rest of the night is uneventful. She goes back to her apartment. All thoughts regarding the painting were thrown out of the window. She grabbed her remote and decided to watch a show instead. It was Friday, so she had all weekend to finish.  
Later, she gets ready for bed, but sleep doesn’t find her. An ache sets into her skull. She sighed and tossed over for the fourth time. Sleep was always like this for her. She remembers the first time she experienced restlessness. 
It’s one of the reasons she pulls frequent all-nighters when she works on projects. But she was damn near finished, so why was sleep so hard to come by tonight? She sighed and turned to lie on her back. The bedding was cool, her ceiling fan blew cool air across her skin, and the control chains scraped lightly against the light, creating small white noises that usually lulled her into sleep. 
Tonight, it was irritating. She grits her teeth and rolls over, now facing the window. When she was younger, she remembers being able to reach others’ dreams. It sounds bizarre even to herself, but she remembers so vividly going from one dream to another; She hasn’t tried that trick in so long. It started when she was in grade school. She always hated sleepovers because of the strange power. When she was a teen, she tried to do more research on it but only came across a couple of stories that always ended in tragedy. She stopped traveling to dreams when she graduated college and moved to the city. She assumed it was because no one ever slept. There was always a club or an after party to the after party.  Nights like this make her wonder who her parents were and if they had this strange curse. Her heart suddenly aches, longing for comfort that will never come. 
 She goes to sit up but feels like she’s being restrained. She gasps, and her eyes snap open. She looks around the room, and it is dark, but she’s not alone. She feels the weight of muscles thrown across her abdomen and looks down for confirmation that someone is definitely holding her. The owner of the arm pulls her closer and nuzzles into the back of her neck. 
 “You’re up early,” He comments. She doesn’t say anything. Her hand tugs at the arm around her, alarm ringing through her.
“Angel?” He asks, pressing a wet kiss to her exposed neck. The feeling makes her shiver. She should be scared. Instead, she feels relaxed. He chuckles, humming a sweet tune, repeating the same action of kissing her neck. She hesitates before turning over and facing her lover. Though it’s dark, there’s no mistaking it. Nanami looks down at her with a lazy grin that warms her heart. 
She’s silent as he watches her, with curiosity brimming in his eyes. She can feel herself smiling back at him, but she has so many questions. For starters, why, of all times, did the dream travel work? And why did it have to be his dream? It’s an intimate setting that she would have backed out of had she sensed it, but even now, wrapped in him she felt like she couldn’t do anything but accept his affections.
“You caught me,” She speaks. Her voice sounds different, she thinks to herself. Sultry and velvety, unlike the croaky mess it usually is in the morning. He smiles again, and her stomach feels like it’s doing flips from the way he looks at her. She leans into him, testing the waters, wondering if he’d remember this dream at all.  He inhales sharply when their lips meet. She pulls back but is surprised when he grabs her chin, directing her lips back to him. He kisses her as if his life depends on it, like she will slip through his fingers at any moment. It makes her heart flip. She kisses back just as passionately, nipping at his lip. He gasps, and she wastes no time sliding her tongue against his; he moans in surprise, and his hand leaves her chin. He trails his fingers up her back, warmth blossoms in the caresses he makes, and she whines. 
A part of her feels guilty; this is her neighbor, his dream, and she was being invasive in participating in it. But how could she back out when he touched her like that? She gasps when his hands knead the fat of her ass, bringing her closer to him.
“Fuck” He huffs out. He pulls back to look at her. She shivers again, and her leg hikes up on his hip, pulling him closer.
“How’d I get so lucky, Angel?” He whispers as he traces the outline of his features with his fingertip, and she can only sit and inhale slowly as it happens. 
“I’m the lucky one,” She replies, kissing the tip of his pointer finger when he touches her lips. 
 He groans when she wraps her lips around the tip of his finger. Her mouth is hot and wet, making him close his eyes and steady his breathing. 
“You’re trouble,” He mumbles, pulling her closer to kiss her again. This time, it’s soft. He’s taking his time exploring her mouth while his hand roams her body. He grabs her throat lightly, holding her in place as he ruins her. His hands were so large and warm, groping her breast, he settled on pinching and rolling her nipples. He loves how she responds to his touch, her body jerking in every way as he continues teasing her. 
“Want you,” She whispers. She strokes her fingers through his hair, letting her nails rake his scalp. Now it’s his turn to pant and grunt, rutting into her. She chuckles at his reaction, repeating the motion of gripping and releasing his hair. He curses under his breath, hand going to her hip and grinds into her. She whines now. The teasing makes her pussy grow wet with slick. She can feel it making a mess on her cunt with every slide of his cock.
“You have me, angel. I’m yours,” he moans, and it’s such a magnificent sound. She bucks her lower half into him, unable to control herself now, gasping when she feels him hard and throbbing near her entrance. She tentatively reaches between them, her touch featherlight as she slowly jerks his dick in an upward motion. 
“Fuck, angel,” He whispers, throwing the blanket that covered them to the side. Without the safety of the blanket, she realizes she’s stark naked. She looks up at him shyly through her lashes. Nanami cups her face. He kisses her slowly, barely able to do that with how she’s still jerking his cock. 
“Do you like it?” She asks breathlessly when he breaks the kiss, and he nods, wrapping his arms around her middle. He rolls to lie on his back and has her on top. She stays close, her hair trickling in his face as she leans in to steal a kiss. His hands massage the globes of her ass, rolling them in circles while he grinds against her wet slit. She whines again when the head of his dick presses slowly into her. 
“Please,” she whispers against his lips. It’s all the confirmation he needs before he lifts his hips. She’s so wet he practically slips in, and they both gasp when he’s bottomed out. He trails a hand up her curves, and she sighs. Sitting up, she swivels her hips in a circular motion, gasping when she feels his hands on her ass. He flips them over suddenly so that she’s resting against the pillows again. She gasps, and he chuckles huskily at her reaction. He slips out of her in the process and unconsciously begins rutting into the space between her thighs with an urgency that excites her.
 “Wait,” he mumbles when she eagerly reaches for his cock. He pushes her hands out of the way and strokes his cock once before tapping the head of it against her clit. The motion sends a wave of pleasure rippling through her, and she has to bite her lip to hold back a moan. He does it again, this time rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slit. 
 “Wanted to see the pretty faces you make while I fuck you,” he says before pushing into her velvet walls. Her back arches off the bed, pressing her exposed tits to his chest as if begging to be touched again. Nanami leans his head down to roll a nipple into his mouth. He pushes the flat of his tongue across the pert bud and then sucks it in and bites down hard. The shock of pain makes her yelp, followed quickly by a moan as his other hand squeezes her other nipple, quelling the pain. He thrust forward, hard and slow, and she felt like she would explode. 
 “It feels so good,” She pants when he pulls out. He smirks at her when her eyes flutter close, her mouth opens in a soft gasp, and she throws her head to the side. Namani takes advantage and leaves open mouthed kisses against her neck. She grabs hold of his bicep, mewling when he thrusts in again. She relishes the way he lifts her hips now to meet his thrust; it feels impossibly good she’s not sure what to focus on.
“Oh fuck, you’re squeezing me,” He mumbles, looking down at where they’re joined. He grabs her legs and lifts them on his shoulder. She moans aloud at the new angle, trying to meet his thrust the best she could. 
“ ‘m close,” She pants out, and her hand trails down her body to rub circles on her clit. Watching her bring herself to pleasure, he slows down, loves how her pussy sucks him back in so easily. He can feel how she flutters around him and knows she’s close.
“Fuck look at you; you’re soaking me,” He groans, her fingers moving clumsily on her clit, “Poor thing, you want it so bad. Here, let me help you,” He pushes her hand out of the way and brings it to his mouth, licking messily at the liquid on her fingers. She curses at the action. The way his tongue flicks over her fingers is sinful, and the image alone is enough to make her come undone. Her breath hitches as he fucks into her slowly, he uses her fingers to rub precise circles on her clit, and she feels herself getting wetter.
“ ‘m gonna cum,” She can barely get her words out now; she’s writhing, hips bucking upward as he picks up his pace. He fucks into her with reckless abandon, his abs flexing, and she feels the jump of his cock and knows he’s closer.  She pulls him down for a quick brush of her lips, and then he’s pounding into that sweet spot that makes her gush, and she knows she’s cumming
“Oh! Right there!” She shouts, holding him by the neck, holding him in place so that their foreheads touch. It’s so intimate, she thinks, the way that he whispers sweet nothings to her as the world shatters around her. She has to squeeze her eyes shut and focus on her breathing to calm herself down. He cums shortly afterward, pulling out of her; He jerks once and then twice, letting his cum splatter across her belly in hot spurts. He thrusts in again, letting her warmth engulf his sensitive cock. When he’s done, he removes her legs from his shoulders. He leans forward and kisses her slowly, and his cock twitches inside her. 
 “Let’s get some rest,” He huffs, slowly pulling out of her. He inhales sharply, and she whimpers at the loss, but she doesn’t protest; she just lets him continue running his nose against the crook of her neck and whispering how perfect she is. She wefts her fingers through his hair, holding him close until her eyes feel heavy and she feels like she’s drifting.
She rolls over in bed. Her vision is blurry as she tries to read the time from the bedside table. The sunlight is blinding, but it’s only a little past 9 in the morning. She half expects to be in bed with someone, but when she looks around her room, it’s the same cluttered space with clothes littering the floor. She sighs and rubs her eyes, trying to recall the dream. She turns over, away from the sunlight, and touches her lips. Had it all truly been a dream? Does that mean her method still works? She wasn’t tired, so it must have right?  She thought to herself. She wants to ponder more about the dream, but there’s a knock at her door, and she groans, throwing the cover off her body as she stands. She stretched, popping her bones as she crossed the apartment. Her mind feels like it’s rebooting as she stumbles into the wall leading into her living room. She curses when she stubs her toe and hops the rest of the way. The knocking starts again, this time more rapidly.
“I’m coming, jeez,” She yells out, unlocking the door and snatching it open. Her eyes grow wide in shock at the blonde standing before her. He looks disheveled and is dressed in sweats and a white shirt. The dream comes rushing back to her. The way his lips felt against her skin, the way he caressed her body, and the way he made her see stars all come crashing into her. She licks her lips, but it doesn’t help; they still feel dry, and her throat feels drier.
“Sorry, the delivery guy got it wrong,” He says when she doesn’t speak, he stretches his arms out to her, a medium sized box in his hands, and she accepts the package, nearly dropping it. 
“Thank you. Sorry, I just woke up,” She says apologetically. He doesn’t say anything. He simply nods and turns to enter his apartment. 
 She closes the door wordlessly and puts the box on the counter. She runs straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, uncaps it, and downs it. She stares at the door, mind running a mile a minute. Did he know? She stares at the door. Was it really his dream, or was she that touch-deprived that she dreamed her neighbor fucked her silly? She tiptoes to the door, peering through the peephole. She knows he won’t come out, but she can’t help looking through, making sure he didn’t come back.
 She sucks in a deep breath before turning around to slide down the door. Okay, so she wasn’t figured out. Relief washed through her. She makes a mental note to sleep early tonight to avoid an accidental visit. Her eyes land on the painting, and she groans. She was so caught up in her head that she had forgotten about finishing the painting. With that on her mind, she stalks over to the bathroom to rush through her morning routine. She returns to the kitchen phone in hand, selecting today’s playlist. With the music flowing, she makes a quick breakfast of toast and a banana and then throws herself into work.
 *****
Kento Nanami woke up this morning feeling well rested. That wasn’t a problem. He needed the sleep, lord knows when the last time he had actually gotten a decent night of sleep. He yawns and looks at his bed as he exits the bathroom. He was far from lazy, but he occasionally loved to sleep in past noon, especially if work was hell during the week. He scratches his shoulder absentmindedly, his mind going back to his dream last night. The way her nails dug into his biceps when he entered her. He rubbed his arm; it wasn’t real, but he swore he felt it. Kento sighs, dropping his arm. He looks down at his bottoms, his dick rising from the memory. He could just take care of his morning wood and forget about it all, but something in his mind bugged him. He seems to remember everything except for his dream lover’s face. He frowns. He knows it’s wrong to feel sad because it was just a dream, but he remembers staring into her eyes and kissing her so sweetly. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. He thinks. He inspects his room, nothing out of place. He wants to shrug the whole thing off and forget it ever happened because, quite frankly, admitting that he had a wet dream at his big age was sort of embarrassing. He chalks it up to just that and leaves the bedroom to make breakfast.
* a week later *
 She’s slept like shit all week. She yawns as she scrolls through her email. It’s the middle of the day. Of course, she’d get sleepy now, She thinks to herself, suppressing a yawn. With her project out of the way, y/n had a free week, which she would normally spend sleeping, but she couldn't sleep, so she posted her commissions link online, and already her email was filled with requests from all over. She favorites several emails from galleries asking for her to send some pieces for display. She wants to participate in another showcase soon but needs a new project to keep her mind off of Nanami. She yawns and shakes her head, trying to fight the sleep. She checks the time and groans. It's 4 in the afternoon. If she can stay up a couple of more hours, she’s sure she can finally go to bed and sleep through the night. 
She hadn’t stopped thinking of Nanami. She saw him on her way to drop off the painting to her client, and he saw, even complimenting the work. Outside of that, she didn’t interact with him, nor has she traveled to his dreams. It’s not like she tried. Well, okay, she tried immediately the next day and failed. She failed to visit Nanami’s dream but successfully wandered into her downstairs neighbor’s dream. It wasn’t anything fancy, quite sad, really. The poor guy dreamt of hitting the lottery, but when it was time to present the ticket, he couldn’t find it. She chuckles and cuts herself off, yawning.
It proves futile to stay up; her head rocks forward, and then she jumps. It was now a quarter past four. She sighed in defeat.  She shuts the laptop with a yawn; she lies on her couch, falling asleep quickly. 
  She dreams she’s walking in darkness, and then she stumbles and falls. She doesn’t hit the ground like she thought. Instead, she finds herself sitting in a dimly lit room. The sun is low but still bright enough to light up the area. She recognizes the black and gold decorations almost immediately. Her heartbeat quickens; She knows he’s here. She can feel his eyes on her.
“You’re awake,” Nanami speaks softly. She whirls around; he’s got a book in his lap. He tosses it to the side and ushers her forward when she meets his eyes. She goes to him wordlessly, seating herself on his lap. He grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer. She wants to kiss him badly, but his grip on her keeps her in place. She whines at this, and he swats her ass in warning. 
 “Patience, Angel,” he murmurs. He studies her face, and for a minute, she feels like she’s not dreaming and he’s staring at her. Then he leans in, capturing her lips in the sweetest way, making her sigh into the kiss. He doesn’t take it further; he just stares at her curiously. 
“What’s the matter?” she asks, worrying her lips between her teeth. He thumbs her bottom lip and rubs his thumb across it. 
“Nothing, I just feel like I’ve seen you somewhere. Like Deja vu,” he says. She stills in his lap, and he pulls her close, rubbing soothing circles into her back so she can relax. 
“I’m sure I’m just making you up anyway. I know I’m dreaming, but you, I know you’re real,” He says matter of factly. Her eyes widen in surprise.
“I”m n-not sure I know what you mean,” She says. She sits up far too quickly for someone who’s trying to be casual. Nanami doesn’t stop her as she slides away from him. He does watch as she walks to the window, her arms wrapping around herself. 
“What’s wrong?” He asks. 
She sighs, “I feel like I should apologize,” 
He frowns, “What for?” 
“The other day, when we uh…yanno?” She doesn’t turn around, but she hears him move. He’s behind her instantly, his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her to his chest. 
“You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should apologize to you. I don’t know if it’s offensive just to do what we did and not follow up?” He says it like a question, and she giggles. 
“What are you talking about? How could you call me up?” She questions. He shrugs. 
“I don’t know, but I did it today. I must’ve fallen asleep at my desk or something. You’ve been on my mind all week. I was thinking of you as I was finishing up paperwork and must have, I don't know, dream rang you?” He says it jokingly, but it scares her.
She freezes in his arms. Her brain felt foggy most of the day, and she blamed that on not sleeping the night before, but now she wonders if he had anything to do with him.
“Sorry, that probably sounded weird,” He says apologetically. 
“No, it’s okay, I just, I don’t know what to say,” She mumbles. He nods in agreement, 
“Well, what do I call you? You got a name?” He asks. It could be so easy for her just to let her name slip and let him know who she really is, but she doesn’t do it. She opens her mouth before closing it, averting her eyes when he raises a brow at her. 
“Angel? Should I just call you Angel?” He asks. And she’s quick to nod her head. Relief washed over her. 
“What’s your name?” She blurts out. He chuckles and holds her close. 
“You can call me Ken,” He whispers in her ear. Her legs buckle, and he catches her, laughing at her reaction. He begins swaying with her, humming under his breath. His hands slide to her lower back, resting just above her ass.
“So Angel, what will I do with you tonight?”
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