#the thing about my hair is that it is NOT easy to cut

[highvern]

Houdini

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut, hint of fluff at the end

warnings: drinking, allusion to drug use, sub hoshi likes when reader is mean to him, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex, reader calls hoshi a furry more than once, cumshot, hair pulling, reader wears bunny ears

Length: ~5.3k

Note: this started as a prologue to a different fic but i wanted it to become its own fic. danke @gyuswhore for being my torture subject as always as well as @onlyhuis @temptaetions @cheolism

Summary: The guy wearing a tiger onesie and ripping a bong in the corner might not be the most promising prospect of the night. But you've got a point to prove and a bet to win.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The cramped living room is hazy with the smell of pot, cut by cheap led strip lights painting everything in violets and blues. Butt numb from the stiff armrest of the couch, you adjust the bunny ears on your head for the fifth time in the twenty minutes you’ve sat there.

Everyone else skitters around, dressed as different animals. More bunnies, a few cats, a guy dressed like a dinosaur hogging a joint. It’s someone’s birthday; a friend of a friend you’ve never met, but the promise of free alcohol before heading downtown isn’t even close to the worst way to spend your time. It’s why you fished out the dumb satin bunny ears from your closet; a relic from Halloweens past when you needed a cheap excuse to wear something scandalous in public with little judgment. 

June disappeared thirty minutes ago to find the birthday boy, leaving your entire group to mingle until she returns. 

You intently listen as Lily vents about her work crush for the nth time. His name is of no relevance, but she’s convinced herself it's love despite the fact he possesses fewer brain cells than a rock. A proven fact since he didn’t know the difference between consonants and vowels despite being well into his twenties.

“Why all the talk about relationships?” you interrupt. “Can we please have one night where we don’t talk about guys.”

“Some of us want boyfriends.” Anna rolls her eyes. 

“And yet, you can find one hundred percent of the benefits of one with zero effort. At least without all the mind games you two go through every week.”

“Easy for you to say.” Anna argues. “You’re like the poster girl for no-commitment sex.”

“I like what I like,” you shrug. “Not guys that say they want a relationship and then claim you're moving too fast when you ask him to treat you like a person.”

Lily gives an exasperated groan to the ceiling. “We get it. You hate romance.”

“I don’t hate it. I just like to be realistic. Most guys are good for one thing and I happen to admire them for that.”

“Do you realistically think you can get any guy here to sleep with you?” Anna asks. 

Any guy is a stretch. You’re easy but not without standards. Taken men are strictly off the menu. Along with weirdos or guys that look like they’ve never seen the inside of a shower. Anyone looking for a relationship typically removes themself from the running after figuring out you aren’t looking to be saved or changed, just a warm body that’s easy on the eyes.

“Pick anyone and if I pull him you owe me breakfast tomorrow.” You challenge them with a smirk. It’s slim pickings so early in the night, but nothing you can’t work with.

“Okay, then.” Lily agrees. “What about him?”

It takes you a moment to decipher who her manicured finger is pointing at. There's a small crowd in the corner of the room, guys too scared to mingle or uninterested in anything beyond their circle jerk. But he’s easy to spot; a tiger onesie and a dark crop of hair are all the details you get from this far away.

He seems to be the main entertainer of the bubble. Hands fly in different directions, chaotic but graceful. Now that you’re locked onto him, the boom of his voice floats under the heavy music. Tiger guy isn't your usual type. He’s lithe and lean; maybe a dancer or something athletic. You like them tall and domineering. It makes it that much sweeter when they try to dominate you, only to be beaten at their own game. Mingyu wasn’t your A-list fuck buddy for no reason. A damn shame he moved away at the end of last year.

But the man Lily’s picked will do what you need him to; prove a point and grant you a free meal. If you get at least one orgasm out of it then that’ll be a bonus. Chugging the last of your drink (which smells like nail polish remover and paint thinner had a very toxic baby), you drop the empty cup into Anna’s hand.

“And we want proof!” Anna calls as you stalk toward the far wall.

One of the other guys he’s talking to sees you approach, and you watch the way his eyes convey your presence, nearly bugging out of his skull. A gentle tap on tiger guy’s shoulder has him turning to greet you.

Confusion clouds his face. He’s cuter than you expected, with furrowed eyebrows and a pout that draws your eyes to his mouth with curiosity. You’ll find out their talents soon enough. 

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi?” he parrots.

“I’m Y/N.” Eyes round with faux innocence, you make a point to take a few seconds staring at his mouth before meeting his curious gaze.

“Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung. The name rolls along your tongue easily. You light up at the way his eyes follow the curve of your mouth around the sound. It’s too easy.

Pushing forward, chest to chest; raising on your toes. You relish in another shiver at the brush of your mouth against his ear. “Is this your party?”

“Yeah, it’s my roommate’s birthday,” he says.

So that’s who June knows. 

“Cool. Wanna show me your room?”

“What?” You can hear the record scratch in Soonyoung’s brain; see the disbelief in his eyes.

Stepping into his space, your gaze burns a path from his lips to his eyes before you repeat, “your room?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can…definitely do that. This way!”

His own friends, still circled in the corner, gape in their own disbelief. Soonyoung has you charging through the crowded living room and down the hallway. Good. Even more bodies fill the narrow space but he nearly pushes them aside, waving off any grunts of discontent at his roughness.

You pass several doors on each side, all closed from prying eyes but you don’t have an interest anyway. His room is at the end of the long passage. A whiteboard with a crude image of a tiger and a rainbow hangs at eye level, coupled with ‘TamTam + Hoshi 5ever’ but you don’t have time to admire the art before you’re inside.

“So, this is it,” Soonyoung announces, hands wringing in front of his chest nervously. 

The tiger thing isn’t so much a coincidence and more of a theme. A poster of a tiger hangs on the wall above the dresser. But it’s not the worst of it. His bed hosts several plushies, all different sizes and shapes but certainly tigers. 

Whipping around, you eye him with incredulity. “Are you a fucking furry?”

“No!” He shakes like a bobblehead. Like he’s had to explain it dozens of times before. “It’s a joke! From college, with my friends.”

“A joke where you collect tiger memorabilia as a grown man?” You shoot back.

“It’s not that bad.”

Eyebrows flying to your hair line, you make a sweep of the room. “You have a framed picture of a tiger, are wearing a tiger suit, and have a miniature army of stuffed animals.” 

“Okay, maybe it is that bad, but I’m not a furry.”

If he was hiding more of the garish pattern out of sight you wouldn’t be surprised. For good measure, you fold over the blanket of his bed and sigh relief to find navy sheets instead of orange. You’ve slept with weirder guys for less but it’s nice to know he isn’t that weird.

“Whatever you say. But if you ask me to wear a tail, I’ll walk back out there and tell everyone.”

You peel your shirt off without another word. Once your vision is free of the fabric, you’re met with a starstruck man — mouth open, eyes skimming your chest, and what seems to be a half-chub tenting his pants. You revel in the silent awe rolling off him, preening at the attention. So easy.

But Soonyoung seems to come to his senses when you start working on the zipper holding together the back of your skirt shut.

“Woah, okay. We don’t have to go so fast,” he says, taking a step in your direction.

“So I should put my shirt back on?” You make for it like the threat is real.

“Let’s not be too hasty! I’m just saying, maybe we should, like, talk a bit first?”

Your feet carry you until there’s barely a breath between his body and your own. Soonyoung’s shirt brushes against your naked stomach with each stuttered breath as you eye his lips. “Well, do you wanna talk or do you want your dick sucked? Because I can only do one at a time.”

“Definitely the second one,” Soonyoung starts, dipping his hands to your ass for a harsh squeeze while shepherding you to his bed.

His mouth tastes like smoke and need. A disgusting combination if not for your tipsy brain easily ignoring it in favor of focusing on the roughness of his touch.

Soonyoung is eager, to say the least. He can’t touch you fast enough; hands darting from your ass, to your sides, to your breasts, and back down again. If this was happening at your apartment you’d tie him down and refuse to let him feel anything at all just to watch him squirm. 

You manage to flip him under you, pinning him in place with your thighs to rest across his lap like a throne. Taking the change in stride, he uses the new angle to mouth over your bra; sucking harshly at your covered nipples till they stiffen for his fingers to pinch at.

“Condoms?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. 

Digging the heel of your hand into his forehead successfully unlatches the suction around your nipple.  He pouts at the interruption.

“You don’t have condoms?”

“I do, but I’m not about to fuck you after two seconds of making out,” Soonyoung argues. “I‘m not even hard yet.”

Shocked by the sudden attitude, you huff before rolling your hips down. You're met with a familiar lump pressing into the crotch of your pants, and Soonyoung has the nerve to simply return to his previous task as you rock against him again.

“Liar,” you pant after a delicious drag of his teeth on your collarbone and his cock against your ass.

You stay locked like that for a while, writhing against one another as clothes come off without abandon. Your bra first, then the damn tiger onesie. Soonyoung gets you on your back before flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side, revealing your drenched center.

He sucks a bruise on your nipple, tongue messy as he explores what’s between your legs with a gentle stroke of his fingers.

“Can I go down on you? Please say yes.” Soonyoung traces the request across your chest with more nips of his teeth. 

“You have to ask?”

“Consent is sexy.”

“You sound like a PSA,” you comment. “But, yeah go ahead.”

Your hips lift to aid in removing the last scraps of clothing. There’s no shyness as you spread your legs wide, flashing the aftermath of a good make-out session for Soonyoung eyes only.

“Oh my god,” he moans.

The heat of his breath fans across your folds, sending a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t even blink as you clench from the aching need to be filled with whatever he’s ready to offer,

“What?”

“This is gonna make me sound weird again, but you have a really pretty pussy.”

Not something any previous partners have chosen to comment on, but you preen under the compliment. “Thanks.”

“No. Thank you,” Soonyoung says before looking at the ceiling. “God, thank you so much for blessing me like this.” 

“Stop being lame or I'll leave.” 

“Sorry, you’re hot.” He says it like an accusation. “Just wanted to let the universe know I recognize that and appreciate it.” 

“How about you recognize the fact I’m drying up as we speak?” 

“No you aren’t,” Soonyoung argues. “You’re dripping on my sheets.” 

Your hand skates across your front, falling between your thighs. Like hypnosis, he watches with rapt attention as you frame your clit between two fingers, giving a clear target for his attention. 

“Then do something about it.”

With a hand fisted in his hair, he does. An aggressive suck against your clit without warm-up sends a tremor through your core. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting until he’s forced away from your cunt with a petulant frown. 

“If you keep licking my clit like a scratch off I will make you cry.” A jostle of the bed tells how effective your words are. “Oh my god. Did you just?” 

“I’ve never been threatened in bed before, okay? I'm just as shocked as you.”

He hides the embarrassment by wedging back between your thighs, gentler than before, lapping away the new flood of arousal from his responsiveness. A thrill hums down your spine and settles where Soonyoung’s mouth returns to work. His shoulders burn hot against the underside of your thighs, every surge of muscle rocking you back into the slick of his tongue. 

“Fuck.”

“Better?” he asks around a mouth full of pussy.

There might very well be a crowd at the door listening to every lewd squelch and pathetic whine, but you don’t care. A little direction, a grind of your hips when he does well and the sting of your nails when he gets ahead of himself does wonders. Soonyoung is eager to please and impress. You could probably lay here for an hour without a complaint for him; if anything, he’d actively encourage such indulgence if it meant your approval. 

It makes the temptation to overwhelm him too sweet to ignore. 

One of the hands flat against your stomach falls away easily, knotting his fingers through yours because of course he’d be the type to hold hands during sex. It’s cute, but that fondness is stomped down for something safer. 

Like sucking two fingers between your lips like it's his cock.

Soonyoung grunts frustration straight into your core, refusing to watch you wet his hand even when you moan at the prod against the back of your throat. Another hump against the mattress as an edge of teeth drags over his knuckles. 

You can’t help but laugh as he scrambles to stretch you across them. He curls one slowly, like you’ll object. When you don't, Soonyoung adds the other and resettles your thigh so he can watch them disappear inside. His knuckles return even more soaked and even you can’t pretend it isn’t a turn-on. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Before you can respond, he’s licking away the fresh wave of wetness from his praise. It isn’t new information, but Soonyoung is impossibly earnest and you’re pretty sure if he came from eating you out he’d be just as satisfied as if you fucked him.

“Gimme a third.”

Soonyoung moans like he’s the one getting off as he does what you ask. 

Your legs lock, sore at the hips from being dragged to the edge so quickly. It bubbles just under the surface. Too far away where you can’t reach it but know Soonyoung can. He knows it too by the way you whisper his name. 

“If you touch yourself right now will you cum?” 

“Probably.” 

“Good.” You're overeager, just like the man between your legs, but the idea he can get off from eating you out can’t be ignored. “Show me.” 

“If you make me cum twice tonight I will talk to my therapist about you, so no.”

You whine a protest. Something that would sound far more responsible falling from his lips in the established dynamic, but you don’t care. One of your feet wedges between the bed and his crotch, toeing along the bulge still hidden behind a pair of thin boxers.

“Is it not enough that I might cum from you insulting me, you have to see it happen?” He asks. 

The picture behind your eyelids is nothing short of demonic; pulling Soonyoung’s boxers down and the inside sticky with cum, but his cock still hard because once is definitely not enough. Or streaks of white coating his chest and thighs, the perfect trail to trace your tongue over. 

You don’t even have a chance to share the fantasy before he splits you on his tongue again. Firmer this time, with a hard press to your knees that has you vulnerable and exposed. He keeps his tongue flat and heavy on your clit. Perfect to grind up against until you shudder.

Since you can’t get Soonyoung to give in, you settle for ruining any future encounter he might have by making a show.

Your fingers tickle up your stomach, nails raising goosebumps at the soft touch. Back and forth and back and forth, a little higher each time until you catch the hill of your chests and circle the hard peaks. There's no reason to ease into it, not when you sneak a glance down and find a pair of brown eyes framed between your legs.

The way he watches makes you feel dirty. Nipples pebbled between your fingers, you arch into his next move. His tongue stays flat for you to use. You curl into it, humping Soonyoung’s face like he’s nothing more than a toy to get off on. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” 

He’s definitely slipped a fourth finger inside. The stretch borders just on the edge of pain but you take it in stride. Soonyoung looks like he might cum before you do. 

“I’m – oh. Just like that.” You groan deep from your core. 

Your clit is throbbing with sensitivity as he continues to coax pleased sounds from your tongue. Heating from the inside out, your hands abandoned the torture on your chest in favor of keeping Soonyoung in place so you can rut against him.

A switch flips with your next moan. Hands on your stomach, your breasts, shoving your thighs out of the way as he digs into your cunt like the best meal the world will know. 

“Cum for me. Please let me see you come,” Soonyoung begs. 

Fizzling out, you do what he asks. Your stomach tenses for a second and then you fly off the mattress from locked muscles. 

Soonyoung doesn’t stop as you twitch, nor when you kick an ankle into his side. Maybe you go a little wet at the eyes as he forces you straight into a second orgasm without an ounce of reprieve but it's probably coincidence.

Soonyoung finally moves away at an inhuman whine. His mouth is stained with the taste of you, but he wears it well. It almost makes you want to push him back down and see if you can survive a third orgasm.

To stop from blindly following temptation, you roll until you’re sat in his lap. You must look as disheveled as you feel; sweaty and strung out. Ready for more.

“Wait,” he sighs with the pain of a man delaying his own gratification. “Wear these.”

The wrinkled satin bunny ears knocked from your head earlier come back into view. Soonyoung doesn’t  even pretend to be ashamed as he plants them back on your head before finding the dip of your waist again.

You hate the idea of giving in so easily, but Soonyoung’s need rolls off him in thick waves feeding straight to your ego.  “Oh, but you’re not a furry?” 

His cock fits well against the curl of your fingers as you stroke him, standing tall and proud from his lap. Oddly enough, you get his earlier sentiment. You’ve never thought of a dick as pretty but Soonyoung’s is nice. Red and leaking at the tip, you’re tempted to duck your chin and get a taste, but Soonyoung drags you up to his mouth before you can even make a good faith try.

“Stop being mean to me or I’ll bust a nut,” he whines.

“Can’t have that,” you snicker. “Condoms?”

“Drawer.”

The door slams open in your haste. It’s a mess of lube, sex toys, and random chargers. Who keeps a phone charger where their lube is? Too eager for the promise of such a pliable partner doesn’t leave with an interest in asking, and the way he continues to suck at your throat isn’t helping. Until you find something that stokes your curiosity even more.

“Soonyoung. What are these?” 

A set of fuzzy tiger print cuffs dangle from your fingers. The jokes write themselves. But you ignore the re-occurrence of orange and black because you really want to know if he likes bondage. (Hopefully it’s a yes. Even more hopeful is he likes to be on the receiving end.)

“Birthday present.”

“Your friends are weird,” you say. “Have you used them?”

He looks shy, like he hasn’t just asked you to don animal ears and ride him into the mattress. Handcuffs are nothing in comparison but you wait out the nerves flashing on his face. “Maybe.”

“On who?”

“Umm…”

“Have you been handcuffed?” 

Do you want to be? The idea is just another fantasy you’ll think about later in the dark of your room when you need a quick way to get off. 

“No.”

“Lame,” you tease before tossing them to the floor and shoving a foil packet into his chest.

Soonyoung’s ability to multitask is nonexistent. Not when your nipping his ear lobe and whispering how bad you want him to fuck you; how you can’t wait to feel him inside you; how big his dick is. Perfect flattery that makes him whine and fumble the condom over and over again until you grant clemency and do it yourself.

His hands are rough against your ass as you slip him inside, slow because you want him to suffer just a little bit. Your thighs scream in protest at the angle but Soonyoung looks at you like he’s watching a miracle unfold and the discomfort is more than worth it.

If there was time, you’d let him fuck you from behind just to see how he’d fair with such a visual, but this is already dragging out too long. Soonyoung looks like he needs more time to adjust to the way he’s digging in your walls than you do. So you keep theme and start bouncing on his cock just to watch him go insane.

“God,” he grunts, neck strained and a vein rising on his forehead. “You’re fucking tight. Shit.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in focus. “Keep talking. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels amazing, oh my god. You’re so wet.”

Your pelvis tilts so he can meet each stroke from below. The slap of skin on skin drowns out any other noise; the music, the screaming partygoers just outside. If someone walks by his door they’ll figure out what's happening in a second. Makes you want Soonyoung to be louder.

“You’re so hard for me.” 

You sink flat until your ass is cradled against the firmness of his thighs. You use the leverage to sit up and give an uninterrupted view of your front; how your breasts bounce with each movement, where his cock sinks deep into your guts without any resistance.

“All for you,” he nods, eyes wild and unfocused. There’s sweat on his neck and you can’t fight the sick urge to suck against the muscle laying underneath. “Fuck you make me so hard.”

“Should’ve let me suck your dick.”

“I know,” he whines. An arm loops around your waist, crowding you into the sheets from a smooth flip. An open mouth kiss, really just panted breath and tongue, distracts you further. A thumb at your chin keeps you pliant to whatever he wants.

He rocks deeper, as if it's possible. Surges right into that spot that curls your chest tight with rough fluidity. Your thighs fold wide to give him room.

One of your hands rubs at your clit to catch up.

“God, yeah, touch yourself for me.” Soonyoung whines. “Can you come again?”

He’s not just a sub, he’s a sadist.

“I—”

“Please,” he begs with a hard rush. 

“Yeah, okay,” you mumble. “Fuck me harder. Make me cum on your cock.”

You dig your free hand in his hair, tugging until it stings at the roots just the way he likes. The reward is another harsh rut of his hips that leaves you gasping for air. 

“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you moan along with the sloppy noise echoing between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

You scramble to grab his ass, pulling him flush against you for the perfect angle to batter your insides. Your skins on fire as you tumble closer and closer to that point of no return. 

“Soonyoung!” you gasp. It’s right there. That blissful ending is just a hairwidth away. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he folds in half as he says it, crushing you underneath his body until you're bent in half in his lap with the wet of his tongue at your jaw. “Cum for me, cum on my cock.”

You twist tighter under his insistence, shrinking and shrinking, and then — finally — it splinters. The waves rock through you, head forced back into the pillows from the force of moans wrecking your throat. “Oh— fuck, that—god. Oh.” 

Vision black against the inside of your eyelids, you melt into nothing. Only Soonyoung’s grip keeps you from shaking apart into a million pieces as you whine into his mouth. 

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he’s rambling the way to his own end, hips shaky from the way you’ve wetted his cock. “You’re so hot. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You want to watch him cum. Even if the temptation to lay there and take it is sweet you won’t give in. 

Bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, Soonyoung is a mess in his own right. Pink at the ears, lips bruised. You can’t get enough. His eyes darken as you suck along his thumb, tongue lashing against the sensitive pad. Soonyoung isn’t the only one that wishes you got to suck his dick. 

“Cum on me,” you whine. 

He pulls out, quickly tossing the condom aside. Your hand is already waiting to jerk him off over your body, the grease of the latex making the strokes smooth as Soonyoung fucks your fist with the same desperation as your pussy. It takes only a few thrusts before you feel the heat of his spend drip across your chest and stomach. You’re careful to stay still, body spread flat as he coats you in pale streaks. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. He twitches when you don’t stop, biting his tongue through the sting of overstimulation until he has to pull away.

Soonyoung collapses to the side. Shoulder to shoulder, you catch your breaths in the dull thump of music.

“That was fun.” You pat his stomach before standing. The floor is a mess of clothes needing to be plucked through. His shirt becomes a cum rag as you wipe away the mess staining your body.

“You aren’t gonna stay?” He calls from the bed. 

“No?” 

Why would I? you think while pulling on your underwear.

Soonyoung watches, splayed across the bed with his dick still wet in his lap. “Then, can I, like, call you sometime?” 

“No thanks.” 

“If you keep being mean to me I’m going to fall in love with you.”

 “Quoting New Girl isn’t giving me much incentive to be nicer,” you snort, untangling your bra. 

“It’s a great fucking show.” 

“Here’s a tip: if you want to fuck me again, stop being such a loser.” 

“You still let me hit so I think you like losers.” 

He’s smiling. You really need to find your underwear so you can get away from it.

“I like hot guys with big dicks,” you shrug. “You happen to be that.” 

“I know you want me,” he sings

“Dead, maybe.” 

“You’d miss my stroke game.” 

“I’d love to stroke you.” You coo. “With a bat. To the head.” 

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby.” He groans with dramatic flair. “By the way, you have cum on your skirt.” 

You do, on the hem somehow. A mystery to be solved when you’re safely back in the crowded expanse of a party and not alone with the guy with a tiger fetish you might want to fuck again. “Not the first time.” 

“God…. Please give me your number.” 

You can’t swallow the smile blooming at his request. Instead, you turn to leer over him. He’s watching your mouth, licking his lips like he wants to drag you down for another tumble. “Keep begging.” 

He’s got enough humor to get on his knees and clutch his hands to his chest pathetically. You’re still close, watching him down the slope of your nose while hiding a smirk. 

“Queen of my dick, please bestow a crumb of kindness and allow me the pleasure of hitting you up at 3 AM.” 

“That time I almost caved.” You back away just in time for him to stumble over himself. “Too bad I don’t fuck guys into furry shit at 3 AM.” 

“One, not a furry. Two, who do you fuck then?” 

“One, you're not fooling anybody.” You take extra time straightening out your hair in the mirror just so he can stare at your ass. You feel him do it. “Two, myself.” 

“I will pay real money to see that.”

“I know you would. So you’re never gonna.”

He’s watching you like some lovesick fool, glowing in the light with ignorance of what comes next. Part of you doesn’t want to crush someone as earnest as he is but staying the night is out of the question when you can still hear the party rattling through the walls.

“If I give you my number,” you start. “You have to give me this.”

It’s one of the smaller plushies. Soft to the touch and attached to his keys hanging by the door. It’s cute and perfect enough to satisfy your friends’ demands. Also, an excuse to see him again if you really want.

 Maybe you do. 

“TamTam?” Soonyoung asks from your side. You didn’t even hear him approach but he’s got boxers on so it took him a minute.

“You name your stuffed animals?”

“TamTam is special.” 

“Oh, he is?” you ask. “Well, how bad do you want my number?”

“I don’t know…” Soonyoung starts. 

Your face stings at the rejection but you bury it before giving it a chance to fester into something that needs thinking about. Looking back in the mirror to correct the smudges in your make is the only cover you’ve got.

“Okay,” he nods. “But if you do anything to him I will actually cry.”

TamTam is thrust into your hands and you can’t help but smile. It’s cute. Soonyoung is cute. And it actually might make you explode. 

You hate it.

“I pinky promise I will throw myself in front of a bullet for TamTam.”

He locks his pinky around your extended one, “Good.”

And then he’s kissing you again. Every thought melts away under his lips, soft against your own with a new sweetness. The edge of the dresser digs into your spine as he crowds you against it for more leverage but it’s merely an afterthought.

Soonyoung (not a furry): btw i lied [12:15 AM] Soonyoung (not a furry): im not hitting you up at 3am [12:15 AM] Soonyoung (not a furry): what are you doing tomorrow night (pls say me) [12:16 AM] You: tamtam and i are busy [12:33 AM]

Maybe you smile at the string of intelligible letters you receive after sending the picture of you kissing TamTam’s cheek. It’s no one's business if you do anyway.

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#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen hoshi #🫡 highvern

[gay-dorito-dust]

aaa ok hear me out on this. So I'm pretty sure you've mentioned that darling is one of Damians go-to petnames for his s/o. What about a little thing where his s/o normally will call him by his name but they end up calling him darling by accident? My english is terrible so sorry if this doesn't make much sense 😭

‘Where could it be.’ Damian muttered to himself as he practically tore his bedroom apart with his bare hands. ‘The stupid thing couldn’t have gotten that far.’

Damian had lost where he had placed his art pencils and couldn’t quite recall where he left them either, which was unlike him as he always had excellent recollection in the whereabouts of his and others belongings. Today however it seemed as though no matter how hard he racked his brain, Damian just couldn’t remember where he last left those stupid -yet expensive- set of charcoal pencils.

‘Tt, this is getting ridiculous now,’ Damian said to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow that had accumulated from searching high and low for art supplies, ‘it’s not as if they could’ve grown legs and walked off somewhere.’ It wasn’t until that moment did Damian realise that you had came back from your trip to the kitchen for a snack as you stood in the doorway of his room, looking at the mess that you were certain wasn’t there beforehand.

‘Damian, what’s going on here, it’s not like you to just turn your room into a pig sty just because you felt like it.’ You told Damian as you stepped into the room, suspecting the mess before looking back at your boyfriend who was usually good at keeping his room tidy and well organised, but the heavy pout on his lips and the furrow in his brow told you that there was a reason to the sudden mess.

‘I can’t find my charcoal pencils.’ He replied shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Well you’re certainly not going to in this mess.’ You retorted sarcastically, causing Damian to scoff, ‘why didn’t you try and recall the last place you put them.’ You added, trying to be helpful in this situation.

‘I did but they weren’t there.’ Damian tells you as he went back to tearing apart his room to search for his missing art pencils when something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention; it was Damian’s charcoal pencils, peaking out slightly from his bag alongside his sketch pad and paintbrushes. It wasn’t easy to spot but they were there and it was a surprise to you that Damian hadn’t seem to notice this at all, but that’s what made the entire situation just that little bit more hilarious then it should’ve been.

‘Damian.’ You called.

‘Not now y/n.’ He replied, heavily focused on finding these stupid pencils before he had to head off for school.

‘Damian.’ You tried again, now holding his bag in your hand, getting ready to show to him for when he looked up from under the bed.

‘Tt. Unless you’re going to help me, don’t distract me from-‘

‘I found your art pencils darling.’ Your voice cuts Damian off completely, leaving him taken aback but it wasn’t because you had found his pencils as he scrambled out from under his bed and stood up to see you holding his bag, which did indeed have his charcoal pencils in upon closer inspection.

‘What?’ You asked upon seeing his face.

‘What did you just say?’ Damian said.

You made a face and raised the bag a little higher. ‘I found your charcoal pencils?’ You replied albeit confused and a little worried that something was wrong with your boyfriend, did he hit his head as he was getting himself out from under his bed? You weren’t quite sure as you didn’t hear anything that could indicate that being the case.

‘Not that,’ Damian snipped, the search having left him feeling exhausted, agitated and embarrassed, ‘after that.’

‘I said Damian.’ You told him, your concern growing stronger the longer this went on.

Damian groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Darling, you called me darling.’ He spat out as a silence befell you both as the realisation sat in for you, meanwhile Damian was looking away from you with slightly flustered expression.

‘Oh.’ You said after a while. ‘Do you…do you hate it?’ You then asked as you looked down at your feet, finding them to be the most interesting thing in the room right now as your heart went crazy within your rib cage. Pet names weren’t new for either of you but you didn’t use them on a regular occurrence like regular couples, sure Damian called you darling or treasure but that was mainly behind closed doors or as little people as possible, but other then that you’ve rarely used them in any other context.

‘No, my treasure I didn’t hate it,’ Damian said softly as he managed to compose himself enough to walk over to you and take his bag from your hand, putting it on the bed before taking your hands in his, ‘I was just taken aback that is all.’ He reassured you by pressing a gently kiss to your forehead. If anything Damian liked it when you called him darling, it sent his heart a flutter and ignited a fire within his soul as his entire body grew warm by a simple pet name from your lips, however this was something he was yet to be comfortable in admitting to you in confidence but he will one day.

‘Does that mean I can call you it more often?’ You asked, already making up future scenarios where that would be the case within your mind in hope of seeing that very same flustered expression on across his face once more.

‘If you must, please do so in places where my siblings are out of range to hear.’ Damian said, smiling softly as you beamed in happiness, this was what he lived to see every day of his life, just you being extremely happy and happy with him; Something he hoped that he could continue to make you far into the future you shared together.

‘Deal.’ You said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Darling.’

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #dc fluff #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff

[vesselswife]

Getting closer to Simon was not easy.

From the first time your eyes met, you just knew he had been through a lot. The gleam in his eyes and the way they were moving all across the room. The way he looked at you up and down scanning you for any potential threats. You just knew it wasn’t just out of habit, it was a bit more than that. He was really suspicious of you and how soft-spoken you were towards everyone in the task force. 

His suspicions of you would only grow stronger whenever you’d try to get closer to him, his usually dead and tired-looking eyes would shift and glare at you not understanding your intentions. Every time you would ask him something a bit deeper and more personal he would glare at you and cut you off. 

“You are here for work. Not to make friends, now focus”

“This is none of your business sergeant.” 

“Don’t shove your nose in other people’s business”

The first time he looked at you differently was one night after dinner. You walked into him smoking at the back training field. 

He pretended to not notice you but you knew better, walking up to him you said nothing and just stood next to him looking at the night sky. He didn’t say anything either and you just stood there in the comfort of the silence. Silence was a rare thing in special forces but in that moment both of you found some sort of peace. 

You looked up at him only to find him already looking at you. Not with a glare and suspicion. He was just calm. It was the first time you felt close to him after all your attempts. Finding the courage you gave him a soft smile. It almost felt like you were reassuring him of something none of you could understand but it did make his heart skip some beats and his eyes to look away, you smiled again feeling the change.

From that night on your relationship changed. Sure you would still get the usual glare here and there but it was rather rare. He suddenly preferred to keep you close during missions and he was the first one to be by your side when you’d get injured, usually scolding you for being careless and not following his orders properly…

“Are you alright? Is your head okay?” 

“Can you walk? Need me to carry you?”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Don’t worry it’s just a scratch.”

“Stubborn aren’t you? Now look at the consequences.”

“Maybe if you actually followed my orders..”

 …And you would just smile at him and joke around making him sigh and chuckle. 

“Nothing about this is funny sergeant.”

Soon he found himself missing you more and more when you were not around. Especially during long missions when he had to be away from you for multiple days. He had caught feelings for you and he hated it. He hated how your soft smile was the first thing he would think of every morning and the last thing he would think of if he had the chance to sleep. He hated how he was becoming vulnerable to another person. But he could not help himself, the distance between you two only making his feelings stronger. Until he finally gave in to them.

Not that this made it easier for you two. He was very strict about you two not being obvious at the beginning. He would barely talk to you in meetings and briefings. He would rarely pay any attention to you when you were around other soldiers. He would sometimes pass you by without even looking at you even if you two were alone in the corridor. He was that strict with himself. 

But oh God, when you were alone with him.

He’d be all over you in every way. Kissing you every chance he got, holding your hand and stroking it with his calloused thumbs, grabbing you by the waist and kissing the back of your neck softly. Hugging you tightly on his chest and petting your hair.Stroking your cheek as you spoke breaths away from each other. Smiling in the kisses he so lovingly gave you, you know.. the ones he would miss every time he was away from you. 

“You smell divine my love.”

“Come lay with me for a little.”

“Want me to brush your hair?”

“Give me your hand darling.”

Simon was all over you during sex too. This man worshiped you. Every inch of your body was loved by him and every imperfection you saw in yourself was adored by him, almost like loving it for the both of you. Slow and steady moves filled with passionate kisses and soft groans from him that would slowly turn into loud moaning from you, your eyes watering with the pick up of the speed making you hold onto him. In moments like these where he would become rough he would give you that special look. The look where he was reassuring you. Reassuring you that you were still loved even though it hurt in the best way possible. Even though he was pulling your hair or choking you till you saw stars. That special look would make you completely trust him, feel safe, and give in to whatever he was going to do next. Anything that was. 

“That’s it, my love, relax and just take me like the good girl you are”

“Look at me in the eyes when I’m taking you like this” 

“Hand off your mouth before I cut it off. I wanna hear you” 

“There we go, let go completely, baby. I’ve got it under control.” 

And after all that he would kiss every place he slapped, caress the hair he pulled, stroke the places that had bite marks. Whispering softly in your eat until you fell asleep. Not that he would let go then, he would hold you all night long and stare at your sleeping face. Wondering how things got to that point.

“You did so good for me.” 

“Close those beautiful eyes and relax now, I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning, I promise” 

“Look at you, looking like an angel in my arms.”

Getting close to Simon was not easy. But it was worth it.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n

[erikahenningsen]

cadina 97!

97. “It’s not that easy.”

Regina really thought that going to college halfway across the country would fix her... problem. She left and went to Columbia; Cady stayed and went to Northwestern. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Well, apparently, wrong.

Somehow the torture of seeing Cady practically every day was nothing compared to the torture of not actually having any idea where she was, what she was doing, or who she was talking to. If she was at her desk doing homework or if she was out with some guy getting coffee and laughing about natural logarithms or whatever.

And now that she and Cady are in the same room—well, backyard—she physically cannot stop herself from staring.

"Hey girl."

Regina jumps as Damian drops into a chair beside her.

"Hi," Regina says. Across the yard, Cady is talking to Kevin and Gretchen. Her hair is twisted up in a way that shows off her cheekbones. She looks beautiful.

"You ever gonna tell her?"

Regina looks up sharply to see Damian looking at her shrewdly. "What?" she asks.

Damian gently pats her hand. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't pretend."

Regina feels her cheeks heat. God. She really thought she had kept this thing under wraps. She looks away and doesn't say anything.

"Have you ever talked to her about it?" Damian presses.

Regina grits her teeth. "About what?"

"Oh my god, Regina," Damian says exasperatedly. "You've been sitting here for half an hour like you're Therese at the Frankenberg's counter."

"What?" Regina asks, confused. "Who?"

"That's not important right now, although you not understanding that reference is indicative of a larger problem," Damian says dismissively. "I've been watching you watch her for three years now. It's honestly kind of sad."

Regina sighs, internally admitting defeat. "It's not that easy," she says quietly.

"What is?"

To Regina's horror, Janis has come to join them.

"Telling Cady Regina likes her," Damian says, and Regina briefly considers throwing her drink in his face and fleeing.

"Oh, yeah," Janis says, then snorts. "Don't look at me like that, Regina. Either tell her you're in love with her or get it surgically removed. It's weird and exhausting for you to just be staring at her all the time like a creep."

Damian shoots Janis a look. "What Janis means is that you deserve to be happy."

"Uh, no, I did mean that the staring is creepy," Janis says, and Damian makes a shooing gesture at her with his hand.

Regina tips her head back and looks up at the sky, shades of pink and orange swirling as the sun makes its last appearance at the edge of the horizon. "You guys are the worst people I know," she says.

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Janis says, pressing a hand to her heart.

"It doesn't even matter," Regina mutters. "She's straight."

At this, Janis barks out a sharp laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth.

Regina narrows her eyes. "Why is that funny?"

"Does she not know?" Damian stage-whispers, which Regina finds particularly annoying since she is sitting right here.

"Know what?" Regina demands.

"I don't think—" Janis cuts herself off and shakes her head. "It's not my place to say."

"What isn't?" Regina sits up, giving Janis the most intimidating look she can muster, although Janis only seems amused by this.

"Regina, honey," Damian says, placing a hand on her arm. "Just talk to her. She might be more receptive than you think."

Regina again gazes out across the yard at Cady, catching her eye. Cady grins and waves, and Regina halfheartedly waves back. A dozen thoughts and emotions swirl inside her, but one in particular starts worming its way inside her brain, banging against her skull. Something she has never let herself feel since the day Cady walked into the cafeteria their junior year of high school.

Hope.

#cadina #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls the musical #mean girls broadway #cady heron #regina george #ask #anonymous #prompts #janis (gently) bullying regina about her sexuality is my favorite dynamic

[cera-writes]

A Bite of the Big Easy — A Remy LeBeau Vampire AU pt. 1 🩸

Hoooookay! Here's the first chapter of the Vampire!AU. Not gonna lie, this was fun as hell to write. FYI, This is set in a modern day setting>

Pairing: Remy LeBeau x F!Reader

Tags: alcohol, violence, swearing, mentions of infidelity, a bit of fluff

Prompt: Reader is spending her bachelorette weekend down in New Orleans with her bridesmaids. She meets a mysterious stranger with a Cajun flair that shakes things up for her. But will it be more than what she bargained for?

The rhythmic pulse of the music thrummed through the thick New Orleans air, vibrating the cobblestones beneath your dancing feet. It was your bachelorette weekend, and Bourbon Street was a sensory overload in the best way possible. The air hung heavy with the scent of spilled daiquiris and fried seafood, punctuated by the melodic wail of a lone saxophone from a nearby balcony.

You and your girlfriends, a symphony of tipsy laughter in too tight clothing, were jammed into a corner booth at Fat Catz, a legendary French Quarter nightclub. The stage was a riot of color, a burlesque troupe shimmying and swirling under the flickering red light. You were three drinks in, the potent sweetness of a Sazerac warming your stomach, when a slow, bluesy number began.

"This one's for the dreamers," the sultry voice of the emcee announced.

Your girlfriends squealed, grabbing your arms and pulling you towards the dance floor. But before you could join them, a deep, accented voice cut through the music.

You were blissfully unaware that there were a pair of eyes watching you. You didn't have time to really react until a smooth creole voice like velvet rang in your ears amidst the vibrating music.

"Mind if I cut in, cher?"

You turned to find a man standing beside you. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with somewhat long, pretty reddish brown hair that gleamed under the dim lights. His eyes, a startling hue of what looked like the color crimson, held a hint of something ancient, something that sent a shiver down your spine despite the humid night air bellowing inside the door as patrons entered and exited the bar.

"I, uh…" you stammered, momentarily flustered by his undeniable charm.

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Don't worry, mon ami. I won't tread on your toes, not literally. Name's Remy. Remy LeBeau."

He extended a hand, amusement dancing in his eyes. You hesitated for a beat, then placed your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, an electric current that left you breathless.

Wait. This shouldn't be happening. What would your fiance think? Hell, to be honest, he was probably with his buddies back home having the times of their lives... preferably at a strip joint. One dance couldn't hurt.

As he led you onto the dance floor, you stole a glance at his profile. There was something about him, an aura of mystery that you found utterly captivating.

"You seem like a woman with a story," he murmured, his voice a low drawl that sent shivers down your spine.

"Well, um, I'm actually here with my bridesmaids." You sheepishly smiled, nodding over to them as they swayed tipsy on the dancefloor across from the two of you. Remy was certainly beautiful in a strange sense. But there was something odd about him too. His touch was cool, almost like ice as he placed a hand on the skin of your back. You were just wearing a pair of skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a backless tank top. So when he'd placed his hand there, it nearly made you jump from how ice cold it was.

He made sure to spin you around, twirling you under the muse of the jazz band playing as they took the stage. You felt dizzy, like this was some sort of ritual.

—

Remy's POV

—

A flicker of amusement danced in my crimson eyes as you stammered, your cheeks flushed a charming shade of rose. The scent of honeysuckle and something altogether more intoxicating, a nervous energy perhaps, swirled around you. It had been centuries since I'd indulged in such a human pastime as dancing, but the way you moved, lost in the music, was a melody I couldn't resist.

"Ah, bachelorette festivities, cher," I murmured, my voice a low caress. These nights in the French Quarter were ripe with opportunities, mortals seeking a taste of something forbidden before settling into their preordained lives. But there was something different about you, a spark of defiance in your eyes that intrigued me far more than the usual bachelorette bravado.

"Your friends seem to be enjoying themselves," I continued, watching your gaze flit between me and your giggling companions.

The scent of guilt mingled with the honeysuckle as you bit your lip. This innocent flirtation, fueled by the music and the carefree spirit of the night, was clearly a delicious transgression for you.

"They are," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "But something about you..." The sentence trailed off, leaving a delightful space for unspoken curiosity.

A slow deliberate smile spread across my lips. This little dance had just begun, cher. And in the heart of the pulsating French Quarter, under the cloak of anonymity, I planned to savor every step.

—

Your POV

—

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, yanking you out of Remy's gaze for a sec as you paused your little dance with him. Pulling it out, you saw a text from your fiance.

"Hey beautiful! Having a blast in NOLA? Miss you already! -A"

A stab of guilt hit you. You should be texting back excitedly about daiquiris and burlesque shows, not secretly flirting with a handsome stranger, nor entertaining him with a dance. But Remy's amusement was a delicious lure.

With surprising speed, you typed a reply to your fiance. "Hey hon! Havin' a great time! Dancin' the night away with the girls. Miss you too! See ya soon! 🫶."

Shoving the phone back in your pocket, you looked for a quick excuse to clear your head. Remy's lips quirked up in a knowing smile. "Someone important, cher?" he drawled.

"Hold that thought, I've drank too much and need to use the restroom," you waved it off, cheeks flushed from a rush of adrenaline.

—

Fiance's POV

—

The silk sheets felt like a decadent shroud around Alex, the remnants of their hurried encounter clinging to the air. A satisfied smile curved his lips as he reread your text. "Having a great time! Lots of dancing and fun with the girls. Miss you too! See you soon! 🫶". Everything seemed perfect. The carefully crafted response, the reassurance, the subtle reminder of your impending return. It was a well-rehearsed dance they performed every time you went out with your friends.

Alex tucked his phone away, the soft glow of the screen momentarily illuminating the woman sprawled languidly beside him. Her blonde hair, a tangled mess across the pillow, framed a face flushed with desire. A throaty chuckle escaped her lips, and Alex felt a pang of excitement shoot through him. This stolen moment, this secret affair, was a world away from the life he was about to return to – a life filled with your predictable smiles and picture-perfect expectations.

He knew it was wrong, a gnawing betrayal that twisted in his gut. But the illicit thrill, the intoxicating novelty of it all, was a potent aphrodisiac. Alex traced a finger down the woman's arm, the touch sending shivers down her spine. He reveled in the feeling of being desired, a stark contrast to the comfortable routine he shared with you.

Pushing the guilt down deep, Alex closed the distance between them, the woman's eager embrace momentarily erasing the echo of your name on his lips. Little did you know, the life you were about to return to wasn't nearly as picture-perfect as you believed.

—

Your POV

—

You squeezed your way back through the dense crowd, phone clutched tightly in your hand. The fleeting escape to the restroom offered a moment to clear your head, but the lingering guilt over your conversation with Remy gnawed at you.

Just as you rounded a corner, Remy, his back to you, was surrounded by your bridesmaids, their laughter a touch too loud for your taste. You shouldn't have cared who Remy was talking to, yet a strange possessiveness bubbled within you.

If anything, your bridesmaids had every chance to go home with him, but you were taken. You shouldn't be feeling any sense of jealousy. You literally had no cause to feel the way you did, yet you couldn't help it and it irritated the hell out of you.

You. Had. A. Fiance.

Then, as if sensing your presence, Remy's posture shifted. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder, meeting your gaze directly. A silent excuse passed between your eyes, and with a smooth word to your bridesmaids, he excused himself.

The crowd parted for him as he effortlessly weaved his way towards you, a secret smile playing on his lips. "There you are, cher," he murmured, his voice a delicious caress. "Ready to pick up where we left off?"

"Um, actually, I think I better be retiring for the night. It's getting late and my hotel isn't too far from here." You replied, glimpsing back towards your bridesmaids. They were ordering even more drinks at the bar, like they hadn't had enough already. But who were you to tell them not to have a good time?

"Thank you for the dance. It was fun," you quickly flashed Remy a smile before turning on your heel to at least tell your friends that you were headed back to the hotel. It was only three blocks away. Surely you'd be fine making the walk back. You had your trusty pepper spray on you, tucked into your other back pocket just in case some asshole tried something tonight on your way back.

Guilt gnawed at you as you weaved through the throng of French Quarter partiers spilling out of the bar. You shouldn't have cared that Remy was surrounded by your friends, and yet, a strange possessiveness bubbled up. You quickly shook your head, ignoring that stupid thought away.

It really shouldn't have mattered to you. They were a bit too tipsy to really stop you from making the trip alone, but honestly you needed some peace and quiet after what had just happened. You were sure he'd resort to flirting with them after you left anyway. And that was none of your business if they wanted to go back to his place for the night. You all knew what you were getting into on this trip.

The fresh air would clear your head and the walk back to your hotel would help sober you up. Slipping out of the bar unnoticed, you felt a strange sense of relief when the throng of bodies thinned and the sounds of drunken laughter faded as you finally turned the corner from the ever so rowdy, raucous Bourbon Street.

The night was thick and humid, the dimly lit streets casting long, menacing shadows. New Orleans really did have a haunting feel to it late at night.

You quickened your pace, the rhythmic click of your boots echoing on the sidewalk. Lost in thought, you didn't notice the figure detach itself from a darkened doorway and begin to follow at a discreet distance.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure stepped out from behind a boarded-up storefront. "Hey, doll," he slurred, his voice laced with menace. "Looking lost. Mind if I walk you home?"

You froze, hand instinctively darting towards your back pocket. "No thanks," you replied curtly, voice laced with a tremor of fear. You backed up on instinct, making sure to keep a good distance from the strange man.

The man took a menacing step closer, a predatory glint in his eye. "Suit yourself, sweetheart," he sneered, pulling out what looked like the hilt of a knife from behind him.

Just then, a dark shape materialized beside you. Remy, his movements silent and swift, materialized out of the shadows, placing himself between you and the threat. But the night was so dark and everything was cast in an ebony shadow, that you couldn't make out the other person too well.

"Looking for someone to play with, mon ami? Consider lil' ol' me," Remy drawled, his voice smooth as silk.

The mugger scoffed. "This ain't your business, buddy. Move along."

Before Remy could respond, you whipped out your pepper spray, finger hovering over the trigger. "Get back!" you shrieked, aimlessly pointing the canister directly at Remy.

Fear clouded your judgment, and in a split second, you discharged the spray. A cloud of capsaicin erupted, momentarily obscuring both Remy and the mugger. You squeezed your eyes shut, coughing as the fumes reached you.

When you opened your eyes again, a horrifying sight met your gaze. The mugger had lunged forward, a glint of metal catching the dim light. He plunged the knife into Remy's side, a sickening thud echoing in the night.

Remy, momentarily stunned, stumbled back, a surprised look on his face. But to your astonishment, you couldn't tell there was any blood yet, no sign of a wound. Just a faint hiss escaping his lips as he swatted away the lingering cloud of pepper spray.

"Well, that was certainly interesting, cher," he muttered, his voice strained but oddly amused.

"Shit, Remy?!" You eyes went wide but before you could say anything else, he lunged at the mugger with unnatural speed, easily disarming him with a single, fluid motion. The mugger, wide-eyed with terror, crumpled to the ground with a groan as Remy delivered a swift blow to his pressure point.

Remy straightened, dusting himself off with an air of nonchalance. But you noticed a slight grimace on his face, and your eyes darted to where the knife had struck him. Seeing it finally, there was a small puncture in his shirt, a single red stain blossoming around it.

"Remy!" you gasped, rushing to his side. "You're hurt!"

He glanced at the stain, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. "Seems that fella managed to snag me after all," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry, cher, it's jus' a mere scratch. But perhaps you wouldn't mind patchin' me up when we get back? I'd hate to ruin a perfectly good shirt."

Then it hit you. "You were following me weren't you?" You scoffed. "Jesus...how was I supposed to know you weren't gonna pull the same shit as him?" You scoffed, casting a glance over at the guy he'd just knocked out.

"Trust me cher," Remy winced, "If I hadn't have come you'd probably have just pepper sprayed him to death. Better to leave em' knocked out." He smirked.

You sighed, crossing you arms. "Dammit, okay...we gotta make this quick. You sure you don't need me to call someone? An ambulance?"

Remy shook his head. "Not necessary, cher. It's not that bad."

You glanced down at the red stain on his shirt. "Not bad? Your shirt is practically soaked with blood now. C'mon," you huffed, "it's the least I can do for you after you saved my ass and I pepper sprayed you."

Remy simply grinned. "Thanks cher."

"Don't mention it."

He followed you one more block to your hotel. It was over on Ursuline Street so things were much quieter in that part of town. "Hotel Villa Convento. House of the Rising Sun. You've got taste, cherie." He smirked, following you into the elevator.

"Bridesmaids booked it. They wanted the free parking." You shrugged. As the two of you made it to the king suite on the top floor, you made haste and ushered him inside quickly after sliding your room card through the slot.

"We gotta make this quick, okay? They'll probably be heading back any second. I don't think having a strange, rather pretty man in the room with me alone is a good look." You mentioned, pulling him into the bathroom.

"Heh, you think I'm pretty?" He teased. You cast him a look that said 'drop it'.

He took the hint and didn't press you any further much to his amusement. You left him leaning against the bathroom counter to go find your med kit.

"I have a first aid kit in my luggage. I'm always prepared for emergencies." You said, digging through your suitcase before you finally found it shoved underneath a pair of shorts.

"Got it," you quickly met back up with him in the bathroom and realized that you wouldn't be able to dress the wound without getting him to take off his shirt first.

You bit your lip, torn between frustration and a weird sense of exhilaration. Here you were, in a hotel bathroom with a stranger who was undeniably attractive, tending to a wound he got protecting you. This entire freaking night had been a whirlwind, and this situation was just the cherry on top.

"Alright," you started, forcing a business-like tone that you weren't entirely sure you were carrying off. "To patch you up properly, I'll need you to take off your shirt."

Remy, who had been watching you rummage through your kit with amusement, raised an eyebrow.

"Just the shirt, cher? No need to get hasty." A playful glint flickered in his eyes, a hint of his earlier amusement lingering.

"Seriously, Remy?" you countered, a touch of exasperation creeping into your voice despite the unexpected flutter in your stomach. "This isn't some kind of game. You've got a wound, and I need to see it."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Alright, alright, cher. You win." He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a glimpse of toned muscle underneath. The red stain from the knife was more prominent now, spreading outwards with a concerning urgency.

You quickly averted your gaze, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. This was serious. "Hold still," you muttered, reaching into your kit and pulling out a pair of antiseptic wipes. "This might sting a little."

As you cleaned the wound, your fingers brushed against his cool skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You fingertips grazed one of many numerous scars that adorned his body. He winced slightly, but remained silent, a flicker of pain crossing his face. Despite the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your hands were surprisingly steady.

"You know," Remy murmured, his voice a husky whisper, "you mentioned not wanting a strange man in your room. Maybe I wasn't being very reassuring back there."

You paused, glancing up at him. His dark eyes held a hint of something...else, something that made your breath hitch. The implication hung heavy in the air, and a blush crept up your cheeks.

"That's one way to put it," you mumbled, focusing on applying a generous amount of antibiotic cream to the wound. You fumbled for a bandage in your kit, the white sterile squares suddenly seeming much too small for the situation.

"Look," Remy said, his voice softer now, "I appreciate you patching me up. You really didn't have to."

"Well, someone had to," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You secured the bandage as best you could, the awkward intimacy of the situation making your heart pound a little too fast. "There. All done."

You stepped back, suddenly very aware of the space between the two of you. The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Remy's gaze lingered on you for a beat too long, sending shivers down your spine. You cleared your throat, breaking the spell.

"I, uh, maybe you should get going," you stammered, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

"My bridesmaids could be back any minute."

Remy's lips curved into a slow, enigmatic smile. "As you wish, cher. But this isn't the end of our conversation, is it?"

The sheer motherfucking audacity of this man—

He'd waltzed in, danced with you, followed you, then gotten himself stabbed protecting you, and now he was leaving with a suggestive question hanging in the air? You should be relieved to see him go, to finally have a moment to catch your breath and process the chaotic turn your night had taken.

Instead, a strange sense of disappointment settled in your stomach. "I don't…" you stammered, unsure of how to respond. The truth was, you didn't know what this night meant. Remy was a stranger, a captivating enigma who'd saved you from a potential mugging or worse, but you were getting married in a few days.

Remy chuckled, a rich sound that danced along your nerves. "Don't worry about it, cher. Think of it as a…favor owed. You saved me from a dull evening, and I returned the favor. Consider us even." He took a step closer, his dark eyes gleaming with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"But," he continued, his voice a husky whisper, "perhaps you could offer a more…personal repayment sometime. Name the time and place, cher. I wouldn't dream of saying no." With that, he winked, a gesture that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

Before you could stammer out a reply, he turned and you soon heard the click of your room door, leaving you breathless and bewildered in the sterile confines of the bathroom.

You stared at the closed door for a long moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you. A part of you thrilled at the unexpected encounter, to the danger and intrigue and mystery that swirled around Remy. But another, more sensible part, reminded you of your impending wedding, of the life you'd built for yourself.

With a sigh, you forced yourself to focus on the practicalities. You cleaned up the supplies you'd used, shoving them back into your first-aid kit with trembling hands. The adrenaline that had been coursing through your veins began to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness.

Slipping out of the bathroom, you found your room empty. The faint sounds of laughter drifting from down the hall told you your bridesmaids were headed up, blissfully unaware of the drama that had unfolded just steps away.

Undressing and stepping into your silken night gown, you crawled into bed and pulled the covers up tight, as the events of the night replaying in your mind like a fever dream.

Sleep, when it finally came, was filled with fragmented images of blood colored eyes, a dangerous smile, and the echo of a question that hung heavy in the air: what had you gotten yourself into?

#gambit #remy lebeau #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #a bite of the big easy #vampire remy lebeau

[katierosefun]

local girl is taken aback by how expensive haircuts are because what in the inflation--

#caroline talks #you know what! never mind! i'll get my haircut around thanksgiving time thank u very much #the thing about my hair is that it is NOT easy to cut #because a) asian hair despite what people say is actually different from white people hair thank u very much #b) asian wavy/curly hair is ALSO different from what white people hair THANK YOU VERY MUCH-- #c) BECAUSE of my hair i need to get layers as well to avoid triangle head #which of course amps up the price and all that #and i only trust one (1) hair salon to get my hair done properly and that hair salon is all the way in my home state so . . . #the holidays it is! #my hair will probably hit me mid-waist by then but it's. listen it's FINE--

[floral-hex]

Okay okay, I usually hate posting selfies, but then again, I also love a little mild attention. So, to strike a balance, here are 4 recent ones, but I’m posting them at 2am so I don’t have to worry about bothering too many people. Yeah? Ok thanks I love you

#yes I know how time zones work… they’re fake. it’s night everywhere right now. duh. #sometimes a girl just wants to hear she’s pretty 🤷🏻‍♂️ #I’m sorry I have a perpetual grumpy face. I don’t know what to do about that 🤷🏻‍♂️ #god I’m bored. and lonely. and yearning. yeah… #I don’t want to get into that right now… ok I do but maybe let’s not do it in these tags #anyway I’m actually probably going to chop off most of my hair this weekend #I know I know. dudes cutting off long hair is a sin but also… it’s hot. my hair is heavy and gets gross easily #it’ll grow back soon enough but for now it needs to be razed #so what else what else… #this is my third night staying in the hospital while my mom is admitted #she’s doing better but I don’t really want to leave her here alone for too long #being stuck in bed feeling like shit all day gets lonely and tiresome so someone’s gotta hang with her #it’s not so bad on my part. I just sit in this chair all night on my phone and then eat breakfast in the cafeteria #easy peasy #I haven’t been home much in the past few days. just a few hours at time to nap and then head back #but it’s good. things are getting better #yup… #I guess that’s it… I don’t know what else to say #you can ignore this #take it sleazy #me #selfie #gross boy

[dirt-str1der]

just wanna say im obsessed with your mind and i read your posts about kiryu like the morning paper. thank you for your service

(Sweats) e-even the ones about him laying eggs ?

#Thanks for the ask ! #HIIIIII thank you for reading my posts im really a serial rambler so that is no easy feat. i just had a lowkey nightmare that was insect #based so its nice to think about different kinds of eggs once in a while. sorry for the eggs i just learned the word gravid and i cant stop #saying it !!! i literally opened tumblr to make another post about kiryu i was gonna say he was probably antisocial in his childhood which #is really a miracle any girls managed to notice him at all. and i believe that he was very dismissive of his clothing and appearance because #you know when youre young and trans and havent realised it but you just randomly hate everything about your appearance and dont even knowwhy #i think his hair was always too long and too shaggy and he would let nishiki comb it sometimes because he really could not stand his mane #and sometimes when it gets wayy too long and shitty the sunflower caretaker would drag him outside and just cut a chunk of it off with a #knife and kiryu would have shoulder length hair for a little while... anyway i need to give him a little girlfriend like how rikiya had one #when he was in school because all trans guys need a little girlfriend or an all girl group of friends to be his girlfriends when hes a kid #so he can carry their shopping bags and wait for them outside the changing room etc and kiryu cant resist a girl so he gets a letter from #nishiki and he tells him yeah this is probably a prank to have you wait there for hours or there might be guys waiting to ambush you and #beat the crap out of you. and kiryus like Nobody beats the crap out of me except our dad. and goes to meet this girl and he actually agrees #to go out with her and this is the thing that keeps him in school because otherwise he would literally not go. like hed walk with yumi and #nishiki and the rest of the kids at sunflower that he doesnt care about to remember the names of. and he would just wave them off at the #gate and wander the town in his school uniform and then after school he’ll meet nishiki and possibly yumi at the gate (yumi probably makes #other friends but its a Must to walk nishiki home because he’ll get lonely) and when kiryu starts going out with this girl hes obligated to #walk her home so he already broke rule one but nishikis like happy for him But he has to walk home with some other random guys now and #eventually theyll broach the topic of ‘his psycho sister’ and nishiki literally has to beat a few guys up to defend kiryus honour and when #he comes back with news of how unpopular kiryu is with the rest of the guys because he looks better with short hair than they do and has a #girlfriend whos super cute. kiryu is just like damn did you commit social suicide to protect my honour? youre my best friend. but whatever #kids get over it fast. but parents dont!! and kiryu walks his girlfriend right to her front door and soon enough her parents are going to #find out that the boyfriend she keeps gushing about is a girl and straight up take her out of school to make her stop being gay and kiryus #like but ... im a boy ... punches the ground and screams to the sky. anyway enough about dysphoria simulator im here to talk about this guy #when hes a bit older because im salivating and shaking over the thought of his bootyass rip kiryu you woulda loved thongs. i think hed hate #ripped jeans but only because he thinks theyre a waste of manufacturing. its literally better for the world that kiryu decided 2 transition #because can you imagine if she was a girl and needed to wear a bra? like she would literally have an itchy back all the time which would #give her a hair trigger temper which means kamurocho a&e room will be very healthily plush indeed. god my battery is dying i need to take a #shower noww anyway really thank you for the nice message you are so sweet ... hi ...

[wild-houseplant]

Hello Plant, lovely friend ^^ I am a-coming with questions. Oh would I have loved just putting the whole post into your asks but that would be unfair to everybody else who wants to ask questions and maybe also be a tad bit overwhelming. So I've made a selection. Feel free to pick the ones that tickle your fancy the most and ignore the rest ^^

3. What architectural or design aesthetic would best suit them?

7. If your OC could meet any historical or past figure, whether in the real world or in their own canon lore, who would it be and why?

13. Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Yes she is Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them? (Also if I may make an add-on which language are reserved for which occasions? What's the socializing language? The academic language? The work language? Does she learn Antivan?)

23. What sort of routines, rituals or rules do they have or set for themselves? (What is her procedure to make herself comfortable after a long day of work? Bold question, may be a tad bit personal, if so please ignore)

I hope you're having an amazing day!!!!

Henlo my excellent friend :3 Thank you for sending the lush asks! I will answer them ALLLLLLL 8D

Under the cut, because like Aurelio and Revka, I am incapable of keeping it concise.

Okay, so 3 (what architectural or design aesthetic would best suit them?). I'll be the first to admit I'm not au fait with the industry terms. What I can say, though, with regard to general preferences:

Most important thing for Rhodri is that stuff is clean and in reasonably good repair. With the exception of hairline cracks in the buildings, which any Tevinter will assure you adds character, broken tiles and the like should be replaced. Also important is to make the place look both imposing to outsiders, but welcoming to familiar people.

Some clutter indoors, especially books, is encouraged, but only on table surfaces (never on the floor, as Tevinters consider it dirty, no matter how many times you mop it).

I've always seen Tevinter as a place that has a lot of sandstone and marble, so I figure plenty of the buildings are made out of those two things. Especially the upper-crust villas like what Rhodri grew up in.

In terms of decorations, better with trees and gardens rather than fancy statues. The symbol of Tevinter can either be carved into the sandstone, or in a banner hanging at the front of the villa.

High ceilings, please, and an atrium indoors, as it's hot as buggery year round in Minrathous. Make it nice and light, too. It's a beautiful, sunny city.

A couple of pictures below if that helps (links embedded in the pics):

close to ideal house. God help me for using minecraft. Make the land flat and stick a gazebo out the back for watching the afternoon thunderstorm, and that's a wrap.

Someone made a Tevinter-inspired courtyard, though I would just make this their atrium. MeggieRock took a whole bunch more pictures; I just chose the one I liked best. They're all amazing, though. I'm not quite sure if that's what the question was asking or not. Was I close? haha :D lmk if not!!

Number 7 (If your OC could meet any historical or past figure, whether in the real world or in their own canon lore, who would it be and why?)

Oh, easy choice. Zevran's mother, hands down. Naturally, if she could plan it out, she'd take Zevran so he could meet her, but if that wasn't allowed, she'd take a list of questions and information to pass on to her mother-in-law on Zevran's behalf.

One thing I never really thought of until now is that it would have been quite a thing at the wedding to see the Imperial Chantry packed to the rafters with Rhod's family and friends and friends of the family and and and... But then not a soul from Zevran's side. People would've been astonished. Northerners have huge networks, and Zevran comes empty-handed to his own nuptials? It's sad, honestly. Especially because even though Tevinters don't marry for love as a rule, the marriage does signify two households becoming much more linked. Really, you don't just marry one person, you marry the whole family.

On the plus side, Zevran has a whole new gaggle of people who love him to bits, so it's very much a net win. Even so, Rhodri was looking forward to the whole +1 family add-on with whomever her father was going to set her up with. So the chance to say g’day to her mother-in-law would be something she’d be absolutely jonesing for.

Assuming Zevran isn't allowed to join in on this, meeting Zevran's mother would be a very emotional event, I think, for Rhodri and her mother-in-law both. Not least because this poor Dalish woman realises her only child has gone and gotten hitched with a Tevinter Magister, oh my GOD. I dunno, though, I think Rhodri's candour and very plain affection for her son (she practically sings odes about him as it is) would reassure her. She'd probably be heartbroken to hear Zevran went through what he did with the Crows. I’m sure she’d be very proud of him too, though, especially as Rhodri waxes lyrical about his heroism and kind heart during the Blight (and every other point in time, honestly) .

And yanno, marrying into fabulous wealth with a spouse who's willing to do anything for him, well. It's a turn-up for the books after Crow living. This lady would probably be content enough to let Rhodri go (only after ALL her questions are answered) with some ominous warning about haunting the shit out of her if she breaks Zevran's heart. Fair enough, honestly. What loving mother could do more?

13. Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Yes she is Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them? (Also if I may make an add-on which language are reserved for which occasions? What's the socializing language? The academic language? The work language? Does she learn Antivan?)

Ooh. Ooh ok. Let's see. I can't say Rhodri dislikes Common, because it's her mother's native language (though Revka does speak Tevene) and her mother is a SAINT, damn it! BUT Rhod's far more Tevinter than Kirkwaller, culturally speaking, and does have a heavy preference for Tevene.

The trouble with Common, as any proud Northerner will tell you, is that it's not so much a cultural language these days, but rather a trade tongue. A lingua franca, at most. Those poor bloody Fereldans and Marchers, Maker help them, lost their cultural language and can only speak Common now. Where are the culturally-specific words for certain moods, circumstances, weather phenomena, celebrations? Where's the language made by the first of their people to live there, that ties them to their homes and families?

She uses Common when she needs to. Everyone does. If anyone with her doesn't speak Tevene, or doesn't feel proficient enough, she'll speak Common, as basic courtesy dictates. With Kirkwaller family, though, she uses it more joyfully. Especially when she gets a chance to whip out the dreadful sandblaster Kirkwaller accent and horrify everyone but her mother, who was the one to teach it to her.

(HC if needed: I have assigned various accents and dialects of the English-speaking diaspora to the Marcher nations and beyond, as I'm sick of RP everywhere. Kirkwallers speak Australian English; Starkhaveners have the most gorgeous Glaswegian (feel free to picture Sebastian Vael screaming "Whae fuckin widnae! Eh? Think ah fuckin widnae? Ya fuckin radge!" when challenged to a fight). And those splendid people in Tantervale delight us all with the linguistic beauty of Belfast!)

For all other matters, she speaks Tevene. I'd say she's evenly bilingual having grown up speaking both, but Tevene, which is much more expressive and emotional, communicates her and her inner workings best. Lots of Tevene doesn't translate well into Common, and she forever bemoans that, because it makes it much harder to get her message across. The pain of having to explain 'te amo plenissime' while Zevran's still learning, oh god. She thinks and dreams in Tevene. Any poetry or important, heartfelt things she writes-- Tevene (except to her mother, of course). Magical research is more easily written in Tevene- Circle mages across Thedas use a lot of Tevene loanwords for magical things because of course, magic was suppressed outside of the Imperium.

She does learn Antivan though! Luckily, the two countries have very similar linguistic roots-- in fact, my HC here is that Antivan developed from Tevene, and they haven't diverged too much yet. I'd say it'd be like being a German speaker learning Dutch. The trick is keeping your own first language out of your target language's turn of phrase. Zevran and Rhodri both pick up each other's language without too much trouble once they're living under the same roof again after Awakening.

23 What sort of routines, rituals or rules do they have or set for themselves? (What is her procedure to make herself comfortable after a long day of work? Bold question, may be a tad bit personal, if so please ignore)

Rhodri, who has been watching me type all this for her, has asked me to pass on that, 'iucundis can ask me anything at all, and we will not be ignoring this question,' so there you have it!

I don't think there's anything very specific to the busier days that would feature, to be honest. Her schedule is embedded with the things needed to keep her comfortable. When she was a little sprout and had come home from a long day, she was often fairly tense, especially if she'd gotten dirty. Her folks found that the best solution was to drop her in the bath and read to her, and then give her dinner. Most problems can be fixed by getting clean and having a good meal, really.

Even now, bath and food works wonders. Bathing with company or without, she doesn't mind. (Ironically enough, given its fussiness about modesty, Tevinter has a big bathhouse culture, and friends and family love a day out together at the spa/baths.)

That aside, if she's tired or stressed, it's more painful as a rule to deviate from the schedule, so if she has things that need to be done, she's found that it's better to half-arse them to get to bath/food/bed quicker. Dealing with the fallout is Tomorrow Rhodri's problem. My little rebel. <3

#holy shit this was LONG #I'm sorry but I couldn't skimp on a single word :o :o :o #Even so! My condolences to your eyes!!! hope your day is going well my friend!! thank you so much for the ask 8D 8D 8D #Rhodri Amell #(also god??? I am never overwhelmed by how many questions you ask so you do whatever you want. I am VERY overwhelmed by the length of my #answers though. written fuckin war and peace up there ^^^) #askin' games #also I am complaining with Rhodri BITTERLY about translating 'te amo plenissime' #WHY did I dive into this bloody language ToT #'te amo' is easy enough but PLENISSIME #how do I even translate that in under 20 words? #'plenus' is a word that means fully/completely BUT also implies that it is applied in its fullness across all contexts and circumstances #So across time and space and every little hair's turn-- there is not a single instance in which this galaxy-sized thing is not applicable #THEN you add +issime which is the superlative prefix #'I love you the most plenus.' Doesn't work. Sounds awful 0/10 will not make your love interest swoon #sometimes only a certain language will cut it I guess >_>' #Also edit to say that I don't actually mind writing long things but I am told I waffle on so please tell me if I need to keep it conciser #my overwhelm is more sympathy for you dear reader

[vers-1]

I am actually in a hell of my own making

#47 #Im a big girl i can get through this #side note hair is just such a weird thing for me #idk if anyone really notices but it’s like the biggest thing for my self expression? I think #I like it a certain way and a lot of times I just don’t do that #it’s really a punishment thing where I feel like I have to suffer so I make it look a certain way #I feel like you can really tell where I am mentally if you ask me about it #rn i hâte everything about it but i can’t get myself to cut it off #it would be easy and it’s soooo hot outside #I’ve got a really weird thing about it that’s hard to explain #but back on topic this final project is killing me and then I have to write the paper 😭😭

[luolii]

uhmm i haven't been seeing a lot of discussion about till aside from his relationships with other competitors and i think it's something that must be addressed because i think among the competitors he's the anomaly.

unlike his peers, Till is nothing special. Ivan is beautiful and talented and so is Mizi, and they're both treated as valuable things by their alien owners because of it. You can see this in the way Ivan's constantly surrounded by attention and food and Mizi's pampered lifestyle pre-alien stage.

but then you get to Till and he's literally just strapped to a medical table. Mizi and Ivan's "foster family" treat them with some degree of humanity, even if it's in the way that humans now treat their beloved house cats. If that's the case, Till's treated as a mildly interesting lab rat.

His owners go lengths to further dehumanize him, and you can see that from the way he's so often muzzled when no one else is. They also quite literally brand him !!

This type of dehumanization in my opinion is also something that contributes to Till's aggressive behavior, because he is constantly in the circumstances that force him to do so.

Till is neither too attractive or too talented at singing, and I'm pretty sure he knows this --- that's why he relied so heavily on the element of gruesome surprise during his first round.

It's also worth mentioning that his unhealthy attachment to the idea of Mizi as some kind of saving grace also reflects on his own perception of himself, as some sinner in need of saving. Whenever he imagines Mizi in the Round 6 video, he is someone tainted in the colors of his captors (red) and sweaty, whereas Mizi is bright and glowing.

He didn't expect to live past round 6, I think that's made pretty clear. His expression isn't one of someone who expects to live (especially when Mizi is now either dead or gone). His expression is of someone defeated.

Another thing about Till is that he felt alone. Ivan loves him, we knows this, but Till doesn't. The few instances we see through Ivan's eyes, his kindness towards Till is either from somewhere Till can't see or when he's unconscious. The only time we see them interact where Till is aware of what's going on is when they're fighting as kids, and their one escape attempt.

As far as I know, Till has nothing to go off of in recent times. The only time that he's touched is by alien captors and scientists, both who see him as less than human. It's easy to be beat down and dehumanized when there is no one around you to humanize you.

No other competitor, from what we've seen, is treated as awfully as Till is treated. His idealization of Mizi stems from delusion, and there is no indication to him now that his ex-best friend Ivan still gives a shit about him.

That changes after the 6th Round though, and Till is so well set up to be a character who gets his entire worldview shattered, with Ivan's final show of affection and Mizi's disconnect from the one he has in his head (symbolized by her cut hair).

Till, a hotheaded human who is nothing special but lived on until the final round through the idealization of one competitor and the sacrifice of another ... the silliest of all time

#this is all rambling but erm.... till my beloved #till alien stage #alien stage till #alien stage round 6 #ivantill #mizitill #alien stage #luolies #alien stage ivan #alien stage mizi

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU — your stepdad gojo always seemed to show off how good your father / daughter relationship really was whenever his bestfriend would visit.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! stepcest, stepdad!gojo, vouyerism, f!receiving oral, teasing, you refer to him as daddy, pet names. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hi guys! it’s me! i got struck w motivation suddenly & i missed u all ! <3 i’m back on my filthy little agenda & finally elaborating on this post now that i’m back :3

you always loved when your step dads bestfriend visited, you could always tell it was him with how softly he seemed to close the door — your home suddenly being filled with light hearted jokes from the two men downstairs that always pulled you out of your bedroom.

geto had always been kind to you, he’d basically been as big a part of your life as gojo had been— although you always thought it was funny the way they would both playfully fight for your attention. more so your dad’s bestfriend just letting him win so he didn’t have to listen to him whining about how he’s stealing you from him.

so today is just the same when you hear you the familiar “you’ve got a visitor, sweet girl.” call from downstairs as it’s followed by a smooth chuckle from the man in question. you know who it is— you’ve just gotten out from your shower, skin still slightly damp underneath the oversized fabric of your daddy’s shirt and you don’t really have the time to change into something warmer, opting just to deal with the panties underneath — the shirts long enough to hide them anyway.

it’s fast the way you make your way through the house, almost toppling into the living room as your greeted with the two men on either sofa. you suddenly feel nervous with the way their eyes cut into you, feeling hot underneath their gaze as you grab and pull at the hem of your shirt.

“slow down, sweet thing. excited to see me?” is how it begins, the usual teasing as gojo gives his bestfriend a narrowed look followed by a sly smirk sent your way. but it seems to cut through the tension in the room, helping you relax as his arms outstretch and you suddenly feel embarrassed underneath your clothes when he gives you an expectant look, tapping at his lap when you pause and rock yourself on your feet.

but you’re much too distracted by the way geto’s looking at you, head propped up against his fist as he lets himself rest against the arm of the couch. his hair is pulled back handsomely, letting you admire his pretty cut features and the usual kind-hearted smile he always reserved for you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“hah! come onnn~ you shy? ‘ts just suguru, you don’t wanna embarrass me infront of my friend, right?” gojo groans, a little louder this time as his crystalline gaze narrows playfully at you with a pout. your step dad has always been a little touchy, especially around his bestfriend — always insisting you spend your time together tucked into his lap or under his arm, like he’s staking a silent claim.

“you better go before he starts whining, we won’t hear the end of it.” geto’s words are soothing but he makes sure they’re loud enough for his friend to hear as the snowy haired male tuts. but just before he fires back another quick response, he smirks as you pad your way towards him — giving into the way his arms wrap instinctively around your hips as he pulls you into his lap, letting your thighs rest over his own as you press into his side under his arm.

“see, bet you’re comfy now, right? gotta show suguru that i’m still your favourite.” the first half of gojo’s sentence is a low drawl as you readjust yourself, words breathed along the shell of your ear before he makes the latter a little louder. like he’s celebrating a victory as his bestfriend pretends not to hear him.

but you press yourself into him just like always, it was too easy to get lost in the feel of him against you — tucking yourself against him as he lets one of his arms curl around you to rest at the base of your spine.

you let yourself chime into their conversation for a while before you just allow yourself to listen— opting for a giggle or a laugh at their playful banter, feeling gojo squeeze at your hips everytime he says something that he finds particularly funny so he can make sure you’re listening, laughing. you readjust yourself against him again and he’s always there to pull you closer, pressing a quick peck against your temple and you like how homey it feels when the three of you are like this.

the time seems to move quickly, the conversation has settled down slightly despite the way the two bestfriends still seemed to tease eachother and you feel content from where you’re curled against your stepdad, face resting in the crook of his neck as his fingers smooth along your spine.

“is she asleep?” you hear geto ask lowly, kindly and it makes your eyelashes flutter— tickling along gojo’s skin as he hums. he knows you’re not, but he still lets the question hang for a few more moments as his fingers trace shapes into your skin. he readjusts himself, silently before the next twist of his wrist brings his hand around your hips, placing featherlight touches along the planes of your skin until you shudder into him.

“daddy—“ it’s embarrassing, the soft whine your voice takes— you’re so responsive. your daddy’s heard you like this before, he took great pleasure in being able to pull those sounds from you but this was a first for his bestfriend.

“oh? ‘s my sweet girl tired? suguru was worried.” you keen at the low drawl gojo’s voice takes— you’d heard it like that before, it was like instinct the way you reacted to it especially when it’s accompanied by the teasing squeeze of his palms — kneading at your skin until you’re fidgeting.

“i’m fine.” you murmur as you try so hard to bury yourself into your stepdad’s neck, you’re so embarrassed— too hot underneath your clothes and all he’s done is barely touch you, show off the reaction he can pull from you with just a few swipes of his fingers.

“oh yeah? just fine?” gojo drawls again, a lull to his voice that lets you know he’s teasing you and you can’t help the way your arms reach to wrap around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the snowy peaks of his hair as you grumble in response, but you know he won’t let you away with just that.

you can feel the heat of geto’s gaze from across the room and the way it follows the warm press of the fingers along your skin, the shape of your waist, the swell of your ass and you keen at the attention before they pinches playfully at the skin, making you jolt as you press your chest into his with a short whine.

“n-no.. i’m good.”

“can’t hear you, princess. lil louder f’ me, make sure he can hear you.” gojo almost chuckles with your sensitive little reaction, the heat from your arousal feels like it burns you and now you really wish you’d thrown on something to hide the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. you’re so desperate, needy to feel something before your mind blurs at the feeling of your daddy’s long fingers finally pushing between your thighs to squeeze.

“you’re making her nervous, satoru.” grounds you as geto pushes himself to stand, his eyes seem darker now but the kindness in his expression remains the same as he takes his first careful step into your space. you’re already pliant, like putty when the snowy haired male beside you moves you so easily, pulling at your thigh until you’re pressed perfectly, pretty in his lap while you face his friend — back pressed against his broad chest as he breathes deep along your shoulder.

“that right? you think you can calm her down, sugu?” there’s something carnal in gojo’s words, like a challenge— he knows that nobody could ever beat him when it comes to you, the pleasure he can pull from you is limitless. but he can feel the way you seem to stiffen, your breathing coming in short pants as his bestfriend comes closer until he’s looking down at you both, but his eyes are on you before he crouches down to your level to meet you.

“oh i wouldn’t say that.” his voice seems different now, lower— deeper when you find yourself suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze but your step dad forces you to, fingers circling from behind to hold your jaw gently in place as his other hand pulls at your inner thigh.

you feel so exposed as gojo spreads you so easily with one hand, like he’s serving his pretty little step daughter up to his bestfriend like a meal, although you admit geto’s looking at you like he could devour you completely. your thighs almost tremble with want with the first press of your daddy’s best friends palm against the opposite thigh, helping to hold you open as he admires the already damp spot on your panties.

“but she seems to like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” geto’s words are still smooth despite the way his fingers squeeze in your skin as he leans forward, letting himself press a quick kiss against your clothed pussy before he exhales against you— like he’s taking his first breath of fresh air in years.

the sounds that leave you are humiliating as he pushes deeper into you, letting his tongue tease along the damp fabric— pressing into the swollen bump of your clit all while your step dad holds you in place. your thighs and hips quake, as do your lungs with every staggered inhale you take— you can barely breathe with the way he drinks you up, tongue rolling and curling through your folds so expertly you wouldn’t believe there was still a layer between you both.

you jolt, tremble and gojo knows you’re already close as he curls over you — letting you feel the heavy press of his cock against your lower back as he suckles wet kisses along your throat from behind. “make sure you’re good for sugu, alright, sweet thing.” his words are hissed through his teeth as he rocks into you slightly, pushing his bestfriend’s mouth even deeper between your thighs before his fingers finally hook underneath the fabric of your panties to pull them aside.

“but gotta remember you’re daddy’s girl.” it’s growled, timed well with the way geto’s tongue finally presses against the now exposed skin of your folds, cutting through the glistening petals as he suckles and smacks at the mess. you can’t help but arch back into your stepdad, urging him to let his free hand palm at your tits, twisting and flicking at the raised skin of your nipples through his shirt until you’re whining so greedily for more.

“mmm, see.. so sensitive f’ only me.” his words urge you to turn to meet him and you can taste the possessiveness in gojo’s words when he’s suddenly pushing them between your lips as he kisses you, messy and driven even more by the way geto’s mouth is wrapped around you all while he watches. his long fingers clasp gently around one of your nipples before he pulls and you feel lightheaded with how close you are, feeling the flames of your orgasm lick at your spine as you feel his clothed cock press languidly into you from behind as he licks into your mouth.

“daddy.. please.” you beg against him and the man pulls away to chuckle smugly, suddenly as your chest expands with every shakey breath you struggle to take. you’re so close, you feel too hot for your skin but just as geto closes his lips around your clit to suckle — he pulls away, cheeks wet with slick as he breathes out your step dads name.

“i only needed another second, satoru.”

“nope, times up.” gojo mutters playfully and if you couldn’t feel just how affected he was by this you’d assume he wasn’t at all with how giddy he sounds, but then his attention turns back to you.

“you gonna show him how sweet you are for daddy now? i knew my sweet girl wouldn’t let him tease me like this.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#cw stepcest #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut

[baekuras]

My coworker in regards to cutting my hair “you just need to find one stylist who does it right and stick with them-you were super happy with your hair the last time, why don’t you just go to them again?” Me thinking of the last 4 people who the same thing happened with “they left”

#txts #babe honey bae darling #i fucking would if i could #either i hate my haircut even though its technically a good one #like good execution #wrong fucking style goodbye #or the ppl i rly like and get along with and who cut my hair well fucking leave #i'd need to pay 30bucks and drive about 2 to 3 hours just to get to the one stylist of whom i know where they went #and that isnt worth it to me even if i only go visit every once in a blue moon #oh and also i dont like the general atmosphere or strangers touching me in general so yeah still dont like haircuts #anyhow all this to say i cut a bit of my own hair today and i need to cut it more bc i vibe w/ it #i also wanna take off some lenght in the back but i am a bit scared of that bc i dont have eyes in the back #going w/ good old messy layers and all that again bc #A its easy #and B curls nd waves help hide imperfections there #cuz shit wont be too even either way #and w/ layers i wont have the thing i hate #which is super straight super blunt cuts #i do not want that on my head pls #every time i talk about hair i remember the last time i went to a hairdresser #who curled my hair up at the ends towards my head #like some...idfk princess bob #but like rly oldschool #which....honey.....no #he didnt even cut my fringe even tho i asked him to which also rip #nor added layers #god we have so many hairdressers in this city there should be one in A my pricerange and B my style somewhere #and who i also vibe w/ on a personal level #just me and my right hand as always #that sounds so wrong which is why i'm keeping that sentence exactly as is

[miraclewoozi]

SPECTACLE. -j.ww

in which your new boyfriend, wonwoo, doesn't give a crap about his expensive eyewear.

pairing : wonwoo x fem!reader. content : smut. pwp. tags under the cut. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. w/c : 2.7k. notes : yeah i kinda. went insane over this idea. so. bon appetite to you, and also to wonwoo ? i guess.

content + smut tags : established - but new - relationship. making out. FACE SITTING. impact play? (one gentle butt slap). the shenanigans are on a couch if that matters, i don't know. reader is a little shy about doing it. PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything.

Wonwoo looks flushed when he pulls away from where he’s been kissing and nipping at the side of your neck, hair stuck up in every direction thanks to your tugging fingers and your gentle guidance to help him find your sweet spots. His lips are pink and a little plumped. His glasses are steaming up, sitting halfway down the bridge of his nose, and every slightly heavier breath he takes makes his broad chest rise and fall where it’s pressed wholly against yours.

You can’t help yourself from leaning forward into another kiss; he’s completely irresistible. Maybe the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And while this isn’t really news to you, the dynamic of your relationship with him shifted a month or so ago and you’re still getting used to the privilege of seeing him this close up. 

He’s still adjusting too, if the way he groans directly into your mouth, hands groping harder at the curve of your ass as you shuffle in his lap is anything to judge by. Still learning, still figuring you out. But – and this is how you know what you’re building here might be the real deal – even when it’s clumsy, and when you knock teeth while you’re kissing and burst into slightly pained giggles, or when things accidentally slip out of place while you’re getting steamy… everything Wonwoo does makes your spine tingle. Makes your stomach flip. Makes your core throb. 

Even when it doesn’t always work? It makes sense, and it’s perfect, and losing yourself in the way his lips caress and worship yours is so damn easy when he murmurs your praises just for letting him do this in the first place.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks after a small forever, pulling back just far enough that he's not breathing up your nose. His hands have made their way under your – his – hoodie now and he’s grazing his fingers over your ribs, tickling enough to make you whimper, not enough for you to want to swat him away.

You think you’d give him the world if he asked for it in that deep, rough voice he adopts when things start heading in this direction. The moon too. Shit, if you could get a lasso around the sun and bring it closer to keep him warm, you’d do that as well. So, whatever his little request is now, you know you’re going to agree; resting your hands on his shoulders (finally leaving his gorgeous hair alone), you lean back from him and nod your head.

“Anything,” you say. You’re certain that you feel his cock twitch in his sweatpants where it’s pressed against the inside of your thigh, but you’re not quite sure why. 

It makes you feel hot, though. More-so when he bites back a grin, lips curling in that adorable way. It feels greatly unfair that you can’t swoop down right this second to kiss him again, and again, and again; as painful as it is though, you do exercise enough grace to wait for him to come out with it.

“Get up,” he says softly, dropping his hands down your sides and squeezing at your hips once. 

You do as he asks and move off his lap, sitting on the other side of the couch; he doesn’t say anything else as he stands up himself, pulls his hoodie off over his head and tosses it to one side before sinking all the way down to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t see you. He shuffles into place with his back against the edge of the seat and only once he’s comfortable does he turn to look at you over one shoulder, grinning brilliantly.

“Okay,” he says, bending his knees and planting his heels into the floor. “Come here.”

You stand up off the cushions now and look down at him for a second, wondering what on Earth is going through his mind, but you know better than to start questioning his strange ideas. Especially when he’s in this sort of a mood. You step over him, one foot either side of his hips, and start to drop down too, but he puts a hand on each of your knees and stops you before you’re in his lap once again.

“No,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. His hands then make their way to the backs of your thighs and he pushes forwards, trying to guide you where he wants you. Your knees bend of their own accord and press against the couch on both sides of his head. “Like this.”

You don’t exactly freeze up, but it is as if you forget how to control all of your muscles for a second. The ones in your legs seem to turn to jelly and you know it’s only because the sofa is currently taking a portion of your weight that you don’t buckle completely and fall onto the top of his head. The ones in your face give you a slack-jawed, wide-eyed, unblinking expression. 

Your abdominal muscles tighten and your cunt flutters at what you’re sure he’s trying to suggest, the rush of wetness you feel only worsened by the intensity in his eyes as he tips his head back and looks at you.

“Please?” He asks, all sweet but deep and rough at the same time. 

“Are you s–?” You start to ask. 

Wonwoo clicks his tongue at you and tries to encourage you further onto the couch to prove his point. “Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. 

And then, just so you really can’t mistake what he's asking for–

“I want you to sit on my face.”

Your entire body heats up at how bluntly he says it. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite the inside of your cheek so that you don’t accidentally laugh with the nerves already trying to burst out of your tummy. 

It’s not that you don’t want to. If you had a penny for every time you’d thought about him giving himself up for your pleasure this way, you’d be rich. You do. You’re going a little crazy just imagining how good it’s going to feel. 

It’s just that him being so bold about it has you feeling shy, and that’s never happened to you before. You’re at a loss. You’re totally stumped.

When you open your eyes again and look down at him, Wonwoo is just as earnest and hungry for you as he was a few seconds ago. If anything, it’s as if he wants it more. It’s without a doubt the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re nodding at him; his fingers start to drag up and down the backs of your thighs happily, before they hook under the waistband of your shorts and gently make that first little pull.

“If you don’t like it, we can stop,” he says to you, only pulling them all the way down when you start to help him. They get tossed over to the side to join his hoodie after you step out of them. His eyes glance to the panties you’re wearing – the last barrier, the final thing keeping him from what he’s so desperate for – before he looks back at your face and flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay?”

“It’s not that,” you laugh softly, taking off your own jumper and throwing it onto the pile. Wonwoo groans at the sight of you; you roll your eyes at him. “You just… took me by surprise.”

“Good,” he sighs, wrapping an arm around one of your legs and letting you settle onto your knees in position over his mouth, pressing his fingers into the top of your thigh. 

The first soft press of his lips over your panties makes you gasp and you hold a little tighter onto the back cushions as you look down at him. His eyes are closed already as he breathes your heady scent in, deep enough to hopefully stain his lungs, enough that he’ll never get rid of it, that he’ll be able to carry you everywhere he goes. 

But Wonwoo’s closed eyes aren’t the only thing you notice between your thighs and a soft laugh replaces the pleased sounds already spilling from your lips. One hand drops down to where he's settled and your fingers brush against his temple as they try to pinch at one side of his glasses. He looks affronted when he catches your gaze.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, gently moving your hand away. 

You tilt your head at him. “Your glasses,” you prompt, moving to reach for them again. His fingers curl around your wrist and he shoves your hand into his hair instead, rubbing the tip of his nose against the inside of your thigh.

“I want to keep them on,” he tells you.

“What if they break?”

“Don’t care,” he hums, kissing his way back towards your covered pussy. “I’ll buy a new pair. I just wanna see you.”

You swallow at this and decide that you’re definitely not going to try and change his mind, instead choosing to tilt your head back and let his skilled tongue work you up through your underwear. It’s a mess of arousal and spit and they’re soaked, translucent, clinging to you by the time he’s frustrated with them; frankly, so are you, and it's a relief when he concludes that enough is enough.

“Baby,” he groans as he pulls your underwear to one side and has to crane his neck up to lick the flat of his tongue in a stripe up your slit. You whine, the cool air and his hot breaths a menacing mix of sensations, but you don’t have the sense to respond; one soft slap of his hand against your ass makes you look back down at him, though, and you’re met with dark eyes, flushed cheeks and a practically frenzied Wonwoo in the space between your hips. Your sweet, softly spoken boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“I said, sit.”

His strong arm tugs you down and your knees slide against the cushions, bringing your pussy even closer to his face, literally forcing you to rest against his lips. He chuckles triumphantly and buries his tongue between your folds, tasting you so much more legitimately than before. The way he loves – straight from the source, the spring. You feel him prod at your hole and your walls clench around what he gives you – barely just the tip, but it’s enough to have you reeling already, and when his other arm hooks around your other thigh, when he starts to move you back and forth, you take very little convincing to start to rock your hips down against him on your own.

“Oh,” you whimper as his lips seal around your clit and he sucks at it once, giving a few experimental flicks of his tongue at the same time. The hand in his hair tightens immediately and Wonwoo groans with you still in his mouth, sending delicious vibrations through your sensitive nerves and making you gush onto his chin. 

“So fucking pretty like this,” he tells you, stroking his thumb over your waist. “Might be my new favourite view.”

He keeps lapping at you teasingly, testing circles and sideways motions, precise swipes, long drags; every subtle change as he tries to find what makes you scream in this position draws a different sound from your throat. He tenses the muscle and fucks your dribbling hole with it while encouraging you to move enough forward that his nose bumps against your clit with every jerky rock of your hips. You’re grinding faster, now, pressing down against his mouth harder, caring less by the second about whether his glasses are actually going to break in two. Besides, the way he drinks you down tells you that he could do this for a week straight without getting tired; he doesn’t want you to stop, or slow down, or ease up. He wants more. And if you’re too shy to give it to him, he’ll just take, take, take.

“Just– oh, fuck,” you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again and he laps at it with so much zeal that he could rival your favourite vibrator. “Just like that–”

Both of his hands grasp you tighter, squeezing and massaging and kneading at your soft skin as you chase your high on his pretty face. His eyes are tightly closed in his own rapture, and you hope that he won’t blame you for wanting him to open them; your hand pulls harshly at his hair again, hard enough to make him cringe, enough to make him stop for just a second before he sees how wound-up you look. You try to pull off from him a little, at least enough for him to catch a couple of breaths, but Wonwoo captures your pussy between his lips before you even hear him inhale.

“You– you wanted to s—see me,” you stutter out as the fire starts to catch and you feel warmth and ecstasy start to build at your core. “Fuck– ah–”

So he does. With big, hungry eyes, Wonwoo watches as you hurtle towards oblivion, as you writhe and squirm and grind down against his ardent mouth.

He sends you crashing over the edge with a wet sob, your own eyes closing now as you see stars in the darkness and ride your high out on his still-moving tongue. There are tears on your cheeks before you can do anything about it. Your walls spasm around nothing. He barely slows, taking back enough pressure so that your pleasure doesn’t turn to pain. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even blink until you’re out the other side of your climax, though.

When your pants start to die down and you’re twitching to get away from him, so sensitive that even his tiny kisses make you shudder, Wonwoo drops his head back down to the pillows and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. You don’t have the strength to move yet, still reeling, still too floaty to try for any level of coordination, but he doesn’t mind. Your swollen, glistening pussy right over his face is something he'd pay millions to see.

“Didn’t even break the glasses,” you laugh weakly once your voice decides to come back to you. 

“Mm,” Wonwoo hums, sliding them off his nose and inspecting them. He ‘tsk’s before putting them back on. They’re steamed at the edges and a little smeary now, and he surely can’t actually see that clearly through them. He obviously doesn’t care. “That’s not good enough.”

“Huh?” you ask, moving carefully so as not to plant your knee into his jaw but still trying to bring your legs together so that you can sit to one side. He isn't having it, though, and slowly shuffles up onto his knees, turns around to face you and lays his fingers on one of your ankles, wasting no time in trying to pry your legs apart again.

“That’s. Not. Good. Enough,” he repeats, using his other hand to palm himself over the fabric of his sweatpants. The tent in them would be comical if it weren’t for the animalistic look in his eyes; there’s nothing laughable about the way he’s looking at you right now, though.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” You ask, opening back up for him and not hiding how you stare as he rips his shirt off over his head. Then, he slides his fingertips up the inside of your calf, to your knee, down your thigh… he drags them over the lips of your pussy and collects a little of your slick on them before bringing his hand to his lips and sucking it clean.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he tells you, groaning at your sweet taste as if he wasn’t just drowning in it a minute and a half ago. He lowers himself until he's once more level with your cunt and guides both of your legs over his shoulders, smirking up at your expectant face. “Maybe try to squeeze your thighs a little more this time. See if that does the trick.”

thank you so much for reading!! i hope u enjoyed this hehe. as always, likes, reblogs, replies, feedback and asks are always super appreciated.<3

#wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #* #j writes. #this is the best title i've ever given anything and if you disagree. argue with the wall #i'm fucking hilarious. anyway don't perceive me. #taking myself to horknee jail right this second

[boyfhee]

박성훈 、PRETTY FACE

all the trouble sunghoon gets himself in lands him in your arms.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader

contents ⋆ kissing, mentions of cuts, injuries and blood, just a whole lot of fluff i miss writing cute stuff, insecurities perhaps ( 1370 )

notes ⋆ rich boy sunghoon....save me from him. also this was not meant to be above a thousand words and was supposed to be funny. and this one's for saint @hoonvrs hi bae

one thing you’ve learnt while dating sunghoon, it’s always an adventure. so unforeseen, like when he showed up at your balcony, again, last night with a few bruises and cuts on his face. you had let him in and he avoids your attempt at cupping his face just as swiftly. and dating sunghoon is exhilarating, with the way you let him stay for the night, again, knowing your parents are home.

“good morning,” you smile and brush your thumb over the cut on the corner of his lips. it’s red, his lips are dry, and yet they’re soft when you lean down for a quick peck. 

“morning, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “how creepy of you to watch me sleep,”

“guess i’ll be a creep if it means i get to look at your handsome face,” you hum, fighting back a smile.

“is that a compliment i hear?” and he’s almost turning away to sleep, but your words catch him off, and he smirks drowsily with a soft and sleepy gaze adorning you. “what’s the occasion?”

“i’m serious, hoon. you’re handsome,” you insist with a frown, cupping his face again, thumb brushing over his cheeks as you lean in and whisper ever so tenderly. “so handsome, it’s crazy,”

“well, aren’t you sweet, my love,” and he can’t help but wrap his arms around you, pulling you on top of him. it’s quiet, you lay with your head on his chest. it’s barely six, you look out through the huge glass window panes installed in your room by your request to fit the aesthetic, but now it’s how sunghoon climbs up your room every other night. 

it’s not usual for him to get compliments. usually, you’re trying to play it cool, as if his words don’t affect you as much as he thinks they do. on other days, you’re busy rolling your eyes every time he flirts. you make him work for compliments, it’s funny, and he enjoys it. a little bit of challenge in his way too easy lifestyle keeps him going. but today— as you’re quietly listening to his heartbeat while he’s caressing your back— you want to stay like this. 

he brushes his fingers through your hair, planting soft kisses on your head every few seconds. it’s rare for you two to be this quiet. with sunghoon, every minute spent on bed leads to something else, most of the time. but this time it’s silent, it’s risky, he’s in your room and as much as he jokes about it, the idea of being caught by your parents isn’t something either of you fancy.

“i think i should get up and leave before your—” it lands upon you to worry about keeping everything a secret, today it’s his job to make sure the secret is safe.

“it stings, doesn’t it?” you cut him off immediately, pinning him down as he tries to get up. he can see the concern in your eyes, worries trickling through your finger tips and seeping through his skin when you lace your fingers over his scratches. 

“i told you, they’re not that bad,” he shrugs, too careless, carefree. he doesn’t know why you worry yourself over something so minor. “they don’t even hurt,” 

“it hurts me to see you like this,” and his thoughts are put to halt when the words leave your mouth. 

it was half past one when sunghoon knocked at the glass doors of your balcony. you were getting ready for bed after movies, and he was avoiding your gaze as you were running your eyes over his state— messy, hurt, and so were you.  

‘did you get into another fight with heeseung?’ you had asked and he avoided, again, dodging all your questions and attempts to check on him. you let him in, and he goes straight to your bathroom. his gaze doesn’t meet your eyes, he avoids all the eye contact and conversation. he turns away to take off his shirt covered in dirt. it’s worse this time. ‘come here,’ 

you grabbed his arm to pull him towards you, but he refused to face you. he’s ashamed, like every time he is when you see him like this. the pretty face you’ve always been so fond of no longer fits the definition. you tried to make him look at you, but he grabbed your hands, kissing your palms and pulled you to bed. 

“is that a new way of telling me to not get into fights?” he asks, feigning a yawn, a faint chuckle following by. you’re still on top of him, pinning him down, and if he didn’t know any better, you would’ve ended up under him already. 

“is it working?”

“a bit,” he mumbles quietly and pulls you closer by your waist, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. he keeps planting tender kisses on your cheeks, and then down on your neck, as if telling you to let go of all the concerns that plague your mind. “you worry too much,”

“i know, i will continue to do that,” you pull back again, much to his disappointment. nothing could compare to the feeling of having you in his arms. “if not for your dad and for the sake of your reputation then at least for me, you need to stop,”

sunghoon knows.

if not for anything— it isn’t for anything else. not for his mother’s million dollars fashion brand, not for his sister’s business ventures, nor his father’s political career. it’s for you, every scratch, every nip and every cut, every drop of blood that had trickled down the corner of his lips when heeseung landed a punch on his face. how could he not? sunghoon can stand anything but people talking down on you as if they know you. it makes him fight for you and funnily enough, he’s happy to bleed to death for you.

“you always ruin the mood, bringing that old man up,” he’s deflecting— just as you had expected and you’re not backing down. one leg swinging to the other side, arms by his head. he’s down, caged, a position where he can’t avoid you. it’s about time you two had this conversation.

“i’m serious,” you’re trying your best to keep up the stern face, eyes locked into his. 

“i love it when you get all serious, angel,” he grins suggestively, arms around your waist again. he’s slipping them under your top, you slap it away and it only makes him laugh in amusement. “i suppose it is a bit too early for that,”

you don’t say anything, just looking at his pretty face. you stroke softly over the cut on his cheekbone and he flinches ever so slightly. it’s new, it stings, adorned by a bit of dried up blood just like the one on his lips. there’s one near his jaw from a while ago, it’s healing. each and every part an ugly reminder of how much trouble he gets in.

“you’re such a pretty face,” you whisper quietly and lean down to kiss him, trying to be so gentle to not hurt him even more. you take your sweet time, tracing your lips over those wounds, new or old, and then speaking with a voice impossibly loving. “even with these,”

“i love it when you call me that,” he takes your hand, kissing your palms. it’s not everyday that he’s spoiled like this.

and you pull your hand back, speaking with frown as if giving him a warning. “i won’t anymore if you get into another fight,”

“guess we’re making truce with heeseung,” he chuckles quietly, shaking his head, pretending to be annoyed. he finally pulls you down next to him and wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “things i do for my girl,”

you let out a muffled laughter while your face is buried in his chest before looking up at him with love pouring out of your eyes. “for me?”

“for you,” you hand rests on his cheeks as he leans down for a kiss, and his hands wrap over them gently, holding them in place. when you kiss him so deeply yet delicately, like it’s a stellar reunion, he pulls away just for a brief second, whispering against your lips. “everything,”

#—approved. #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon soft hours #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft thoughts

[ellecdc]

Hi gorggg can i request an angst wolfstar fic where reader is kind of insecure of her placement within their relationship? like they’re both so close already and she’s a new addition so she kinda just feels out of place.

thank you for your amazing writing!! doing the world a favor❤️❤️❤️

Hey babes! Thanks SO much for the request 'cause truly, this is my shit. Now, I have to admit that I'm obsessed with these fics that have the same vibe by moonstruckme (poly!marauders) and super-clearlysaltybouquet (poly!wolfstar), so really, they're the blueprints/inspiration for this piece

also...I'm a whore for hurt/comfort. But you asked for ANGST...so I've given you only angst and no comfort. If you want comfort, you'll have to ask for a part two 💖 hope you love it!!! UPDATE: part two is here.

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: insecurities in relationship, feeling out of place, angst, hurt no comfort

It felt silly, really, to feel as sad as you did. You were currently sitting with two boys who you’ve been basically in love with for so long - two boys who have proclaimed to feel the same way about you - and on the outside you were sure this looked like a really lovely moment.

It just didn’t feel very lovely. 

You didn’t think your discontentedness stemmed from anything the boys had done in particular, but even seeing the way they instinctively leaned closer to one another when anyone else approached the three of you left you feeling like an outsider looking in.

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe this was just your insecurities showing.

Or maybe…maybe…the three of you had made a mistake.

Maybe you weren’t cut out for polyamory; it certainly wasn’t for the weak, and it certainly wasn’t easy being the newest addition to the relationship. 

You felt lost in most conversations, missing key information that inside jokes, years of friendship, and living together in the same tower - the same dorm room – led to. It felt as though they were fluent in a language you were only starting to pick up, and you didn’t want them to have to slow down for your sake. You didn’t want one of them to have to play the role of translator just for your benefit. 

But then, why were you here?

You weren’t calm, relaxed, and witty like Remus. And you weren’t funny, exciting, and energetic like Sirius. They seemed to already balance each other out perfectly; maybe that’s why it felt so easy to fall into the role of a background character in your own relationship.

There was a brief ‘honeymoon’ period to your relationship; a time of public proclamations, handholding and PDA, dates, and spending every moment the three of you could together.

It was exciting.

And then it was less exciting – not to you, never to you - but it seemed to be that way for them.

Suddenly, it was dates and then them returning to their dorm – back home – without you. It was silent conversations with nothing but a look between the two of them that didn’t include you in the slightest. It was professors announcing partner projects, and them pairing together immediately which was fine, you told yourself, because you always partnered with Shelby anyway and that’s the way it had always been before.

Before. 

This is the way it had always been before. 

So, what were you doing here, exactly? What were you doing sitting on a blanket near the Black Lake with a book in your hand, while Sirius’ hand gripped around your ankle gently as Remus played with Sirius’ hair from where his head was laying in his lap, whilst Sirius and Remus talked about pranks, something funny that James said, and setting Peter up with some Hufflepuff girl? 

You could tell you were being insecure… that you were overthinking this. You could tell you were being unreasonable because every so often, Sirius’ hand wouldn’t just be resting around your ankle, but he would squeeze it gently or rub his thumb across your Achilles tendon as if to convince himself that you were still here; still real. And every so often, Remus would move his gaze from where it laid on his own book or away from Sirius whom he was speaking with to look at you… check on you… confirm you were still there; still okay. 

They cared. They had to, right? Cared that you were here? They wouldn’t have asked you otherwise, surely. They wouldn’t be making the effort to keep a hand on you, or their eyes on you. Surely, they would never have decided to open their relationship to include you in it.

But there it was…the truth.

It was their relationship. And they’d opened it up for you.

It should be the second part of that sentence that spoke to you the most, but in your mind and insecurities, the second seemed like the whole truth. 

This was their relationship.

You shouldn’t be here.

“You still with us, dove?” Remus asked gently, distracting you from your musings. You suddenly realized that your book you were holding had fallen limply into your lap and you were staring unseeingly at the Black Lake. The boys had apparently paused their conversation to look at you, and Sirius’ thumb continued its tender caressing of the soft of your joint.

“Yeah.” You said, but it came out scratchy. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, sorry, I must have zoned out for a second.”

Sirius wiggled your ankle. “Daydreaming again, huh? About us I bet.” He teased with a wink. 

You wiggled your ankle back at him as he leaned his head up from Remus’ lap, lips puckered in an ask (a demand) for a kiss.

This may be fleeting, so who were you to deny him?

You leaned forward on one hand, the other still holding your book, and pressed a kiss to the black-haired boy’s lips. He smiled into it and let you go all too willingly as you leaned back and tried to focus on your book. 

The air around you began to feel heavy before the sound of distant thunder permeated your hearing.

“Damn, I guess Scottish weather isn’t very reliable, hm?” Remus said as he began packing up his things.

“It’s too bad.” Sirius murmured as he began to stand. “I was having a nice time out here with you two.”

You smiled back at him as he extended a hand to help you up.

“We’re still on for a study date tomorrow after dinner, right?” He asked you when you were at your full height.

“Yeah, sure. If you guys will have me.” You responded shyly, hating that you even hinted at any of your insecurities.

Sirius scoffed in response, but it was Remus who answered. “’Course we do, dove. We’re looking forward to it.”

You felt like you should be a little embarrassed at the way your heart fluttered hopefully at the sentiment, but you focused instead on Sirius’ smile and Remus’ soft eyes as the three of you made your way back to the castle. 

You hadn’t seen the boys at all today. You unfortunately slept through your alarm, making you miss breakfast completely; generally, you’d sit with Sirius, Remus, and their friends at the Gryffindor table. The two of them were no shows for lunch, so you opted to sit with Shelby instead. And it was Friday, and on Friday’s you didn’t share any classes with them, meaning by the time you made it to dinner, you’d not seen or heard from them at all.

“Hey James.” You commented as you headed towards James, Lily, and Regulus sitting at the Slytherin table. “Have you seen Rem or Sirius at all today?” Of course, you knew that he had, he lived with them.

James seemed to grimace slightly, but the expression was fleeting before he was smiling at you again. 

He knew something you didn’t.

“The last I heard they were talking about your study date tonight.” He offered. You could tell he was putting on an extra show of enthusiasm for your benefit. You tried to be grateful for it, but it left a sour taste in your mouth, nonetheless.

“Okay, thank you.” You said as you turned to head to find a seat with Shelby. 

“Oh, Y/N.” Lily called after you. “You’re welcome to sit with us, if you’d like?”

You grinned gratefully at Lily as she smiled kindly at you, even though your heart clenched on account of the clearly pitying offer. Was it as obvious to everyone else as it was to you that you were so out of place with Remus and Sirius? Could they all see it too?

“That’s alright. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” You called as you walked away.

The boys weren’t avoiding you, were they? Surely, they would have said something to you if there was a problem.

Although, perhaps they wouldn’t, seeing as you had clearly been spiraling for some time now and have yet to discuss it with them.

Would they even meet you in the library later? Certainly, they would have said if something came up…if you needed to reschedule.

No. 

You were obviously being silly. You hadn’t seen them all day, but they hadn’t seen you either – it was just a coincidence. You were fine.

Except you weren’t fine. Because it was about seven minutes after the time you had agreed to meet them before the boys joined you in the library. Remus offered you a hasty “sorry we’re late, dove” and a squeeze of your shoulder before taking a place at the table across from you, and Sirius pecked a quick kiss into your hair and sat beside you without saying a word.

It was painfully awkward. You’d asked them how their days were – Remus answered for the both of them before he asked you how yours was in turn.

After two more (failed) attempts on your part to make conversation, the rest of the study session was spent in silence. And not a comfortable silence.

It was the kind of silence that had you checking your surroundings every so often. The kind of silence that made you feel as if bugs were crawling over your skin.

Every time you looked across at Remus, he seemed to be shooting concerned glances over at Sirius. Every time you looked in your periphery at Sirius, you could see he was zoned out, eyes rimmed and red like he’d been crying or angrily rubbing at them. 

If something was wrong, they would have told you – right?

If they were regretting being with you, they wouldn’t have shown - right? 

If they were going to break up with you, they wouldn’t do it in the library of all places.

Right?

Your musings were interrupted when Sirius let out a sharp breath and closed his book unceremoniously. 

“Sorry guys, I’m not feeling the best. I think I’m going to pack it up.”

Remus immediately perked up, looking like he was ready to pack up too. “Okay, do you want company?”

Do you want me to come with you?

“No, that’s alright. Don’t let me impede your studying. I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?”

I’ll talk to you more in our dorm room when we’re alone, Remus.

“Sorry, sweets. I’ll make it up to you.” He said as he hugged you from behind and kissed your neck. 

“Okay, I hope you feel better.” You offered as you awkwardly pat his arms. He gave you a half-hearted smile before quickly exiting the library.

Once his figure disappeared from your vision, you turned back to see Remus still looking towards the way Sirius just left; he was still poised as if he was ready to pack up and go after him.

You suddenly felt guilty…because if you weren’t here, he would be going… He’d be going after his boyfriend and comforting him through…whatever he’s going through.

So now, here you were keeping Remus from where he really wanted to be, and Sirius from having the support that he needs…that he deserves.

My gods, you’ve made such a terrible mistake. How did the three of you not notice?

“Sorry about that, love.” Remus mentioned quietly, offering you a half smile. “He…he got a letter from his family today. He doesn’t really talk about it with people.”

He talked about it with you, though.

“It usually takes him a day or two to sort it out before he comes back to us.”

You mean back to you, James, and Peter…

“I’ll talk to him.”

When you leave me…to go to him.

You hated even feeling petulant about it. One of the things you loved about these boys was how much they loved each other. The trust, the affection, the care…you had just hoped that somehow, you’d get to enjoy those things too.

You offered him the best smile you could muster as you turned back towards your book. You could no longer make the words out as your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill out over the arithmancy calculations spread below you. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. Not to Remus, not to Sirius…and certainly not to yourself. You deserved better, all three of you did. 

You were being selfish, inserting yourself into their relationship like this; demanding things from them that they didn’t owe you.

“You know what,” you offered quietly, clearing your throat as your voice came out scratchy, grating along the lump lodged in your throat. “I think I’ve gotten enough studying done for tonight.”

You stood and started piling your things together. 

“Oh…are, are you sure?” Remus asked like he was willing to argue, but he too was standing and starting to pack his bag – eager to get to his dorm and check on Sirius. 

“Yeah, I did some work on it at dinner as well.”

Remus grimaced slightly at that.

“I’m sorry dove, really. The three of us clearly haven’t had a great day. I’ll talk to Sirius, and I promise we’ll all be back in sync in no time.”

You looked into his eyes and saw sincerity.

Back in sync.

Were we ever in sync to begin with?

“Can I walk you to your dorm?” He asked as he made to move around the table, but he paused at you quickly shaking your head.

“No, no I’m alright. I can find my way.” You tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. No, don’t worry about it just – uhm – just make sure he’s okay for me, yeah?” You asked as you walked backwards to the door. Remus must’ve picked up something in your tone, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked you up and down.

“I really am sorry, Y/N. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You quickly wiped away a stray tear that found its way out of your water line and gave him the biggest smile you could muster.

This was better, you thought, let everyone out of their misery.

“’Course. I’ll, uhm, I’ll see you around, Lupin.”

And you left. 

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