#and idk how i would word it but this feels like the latter. or forcing a story into a different mold and pretending there's no issue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bsxcrxts · 10 months

Text

comfort

Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

MINORS DNI. AGE IN BIO TO INTERACT WITH MY WORKS.

word count: 5.4k longest oneshot I've ever written whoops

Contains: Luke being sad and hurt, mentions of blood and bruising (not in detail), reunion between reader and Luke post-Dagobah training and Cloud City duel, angst just due to the whole situation in general, a whole lot of tension, blowjobs, inappropriate use of the force, unprotected sex (don't do this irl unless you want a baby idk what to say), somewhat subby/needy Luke, he's pathetic. a wet cat of a man in this and I love him

A/N : This is self-indulgent, soft, nasty, and probably poorly researched. Reader's not a nurse or a doctor, just a concerned gal with a crush, and Star Wars medicine is made up anyway. I have no idea why she's on the Falcon at this point but fuck it, we ball!

You find yourself trailing after Luke in an effort to get him to rest; whatever the hell he just went through in Cloud City initially had him almost feverish, tossing around on the cot in your little makeshift medbay and muttering about things you didn't understand, things about Ben and lies and Vader. But when he sensed the latter, he shot out of bed and right back into the cockpit of the Falcon, open wounds be damned, apparently.

He just doesn't quit, you thought to yourself, momentarily enamored with his strength and somewhat miffed he's left, but then your stomach sank as you also realize you don't even know how bad the rest of his injuries even are.

You and Leia had managed to fit him with the stabilizer on his right arm before she had to excuse herself to help navigate the Falcon away from the Imperial Fleet, and you didn't get much further on assessing Luke before he snapped out of whatever fervor he'd been in and followed her. You didn't run after him, too busy trying to scour the pitiful excuse of a medkit on the Falcon for more supplies and knowing it would be a lost cause anyway– he can be incredibly headstrong when it comes to helping his friends. But you've made the jump to hyperspace now, you've felt the engines shift. It should be safe, and you're pretty sure he should really, really rest.

Creeping into the cockpit of the Falcon, you see Luke slumped in one of the second-row seats, clutching a blanket around himself. He's not speaking in hushed tones to himself anymore, but in the blue light of hyperspace, his eyes look so tired. You lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

It's not the first time you've touched him in months, but it feels like it is– you had cradled him in your arms for a moment when Leia ushered him into the room for the first time a half an hour ago, but Luke wasn't focused then, and he definitely wasn't well enough to hold conversation with you. And the last time you saw him before today was many moons ago, before he left to become a Jedi.

Luke's face snaps up to yours. Your hand is warm and welcoming on his arm, and he wants more than anything to lean into your touch, but he still feels uneasy, like he's unsure if that would be okay with you, for some reason. The recent revelations about his parentage have left him uncomfortable with himself, even if you don't know yet. If you'll ever know.

Meanwhile, your eyes rake over his features. His lip is split and he has a gash and an impact mark across his cheekbone just under his left eye. The reunion between the two of you is soured by defeat and injury, but despite yourself, when he gazes up at you, part of you insists he looks good. Really good. You linger too long on the cut on his mouth before you force yourself to snap out of it.

"Hey," you whisper. For some reason, you're embarrassed. You haven't spoken to him in a long time.

Luke has the audacity to crack a tiny smile up at you from where he's sitting, just for a moment. He breathes out your name and leans his head against your side where you're standing next to him.

"I have a headache," he says, more like he's thinking out loud than anything. It's an excuse he's made for himself to lay against you even for the briefest time, but it's also true. His head pounds.

Luke pulls away and lifts his face back up to look at you again. There's an emotion that you've never seen before behind his eyes. "Sorry," he says quietly, like it's an afterthought. Only he seems to know why he's apologizing.

"You should go lay down again. I-I can help you with the rest of your injuries and you can rest," you say.

"You’re right," Luke sighs, and stands up shakily. He doesn't stumble, but you put a steadying hand on his back anyway, just to remind him that you're there.

The short walk back to his cot is silent. It's awkward. You know you shouldn't ask about what happened, that Luke will tell you when he's ready, but you don't know what else to say, so you say nothing.

When you do start speaking, your words just sort of tumble out. You're talking to fill the space. Luke has never been this quiet before.

"Here," you gesture, "sit on the edge of the bed. I know I said you could lay down, but I'm worried you're concussed, so maybe you shouldn't fall asleep. You said you have a headache. Do you think you have a concussion?" you ask, as if he'd know.

For his part, Luke just shakes his head at you. "I'll be alright," he insists. He doesn't know if he believes it, but he can't think of anything else to tell you to make you feel better.

Right, you think. Stubborn. Luke occasionally has a sense of over-confidence about himself, you've seen it when he talks about piloting or whatnot, and he's never been wrong about his limits, just cocky, but this time it seems almost put-on, like a show. You let it slide.

"I know," you say, and softly smile at him. When he halfheartedly returns your smile, it pulls on the cut on his lip, and you remember why you're here.

You retrieve a wet cloth and start dabbing at the sticky, tacky blood decorating his face. You take his chin in your other hand, and Luke closes his eyes while you wipe at the near-dried blood. His eyebrows knit when you get too close to a bruise, but he doesn't outwardly complain, and you move on swiftly.

Your heart is beating far too quickly given Luke's condition. He is seriously injured, and clearly went through something not only physically horrible but also mentally taxing back in Cloud City, but he's gorgeous right now.

The way his hair is parted and tousled reminds you of what he's looked like in the past, under much more pleasant circumstances. You don't know what you are to Luke; you have an absolute raging crush on him and he obviously likes you too, but he leaves to go off on his own. A lot. The two of you never talk about it. If you acted on your arousal, it actually wouldn't be the first time you'd have slept with him after he narrowly escaped death, but this feels... different.

Luke breathes out a little sigh as you glide the cloth across his cheekbone. Your stomach ties itself in knots, and you freeze.

He notices that you've paused your ministrations and opens his eyes, looking up at you expectantly. His eyes are the clearest you've seen from him today, and just as blue as always. You panic a bit, hoping he can't perceive your inappropriately-timed desire.

"I need to grab some bacta," you mutter, and remove your hand from his chin.

This time when you return, he keeps his eyes open.

Luke can sense something from you, but he isn't sure what. His relationship with the Force isn't in the best shape, but he knows you've been thinking very hard about something and he's almost afraid to find out what.

“You must be sick of taking care of me," Luke ventures as you carefully apply the bacta gel to a cut on his forehead. "Ever since you got to know me, I just keep getting hurt.”

He says it in that tone he uses when he's making a dry joke that isn't a joke at all.

“Hey, I’ll always help clean you up," you reassure.

"At least both sides of my face will be even now," he continues, referring to the scarring on his left side from the Wampa attack earlier that year.

"You look– you look good," you stutter out, finding yourself shy again. Luke doesn't even take the compliment before he keeps going.

“You’re not put-off?”

“By what?”

It's quiet. Luke doesn't answer. You realize he's talking about the fact he lost his hand in the battle. You sink down to sit next to him, forgotten bacta pack dropped to the floor.

"Luke, no, I don't think–"

“He said some things about me…" Luke trails off, and you know the unnamed he in that sentence means Vader. "I’m worried I’ll turn out like him. That I’ll fall to the dark side. But I can’t stand by and do nothing, I can’t,” he insists, passionate.

“You’re not like him."

Luke looks down at his feet, unconvinced.

You lean over and kiss his cheek, meaning to comfort him, watching a blush spread over his features.

"You're not him, okay?" you reaffirm, face feeling heated. Your hands slide over his arm and down his back in a reassuring motion. You intended to pull away to get more bacta, but Luke leans into you.

"Can I–?" he asks softly. You nod, and he catches your mouth in another kiss.

He's overeager, teeth clacking against yours as he licks into your mouth and tries to get as close to you as bodily possible. In contrast, you try to stay gentle, refusing to even playfully nip at him like you otherwise might. The gash on his upper lip splits open anyway, sending him a shock of pain that should stop his motions, but he just groans into your mouth and keeps kissing you.

"You're bleeding!" you exclaim as taste blood and break away from him.

"S'okay," Luke whines, protesting your concern. It's evident how much he doesn't want to stop; he follows you as you pull away, tilting forward. You ignore the rush of arousal flooding your system at his shameless display and grab a bit of gauze and press it to the scrape.

"Look, it's fine. See?" Luke asserts when there's hardly even a few drops of his blood on the cloth as you remove it. Obviously vying to kiss you again.

It's hard to resist him and his pleading puppy-like eyes. You press a quick peck to his forehead.

"Hold still," you say, "I need to put a bit of bacta on that so it heals." It's the justification you're using, because if he keeps kissing you, you're going to lose control and the little scrape will never heal. Luke decides to give in to you as the voice of reason.

"There," you state when you've finished with his face. "Now..." you trail off, eyeing the gashes through the fabric of his fatigues and once again feeling bizarrely nervous, "You should. You should take your shirt off next."

"Right," he sighs, feeling unsure. He reaches up with his left hand and starts undoing the fastens on his shirt.

"I could help you?" you offer softly.

"Sure," he nods.

You gently help him out of his shirt, careful of the cut in his upper left arm and scrape across his elbow that tore through even the fabric of the shirt. The shirt is falling apart, burned in places and ripped in others, and you sort of drop the fabric off to the side, unsure if it's salvageable.

When you look back up, the breath feels like it's been punched out of you.

Luke was always lean, a scrappy sort of muscular but this is new. You remind yourself you haven't seen him in months and that he's been off doing stars-know-what during his Jedi training. Behind the bruises and scrapes, he's built a bit of muscle, more defined than last time. Your eyes dart across his body; his arms alone have you biting your lip, feeling more butterflies in your stomach than ever before.

Luke catches you looking at him, catches you eyeing him up and down like you'd like to devour him, and he just gazes back at you. The blush on his cheeks from earlier never went away.

You convince yourself to slow down and wipe the dried blood off his arms and torso. There's no way to avoid how close the two of you are; you've practically wormed your way into standing between his legs as you dab bacta on the cuts and bruises that litter his midsection. Shamefully, you think about how good he smells, sweat be damned.

Luke audibly groans when you slide your hand across his shoulders in preparation to hold his arm up while you apply the medical salve. Your fingers dig slightly in to his sore musculature and he can't hold back.

"Sorry," you choke out, "want me to stop?"

"Mm-mm. Feels good, actually."

You feel another crack in your resolve form as you slather bacta along his cuts and bruises.

Luke is far enough gone himself, and you try not to notice. His breathing rate increased the second you started touching him, and he knows a hard-on would be ill-timed right now, but he kind of doesn't care that he can feel a tent beginning to form in his pants. It's a welcome distraction from the absolute shit day he's had, and he really, really missed you. The feeling of your hands on his body is unparalleled, so welcome and warm.

The logical choice of waiting even a day in order to prevent his wounds from re-opening is losing appeal for him.

You, however, continue to grasp onto logic. Not meeting his eyes as you finish applying the bacta, you step away from him and turn to fiddle with the medkit.

“Okay, I think it's alright for you to lay down now. I’ll go so you can rest," you say. You don't want to leave him, but it's the responsible thing. You'll go lay in your own bunk and mind your own business. He's hurt, he needs repose, he–

“Don’t go.”

Not turning around, you go to answer. “Luke, you need—"

“I need you,” Luke insists, desperately. He reaches out and grabs your wrist lightly, like he moved without thinking.

It's very calculated, however, when you turn around and he raises your hand to his cheek and plants a kiss on the palm of your hand.

"Please?" he breathes, eyes wide, looking up at you and begging. His hand hasn't left yours where it rests on the side of his face.

“Oh, baby,” you sigh adoringly, your heartbeat in your throat and your determination to let him alone long gone as you return to stand in between his spread legs. You'd normally settle down on his thighs and grind against him, where you know Luke likes you best, but right now you're sure to be gentle as you can. You're a bit worried about whatever unknown bruising could be beneath the pants he didn't even get off before he couldn't resist you anymore.

“Kriff, it’s been so long. Missed you,” Luke mutters against your mouth between kisses.

"Yeah?" you ask, losing the brain capacity to answer coherently as Luke buries his face in the crook of your shoulder and sucks a kiss into the juncture of your skin.

Any gentle peck you try to give Luke turns dirty as he doubles down in passion every time, almost refusing to let any kiss end until the two of you are gasping for air. He's desperate to touch you, and yes, your hands are cradling his face and he loves it, but you're still somewhat leaning away from him, standing over him as he sits in front of you. He wants.

It's accidental, what happens next. You feel a sudden pressure against your lower back that nudges at you until you tip forward, catching yourself just inches before you would have fallen against Luke, your knee coming to rest in between the junction of his legs. In your new position, he immediately grinds his hard cock on your thigh, the drag of his sizeable length suddenly against you. It's accidental, but it's what he needs.

You break the kiss and gasp. The Falcon hasn't shifted out of hyperspace and you're not off-balance.

"Baby?" you inquire, the question unspoken. Did you just use the Force to move me? Many of Luke's abilities are new. If it was him, it was a recent development, at least in your experience.

"'m sorry," Luke whines, "I didn't mean to– I don't know what happened," but even as he says it, he's practically fucking himself against you, the strain of his bulge in his khaki pants borderline painful.

You're too turned on to even admonish him. You wouldn't if you could. You liked it, liked how his growing desire for you was overwhelming him to the point of losing control.

"Need me that bad?" you tease.

You hardly expect a response, but Luke keens and thrusts hard against your leg, his cock aching and his voice catching on a moan. "Ah-h!! Angel, I told you I do," he mewls. The flush on his face is as red as you've ever seen him.

“Let me take care of you,” you coo as you sink down onto the floor. Unable to resist, you shove your nose against Luke's clothed cock, inhaling his scent and mouthing at him over his disgusting khakis.

"Oh that's– you don't have to–" Luke starts, squirming.

"Want to," you answer, kissing and licking at his bulge until the fabric covering him is damp, from his dripping cock or from your mouth, you aren't sure. His dick throbs, straining painfully against his clothing. "Wanna see your pretty cock even more though," you continue.

You don't have to tell him twice. He scrambles to unzip his pants and you help him, pulling his flushed cock from the confines of his underwear. It bobs against his stomach and smears pre-cum across his torso, across his newly-defined abs. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and lick a bit of the pre-spend off of him, which only makes his erection kick and leak more.

You place an open-mouthed kiss to his cock as you move lower, and then take him into your mouth.

"F-fuck! Your mouth, oh, you ffeel s' ohh," Luke exclaims, incoherent when you first take him into your throat, fisting the rest of his cock in your hand as you bob up and down on him. He almost thrashes, hips jerking forward and hand coming to rest in your hair, not pulling just there, a guiding weight that has you moving at an even pace, sucking at the head of his cock and popping off of him every once in a while to kiss the underside or tip of his member and make him writhe underneath you. Your cunt clenches around nothing when he moans or squirms for you.

As you slide your mouth off his cock, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip, his body jerks. He fucks his cock against your lips and his hips stutter against your mouth, like he can't take one second without you.

"Stars, baby, like my mouth that much?"

"I like all of you that much."

His declaration is unbearably hot, and you reward him by deepthroating him as far as you can take him, throat constricting around him and your eyes watering.

Luke inhales sharply, surprised by your sudden action.

“S-stop.”

“Is something wrong?” you ask, pulling off of him, immediately conscious of his delicate state and concerned he's started bleeding or something like that.

“'m close. Almost came,” Luke admits shyly, looking off to the side and not meeting your eyes. He still isn't quite comfortable with how fast his body finishes with you, even though you've told him several times how much his eagerness and sensitivity turned you on.

“That's the point, right?” you affirm lightly, running a hand up his thigh. "You wanna cum in my mouth?"

Luke looks at you, blushing fiercely. “I don't wanna cum yet at all," he whines, softly guiding you up from your kneeling position on the floor. He kisses you, absolutely claiming your mouth before he nuzzles his face into your neck, "I don't want this to be over," he confesses, and he sounds both desperate and a bit sad.

"Doesn't have to be," you say, settling into a somewhat more dominant role, but keeping your tone is still gentle. He's liked it in the past when you take the lead, so you try it out. "Tell me what you want."

The shift in your attitude has Luke suddenly shameless, pressing himself bodily against you until the two of you can't honestly get any physically closer.

"I wanna be inside you. I-inside your pussy,” he whines.

His words send shockwaves up your spine and you bite your lip, clenching around nothing.

"A-and," he chokes out, rutting against your thigh like he's an animal, "I want you to make me wait."

You won't make him clarify the last part. You're plenty aware that's his way of asking you to edge him, to control his orgasm so he doesn't finish 'too soon', a game you've played before with him, and he's already shy about it. It makes sense right now, especially since you're basically letting him use you like a distraction from the absolute shit day he's had, that he doesn't want this to end.

"Ask me nicely," you urge.

"Please can I fuck your pussy?" Luke gasps.

"Fuck yes, oh my god," you answer, kissing him and shoving your pants and undergarments off and straddling his lap. "Need your fingers first though. C'mere," you grab at his hand and pull his digits along your slit.

Luke almost wants to groan in protest, feeling suddenly very impatient, but he practically chokes as he runs his fingers through your wetness. His eyes roll back in his head when he slips a finger inside of you, shocked at your state of arousal, and you loosely wrap your hand around his dick. He starts grinding against your hand immediately and you know you're going to have to slow him down eventually if he wants to last.

"Shit, u-um," he throws his head back to look up at you. "You're soaked. Just f-from having your mouth on me?" he ventures, feeling like he needs reassurance in this moment for some reason.

“Mm! Been– been getting like this since you started making those cute noises while I was patching you up.”

"Yeah?" Luke is soaking the praise up, working his fingers in and out of you and across your clit with as much focus as he can. He's inexperienced with his left hand, but you'd never guess. Your cunt is dripping around him down to his wrist.

"You make such perfect sounds, baby," you promise him. "Ah-h!" you exclaim when he brushes up against that spot inside you, "fuck, baby, keep going."

Luke nods against you. "Keep talking? Please?" he asks, so sweetly.

"I never get used to how big you are. You have such a pretty cock, Luke. Helping me first so I can even think about taking it."

He sinks two digits to the knuckles into you cunt and presses hard on your g-spot.

"Ohh-!! Baby!" you shout, caught off guard. "You're so good– so good, such a good boy f' me."

"C-close," he whines. He's already that far gone, even from this uncoordinated dry-humping half handjob, face a mess, dick literally twitching in your hand from the praise you're directing at him. You take your hand away from his cock since he asked to be denied. He makes no move to stop his motions on you, so you let him finger you open with his hand and play with you for a while longer.

When he's calmed down a bit and you do sink down onto him, your combined juices make a disgustingly lewd wet noise and you both breathe out moans. There's still a stretch; Luke is bigger than most, and you haven't had anyone since he left. You haven't had anyone else since the first time with him, at all.

“I-I was bad," Luke suddenly states as you work to take his length inside your dripping core. Any position takes work to fit his cock in your cunt, but riding him takes the most.

“Oh honey, no, you feel amazing for me,” you reassure, both remembering his insecurity earlier and thinking about how full his cock is making you feel.

“Nno I– don't mean. I mean..." he breathes and pauses, "I thought about you whi-while I was training. I wasn’t supposed to."

"What do you mean?" you ask gently.

"Not 'posed to have attachments. Feelings," Luke gasps, thrusting up once into your soaked cunt before his hips settle into a slow grind. He's toying with the edge of your shirt that you forgot to take off earlier, running his hand tentatively under the seam. He's shy, not meeting your eyes again even though he's literally inside you right now. In a way, you understand that he's confessing something very secret to you and you're reeling a bit.

'Missed you," he says earnestly for the second time this evening when you don't say anything back right away. His gaze finally lands on yours and something is electric in the air. He's practically given you his love confession several times in the last hour but this feels different.

"I don't think that's bad," you say, barely above a whisper. "Not at all. I missed you too," you kiss him again, rolling your hips.

And then, “What’d you think about?” because you can't resist.

Luke's hips go back to a stuttering pace, alternating between grinding up into you and the occasional rogue thrust, like he's holding himself back.

"Uh-uhm," he falters, fighting self-consciousness at sharing his fantasies, but the words start spilling out of his mouth anyway, "The way you smile at me when you're f-flirting. What it feels like to kiss you. A-and I thought about your hands and what they feel like on me. When you hold me, or... or when they're wrapped around- ugh m-my cock."

You gasp, but Luke continues without pause.

"How I wanna fuck you slow in bed in the morning. I'll be good. I-I can make it good f' you. Worth waking up early for," he promises. It's startlingly domestic, but before you can linger on it, he keeps going. "Missed your– haa, ah, your pretty tits, too."

"What about them?"

"How gorgeous they are. How you look when you don't wear a bra. C-can't look away."

"You wanna see?" you ask, surprised he hasn't asked you to take your shirt off earlier.

Luke whines, eyes hooded as he nods. "Please."

You practically throw your shirt off and unclasp your bra in record time.

You shift, pushing your chest towards him where he sits, as a desire to give him everything he's ever wanted burns inside of you. He deserves it. He's supposed to have been solely concentrated on learning to be a Jedi– and he clearly has been training– but on top of it, all he's admitting to focusing on not only just some ancient mystic wisdom but also on you, too. You think you love him.

You run your fingers across the nape of his neck and pull on his golden locks, guiding him towards your tits.

You roll your hips against him, pussy clenching around him as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, rolling the bud over his tongue and moaning with every breath.

"Fuck! D-don't move like that. I-I'll cum. M'gonna cum."

"Want you to," you say, but you stop your motions anyway.

"N-not yet," he chokes out. "You haven't– I want it to be good for you," drooling against your tits.

“Stars, you're so sweet. Look how good you’re being for me right now,” and he is being good. He’s being so good, so considerate, and your pussy involuntarily tightens around him again at the thought.

"O-oh shit, I can't take it, I c-can't fucking take it," Luke voice shakes, and in an impressive show of strength for his current state, he pulls out of you and flips your positions so you're laying on the cot and he rests on his knees between your thighs. He doesn't push back inside you; his cock rests against your clit, and he distracts you by leaning down to kiss you for a moment. It's his way of stalling; you know he needs a moment to hold back from finishing.

Even though it feels nice, the contact is not enough, not when you've had a taste of him inside your walls already, and you let yourself paw needily at him, trying to get him to slip in.

"You're as bad as I am, aren't you?" Luke huffs lightly, amused.

"Yeah," you breathe "I just want you, so bad."

“I– I thought I might've sensed that,” Luke says, almost sounding smug momentarily, happy with your response, "through the Force, but I- I wasn't sure if it was just my own desire," he drops that absolute bombshell on you before he mercifully slips back inside you and sets a rapid pace. Your hands fly above you to brace yourself against the wall of the nook.

"S-shit! Baby! Y-you can hear what I'm thinking?"

Luke groans, dropping his head and trying to formulate a coherent response. "Kind of. It's more like I feel... intentions, if you think really hard about something, I-I can sense–"

Your eyes flutter closed, and the way your cunt tightens around his dick cuts Luke off completely. You're rapidly spiraling towards your own high, his words and his cock wrecking you.

All your energy goes into projecting as much lust as you possibly can at him; you're running through every fantasy you've ever had, every dirty thought about him that's ever crossed your mind in an effort to get him to pick up on your emotions. It works, and Luke has to catch himself with his hand before he collapses on top of you.

"Haah, ahh," he whimpers, "That's- that's- y' feel like that about me?" he asks, his eyes rolling back in his head. He's positively losing control, his hips grinding into yours as he pounds into your pussy.

"Yes," you insist, "god, Luke, you fuck me so good, don't fucking stop."

Luke's cute little whines are coming more frequently, his thrusts more erratic, but he doesn't stop. You know him well enough to know he's not going to be able to hold off much longer, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his thighs nearly shaking with effort. Your own high is rapidly approaching.

"Close?" you ask.

"Y-yeah, been close," Luke answers with a bit of humor. “Please let me make you cum first. I just wanna make you cum first,” he cries out, pussydrunk and unable to think of anything other than his and your impending orgasm.

He sits upright again, pulling you in one swift motion by your hips to meet his, then rubs at your clit, circling you. The last inch of his cock slotting into you and the extra stimulation is the only thing you needed to push you over the edge, grinding down on him and yelling his name.

When you come down seconds later, you're met with Luke's gasping moans and begging. He's lost any self control he was able to display before, falling apart in front of you and inside you.

"Ah-haah, fu-fuck, fuck! Gonna cum, am I allowed– can I cum inside you? Please can I cum in you?" he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers in his.

"Oh Luke, give it to me, baby, please!"

He groans, accompanied by a nearly incoherent mumbling of your name as he spills inside you, hand squeezing yours. His cock gives a jolt inside of you and the feeling of being filled by his spend makes you topple over the edge again, overstimulated. There's so much of his cum that you feel it drip down your thigh before he even pulls out and you wonder when the last time he let himself cum was at all. He curses and cries out under his breath when you tighten around him a second time, aftershocks still traveling through his body as he collapses next to you in the tiny alcove of the wall.

"Love you," he confesses in a hushed tone as he settles there against you, his face tucked shyly into your shoulder.

"Love you back. You have me," you answer with a quiet confidence. When he looks at you, you see the tiniest pinpricks of tears in his eyes.

"Hey," you run a hand along his back, "it'll be okay."

"Yeah," Luke nods against you. It will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I don't know how clear I've made it but when I was writing this I was imagining reader and Luke having a sort of on-again-off-again thing (due to the whole Jedi training and extended amounts of time apart) in the past, and that she'd mayyyybe also "comforted" him after Hoth, mayhaps one day I write a prequel to this fic? idk yall know me and following through so no promises lol

#luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #becca's bs #not proofread #poorly researched and probably poorly written LMFAO #enjoy. this took me so long for no reason #if there’s inconsistency in so sorry

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stop-talking · 9 days

Note

How do you think jhutch characters would handle a baby?

I'm not quite sure if you're asking "what would they do if you handed them a baby" or "what would they do if you told them you're pregnant" but I'm gonna assume you meant the latter. (feel free to send another request if I got it wrong)

Ranking Jhutch characters from worst to best fathers:

Billy

☆ Would play dumb when you hand him the pregnancy test.

☆ "What's this? Oh, you're pregnant? Can't be mine. My pull-out game is too strong." (literally has NO pull-out game, refuses to use condoms because he "can't feel" with them on)

☆ Basically ghosts you until the paternity test proves it's his. Then he actually ghosts you.

☆ Drops off the face of the fucking Earth for years. Doesn't pay a dime in child support.

☆ Maybe he comes back like 3 years later drunk and demanding to see "his" kid idk. Literally the worst.

Derek

☆ Honestly I headcannon he had a vasectomy at like 24-25.

☆ His mom hit him up once she heard about his prostitute scandals and chewed him out. Gave him "the talk" even though he's a grown ass man... finally got him to get snipped when she brought up the possibility of paying income-based child support for 18 years.

☆ Assuming he doesn't have one, though...

☆ He'd initially be mad and blame you. "I thought you were on the pill!!"

☆ Then he'd be like "Is it too late to... you know... get rid of it?" (and kind of dance around the subject because he's too much of a wimp to just say the word abortion)

☆ Wallace and his mom would both force him to get his shit together and apologize. Eventually he'd come to terms with the fact he's gonna be a dad.

☆ He'd be the kind of bastard to throw an over-the-top gender reveal party. The kind that burns down half of California or pollutes a major water channel.

☆ I think he'd be a really good girl dad. He'd let her paint his nails and stuff. Spoil her. <3

☆ He would treat a son completely differently. Teach him to "be a man" or whatever when he's still learning to walk. Force him into random ass sports.

☆ He'd have them mostly taken care of by a nanny. That's probably how he was raised, anyways. Derek Danforth is NOT changing a diaper.

Futturman

☆ Whether we're talking pre-show or post-show, he'd freak the fuck out if you handed him a positive pregnancy test. I'm talking full-on pass out.

☆ Pre-show Josh would be like "Babe we can NOT afford a baby I literally live at home with my parents and work as a janitor."

☆ His parents would be so crazy supportive though. They've been hinting that they want grandkids for YEARS.

☆ They literally clear out a room IMMIDEATELY after hearing the news and offer it to you to use as a nursery.

☆ His mom buys you more baby clothes than you could possibly need. His dad builds a crib from scratch.

☆ Overall Josh is stressed asf but he does his best to be there for you, and his parents are OVERWHELMIGLY supportive.

☆ Post-show Josh, on the other hand, doesn't have that support. But he's survived unspeakable horrors across multiple dimensions, how hard could a baby be?

☆ Extremely hard, apparently. One day he just loses it and makes a huge decision without asking you.

☆ "Josh WTF happened to our savings??"

☆ "TRUST ME BABE we need to invest in Apple!!"

☆ You're pissed but it pays off in a few years and you're both able to live comfortably.

☆ Then in 2015-ish he did the same thing again, pouring all your savings into bitcoin. This time you SWEAR you're going to leave him, but it all pays out in the end. He gets your kid through college with that money.

☆ Overall he's a really good father, too. He had great parents, and even if he's not experienced with kids, he's naturally a very caring and attentive person.

Mike

☆ Cries when he sees the pregnancy test. He's not even sure if it's happy or sad tears.

☆ Gets sick to his stomach overthinking about how he's going to be a terrible father. His dad walked out on him, so he has literally no idea how to act.

☆ Abby, on the other hand, is absolutely delighted. She's always wanted a "little sister". Mike has to remind her that technically it's her niece. Or nephew. There's no guarantee on the gender yet.

☆ Eventually he comes to terms with it all. He's taken care of Abby for ten years, he isn't completely clueless.

☆ Takes you to all of your Dr.'s appointments, checkups, etc. Holds your hand. Makes all of your weird pregnancy cravings and doesn't judge.

☆ After the birth, he lets you rest. Nearly works himself to death trying to take care of the baby all on his own because he wants you to recover.

☆ I'm talking getting up bleary-eyed at 2am every night to microwave some formula and feed the baby. After working a 10 hour shift.

☆ Pulls the "I have a baby on the way" card at work in an attempt to get a raise. It works, thankfully. (In the novel version of the movie; it says he gets a job as a contractor at the end. So hopefully he can afford a kid...)

----------♡----------

[Remember: these are just MY headcannons. If you think differently that's fine. I didn't include Clapton because he's literally in highschool... and we all know Peeta is an amazing father.]

#josh hutcherson #derek danforth #mike schmidt #the beekeeper #fnaf movie #josh futturman #josh futterman #future man #future man 2017 #billy burn #burn movie 2019

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mewtwo24 · 9 months

Text

Sasaki and Hirano, Compare/Contrast Brainrot

Okay like I saw a post about Sasaki and Hirano’s friendship and I just. Started thinking about it and now I can’t stop. Especially after reading Hirano to Kagiura.

I feel like they’re messed up (repressed is probably what I actually mean) in the same way but in opposite directions and that’s why they like…get along, but in the strangest manifestation of that phrasing? They care about each other almost from a periphery, from the vantage point of someone who understands, but, since they’re also still figuring it out, they don’t know quite how to interact with or guide the other?

And it’s killing me because--idk if it was just me--I kept going feral over every single time I was reading the manga and Hirano would go “oh yeah I do [insert fuckign batshit intimacy] with my roommate, this is a normal senpai/kouhai thing to do” and Sasaki literally always reacts with:

“.” (Huh. I don’t think that’s normal but who am I to judge these things. Let’s ask the local social barometer.)

“Hey Hanzawa, this [reiterates what Hirano said word-for-word] isn’t normal is it?” (Translation: “this would be inappropriate to do with Mya-chan even though I’m clawing at the walls just thinking about it”)

And Hanzawa, bless his heart, who is only a fraction more normal about social interaction than everyone else is just like:

“.” [W H A T]

“Sasaki, what. Of course you shouldn’t be doing that. W H Y ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS”

AND THIS HAPPENS MANY TIMES IN THE SPAN OF TWENTY CHAPTERS. I CANNOT EXPRESS ENOUGH THE HILARITY BUT ALSO CONCERN IT INSPIRES TO WATCH.

More detailed analysis under the cut, I just can’t stop laughing at the way the manga compares them:

Sasaki fascinates me because, as I take stock again, it feels like he’s got this dread when it comes to change (e.g. Ogasawara and his gf dating--thus changing his relationship with both of them, asking Miyano out--risking losing him, confessing that he’s dating a boy to his sister--risking her enduring and fervent disapproval). So much of his younger teenage angst was related to being reluctant to start or do things, and while it’s easy to assume laziness, I don’t think that’s the case? He says in the manga: “There’s nothing I can do, so how am I supposed to know what I want to do then…?” I get a sense that this trapped feeling contributes to his dissatisfaction and stasis more than a refusal to do anything at all. I don’t think he lacks capacity; he’s proven to be exceptionally clever and even studious when he feels motivated.

Considering the lack of interest his parents had in his life (let alone his hobbies/skills) and his sister’s overbearing scrutiny, I feel like it makes sense he’s struggled so much with his self-actualization. I feel like he perceives it as being caught between hot and cold extremes constantly; like no matter what he does, he’ll either receive indifference or loud chastising. So why bother at all? It would explain why he likes Miyano’s temperament so much, considering the latter quite literally is defined by his normalcy and even keel. When Sasaki wants to move forward in their relationship, Miyano seriously considers both their feelings, and thoroughly weighs the realities of what it would mean to be together before replying. While Sasaki wants to be closer to him, I think so much of his willingness to wait was the fact that Miyano wasn’t evading him. Miyano was being honest and thorough about meeting him halfway, without insulting his feelings or flat out ignoring him.

(Side note: I fully agree that Sasaki’s sister is a positive influence in his life, in that she actually gave a damn when he was downspiraling and miserable, and pointed out that all kids need limits and guidance. But she is loud and forceful about her acknowledgement, and I feel like this is very grating to Sasaki. For better or worse, it’s clear he has a hard time with such a direct and intense approach about what he should think and feel, and about what he needs. Sasaki shows indications of a kind of mindset where he thinks he needs to shoulder all the tough and heavy things alone, so it makes sense to me that he would be uncomfortable with his sister proclaiming how he is lost or bereft of attention/discipline.)

I think there’s also the fact that Miyano witnessed Sasaki at his most vulnerable--and instead of lashing out--offered him help and sympathy, real warmth and patience. Sasaki has always meant a lot to me as a character, maybe because he resonates in such a poignant way. He’s somebody who has lived under such emotional extremes, and as a result deeply values a sense of normalcy. Where one could argue Miyano is unassuming and ordinary, I think that’s part of why Sasaki likes being with him. With Miyano, he doesn't have to guess at the distance between them; Miyano is earnest and careful about those differences, and is very direct about addressing them with reciprocity.

Now then, Hirano. I know very little about Hirano’s home life other than his being an only child. But to be honest, that does tell us a bit--paired with his subtle social anxieties. I will never forget Sasaki saying to Miyano ‘that’s because Hirano plays favorites with his kouhais’ about the gap between his behavior towards his younger classmates versus everyone else. While Sasaki’s petulance is uproarious, there is something to that. (I also love how this exposes Sasaki, lowkey, because he’s basically saying that he’d only do that with his favorite people, aka Miyano. But otherwise he could never be bothered to care about a rando, and that’s hilarious.)

I think Hirano--because he doesn’t really have a sense of how he’s supposed to relate to other people--tends to follow the same strict guidelines you might see in a rule book (DISCIPLINE COMMITTEE COUGH COUGH). Supposing he was taught--or simply feels responsibility towards younger kids as a result of reflective parental neglect--it would explain why he feels this rigid need to treat kouhais like little siblings. At first glance, and honestly when you consider his general aloofness, it doesn’t make much sense that he has a mothering sensibility otherwise.

Now then, because I realized this while writing and I have to inflict this on everyone else in rapid succession, this would explain his initial staunch discomfort with Kagiura’s affection. In the context of Hirano’s lifestyle/mindset:

Hirano → relationships with people? Don’t understand that, refer to following flowchart:

→ younger = responsibility, must protecc

→ same age = keep them in line

→ older = respect (but only if I feel like it HAIR DYE NOISES INTENSIFY)

Mind you, I don’t think this is limited to his platonic/friendship relations. I think this permeates into so many other aspects of his life, since sociality is inevitably a focal point for all human life. If he feels an uncharacteristic leniency and profound affection for Kagiura, then it must be because he's a kouhai he wants to protect, nothing more. He has no other reason or definition by which to ascribe to those feelings. Hirano doubly insisting he can’t be attracted to men is because he’s been so inundated in the widespread social signals, the social rule that has been long standing--and remains a pretty powerful message even now--that it’s unlikely (and that’s a gentle term) he’s attracted to another man.

After all, He is So Good At Being A Normal Young Man. He’s in the discipline committee. He gets excellent grades. He’s a kind and helpful senpai. He keeps his classmates in line. Of Course He Likes Women, What Do You Mean Gay.

He’s basically that meme like: “'Men can be attracted to other men' actually statistical error. Average men only feel attraction for women. Sasamiya is an outlier and should not be counted."

Both Hirano and Sasaki hate change/unpredictability, but I really love how complex their differences are in regards to how they experience that and feel that. Sasaki hates change, but he’s not necessarily emotionally repressed? He’s able to express what he feels for Miyano because he feels it so strongly, and it comes naturally when he does. In fact, it’s so natural that he becomes impulsive--and that’s why he gets so anxious about moving too far or too fast by accident. He has the overthink override, where if the attraction is too strong he simply Can’t Shut Up About How Much He Loves Miyano or stop hugging/kissing him.

Hirano hates change in the sense that he’s so ensconced in this idea that This Is Normal Human Behavior, that he completely loses sight of how he actually feels about anything--because he rejects/suppresses anything he can’t coherently define in a scripted, linear way. And being asked to tread that unstable, unsteady ground is tantamount to throwing a cat in water with no warning. This is why it’s so sad but also HYSTERICALLY FUNNY to see him like “wym I have feelings for Kagiura. It's perfectly normal to start yelling with all the wounded rage of a scorned housewife over my kouhai not letting me wake him up for morning practice. That is what it means to be a senpai.” Because he has no blueprint for how he’s supposed to express a love that goes deeper than friendship (with a man no less), he defaults to these overly simplistic structures that can’t support the complexity/maturity of such adult human feeling and exchanges. They worked for him just fine before, so why won’t they work for him now?

Relegating Kagiura to the role of kouhai makes it easier for Hirano to conceptualize why he cares so much for him, but it also limits the scope of his view. He’s using it as an umbrella term in a sense: of course he doesn’t find every little thing about Kagiura infuriating/boring/troublesome. Being the older person means being responsible and chill about everything. But that’s the thing. He’s not indulging Kagiura the same way he indulges Miyano, despite him qualifying them the same way. With Miyano it’s super clear Hirano really does just see him as a baby duckling, someone to treat gently and usher around. His behavior around Kagiura is so astronomically different in comparison, it’s nearly comical to try to compare them:

It’s Kagiura’s birthday. Hirano, who probably hardly remembers people’s birthdays, deadass went around asking every person he was close to (like, 5 ppl) for advice. He agonized over it for days on end. He gets Kagiura tickets to a basketball game and an alarm clock, and spends the entire day with him. He asks Hanzawa if he can use party poppers to celebrate Kagiura on the day of, and to get around the rules when he’s told no he has everyone go hog wild with them at the Christmas party in a loophole maneuver to celebrate. Reminder to myself and everyone reading, this is BEFORE he even hears a word about Kagiura’s feelings.

THIS IS BEFORE EITHER OF THEM ARE IN ANY KIND OF INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP. HIRANO, WHO IS MR. “i only study or drag people to baby jail, what do you want,” SPENT ENTIRE DAYS PAINSTAKINGLY PLANNING ALL OF THIS. FOR KAGIURA’S BDAY. AFTER ONE OFFHAND COMMENT FROM KAGIURA OF LIKE mannnn having an xmas bday sucks ass, they just try to lump it tg with holiday presents booooo :///

That Hirano conceptualizes Kagiura as a kouhai has been established. But another angle that’s equally crucial is this equation:

Hirano → adore person? Devote Every Minute To Being Nice^TM

→ hate person? angry cat hissing sounds/smack with paper roll

→ mild dislike? Lowkey grousing/sarcasm/dismissal

→ neutral? (this is most people btw) refer to earlier chart for appropriate social etiquette

This is pretty much where Hirano gives himself away. Because even in his most inflexible rules for himself, we’ve never seen him convey so much feeling for anyone around him so helplessly. It can be argued that he might have in the past, but honestly, I doubt it. The feeling is so confusing and new to him that it leads me to believe so much of his difficulty accepting what he feels is related to its unfamiliarity. He can’t trust it as real precisely because he can’t control or neatly define it. (This made doubly disconcerting by the fact that he doesn’t have a typical social structure to work from either. If his parents, for instance, are anything like Hanzawa’s, it’s possible his conception of love between a couple is about devotion to remain together to fulfill a sense of status/purpose to create a new life. He would have zero concept of love that comes from the very depths of a person’s emotional being, a call and response that is as instinctive as it is fulfilling.)

Sasaki feels an intense desire to be close to Miyano, and thus acts accordingly because he trusts his feelings. On the other hand, he has trouble measuring the distance between himself and others. (e.g. he thinks he will lose his friends if they date, his sister acts like a parent but is also a kid and that makes it hard for him to know how to interact, he struggles to convey himself properly to Miyano when he brings up escalating to dating). Hirano, on the other hand, doesn’t realize the intensity of his affection and heartfelt proximity to Kagiura because he’s so busy tying himself up in knots over what he’s supposed to feel and think that he doesn’t trust his feelings. Rather, he is only given away by how obscenely his actions expose him. Comparatively, he has less trouble measuring the distance between himself and others when it comes to anyone but Kagiura.

(Perhaps obviously, Kagiura has Sasaki’s whole ‘if I don’t hug/kiss/bark at him I’ll die’ emotional expression and Miyano has the cautious measuring of distance between people and difficulty accepting gay like Hirano.)

God they’re both so quintessentially queer it hurts me. One can’t shut up about his love, and the other literally cannot open his mouth and express his feelings or he’ll die.

NARRATIVE FOILS EVERYONE

(Also unsure if it’s me but wow. They are so. Autism. And that also kills me akhfjldghjgdsfhkdfjhg)

#hirano to kagiura #sasaki to miyano #hirano taiga #sasaki shuumei #kagiura akira #miyano yoshikazu #hanzawa masato #if anyone manages to read through this i salute you #i just couldn't stop thinking about the two of them #mind you this is only what i noticed on a first reading of the manga #i can't guarantee i won't breach containment again upon a second reading i apologize in advance #AUGHGHGHGHGH [myriad agonized noises]#truly the sasamiya-verse exists to inflict emotional dmg on me #also all my love to everyone who's replied to my posts with such kind words/affirmations????#im not really used to fandoms that like analysis alhlgdhdkskhjasf #i found my people? it seems

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1d1195 · 8 months

Text

Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon��especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I’m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @be-with-me-so-happily @cherryshouse @foreverxholland @tenaciousperfectionunknown @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @cherrystyle @kaiohnsa

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

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wonysugar · 29 days

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i’ll wake you up | son hyeju

synopsis : she looked just like the moon.. maybe that’s why you took her gaze as an invitation to doze off.

pairing : stranger!hyeju x sleepdeprived!femreader

genre : fluffy! strangers to… NOT strangers? idk reader thinks hyeju is pretty

tags : subway, reader is TIREDDD, fluff, one shot, that’s basically it lmfao

word count : 1k (?)

12:29 am.

you thought that living so far away from your university was going to help romanticize your studies more, yknow! make you wanna glam up and actually wanna go on campus in the first place. turns out, after a couple of semesters, you were more than wrong,

and you realized that just now, especially since it’s, again, 12:29 am and you’re trying to get back home using public transport whilst also running on barely 2 hours of sleep!

being in this type of situation made you rethink your whole original thought process; romanticizing my ass, you thought, i don’t even have a car, who made me think getting into a university that far away from my home was a good idea??

as you pondered, you didn’t realize how your eyes seemed to close by themselves, almost like they were being forcefully shut tight by some invisible force; despite the numerous loud noises assaulting your ears, the ones that would prevent you from falling asleep in an average context, you were getting dangerously close to snoozing. you fought back and mentally slapped yourself to stay conscious, of course, not wanting to doze off in the middle of some practically empty subway, (especially not this late into the night). the thought of finally getting some rest, however, no mind the place, was very tempting.

god, what you would’ve done to be in your bed at that moment.

as time passed, you were getting more and more absorbed by your own progressively ambiguous thoughts and felt your eyes get heavier, eventually falling deeper into a state of deep and extreme fatigue.

it wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes for a few minutes, right? you thought.

giving into the desire, you finally allowed your eyes to take a break and closed them, feeling almost immediate relief when you did.

until that relief turned into annoyance.

your eyes attempted to rest for what felt like only a small minute, the only thing preventing you from fully falling into a deep state of slumber being the movement of the transport and the stress of potentially missing your stop.

this was useless, only thing you could do was push through the whole ride and crash into your bed as soon as you get home.

when your eyes eventually fluttered back open, you raised your head back up and blinked away the sleepiness, allowing yourself to get used to reality, the setting and environment of the subway becoming familiar to you again. because, despite that break being short, it was enough for you to feel like you were dreaming.

you cluelessly looked around, from the left to your right; the latter being the direction that your head was strangely leaning into. you were immediately greeted by an unexpected sight.

a woman that looked about your age, but something about her somehow radiated maturity. her visage was coated with nothing but gentleness, yet her gaze was so strangely stern and tense, offering a balanced contrast to her face; she looked intimidating, yet had more than a welcoming aura. the girl’s facial structure was beautiful, too, but you mostly noticed how her long, wavy and healthy-looking black hair gracefully fell onto the slightly chubby sides of her face before you observed all of her other features with close attention.

her mouth had somewhat of a downward triangular shape, it almost looked like a natural pout; you still could barely register anything in front of you at that moment, but you knew it was captivating.

man, you thought, she’s really pretty.

then, you realized that the reason why she was staring at you in that worried, puzzled manner.

you fell asleep on her shoulder.

“a-are you okay—“

before she could finish her sentence, that realization made you quickly snap back into reality and freak, very clearly embarrassed out of your damn mind, “shit, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to doze off like that, dear god i’m sorry—“

“i-it’s fine. i promise, it’s okay.” she waved her hands around wearing a subtle and compassionate smile, nervously trying to make you understand that what you did was completely harmless.

you? you rubbed your eyes, groaning. you were still mentally slapping yourself for doing something that embarrassing; you rested your head and slept on a stranger’s shoulder. a stranger. it may not seem like that big of a deal, but to someone as socially awkward and anxious as yourself? this was suicide.

giggling to herself at your visible and quite frankly unnecessary distress, she slightly tugged on your shirt as a way to catch your attention. once she had it, she proceeded,

“you’re okay, it didn’t bother me at all, i swear. if anything, you probably need to get more hours of sleep if you just take naps on people’s shoulders like that.”

all you could do was look away in a guilty and embarrassed manner, she was right.

then, she spoke up again. “i’ll tell you what,” she smiled, before asking, “which one’s your stop?”

you stumbled on your words, still slightly fatigued, before answering, “uh.. l-lampfield.”

“ah,” she said softly, smiling politely, “that’s my stop too. it won’t be a while till we get there, so.. you can sleep some more.”

“but—“

“i insist. seriously don’t worry about it.”

“o-okay… alright.” you shyly nodded.

she gently wrapped her arm around you and placed her hand behind your head, carefully pushing it onto her shoulder yet again. a sense of relief and comfort invaded your entire body upon being in small contact with her hands, especially when her fingers nicely massaged your scalp.

with every word she softly spoke, she lit up the entire dark subway with light. she radiated light with her presence alone; not sunlight, though… something more discreet than sunlight, something that quietly heals you and keeps you safe from the nearby darkness, unlike the sun that exhibits it for everyone to see. something like… moonlight.

yeah, you figured it out, that’s what she looked like.

she looked like the moon.

maybe that’s why it was so effortless to just fall asleep around her.

you let yourself get comfortable as you leaned against her for support. and before you felt yourself get sleepy once again, this time from her tender touch, you heard her same familiar voice place in a few words. words that made you feel safer than any lullaby ever could, words that made you wonder if you would get the chance to ever ask her name.

“i’ll wake you up.”

#kpop gg #loona #loona hyeju #hyeju x female reader #loossemble #loossemble hyeju #hyeju x reader #son hyeju #son hyejoo #son hyeju loona #fluff #hyeju fluff #son hyeju fluff

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zeynatura · 8 months

Text

Ranting about Nucani

There is something I want to express and this fandom should know.

Nu: Carnival is a Harem game but unlike most games in the genre the relationships with MC are all canon within the same story, there are no "Routes", no "Alternate Universe/Timelines", it's all 1 Main Story where you get to gradually meet all the Characters who'll be your companions, in this game named Clan members, and all of them one way or another end up falling for Eiden (MC), which makes polyam relationship canon with Eiden as the center:

Like very few games have polyam representation, let alone a positive one, like yes the polycule it's very Eiden central but even then all the Clan Members interact with one another, as we see mainly in the time limited Events but also in the Main Story, and have friendly and amicable interactions, they rely on one another sometimes even without Eiden being involved.

But also, Aster and Morvay have a relationship established too since way before the events of the prologue of the game, Kuya and Quincy have hinted some sort of situationship (idk I don't care about Quincy and my knowledge about Kuya is limited to what happens in the story and events cause I have no limited SSRs nor have I read any of his Intimacy Rooms).

[Also if any of you knows of any other relationship that have been hinted at that i'm missing feel free to share, i specifically ask of you to refer to only canon, i know in fanon anything and everything is possible and sometimes we may be missperceiving some interactions between characters so i ask of you to take those rose tinted glasses off and see unfiltered canon, it's hard for me too ngl so dw]

All this started with some posts I saw about ppl feeling bad for Yakumo and/or Edmond to be "forced into a polyam relationship" when they are the "most romantic members" and "deserve a monogamous relationship", their words not mine, as if mono > poly , but also do you really think they're against it!?

One thing is being Clan Members against their will (which is all Huey's fault btw), having to work together to regulate the Altars' Essence (or their own) and then another one completely is involving themselves in a personal and intimate way with Eiden, which the latter they all did in their own terms and out of free will.

Also i wanna share one of the best and my fav scenes with Karu, which i know not everyone was able to experience it cause it's hidden in the Intimacy Rooms of a Limited SSR, but it expresses exactly why the polycule is consensual.

Context: Eiden has been worrying about forcing the Clan Members to be with him because he is the New Grand Sorcerer, against their will just because of Huey's magic that ties them together and the responsibility of Regulating the Altars and basically maintaining stability in the Klein Continent.

His worries began (at least that i noticed) in "Eerie Escapade" (Halloween Event), that was also the first time Garu got hurt while protecting Eiden and the first time Karu got mad at him and fronted to yell at Eiden (which is my another fav scene of Karu omg i love him so much i gotta go back and take screenshots of that but that's for another post), the second one being in "Army x Blood x Oath" (which are the screenshots i'll show u)

Because this are the Intimacy Rooms of Garu/Karu's Limited SSR this scene focuses on Eiden feeling guilty because Garu got hurt in the past (Halloween Event) and this time he lost his memory (temporarily, due to this event's story) and Eiden blaming himself for it all and wondering if they would be better off without him, but the same can and is applied to the rest of the Clan Members, seeing how Eiden met and approached Rei while respecting his privacy and independency even tho he's also a Clan Member and the newest introduced in the story, means that the Limited Events are also canon and part of the story because Eiden seems to be growing and learning from previous Events and showing that development in future Events and the Main Story.

Karu also mentions that Garu (prior to losing his memories) was also worrying about the same thing Eiden was, like 'what if Master (Eiden) stays with us just because of the contract with Huey? :c' and he calls them both idiots because they don't communicate and fronts to fix it! (Mighty Karu to the rescue)

And talking about "Eerie Escapade" that is also the event where Yakumo's possessiveness towards Eiden shows, i'll admit i haven't seen the last room but i feel like those people i mentioned before are using it as fuel to their idea, because if Yakumo is jealous of other Clan Members interacting with Eiden and "Wants him all to himself" that must mean he wants a monogamous relationship, right?

WRONG!

That just means Yakumo is a complex person that feels different emotions specially when it comes to the most important person in his life (Eiden) other than his grandparents!

And Yakumo feels guilty for having those feelings, not because of them being in a polycule and he not wanting to be in it, but because he has trauma and sees his desires and wants as selfishness and he would never allow himself to be selfish cause he doesn't want to hurt people, he's a people's pleaser! He lives with constant fear of hurting others like the Great Serpent did when it killed many (but apparently there may be more that meets the eye, because the current event hinted that the Great Serpent actually liked humans and took care of children ???)

And Yakumo dealing with those feelings along with his yokai powers as a descendant of The Great Serpent have been the main topic of his last 3 Limited SSRs, which is great because that means CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT~

Now unfortunately i cannot talk about Edmond's Intimacy Rooms as i'm missing ALL OF HIS SSRs (why do you hate me Edmond if ily) but from what i've seen he's also pretty happy being with Eiden, heck even HIS MOM is happy his son is with Eiden!

That's right, she's the first and only parent of the Clan Members that knows and approves of their relationship, if it weren't because most of them are orphan we could get many more... i wonder if Yakumo's grandparents are aware hmmm ... and we all know Olivine's parents are gonna HATE it xD and maybe Garu's wolf pack will approve of Eiden by the end of this event.

#i just realized i may not be the right person to talk about polyam relationships and representation #even if i'm open to polyamory while in a monogamous relationship currently #and i do my best to do my research about it and learn from polyam people #but then again i used to do the same with queer people before finding out i was queer #and neurodiverse people before realizing i am one too #and the most recent was autism :D #so maybe i'm not the wrong person to talk about it #also if any of you treat Garu and Karu as the same person when they're a system i will lose it #or worse when people don't acknowledge Karu #help me i love these pups with my life and i will protect them #aster and morvay relationship's nature is not for us to decide #but the fact is that they have one #nu carnival #nucani #canon polyamory #if you read all this i love you~#edit: i thought Morvay having multiple sex partner was obvious 🤔#but some ppl pointed it out so #yeah #the incubus has sex with many ppl besides Eiden and Aster all consensual #while Aster finds it annoying but also helpful Eiden think it's hot #big edit: nvm I AM THE RIGHT PERSON to talk about this as im ambiamorous #which means im happy both in a monoam and polyam relationships #so i am in the polyam spectrum and would love to have what these boys have

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ganondoodle · 5 months

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Dude I love how you make gods feel like *gods*. One thing I think a lot of people have trouble with is making their deities feel like either A. Non-characters that are just forces of nature, like a hurricane, or B. making them *too* much like regular characters, negating the impression of how powerful they're supposed to be.

In every part of that first Demise vs Hylia fight, it felt like something that would be both awe-inspiring and terrifying to witness, and when you mentioned in that other post how Demise would use his true form to escape a mountain, it gave me mental images of a massive volcano, but simultaneously all the *rage* that would be involved. Like I don't know the context but. Oh boy is Demise probably not going to be happy about getting stuck in a mountain

I just!! It is very early rn and Idk if I'm making a lot of sense but you are *so good at this*

I'll be honest, at first i wondered if this ask was actually meant for me or perhaps got to the wrong person ( i got teary eyed reading this ... multiple times qoq)

ANd yes i agree that often gods tend to be either too distant or too much like a normal character, personally im not a fan of the latter xD

the deities in destiny are supposed to be like a middle ground, the three golden gods are very 'other' while the deities are supposed to be a mix of mortals and gods, not half-gods since they more god than mortal but still with a connection to the world (thats almost the entire reason the gods made them like that, bc the gods themselves cannot walk the worlds they created on their own; the deities are essentially their hand to control the world - which isnt working to well as we see gnvfjdknkdfn)

anyway, waht i mean is ... Thank you??!! i, sometimes get so lost in self doubt and how others do similar concepts just wayyy better and like .. idk how to express how this lil ask makes me feel (positively!!!), i always hope i can convey at least a fraction of what i feel writing my stories, which is hard with no movement and no sound, just art, to hear that i am actually somewhat succeeding at it is kinda .. idk, baffling?? i am no good with words myself ;O;

the scene you mentioned is from chapter 3, and i got so motivated by this ask that i had to .. attempt to draw a lil concept of that scene in it, even tho i know its really rough and i hope will get it done better once i get to that chapter .. but its something? ;u;

#ganondoodles answers #zelda #art #its super late and i still gotta do sth for work #but i #had to try and get this doodle out #althought it fails to convey the sheer scale of it i think #i tried #its ok for a 1am attempt drawn in an hour i think #i was told im good at a thing i worry about not being good enough!!!

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danafeelingsick · 8 months

Text

UH OH, SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME

[Takes place after episode 3, in which Clark Kent is sick with an actual stomach bug this time and Lois takes care of him.] AO3 | masterlist

Stay tuned for the art I made for this fic!

CONTENT WARNING: graphic descriptions of vomit, nausea, fever, stomach ache, sick at work shenanigans, belly rubs, back rubs, some emphasis on comfort, caretaker Lois for the most part, somewhat horny descriptions? (nothing out of the ordinary), established relationship (to-be?)

WORD COUNT: 7,7k~

A/N: so, you know how in episode 2, Clark uses tummy ache as an excuse and hurries off? and like a few scenes later Lois muses about taking care of him? I took that personally, this might be my longest one shot yet.

omg i love them sm. great series, recommend. 8/10, because it's too short and a bit rushed. this could contain spoilers? idk, superman media is super old already.

Clark Kent was already half awake when his alarm went off, but couldn't bring himself to roll over and turn it off, or rather, smash it to pieces. His body felt so unusually heavy he was considering drifting back to sleep for just a few more minutes, to try and compensate for the restless night he had.

It had been too much optimism to think he would be able to sleep on a full stomach, especially when he was sure he was coming down with something nasty. The worry alone had been enough to turn his stomach, worry that he mistook it for hunger, which turned out to be nausea. Now all of those late night snacks seemed like an even worst idea.

His thoughts of regret and self-reflection were interrupted by his roommate coming down the bunk ladder, the clunky footsteps on the metal were even louder than the alarm, making his head pound. Clark buried his head under the pillows until it was manually turned off, and he swore he had heard it sigh in relief. One less broken alarm clock for the count.

“We're gonna be late for work if you don't get up", Jimmy shouted from the other side of the room, rustling through his drawers.

“Need five more minutes...”, Clark grunted, relieved when all he heard was a chuckle and his roommate stepping away, instead of blankets being snatched from him.

Despite gaining those extra minutes, he sat up after two, suddenly bothered by the feeling of humid covers, even the shirt he had slept in was drenched in sweat. It was a choice between enduring the heat or a headache from the bright artificial light. He chose the latter and dragged himself out of bed.

By the end of his extra time, he was already in the shower, sweaty clothes hanging from the laundry basket, with hot water falling on his back, his head swimming with the steam.

Clark caught his mind wandering to the Daily Planet and the day full of errands that waited for him, and... Lois. The two hadn't known each other for long, but Clark already knew that he had to be careful around her. Careful wasn't the right word. Every day she was coming closer to pinning down Superman's identity, and he was growing out of ways to hide it.

The kryptonian bit down on his lip when a wave of dizziness crashed over him, holding onto the wall with half a mind to not use his force on it. A soft groan escaped his lips as his hand wandered to his belly. Whatever he had eaten last night was not sitting well, it felt like his stomach was doing somersaults.

On top of that, there was a tight full feeling resting on the upper part of his abdomen, it looked round and firmer to the touch as well, like whatever was there refused to digest. Embarrassed by the thought of it being noticeable under his sweater, he rested his hands over it until the feeling was mostly gone. It was enough for him to step out of the shower and dry himself off.

It came back moments later, while he brushed his teeth. With a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still wet, he suddenly felt shivers crawling up his back, and choked around his toothbrush. His mouth flooded with odd-tasting saliva, overpowering the minty taste.

It felt like he was going to vomit, even though that notion was foreign since he had only gotten sick a handful of times as a kid, rarely as an adult. He spat the frothy toothpaste and stared inside the sink, realizing he could hear the churning in his stomach. He hadn't felt anything like this in a while, he could consider himself lucky.

With shaky hands, he turned on the faucet and rinsed his mouth out, trying hard not to gag.

That was bad, he couldn't vomit now… Clark focused on his breathing and on his hands holding onto the sides of the sink, his vision was starting to narrow, out of anxiety, or he was even sicker than he thought. He didn't think he could make it to the toilet, sprinting would only make things worse. If he ran into the wall, he would go right through, and that was a whole other issue.

Shaking, he glanced up, catching his own piercing blue eyes in the bathroom mirror, looking glossed over and unfocused, his expression pained and miserable. He looked pale, he looked nearly green.

His lips puckered as he fought against the urge to gag and lost, his tongue rolled out with a thread of saliva joining the sink. He really didn't want to puke, he was running late already, but that did little to stop his stomach from trying to turn itself out. He swallowed hard, a soft hiss escaping through gritted teeth, and wrapped one arm around his middle, trying to keep his footing. If he found out whatever had gotten him sick, he would never eat there again.

“EuUrRgh!”

Clark hunched over and dry heaved, feeling his stomach roll under his hand. His lips pursed as he felt something burn in the back of his throat, flooding his mouth. He closed his eyes and coughed a thin stream of lumpy vomit, something sickly sweet acidic mixed with minty toothpaste in his tongue, forming a disgusting taste

Before he even had the chance to spit he was retching again, bringing more of what he had eaten the night before in a watery and clumpy surge. He tasted the stale donut leftovers in it, and gagged, trying not to think about it. It was gone with the running water, he didn't need to see it.

He turned off the faucet after washing his mouth but didn't move away from the sink. His head was pounding even worse now, but at least his stomach didn't feel as full, now it was tender and sensitive like an open wound. Not much of an improvement...

“Clark, your phone is ringing and it's Lois~”, just as he was starting to relax, Jimmy knocked repeatedly on the other side of the door. ”I gave her your number, you don't mind right? Of course you don't mind.”

To say the startled Superman jumped was an understatement, he flew, taking a chunk of the sink with him.

"I-I-I'll be just a minute", he sputtered, scrambling to piece it together.

His roommate was waiting for him as he came out of the bathroom, half-dressed, looking even worse than before. He must've noticed it right away, his blue eyes now looked a bit red at the bottom, like he was holding back tears.

"So, are you going to tell me what's up or I'll have to guess?", Jimmy interrogated him with crossed arms, his phone dangling from his hand. "We're late, y'know?"

A second of silence hung between the two before Clark sniffled. “I… think I'm sick.”

Jimmy couldn't think of another time where he looked as much like an abandoned puppy. Now he regretted the accusatory tone.

"Another one of your migraines?”, he asked, relaxing his posture as he handed his phone back. Clark had frequent ones, and Jimmy never acknowledged it, but it sometimes made his blue eyes look like, well, he wasn’t sure either. That didn’t seem like one of those, however.

“Don't know...”, Clark mumbled, and his eyebrows furrowed with pain as he stepped away. “Think I ate something bad.”

Jimmy nodded, he had seen him raid their fridge last night but nothing there seemed bad so Donuts and sandwiches were the first thing that came to mind. He knew Clark had a big appetite and he was always snacking whenever he could, the possibilities were endless. That scene was quite familiar, seeing him trying to soothe a bellyache, rubbing circles over it with his eyes closed, and lips pouting. Only this time he did look like he was about to fall over.

“I think you should stay home today—”

“No, not going to leave you two to do all the work. It's not fair”, Clark interrupted, briefly scrolling through his phone, with a strained expression.

“We'll manage without you. Besides”, Jimmy crossed his arms, his tone had something of suspicion in it. “You really don't look well.”

“I can't...”, Clark interrupted, showing the screen.

Lois had left a couple of texts, clearly written in a rush, but summarized meant: “Come ASAP, thought of a new plan. We're going to get that interview!”

“Alright, since you're not going to listen. You hurry, and I'll hurry. Five minutes”, Jimmy sighed, already on his way to the bathroom. “Oh, and you're eating something on the way because our fridge is empty!”, he added, trying to ignore the welded gash in the middle of their sink.

Clark grumbled but focused on tying his shoes instead of arguing.

True to his word, Jimmy stepped out of the shower in five minutes, and another five later, they were leaving the apartment. Clark was already looking a little better now that he was outside, with sunlight and fresh air, though it didn't take long for him to get too hot inside that thick pullover he always wore. He cuffed his sleeves, still managing to do it neatly while Jimmy dragged him to the nearest sandwich shop.

“I don't think eating and —uRp, walking is a good combination”, Clark commented, muffling a meaty burp into his fist. His face grew a bit red, but at this point, he couldn't tell if it had been out of embarrassment.

“It's actually good for digestion. Look it up”, Jimmy argued, crumbs of bread and lettuce falling off his mouth.

Clark wasn't convinced that would make any difference, his optimism was failing him today, but there wasn't much room for it when his stomach felt like it was waging war on that cheesy steak sandwich. Why did he have to pick the greasiest option out of a health and diet menu? Each bite was weighing on his belly like a rock.

He covered another queasy burp that brought the taste of acid to the back of his tongue, the sandwich was sitting atop that stubborn mess of food, refusing to digest. He risked another bite, he needed food in him after throwing up earlier, but had to hold back a gag as he tried to swallow. Nope, he was done.

“Do you, uh, want to eat my half?”, he offered, awkwardly pulling his jumper down, feeling like his waistline had grown several inches.

“Yeah, you're definitely sick. You usually eat mine”, Jimmy shoved the last bite into his mouth. I’m full too. Just wrap it, and you can eat it later.”

Clark produced a disgruntled noise but complied, and stuffed the half-eaten, now lukewarm sandwich back in its paper bag. He suspected that he would indeed be tasting it again later, but the thought still made him shudder. By the time they reached the Daily Planet, the young journalist had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be feeling queasy for the rest of the day.

Inside the break room, he went to store his leftover breakfast in the fridge, finding another sandwich already there with a note stuck to it. A fishy stench leaked through the homemade wrapping, permeating the air. Then it clicked:

“To the prick who stole my Sandwich. This sandwich is for Steve. Not for Clark. Don't steal it, Clark. – Steve”

Labeled a thief after he had eaten his by mistake, and left his weird combination of mayo, tuna, and avocado for him, sounded like something only a jerk like Steve would do. Clark rolled his eyes, made sense why he was feeling like shit now. He had thought his usual sandwich had gone and in the end, he could barely stomach it. The mix of textures was so odd, and the taste was just wrong, but he wasn't about to throw food away.

He gagged at the memory, then again at the smell, and hurriedly shut the door. Fuck, not again. He jogged over to the trash can, not trusting himself to use super speed, and hunched over it, trying to breathe. The whole room smelled now.

It took a minute of breath control, swallowing and spitting the excess saliva, but he thankfully managed to keep his breakfast, even though now his stomach was sensitive all over. He pulled on his sweater, trying to make room for it.

Scowling, Clark filled a plastic cup with water, drinking it whole in tiny sips. The cold liquid was refreshing on his throat, which still felt a bit tender from the earlier spell. It took his mind off the swirling nausea for a moment. He stepped out of the break room with another cup, entertaining the thought of pinning charges of biological terrorism on Steve.

“Found you, Superman!”, a familiar voice shouted from down the hallway. Clark felt his soul leave his body.

He spotted Lois, he had spotted her giant green jacket first, but regardless, both were now marching in his direction.

“I-I-I think you have the wrong guy”, Clark stammered, nearly dropping his cup.

Lois stopped in front of him, both hands on her hips, now grinning. “And that's what I'm going to say when my plan works.”

“A-Ah! Haha”, Clark fake-chuckled, then swallowed hard, it felt like his stomach was running laps now.

“Wow, you went pale. Hope you're not hiding anything from me”, she half-joked, giving a playful look. ”So, what took you so long, Smallville? Didn't see you out jogging this morning.”

“I, uh... overslept”, ‘Smallville’ muttered, cocking his head in slight embarrassment. It wasn't a lie, for the most part, but he didn't feel like Lois needed to know the extent of his bad morning.

“Yeah, I can see that”, she commented, pinning him down with her gaze. “You do look a bit tired.”

“I, uh....couldn't sleep well”, he admitted, resting his hand on the back of his neck. He suddenly felt hot and dumb, as if he had been cooking under the sun for too long.

“Aw, is the stress already getting to you?”, she asked with a wince of sympathy, reaching one hand out to cup his cheek, but stopped midway, thinking twice about it.

“I guess you could say that...”, Clark muttered with a small sigh, eyeing her with a bit of hope, he somehow wanted her to…? He wasn't sure. “So, uh, what's your plan? I thought you already had gotten your interview with Superman”, he tried to change the subject.

“Oh that, I can't publish that! He lied to all of my questions”, the aspiring journalist said, waving a hand as she dug through her pockets, bringing out her voice recorder. “But I already revised them, there's no way avoiding these. And I already know how we're going to get another interview with him.”

Clark felt a lump of cold anxiety drop in his stomach, and it must've shown on his face because Lois eyed him with curiosity.

“What if he was being honest? He didn't seem like the type of guy to... lie”, he said, taking a sip of water to hide the shudder in his voice.

“I thought that too, I mean, he looked so—!”, she paused, flushing. “Uh, nice. Anyway, and when have you even met him?”, she raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond she was already grabbing his hand. “It's easier if I just show you the murder board. I spent all morning laying it out. Come on.”

Clark let out a yelp but didn't put up a fight as the shorter woman dragged him through the corridor. He couldn't tell if it had been her hand on his, or the way his body was already feeling awful, but his head suddenly felt hotter, his legs weaker. He didn't have it in him to resist.

Inside their provisory office, among cabin files and dust bunnies, Lois sat Clark down in one of the chairs, and he was grateful for that, right as he thought he was going to keel over. Jimmy was already there, trying to make sense of whatever Lois had pinned to the murder board.

“There, don't sleep, okay?”, she commented, and Clark was once again grateful for Lois' tunnel vision when it came to a story. She patted his back briefly before walking up to the board, bumping playfully into Jimmy on her way.

The wheels squeaked as she pulled it to the front, slamming her hand on it, and dropping some of the thumbtacks in the process. “So, here is the plan.”

Clark tried but couldn't pay attention to what his senior was saying, his gaze wandered across the board before it settled on the table, the only thing that didn't seem to be warping and tilting before his eyes. His head was starting to ache again, making it difficult to focus on anything. He blinked a few times, and brought an empty cup to his lips, feeling its contents sloshing in the back of his throat.

Jimmy took up the talking before Lois had the chance to ask anything else, he couldn't tell if it had been on purpose, but he was thankful either way. Clark slipped a hand under the table, then under his pullover and shirt, gently rubbing his queasy tummy. He could feel the organ churning under the taut skin, the food sitting there like a rock. He regretted every second that led to it.

The queasy-looking journalist silenced a sickly burp into his hand, swallowing back the trickle of viscous sizzling bile that threatened to come up. It tasted cheesy, greasy, and highly acidic, he couldn't think of a worse combination, but soon found one when he realized he could taste something spoiled as well. He had to suppress a fit of gagging, disguising it with a hand on his mouth when he caught Lois glancing in his direction.

“Come on, we're not risking our lives just to get another interview with Superman, that's not happening —”, Jimmy tried to argue, but he only caught part of the discussion.

Clark winced as a hot flash of nausea crashed into him, hitting him like a truck, though he had experienced that before, he didn't have a better description. His abdomen clenched, producing a string of bubbly complaints. He leaned forward, hugging his midsection tightly, feeling it gurgle unhappily under his thick sweater.

A soft moan tumbled out of his lips when his abdomen tightened involuntarily, that same awful anticipation taking hold of him.

“Um, are you okay there, big guy?”, Lois' voice broke through the stupor. “You've been silent.”

“S-Sorry”, the shaky young man whimpered, with his chin to his chest, curled even further into himself. “I-I really don't feel good right now...”

Lois gave a hum of sympathy, putting whatever she had down before her soft steps trailed his way. Jimmy didn't sound as graceful, he ran along the table, stopping right by him.

“Hey, what's wrong? What are you feeling?” she called with a slight tremble to her voice, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

Clark winced at her touch but didn't try to pull away, looking up was a bad idea. It felt like the whole room was spinning, only making him feel dizzier.

“My stomach hurts…”, he whimpered, his voice barely audible.

“So, his stomach's been bothering him since morning”, Jimmy explained.

“Oh, is that what those sounds were?”, Lois whispered, speaking off to the side, though her sick coworker still heard it, and froze under her hand, his face taking a whole another tone of red. Did she hear that?

“Yeah, he threw up too", Jimmy continued, which prompted his friend to raise his head and give him a strained look of bewilderment, his friend only shrugged.

“What!? And you still let him come into work?”, Lois' hand briefly left him as they went up, in a sign of exasperation.

“Well, he insisted!”, he tried to defend himself, and Clark felt a pang of guilt.

”R-Really, it… wasn't as bad this morning”, he tried to argue, glancing up at the short woman, who was scowling now, thankfully not at him.

“That is not—! Ugh, forget that”, Lois took another look at the puddle of sweat that used to be Clark, noticing that he was shivering noticeably now, his clothes already damp. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“I-I don't know, I think I’m— urP!” he began to answer, not really sure where he was going with it when he was cut off by a wet hiccup. The woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it as she heard a sound akin to a reverse gulp coming from Clark.

That was the only warning he needed before his hand flew up to his mouth, in an attempt to stop the watery bile from flooding past his lips. He was up on his feet in a second, and out of the office in the other.

Lois called after him a second too late. She had barely seen him run off, she had only noticed after he was already gone.

The sick Kryptonian was too concentrated in not vomiting down the front of his sweater to realize that he was walking too fast for a regular human. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, he didn't have to worry about explaining anything to anyone. His boiling stomach lurched with every step, lunging against his abdomen as it sent its contents gurgling up his throat.

He pushed past the door to the restroom, and thankfully found it empty, though he didn't reach the stall in time. Something hot and acidic surged past his throat, quickly filling his mouth with more than it could hold. His cheeks ballooned out behind his hand, his throat convulsed, forcing the sour watery vomit through cracks of his fingers and down the front of his sweater.

Groaning with disgust, he pushed himself into one of the stalls, dropping to his knees just in time for his stomach to push out the rest of it. Clark didn't think he would end up like this, on his knees retching inside a toilet bowl, because of a stupid tuna sandwich.

“BlEeuUrRrghH!”

At least he was due some mercy, all that came up was mostly water, at first, spurting out of his nose. Hot acrid water that dyed the bowl a cloudy brown. Though it didn't look like it would leave a stain, it tasted absolutely awful, like drain cleaner with an aftertaste of grease. He gagged hard on the thought of it and began to dry heave.

Scowling, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, infiltrating behind his lenses. He could feel himself shaking violently, a horrible nauseating heat latching onto his skin. He wanted nothing more than to take his sweater off, but he didn't think he could uncurl from the miserable position he was in.

A pained moan dribbled out of his lips as he gave into another fit of loud dry heaving. His abdomen spasmed under his tight damp buttoned-up shirt, the fabric clinging to it by sweat. It was like he was being suffocated by it.

Clark clung to the ceramic bowl, though his vomit-covered hand couldn't get a grip on it, and burped up a stream of viscous runny puke. He winced at the violent splash, it almost sounded like an open faucet. He gagged hard as he felt the solid parts passing through his gullet, bits of sandwich his sick stomach couldn't digest.

“Kh—”, he coughed as the vomit finally tapered off into a sirupy trickle, and spat out what still clung to his tongue. The disgusting cheesy taste of his breakfast was so evident now, with some rotten aftertaste he didn't want to dwell on.

For a moment or two, Clark hovered over the toilet, panting heavily. Drool and sick hung from his lips, thin ropes waving along with his breathing, which was the only sound apart from the muffled churning of his upset guts. His belly kept clenching unproductively, struggling to bring up what remained inside of it, only worsening the dull ache of his sore muscles. The dizzying nausea hadn't eased one bit, though he kept heaving, it would be a minute before he had the strength to let any more out.

A shaky hand came up, wiping vomit all over his sweater, then absentmindedly tugging at his neckline. Once, before a tiny button went flying. Reminded of his superhuman strength, he eased his grip on the toilet bowl and slinked back.

It could've been minutes or just a few seconds, he couldn't tell exactly, but something pulled him out of his feverish daze. A knock on his stall, a careful one made the door creak as it was pushed ajar. He froze, ready for the worst his anxious mind could come up with.

“Clark? Are you in there?” It almost didn't sound like Lois, but it was her. He didn't think he had ever heard her so livid before.

He looked over to find a pair of familiar sneakers peeking under the gap, shifting nervously. He even saw the small manicured fingers sneaking in to pull it closed, allowing him a little more privacy.

“H-Here Lois, ngh…”, he groaned, and though he still felt dizzy he put in the effort to flush out the toilet, hoping the smell hadn't already permeated the whole restroom. “I'm here.”

“Oh, good! I've been looking for you everywhere”, she exclaimed, her voice still shaky.

“Sorry for running off, I felt really sick all of sudden”, he replied, sitting back on his knees. It was a struggle to keep his voice from cracking when it felt like he had swallowed sandpaper.

“You don't have to apologize for that”, she sighed, her feet kept fidgeting. “Are you alright? Did you… um, throw up?”

“Y-Yeah”, he admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment, and grabbed a few pieces of paper to wipe his mouth with. “I think it was something I ate.”

“Jimmy told me so, said you weren't feeling well this morning”, she commented, and he heard her fidgeting with something in her pockets. “He went out to buy medicine, I only found headache pills around here.”

Any medicine would be a lifesaver right now, but Clark couldn't even stomach the thought of swallowing anything.

“Anyways, I brought you some water”, she added, followed by the sound of a bottle being agitated. “Can I come in?”

Clark gulped anxiously at the idea, he didn't want the girl he liked to see him like this, but the idea of being left alone was even scarier.

“Okay… come in.”

The door opened then shut with a small click, Lois actually bothered to close it properly, even though the stall felt small with someone of Clark's size inside, the short woman made up for it

While he took up half of the space, she barely filled a third. The squared space felt noticeably warmer too, just by being close to him she could feel the heat rolling off him.

“Hey, big guy” she greeted softly, shedding her puffy green jacket as she crouched behind him.

“Hey…”, he glanced over his shoulder, offering a tired but genuine smile under a sleeve he ran over his mouth. It tugged on her heartstrings seeing his misty eyes. “Sorry, I'm not doing so hot right now…”

“It's okay, I'm here now to take care of you”, she told him, rubbing his arm, and offering a reassuring smile of her own. “Anything you need, okay?”

He mouthed an “okay” before he had to swallow again, feeling his stomach jump, this time he could tell it was from the nerves rather than the nausea. Something about being in a tight space all alone with Lois, no matter how gross the actual situation was, made him anxious.

Those thoughts were quickly banished as she busied herself cracking the bottle open.

“Here, drink. You need to replenish your liquids”, she humored, handing him the water bottle.

Clark mustered a nervous chuckle before he took it, too eager to notice her fingers might've lingered on his for a moment too long. She did note how much they were trembling, though.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“A little better now”, he responded after a small sip, trying to return her good humor, and Lois chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. “I don't know…”, he gave a more sincere answer this time, resting a hand over his belly. “I feel… hot? and dizzy… and a little… hm, nauseous still.”

Lois hummed, looking at his oversized hand distractedly rubbing his belly, picking up on the bubbling sounds she hadn't before.

“I'm sorry you don't feel good. Food poisoning is never fun”, she cooed, in a tone that should've been mocking but quickly took a side of sympathy. He chuckled too, the bottle's rim still on his lips. “I think you might be overheating in that big sweater, though.”

“You might be right…”, he panted.

Her hand wandered to the rim of his jumper, playing with it before she offered, with a smirk: “Wanna take it off?”

He gulped, then nodded, putting the water bottle down, and raised his arms just enough for her to pull it off.

Without it, he almost looked like another person, his hair was up in spikes, his blue tie was messed up and his glasses were crooked. The white dress shirt he had underneath was nearly see-through, with a couple more buttons threatening to pop off. Lois looked away for a moment, convinced the heat was getting to her as well.

“Better?”

He hummed, while adjusting his glasses and combing his hair down, coming off a little weaker than he meant to. In reality, he was still feeling quite groggy, and his head was pounding, not to mention…

“You don't sound sincere”, she commented, her eyes now fixed to his hand, which in play was fidgeting with the buttons of his undershirt. “Does your belly hurt?”

“A little…”, he started to reply, but as if to punctuate his answer, it gave a low grumble that Lois heard and had to disguise a snort. “Hah, I guess… a lot”

“You're a bad liar, Clark”, she pointed, smirking.

He would have blushed if his face wasn't already a feverish red. Instead, he lowered his eyes and simpered.

“I think we have a hot water bottle somewhere in the break room”, Lois commented after a moment of silence, bumping him in the shoulder to lift his spirits. “It helps a lot with cramps.“

Clark made a noise at the mention of it, a mix between a grumble and a snort that drowned out as he took a swig of water. While it soothed his sore throat, it was getting hard to ignore the way it seemed to slosh inside of him, sitting heavily on top of his undigested meal.

Another noise, one of surprise, escaped him when a small hand came to rest on his cheek. Instead of flinching at the feeling of cold fingers, he nearly melted, putting his hand over hers before she could retrieve it. In turn, Lois widened her eyes at the heat rolling off his skin.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, holding her there.

“Checking if you… have a fever”, she responded, with a mix of surprise and embarrassment at his reaction. His hand completely covered hers. “Can I?”

“Ah, right… Go ahead”, he gave a sheepish look before letting go.

Now flustered, her hand glided up, resting the back of it against his forehead, his once fluffy bangs were flat and soaked in sweat. A soft hiss left her mouth, all that was left was steam to come out, his skin was nearly sizzling, and she didn't even think it was humanly possible.

“Do you think I have a fever?” Clark humored her. “That would explain a lot…”

“Definitely, I don’t even need a thermometer to know”, she half-joked, brushing off a few damp strands of hair. ”You're burning up, and covered in sweat too…”

“Feels really hot in here”, he muttered, growing a little groggy from what she was doing to his hair. “Your hand is cold, feels nice."

Lois gave a small hum, cupping his cheek again, and caressing her thumb over his cheek. He seemed to relax as she did it, closing his eyes and sighing, though his eyebrows were still furrowed, and his throat kept moving.

“I might have an ice bag for you if we go to the break room", she mentioned. “How about it? There's a nice sofa there to rest.”

Clark considered the offer for a second, or rather, the mental image of falling asleep on her lap, he would've said yes then and there. Then he felt his stomach tighten, and was reminded of the nausea swirling in the pits of his stomach.

“I don't know, Lois… I really don't think it's safe with me, guh, like this”, he replied, looking up at her with a frown.

“Aw baby, are you still feeling sick?”, her voice took a more comforting tone as she ran her fingers through his bangs. “Do you think you might throw up?”

“I– I don't know…”, he echoed, swallowing thickly, enough in his mind for him to miss the nickname. “I think…?”

Lois sighed, still holding him, she could feel him letting more and more of his weight onto her, and worried he might be getting weaker. Her eyes wandered down to his collar, where a faulty button left a peek of his chest out, and quickly went back.

“You hadn't eaten much today, have you?”, she asked.

“Just, gulp, half a sandwich since I woke up”, he responded, his expression crumpling in disgust, as if recalling his previous meal wasn't the right move.

“Do you think that might've been it?”, she asked as he pulled away from her, going back to fidgeting with his buttons.

“No…”, his lips trembled as he said, like he was trying not to gag. “I– , had something from the fridge yesterday. I— muRp, excuse me.”

He pressed a fist to his mouth, closing his eyes and swallowing convulsively as he recalled the taste of that horrible tuna sandwich.

Before Lois had the chance to ask anything else, he was crossing his arms over his middle, groaning with nausea. She scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him in a somewhat awkward but still comforting hug. He leaned on her, even if everything in him said to pull away before he vomited all over.

“Ugh… my stomach's churning again”, he moaned, curling into a tight ball. “I really don't want�� puke.”

“Well, if you need to”, she told him and heard an airy gulp in response. His face scrunched in what looked like disgust, but it could've been frustration from the way he shook his head. “Hey, I know it's bad, but it's your body's way of helping you through this.”

Clark mused about his options, his expression still pinched in pain. He could feel his stomach bubbling, the bile constantly at the back of his throat, like a boiling pot threatening to spill over. He looked up at her, at the cute frown she had on, and felt guilty worrying her like this.

“Lois, I think you shH— uRp!”, he opened his mouth and his body made the decision for him, letting a wet burp come up without warning. He cupped his mouth, wide-eyed.

Before he even could apologize, he was muffling another into his hand, trying to swallow the acidic saliva flooding over his tongue. Lois, on a calmer note, placed a hand on his back, gently guiding him to lean over the toilet.

“It's okay, just let it happen”, she told him, rubbing slow circles in an attempt to put him more at ease. It didn't seem to be working, she could feel his muscles tensing under her.

Clark was about to ask her to stand outside, he really didn't want her to see him like this, but he didn't seem to have a choice. Hell, they weren't even dating yet, and she was already seeing such a gross side of him.

Groaning, he draped his arm over the seat and hunched over, resting his head on the meat of his wrist. This way his head was mostly inside the toilet, affording him a smidge of privacy. He stared at the clear water below, taking deep careful breaths, feeling his stomach churn, his breakfast working its way up his throat.

“Ngh—”, he whimpered when his abdomen caved in, bringing a weak airy gag and a river of salty saliva to his lips.

It couldn't get worse at least, he told himself. Lois was there, rubbing his back and trying to keep him calm, seemingly unbothered by him being a contagious funk. Clark clenched his eyes shut, tears prickling his eyes, and dry heaved loudly, feeling her flinch at the harsh noise echoing inside the bowl.

“That's it, try to get it up”, Lois urged in a gentle voice, stroking his back as he retched again, louder but unproductive. “Keep going.”

He tried again, sucking in his abdomen and whimpering pitifully when it felt like a punch to the gut instead of the relief of emptying it.

“Easy…”, she instructed, her other hand wandered down, grazing his sore pained tummy over the tight shirt.

Clark shivered as he felt her touch it, letting out another needy whimper that made her pull away.

“I-It's okay, you can, gulp, touch there”, he managed to say before he was gagging again, his voice thick with nausea.

“Ah, got it”, she responded, now sounding flustered. “I’ll be gentle.”

Her hand found his stomach flat under the shirt, humid and warm, clenching in preparation for another harsh dry heave. A soft whistle escaped her lips as she realized she could feel the muscles of his toned abdomen underneath the clammy skin, even his stomach lunging as he gave another, this time wet-sounding heave.

Humming with sympathy, Lois tried to rub her open palm up and down, trailing from his belly button to just below his ribcage, gently kneading into his bruised tummy as she went. The surface felt firm, his stomach was full and bloated underneath. No wonder he was feeling so uncomfortable, there seemed to be a lot in there making him sick.

Her poor boyfriend-to-be let out a queasy moan and belched, the sound turning thick and wet as he forced it out.

“There, try to get it up”, she instructed, patting his belly and widening her eyes as she felt it gurgle underneath her fingertips. That seemed like it did the trick.

“H— urp! EUrGhH!” Clark made a miserable sound as he retched into the bowl, the violent heave turned hauntingly wet as vomit gurgled out of his mouth.

Lois winced as she heard it connect with the water inside the bowl in a sharp splash, hearing him choke up and spit out the rest of it. While that seemed to have been just the liquid he had drank, the strong acrid smell still reached her quickly, making her shift with a slight discomfort.

“There you go, let it out”, she whispered, trying to keep the disgust away from her voice.

Clark dry heaved again and his whole body seemed to follow the motion. His back arched forward, his musculature showing through the damp shirt, shoulders hitching as he strained. She felt his stomach lurch under her palm and braced as he brought up more of his stomach contents in a lengthy surge, some of it spurting out of his nose with a hiss.

He couldn't get a breath in as a second wave came up without warning, sounding thicker on his throat and heavier as it fell into the bowl, making a somewhat soft splatter. Lois didn't want to dwell on what it meant, but from how much he was straining she already had an idea. She could feel his stomach deflating under her fingertips, pumping itself empty.

“There you go, let it all out”, she encouraged him, rubbing his back, to which he responded, or at least tried to, with a weak groan.

“I'm, hrk— s-sorry…”, came the garbled apology, punctuated by harsh gagging.

“Aw, baby… It's alright, don't apologize”, she frowned, tempted to just scoop him up into a hug, but another loud dry heave made her think twice. “You're doing great.”

“No, I'm— urgh, this is so gross…”, he moaned, sounding completely clogged. “You shouldn't have to… hRk, see this, muRp!”

“Aw, Clark, it's okay, really. I don't mind being here with you. I wouldn't just leave you like this either”, she responded, sounding timid as the sentence went on. He, on the other hand, didn't have much time to dwell on it as another flash of hot nausea slammed into him.

Clark could barely keep his eyes open, but at a time like this he was almost thankful, his vision was blurry with unshed tears, which meant he couldn’t see much of the mess he was making. Retching harshly, he choked up another thick stream of his undigested sandwich and stomach juices, feeling the clumps passing through his throat.

He sucked in a greedy gasp of air, choking up another lengthy wave of vomit not a second later. There was so much that for a moment he couldn't breathe as it gushed out his nose, burning through his airways. He coughed violently as it tapered off, noticing the disgusting taste hanging from the tail end. He knew better than to think too much about it, but now he could taste a pull of spoiled fish at the end.

“EuRrGhH!”, he moaned, mustering a third consecutive wave before he was left panting so hard his lungs were whistling in his throat.

“Hey, remember to breathe”, Lois told him, but Clark seemed too caught up in his own misery to take her advice.

It felt like his stomach was trying to turn itself out. He clenched his eyes shut, tears of exertion gathering on his eyelashes, his throat still working through the last bits of vomit.

“Breathe…”, she instructed him, her hand still on his stomach, grounding him.

Clark lunged forward, nearly losing his grip as a harsh retch tore out of him, choking up a trickle of viscous bile into the toilet. He kept gagging for a solid minute, runny puke dribbling inside the toilet as his stomach continued to wrang itself empty, trying to get rid of any traces of that disgusting sandwich he had eaten yesterday.

A moment or two passed of Lois shushing him while he continued to heave weakly, the involuntary motions growing more sparse. It felt like his stomach was finally empty, even though it kept clenching, leaving his abdomen sore.

“Think you're done, big guy?”, she said, patting his back.

“Mrgh… hm-hmm”, he made a pained noise before humming, though it still took another minute before he felt confident enough to raise his head.

His face was an utter mess of orangish-brown vomit, drool and snot hanging from his nose and lips in thick slimy ropes, some of it coating his chin. He instinctively brought a cupped hand under it, trying to keep the mess from dripping on his shirt, but Lois was quicker, handing him a handful of rolled paper.

“Think you got it all out?”, she asked sheepishly, while he blew his nose.

“Think so…”, he rasped, his voice completely shot.

“Um, here, rinse your mouth out”, she instructed, bringing the water bottle to his lips and tipping it so he could take a sip. ”You don't have to swallow, just to get the taste out.”

After he swished and spat out, she flushed the toilet, glancing at the swirling vomit inside and grimacing. She could make out bits of green lettuce among the murky orange mess, and lowered the lid before she had the chance to see anything else.

Turning her gaze back to him, she found his junior intern sitting there like a lost kid, misty-eyed and sniffling, staring at the ground through half-lids. His color hadn’t improved much, in fact, he looked more green than pale now, with a feverish blush still burning on his cheeks.

“Hey?”, she called, waving her hand in front of him. He raised his head weakly, blinking. “Are you alright now? Still feeling nauseous?”

“Huh? No, I… think I'm empty now", he responded, though that didn't exactly respond to the question. His stomach was settled now, though it felt sore, like he had just done the worst workout of his life.

“That's good, I think? At least you got out whatever was making you sick”, she commented, to which he had to put a hand to his mouth, covering a gag. “You must have a pretty weak immune system, huh? I mean, you were last week too.”

“O-Oh, yeah, I was, yeah”, he feigned a chuckle, recalling the lie he had told her, when he needed to fly back home. His face quickly dropped. “Lois, I'm sorry you had to see this, I really didn't know what to—”

“Clark, it's okay, really. You don't have to apologize for being sick, or for needing help. None of it is your fault. I'm here, okay? For whatever you need”, she silenced him, cupping his cheek again. A small smile played on his lips, before he nodded, finally convinced. “Now, do you think we can go? It's not exactly hygienic to be on a restroom floor.”

“Ah! Y-Yeah, you're right“, he chuckled, putting his hands on his knees as he struggled to his feet. Lois followed, lending him a shoulder to lean on.

“Come on, big guy. If you play your cards right, I might even make you some chicken noodle soup when we get to your place”, she said playfully.

“Wait, really? That does sound good”, he replied, blue eyes sparkling with a naive and hopeful look.

“We'll see”, she smirked. “But now, what you need is to lay down and rest.”

He didn't argue, looking forward to the possibility of falling asleep on her lap, to her small fingers brushing through his hair, to her scent. At least there was some good to be taken out of this situation.

#emetophilia #tw emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #m.y a.dventures w.ith s.uperman #m/y a/dventures w/ith s/uperman #c.lark k.ent #c/lark k/ent #l.ois l.ane #l/ois l/ane #sick at work #dana//writing #dana//emeto fic #my writing #tw vomit #emeto art #fever whump #stomach ache whump #male sickie

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dipendenteconad · 3 months

Text

[[Ignore me yapping about LiuHan once again]]

Kinda NSFW-ish towards the end?? Idk, but in case you've been warned.

Intensively thinking about Bi-Han and his brothers returning to their camp at night after a mission that couldn't have gone more wrong, and Bi-Han fucking losing it. Deep down, he acknowledged that the three of them, and their Lin Kuei group overall, did everything they could and that their mission was a lost cause before it even began, but he couldn't help being disappointed, nevertheless, not only with his skills, but also with his brothers'. It infuriated him thinking that someone challenged them and survived to tell the story, and he couldn't help but wonder what their clan thought of their leader, now that they saw him lose so miserably. Like it was usual for him, he ended up taking his anger out on anything and anyone he saw: he screamed, threw insults and some fists like he was 5 years old all over again until, eventually, Kuai and Tomas joined forces and told him to kindly go fuck himself if all he had to do was argue and complain. It was useless to fight over something they didn't have control over anymore. Their first try failed, period. Now, they had to stick together and stay focused if they wanted to actually put an end to their mission and catch the guy before they were to lose his tracks.

Mission that, of course, was assigned by no one if not Liu Kang himself. Bi-Han then, as Grandmaster, had the job to visit him and tell him how things went (even if useless considering that he'll already know the outcome. Probably, he even expected them to fail).

Then, I imagine Liu finding an angry Bi-Han at his Fire Temple, so lost in his wrath that he didn't even make sense as he talked: with quick words and a croaky voice he explained to Liu why they couldn't complete the task they were entrusted with; still, all while omitting the parts where he was the one to misjudge the situation. While normally Bi-Han would bow and calmly ask for forgiveness, still staying as much professional as he could, now the cryomancer was so angry that he didn't care about ranks anymore, as he entirely ignored Liu Kang trying to participate in the conversation. He just complained and complained, like a broken record, and if Liu tried to answer, Bi-Han just talked over him to get defensive and bitter.

It was already a couple of hours that Bi-Han was at Liu's temple, and the God has never heard him talk so fucking much?? But, at the same time, Liu Kang noticed that Bi-Han was getting tired, and that the only thing keeping him on his feet was sheer frustration. So, as a last resort, he tried to get him to relax by inviting him in his room to let him rest his head on something soft, as Liu knew that was the only thing he needed to have him fall asleep on the spot. He couldn't speak with Bi-Han in the state he was at that moment: only after he'd have rested, he could have talked to him about the mission.

Except that Bi-Han didn't seem to like his idea, despite Liu Kang convincing him to catch his breath on his bed; one moment he was talking about Tomas, the other he was still insulting their target. For how much patience Liu Kang was gifted with, he, too, was starting to have enough. It wasn't like the Lin Kuei had just let World's end happen. There was no reason for Bi-Han to get that worked up. As a distraction, while Bi-Han was finally resting with his back flat against Liu's mattress, the latter sat next to him, and gently started stroking the man's black hair with his fingers, even getting some of it out of the tight bun, just see how Bi-Han would have reacted: with pleasure, he found that Bi-Han was welcoming his touch, and he didn't snatch his hand away, like he would have normally done. Deciding to test his luck furthermore, Liu Kang then slowly caressed the man's face as well, feeling that his cheeks had warmed up with the way he had been yelling moments before.

Now that he was calming down, Liu Kang finally had the opportunity to talk back: he decided it was best, for now, to just reassure him. He told Bi-Han that their target wasn't someone who needed them to take immediate action, and that the only reason he was able to run off was because the Lin Kuei wasn't familiar with his fighting methods, so they let themselves be fooled; but, now that they were more aware, the next time they'd have surely destroyed him.

Bi-Han had stopped talking for some time, as he was listening to Liu Kang's soothing voice with half-closed eyes. Even if he seemed so, Liu knew he was far from relaxed. So, at last, he bowed his head and kissed Bi-Han chastely on the lips as a sign to finish there the conversation and invite him to rest together, but as he was still bent over him, Bi-Han quickly grabbed him by the back of his neck to force him into another kiss, this time a more passionate one. Without the heart to turn him down, Liu Kang reciprocated until their short make-out session left both men breathless. Even if Bi-Han had always been rougher in bed, this time he was even more aggressive as he kissed Liu with force and hunger, biting his lips until he drew blood and forcing his tongue inside the other's mouth.

Without letting Liu the time to do anything, Bi-Han changed their positions and quickly got up to press bites all over the God's exposed neck like he didn't want to leave a single piece of skin unravished by his lips; meanwhile, his still gloved hands traveled the other's body and hastily helped him get out of his clothes. Bi-Han had gotten so impatient that he didn't even care where Liu's clothes landed once he threw them across the room.

Curious by the sudden change of atmosphere, Liu Kang let Bi-Han do everything he wanted; the bites felt good, but hurt with the same intensity. At last, he found himself yanked hard against the mattress with his chest bared and Bi-Han looking down at him like he was starving and Liu was the first piece of meat he had seen after weeks. (Well, probably they hadn't gotten intimate in some time, but he certainly didn't image Bi-Han to be that desperate).

Bi-Han insisted on assaulting Liu Kang with kisses, not even caring about the way he was already getting some sounds of approval out of the other's throat. There was no tenderness in Bi-Han's touch, clearly he was just chasing his own release, but Liu didn't seem to care: his lover was trying to relieve stress, and who was him to tell him no? Besides, he liked to see just how desperate the Grandmaster could get only for his body.

One thing led to another, and the two men both found themselves nude. Bi-Han's thrusts were brutal and graceless, and his moans were louder than usual. Liu Kang didn't even come, but he didn't bring himself to care as the only thing he was focused on was hugging the man above him and caressing him as he was being devoured alive.

Once Bi-Han was finished, he looked like a different person compared to the first time the two saw each other that night. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen and tainted with both their blood, and his back was covered in scratches. He looked at Liu Kang one last time, noticing that he had left him in an even worse condition. Before the tiredness finally took over his body, Bi-Han leaned in to press a last, soft kiss on Liu Kang's lips. It was the sweetest one he had ever received.

The morning after, Liu was the first one to wake up, with too many marks on his body, which he didn't know how to explain, and a pain that made all his muscles throb. But, despite everything, he was smiling, seeing Bi-Han sleeping next to him with the most serene expression he had seen on him after months of being together.

#i didn't mean to woobify bihan i just wanted to see him get a bit softer in the end #liuhan #bi han #mortal kombat 1 #bi han × liu kang #liu kang #bikang #originally wrote this in italian so translation may be... meh

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spoopy-fish-writes · 2 years

Note

I am begging someone, ANYONE, to write an enemies to lovers fic of chev's route but the whole reason the MC gets chosen as bell is because she tells Chev off instead of being afraid during the prologue when he points his sword at her. Something along the lines of "If you had bothered to pull your head out of your ass for more than five seconds then you would know that the books ending up on the ground WASN'T MY FAULT!!!"

| Foolish

Suitor(s): Chevalier

TW: Murder mention, kidnapping, threats, dehumanisation

Genre: Idk man but it feels like it doesn't know if it wants to be serious or if it wants to be crackish

Notes: Gender neutral MC || The quality of this just,,, progressively drops throughout this whole thing,,, but I couldn't resist writing it regardless,,,

Cowering was something that the brutal beast was used to as a reaction to his presence. Very few were brave enough to even keep looking him in the eyes, much less have a conversation with him so a pair of narrowed eyes and scowl was not something that Chevalier expected when he drew his sword on you.

"These books are worth more than your life."

You scoffed incredulously, an annoyed smile upturning your lips at his statement. You looked down at the books briefly, books that you recognised that you sold in your bookshop, and back at the blond man clad in white - who's icy glare still hadn't left you - as if he were expecting something.

You knew realistically that to further aggravate him would end badly for you but you couldn't force your pride down for something as stupid as dropped books. Specifically, his dropped books. Had it been anyone else, you already would have picked them up but the sword at you throat, no matter how much it made you want to swallow your pride and just pick the books up, made you equally unwilling to do so.

"If you're waiting for me to pick them up then we're going to be here for a while." You decided to bite back the comment about him being too incompetent to pick them up himself.

His glare sharpened and you could see the way that his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword but you only stood your ground in response, meeting his glare head on with one of your own and arms folded firmly over your shoulder.

His muscle in his jaw jumped in annoyance at your stance, teeth clenched behind lips kept with no expression. You didn't seem him enough of a threat to your insignificant little life that you would fold your arms to him and leave yourself vulnerable? You might as well turn around then as well. "You're extremely foolish to talk back to a prince who has his sword at your throat."

"And you're extremely obtuse or just plainly spatially unaware." You practically spat your words, your annoyance practically palpable in the air. You didn't hesitate with your words.

You knew who he was. And you didn't care. You had ever reason to fear him, you can recall the feeling of fear that you felt whenever you'd heard his name prior but now? All you could feel was a simmering anger and annoyance directed at someone who was entitled and rude and clearly had no value for human life. He was everything that you had every reason to fear and hate and the latter was certainly winning of the two.

"You-" You immediately cut him off, your fear of his sword and clear promise for death well outweighed by your annoyance and pride, eyes narrowing on him as you take on a tone that no one would ever dare speak to Chevalier Michel of all people with.

"If you'd bothered to pull your head out of your ass for 5 seconds, you would have realised that your books ending up on the ground wasn't my fault." You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for not raising your voice. Now, if he did kill you, he would seem like he was taking it out of proportion because you had been perfectly calm the whole time unlike a certain spoiled little prince who apparently wanted the entire world at his feet.

Chevalier thinks you lucky for his brothers stopping him from cutting you down where you stand. You think him an idiot for deciding to cause a scene in public.

...

Honestly, you'd hoped that that would be your only interaction with him. It wasn't very common for Chevalier Michel to leave the palace if it wasn't for war so it was safe to assume that it was a one time thing and you would never have to deal with him ever again.

If only you could be so lucky but clearly your luck wasn't on your side. Becoming Belle because Sariel had allegedly been impressed by your display of "idiotic bravery and honest emotion in the face of what was clearly a fatal situation" and you didn't really get much of a choice after that.

That did not, however, explain why you were now knocking on the second Prince's door to call him for breakfast. Clavis' existence did though.

"I'm coming in if you don't respond."

...Still no response after your frustrated knocking on the door for at least the past 5 minutes.

And so your hand took a hold of the door handle, pushing down to open the door and stepping in with a scowl on your face. "If you're changing it isn't my problem!"

Luckily, he wasn't changing but of course again it was just your luck that he was still asleep.

Or, at least, you assumed that the lump on his bed was him.

Was he really still asleep? He couldn't even manage to wake up early with someone waking him up and he expected to get anything done in a day? Well, all you'd ever really heard of him was various crimes against humanity and war crimes that had your heart leaping into your throat as panic welled up in your heart at the possibility that he might begin targeting people within the kingdom as well.

Why anyone considered such a cold and cruel prince to be fit for the throne was beyond you.

You walked over to his bed, attempting to drag the covers off of him and prompting a hand a hand to reach out from the blankets and grip onto your wrist.

Bleary blue eyes, still as defensive as the last time that you had seen them, glared out at you from under the pile of blankets.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Get up before I drag you out by your feet." His grip on your wrist tightens minutely and you feel that same fear again. And again, you push it down.

He doesn't say anything in response, just letting go of your wrist and waving you out while sitting up. You didn't care just how much of a confirmation it was that he would come to breakfast - not that you'd even told him, but surely a 'genius' such as himself would be able to figure it out - and walking out the door.

Most of your reactions continued in such a way all the way up until a few days prior to your deadline for choosing the next king.

He was still just as low on your list as you had always had him, still cold and uncaring, and his responses to nobles didn't help much either until a single night in which he gave the anti-war faction a choice for their loyalty.

Even then, you didn't think it was so much him as it was your own input. It was like he didn't care at all, whether being watched or not. Maybe it was just the fact that you were Belle and he needed to ensure his pace on the throne considering he was so insistent that he would get it.

However, beside that night and this moment in time, you didn't think the either of you had ever cooperated on anything. Your decision to join in a battle and help with the wounded fell apart miserably as you had expected in all honesty.

All you would hope now was that Chevalier would carry out his end of the plan in case of a mishap. He was surprisingly helpful in making the plan as well. Harsh but not with unfounded advice and criticisms of your intentions for the plan.

It was infuriatingly convenient for him to be the way that he was.

...

But the whole thing was a maybe.

You sat on the bed, certainly unusually comfortable for a prisoner, and really stopped for a moment.

You were a prisoner. They were going to attempt to make you name the Obsidianite prince the King of Rhodolite and had little to prevent it.

Even Chevalier...

You couldn't rely on the fact that he would come.

He was always cold despite your best efforts to try and start a conversation with him as per your duties as Belle and you could never rely on him to care for a human life in any situation. His sword seemed to be his answer to most situations but saving was never his priority.

It could never be the priority of the brutal beast.

"How foolish could you be to get captured despite your promise to me of all people? I don't take kindly to anyone breaking their end of an agreement with me."

But it still didn't change the way that your spirits shot sky high and your heart warmed when you saw Chevalier standing at the door of your supposed cell.

Do not repost or claim. Only reblog 💜

#ikepri #ikemen prince #chevalier michel #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri fanfic #ikemen prince fanfic #ikepri fanficiton #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri chevalier

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solomons-poison · 1 year

Note

As someone who had pet rats, I LOVE rats they are such sweet gentile creatures

Knowing barb tho he is terrified,, how do you think he would react if he found out mc had pet rats/likes rats? (I think he would use that to his advantage in some way) but also I wanna help him get over his fear of those lovely babies💗💗

(Idk if requests are open atm, if not you can ignore, but if you do end up doing this, thank you!)

Also good way to brighten up your day is to look at dumbo rats, cutest little fellas

Finding Out MC has Pet Rats

A/N: This is such a funny prompt, thank you for sending this in ahaha. I've always wanted to get rats, they are such funny curious creatures, but I come from a family that always had cats, and I ended up with cats of my own as well by a random rescue suggested by my roommate. One day though... 🐀

Featuring: GN reader || Barbatos x reader

Warnings: talking about pet rats ?? none

══════════════════

Upon finding out about Barbatos' great dislike of rats (hatred might really be the more appropriate word), it might seem tempting to keep quiet on the subject to prevent his discomfort. But Barbatos is perceptive, and it's easy for him to see that something is bothering you, especially when it happens right after a random discussion with the brothers about your life back in the Human Realm.

You know that, really, he is willing to learn everything and anything about you and respect it. He's an adult, he knows and is willing to put in the work to make your relationship as cohesive as possible. But when it comes to your lover's greatest enemy... it's easy to understand why you'd both be hesitant.

When you first break the news to Barbatos, he is shocked, to say the least. Utterly speechless. His brain and his heart had never battled so strongly before than when he heard that you loved, and even voluntarily owned, the very creatures he loathed.

You will have to be very patient with him. Logically, he knows that Human Realm rats and Devildom rats are two different beings. The latter is more akin to Human Realm cockroaches but without the wings, difficult to eradicate and hardy in most conditions. So it might be good to start with just going over the things you like about rats, whether it's general information or about your specific pets.

Really, the best thing to do will be to set up a date with him to introduce him to your rats. Let him see their set up in your home, tell him about their quirks, show silly photos. And once all conditions have been met and Barb has had a chance to steel himself, you can bring the rats to him.

It will take several tries for him to come anywhere close to accepting them tbh. As much as he loves you, and as adorable as your pets are, the hatred is deep-seated and very difficult to get over. But he is willing to try, for the sake of your love and relationship. He never wants to hurt you or look down on the things and creatures that you love. It's just a personal battle that he'll have to fight and win.

If you do manage to win over his heart, he's quick to get very attached. But only to your rats, mind you. Any others, even if it's someone else's pet rat, the awful feeling he gets around them will be back full force. In fact, he may even be protective of your pet rats against any other rats he encounters.

He's one of those reluctant adoptive father types, who takes forever to win over. But once you've got him in the palm of your hand, he gets along with your rats very very well, teaching them little tricks and giving them treats on occasion, maybe even holding them when he's feeling brave.

Introducing Barbatos to your pet rats is really the ultimate relationship challenge. If you two manage to surpass that, nearly nothing is standing in your way from a long-lasting relationship. But it's definitely a barrier that will need some careful consideration and lots of mutual respect.

#barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #the minx can write ✍️

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aamalaaa · 1 year

Text

sunrises & liquor (m) | myg

all that jazz

pairing: yoongi x reader

series: sunrises & liquor

rating: m(18+); cursing, alcohol consumption, smut, explicit content

genre: bar workers au, barman yoongi au, (kinda) forbidden relationship, angst, fluff, smut

summary: after a failed academic pursuit and a few meaningless and disappointing relationships, you decided to go back to what you never thought you would: the bar industry. There you find a family, friends, heartache, misunderstandings and one particular barman who just won’t get out of your head.

warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption (duh), smut, dom!yoongi, sub/brat!reader, dirty talk, oral sex(m.receiving), unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it folks), car sex, rough sex, angst, reader has issues bro

a/n: welcome folks, to yet another chapter of s&l! it’s been more than lovely having you around, sharing your thoughts and screaming with me. I appreciate you!! anyhow, this is the longest one yet, my bad, and we’re getting into the final arc of this story, I reckon. I hope you thoroughly enjoy this one<3

//: btw, I listened to ‘Lost’ and ‘Thinkin bout you’ by Frank Ocean, and also ‘Meet me in the Hallway’ by Harry Styles while writing this one, I recommend it.

chapter word count: 8.5k (my bad)

previous | next

Today was a long day.

It started well enough, you woke up and ate breakfast with two of your best friends, exchanged a few texts with Yoongi and tried to help Jimin with his Hoseok problem. You even managed to convince him to meet up with the latter.

Turns out it ended up unraveling in the worst possible way and you were left to pick up the pieces of your dear friend’s heart all throughout the afternoon, trying to ignore the guilt gnawing at you in favor of focusing on your friend who really needed you.

Because this isn’t about you and how you feel bad about what happened and the role you played in this whole situation. This is about Jimin and how he just got basically rejected by his longtime crush and friend.

So you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to understand what in the actual fuck happened today and how to help, what to do to make both your friends feel a little less miserable.

And Hoseok may have rejected Jimin, but you know him and you’re sure this whole thing is eating at him, will probably keep him up at night. Hoseok never wants to hurt anyone, on the contrary, he always tries to help people feel a little more hopeful, a little less out of control.

You facepalm yourself and sigh loudly. How the fuck do you always end up all up in everybody’s business, your life is enough of a mess as it is.

Your phone vibrates and you unlock it, smiling like a whole ass fool as soon as you notice Yoongi’s contact name pop up on your screen.

Love [6:37]: badly, spent the whole afternoon consoling Jiminie

Love [6:38]: I’m so tired

You drop your phone on the bed and head towards the bathroom to take a much needed shower. You stand under the stream of hot water for, well, way too long, before you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around your naked form, blow drying your hair as soon as you do.

You leisurely make your way towards your dresser and slip on a simple black t-shirt. Then, you unlock your cell phone again and try to force down the surge of energy you get when you notice two new messages from Yoongi.

Music Man [6:41]: shit. poor Chim.

Music Man [6:41]: are you ok?

You sigh contentedly as you type in a response and send it.

Love [7:29]: yeah I am, just need to unwind and go to sleep early.

You start scrolling through netflix, almost settling on a title before you feel your phone vibrate on your stomach.

Music Man [7:36]: wanna come over?

You grin and start typing.

Love [7:37]: mmmhm, idk. that’s at least a 15 minutes drive.

The reply is almost instantaneous.

Music Man [7:37]: I made budae jjigae..

Love [7:38]: say no more

Love [7:38]: leaving in 10

You start getting ready, pulling on some jeans and a coat, then you brush your teeth and grab your purse.

You look at your phone before dropping it in your bag.

Music Man [7:40]: bring overnight stuff [:

“Did you get my last text?”

You push past Yoongi and head inside the apartment.

“I did,” You reply in a monotonous tone.

He closes the front door. “Where’s your overnight stuff?”

You grin and lift your purse up,

“Here.”

“You’re sleeping in… jeans?”

You slip your coat off and hang it, wagging your eyebrows playfully. “Or maybe I’m sleeping naked?”

“Are you trying to be the end of me?” Yoongi groans.

You chuckle lightheartedly,

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a naked woman before, please.”

“Definitely not, but they weren’t you. I don’t think you realize the power you have over me, love.” He draws closer and engulfs you in a tight embrace, laying a gentle press of his lips on top of your head.

You blush profusely, thankful for the fact that your face is hidden from Yoongi’s scrutinizing gaze. This might be the most romantic and simultaneously arousing thing you’ve ever heard.

Shit.

“Then you’ll lend me sleeping clothes will you?” You nip at his exposed collarbones.

Yoongi shudders quietly. “So this was your plan the whole time? Make a man weak so you can steal his clothes and why not, his cat too maybe?”

You laugh against the crook of his neck. “Damn, you caught me.”

“That’s cold, angel.”

You lift your head up and your eyes meet an absolutely devastating pout.

“Poor baby,” You coo before cupping his soft cheeks, pressing your lips on his for a few seconds and sighing in absolute bliss, the blond man’s arms tightening around you as you get lost in each other’s taste. You break it off first, parting an inch or two from him and staying there for a short moment, the both of you breathing in each other’s air, eyes closed.

“I just think your clothes smell nice,” You whisper tenderly.

Yoongi hums. “What do they smell like?”

You dip your head down and press your forehead on his shoulder, a light pinkish tint taking over your cheeks, and mumble, “You.”

“So you think I smell nice?”

You slap his hip and groan in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do.” He chortles, a calloused hand making its way through your freshly washed hair.

You stay unmoving for a few moments, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away and then raise your head, first noticing Cat, laying on the couch and judging the both of you with it’s golden orbs, before catching the spicy scent of budae jjigae for the first time since you came in.

“You actually cooked, like for real.”

Yoongi lets go of his hold on you and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, yeah.”

You approach the stove top, taking in a deep breath through your nose.

“I thought you were finessing me so I would come over.”

“That’s rich coming from you, clothes stealer.” Yoongi says, a playful indignant tone to his voice.

“Hey! I borrow them, I don’t steal them.”

“Tell that to the hoodie I haven’t seen in the last two months.”

You cross your arms and pout, leaning on the counter. “You gave that to me, meanie.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

“That’s not fair,” You squint your eyes at him.

Yoongi chuckles and kisses your temple, taking two bowls from the cupboard and filling them with two portions of the still-warm meal before putting them down on the counter along with utensils and two water bottles.

“Eat up before it gets cold.”

You whine but still sit down at the counter, slurping and munching hungrily at the delicious comforting meal. Yoongi watches you with an amused expression, eating quietly and slowly. Once you’ve annihilated your portion you put your utensils down and quirk a brow at the blond man,

“What?” you take a sip of water.

Yoongi shrugs, a crooked smile on his lips. “Nothing, you’re just cute.”

You choke on the liquid, coughing loudly and bring a hand up to your chest, violently slapping it to help clear your obstructed airways. Yoongi laughs and runs a hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“You’re mean,” You croak out once your fit of coughs settles down.

“I’m sorry,” He massages the nape of your neck, dissipating any feeling of annoyance you might’ve had.

You pout. “Better make it up to me then.”

“Anything you want, love.”

"Anything?" You lift a brow and send him a seductive smile, slowly getting up and wrapping your arms around his neck.

Yoongi’s breath hitches in his throat as he lets out a low, rumbly, “Anything.”

You twirl a blond strand of hair between your deft fingers, a wicked grin lifting the corners of your mouth. “Then I want a massage and cuddles.”

Yoongi huffs incredulously and shakes his head, lightly swatting at your ass. “It would be my pleasure.”

He lends you a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and you quickly brush your teeth before going to the living room and petting the furry animal, cooing and squealing when it starts purring in content.You then make your way back to Yoongi's room and swiftly slide under the bed’s covers.

Yoongi enters the bathroom and comes out a few minutes later to find you almost passed out, snuggled in his sheets. He slides under the covers next to you and whispers,

“Do you want to go to sleep now, love?”

You shake your head and blink slowly, meeting deep chocolate-like eyes. Even in complete darkness Yoongi looks absolutely stunning, breathtaking, and you feel so fucking fond and grateful to be sharing a bed with him.

“Nuh-uh, you still have to give me a massage.”

“Alright, on your stomach then,” Yoongi chuckles and tucks a strand of hair beneath your ear.

You leisurely comply, and give him an expectant look.

“It would be better if I took off your shirt, but it’s all up to you.”

You nod and send him a small smile, giving him permission.

And so Yoongi sits up straight and starts tugging your shirt off, you help him by lifting your torso and arms up.

Once the garment is off, Yoongi slides his palms up your back with increasing pressure, spurring a satisfied moan out of you.

“Is that enough pressure?” He whispers in a dark, gruff tone, sending shivers up your spine

You barely manage to whisper the next words,

“It’s perfect.”

He continues his ministrations, lingering for a long moment on your shoulders and collarbones, then trailing down to the dip of your back and slowly pressing his thumbs there while you can only let out small mewls of appreciation.

You slowly slip in and out of consciousness, not even noticing that Yoongi has stopped massaging you until he whispers against your ear,

“Time to sleep, angel.”

You groan and begrudgingly sit up, tugging the white t-shirt on before slumping down on your side, facing the opposite way from Yoongi. The latter inches closer and wraps a lazy arm around your waist, pressing himself flush against your back.

“Sweet dreams,” He presses a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

You wiggle in his embrace before slurring out a small,

“Sweet dreams Yoongi.”

You tug nervously at the off-the-shoulder neckline of the emerald green, floor length dress you put on merely a few minutes ago.

It’s 7:04, which means Yoongi is late, and Yoongi is almost never late. Which might mean something happened, but it could also just be your anxiety riddled mind making up scenarios to taunt you.

Nevertheless you can’t tame down the bubbling anxiety rising in your chest.

You’re checking your phone for the upteenth when you hear a slightly reluctant knock at your front door.

You swing it open in a matter of seconds, letting out a shaky breath of relief as soon as you see Yoongi’s soft features.

Your relief is short lived though, because his appearance knocks the air straight out of you.

You grip the doorknob forcefully as you take in the fitted black suit Yoongi is sporting, the white dress shirt and black bow, but most importantly his luscious locks of hair. Because they’re not the light, bleached blond you’ve been drawn to since you’ve met him. No, oh no.

His hair is black.

Jet black, as dark as a raven’s feathers.

And if you thought blond was the best color for Yoongi before, you were not prepared for this one. Because holy shit, he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever been blessed to lay your eyes upon.

The night’s announcing itself to be a long one.

“You look amazing,” Yoongi declares as he tucks his hands in the pockets of his trousers, an awestruck look in his eyes.

“Holy shit,” Is all you manage to say, completely unaware of the compliment he just bestowed upon you.

Yoongi nervously cards a hand through his black hair. “Yeah..”

“Yoongi. Fucking hell. Don’t do that.” Your grip on the door handle strengthens and you take a deep breath, looking anywhere but in his direction.

“Do what?” He scratches his head in confusion, oblivious to your internal struggle.

“Your hair, oh my god.” You snap your gaze up, just now noticing how awkward the man looks standing in the doorway. “Umm, sorry, come in.”

You step out of the way and Yoongi slides in through the threshold, closing the door as you make your way to the closet and take out your winter coat.

“Yeah I was so done with bleaching it, so I just went back to my natural color.”

You hum understandingly and the man leans on the wall, watching you curiously as your shaky hands fumble with the buttons of your black, fake fur coat.

“Do you like it?” He questions, an amused glint to his tone.

You gulp loudly. “Y-yeah I do.”

You curse under your breath as you struggle to button your coat, your mind reeling with thousands of filthy images you try to rid yourself of. Crazy how a simple change of hair color can have such an impact on you.

But you’re only human, and Yoongi clearly is something else, no way a human being is allowed to look like this, like sin incarnated but also a god sent creature. It’s not fucking fair.

Strong, capable hands deftly take a hold of yours and snap the coat’s buttons in place.

“You like it that much?” He chuckles teasingly.

You send a glare his way, only now noticing how close he’s standing. “How fucking dare you look this good in my house, in front of my fake plants nonetheless!”

Yoongi lifts a brow in amusement before taking a hold of your waist and drawing you flush against his broad chest. “What are you gonna do about it?”

You gasp and slap his shoulder. “I can’t with you, I swear to god.”

Yoongi laughs loudly, showing off a heart shattering gummy smile that has your heartbeat picking up at an alarming rate.

“Are you actually mad?” He runs a hand up and down your back. You curse yourself for putting on your winter garment, wanting more than anything to feel his fingers on you.

“Yes, I am! How am I supposed to watch the musical when you look like this?” You pout angrily.

“So dramatic..”

And just like that he stops you from responding by locking his lips onto yours, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss before biting lightly at your bottom lip, tearing a soft whimper out of you.

He slowly backs you up against the wall, using the surprised gasp you emit to slide his tongue against your own, licking languidly and relentlessly as you try to take charge, failing time and time again.

You slide your hand all the way up to the back of his head, tugging lightly at the soft locks of hair, something you’ve been desperate to do since he appeared at your doorstep.

Yoongi emits a deep groan, shivers instantly pricking at your skin despite the warm clothing you’re wearing and you slide your other hand up to the button of his jacket, wanting nothing more than to take it off and feel his warm skin sizzling under your palms.

But he parts from your lips just as your hand reaches the obstructing button and chuckles hoarsely,

“We can’t miss this show, love. Tae would be sad and you’d feel bad.”

“Damn, I hate that you’re right.”

Yoongi rests his forehead against yours and lightly shakes his head. “Believe me, I hate that I am too.”

You stay there, catching your breaths for a few moments before you speak up again,

“Alright let’s go now, otherwise we won’t be leaving tonight.”

You see his jaw twitch as he steps away and takes your hand in his.

“I’m in pain,” He solemnly declares.

You chuckle heartily,

“So dramatic.”

You arrive at the theater a mere thirty-something minutes before the musical Taehyung stars in begins, the billboard announcing ‘Chicago’ in bright capital letters.

You notice Seokjin and Hoseok almost as soon as you make your way in after dropping off your things at coat check.

They’re leaning against a high circular table and chatting, flutes of champagne in hand.

Seokjin speaks first,

“We were starting to wonder if you guys decided to bail on us to go have sex at Yoongi’s place or something.”

You give him a mortified look while Hoseok loudly chortles, gripping his stomach as he does so.

Yoongi lets out a drawn out sigh. “I need a drink.”

Seokjin perks up. “Let me accompany you! There’s a bit of a line.”

He downs his own flute in one gulp as Yoongi sends a pained look your way but follows the older man nonetheless, leaving you and Hoseok alone.

The silence that reigns over the both of you feels awkward and strange. You don’t like it, not one bit.

“How is he?”

You snap your gaze towards the red haired man.

“Who?” You question futilely, already knowing the answer.

Hoseok sighs, a downcast look in his eyes. “Jimin..”

You pick at your nails nervously, unsure if you should be talking about it or not. You ultimately decide it couldn’t hurt to do so.

“I mean.. how do you think? You know him, he’s taking it pretty badly but he wouldn’t talk about it or what really happened. He’s resilient though, he’ll manage.”

“I know.. I’m just-“ He pauses. “I’m just kinda confused and lost right now? I didn’t expect this, at all. And I’ve wanted him to tell me that he loves me for so long, even dreamt about it. But I met Lia a few weeks ago and it’s going well you know? She’s kind and I know exactly what she thinks and where she’s at..”

You didn’t know about any of this. “Lia?”

“Yeah, I met her at a party. You’d like her a lot I think.” He shoots you a half-hearted smile, making your heart sink.

Hoseok doesn’t do half-hearted smiles.

“If you do, I’m sure I would too.”

Hoseok stares at the floor, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s deep in thoughts.

You sigh and ruffle his hair. “Whatever you do, I’ll be happy for you. As long as you know you’re making the right decision for you. Not anyone else.”

Hoseok eyes you almost pleadingly. “But no matter what I do, someone’s going to end up hurting..”

“Yup. That’s just the way things go most of the time.” You try to swallow the uptick of emotions in your throat.

“You’re such a pessimist,” The corner of his eyes crinkle in amusement.

“I have nothing to say in my defense.”

You notice Yoongi and Seokjin coming back your way, holding three flutes of champagne.

You give Hoseok a meaningful look, “Seriously though, think about it. I don’t want you to regret your decision later on, whatever that decision is.”

He nods harshly, just as the two men come up to you. Yoongi hands you a flute.

“Thanks,” You beam at him, touched that he thought to bring you one too.

He snakes an arm around your waist and takes a small sip of the bubbly drink. “Of course.”

“So, what role is Taehyung playing anyway?” Hoseok asks.

You perk up, excited about your friend’s upcoming performance. “Roxie! It’s a gender swapped reinterpretation of Chicago.”

“Damn, he basically got the lead role.” Yoongi whistles, impressed.

You preen with pride for your friend.

“He did,” Seokjin confirms in an adoring tone.

“Sweet!” Hoseok exclaims, drawing in a few pair of curious eyes.

You all drink your flutes pretty quickly and make a stop at the restroom before heading inside the theater and taking your seats.

You sit at the end of the row, Yoongi directly to your left, then followed by Hoseok and Seokjin. You apply a thin layer of lip gloss before tucking the stick back into your purse, only then noticing Yoongi eyeing you, indecipherable emotions swimming in his dark orbs.

You lean closer and lay a hand on his thigh,

“Something on my face?”

Yoongi snorts. “Anything I could answer to that would be corny as fuck.”

You feel your face heat up and look down bashfully.

“Hey,” He lifts your chin up with his index finger. “I didn’t say I was done looking.”

“Oh my god Yoongi, stop.” You squeeze his thigh in warning, very thankful for the low lighting, otherwise you’re positive he would notice the bright red tint spreading all over your face.

“Cute,” He coos softly, caressing your cheek gently before draping his arm around your shoulders, you lean onto him .

The musical soon starts, and it’s absolutely mind blowing. You don’t remember ever seeing something quite like it. Taehyung adds a lot of flair to it, and you might’ve seen him in other plays before, but this takes home the cake, in your opinion at least. Because he owns the stage, the role, the songs.

He is the role.

But as much as you try to stay focused, you can’t help but let yourself peer at Yoongi from time to time, getting caught up in the way the light illuminating the stage creates all sorts of shapes and shadows upon his hypnotizing features.

He’s fucking stunning.

You leave your hand on his thigh all throughout the show, rubbing slow circles on his knee with your dainty thumb.

And you’re acutely aware of the occasional shivers coursing through Yoongi as you sometimes let your hand wander a bit further up his thigh, notice the way his jaw ticks when you lightly squeeze the muscular limb. You also notice how your heartbeat picks up its pace the longer you keep testing the man’s patience, as if maybe your little teasing might have even more of an effect on you than on him.

When the last musical number starts, you let your hand venture even further up, your fingers now almost reaching the place you want them to reach the most.

You feel Yoongi‘s muscle strain, almost missing the low groan that reverberates through him when he forcefully grabs your wrist in warning, which automatically sends a rush of heat through your whole body.

You chance a glance at his tense features, his clenched jaw, his eyes staring intently at the stage, and almost pout when he doesn’t give you any attention, simply keeping his steady and forcefull hold on your wrist, making it impossible for you to move your hand in any way.

The play soon ends and you all get up, Yoongi lets go of your wrist to applaud and once he’s done, he gets a hold of your hand and interwines your fingers, sending you a dark menacing look as he does so.

The four of you quickly make your way to the front hall and you text your friend.

my queen [10:43]: we’re waiting for you in the front hall! you were fucking incredible tae omg

You feel Yoongi’s hold on your hand strengthen as you wait for a reply.

Taebear [10:45]: be there in 15, gotta wait for ppl to leave

And so you all wait, eagerly discussing and praising your friend’s performance and the musical as a whole between the four of you.

Time goes by so quickly that you yelp in surprise when you notice your best friend making his way towards your group.

“Tae oh my fucking god!” You let go of Yoongi’s hand and run into Taehyung’s arms. “You were unreal up there.”

You part from him to let everyone congratulate his performance, Hoseok clapping excitedly and crushing him into a fierce hug while Yoongi simply pats him on the shoulder.

“You were born to be on stage sweetie,” Seokjin approaches him and lays a passionate kiss on the younger man’s lips.

They exchange a few words before Taehyung addresses you, his head laying on Seokjin’s large shoulders,

“I know we planned to go somewhere after this but I’m officially drained. Rain check? Y’all still owe me a celebratory meal.”

You snort loudly. “All good babe. Go rest, you need it.”

Hoseok ruffles Seokjin’s hair. “Can I catch a ride with you?”

“As long as you never, ever, touch my hair again, yes.”

Taehyung chuckles airily, an endeared boxy grin etched upon his face as he glances adoringly at the older man.

And so you all say goodbye and head towards your respective cars. You slump down the passenger side’s seat and tug your coat off, waiting for Yoongi to start the ignition.

He drives out of the parking lot and onto the highway, glancing at you from time to time, not saying a single word. You feel anxiety bubbling up your chest and decide to break the tense silence,

“Are you dropping me off at home?”

Yoongi chuckles almost menacingly. “Oh no, we’re sleeping at my place tonight.”

“Umm.. since when?” You give him a quizzical look.

He clenches his jaw before replying,

“Since you decided to play a game you know you can’t win.”

Oh.

You slide a hand up his thigh, your fingers brushing over his crotch, and relish in the sharp intake of air that reaches your ears.

“What game?” You tease.

“Angel,” Yoongi rasps through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the wheel so forcefully that his knuckles turn white.

And you might be liking this a bit too much, but it’s way too fun to stop now.

So you repeat the motion, sliding your hand up and down his thigh, brushing over his crotch again.

“Yes?” You flutter your eyelashes innocently.

You barely even notice Yoongi taking the next exit and driving down small deserted streets until the car stops in a small parking lot next to the water.

You don’t recognize the public park in which you now find yourself in.

“Uh, Yoongi? This isn’t your place as far as I know.”

The man lowers the backrest of the car seat to a more comfortable position, unfastens his seatbelt and grabs your hand, pushing it against the growing tent in his trousers, electrifying arousal growing sharply in your abdomen as he does so.

“Well, it seems like you couldn’t wait to be home to act like a brat. So go ahead, do what you want.”

You swallow thickly. “Here? What if someone walks past us?”

Yoongi smirks and closes his eyes before bringing his arms up and slipping his hands behind his head. “Didn’t seem to bother you one bit earlier.”

And maybe it shouldn’t, but the thought of maybe getting caught, coupled with the alluring confidence emanating from Yoongi casts a hazy cloud in your mind, making you want to please the man more than anything in the world.

And so you unfasten your seatbelt and lift your skirt up to straddle the man easily. But he stops you before you can climb him,

“No.”

You stare at him in sheer confusion.

“That’s not what you were trying to do earlier. Use your hands angel, then we’ll see if you deserve more.”

You all but shudder and nod weakly. Yoongi might’ve been a bit dominating before, but it was nothing compared to this. The confident, authoritative glint in his voice sends your mind into a frenzy, you want to get to know this side of him better.

He quirks a brow at you and closes his eyes again,

“Well?”

You snake a trembling hand up to the zipper of his trousers, struggling a bit before sliding it all the way down. You can feel how aroused he is, how hard his thick, warm length feels under the thin material of his underwear. It gives you a major boost of confidence, knowing how eager Yoongi actually is to feel you.

“Can you um..lift your hips,” You bashfully ask.

Yoongi blinks and chuckles amusedly before lifting his hips up and tugging his boxers and trousers halfway down, liberating his warm cock from the confines of his clothes.

He watches carefully as you bring a hand up to your mouth and spit on it, his eyes darkening as soon as the thick saliva trickles down your palm.

His gaze only falters for a few seconds when you wrap your hand around him, and focuses again as soon as you start pumping him in slow, drawn out motions.

He stays silent, though immensely focused when you start going faster, swirling your wrist from time to time and applying a little more pressure when you reach his reddened tip, only to dive down again and again.

His ragged breathing is the only thing that cues you in on how much he’s actually enjoying this and so, you ask with a tiny, shaky voice,

“Can I umm..”

The words don't come out. It’s not that you’re shy about doing it, It just feels weird to say out loud.

“Can you what?” He asks with a gravely low voice that sends a wave of shivers up your spine.

You look at him with pleading eyes as you continue sliding your hand up and down his length. Yoongi simply quirks a brow at you, refusing you mercy.

“Can you what, love?”

You take a shallow breath and whisper,

“Can I suck you off?”

You can almost sense the moment he breaks, it feels like the air inside the small car gets even more suffocating, making you lightheaded.

“Fuck, yeah, go on.”

A pleasurable knot forms itself in your stomach as you eagerly dive down to leave a teasing lick on the tip of Yoongi’s cock, the salty taste of precum coating your tongue deliciously.

You flick your tongue against the slit of his girth, smirking when you feel Yoongi jolt and moan quietly. He pushes away the strands of hair dangling in front of your eyes and grabs the rest of your hair in a messy bun, holding it in a firm but gentle grip.

He groans lowly when you slowly wrap your lips around him and slide down his length, pressing your tongue along his frenulum as you do so, and repeat the motion a few times, hollowing your cheeks to coax as much pleasure as you possibly can out of him.

You come up for air for a few seconds before spitting on his cock and taking him back in your mouth, feeling every protruding vein on his thick member as you swirl your tongue around it. You rapidly pick up a faster pace, bobbing your head up and down as you hear a myriad of curses escape Yoongi’s lips.

It only makes you grow bolder and bolder and so you dive down lower, only stopping when your nose brushes against soft skin. You gag lightly and repeat the motion a second time, to the man’s greatest pleasure, if his choked guttural groan is anything to go by.

As soon as the tip of his thick length hits the back of your throat, you feel Yoongi bucking his hips forward, making you gag and cough loudly around him, saliva trickling down your mouth filthily.

“Fuck I’m so sorry,” He tugs on your hair and lifts you up, the sharp sting sending a shock of pleasure through you.

You gasp for air and feel drool sliding along your throat, all the way down to the neckline of your dress, a few teardrops escaping your eyes.

“It’s ok.. I like it,” You rasp out as soon as you can breathe somewhat normally.

Yoongi groans. “Fucking hell, yeah? You like choking on my cock, angel?”

You mewl in response, feeling a familiar wetness in between your legs slowly spreading to the inside of your thighs.

“Can I fuck your mouth, mmhm? Can you do that for me?” He tilts your head upwards and brings you closer, his face now a few inches away from yours.

You nod frantically, more than excited by the prospect of Yoongi fucking into your mouth aggressively, using you as he pleases to get himself off. There’s nothing quite as tempting in the whole world. At least at this moment.

“You sure?” He wipes drool off your chin and gently strokes your flushed cheek with the back of his hand.

“Yes, please..”

“Begging to choke on my cock, for fuck’s sake.”

Yoongi bruisingly crashes his lips onto yours and devours your mouth with unbridled passion, instantly and greedily swallowing your whimpers as they reach your throat.

He disconnects your mouths and breathes out unevenly. “You ready?”

You nod eagerly and Yoongi guides you back to his painfully hard erection. You instantly wrap your lips around him, sighing in relief as soon as you do.

He growls mutedly. “Squeeze my thigh if you ever feel uncomfortable and want me to stop, ok angel?”

You hum and tantalizingly lick the side of his length, which only makes him tighten his hold on your hair.

He starts bucking his hips forward, and it’s slow at first, as he drags the tip of his erection against your warm tongue numerous times. But he soon picks up his pace, snapping in and out of your mouth rapidly before engulfing himself far down your tight throat, only stopping when he hears you gagging around him.

Then he picks up an unhurried pace again and alternates between slow and fast, aggressive and gentle. You feel dizzy and completely fucked out, your underwear completely ruined by sheer arousal. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life.

You squeal in surprise when Yoongi lifts you up swiftly and kisses you feverishly, as if trying to taste each and every corner of your mouth with the help of his skilled tongue.

A thick trail of saliva connects both of your mouths when you part for air. Yoongi cups your cheeks and leaves a soft peck on your swollen lips, it has you seeing stars, your heart growing bigger in size at the care he exudes through his actions.

“Such a good girl for me.”

You smile shyly at him and nuzzle the tip of his nose, pride blooming in your chest as you realize how good you’ve made him feel.

“Come here angel.”

He skirts your dress up to your hip bones and helps you straddle him, holding you in place as you settle somewhat comfortably on his lap. Your legs tremble furiously when you try to hold yourself up and you whine pitifully.

“Yoongi, I don’t think I can move my legs for long.”

He leaves a sweet peck on your lips before murmuring,

“I got you.”

Your heart soars as his words register and you dive down to the crook of his neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses as you get rid of the bow around his collar.

When the accessory is finally off, you leisurely unbutton his dress shirt, your fingers lingering longingly on the small expanse of his chest, now available to your rapacious hands.

You're thrown off guard when Yoongi drags the tip of his fingers against your covered core, spurring light jolts out of you as he teases you mercilessly for a few interminable seconds.

“Yoongi, please, I need you..” You sob out, your legs now shaking uncontrollably.

“Just-, Give me a minute to make sure I don’t hurt you alright?”

“But I’m ready, please.” You plead brokenly, completely unbothered by how fucking needy you sound.

He takes a deep inhale, holding your waist with one hand before pushing your underwear aside and sliding two digits into you, his fingers meeting no resistance whatsoever.

You moan softly, and you think you could come just like this with how fucking aroused you are.

“Fuck, you are ready.”

Yoongi thrusts his fingers in and out of you, dragging them along your walls before slipping them out of you, much to your disappointment.

You whine and pout deeply. “I told you.”

“I know baby,” He soothes as he lightly slaps your cunt, making you shudder in his hold.

He grips his own veiny girth, pumping it a few times while simultaneously holding your panties to the side before aligning himself with your entrance.

Your pout slowly morphs into a gasp when you feel his throbbing length sliding into you in one smooth motion, stretching you nicely around its circumference.

“Oh fuck,” You harshly breathe out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head before coming back to focus on Yoongi’s.

The black haired man brings one hand to your hip and the other up to your throat, squeezing lightly as he steadily holds your gaze, burning lava swimming in his dark brown orbs.

And that’s exactly how your whole body feels as Yoongi picks up a long languorous pace. Like lava, malleable, pliant and hot to the touch, like the only thing capable of laying a hand upon you would have to be something equally fiery.

You always thought that Yoongi shared a lot of similarities with burning coal. Intoxicating, warm. Like if he wanted to, he could make you burn alongside him.

Though, if you’re being honest, you think you’ve been burning for quite some time.

You snap out of a daze like state when you feel Yoongi’s grip on your throat tightening and mewl loudly as he starts rapidly thrusting into you. He swirls his hips up and down and you can only hold on to his broad shoulders, gripping so harshly you might have left marks if it wasn’t for the jacket that the man hadn’t bothered to shrug off.

Then he slows down again, his shallow breath fanning over your face over and over again as you peer deep in his eyes, the knot in your abdomen tightening exponentially with every sharp thrust of his hips.

You feel deft fingers crawling down your side, unzipping your dress in one quick motion before they tug the upper part of the garment down, your breast now bouncing up and down as Yoongi keeps fucking into you.

He tweaks one of your pert nipples and latches his mouth on the other one, flicking and nibbling teasingly at it while you can only shiver in pure ecstasy.

A wanton moan slips past your throat when he suddenly picks up an unrelenting pace and you instinctively arch your back, deepening the angle at which he rams into you at full speed.

“Yoongi..” You whimper, bringing your forehead against his and the man soon cradles the side of your face.

“Y-yeah?” He chokes out unevenly.

Your vision focuses onto him as the rest grows blurry, you feel your orgasm at the tip of your fingers, tingling all over the extremities of your limbs, like a dam ready to burst at any moment.

“Don’t stop, fuck-“

Your head falls down on his shoulder and your peak washes over you in overwhelming waves, blinding you for a few moments as you hold onto his strong frame for dear life. You convulse and pulse steadily around him, clenching and unclenching while he continues his ministrations, his cock throbbing around your swollen folds.

“Babe-“ Yoongi starts, out of breath. “You need to get off, I’m gonna cum-” He rasps out, sinking his nails into the supple skin of your thigh.

And so you muster all the strength you can gather and lift your hips up, setting them back down as soon as you feel him slip out, much to your dismay.

He tries to grip himself but you beat him to it, pumping his veiny length fast and hard as Yoongi moans hoarsely and comes undone, spilling all over your hand in thick spurts of unrestrained pleasure.

You look into his eyes and bring your sticky hand up, licking away all traces of his white release while thoroughly maintaining eye contact. Yoongi stares at you with his mouth agape, breathing heavily and swallowing thickly.

“What are you doing to me,” He blinks and cards a trembling hand through his jet black hair, the other one softly caressing your bruised thigh.

“And what are you doing to-“ You abruptly stop, noticing light coming your way through the fogged up window. “Holy shit, someone’s coming!”

Yoongi sends you an alarmed look and lowers the backrest of his seat all the way down, making you lose your balance. You plant your hands on both sides of his body to try not to crush him under your weight and hide your face against his chest.

“Are they close,” He whispers as he tries to cover your bare ass by laying a coat on top of your frame.

You roll your eyes against closed eyelids,

“I don’t know, I’d have to be able to see to tell you that.”

Yoongi swallows down a chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“Shhhh!” You whisper aggressively.

You both stay silent for a minute or two, your heart rates picking up when the light gets so close you can see it behind closed eyelids. But no one comes knocking on the window, and after a minute or two you lift your head up and tentatively take a peek outside.

“Oh my fucking god it was the cops, they didn’t see us,” You clasp a hand over your mouth and look at Yoongi with a mortified expression. “Can you imagine if they got here a few minutes ago.”

He glances at you with wide eyes before bursting into laughter, a wide grin appearing on his face. And you can’t help but follow suit, throwing yourself back against his chest as you both giggle endlessly.

“Oh shit, that was such a close call,” He wipes at the corner of his eyes.

You slap his chest playfully. “What a bad idea.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier,” He teases as he pulls your dress up and zips it back up, taking the opportunity to draw shapes along the expanse of your collarbone.

You lay a long, soft kiss upon his pillowy lips, sinking into his hold for a few moments before murmuring against his lips,

“Let’s go home before someone else comes, yeah?”

And he gives you such a tender look that you can’t help but feel so many things, things you don’t want to feel, things you’re scared of and can’t even mention out loud.

But you feel them still, simmering in your stomach comfortingly despite the terror lurking in your mind like a shadow.

“Yeah, let’s.”

“How are we this late?”

Yoongi shoots you an unimpressed look.

“We’re late because someone decided to lay on the ground and cuddle Cat for at least a good ten minutes.”

“Hey!” You yelp indignantly. “Cat looked like it needed cuddles.”

Yoongi slips his hand in yours as you both walk rapidly towards the bar’s main entrance.

“Cat always needs cuddles.”

“Ooo, reminds me of someone.”

The look of disgust on Yoongi’s face sends you into a raucous fit of laughter.

“Says you.”

You click your tongue, “Oh but I’m not afraid to admit it. You, on the other hand, will pretend you don’t want cuddles and affection, but you so do.”

“I’m leaving you on the side of the road tonight,” He deadpans, letting go of your hand and walking faster ahead.

“That’s mean!” You holler and quicken your pace, grabbing his arm and leaning your head on his shoulder as the man wraps an arm around your waist.

You stop just a few feet away from the door and tug on his arm. “Yoongi.”

“What is it?” He lifts his hand up to your cheek, carefully cradling it.

“Kiss me?” You give him your best puppy eyes.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but still leans down to lay a chaste (but fatal nonetheless) kiss upon your lips, stroking your cold cheek with the back of his thumb as he does so.

You chase after his plush lips once he parts from you, earning you a low chuckle from the object of your affection, “Greedy.”

You pout, “So what.”

The barman shakes his head fondly. “Nothing, you’re just cute.”

“Well-,”

“You guys coming in or?”

You both simultaneously turn towards the disruption, annoyed, just then noticing Namjoon holding the door open from the inside of the establishment.

The doorman shrugs and gives you a dimpled smile. “It’s freezing, I’m not gonna hold it forever.”

“Yeah we’re coming,” Yoongi mumbles as he slips his hand in yours and walks through the threshold.

You follow him as he steps up the stairs, an impish smile on your lips. “You’re holding my hand again.”

He gives you a questioning look. “So what?”

“You and Cat share a lot of traits, that’s all.”

“Oh fucking hell.”

Saturday night ends up being a pretty busy night, as usual, and so, time goes by so fast you barely have time to blink before the night is over.

You’re probing through your purse in the employees lounge when Yoongi’s voice reaches your ears, making you still in your movements instantly.

“I mean what do you want me to say Joon? I thought it might’ve been something special, but turns out it was only physical attraction and sex. I realized that not too long ago.” He sighs. “I feel fucking awful, but it is what it is.”

And if you thought you’d known heartbreak before, nothing could prepare you for the painful manner in which your stomach churns as Yoongi’s words sink in, or the way your heart feels like it’s been ripped from your chest, only to be aggressively stepped on again and again.

You don’t understand, can’t comprehend, how Yoongi can act the way he does when he’s with you, only to then say that the connection you share is merely physical, replaceable.

You fight back tears as you make your way behind the bar, staring intently at the back of Yoongi’s black head of hair.

“I mean it can be pretty hard to tell the difference between lust and love, I get it. They’re both so intertwined together most of the time.” Namjoon explains matter-of-factly.

“I mean what I did still sucks-“

“Yoongi..” You croak out, trying to the best of your abilities to keep it together, though you feel like you probably won’t succeed in doing so.

Both men turn around and look at you in surprise.

“I thought-“ Your voice cracks under the weight of overwhelming emotions tearing through your chest and up your throat.

You feel like throwing up, actually throwing up.

Yoongi’s surprised expression morphs into one of immense concern, he furrows his brows and steps closer.

“What’s going on?” He asks with urgency.

You shake your head frantically and step backwards as a teardrop rolls down your cheek treacherously. “I thought-“ You stop again.

“I don’t.. I don’t know what I thought, it clearly doesn’t matter.” You turn on your heels and head back to the employees lounge, taking your purse and coat as Yoongi follows you and grabs your elbow, making you swivel around in a dizzying motion.

“Talk to me angel, what’s happening? What are you talking about? You’re scaring me..”

“Yeah well, maybe if you told me I was only a good fuck from the moment you figured it out, we wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneer angrily, hurt and shame engulfing you in a red fog of anger

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Woah, what are you talking about? I’m confused as fuck.”

“So am I! I can’t talk to you right now Yoongi, I’ll take a cab home.”

You shrug his hands off and storm out of the lounge, not even noticing your friends' shocked stares as you almost run to the exit, too ashamed by your emotions to let them see you like this.

Swinging the door open, you step down the street, only stopping in your tracks once you remember your car isn’t here and you need to order a cab.

And so you open the uber app and book a ride, ignoring a notification from Jimin as the screen informs you that your driver should be here in five minutes. You exhale sharply and close your eyes, reminding yourself to take deep breaths.

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you hear a door being thrown open and footsteps inching closer to you.

“Angel what the fuck is going on, talk to me. I don’t understand, fuck, you know I don’t see you as just a good fuck I-“ Yoongi’s pleading voice tugs viciously at your heartstrings, tears now streaming down your face in an unrestrained manner.

“I heard you talking to Namjoon just now, Yoongi..” You hiccup brokenly.

Yoongi cups your face delicately and you avoid his troubled gaze, opting to look at the ground instead.

There’s a thin layer of snow glistening on the concrete. You hadn’t even noticed it had been snowing until now.

“Look at me please.”

You shake your head no, knowing you would probably break down and full on sob if you did.

He brings his forehead against yours, his hold on both sides of your face steady and so comforting it only amplifies your confused state.

“Look at me..”

And you can’t ignore the way his voice breaks, so you sniffle loudly and slowly lift your gaze up, meeting teary dark pools of gloom as you do.

“I wasn’t talking about you just now, Namjoon-ah asked about Sam.. You know I think so much more of you, why would you even think I’d treat you like this..”

A sob racks through your whole being as you shakily exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “I didn’t- I’m sorry I just assumed the worst I-“

“Shhh, hey, it’s ok.”

“But it’s not ok Yoongi.” You blink a few tears away and hold his gaze. “You give me absolutely no reason to doubt you, and yet.”

You inhale deeply before speaking again, your voice tiny and feeble, unfamiliar to your own ears,

“How is this supposed to work -us- if I can’t bring myself to trust you?”

“Woah, what are you even saying? We’ll figure it out.” Yoongi soothes, a hint of anxiousness in his warm tone.

“No, you’re not listening. You deserve better than this, than me.”

“That’s not true.”

Yoongi’s eyes glisten with unshed tears and you just know, at that exact moment, that you really do not deserve him. Because anybody responsible for this man’s tears and pain isn’t deserving of him, plain and simple.

A black car enters your field of view and halts in front of the bar’s facade, a few meters away from you and Yoongi. You recognize the little taxi sign on top of it.

“My cab is here,” You whisper, as you peck his cheek one last time and start heading towards the cab, walking away from a dejected Yoongi with a numb mind and shattered heart.

You want to go back to his arms, let yourself be happy and content in his secure hold. But you can’t, because you feel so much for him, too much. Too much love, admiration and affection, and you can’t hold him back.

You won’t.

a/n: im not crying it’s fine, we’re good. ok ok.. I’m sorry, I love you<3 as always your feedback and comments are ALWAYS appreciated, thank you<3

// to be added to the sunrises & liquor tag list click right here and interact with the taglist post, thank you for reading <3

taglist: @knapris @tarahardcore @tea4sykes @bonitaangel @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @princesspiineapple @funkylittlebisexuall @kikaninchen-2 @diorjgguk @purplelo @lil6nmrll @perfect-bae @bxcndd @funsizemarsbar92 @kookoo-kachoo @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @glowunderthemoon @idkjustlovingbts @minijagiya @bwormie @fragmentof-indifference

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sleepingcatemojis · 11 months

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okay so,, this might sorta end up being a long list?? and im really sorry if its something youve already done or its already on the to-do list (im dyslexic and unfortunately couldnt be bothered to read the whole thing :() and youre also obviously not obligated to do them All At Once or even do them at all i just. dont wanna send these all in separate asks,, sorry aaa

a drinking from a baby bottle emote with light pink, light blue, and light yellow cap variants?

baby bottle emotes that have the text “bottle empty,” “bottle full,” and “want bottle”? (if you can manage with the same colors as above?)

pacifier emotes with those colors? both like. paci in mouth and pacis on their own (maybe with “want paci” for the latter)

the hoodie stims but with like. a black/dark gray winter coat with a fluffy white hood?

clapping hand stims?

maybe some biting emotes? could be biting people, blankets, stuffies,, im not totally sure a lot of us are just Bitey people we like biting things

a like. nuzzle emoji? like rubbing your face against someone. maybe with puppy ear variants?

puppy kisses (licking) if that isnt too weird?

/neg stim emotes that are like. head hitting, chest hitting, crossing arms and gripping them, hitting a pillow?

crying into a stuffie? specifically a gray wolf stuffie with a white belly/underside/legs and brown muzzle also w a white underside if u can (hyperspecific i know but its our favorite plush,, its a wild republic wolf plushie if that helps)

giving a plushie a forehead kiss? again specifically the above if u can

emote of someone trying to eat a crayon? our littles do that a lot and i think they would love an emoji for that

flower crown emotes? w blue flowers but u can do variants if u like

purple octopus tentacle stims? where like. the lower half of the body is replaced by tentacles

hugging a heart plushie? maybe w color variants if u can

puppyperson chewing on things they shouldnt maybe? just the face w puppy ears specifically. could be phones, paper, pencils, just. whatever bc our dog hybrid folks like to put things that they absolutely Should Not in their mouths

idk if this is weird but emojis to indicate being blind, deaf, etc? im not sure how to describe it but yeah

wheelchair emote(s)?

velociraptor tail stims? i know u dont do character reqs but if u could do one based on blue from jw thatd be awesome!! obvs not forcing u,,

maybe a person surrounded by stuffies, blankets, pillows, etc? with and without the word “nesting” underneath if possible ^^

again i am sososo sorry for how long this list is, we just have a lot of difficulty finding emotes like this and we adore your style and how much variation ur emojis have ^^" if u dont know how to do some of these, dont feel comfortable, or dont want to, you obviously do not have to. im super sorry if this bothers you at all, id hate to do that,, thank you either way!!!

- 💗🎶

like i did with a previous very long request, i’ll be queueing all the emotes i made for this separately!!

i do already have a biting someone emote here (link) and a "puppy kisses" or licking emote here (link)!!

also, i did not make a wheelchair emoji YET because i need to practice drawing wheelchairs more before i put out an emote that i won’t be satisfied with and that could possibly be inaccurate. i WILL be making them, just at a later date!

#requests

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hekates-corner · 5 months

Text

Apothecary Diaries | WN Translation | Arc 9 - Chapter 2

Hi. However you found this, welcome!

For a number of reasons I ended up here - I relay all that happens in the chapters, playing wine-aunt, as I translate to the best of my abilities.

So, be warned: There's all the spoilers down below. If you'd like to get spoiled but less? My dm's/asks are open!

Chapter 1 | Masterlist.

Chapter 2

When Rikuson returns to his room, he lets out a sigh. He then mutters something to himself before taking off his mud and sand stained clothes. “That’s malicious” is what I keep getting from it, but I’m not 100%.

He'd been asking to patrol the countryside for quite a while, but it wasn't until 5 days ago that he was given permission by Gyokuou - but today he rushed back due to a bad feeling he had.

The next is him muttering something to himself along the lines of when he left he was told that there would be a delay. He goes on to recall that he left 5 days prior because he was told that the guests from Li/the capital wouldn't arrive in about ten days. So he took off five days prior to a rural village.

We then get a whole giant paragraph on him dusting off his jacket and so forth. He also mentions how he wants to take a bath, but can’t and that he doesn’t even seem to have enough time to at least wipe down his body. So, he has no choice but to put incense paste on his neck.

In Saito(?), there’s two types of incense: perfume or kneaded and he has an option of each, but…. one of them was a gift, while the other is something he was kinda forced to buy while in town.

I can’t for the life of me figure out who sent him the joke gift, but we will just ignore that for now, it’s either Gyokuou or someone else.. or not, because he continues thinking about how the one he ends up going with hardly sells.

All the incense in this city has a strong smell, so something cheaper with a weaker scent was just right - before anything though, he can’t imagine wearing something he got from… idk, I couldn’t tell you.

After putting on just enough to cover the smell of sweat, he puts on a smile. After all, smiling is essential in business - and one should never stop smiling when dealing with customers. He can still recall his mothers words.

Rikuson then wonders what face his current boss will make, given how much earlier than planned he returned (around five days earlier).. and that it will be a little uncomfortable if his old boss, Lakan, was there, but he can’t help it.

He tightens his sash/belt and leaves the room.

“It’s been a while.” - We return, with Rikuson entering the hall where Gyokuou and his subordinates are mingling. They and the guests are enjoying a light meal.. while the servers take turns coming in and preparing the dishes.

Despite it still being early for dinner, it was luxurious.. and he couldn’t have forgotten the face of that guest.

A man with stubble beard and a monocle: Lakan. His former boss who understands all without being told. The one next to him was an attendant that had already served before Rikuson. In fact, the poor thing cried when thanking Rikuson for helping him when he first started working for Lakan.

In the end, Rikuson couldn’t remain by Lakan’s side forever, but the remaining attendant often accompanies Lakan.

There’s a remark next about how the attendant is a competent person, but his character is partially bad or that he sometimes falls short.. which is unchangeable, because “once you are under Lakan, you have no other choice but to give up”.

The attendant seems to notice Rikuson, for he nods his way with his eyes while listening to Lakan. The latter appears to be the same as always.

Lakan ends up looking at Rikuson with a blank expression, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed Rikuson if the attendant hadn’t told/gestured to him. There are times when Rikuson wants to ask what he looks like in Lakans eyes.

Someone ends up continuously waving and calling for Rikuson, all the while looking at Gyokuou as if to check if it’s alright to approach him.

Gyokuou, sits in the center at a table and waves with one hand to say hello. Rikuson ends up feeling quite uncomfortable and the attendant just looks at him with an indescribable expression because due to his own position he likely knows who has priority: the boss, or the former boss.

Meanwhile Lakan isn’t bothered at all, he just keeps eating fried food. Behind him was a maid, who ate a bite before handing the food over to Lakan - Rikuson hadn’t seen her before.

Despite hearing talk that the Emperor's “younger brother” should be there, Rikuson can’t find Jinshi anywhere - but then he thinks that this wasn’t an official gathering per se and that Lakan likely just showed up without thinking about it. As he looks at the attendant, he understands that he (Lakan, I think) should’ve declined.

“Ehm.. Rikuson, I want to eat those bread rolls.” - For a moment Lakan thought he’d forgotten the name, but he was right.. and speaking of those manju (bean-jam dumpling/steamed yeast bun with filling).. If you guessed there’s an argument about steamed buns, you’re right.

Far as I could gather Lakan says that he wants to have a certain type of bun, but his attendant doesn’t remember their name - ironically Rikuson thought Lakan had already forgotten his? - but the attendant claims it’s the bun Lakan already has.. for a moment Rikuson can’t tell from the bun alone, but he searches his memory for an answer.

Rikuson is like “It’s sweet, isn’t it.” and Lakan(?) says yes. Rikuson asks if there were any ingredients (special ones, probably) and Lakan(?) says that he doesn’t think there were any.

Rikuson then thinks that the red bean paste filling doesn’t appear to be sweet and inquires if the buns are something that’s eaten with sauce or something… and… like.. Lakan says something along the lines of “the white one/white stuff is delicious”, or alternatively “i love the dipping - the white stuff”... like, okay Lakan, Mr. Monocle, I didn’t wanna know you that deeply, but hey man, whatever floats your boat-

Please excuse your translator not being professional but like.. come on xD

Rikuson then has an idea. He asks if it’s the fried manju from a certain hotel and Lakan(?) is like “I think so.” - the man ate them once and ever since then Rikuson had to go back to buy them, several times.

He then orders the attendant to serve the hanamaki (chinese twisted buns) with condensed milk that has a bit of sugar added to it and the attendant is like “Understood.”. It’s because Lakan had a hanamaki laying in front of him that Rikuson remembered.

Someone interrupts it all by stating how delicious the fried noodle buns with condensed milk look and that’s when Rikuson takes note of the lady attendant who seems to be a poison tester - she has a twinkle in her eye and while she doesn’t look much like a lady-in-waiting he wonders if she’s another stray that Lakan picked up.

He also thinks that, given after how long they finally met again and the conversation they just had, Lakan’s still just.. Lakan, unchanged as ever.

The talk about buns continues, as the attendant says to Lakan that he’ll prepare them for tomorrow's dim-sum. (Dim-sum is a traditional chinese meal made up of small plates of dumplings and other snack dishes that’s usually accompanied by tea - a sorta brunch)… but bratty Lakan is like “But i wanna have them for tonights dinner.” and his attendent’s like “Please don’t be rude, this is a dinner party.”.

While the attendant speaks in a low voice, as if he’s reluctant to even mumble, when Rikuson glances at him from the side, because it looks like he’s having trouble, he glares at Rikuson.

In an attempt to make up Rikuson says to the attendant that nothing’s changed/it’s all the same as always… and the attendant shoots back with a simple but effective “yeah, no change.. it seems that you’ve become a big fan of the western capital.”

Rikuson comes up with the conclusion that the attendant must’ve noticed his tan skin and the incense smell - in the capital he never used to burn any.

As if to make things worse, at long last Gyokuou butts in now, saying that Rikuson has only just returned from a long trip and to forgive him (who doesn’t like loyalty questions in already loyalty shattering circumstances, right?)

Gyokuou seems to have overheard the conversation, eating meat all the while and the attendant can only stutter out “I-I see.”.

The attendant goes pale in the face, and Rikuson takes note of that happening likely because he (the attendant) never expected to get called out to and not by that man. Gyokuou also inquires if the food’s alright and says that if they want anything he’ll have it made for them then and there..

And of course, “I wonder if there's fried noodle dumplings from (x) hotel.” Lakan says that with.. no hesitation whatsoever.

Logically Gyokuou is like “Huh, what fried noodle dumplings?” and since he’s the one to ask, Rikuson is forced to explain - at that point the poor guy's stomach starts to hurt.

Rikuson lets out a breath, despite having an inkling, he still wonders if this is gonna go on for another good while.

| Chapter 3 & Notes

That's where the chapters ends.

On that note, I couldn’t quite grasp the name of the hotel, so I’m just leaving that out for now.

When it comes to the taste tester Lakan has with him, I’m assuming it’s Chue, but there was no name or description given really outside of sparkly eyes related to food - which seems kinda valid given V9's banquet.

And last but not least, the reason for me not using the chapter titles is because I’m pretty sure they don’t translate as well - they don’t have a proper sentence structure after all.. but so far, we had “Saito” and “Boss and former boss”.

If there are any questions, my dms and asks are open. Also, if you'd like to get notified when new uploads drop, I'm up to send a dm or tag - just let me know!

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #hekates apothecary

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