#mans so big the hot air balloon can’t take off
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Xavier: Renegade Angel #20: “Braingea’s Final Cranny” | April 17, 2009 - 12:15AM | S02E10
The final episode of Xavier is here and boy, what a show. I don’t think I ever watched this one, either, so I can’t pad this out with barely-relevant tangents about how I was working on a commercial fishing boat at the time of it’s airing or whatever it was I was doing. I miss the sea.
Xavier yearns for his mother so hard that he cries for 9 months, creating a fertile beach with it’s own ocean (ah, there she is! How I’ve missed her so!). Xavier inadvertently harms a young man with his first job, dressing like a dolphin and handing out free samples or some shit. Xavier mistakes him for the real thing and tosses him into the ocean. He gets out alive, but then Xavier mistakes his scuffed up Dolphin dress as a carcass, and forces him to eat it in front of him, an ethical thing to do if you kill a living creature. Later, when he finds the guy trying to commit suicide he orders him to eat himself.
That guy winds up getting taken to an asylum, and Xavier sneaks in with him, believing his mother is there. He then has to “pretend” to be insane. He is psychoanalyzed using a Rorschach test, which anthropomorphizes into a guy that talks to Xavier and explains that he can take any form Xavier wants. The inkblot can’t take Xavier and eventually materializes on the psychiatrist’s couch, and is committed.
Later, Xavier finally finds his mother in the lobotomy room. He digs through a pile of brain and finds the missing chunk from her head and crams it back into her head. When she comes back to full sentience, she tells Xavier that she faked her death to get away from him, and that she doesn’t want to see him ever again. She ensures this happens by gouging her own eyes out.
Xavier meets Nurse Escher and you KNOW they gonna bone. They bone, then the psychiatrist reveals that the nurse is Xavier’s real mother, and he was trying to prove a scientific theory that lobotomies remove oedipal taboo from the brain.
The inkblot comes back and runs off with Xavier’s mother, taking them back to the beach. Xavier travels to the beach by jamming together all the lobotomy pieces into one big brain, which sorta functions like a hot air balloon. He gets the blot to turn into an ice cream cone and consumes it. 9 months later, he, his mom, and his fake mom all give a tandem birth to Xavier’s incest baby, which becomes that weird symbol that’s in every episode. We pull out of the symbol on a Rorschach test being administered to Xavier back in the psychiatrist’s office. There, Xavier finds out that he’s beautiful by looking into a hand mirror and seeing a conventionally handsome man looking back at him. The psychiatrist now looks like Xavier. THE END?
This one is ultimately sort of a middling episode, but it has some great laughs. The run where Xavier is trying different brain chunks on his supposed lobotomized mother had three great gags in a row. I assume I laughed at them, because I wrote them down, and that’s usually the reason I write specific jokes down. When he shoves in a piece, his mother begins talking in the voice of whatever brain it actually is. He tries a young man’s voice who is confessing to his father that he forgot all of his pizza knowledge. “Dumb (DISGUSTING AND OFFENSIVE anti-Italian slur) coulda used a Goombotomy.” Then he tries one where the voice is a sports announcer calling the winner of some game. “Damn it, I had money on that game.” The next one causes chicken noises to come out of his mother. “Oh, chicken, Yum!” Xavier says before chomping the brain bit. That said, I think I prefer Damnesia Me, meaning You, as my head-canon finale.
Okay, I usually like to do a top ten (in chronological order) of each show when they end. This one was tough for me, but I tried. I bet if I went through the show again I’d come up with a slightly different list. HERE IT IS:
S01E01: “What Life D-D-Doth”
S01E03: “Weapons Grade Life”
S01E05: “Pet Siouxicide”
S01E07: “Bloodcorn”
S01E09: “Signs from Godrilla”
S01E10: “Shakashuri Blowdown”
S02E05: “Vibracaust”
S02E05: “Free Range Manibalism”
S02E06: “Damnesia Vu”
S02E09: “Damnesia You”
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Balloonomania Part I: Putting the mania in, well, balloonomania
A collection of my balloonomania posts got more notes than I expected them to (see: more than, like, 10) and a fair few tags of people saying they wanted to hear more.
I can’t deny people who want to hear about balloons anything, so I thought I wanted to do a little series for whenever I maybe have an hour and don’t want to Draw. (This is a long post but I promise there's a dirty balloon joke at the end if that's what you're into).
Why do I care about the early days of ballooning so much?
Well, one thing about me, is I’m a little guy who LOVES when history is silly. And hot air balloon history is extremely silly.
This was a time of SO much fuss. Here are some highlights
Humans took to the skies powered by the smell of burning old shoes and rotten meat.
The Montgolfier brothers launched the first ever hot air balloon in 1783 (in front of an audience at least). It worked very well all things considered, but it’s worth nothing that the Montgolfier brothers were the sons of an affluent paper-maker, NOT scientists. They had figured out that hot air had the capacity for lifting pieces of paper and cloth, but not actually why. What they thought was going on was that a particularly thick and solid smoke was able to induce the lift-off they needed.
So they ‘invented’ what they named ‘Montgolfier gas’, a particularly vile recipe for thick black smoke. Burn some wet straw, old shoes and spoiled meat and bob’s your uncle. Take-off!
(Hydrogen had been discovered like 20 years prior and other actual scientists basically immediately starting implementing hydrogen in their balloons, but the first launches? Stinky)
Hot air balloons were all the rage, right away
It’s hard to understate the absolute strangle-hold hot air balloons had on particularly France and England very early on. Sept. 19, 1783, the brothers launched their famous ‘manned’ hot air balloon (the passengers were a sheep, a duck and a rooster, who, yes, were all fine in the end) to an audience of yes, King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette and a whopping 130.000 spectators.
When Vincenzo Lunardi (gentleman, heartbreaker, lover of cats) launched his first balloon on british soil in 1784, it was to an audience of 150.000 people. Again, this was in the late 1700’s. An estimated 1 million people lived in London at the time. Not all balloon launches in the coming years would have such wild accumulations of crowd come witness them, but they were often times still very big, very anticipated events.
Anywhere you look? BALLOONS
Contemporary accounts describe it as the balloon madness. The frenzy. The rage.
And aside from the staggering number of people willing to stand around and watch a balloon take off (or fail to) I think a lot of these adjectives are the result of an interesting overlap between an early culture of consumerism and Balloonomania.
Not only was being a balloonist an entire business model. Charging subscriptions for people to come see your launches, branding yourself as a rockstar personality (again, VIncenzo Lunardi would have women come up to him and tell him they had written his names on their garters) - there was also balloon merch. Fucking. Everywhere.
Balloon images were appearing on almanacs, on waistcoats, in bonnets, in sleeves and in hairstyles. Dishes were being named after balloonists as well as aerial concepts .
And if you were bored of buying physical things? Hey, you could sing one of the songs about balloons. Or read a poem about balloons (for all the goths out there Percy Shelley wrote at least one poem about balloons). Or why not pick up a book heavily featuring balloons as a plotpoint. Or go to the theatre! Where they will awkwardly incorporate balloons into their plays, just to draw in an audience. One play even marketed themselves as having a real inflated balloon on stage. Of course, this particular play was canceled on opening night due to it’s ‘offensive and dangerous nature’, turns out having an open fire burning consistently in a small, crowded room is a bad idea (especially if that fire was made according to the recipe of Montgolfier gas).
And of course… the riots.
The problem with the fact that if a balloon launch didn’t take off successfully, it would often-time instigate a riot is that I don’t have time to get into the details of all the many, many balloon launch riots. This will require an entire post onto itself, honestly. So sit tight - but the balloon riots were real, and not a one-off events.
And for what?
The funniest and silliest thing about balloons (and gods, there are so many to choose from) is the way they were actually pretty useless.
So much of Europe was daydreaming about how balloons would revolutionise travel, military and social life. Girls would be able to sneak out of their houses to MAKE OUT WITH BOYS. Boys would be able to sneak into girls houses to MAKE OUT WITH GIRLS. You would need to instate balloon police to catch all the robbers fleeing in their balloons! Balloons would make the basis of crafts taking scientists to the most remote corners of the earth, and armies would be able to flood cities over night.
Well, you might have noticed, this world was never one we got to live in. Most of all because balloons are so incredibly difficult to steer, even today.To the extent that when they first invented a balloon you could navigate with, they literally named it ‘balloon we can actually navigate with’ (dirigible balloon). How do you sneak out for your hot make out session with your boy if even just having the balloon take off isn’t a given, let alone directing its path?
So for a couple of very interesting years, the people of northern europe were gripped in the balloon frenzy, but what balloons really did was spark imagination. Human flight was possible! What on earth could be next?
Anyway, as a treat for making it all this way down, here's a drawing of Vincenzo Lunardi looking exactly like the kind of 18th century heartthrob that would make people write his name on their underwear
And here's a contemporary drawing aimed at him which is, yes, a dick joke
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Alain for the love hc meme
( love headcanon )
When they discover they’re got a crush:
He sort of just accepts it. Though he might not realize it is an actual crush at first versus a fleeting desire he tends to feel on occasion.
How they confess/hint:
Despite his joking demeanor, Alain would be pretty forward about his feelings once he has accepted it. A few hints might be thrown within a compliment or two but given his attitude it wouldn’t be a surprise if the person of interest doesn’t catch on right away.
Big gestures of love:
Romantic dinners in a private setting, leaving small bouquets on occasion or bringing it over. Allowing them to stay at his place for an entire day versus just the evening for one purpose only. Taking them on a trip to one of his favorite cities.
Little gestures of love:
Offering his jacket (this man isn’t the type to offer any article of clothing so something that doesn’t seem like a big deal is to him). Bringing their favorite meal over. Brushing their hair or reaching out to tuck a loose strand away from their face, even caressing their face is another gesture that most might not consider.
How to win their heart:
Hmm … probably being themselves. Alain isn’t all too picky in the sense of who he is physically attracted to but emotionally is an entirely different story. He likes someone with a sense of humor or at least enough to handle his antics. Someone who is unashamed to live as they do and thus will not impose their own morality on him. Honesty is a big factor for him as well.
How to break their heart:
Lying to him. Sure, there has been the occasional betrayal here and there but at least that piece was known to him from the get go. Did he take it as a joke? Absolutely. What he can’t stand is someone just flat out lying to him, expecting him to remain blinded from the truth and to be strung along in some ploy. Guess that bleeds into being used as a pawn as well.
Tiny little turn-ons:
Biting off the lower lip, teasing him back, running their fingers through his hair before grabbing him. Nails running down his back.
Big turn-ons:
Lingerie. Spicy text messages to get his imagination going. Trying to pin him down. Maybe even tantalizing pictures sent at the most inappropriate time (he’s a sucker for it).
Things that make their heart flutter:
Watching someone they adore push past a hurdle that might have weighed them down or when they allow themselves to share a vulnerable moment with him (this is such a rarity that when it happens, he will be entirely caught off guard).
Their type:
I think I mentioned it before but someone with a decent sense of humor or willing to handle his. Someone who can look after themselves, physically and mentally (he will still be there but he doesn’t want the weight of worrying 24/7 because of severe instability). A strong will who is not afraid of telling him the truth even if it might upset him. A person who can be entrusted with his most private thoughts without feeling the need to run and tell the world.
Ideal date:
Romantic evening dinner by the beach (he prefers areas with little crowds to avoid interruptions). Probably a little hot air balloon trip at sunset or just before sunrise to take in the scenery but more importantly, the hopeful awe of his partner.
Past relationships:
Nothing to really write home about considering that most of his ‘relationships’ have stuck to one night stands. He did have one somewhat serious connection with a former partner but didn’t work out due to differing perspectives and goals. The pair do keep in touch and there are residual feelings on his part but it’s an end he has accepted.
How they might affect current relationships:
He doesn’t have a current relationship at the moment so there’s no concern in that department unless his partner has an issue with his friendship with a former flame.
‘Goals’ in a relationship (marriage, kids, a house, etc):
Alain used to have a desire for marriage with his former partner but since then, this ‘goal’ has been put in the back burner. The idea of children has never occurred to him but he did consider a lovely little house in the mountains, preferably by a lake or a condo in the heart of a city (he’s either one of the two polar opposites) with his partner, but again this has been set aside. To be honest I don’t think he’s given it any more thought since the failure of his relationship.
Any other love headcanons:
Alain genuinely enjoys making breakfast for his significant other. Well, let me rephrase that: he enjoys the idea of making breakfast but will opt to ordering it instead (he’s somewhat decent of a cook but he has a ways to go).
|| @thewolfisawake ||
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counter point, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: You enrage your perfect boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, by being overtly sexual and inappropriately licking your kitchen counter. Why? Because you can and he's going to get horny regardless. He's going to chase after you with a spoon, so you better run!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; shower smut (fem reader, handjob, thigh riding, nipple play, marking / scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, one pussy slap); too much wasted water, RIP; non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; please help Jungkook, he's just trying to eat shaved ice, not pop a boner (he does anyway)
yes, the title is a pun
it's the best laid plans couple and they're crackheads
no need to read the first one, but it's there if you want more
--
“Don’t.”
You grinned at your boyfriend (Cheshire-cat-style, but make it sexy).
“Listen to me, do not do it.”
You extended you tongue (lizard-style, still sexy).
Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend currently making shaved ice, narrowed his dark brown eyes at you and barked your name sharply (angry-mother-scolding-their-child-style, but make it the hottest man on the fucking planet who you were down to get railed by every second of every day). His ash-blond hair flared out around his strong features, adding to his (horny) fury.
He could pretend to be mad, but you knew better.
You licked the kitchen counter.
“Fucking damnnit!”
You cackled as you licked the fallen syrup and ice combination that was on the kitchen counter, slurping up the fallen solider (a valiant fight, but Jungkook had missed the bowl by accident and he deserved an honorable death).
“I told you I was getting a towel!” Jungkook hissed furiously, shaking the white towel with the cute pink bunny character on it. “Don’t be a nasty heathen!”
“What’s nasty about our kitchen counters?” you countered (ey, yeah, see what happened there). “We clean them all the time.”
You leaned down again and licked the counter, pressing your tongue flat against the granite and making Jungkook growl, to which your responded with wiggling your eyebrows. He shook the towel at you again, but didn’t advance.
“Back, you fiend.”
You straightened and grinned, sauntering over to him and the towel he was using like a rosary and you were the demon he was trying to exorcise (he wasn’t pure enough to be a priest, but then again, that might be your fault).
“But I need the towel to clean up the mess,” you chirped, grinning cheerfully as you closed your hand around the cloth, holding it for a little too long, letting your eyes linger on his tense face, taking in his chiseled jaw, shapely lips, and flashing dark brown eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
You smiled.
Ran your tongue over your upper lip.
“Like what?”
Jungkook looked like he wanted to murder you and fuck you.
(Not at the same time; that would be some serial killer shit.)
“Stop fucking teasing me when you’re not gonna do anything,” he grumbled, pouting slightly as you snatched the towel from him and wiped the counter that you had already licked clean.
“Who, me?” you replied innocently, grabbing the sponge to clean off the granite before wiping the spot once more. “I would never, ever tease you, Jungkook.”
He narrowed his eyes at you until they were lines and jammed his spoon into his shaved ice. “You never wanna fuck right after I work out.”
“Speaking of working out.” You pointed to his large bowl of shaved ice covered in syrup. “Should you have sweets right after working out?”
He clicked his tongue. “I drank my protein shake and I’m hot. Leave me alone.” He shoved a large spoonful into his mouth, still glaring.
(Oh, you’re hot, all right.)
“What a coincidence.”
Jungkook’s eyes shifted in suspicion as you spun around him. “Do I wanna know what’s a coincidence…?”
“I’m also hot.”
And you grabbed the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt (it was his) and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in your underwear. You threw it at Jungkook’s crotch before prancing out of the kitchen.
“Alright, first of all–”
“Lachimolala,” you sang nonsensically, heading off to the bedroom. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”
Jungkook stomped after you, clutching his bowl and still shoving shaved ice in his mouth as he very loudly put in his two cents and pointedly ignored your comments (a skill he developed while dating you, mysterious why that would be).
“I know you’re hot, you’re insanely hot and that’s not fair, and, second, you can’t just take off your clothes and expect me not to follow you, and, three, let me fuck you, damnnit!”
You stuck your head out of the bedroom door and your tongue out of your mouth. “No. You stinky.”
Jungkook looked livid, still holding his spoon and bowl. “Don’t make me put this spoon down, woman.”
“Oh nooooooo, Jungkookie has a spoon, oh nooo!”
“Gimmie those titties! Get your ass over here right now!”
You ran to the bathroom and turned the water on, throwing off your underwear in record time, only for Jungkook to show up and get smacked in the face with your bra and panties (awesome, your aim was improving, all those hours playing FPS games was a sound investment).
Jungkook snarled and shook his head, blond hair flying everywhere, holding his bowl of shaved ice protectively as your underwear scattered around him. He looked ready to scold you, only to freeze and see you standing at the open glass shower door, fully naked.
Grinning.
(Checkmate, he totally wanted to bone you. His shorts were doing nothing to hide his massive tent.)
“See ya.”
And you slunk into the shower and hot water, snapping the door closed behind you, Jungkook fuming and crossing the space in two steps (damn, can you say legs, holy shit) and yanked open the shower door.
“You fucking brat–”
You smirked, water running down your body, tipping your head back to soak your hair, reaching up to slick it back with your tits up. His dark brown eyes ballooned to the size of Dragon Balls (those are pretty big balls, no cap). His shaved ice was rapidly melting from the steam.
A full ten seconds past.
(Kinda cold, bro, please close the door.)
You maintained your smirk, rolling your shoulders to cascade water down your body, down your breasts, dripping off your nipples, curling around the curve of your waist, streaming in rivets across the expanse of your thighs and ass, doing a little half-spin. Jungkook choked a little, eyes completely fixated to your body. You (completely unnecessarily, of course) placed a hand in between your breasts, splaying out your fingers, gliding it down your stomach, making a detour for your hip, sinking your nails into it (his bowl was tipping very dangerously now and the ice was half-gone), curving back to the inside of your thigh and squeezing your thighs around your hand.
(Okay, for real, you can close the door now, Jungkook.)
“Your shaved ice is melting.”
Jungkook started, picking up his jaw off the floor, and whipped his head to his bowl of now sweet ice water. He closed the shower door (finally!) and you breathed out a sigh of relief, finally wiggling under the showerhead to wash away the goosebumps and your frozen tits (you suffered for a good cause, but still), hearing your boyfriend straight-up slurp the rest of his shaved ice (it was practically a drink by now anyway). You pumped some shampoo in your hand and casually started working it into your hair before half-screaming as the door opened again and a very naked, very horny Jungkook invaded your personal space and pinned you against the shower wall.
(You weren’t expecting his speedrun of stripping, that must have been a fucking record!)
You blinked rapidly, trying to swipe the water out of your eyes.
“Jung–”
You didn’t expect to get anything out but you said one syllable before his lips crashed onto yours, spraying water everywhere as he half-entered the raining showerhead (still a bit stinky, tsk tsk), pressing his body against yours, jabbing you with his rock-hard dick (rude). You yelped in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care (probably thought you deserved it, rude), taking your tongue and sucking on it, making you moan, driving his thigh in between yours and pushing it up, water suddenly gushing onto your heat and then hard muscle, you gasping at the contact, tipping your head back with a soft whimper.
Opening your eyes to a slight sting and Jungkook’s half-wet hair, dark silvery-blond curls around his smirking face, cocking an eyebrow at you.
“Not so high and mighty now, hm?”
(Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.)
Your eye began to sting very badly.
(Shit.)
“There’s shampoo in my eye,” you choked out.
“Oh shi–”
There was a brief intermission of water torture as Jungkook shoved your head under the showerhead and you did the awkward dance of one eye half-open, half-closed, rinsing out the soap residue while holding your breath and trying not to drown (beauty, grace, and blindness, the trifecta, right?). You yanked your head out with a gleeful sucking in of air, pushing your hair away from your forehead.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked worriedly.
“Why is no-tears shampoo only for babies?” you complained, wiping your eyes. “Don’t they know horny adults get accosted in the middle of showering sometimes and need that shit? They need to put a warning or I’ll sue.”
He laughed, rich, full, and wonderfully sexy. “I don’t think you’d – ah!”
The second Jungkook let his guard down, you grabbed his dick (sucker), and started pumping him with a flick of your wrist, grinning wildly. He gasped and tried to back up, but you pinned his thigh in between yours and rubbed your slick pussy on his muscle, causing him to sway slightly and plant his hands on the wall beside your head, gasping your name.
“O-oh, fuck…”
You used your other hand to grab his chin and pull him closer, kissing him hungrily, a slightly awkward angle but it didn’t matter because you had him in the palm of your hand now (literally), jacking him off with one and the other stroking his jaw, shuddering at his tongue flitting in your mouth, snaking your own out to meet his, fuck, such soft lips, and he still tasted a little sweet from his icy snack lingering on his tongue. Your hand slid back and cupped his head, fingers in his wet ash-blond hair, rolling your hips on his leg and pumping his swelling length in the other, getting him extra hard again, both of you moaning at the lovely pop of the head being squeezed by your thumb and index, before going right back to furiously kissing as you increased the speed and pressure.
Jungkook always complained about how you never worked out with him, but you always rebutted that said workouts never started because you two were too busy eating face.
(Also, why work out when you can fuck? More fun, more pleasure, less hating yourself as you complete the thirtieth sit-up. Clearly, your boyfriend failed to see the logic.)
“Jungkook, ah…”
One of his strong hands around your waist, arching your back, kissing down your neck, matching your pace with his hips, moaning into your skin, raising his leg even higher as he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Now the angle was really awkward, but you refused to give up, readjusting slightly, faster, harder, his mouth all over you, sucking hard, whimpering your name, your arm burning (and he wondered why you had biceps, sheesh), and you clamped his thigh in between yours, the real pleasure being how Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, your name tumbling from his lips, so sexy with his dripping blond locks stuck to his cheeks, tendons standing out on his neck with the strain, thrusting into your hand to increase the pleasure and your arm was going to give out any second now but you just couldn’t, not yet.
“So fucking sexy,” you panted, your free hand tracing his jaw, shoving your thumb into his open lips, sinking your nails into his cheek because he was yours, all yours, and he didn’t care if you marked him up, his eyes rolling back, loving your roughness, wanting it. “Cum for me, come on, Jungkook,” you growled, even faster, even harder, thumb pressed into his lolling tongue and he whined, deep and feral, a mixed gargle of your name and pure ecstasy, cock jerking in your hand, spilling out over your thigh and the shower wall, hot sticky strings before being washed away, you dragging his face to yours, removing your thumb to kiss him again, sighing in relief now that you could slow, squeezing his twitching cock, feeling it drip down your fingers and smearing it all over his now-sensitive skin.
“So good, fuck, you’re so good…”
His hands all over your back, running his nails up and down, ravenous, messy kisses. Your hand stilled, arm burning, but somehow it didn’t matter, adrenaline and lust too much, and you wanted to hold him too, snaking your arms around his waist and digging your nails into his broad back, both of you moaning in unison as your ran lines of pleasure across each other’s backs, hips to hips, wet bodies rolling into each other, your drenched pussy on his hard thigh and his spent cock against your soft thigh.
“My arm almost died,” you gasped, his nails raking down to your hips, sinking into your ass.
“Heh, sorry,” Jungkook snickered (you suspected he wasn’t very sorry). “That’s what you get for teasing me.” (And you were right, hmph.) “This is why you should work out.” (This guy…)
You raised an eyebrow. “So I can make you cum in literal seconds? Your funeral.”
He paused, shifting his eyes. He seemed to be mentally struggling with the idea. “You look so fucking hot in workout clothes though,” he pouted, leaning down to press his chin against your breasts.
Uh oh, Jungkook was giving you puppy eyes now.
“I can wear workout clothes without actually working out,” you frowned. “And you never let me work out anyway because you’re too busy ogling me, and then you jump me mid-squat.”
He groaned, kneading your ass in his hands. “Your ass just looks so fucking good in leggings though… and the way your tits bounce, fuck…”
(Hello, Jungkook? You could, maybe, just look at the naked wet body in front of you right now instead of fantasizing about working out. What is your malfunction?)
You yelped as he buried his face into your tits, tongue snaking out and drawing thick, saliva-covered stripes over your breasts that were quickly washed away, whimpers in your throat once you saw the hungry look in his eyes, his pink tongue now circling your nipple, lowering his leg from between yours, your hands flying up to hold his head onto your chest.
“Ah, Jungkook, please…”
His lips closed in and his fingers grazed your slick slit, pressing circles of pleasure into you, leaning your head against the shower wall, back arched to give more to that perfect mouth, moaning his name, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing it slowly, working you up, sucking your nipple and flicking it with his tongue, waves of pleasure and hot water enveloping you, pushing his wet hair back to look into those dark chocolate orbs, clouded by lust and his desire to make you feel good, already knowing that when you rocked your hips you wanted more, already knowing that when your noises became shallower, more needy, that you needed it harder, closing your eyes, faster, hot and warm from Jungkook and water.
“Yes, fuck, yes, so close, so good, Jungkook, ah, Jungkook!”
You felt the flinch of overwhelming ecstasy, immediately trying to close your legs but he blocked you, planting his thigh between yours to prevent them, your moan turning into a feverish whimper, clutching his shoulders.
“J-Jungkook, w-wait, oh, f-fuck…”
He wasn’t waiting, still stimulating your now throbbing clit, lifting his head to press his lips to yours, whispering hotly, you’re so sexy, so beautiful, I love you to so much, fuck, your brain barely computing language, w-what, oh fuck, yes, don’t stop, Jungkook, I love you, fuck, so good, his soft smile on your open lips as your moaned once more, ramming your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back, pleasure shooting up from your core, and Jungkook’s fingers plunged into your wetness, moaning with you, stuffing you with three because you were so, so wet.
“Fuck my hand, come on, wanna feel you…”
You heard hand (seriously? alright, your funeral, Jungkook), and enclosed your fingers around his now hard-again cock.
“Wait, w-what – ah, fuuuuuuuck…”
Your misinterpretation seemed to be a welcome development, your hips moving on their own, pussy clenching around his fingers, your hand a vice around his hard, swollen length, his hips thrusting into your closed fist, and now both of you just chasing pleasure, wet, loud, and hot, the water adding to the noise, skin on skin, your pussy making embarrassing sucking, squishing sounds paired with the rapid slap of your vicious pumping of his cock, feeling so good it was hard to speak, but it didn’t matter because your lips found his lips, and you could tell by his trembling inhale and soft whimpers that he loved you, and he could tell from your breathless gasps and desperate whines that you loved him, and all that made it more intense, better, sexier, perfect.
Your name in that silvery, needy tone, followed by, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
His name, followed by, “Shit, me too, fuck!”
(Maybe not your best work, oh well.)
You slapped your hips into his hand, burying his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and groaned, scorching ecstasy overtaking your veins, sparking up your spine and into your head, squeezing your thighs together powerfully, clamping his wrist in your softness. His cock jerked, his gasp in your face as he spilled again, all over your hip and thigh, jamming the throbbing head into your skin and moaning as his orgasm continued spurting out, pulsing, his moan turning into helpless cries as you rubbed the tip on your skin, smearing his cum onto you, his scent so strong you could still smell it despite the water washing it away, loving the way his hard, muscular body felt against you, shivering and vibrating with pleasure, unable to help himself, practically humping your leg to prolong the sensitivity.
Heavy, shuddering breaths.
Water tumbling down, somehow far too hot even though it was getting lukewarm.
(Rest in peace the water bill.)
“Uh… my hand…”
You tensed around it. “I like it here.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’m getting a hand cramp.”
You bit your lip and clenched your core muscles, making him gasp.
“Fuck, I love how tight your pussy can get. Feels like you’re going to break my fingers.”
You relaxed, laughing. “That’d be a fun trip to the emergency room.”
He snickered and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I love you.”
You relaxed your thighs and he pulled his fingers out. “I love you too, Jungkook.”
You squeezed the head of his dick mid-kiss and he slapped your pussy in response, making you gasp.
“Brat.”
(Hello, you two, you’re wasting water… aw, shit, here we go again.)
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2021.09.01 - birthday drabble
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in which jjk attempts to direct porn and you proceed to clown him until he shuts you up by fucking your brains out
well dressed
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Heat
It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.
I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.
“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.
“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.
His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths.
He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.
But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.
The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.
“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”
“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.
“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”
“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”
After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.
You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...
Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.
“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.
“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”
I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”
“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.
“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.
“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”
Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”
“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”
My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”
“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.
“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”
“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”
I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.
“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”
“What?”
“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”
Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.
“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.
“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”
I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”
Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”
“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”
“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”
I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.
“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.
I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.
Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.
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Pink Lace - Chapter 9 (M)
Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)
Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn
Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.
Word count: 6.1k
Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut
Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh
Masterlist
Saturday had finally arrived. It was 6am when you woke up, but you were far too excited to go back to sleep. You tossed and turned for a little while, trying to convince your body to give you a few more minutes of rest just so you wouldn’t get tired early but it was no use. The last time you’d felt like this was when you were a kid and there was a big class field trip coming up, or on Christmas morning. That sense of child-like excitement was something you didn’t even realize you’d missed so much. As an adult waking up in the mornings was almost always shitty, but today you were so excited the idea of sleep didn’t even sound appealing anymore. God. Maybe you were just as whipped as him.
After giving in to your excitement you got up, and started making breakfast. You were worried that you’d be tired or groggy on the date so you made sure to add an extra shot of espresso to your morning latte. Falling asleep hadn’t been easy either. You kept thinking about all the different possibilities of where he might take you, and you had been especially distracted by Baekhyun’s promise of what would come after.
You had put a great deal of effort into looking nice for the club last week, but this week you didn’t even know where to start. Getting ready for a real date was very different than getting ready for the club. At the club you could cover yourself in glitter and body oil and do the most extra makeup looks one could imagine, and there wasn’t much to the outfits anyway. But what the hell were you supposed to do for a date where all you knew was that it was outside? You wanted to put in effort still, of course, but doing too much might be weird if it’s more of a casual thing. But Baekhyun wouldn’t just do something casual right? It would be something fancy for sure. But then what were you supposed to wear that was relatively fancy but worked for being outdoors?
You still wanted to be able to be comfortable so after some time and careful deliberation, you decided on a sundress and simple makeup. The sundress also had the advantage of allowing you to forego wearing a bra, and it was remarkably easy to remove. You had a feeling Baekhyun would appreciate that later on.
As the morning went on you tried your best to keep your mind occupied and prolong the process of getting ready in order to leave as little time as possible to get anxious, you knew as soon as you would get bored the nervousness would start. So you kept yourself busy.
3:00pm drew closer and closer and despite your best efforts you felt yourself becoming restless. You internally cursed Mia for being busy all day so she wouldn’t be there to help you not freak out.
Unfortunately you were ready by 2:00, leaving you an entire hour to mull over your thoughts as they made you more and more antsy.
After an hour of pacing around the house and checking your hair and makeup way too many times, you finally heard a knock on the door. You basically sprinted across the house at the sound.
To your relief Baekhyun wasn’t dressed very fancy, just a white short sleeved button down tucked into black shorts. But oh did the sight of him still make your heart flutter. His hair was perfectly styled and he just looked so good.
“Hi, you look beautiful,” He said as his eyes traveled up and down your body. “You ready to go?” You responded with a nod and threw your arms around him for a hug, which he happily returned. “Come on then.”
As you approached his Audi he opened the door for you to get in, and it somehow looked even fancier than you had remembered, although you had been slightly drunk when you’d last been in his car.
You stayed quiet, and Baekhyun put on some music as he pulled out and started driving. After a few minutes you heard him softly singing along, and you wondered why he didn’t tell you sooner that he could sing so well.
“You have a really nice voice.” You spoke softly, and he turned to look at you briefly.
“You think so? I was in a band in high school, and I think I was pretty good but I never kept up with it, although I do still like singing.”
“You should do it more if you like it, or you can at least sing to me anytime.”
He shot you a smile and continued singing along to the music, but now with more confidence.
Everything about him just seemed to get more and more perfect. No man had ever impressed you this much, had made you feel this lucky and special. It made you even more scared that you would do or say something that would mess everything up.
“Nervous?” He asked, noticing how quiet you were being.
“Yeah, I just, I don’t know. I don’t wanna make things weird and mess everything up.”
He placed a hand on your thigh, and once the car was stopped at a light his eyes met yours. “Don’t be, I promise there’s nothing you can do that will make today any less magical, the fact that I’m getting to take you out at all is enough for me.”
The warmth in the way he looked at you then helped melt away some of your worries. He was right of course, you knew he liked you too much for you to really be able to mess this up, but the mystery of where he was taking you made you worry nonetheless.
For about another 30 minutes Baekhyun drove the two of you further and further out of the city, until eventually he parked at the bottom of a large hill, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
‘Um, Baekhyun, where are we? You’re not about to murder me are you?”
“No” he chucked, “definitely not, just follow me.”
He took your hand and started walking you up the hill until you were about halfway up and you could almost see to the other side.
“I need you to close your eyes.”
You did as you were told, and he kept guiding you by your hand as you blindly followed. Your heart rate had gone up significantly, still not having any clue what he had in store for you. Especially now that you were out here seemingly with nothing and nobody else around.
A few shaky steps later he told you to open your eyes, and with your heartbeat loudly thumping in your ears, you finally did.
What you saw had not been what you were expecting at all, though you hadn’t had a clue what to expect in the first place.
On the other side of the hill was an enormous balloon that was slowly being inflated.
He was taking you on a hot air balloon.
You could feel his eyes on you, waiting for some sort of reaction, but all you could do was stare in awe at the giant colorful mass in front of you. In your mind you started to think about how the hell he even pulled this off, how he even had the resources for something so extra, and for a first date. The longer you looked the more you felt the guilt start to set in. He had probably spent a ridiculous amount of time and money setting this up, and you had pestered him about the secret like some ungrateful child. Eventually the whole situation had tears brimming in your eyes from pure disbelief.
Baekhyun quickly took notice and pulled you forwards to face him.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like it? We can leave and do something else if-”
You grabbed his face and cut him off with a kiss, as you felt a tear escape.
“You’re fucking insane. I can’t believe this is what you were planning, how the hell did you even get a hot air balloon?” You said as you wiped away another tear, but the smile that had made its way onto your face let Baekhyun let out a sigh of relief.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, really. Jongdae, I don’t know if you remember him from the club, but he’s got all kinds of connections and he did this for him and his wife last year so I got him to help me out.”
You still just shook your head in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” he grinned, “now come on.”
He grabbed your hand again and started pulling you towards the balloon again, which was now almost upright. As you got closer you noticed the picnic set and bottle of champagne that were sitting on a small table in the center of the basket, with a bench on either side for each of you to sit on.
The man who was operating the balloon gave the two of you a quick safety briefing before you stepped into the basket and he closed the small door behind you.
After a few moments you felt yourself lift off, and slowly the balloon lifted the two of you up towards the clouds.
“Um, Baekhyun?”
“Yes sweetheart?”
“What if I’m afraid of heights.”
“I’m right here,” He grabbed your hand between his own, “You know I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ve also been told it’s not so bad as long as you don’t look down.”
Luckily when you were seated you could only see the view off in the distance, so it wasn’t too frightening. As the balloon ascended further and further you started to realize how beautiful it was. The scenery from this angle was breathtaking and this high up in the sky there was a pleasant cool breeze as well.
You were torn out of your train of thought when you saw Baekhyun grab the bottle of champagne along with two glasses. He popped the cork out, which went flying out of the confines of the basket, plummeting down to earth.
“Oops.”
You giggled and he poured both of you a glass before reaching for the picnic basket. He pulled out two black boxes, and he opened yours and set it down in front of you revealing one of the most beautiful arrangements of sushi you’d ever seen.
“God you are unreal.” You breathed out as you examined the meal in front of you more closely.
“You like it?”
“Yes, of course, I love it. I love all this, I- I don’t even know what to say. Nobody’s ever done something like this for me before.”
“As long as you’re enjoying yourself.” He grinned back at you. "I wanted to do something that was different, something that you would hopefully be able to look back at later as a nice memory for us to share together. I know this technically is our first date but we’ve known each other a while so it really didn’t feel that way to me.”
The way he treated you, spoke to you, touched you, still seemed too good to be true. The question used to plague you, but now you wanted to know more out of the selfish need for validation more than anything else.
“Baekhyun, why do you like me so much? You’re around pretty girls all the time, why me?”
He let out a small breathy laugh, took a drink of his champagne and met your gaze. “You make me feel like a kid again.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I first saw you that night at your work, I remember thinking you were so sexy, so beautiful, so way out of my league, talking to you made me feel like a silly teenager with a crush on a girl who wouldn’t show him the light of day anyway. I hadn’t felt like that in almost a decade, but just in that one night you made me feel it again. That’s why I knew I had to come back, too. The more I talked to you the more I felt we actually had a connection too, although I didn’t think it was really real, I thought you were just good at talking to me, but it made me feel so good I didn’t really care. I never thought you’d end up actually liking me this much. Two weeks ago at the club when you were drunk and started to get more touchy with me I thought I was going insane, I couldn’t believe that you might actually be attracted to me like that. I’m 30 now and I spent basically all of my 20′s trying to please other people and make those around me happy, even if it meant I had to settle. I would let coworkers or my family set me up with people who seemed, I don’t know, proper. But it was never fun or exciting, always just one boring dinner date after the next, with people I felt nothing for. I regret it a lot now, but I’m so thankful I got to meet you, cause I feel like now thanks to you I can finally experience those parts of my youth that I missed out on.”
You were speechless. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to find some words that would live up to what he had said, to properly express what you were feeling, but they just didn’t exist. He stared at you as you stared back, desperately trying to get something to come out of your mouth but it felt impossible.
“Sorry, I know that was a lot at once, but I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.”
His words had you flustered and cheeks tinted pink. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time too. Maybe ever.”
Baekhyun felt like his heart was about to burst. “When did you realize you liked me as more than just a customer?”
You had thought about this a lot, trying to decipher when in your own mind you had come to the realization, because you had fought it so vehemently.
“When I let you touch me. I never allowed anyone to do that before you, and I wouldn’t admit it to myself until later but it was that night.”
“Why were you scared to admit it to yourself?”
“I think I was still worried about letting you into my life, since I never do that with people from work. I don’t even hang out with the other girls there, I want to keep that part of my life separate. And once you were my professor I was even more scared because I knew in the back of my mind that I did like you but now there was even more to worry about because I didn’t want to get you in trouble. That still worries me a lot.”
“You don’t need to worry about that, I know what I’m getting myself into and I know the risks. I wouldn’t be serious about this if I wasn’t willing to take that risk. But I think things will end up fine. As long as nobody finds out while you’re my student, nothing can happen. We just have to be a bit careful. That’s actually another reason I chose this for the date, I didn’t want to risk somebody seeing us, as much as I would love to be able to show you off.”
“This is perfect, really. I can’t think of anything more magical.” You said as you took a bite of your sushi and looked around at the view surrounding you. “I’m definitely going to remember this for a long time.”
The date went on and the two of you laughed together while enjoying the view, the food, and the champagne. It really was magical, you felt like you were in your own little fairytale world up in the sky with him, you were convinced nothing could beat this feeling. The way Baekhyun spoke to you always made you feel so comfortable and he could make you laugh so easily. Whenever the two of you were together, things just felt right.
Eventually you finished your meals, and it was time to make your way back down to earth. As you watched the slow descent you started to think about what was coming next. The thoughts had plagued you the night before as well. You were getting closer and closer to Baekhyun finally having you, and now it was almost time.
You worried that you might disappoint him. Men tended to think that strippers were always the most wild, the most experienced in bed, but you were still quite shy and inexperienced. At your job you could easily fake confidence to strangers, but actually having sex with someone you cared for wasn’t something you’d done often. The thought made your palms sweat in anticipation as you and Baekhyun finally landed and got back to his car.
“Where do you want me to take you?” He was making sure you still wanted this, still wanted him.
“Take me home with you.”
He only nodded, and pulled out to get the both of you on your way.
The car ride back was silent. You could feel the tension hanging thick in the air, both of you had your minds on what was coming next. He placed his hand back on your thigh, but this time higher up, slightly pushing up the fabric of your sundress. The action alone was enough to make your breath uneven, and with the deafening silence surrounding you, you knew he noticed.
By the time he was pulling up to his place, your heart was hammering in your chest and you felt warm all over.
He stepped out of the car and came to your door to open it for you. When he extended a hand for you to hold as you stepped out your eyes met his. The look on his face was blank; completely unreadable. You wondered if he was feeling just as anxious as you, if he was just hiding it better. You knew with the way you looked up at him in that moment that he could see right through you, that he could see all the tension and desire that had been building within you clearly on your face.
Your thoughts were confirmed when a small smirk formed on his lips and he was soon pulling you through the entry way and into his home.
His house was beautiful. It wasn’t anything extremely flashy, though it felt comfortable and so much like him. The walls were lined with bookshelves, he had a large leather couch in his living room along with a marble coffee table, and everything was perfectly clean and well kept. It felt elegant and high-class but not in a way that was intimidating, it felt homely.
As lovely as it was, you were far more focused on the man occupying it now. Once you’d had a chance to take off your shoes and look around for a bit you felt Baekhyun’s hand on yours once again as he pulled you into his chest. He gazed down at you and you could see it in his eyes this time. Both of you had been waiting for this moment, him even longer than you. You saw the want, the lust, and you felt it as well. When you felt his lips finally press against your own, you knew there was no going back.
The kiss started slow, but you could tell he was holding back. His hands shook slightly as they made contact with your waist to pull you against him tighter, and you felt how his heart was racing when you placed a hand onto his chest. It was you who deepened the kiss, letting it become more and more lust driven as the both of you let yourselves give in to the feeling. His hands started to wander across your body. First they went down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before traveling upwards to grope your chest.
“Fuck, are you not wearing a bra?” He breathed out between kisses as he felt a nipple harden under his touch.
“Undress me and find out.”
Baekhyun didn’t respond, instead you felt his hands on the backs of your thighs, prompting you to jump, so you did, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.
You were surprised how easily he lifted you up and carried you into his bedroom. The whole time you clung on to him, leaving kisses on his neck as he walked you through the house.
When you entered his bedroom he sat down on the edge of his bed with you on his lap and continued to kiss you, now moving his way down to your neck. The marks he had left on you before had faded through time, and he missed the sight of them. Something about seeing marks on you, knowing he was the one who left them there, drove him crazy. Although he wasn’t able to go show you off publicly, he was still able to claim you as his own that way. His self control was quickly leaving him as he once again started to suck and bite at the smooth skin, leaving splotches of purple in his wake.
He pulled away and lifted you off his lap making you whine at first, but once you were standing before him between his parted legs his hands found the hem of your dress, and your heart rate picked up even more. He lifted the fabric slowly, and you allowed him to pull it all the way over your head before being discarded on his bedroom floor, leaving you standing in nothing but your lacy underwear.
Despite the fact that Baekhyun had seen you like this more times than you could count, you felt the need to cover yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. This felt so different from the club. Being naked there just felt natural, normal to you, it was the whole point of your job, and you didn’t care what the men there thought of you. But here and now, with nobody but you and Baekhyun and his eyes running up and down your body intently, you were shaking.
When he noticed you try and cover yourself, he quickly grabbed your arm and moved it aside. “Am I making you nervous? You don’t have to be so tense, you know how beautiful I think you are.” You felt your cheeks start to tingle as he grabbed you and laid you on his bed before instructing you to lay on your stomach. “Let me help you relax.”
His expert hands started to work the muscles in your back, and you realized he was right, you had been extremely tense. After a few seconds you let your eyes flutter closed and melted into the feeling of his hands massaging you. Your breathing and heart rate slowed down and you were overwhelmed with bliss as your muscles relaxed under his touches. Your arousal combined with the feeling made you feel high, and you couldn’t help but let out soft moans whenever he would work on a particularly stiff area.
Baekhyun felt like he was going insane. Your skin felt so soft and smooth beneath his palms as he caressed you, and the sounds you let out made him twitch beneath his shorts. You looked exquisite like this, bare aside from the barely-there lace thong and your backside on full display. He leaned down to kiss your neck, leaving you shuddering at the sensation of his breath on your ear. “Can I touch you?” he whispered, and all you could do was nod, your mind too foggy with lust to form real words.
His hand made its way down to your ass, touching you so close to where you wanted him, but not quite. “Let me hear you.”
You took a deep breath, and forced out the words, “Yes, Baekhyun, please.”
You felt him smile against the skin of your neck as he kept showering it with kisses, and his hand finally moved between your legs to where you needed him most. He made you gasp as he slowly began rubbing your clit through the thin lace of your underwear. “Turn around for me princess.”
Once you were facing him, and your eyes met, your arousal was amplified even further. He was laying on top of you now between your spread legs, and you felt annoyed at how much he was still wearing.
The first thing to go was his shirt, as you impatiently fumbled with the buttons before pulling it off of him completely. You knew that he was in pretty good shape but you still weren’t prepared when you finally saw him bare, and you knew that he saw how you stared by the pleased smirk on his face.
Next he moved off of you to remove his pants, leaving him in only his briefs. He soon moved back over you and resumed the motions of his hands between your legs, making you whine. He pulled you into a kiss so heart shattering you could feel yourself shaking with desire as he continued his ministrations. He was smothering you, pressed against you completely but you still wrapped your arms around his back in an effort to bring him even closer.
His kisses started to make their way down your jaw and towards your neck, and then slowly to your chest. He took one sensitive bud between his lips and your back arched off his mattress and your hands found his soft hair. He used his fingers to tease the other side as well, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his hair and the soft sounds falling from your lips.
As much as Baekhyun had been looking forward to this, he still wanted to hear you beg for him, even if that meant having to be patient. Luckily, however, you were just as impatient as he was.
“I n-need more, please.” You gasped, the sensation of his hand on your pussy and his lips on your breasts edging you on without giving you the relief you craved.
“Say it again for me.”
“Baekhyun, please.”
“Mmmh,” he smiled down at you, “good girl.”
His kisses moved down to your ribcage and stomach, leaving marks on the way until he was hooking his fingers into the waistband or your underwear and dragging them down your legs. He soon positioned himself between your thighs, and you felt hyper aware of his eyes on the last part of you he’d had yet to see.
Instead of giving you what you wanted, Baekhyun started to kiss your inner thighs, leaving marks there as well, slowly creeping closer and closer to your waiting pussy. The feeling of him sucking and biting on the skin so close to where you wanted him was maddening. You let out another impatient whine, and finally, you felt his lips press against your clit. He was still taking his time, leaving soft kisses at first, but eventually he let his tongue lick a stripe all the way up your folds, making you shudder. You knew you wouldn’t last long with how tightly wound up you already were. When he started to quicken his motions, licking and sucking at your most sensitive spot, you started to crumble. Your hands abandoned his hair, instead opting to grab at the pillow behind you, out of fear that you might yank his hair out otherwise. A lewd moan slipped out from between your lips as your back arched and you started to move your hips against his face, prompting him to push you down to keep you in place. The feeling was overwhelming your senses and the only thoughts left in your mind were of his lips and tongue on you as you chased your high.
When you felt one of his slender fingers enter you, you knew you were gone. Only a few pumps later you felt the damn break and you moaned his name unabashedly and the pleasure flooded your body. Your vision went white and you felt yourself twitch against him as he kept licking and kissing you through your climax. Eventually he pulled away, and you went limp, closing your eyes and relaxing into the post-orgasmic haze.
“Don’t fall asleep sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet.”
A few moments later he was on top of you again, kissing you, only this time you could feel his hard member against you separated only by the fabric of his briefs. You reached down to try to pull the fabric away, but he stopped you before you could have any success. “So impatient.” He whispered before taking your hands and lacing them between his own and pinning them to the bed on either side of you as he continued to cover your face and neck with deep heated kisses.
You couldn’t stop whining and squirming beneath him, trying to get some sort of relief, but Baekhyun wouldn’t do anything until you asked for it. “What do you want baby?” He breathed in your ear and placed more kisses on the sensitive spot on the side of your neck, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine.
“I-I want you.”
“You want me to what?”
“I want you to fuck me, p-please.”
Baekhyun ginned and leaned back to admire you, relishing the way you were panting for him, chest heaving up and down, cheeks flushed. “So beautiful.”
He got up to remove his last remaining piece of clothing before finding his way back between your spread legs. One hand moved downwards and you felt two fingers enter you, testing your readiness. You moaned out at the intrusion, but just as quickly as they entered you his fingers left you as well. “So wet for me.” You heard him mutter.
When you finally felt his tip press against your folds you threw your head back and wrapped your legs around his waist in an effort to pull him further into you, but to no avail.
“Y/n, look at me.” He said as one of his hands cupped your face and you opened your eyes, immediately meeting his. “You ready?”
You nodded frantically and felt him position himself. The anticipation was killing you, but finally he brought his face down to yours to press a kiss to your lips as he sunk himself into you. He was larger than you had expected, making you gasp against his lips as he stretched you out. Once his length was fully inside you he waited for a moment to let you adjust, despite the urge to just let go and fuck you senseless. You opened your eyes and saw his squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he held himself back. Baekhyun had wanted this for so long, had waited for months and now that he finally had you underneath and around him, it felt too good to be true.
When he felt your hips shift to take him even deeper, he took it as a sign to start moving. He pulled out almost completely before sinking himself back into you, starting a slow and steady pace that had you whimpering and clutching at his shoulders, trying to bring him impossibly closer.
He continued to kiss you as he slowly fucked you, and you couldn’t help but think how sweet and romantic it still felt. As cheesy as it sounds, he wasn’t just fucking you, you felt like he was truly making love to you. You let your body melt into his movements, rolling your body up against his to push him even deeper inside of you with every thrust.
His lips traveled from yours down to your ear, “So, so, perfect, such a good girl for me.”
His words sent shockwaves down your spine and through your limbs, exciting you even further as you lost yourself to his expert thrusts. Your mind was blank, unable to form any coherent thoughts aside from how good he was making you feel. Every time he sank back into you you could feel him hit that special spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes curling.
You were enjoying his slow, calculated, movements, but the knot in the pit of your stomach was building and you knew you’d need more to be pushed over the edge.
“F-faster.” You breathed out in desperation.
Instead of giving you what you wanted Baekhyun stopped his movements completely, leaning up to look you in the eyes. “What was that sweetheart?”
“Faster, Baekhyun please.”
He smirked at your plea, “Since you asked so nicely.”
He resumed his motions, this time picking up the pace while one hand moved to knead and pinch at the sensitive skin of your breasts.
Your legs had wrapped themselves tightly around his waist and your hands were gripping onto his back so tightly it would probably leave marks. The sensation was completely overwhelming, and you were reduced to a whining, moaning mess beneath him as you felt your high getting close again. With him drilling in and out of you at a faster pace, and the ministrations of his hands on your chest, you knew the pressure would soon snap.
“Are you gonna cum for me baby?” He could tell by how tightly you were clenching around him, you were close.
All you could do was nod and let out a series of lewd noises, and the hand on your chest moved down to your clit. “Let go, let me feel you.”
A few seconds later you felt the pressure release, waves of euphoria flooding your body sending jolts of electricity through your limbs, making you twitch uncontrollably as he kept thrusting into you. You clamped down on him so tightly you heard him let out a pained grunt as he chased his high as well, losing control as his movements got less consistent.
“Fuck, no condom.”
You felt him start to pull out but locked your legs around him before he could do so, “I’m on the pill, please don’t stop.”
He let out a guttural moan and a few thrusts later he was emptying himself inside you, pressing his lips to yours once again, this time with so much force you felt yourself being pushed further into the mattress.
Once you had both come down from your highs he all but collapsed on top of you, and you unhooked your legs from his waist. Your arms stayed wrapped around him and the both of you laid there, sweating and panting against one another as you slowly came back to reality.
“Worth the wait?” He asked breathily.
“Fuck yes.”
He laughed, and you felt his chest vibrating on top of you. “Glad to hear it. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shook your head before cupping his face and bringing it down to yours for a kiss. “It was perfect.”
He smiled back at you with that smile that felt like it could single handedly melt every glacier on earth and then some. Despite the fact that his weight was starting to make it difficult for you to breathe, you still whined when he pushed off the bed and slipped out of you to get the both of you cleaned up. He disappeared into the master bathroom, eventually returning with a wet washcloth to rid you of the sticky mess between your thighs.
Neither of you bothered putting any clothes on when he returned to bed and pulled you close, resting your head on his chest as the rest of your limbs tangled together under the sheets.
You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his eyes, “Can I stay the night?”
“Of course baby, get some rest.” He said and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You laid your head back down, closing your eyes.
You hummed at the feeling of his hands drawing circles on your bare back, and you dozed off to the sweet feeling and the steady sound of his heartbeat in your ear.
With Baekhyun, you felt like you had found your own little slice of heaven. This was the definition of bliss.
A/N: this is my first time writing smut so please be gentle with me, I tried my best 🤧
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#baekhyun#exo#baekhyun fic#exo fic#fanfic#fluff#baekhyun smut#baekhyun fluff#exo smut#exo fluff#baekhyun fanfic#smut
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𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕜𝕪𝕦𝕦 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟.
ft. Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Kuroo Tetsurou, Oikawa Tooru, Ojiro Aran, Akaashi Keiji, Sakusa Kiyoomi & Suna Rintarou.
❥ Miya Atsumu - The Maldives! Sunshine boy takes you on a sunny trip, a little cliché but so worth it. Crystal clear waters, a private bungalow over the water, just you and him in your own little world? Perfection. He’s going to be all over you most of the time, and are you complaining? Absolutely not. You two do make them for other activities though, I see Atsumu as a super active person so definitely snorkeling, surfing and sailing are on the list. Then wind down with lazing around in a hammock in the middle of the ocean, couples massages at the underwater spa, candle lit dinners on the beach, chilling in the private infinity pool in your bungalow, and just fully enjoying your time with each other. Your honeymoon is the definition of fun and relaxation, and resident exhibitionist Atsumu somehow convinced you to shower naked with him in the private outdoor shower of your bungalow... you’re starting to see the appeal now ;)
❥ Miya Osamu - Taiwan. One word...FOOD. Taiwan’s got an amazing array of food that Osamu would love to try with you, from street food to fine dining. With some of the best night markets in the region (and you know Asia’s got the good night markets), you’ll be full and satiated...in more ways than one ;) Of course it’s your honeymoon so you’re gonna be staying at a hotel with a view of Taipei 101. He takes you on a day trip to Kaohsiung just to walk around Love River, and to see Lotus Pond! Then another trip to Wulai to soak in the hot springs with a view of the waterfalls. Your man goes all out to make the trip memorable and romantic, he spares no expense when it comes to making you happy.
❥ Oikawa Tooru - Cappadocia. One of the most beautiful places on earth. I always see Oikawa as a traveler, someone in search of new adventures and trying new things, he’s also someone that wants to make an impression, especially on his beloved. Capadoccia is like something out of a modern day fairytale. I’m sure you’ve all seen those hot air balloon photos, and yeah, you guys definitely do that...for the gram, and the memories <3 You both switch off for the trip and just enjoy each other, and the beauty your destination has to offer, open air museums, camel rides (he definitely falls off his camel) , atv rides, the FAIRY CHIMNEYS! He probably begs you to go on a hike with him because he’s so used to doing them in Argentina for fun, and when you give in you don’t regret it because it leads to you to one of the most beautiful sunsets with the love of your life...
❥ Ojiro Aran - The Netherlands. I know, it’s not the first place one would think of for a honeymoon but you and Aran can’t think of a lovelier place to wind down after all the stress of planning and having your wedding. Your days are filled with exploring gorgeous Amsterdam, cruising through the canals on a private boat, long walks or bike rides together through the scenic city, and eating some of the most delicious food you’ve ever had. Aran can’t help it but take tons of photos of you when you visit Keukenhof Gardens, the tulips are in bloom, and he is reminded of why he’s absolutely smitten with you as he watches you walk through them. He takes a page out of Atsumu’s book and makes a cheesy joke about you being more beautiful than any flower, and he actually means it. He indulges you on a trip to the Van Gogh Museum, and he actually really loves it. You both leave with a stunning replica of “Almond Blossom,” because it reminded him so much of the cherry blossoms at home.
❥ Akaashi Keiji - Denmark. Another not-so-popular honeymoon destination, but it’s perfect for you and Akaashi, after all it is the home of one of the most famous fairytale authors, Hans Christian Andersen. You both spend your days touring castles in Copenhagen, and taking romantic boat rides through the canals (Europe loves these doesn’t it?), visiting Andersen’s hometown, relaxing at picturesque cafés and reading, visiting the lovely medieval village of Ribe, and taking all the aesthetic couple photos! And of course, exploring the stunning Tivoli Gardens. It’s quiet, quaint, and charming, much like your beau <3 and it’s the perfect destination for your fairytale getaway.
❥ Sakusa Kiyoomi - Prague, Czech Republic, a city of unparalleled beauty and elegance, just like your suave companion. You both honeymoon in the down season, where the crowds are less. I truly believe Kiyoomi is a romantic, and he definitely believes in the age-old rumor that a kiss in front of the statue of the romantic poet Karel Macha in the Petřín Hill Park on May Day will make your love eternal, so that’s how you start your first day in Prague after breakfast <3 there’s also the rumor that couples who kiss under a blossoming cherry tree on that day will last forever. So you guessed it, you both spend the entirety of your first day in Prague, on the hunt for said blossoming cherry tree. He makes up for it with a scorching kiss that leaves you tingling from the tips of your toes all the way to your ears when you do find your tree. Your time in Prague is spent going to an opera, romantic dinners every.single.day, putting your love lock on one of the many bridges, cruising on the canals, and to avoid all the crowds, a visit to Prague Castle before the sun rises to enjoy a magical stroll around the squares and courtyards as warmth paints the sky.
❥ Kuroo Tetsurou - New York...to be young and in love in New York City~ listen, I know New York isn’t your typical honeymoon destination but it just suits Kuroo so well! There’s so much to do! Can you imagine how fancy he’d be at all times? Especially in fall/winter fashion! Yeah, so we’re going with that. You guys go to Broadway, ice skating at Rockefeller in front of the big tree, stay at the Plaza cause it’s iconic, he gives you flowers at the top of the Empire State (like chuck and blair 😭 I miss gossip girl), eat good pizza in Little Italy, eat all the things at Chelsea Market, take walks around Central Park, have coffee at Ralph Lauren’s, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s Blue Box Café! It would be the most amazing honeymoon, with Mr. Fancy himself.
❥ Suna Rintarou - South Korea. Seoul is easily one of the most instagrammable places in the world, need I say more? You and Suna spend most of your time doing the absolute most at places like the TrickEye Museum, 2D café, Lotte World, giant library at Starfield Mall, and yeah, you two rent those Hanboks when you visit Gyeongbokgung Palace (Suna is mortified but does it to make you happy anyway). You two have pictures of everything, so many pictures. Who said being married had to be boring? You two hit up the clubs in Itaewon, and act like the horny teens you are on the inside, well he legit just sits in the booth while you give him a lap dance. Also, a nighttime visit to Namsan Seoul Tower to see the stunning views of the city, and to put your love lock on the observation deck with thousands of others. Suna tells you it’s lame but he literally had a special heart-shaped lock made for you both with your names engraved onto it <3 who’s the lame one now, Sunarin?
Thank you to @honeybunny-sawamura for letting me badger her with these hcs💕💝
Also do tell me who you guys want to see next!
#miya atsumu#miya osamu#oikawa tooru#kuroo tetsurou#akaashi keiji#suna rintarou#ojiro aran#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#miya atsumu heacanons#miya osamu headcanons#oikawa tooru headcanons#kuroo tetsurou headcanons#ojiro aran headcanons#akaashi keiji headcanons#sakusa kiyoomi headcanons#suna rintarou headcanons#miya atsumu x you#miya osamu x you#kuroo tetsurou x you#ojiro aran x you#oikawa tooru x you#akaashi keiji x you#suna rintarou x you#sakusa kiyoomi x you#haikyuu atsumu#haikyuu aran#haikyuu sakusa
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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.
(i'm gonna make you) feel it
a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨
Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader
Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.
Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg).
Word count: ~7.3k
Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the: 🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠
So, @dymphnasprose basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is! Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕
That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya who was kind enough to beta this too <3
Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it
You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN
Hanamaki is focused.
He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room.
Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.
Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.
And tonight he has already found the one.
You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really.
Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.
A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you.
Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled.
That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints.
You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.
And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later.
He’ll make sure of it.
The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance.
“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but.
“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”
“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action.
One dick for life. Ha.
“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself.
“And that’s a sexy little group.”
“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”
Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.
The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words.
The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.
The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass.
Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.
On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides.
But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.
Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.
Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.
Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body.
So fucking pure.
Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever.
Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?
When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.
Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch.
He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”
Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?
Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now.
"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."
He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride."
That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.
One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet.
Pliant.
And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type.
Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.
Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg.
When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage.
Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.
He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear.
Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace.
Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him.
Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.
Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.
Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.
Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.
He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.
His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.
Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.
Such a precious little thing indeed.
The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips.
And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.
Lovely.
Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later.
You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy.
You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.
And unfortunately that means time’s up.
Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go.
Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show.
“See you later, pretty one.”
Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.
Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name.
Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.
You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.
Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.
The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.
Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.
His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.
The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance?
The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick.
You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.
“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face.
“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac.
You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before.
If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage.
A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.
You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.
“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”
“Uhh, sir, I--”
“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.”
The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.
“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.
“Then you understand…”
“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”
Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary.
You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt.
“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.
“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”
Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.
“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone. “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”
“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.
Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.
His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell.
His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest.
You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.
He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.
Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.
Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation.
It’s really the best.
His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.
When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.
The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.
It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.
“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”
You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him.
“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”
He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.
He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.
“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.” His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this.
“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.
“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt.
“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs.
He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout.
“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.
Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too.
You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.
“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”
The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.
“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”
“I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”
“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.
You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.
If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around.
You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.
He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.
Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.
“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”
“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.
Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.
“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!”
“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.
“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”
“Fuck!”
“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”
“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”
“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”
“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”
“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.
“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in.
And he loves it.
He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him.
That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.
“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”
He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”
Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?
He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.
When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done.
Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.
Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls.
He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.
“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”
You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.
“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”
Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.
Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.
“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from.
“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.
“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”
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three pointer.
pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader
genre: fluff, romance, college!au
word count: 2453
remarks: for @kyojoroo who mentioned something about a college!au for kyojuro!! this is a bit of an ugly draft, but i just wanted to post it anyway (because i spent too much time on it) i hope you enjoy it!
“Great game!”
“Yeah, you were a beast on the court, captain!”
“That last shot was insane! We wouldn’t have won without you!”
“Thanks, everyone,” Kyoujurou laughs as he steps into the communal showers, peeling off his basketball jersey as he goes. After a whole after non of so called friendly matches against a rival college, Kyoujurou can’t wait to get into the showers to wash all the sweat and grime that has accumulated off his body. “We all did great today, not just me. It’s our victory.”
“Oh, stop it with the humility, Rengoku, it’s embarrassing to watch,” someone shoves his shoulder playfully from the back - Kyoujurou turns around to see Tengen grinning at him as he steps into the shower next to his, tossing his own jersey to the side. “I’ll eat my gym socks if the headhunters aren’t brawling over you at this year’s nationals. They’ll be like a bunch of piranhas trying to get a piece of that ass.”
Kyoujurou shakes his head, but there’s a pleased smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Let’s just focus on making it to the finals firsts,” he says with a quick laugh, stripping off his shorts and stepping into the shower. Cold water runs down his back, splashes over his face. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall.
Five minutes to eight.
He reaches for the soap just as one of his teammates starts asking around where the rest want to head to for dinner. There’s a smattering of replies from the team, consisting of answers ranging from Wendy’s to the sushi place down the street, punctuated by the sound of running water. Kyoujurou, however, does not answer, focusing his attention on rinsing his hair clean of any soap suds before he’s reaching for his towel to dry himself off.
Tengen, who’s in the shower next to him, notices how quickly he’s moving.
“What’s with the rush?” Tengen calls as Kyoujurou roughly dries his hair. “Are you that eager to head to dinner? Or,” his smile turns sly, “is it because of the cute waitress there who has the hots for you?”
“What? Don’t be stupid,” Kyoujurou reaches for his shirt, tugging it over his head and casting another glance at the clock. Eight o’ clock now. Damn, he’s late. “Besides, I’m not having dinner with you guys today. I have something else on.”
Tengen raises his eyebrows so fast Kyoujurou thinks that they might just fly off his forehead. “You have something else on?” He repeats, so loudly he might as well be trying to broadcast it to Mars. And to nobody’s surprise, least of all Kyoujurou’s, everyone in the showers is immediately aware of Kyoujurou’s dinner plans.
“Ehh? Captain, you’re not coming with us for dinner?”
“Yeah, we were gonna treat you and have some drinks after!”
“No, no, everyone, let him go,” Tengen’s eyes glint, and instantly Kyoujurou knows that his thoughts are ballooning far beyond the reaches of reality. “He’s definitely got himself a date, fucking finally-” Kyoujurou slaps a hand over Tengen’s mouth to shut him up before another word can leave him. The man might be one of his best friends, but god can he be annoying sometimes.
“I am going to dinner with a friend.” Kyoujurou emphasizes on the word ‘friend’. Tengen waggles his eyebrows very suggestively at him.
“A very… flamboyant type of friend?” He suggests, and Kyoujurou throws his towel at him. This, unfortunately, only serves to make Tengen all the more insufferable than he already is, the man dissolving into a bout of uncontrollable laughter. Kyoujurou groans.
“Stop it.” Sending one last look at the clock, he gathers up his things and shoves them into his backpack before pulling on his varsity jacket as fast as he can. “I’m meeting a very friend sort of friend for dinner, so don’t get any funny ideas. And stop it with the moaning noises,” he directs his last comment at Tengen, who’s still laughing at him. “I’ll see you guys for training tomorrow!”
As expected, a few shout goodbye in return while the rest hoot and holler for him to introduce them to his ‘special friend’ soon. With a quiet laugh and a shake of the head, Kyoujurou steps out of the sports hall, grateful for the cool evening air against his warm cheeks. Really, why do they feel the need to tease him like that?
He’s just about to take off at a light jog when his phone vibrates in the front pocket of his jeans.
Wincing around a slight smile, he hits ‘answer’ and raises the phone to his ear without a glance at the caller ID, the soles of the shoes slapping lightly against the pavement as he picks up a steady pace.
“Hey.” Kyojuro says. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too breathless.
“You’re late.”
“We went into overtime and the match ended late.” The lights are red when he reaches the crossroads, so he slows his pace and takes a moment to catch his breath. A car honks loudly opposite him. “Sorry about that.”
“Hmm.” A noncommittal noise, and then a pause. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Dinner?” He repeats. The lights turn green, and he begins to jog once more. “Uhh… a double cheeseburger set and a coke zero.” It’s difficult to run and talk at the same time, more so over the phone with his backpack jostling with every step he takes.
“Tempura side?”
A short bark of laughter leaves him. “You know me too well.” There’s a smile stubbornly clinging to his lips. He doesn’t want to get rid of it.
“You’re about as easy to read as a piece of paper.” A snort, then quieter, “I’ll be waiting for you at the diner.” Before Kyoujurou has the chance to say his own goodbye, the call hangs up on him. He holds the phone up, looks at it for a moment in amusement and laughs, before shoving his phone back into his pocket and quickening his pace, a new spring in his step.
You’re not a person who likes to be kept waiting.
>>>
The distance to the diner isn’t very far from the sports hall, so Kyoujurou takes only about ten minutes, at a light jog, to make it there. Slightly out of breath from the exertion, he takes a moment to catch his breath and collect himself, before he pushes open the door to the diner, eyes immediately searching the inside for-
You’re seated at one of the booths, dressed in a comfy oversized hoodie and idly scrolling through your phone as you wait for him, two trays of untouched food on the table in front of you. At the sight of you, his mood lifts instantly - you don’t seem to have noticed him yet, so he waits for a moment before he makes his way over to you, sliding into the seat opposite.
You look up from your phone, and Kyoujurou beams, shucking his bag to the side.
“Hey.”
You raise an eyebrow at his chipper attitude, glancing at the screen of your phone as you set it to the side. “You are,” your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek, “twenty minutes late.”
Kyojuro puts his palms flat on the table and bows his head sincerely. “I am very sorry,” he says, suitably chastened. “Please forgive me.” You look at him for a moment, then open your mouth to speak.
“Did you win?”
At that, the smile that Kyoujurou has been trying so hard to keep down inevitably breaks through. “Mmhmm,” he says, and he swears he catches a ghost of a smile touching your lips as well.
“Then I’ll let you off this time.” You push his tray towards him, condensation gathering on the outside of his drink. You’ve been waiting twenty minutes for him, after all.
“You could have started eating first, you know?” Kyoujurou says, slightly worried as he begins unwrapping his burger. “It’s not healthy to eat too late, and I know you skipped lunch for your project today.”
You shrug off his concern, lazily stealing a fry from his tray before he can stop you (not that he would, even if he could). “Wanted to eat together.” Is all you say in form of an answer, before popping it into your mouth.
Kyoujurou blinks at you, then reaches over to put a few more fries on your tray. He really needs to work on hiding his smile.
“Have some more, then.”
The two of you eat in comfortable silence amidst the chatter and noise ongoing behind you. Occasionally, Kyoujurou pauses between bites to ask you about your day, how your tests went. Conversation swells and ebbs easily between the two of you, never awkward, and the silence is always comfortable.
He finishes his meal first, demolishing the entire tray of food in a few big bites that would make Godzilla proud. Calling for an ice cream (because he’s still hungry), Kyoujurou settles his head on his hands, content to watch you eat, but to his surprise, you’re the one who speaks up first with an unexpected question.
“So, nationals.” You say, slowly. “When are they?”
Kyoujurou pauses, then blinks up at you, unsure if he’s mistaken the word ‘finals’ for ‘nationals’. You’ve never showed an interest in any of his basketball matches before, due to your dislike of large crowds and excessive screaming - hence, almost every basketball game ever. As far as he remembers, you’ve never even been to a game since… well, ever. Still, you asked, so Kyoujurou will answer.
“They start next month.” Kyoujurou sits up, back a little more straight. “Why?”
Ignoring his question, you simply continue. “It’s a big deal for you, isn’t it?” You lift your burger and take a bite out of it. “Your future, and all that.”
Kyoujurou exhales a bit before he smiles again. “Yeah, it’s huge. All the headhunters from the professional teams will be watching. I can’t afford to show them anything but my best if I’m serious about becoming a professional athlete in the future.”
You make a face. “That sounds… awful, to be honest.” Kyoujurou laughs at that. Instead of taking another bite of your burger, you take a breath, set it to the side and look at Kyoujurou seriously. Confused by the sudden change in mood, Kyoujurou looks back at you, back straightening subconsciously and leaning forward more so that he can hear you better. “Since that’s the case, do you…” you pause for a second, seemingly hesitant, which really piques Kyoujurou’s interest. “Do you want me to-”
Kyoujurou never does find out what it is that you’re suggesting, because in the next second you’re interrupted by an ice cream being set down on the table between you. You, as usual, fall silent in the presence of an unexpected stranger, and Kyoujurou wants to groan. Talk about bad timing. It had seemed serious.
“Oh, it’s you again, captain.” Kyoujurou looks up to see the waitress smiling at him - she’s the one who usually serves his team when they stop by here for team dinners. He returns her smile politely. “It’s surprising to see you here with someone other than your team.”
“I had plans with a friend,” Kyoujurou gestures at you, not noticing the slight frown that tugs at your mouth. The waitress’ mouth forms a slight ‘o’ of realisation at the word ‘friend’, fidgeting with the serving tray in her hands before she speaks again.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your time with your friend here,” she says, suddenly, and her nervous tone gives Kyoujurou pause. Was Tengen right somehow? Did she really have a crush on him? “But you’re a sweet person and I think you’re really cute, so… if it’s alright… may I have your number to get to know you better?”
Kyoujurou blinks up at her, caught off guard by the sudden question - yet he finds his eyes instinctively straying to you. Your expression is neutral, both hands wrapped around his sundae as you begin digging into it, seemingly paying no attention at all to his business with the waitress.
Pressing his lips together, Kyoujurou turns back to the waitress, giving her a smile. “Thank you for your affection, I’m deeply honoured. However,” he pauses, making sure that his voice is carefully gentle before he continues, “I’m afraid that I already have someone else I am interested in. My deepest apologies.”
“Oh.” Her voice comes out tiny. Her eyes dart towards you, just for a moment, but once again you don’t seem to notice, attention still completely riveted on his ice cream. “No, no, it was my fault. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“Not at all!” Kyoujurou is quick to reassure her. “I think you’re a lovely woman, surely soon you will meet a partner worthy of you who returns your feelings.”
The waitress squeaks out a ‘thank you’ before she escapes into the kitchen, serving tray clutched to her chest. With that over, Kyoujurou turns back to you with an apology on his lips, only to be surprised to see that you’re staring at the kitchen door the waitress has just disappeared through.
“That happens often,” you comment lightly, taking another bite of his sundae. “You must be used to rejecting them by now. Did you come up with that excuse on your own?”
I’m afraid I already have someone else I am interested in.
Kyoujurou’s mouth opens, lips parting slightly and an answer hanging from the tip of his tongue, but before the words can escape him he closes his mouth firmly. He looks at you, watching as you swirl a fry in his ice cream before popping it into your mouth, before you look up at him expectantly. It is not in his nature to lie, so…
“You’ve finished all my ice cream,” he says, tone lighthearted. “I wanted dessert, you know.”
You glance at him, eyes narrowing slightly, but you don’t press the issue, looking down at his ice cream again. “I’ll buy you another one if you want.” You shrug. “Food always tastes better when stolen from someone else.”
Kyoujurou has to shake off a smile before he rises to his feet, hiking his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Although the stroll is done so in comfortable silence, the topic of the waitress does not resurface, and Kyoujurou can’t help but feel just a hint disappointed. When you bid him goodbye at the door, your expression is just as unreadable as ever, and Kyoujurou does not know what to make of it.
He never manages to find out what it was that you wanted to talk about, either.
#rengoku#rengoku fanfic#rengoku kyojuro#rengoku kyojuro x reader#kyojuro#kyoujurou#demon slayer#demon slayer fanfic#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba fanfic#kimetsu rengoku#kny fanfic#kny#kny kyojuro
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The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D: Entry Roundup
You’ve been patiently waiting for the results of the ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D, and now... you have to wait a bit longer, but at least you’ve got an entry roundup with lots of sketches and a good bit of feedback for all the entrants! My goal is to get the finalists illustrated in a week or two, and after that, the grand prize winner will be announced. But, for now, the official entry roundup! After the cut:
I should note that while I sketched these in the order they were submitted, my scanner saved the documents with random names, so they’re a bit jumbled. You know, just in case you’re like me and would get confused noticing that it’s almost in chronological order but with some entries jumbled around.
@bugcthulhu’s Obsideban was designed as a counterpart to Rohobaron - the Black King to Rohobaron’s Red King, if you will. Or, well, Black Queen in this case, as Obsideban also takes her personality from the “delinquent girl” archetype in Japanese media. Bug’s designs always ooze personality, and I had a lot of fun translating this big, gnarly retrosaur into my own style.
@toothlessloveshiccup‘s Argonox is the first - but far from the last - monster in this breakdown that brings in a bit of fantasy influence to ATOM’s roster. A golden-fleeced ram with a vicious streak, this sheep is both treasure and dragon at once. And while it wasn’t written in the monster’s profile, given the Yamaneon-rich nature of its wool, Argonox might be able to replicate the healing power of the golden fleece too! A very fun mammalian kaiju and excellent entry.
@highly-radioactive-nerd submitted Gunmetal Jeeves, a robot butler who can gigantomax temporarily create a holographic/hard light version of himself to fight kaiju. That detail was a late revision added to the entry before the contest’s deadline, made after the creator realized that ATOM allows for some truly ludicrous bullshit, which is something everyone should exploit when making entries for this in my opinion. Also, this is a robot butler who can size shift. Revel in its awesome absurdity!
Ultranerd submitted Rajasaurus, a dimetrodon-like synapsid kaiju with electric powers. His origin specifies that the electric powers are a result of the volatile nature of the Yamaneon deposits he mutated under, which is an interesting idea. That’s another theme that cropped up a lot in this contest’s entries, actually - people really wanted to play with what Yamaneon can do.
Case in point, @polygonfighter’s Yamaneolith takes the Monolith Monsters homage at the heart of Yamaneon even more apparent. I like the implication that there is a second mineral-based lifeform at the root of this Yamaneon cluster’s anomalous behavior - a parasite, perhaps? It brings up some interesting possibilities.
@ariccio50 submitted Kukulkuzana, and damn is this a cool spin on the body plan of my martians. I made a few changes here and there (splitting its tail into two is probably the biggest one), but tried to keep true to the original design, because holy hell is it gorgeous. The idea that this is a mountain-dwelling creature is really intriguing to me, as it looks like a sea creature, but at the same time, that flexible and low-slung build WOULD work pretty well in mountains, and it’s just the right mix of plausible weirdness that makes for a fun alien design.
@akitymh submitted Aramzados, a Venusian monster that’s basically an organic hot rod car. I like the idea of organic machinery being the gimmick for Venusian kaiju, and Aramzado’s does it subtly enough to not feel like that gimmick is the sole thing going for it. I especially love this monster’s stange, apparently mouth-less blade-beaked face.
@virovac submitted Rurzar and Zar Rider, a Beyonder kaiju and mecha (respecitvely) that were both modified and repurposed by humans reverse engineering Beyonder technology to make, like, a motorcycle-saurus essentially. It is a delightfully absurd concept, and a very, very detailed one (13 pages of description). There’s a dark undercurrent beneath the sillyness, though, as this pair show that humanity might still be following the same path as the Beyonders before them.
@dinosaurana brings us Krangor, a humanoid monstrosity of living kelp! The goal here was to create a Jack Kirby-esque monster dude, complete with the gibberish name and all. He’s also made out of kelp, which feels very classic 1950′s monster-y despite me not being able to think of any monsters that were explicitly made of kelp. I love him.
@kiryuthechimera submitted Genkakurah, a psychic retrosaur with some draconic features. Though his substantial powerset is probably the biggest distinguishing feature of this kaiju (given that most ATOM kaiju pretty much have the same standard powers), what really draws me to him is that reptilian pseudo-beard. It’s just a fun detail!
@glarnboudin submits Tiratola, and see, there’s that fantasy influence again! Even more explicitly dragon-y than Kraydi, Tiratola still manages to toe the line between sci-fi and fantasy enough to fit ATOM as is while still cementing its ties to my own slice of fantasy fiction. Man it’s good I’m doing a Midgaheim book next, huh?
@dragonzzilla submitted Scuttlebutt/Argonautilus, a hermit crab kaiju who lives in/with a hollowed out mecha. That’s a twist I can’t recall ever hearing before, and the idea of a kaiju and a mecha having an equal partnership that doesn’t involve one being grafted to the other is really intriguing to me. A very unique concept!
@evolutionsvoid submitted Fleagor, an enormous flea who has no idea what to do with itself now that there’s no creature large enough for it to parasitize. I love that concept - it takes the core idea of the giant bug kaiju archetype (i.e. unsettling the audience by showing how terrifying small, “insignificant” creatures would be if our sizes were reversed) and really turns it on its head. The name also plays on the Universal Monsters, who were a huge part of 1950′s pop culture thanks to their movies being re-released in that era, so all and all this one is very on brand for ATOM!
@skarmorysilver submitted Lilacorn, another entry that plays up that Midgaheim/ATOM connection. Reinterpreting the mythological unicorn as an Cenozoic wooly rhinoceros-inspired monster gives it a very unique look, both in ATOM and in the general world of unicorns, and she has a bad-girl with a heart of gold personality to boot!
dracosaurus-rex submitted Florasaura, a two-headed plant/retrosaur hybrid monster. I love me some plant monsters, I love me some retrosaurs, and I love me some rhyming the word “flora” with other words that contain similar vowell sounds, so this one has me written all over it!
@downtofragglerock submitted Sauroguana, a delightfully odd flying retrosaur. There’s a great deal of charm to the original illustration that this sketch doesn’t quite capture - it’s a deceptively simple design with a lot of personality in it, and with those unique leg-wings it really doesn’t need a whole lot of frills to stand out.
Draxi submitted Brakan, an unimpressive burrowing retrosaur kaiju whose mastery of illusions allows it to convince other kaiju it’s actually a big, super-powerful badass that’s the ultimate fighter in the universe. It’s a delightful parody of the concept of a fan self-insert god-mode character, with a really fun story built into it to boot!
@quinnred submitted O.N.I.A.C., a mysterious cocooned kaiju whose chrysalis has been turned into an organic computer of sorts by the people studying it, and seems to possess a fairly advanced intelligence for a kaiju. It’s a really bizarre and ominous idea, with built in intrigue given how vague its nature is. Is it just a kaijufied butterfly/moth who got stuck mid transformation? A relative of the Mothmanuds? Something else, perhaps equally alien? Good story potential here.
shadyserpent submitted Vespilitor, a bat/retrosaur hybrid made by the nefarious Spooks Organization. A mercurial prankster whose tendency to stir up trouble never crosses the line into maliciousness, he’s the kind of monster who would make a great foil to a lot of ATOM’s cast. I’d especially like to see him in a prank off with Ahuul - it’d be like Bugs Bunny fighting Daffy Duck, but on a kaiju scale.
@multiversefan submitted the Yamaneon King, a nomadic kaiju whose refusal to settle down causes problems as he stirs up trouble at kaiju sanctuaries all over the globe by showing up unannounced and stirring up the locals. He was basically designed to be a monster that the kaiju sanctuary initiative would struggle to deal with, which is a good idea for a post-ATOM Volume 2 story conflict.
Sir K submitted Jadeera, a kirin kaiju that can actually forcibly convert most of its body to Yamaneon to enter a dormant, statue-like state in a loose homage to King Shisa. Though the fantasy elements are far more present than I usually prefer for ATOM kaiju, I think it should be noted they’re pushed that far for a purpose - a theme in Jadeera’s entry, which continues where its creator left off with their submission to the previous ATOM create a kaiju contest (Yokaigon), is that the world of kaiju is more complicated and challenging than many are willing to accept, which is a theme in ATOM itself. Yokaigon’s more supernatural/occult powers are based on the ghost parascience of my setting, which ATOM has delved into a bit (Pathogen being the big example), so it’s not as out of left field as some might think.
@cerothenull brings us our final entry (unless some got lost thanks to tumblr’s shitty tagging system), the flying spider Naeranti. She’s a kaiju spider who uses silk to make complicate hot-air balloons, more or less, and that’s just delightful. ATOM could always use more spider-monsters, and with a really unique gimmick backing up a wonderfully distinct look, Naeranti is sure to stand out among her fellow giant arachnids.
Well, that’s the roundup! In a week (or two, depending on how much my hand cramps) we’ll have the five finalists, and sometime after that, the grand prize winner!
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“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)
Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.
He decided against those.
Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.
Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?
Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.
“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”
He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.
He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”
“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”
How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”
Read on AO3
Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”
“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.
“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”
The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.
“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”
Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.
“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”
Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”
His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.
“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”
“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”
“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.
“What do you want?” He hissed.
A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.
“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”
Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.
“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”
“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”
Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.
“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”
“Who’s talking about it?”
“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”
“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”
“Was she on the crosswalk?”
Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”
“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”
“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.
Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.
“Ring up the seal.”
-
The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.
He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.
“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.
The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.
“What are you doing here?”
Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.
She looked awful.
And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.
“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”
The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.
“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”
After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.
“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”
The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.
“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”
To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.
“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”
They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.
It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.
“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.
She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”
“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.
“Do you have a Sharpie?”
“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”
Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.
“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”
It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.
“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”
“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”
Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.
“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”
“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”
“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”
Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.
“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.
She cocked a brow at him. “What?”
“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”
It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”
“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”
“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.
He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.
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I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!
#zelink#zelink fic#zelink fanfiction#botw fanart#botw fanfiction#botw au#botw prompt#tloz botw#tloz fanfic#tloz fanart#link/zelda#legend of zelda#legend of zelda fanfiction#writers on tumblr#archive of our own#cyraclove#cyraclove writes#fanfiction#ao3 link
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If it’s okay, how about “You always do that. You always warm me up.” and/or “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” with jontim for the soft sentence prompts? your writing is some of my favourite of all time and your jontim especially is just *chefs kiss* mwah. Incredible.
Some soft JonTim for one of my favorite artists! Always happy to have another friend to spread the good word of this pairing, a particular favorite of mine. Hope you enjoy!
“Jon, you look wrecked.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied said wreck. “I’ve just got a cold, that’s all.”
Tim fixed him with an incredulous look. Jon stumbled through the doors of the library this morning looking for all the world like the equivalent of ‘hammered shit’ (Sasha’s words). Jon’s usual vibe was tired and harried on a good day, but this was pushing it. He only managed to get about half of his hair into a bun, the rest hanging limply around his face. He’d thrown a chunky cardigan over his clothes to hide that they were the same ones from yesterday. It did not work. Complete with red cheeks and bleary eyes, the man was not fit to be in a workplace.
Jon begged to differ. “I’m fine,” he said, burying a cough in his elbow. “I took medicine. Look.” With that, he dug a crushed box of liquid capsules out of his bag and threw it haphazardly in the direction of Tim, who caught it in startled hands.
“This is expired,” he replied after one look at the box. “It’s also not meant for daytime. When did you take this again?” Jon frowned uncomprehendingly as he attempted to parse out the words and Tim would’ve gathered him up in his arms right then if it wouldn’t embarrass him.
“Hmm.” The question should not be difficult. “‘Bout an hour ago, maybe?” Jon listed dangerously to the side, grabbing at his desk to keep steady and in the process knocking an overflowing cup of pencils to the ground. “Oops.” Jon was occasionally a man of few words, but ‘oops’ was not one of them. Tim immediately got to his feet, rushing over to steady him.
“‘Oops’ is right.” He gently managed to get Jon to his feet, leaning most of his body weight against Tim’s side. “You’re going home.” Jon just slumped further into his arms, barely managing a nod. His sudden compliance worried Tim; usually, Jon would put up way more of a fuss, getting snippy and slapping his hands away. This easy submission, while appreciated, made him more nervous than reassured.
“G’bye, Sasha,” Jon attempted a wave on the way out that looked more like a vague swatting of the air. “Tim’s takin’ me home.” She smiled indulgently, giving the two of them a wave in return.
“Take care of your man, Tim! And that’s an order.”
Tim would’ve saluted if he didn’t have an armful of Jon. “Aye aye, Captain.”
“Your man?” Jon mumbled as they made their way down the hallway, sinking further into his side. He said it as if the words were foreign, confusing. Tim couldn’t help his laughter.
“Well, yeah.” He nodded in thanks to Rosie, who held the door open on the way out with a pitying look at Jon. The air outside was cold, bracing- Jon’s ridiculously chunky cardigan still wasn’t enough against the wind. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help you in your hour of need?” In a stroke of luck, he managed to snag a cab as soon as someone exited at the building next door. The less time outside, the better. “In you go!” He managed to gently extract Jon from his side and maneuver him into the back of the car. He rattled off his own address to the cabbie- if all Jon had at home was an expired packet of night-time medicine, he didn’t have much faith in the rest of his medical supplies.
He shut the car door and turned to find Jon staring at him in a sort of wide-eyed, loopy wonder. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so concerning. “What is it?” he asked, running a comforting hand over his arm. “Are you okay?”
“We’re...boyfriends?” Shit. Tim realized they hadn’t used the term before and here he was, just casually slipping it out. It was not unlike him; Sasha always teased him at how easily he fell in love. But he was trying to take it slowly with Jon, do things right. Jon deserved that.
“I mean...yes?” It came out more nervously than he’d like, Jon was really doing him in with those giant, hopeful eyes. Damn him. He tried for familiar, easy ground. “I’ve been wining and dining you all around town. Do my forehead kisses mean nothing to you?” He put a hand to his chest, dramatic and exaggerated. “I’m wounded.”
“No!” Jon exclaimed, grabbing at the hand on Tim’s chest with an unexpected strength. “I like those. Please don’t stop.” His face was a blazing fever-red and filled with concern, not unlike when he was drunk and oblivious to teasing. “You won’t stop, w-will you?”
Tim’s heart melted without his permission. “Course not.” He took the small hand and squeezed it with his own. Jon sunk into a similarly sappy expression; he had no right being this adorable on expired cold medication. God, he loved him.
Shit.
Jon continued to talk, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Iz’zat why you got me those Valentine’s chocolates?”
Shit.
“And the bear?”
Love? The big ol’ ‘L’ word? What if he’d sprung that on Jon like this, in the back of a cab when he wouldn’t remember it?
“And the balloon?”
How embarrassing for him. Truly.
“And the card?” Tim had forgotten Jon was still talking.
“Yes!” He choked out against Jon’s interrogation. “God, I didn’t realize how much of a sap I was.” Jon giggled in response, a high, happy sound incongruous with his usual sarcastic snorts.
“Yeah, you are.” He snuggled into Tim’s side; he could feel the heat radiating from the man, even through his jacket. “You gotta tell me these things. Else I won’t know.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jon was a literal man, Tim knew this. But he hadn’t exactly been subtle in his overtures.
“Boyfriends,” Jon sighed dreamily. “I like that.”
Hopefully he would remember this conversation.
__________
“This is not my flat.”
“Got it in one, Sherlock.”
He shuffled Jon through the door, depositing him as gently as possible on the couch and wrapping a fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He looked ridiculous, eyes at half-mast and a confused look on his face. “Gonna wait on the paracetamol, at least until the shit you’re on wears off.”
“Hnnh.” Jon leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes in contentment like a particularly lazy cat. “Kay.” Tim puttered about in the kitchen, getting a glass of water and wetting a rag; he should at least attempt to get the fever under control, Jon’s insistence on layers wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t say no to him, shaking and shivering as he was. Jon deserved a blanket burrito if he wanted one.
Tim pushed the glass of water into Jon’s hands, urging him to take a couple of sips before he set it back down. He plopped himself down on the couch, maneuvering Jon so that he was laying against his chest and placing the damp rag on his forehead, despite his protests. “We’re going to watch some crap telly and you’re going to take a nap. Sound good?” He should’ve probably gotten the remote before he laid down, but now that Jon was snuggled against his chest he was pretty much immovable.
“You’re not going back to work?” Jon asked the question as if Tim staying home was uncalled for and strange. He snorted in response. Typical Jon.
“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”
Jon managed to lift his head a few precious centimeters, though he was straining with the effort. He looked as if he were going to say something very important, but he instead just collapsed back against his chest and buried his face in Tim’s jumper with a lazy purr of contentment. I can’t believe I’m dating a literal cat.
“God, you’re really burning up,” Tim rearranged the towel so it was back on his forehead, having fallen off during Jon’s attempt at conversation.
His next words were muffled against Tim’s chest. “You always do that. You always warm me up.”
Tim almost audibly cooed at the sentiment before seeing an opportunity for a joke and taking it. Let it never be said that Tim Stoker missed an opening.
“Why Jon,” his voice took on an unbearable, teasing tone as his smile grew. “Are you saying I’m so hot I made you sick?” Jon groaned at the words, as expected.
“No.”
“How does that song go, again? You’re givin’ me fev-aah-”
“Shut up, Tim!” He let out a quiet chuckle, giving Jon a light squeeze in apology.
“Alright, alright. I’ll let you rest.” Jon sighed, curling up in his arms. They stayed like that for some time; Tim rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. Just when he thought Jon had been lulled to sleep, he spoke up in a quiet tone.
“You...you actually have a nice voice.” The words were slurred and Tim tried not to take offense at the ‘actually’ addendum. “But maybe just a bit quieter. And just a hum. Thanks.”
He snickered. “Will do.”
“Love you.” Tim froze, his hand stilling in its movements. He doesn’t mean it, he told himself firmly. He’s just tired and loopy. He won’t remember this when he wakes up. Still, he responded and the intensity behind the words was surprising even to him.
“Love you, too.”
Jon slept and Tim ran his fingers through his hair, listening to his soft snores. In an hour or two, he’d make him soup and insist on a dose of real meds. And that night, when Jon was curled around him in bed, with clear eyes and a lucid voice he’d repeat the words he mumbled earlier. And he would mean them.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977733
#my writing#prompt fills#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#tim stoker#jontim#sickfic#fluff#just two boys in love here#cinnamoniic
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under the same sky ||| teaser
“An age where you feel like you could love anyone, where you put everything on the line for the smallest of things. Eighteen. Adults say that it’s an age where we laugh if a leaf tumbles by. But back then, we were more serious than any adult, more intense, and had our strength tested...That was how our eighteen was beginning.”
-Sung Shi-Won, 응답하라 1997.
Synopsis: 1999. Amongst the sea of white raincoats and balloons belonging to Club H.O.T. you befriend Kim Jungwoo - a boy with a secret - who immediately fills your world with vivid color. With the new millennium approaching almost as quickly as high school graduation, your heart belongs to one man only: Kangta. And as his own future looms in the distance, Jungwoo can’t decide if merely idolizes the man, or if he wants to be the next Kangta.
He is certain of one thing, however: he is absolutely smitten by you.
Pairing: Student!Jungwoo x (f) Student!Reader
Genre: late 90′s!au. fluff, slice of life. friends-to-lovers, angst-ish. painful ending, you’ve been warned. 💀
Word Count: 10k++++ (teaser: 1.5k)
Release Date: ???
Snoopy0219: how am i going to find you tomorrow!
Snoopy0219: should i sing out ‘baaa baaaaa’ like i’m looking for a sheep in a pasture??
Baabaakangta: hahahhahahahahhahahaaaa please
Baabaakangta: would you actually??
Snoopy0219: ;) you underestimate me
Snoopy0219: do you have a pager?? lets exchange numbers
Snoopy0219: or you could dress up as a sheep hehe
Snoopy0219: that would be one way to have kangta notice you!!!
Baabaakangta: >:( not. funny.
Baabaakangta: i’ll be wearing a cow print hat, i’ll have a snoopy related gift sitting outside my bag??
Snoopy0219: okay!! i’ll go up and down the line ‘baa baaaaaaa’ing until i find you!! ^__^
Snoopy0219: see you tomorrow, sheep!!!!!!
You nervously look around as you settle into your spot in line, in no immediate rush to sit down on the hard concrete. While there weren’t many others amongst the crowd, it dawns on you you aren’t the only one sporting a big, fluffy, cow print bucket hat. Thinking back to your conversation with Snoopy the night before, you pull the small dog plush you had bought as a gift for your new friend out of your drawstring bag, making sure it would be visible to anyone passing by.
Time slowly passes once you sit. At first you’re eager to fidget with your pager - sending a quick ‘8282’ to Snoopy, checking nervously every few minutes for a reply. Eventually the device vibrates in your lap, notifying you that she was on her way. The atmosphere was getting livelier by the minute, with fan groups dispersed neatly all around the perimeter of the arena, identifiable immediately by the color of their balloons and raincoats. Fan club leaders equipped with bullhorns led their respective contingents in song and chants, a preview of the many performances to come later that evening. Club H.O.T. was no exception, with girls going up and down the ever-growing line handing out support goods and spare white balloons, while ‘Hope’ played on repeat through a boombox towards the front of the queue. When you first arrived, the unexpected fervor of fanchants made you flinch, but after a couple of minutes you found yourself joining in, mindlessly adding your voice to the collective.
All of your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t much time for your mind to ruminate anxiously about finally meeting Snoopy face to face. Nothing about her had seemed dangerous - which is why you extended the invite in the first place. On the very slim chance that she turned out to be a creep, she’d be insane to harm you in such a crowded place. You weren’t really worried about getting along with Snoopy - you knew that wouldn’t be a problem from your extensive chat logs. Rather you were terrified of what she would think of you - if she would even want to be your friend after meeting you in person...
“Baa baa?”
Your pulse increases rapidly, hearing the agreed upon saying that you and Snoopy had laughed about last night. But when you stand up and turn around to get a good first look at your new friend, your jaw drops open.
Standing before you, scratch that - above you is a...boy? He towers over you, black hair with messy overgrown bangs that surely had to impact his field of vision, framed in contrast by the hood of his standard issue white raincoat. His features were round - expressive eyes, button nose, full cheeks and chapped lips, currently pressed together and curved upward in a smile. He blinks once, twice, tilts his head slightly to the side, much as a dog might.
“Baa baa? It’s me, Snoopy.”
Unbelievable, you think to yourself. It takes you a moment to find your voice amidst the living nightmare you suddenly were inhabiting, but you knew you had to be assertive and stand your ground.
“Did she really send her brother to prank me?! Get lost.”
If the boy was insulted, he sure didn’t look it. He was unfazed - the same soft smile remained on his face despite your hostility, as if he was aware of something you weren’t.
“Sheep, it’s really me, honest.”
“Prove it.”
You regret your words the moment they leave your mouth. Without hesitation or warning, the boy swiftly closes the gap between you two, his face too close for comfort as it grazes past your own; his hot breath tickling your forehead, cheek, and finally your ear, where he whispers:
“I know aaaaallllll about that dream you had the other day, the one where you ran into Kangta at the convenience store and then, you know...~~’
Stunned into silence, cheeks-practically-burning-off-of-your-face-they're-so-red, you resist your immediate urge to slap this guy across the face, the nerve of the pervert…! Instead you thrust your arms out, making contact with his chest and successfully managing to push him away. He stumbles two, three steps back, his hands up in defense.
“T-that was in confidence, you jerk!” you stutter out, looking down at the ground and praying your beet red cheeks would calm down sooner rather than later, covering them with your hands.
The boy laughs - rather loudly, melodically, and pulls a pager out of his back pocket. Seconds later, the telltale notification lands on your respective device. The sharp features of your face softened slightly at the realization. Snoopy, he really was...
Lifting your head back up, you scan the boy standing in front of you over once, twice - this time taking notice of his lanky frame, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Certainly non-threatening, but you’re still skeptical.
“I’m really sorry, it was never my intention to mislead you. Let’s start this over.” the boy clears his throat, and then bows, softly. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Snoopy, but since that hasn’t really worked out...you can call me by my actual name - it’s Jungwoo.”
“Uh-huh, Jungwoo. Is this how you pick up girls? Chat them up on Club H.O.T. and then-”
“I wasn’t lying about my love for H.O.T.!” He interrupts you, hands waving wildly in the air. “I think they’re the coolest!”
At this he steps back and begins dancing the all too familiar choreography for “Candy”, singing out loud to the chorus timidly. You dimly recall Snoopy Jungwoo mentioning the hours he would spend learning each new dance routine, and the effort clearly showed - his movements bright and sharp throughout the chorus. You could’ve sworn he was defying gravity when he jumped - you had never seen someone so lightweight on their feet before.
And yet your expression was unreadable - mind a blur on account of the entire situation unfolding in front of you. Jungwoo notices this as he finishes, the smile dropping from his face as he catches his breath. Silence falls briefly between you both.
“...you really think I’d travel all the way here from Gimpo for a joke?”
There was now a tinge of sadness apparent in Jungwoo’s voice, and guilt washes over you in a sudden, cold wave. You can feel his eyes on you, the weight of your initial cruelty and skepticism like a hundred stones in each pocket.
“I love dancing, I love singing,” he continues. “I genuinely think H.O.T. are the best, are the coolest. I’m studying to be an engineer - I love school, I get good grades. Why can’t I enjoy both things?”
When you fail to come up with any semblance of a retort, Jungwoo sighs, shifts his weight back and forth on his hips.
“That's why I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s why I’m here now. If word got out back home that I was a card carrying Club H.O.T. member...” he fishes around for his wallet in his back pocket, fumbles through the card slots until finding his membership card, showing it to you with shaky hands, “I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”
There, printed in clean handwriting, was his name: 김정우.
You believed him by now - honestly you had the moment your pager went off while he was standing right in front of you. Snoopy, Jungwoo - whatever they wanted to call themselves - was your friend. What difference did his gender make, anyways? With a firm mental reminder to not share any of your dirty daydreams about Kangta going forward, you decided to finally drop your guard. It was time to have some fun.
“Some advice?” Jungwoo looks up at you upon hearing your voice, in the middle of putting his membership card back in his wallet. “If you don’t want your friends to find that card, maybe don’t carry it in your wallet.”
Jungwoo struggles for a moment before figuring out you were screwing with him. Once he puts two and two together, it doesn’t take long for his boisterous, musical laugh you heard minutes prior to fill the space between you and him, head thrown back to the late afternoon sky. It was now his turn to feel flustered - although his cheeks seemed to take on a much more flattering pink tone to them when embarrassed, a trait you were quickly envious of. An unspoken concession occurs between the two of you as you sit down.
To Jungwoo, however - it felt much more like falling.
authors note: my first ‘big’ fic!!! my baby!!! she’s very much still a work in progress, but after nearly 2 months of wanting to commit to writing something longer and then sitting on my bum lol. this is what i’ve got so far, but i do have a full outline and i’m chipping away at it day by day. any kind of feedback or general excitement for this would be so appreciated 🥺
#kim jungwoo#jungwoo#nct fanfic#nct 127 fanfic#kim jungwoo fanfic#jungwoo fic#jungwoo x reader#jungwoo fanfic
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Never Been Kissed: Hizashi Yamada
HI I’M ON A ROLL
so this combines NYE and Valentine’s Day soooo yeah
Pairing: Hizashi Yamada x fem!reader
~~~~~~~~~~
Conflicting schedules had always been a problem in your relationship, but it never stopped either of you. Sure you had made plans with your boyfriend for your first Valentine’s together, but plans always change.
Your work hours got shifted around again.
He had to work extra hours at the radio station because someone else requested time off. It was always something.
But that’s how the two of you worked.
You knew being in a relationship with the radio hero and teacher Present Mic would me taxing, whether emotionally or mentally. It was hard dealing with his early mornings and late nights, but you persevered. You just thought that maybe you’d be able to spend time with him on a day that meant a lot to him. You weren’t too surprised that he really and truly loved this day. With how loud he shows his emotions, you figured this holiday was perfect for him.
But his softs were always the most serene softs you’d ever experienced. Everyone knew Present Mic, but few knew Hizashi Yamada. And you were one of the lucky few to know him. You knew him not just as a person and hero, you knew him intimately. I mean, of course you did, you’ve been together for over a year! Like the cheesy man you know him to be, he had planned it out all perfectly during a New Years Eve show. You had been on a few dates but nothing had been official, so you were surprised he had invited you to see him do his show. He had wanted to spend the holiday with you but had to work so he thought, why not both?
The night was going swimmingly, filled with laughter and nostalgia as he recounted events that had happened all the while playing incredible music tied with great stories either from him or his little listeners. You were in awe, seeing him in his element and thriving; it was a sight to behold. Hizashi was like a siren and you were the unsuspecting victim and it was honestly a sensation you wanted to happen more and more.
Midnight was a second away and he had begun the count down be saying various quotes and well wishes for the new year. You were simply enjoying yourself when it was down to the final 30 seconds and he spoke up.
“Alright little listeners the time has come! Just under 20 seconds until the new year! Grab your sweetheart, your best friend, your pet, and give em a smooch at the count of zero! And don’t worry,” he looks over to you at the 10 second mark and announces, you think, only to you. “I’ve got my girlfriend here to kiss so no kisses from you all to me, ya dig?”
He leaves his desk, clicking the right settings to mute himself so he can whisper to you. “What do you say? Be my girlfriend?”
You’re stunned and just nod frantically, unsure of what to do as you saw zero approach on the clock. Hizashi unmutes his mic and safely yells, “Happy New Year!” before quickly muting and bringing you into sweet kiss. He tasted like mint chocolate and the thought sent shivers down your spine.
It was weird to you that this year was going to be your first Valentine’s Day together, despite being in a relationship for a year. The previous year he had to work and you had a family emergency, so he knew to not push it onto you. But this year Hizashi wanted to spoil you like the queen he knows you are.
But Present Mic always had his late night Valentine’s show that was a hit and he couldn’t miss it.
When he told you, you smiled nicely and told him it was okay. And it really was! You weren’t too big on the holiday yourself but you knew he was. On the day, you woke up to an array of flowers and cute little love notes left all over your room. You giggled to yourself as you walked into the kitchen, knowing he was already at U.A., and you see something boxed up on the counter.
Hey baby girl!
I made your favorite early this morning, but I’m sad I can’t eat it with you! I can’t wait to see you tonight my songbird!
Your Hizashi
If it was possible to love this man more than you already do, then this might’ve been the tipping point. You were overjoyed at his little acts of love that he showed you, knowing he won’t be coming in until practically midnight and it made your heart flutter.
At the end of your work day, you had already gotten a few text messages and calls from him reminding you that he loves you so much. And when you got to your newly shared apartment, you were greeted by a gigantic teddy bear with balloons and another card.
Sweet baby,
I didn’t mean to check your browser history but I know this little, well big, guy has been on your mind for a bit. But check what he has in his paw! I’ll see you later tonight baby!
Your Hizashi
You’re relieved no one saw the happy and flustered dance you did outside your apartment door as you shuffle in all the items your doting boyfriend bought you. Once your shoes are off and you’re more adjusted, you open the envelope. “What!?” You yelled to no one.
He had gotten you tickets to a spa and hot springs for a whole weekend?! And it’s the one you’ve been dying to go to? You quickly dial his number.
“My favorite listener!”
“You’re gonna kill me Hizashi! I-I mean, the spa, the food, everything! God, I love you.”
You hear him sigh and hum contentedly. “Anything for my lovebird! And there’s one more surprise, but you have to be listening to the show at exactly 8:55 okay?”
You nod into the phone and tell him you love him again before hanging up. You were positive you had all the ingredients for his favorite meal and dessert and you couldn’t wait to make it for him and have it ready for when he comes home. The first time you had made dinner for him after a late night radio show was one of the softest and happiest you had seen him. And in turn when you’ve had late shifts he’s done the same for you.
You had decided to wait until later to make his food, so you watched a couple movies and ate some leftovers to tide you over before making your special meal. You knew it would take about an hour for everything to be ready and since he comes home around 9:30 these nights you began your meal prep around 8:30.
25 minutes later you tuned into his show while taking a break to change your clothes and put on a robe. While you were changing you heard his voice coming in loud and clear.
“Listeners, it’s almost time for me to go but I have a quick story, okay? Over a year ago, I asked my beautiful wonderful girlfriend to be mine and she said yes! We even had our first New Years Kiss then! We’ve been together ever since, but this is our first Valentine’s together. And you all know how much I love this holiday!
“Her father had passed away the week before so we didn’t do anything. I was honestly afraid to express how much I love this day but she constantly reassured me that it was okay. And so I waited, ya dig?”
You almost dropped whatever was in your hands at hearing him through your speaker. What, just what is he doing?
“So this year, I’ve gone all out! But everything I did, I kept her and her family in mind! I sent her mom and grandmother everything I had given her today! My girlfriend didn’t know that but now she does! She’s really the best, you know? She’s even supporting me working today and everyday! I couldn’t have asked for a better gift than her. And I know today is hard for her, but that’s why I gotta pump it up for her!
“I love you, sweetie, and I can’t wait to see you when I get home.”
Hizashi was more than eager to make it back to his apartment where he knew the love of his life was waiting. His show was more tiring than usual but he knew he could endure it for you. He had already washed his hair and changed clothes at the station before coming home. Before entering, he could already smell the food you had made and his mouth began to salivate.
He presses his way into the apartment, and was thrown off. You weren’t in the kitchen. The table was set with candles and the food but where were you? He hopes you’re not upset over what he did or worse yet, crying because of your father. “Baby girl?” He asks the air, but is relieved when he hears you respond from your bedroom. “I didn’t see you in the kitchen or at the table so I got concerned because I-“
Rarely is Present Mic left speechless.
Rarely is Hizashi Yamada left speechless.
But here he is, stunned into silence at seeing you, donned in what he dubs the sexiest lingerie he’s ever seen. Sitting on your bed, no kneeling, so he can see all of your body covered in lace.
You whisper out while your own hands roam your body. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.
“Come unwrap your gift.”
~~~~~~~~~
@cupcake-rogue @spicy-spooder
#hizashi yamada#hizashi yamada x reader#yamada hizashi#yamada hizashi x reader#present mic x reader#present mic#present mic x you#i did the thing#my writing#never been kissed#female reader#fem!reader#present mic x fem!reader
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Alright y'all, in honor of Valentine's I'm doing a quick break from requests and making a holiday post! Enjoy, and happy Valentine's to all from me AND the boys!
Relationship or not, remember that you are more then enough and I love each and every one of you mwah!!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💝💖💗
Imagine: what each of the boys would do as your Valentine
George
George would treat you to an at home spa day!
First things first of course, and that being a nice hot breakfast
But after that, it’s all you baby!!
You guys would take a nice warm (and scented ofc) bath together and just relax and unwind
Then when you’re all nice and clean, you go get changed into what’s most comfortable for you, ie fresh PJs, a robe, ect.
And then back to bed, where George has a whole set up that he’s been planning for you
A fragrent, but not overwhelming candle burns in the corner, offering a low, amber light
Nearby, a slow record plays quietly, adding the perfect amount of white noise to the background
And finally, a few rose petals are scattered on the freshly made bed
George invites you to come lay down, while he works some lavender scented oil into his hands
You can’t hide your excitement as you trot over to the bed and get comfortable
“Stop squirming now, you’ll tense up again!”, George laughs, as he respectfully exposes your back to the cool air
Somehow you manage to settle yourself, and George goes to work, rubbing slowly outward from the base of your spine to the curves of your hips
He repeats this gesture aaaall the way up your spine, placing kisses here and there to your bare skin and using his expert thumbs to gently loosen any knots his palms can’t stretch out
But before moving on, he makes sure to pay extra attention to the stress knots in your shoulder blades until they’re as loose as he can get them
He slides up to your arms, getting all the pressure out of the joints as he rubs from your wrists up, then down to your legs to help relieve the soreness from your day to day hustle and bustle
and when all’s said and done, you feel weightless from the relief and steady massage, ready to go back to sleep
George grabs a nearby blanket and drapes it over you, the warmth helping to lock the oil into your skin and muscles
He lays down beside you and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, and with but a soft whisper he says, “Happy Valentine’s, love”
John
For Valentine’s day, John wants to do something extra special!
But what?
He’s pretty good about being sweet and sentimental when he wants to be, but how can he turn that into a gift...
Under normal circumstances, he’d tell you that a day of good behavior on his behalf is a gift in itself
And while that could certainly be true, you deserve better then that
So, he does some thinking and goes for the one gift he can give that few to none have ever received
John works tirelessly and in secret so as to keep it a surprise
Judging on obsession and perfectionist work ethic alone, you would almost mistake him for Paul
But finally, finally it’s all ready to go
You wake up that day like any other, and you almost forget what day it is
John appears to already be awake somewhere in the house considering he’s not beside you
Then, it comes to you
Excited to see if he’s been planning something, you hop out of bed and go off to find him
If he doesn’t have any plans today, you certainly can come up with a few!
John hears you coming and catches you around a corner
You give a yelp of surprise as john picks you up in his strong arms and gives you a spin
He wishes you a good morning and happy valentine’s day followed immediately after by a smattering of kisses before he sets you down
“Now come on, I have a surprise for you!”
John leads you into the living room amd sets you on the couch
Looking a bit antsy, he tells you to close your eyes
You comply, and by now the suspense is killing you
At last John’s footsetps return, “Now promise you won’t laugh, alright?”
You gasp in mock hurt, “I would never!”
John sighs and rolls his eyes, but he suposes that’ll sufice
Fianlly you get to open and you’re... well, you’re lost for words
In John’s arms is a large framed canvas, and painted there upon it is a loving, beautiful rendering of a photogrpah he keeps on his desk
It’s of the first dance you and he ever shared
He carefully guides it into your lap so you can get a better look
“Well? Do you like it?”
You trace your finger ever so lightly along the curve of John’s painted back as he holds you close in the picture still slow dance, a soft smile drawn onto his lips
Tears well up in your eyes as you slowly put the treasured piece down
“John...”, you turn to face him, unable to get the words out
But you don’t have to
John’s expresion softeneds and he leans in for a kiss, “...Happy Valentine’s”
Paul
Paul also has a bit of thinking to do for his gift
His knee jerk response is to dedicate a song to you!
...Again!
And while he does start working on one (for later, of course), he decides perhaps he should think a bit deeper for today
But what can he do that’s more personal then music?
He doesn’t really have much else in the way of outstanding talent
(Or so he thinks)
Well... He definitely knows he wants to produce a labor of love for you
After all, he would go to great extents to make you happy, so whatever he can do to make that happen, he’d gladly do it!
So, he thinks and thinks, and at last it comes to him
He breaks out some paper and some colorful things to write with and sets to work
When the day comes, he preps a little tray of breakfast and nestles his gift to you along with the plate and utensils
“Room service!”, he knocks sharply on the bedroom door and lets himself in without waiting for a response
Slowly, you begin to stir at the disturbance, but you awaken for sure after Paul snaps the shades open
A stream of soft light floods the bedroom, forcing you to get up
“Paul, wha...?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”, he happily declares
He swings around to fetch the tray from where he left it, then crosses back over to your bed side
“Here we are!”, Paul lays the tray in your lap, then comes around to sit beside you
“Oh, thank you Paul, this is lovely”, still a bit sleepy, you give him a kiss then pick up your fork and knife
“Wait wait! Look at this first!”, he retrieves a small stack of what appears to be printer paper neatly tied together by the corner
You take it and examine it
The front has a big, poorly drawn heart done in red crayon with you and Paul’s initials written in the middle
Already a smile blooms across your face, which grows into a full laugh as you flip through each page
It’s a little coupon book of romantic favors, all written in assorted, Valentine’s themed colors and messy handwriting
Breakfast in bed, dinner at a restaurant of your choice, a massage, movie night, 5 kisses, and more are among your choices
“Paul, I love it! Thank you...”, you land on a coupon that says 1 makeout session, then shoot him a look
“...Can I redeem this one now?”
Paul glances at it and chuckles, giving you a sly smile, “Hm, I think I can give you that one for free. Just this once...”
Breakfast will have to wait ;)
Ringo
Now, Ringo is a simple man
He loves you very much of course, and would do anything to give you the best day ever!
But considering the gift is supposed to be something of a surprise...
That does complicate things a bit on what he should do for you, given that he can’t, you know, ask
He does a bit of thinking and even asks the other lads for ideas, despite the fact they aren’t much help
“How should we know?”, they say... Can you believe that?
‘How should they know’, how should he know?
So, he invests lots of thought into it...
All the spare brainpower he can muster...
And then... He’s got it!
He has to move quick to get everything together, given that Valentine’s is just around the corner, but he just might manage!
With everything set, he takes some time to get everything together for the big day, all neat and pretty
He even throws in some overtime while you sleep to spruce the place up a bit
The next day you climb out of bed in the morning and make your way downstairs
How strange that Ringo didn’t come to bed last night...
Not that you’re exactly complaining, that is
That man can snore something fierce
Hardly a few steps from the hall to the living room and you can already hear the good old sound of your boyfriend's rhythmic snoring
You yawn, closing your eyes and stretching as you round the corner, “...Dear, are yo-?”
But when you open your eyes, all you see is wall to wall of what appear to be handmade Valentine’s decorations
Sparkly, cut out heart banners, paper steamers, and a few clusters of balloons blown at various sizes are hung randomly around the room
Then, there on the coffee table, a massive bouquet of roses, over a hundred at least, provide a fragrant backdrop to a small teddy bear and a handmade card
You pick up the bear and give it a cuddle, then go for the card
On the front, two stick figures, one of which has been illustrated with quite a comically large nose, stand on a green hill with some hearts floating between them over their connected stick hands
The inside is addressed to you with a simple message of “Happy Valentine’s Day! Peace and love, Ringo”
You gasp and coo at the overwhelmingly sweet gesture, “Oh, Ritchie! Did you do all this yourself?”
Ringo snorts abruptly at the sound of his name and mutters, “Surprise!”, as he falls off the couch with a thump
Groggily, he comes to his senses, “Oh, uh... Happy Valentine’s! Uhm, D-do you like it?”, he asks nervously
You laugh and kneel down, your head hovering just above his as you give his forehead a kiss
“I love it”, you smile, and when you kiss him again, and again, and again, Ringo thinks...
Perhaps he did alright after all
#the beatles#the beatles x reader#john lennon x reader#paul mccartney x reader#ringo starr x reader#george harrison x reader#valentine's day#beatles imagines
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C3: waking dreams: master of fate
On A03 here. tw for grief/mourning, mentioned child death, and mild hallucinations. also miraak is high. you guys get to meet soskro and mirdein!
“Easy now,” the healer, Soskro, murmured, “Easy. Your body has had quite the shock.”
“Hmm,” another voice came, gravelly, rough with ash. “Just patch me up. I need to get back to guarding the temple doors. I don’t trust that those troublemakers have gone.”
Flame-soft light greeted Miraak’s eyes. It rippled warm orange over the curtains that had been pulled around his bed. A bed? It was warm against his body and held him like an embrace, like Mora had decided to dangle him over the ink-dark seas long enough that Miraak’s body heat started to warm the perpetually tepid rubberiness of his tentacles. There were no beds in Apocrypha, nor curtains, and vague notions of some distant past-dream warred with what Miraak knew – the only fabric was the ragged tatters of the seeker’s cloaks. A similar papery colour, these cloaks that wrapped around the world, but they had dried out, and there were no stains.
The healer and the patient were shadow puppets against the light, their bodies licked with slow-moving, peaceful tentacles that swayed back and forth like the sigh of the waves on the shore. Like the remote figures of lurkers, small as a scale on his gauntlet from the vantage point of his high tower, the bubbles they blew in the ink as they idled.
Miraak’s face itched, but gently, as if it was far away. His ear ached a little, as if he’d been laying on it for a very long time. His mask felt odd on one side, soft instead of hard, and the eyeslits were wider, he thought. All the added peripheral vision made him feel dizzy.
He wanted to close them, but he could not figure out how. Instead, he watched the flutter of the curtains in the soft breeze and felt the salt from the distant sea in his throat. The world seemed to inch past in honey-thick grains, each second languid, lugubrious, elongated as an endless rest among the murmuring pages wrapped in tame dragonwings. He did not need sleep, did not ever fully slip into the dark comfort of Vaermina’s realm, but it was… meditative, in a sense, to leave only one ear open for threats, and simply lie quietly for a time.
Sahrotaar was the best to sleep on if Mora did not have him within his curling knot of oil-dark tendrils, even though Sahrotaar was always a placid room temperature. Its scales were smooth and soft, circular, made for slipping like a knife between the skin of the water, and its finned wings would curl round Miraak with the most care, like he was a sea-pearl in the heart of a clam. The bones in Sahrotaar’s wings still jabbed him, and Sahrotaar would insist on sliding its big snout into the pocket of space it had made between its wings and its body, filling it all with the subtle reek of old fish and ink, but it was better than nesting among the ripped pages of books.
Miraak wondered where Sahrotaar was.
“Mirdein, you have a spear hole in your leg the size of a drake,” Soskro said with the firmness of an argument often repeated, “You’ll sit here til I tell you.”
Mirdein grunted. “Yes, muthsera.”
Miraak breathed on his own now, without the tube down his throat and blurry white mask-faces manning bellows to manually pump his lungs for him. The huffing of the bellows had marked his days in and out of silence, and though something had always felt faintly wrong, Miraak could sense the presence of another close by – one of his dragons, surely, keeping watch against the lurkers – that occasionally pressed into him with tender magics that made his muscles unknot and his body loose and limp. Reassuringly, it still hurt, and the insistent feeling of violation and vulnerability was soothing in its familiarity. Perhaps Mora was feeding him again, or taking from him, and that was why Soskro was there, solid as never before when they’d met in dreams, spoonfeeding him potions that left his mind dreamy.
Soskro had seemed proud when Miraak could breathe all by himself. He focused on it, sucking air into himself until he felt buoyant as a balloon, ready to drift away. Fly, all by himself, in windless Apocrypha, with no dragonwings to hold him up.
“Don’t be smart with me, wife.”
The gentle tones of Restoration magic chimed like the ringing of bells to call the priests to evensongs, and Miraak floated in the sense-memory and wondered vaguely if anyone would be mad if he didn’t go, because he didn’t think he had a mouth anymore, and he thought that was good for singing. He had eyes, more eye than he was used to – had there always been so much to see, to the left of him? – but dim memory told him that he didn’t need to see. Mora would be there, to see for him, see in him, see to him, and his voice oily-smooth would tell him what he needed to do.
The curtains were glowing faintly. He wondered if they were supposed to. It looked like dragonfire caught in glass, like the scales of a fire-drake steaming where it lay in the snow. Dragon eyes and dragon names slipped foglike through his memory, and though he tried to shape the words of forgiveness for forgetting the name of the beast whose hide watched him through the curtains, his tongue was busy holding in all his air.
“I need you alive,” Soskro continued, “not dead on the end of some Skaal blade.”
“It was just a training accident,” said Mirdein, dismissively. “Sulis got too close. Nothing serious.”
“Serious enough for you to be stabbed! Since when did training get so violent?” Soskro’s voice was loud. Miraak thought he might sing to calm the tensions so no one would get bitten or eaten, but there was no space around all the air in him.
“Tensions are rising, Soskro! No one likes being sealed in the temple and you know there’s been accusations-“
His vision was going grey at the edges. Miraak released all his breath in a wheezing exhale. The voices went quiet. He mourned them. Mora so rarely put on different voices to catch Miraak out anymore and send him hurtling down book-strewn paths chasing echoes of memories. It had been one of the games they played. Mora had laughed at it, but Miraak did not remember laughing.
He did not remember most things, these days.
“Is he awake?” Mirdein asked, eventually, and Soskro sighed.
“Higher than a netch in a skooma-barrel, but yes, I think so. He’s staying awake most of the time now, can’t get much out of him but nonsense and odd words, but I think he’s more or less lucid. Taking him off the illusions helped.”
The shadow puppets moved, and then the curtains parted like a wound. Furrowed brows like the iron trellises of Apocrypha’s bridges stared down at him, then a broad-shouldered shape nudged into the curtained off section where Miraak nested. Another shape on its heels, merging together and apart, then Soskro appeared like magic and pushed Mirdein into a chair.
“Serjo.” The voice of Mirdein was back, but closer now. Rough, and warm, like the scratch of Kruziikrel’s sleepy mumbles when Miraak stole a moment of rest on his flame-hot throat. There was a bandage wrapped around her thigh at Miraak’s eye-level, a bloody spot the size of a coin already soaking through. Mirdein was a big woman, big enough to make the chair creak when she leaned forward to get a good look at him.
Some impression that something was wrong tickled him, and his face began to itch unbearably. He tried to lift his hand to scratch it, but his arm was tied to his side, his hand immobilised in a thick swathe of bandages. While Miraak puzzled that out, Soskro leant into his vision and smiled at him.
Red, red eyes, like Laataazin’s blood over his hands, these elves had. He thought they were elves. Soskro’s left hand was golden, and clicked and whirred softly when moved, and Miraak knew that it felt cold and hard, like things that touched his face were supposed to. He did not move away when Soskro’s thin metal fingers touched his cheek.
“Here, Lord,” said Soskro, and then lightly draped a gentle kerchief of silk over his face. The itching soothed immediately, and Miraak sighed against the coolness on his skin. It was the wrong weight – he did not know how he knew, but he knew it was wrong – but it felt more right than before. More right than Mirdein looking at him.
Mirdein exhaled slowly. There was a weight in the shadow of her shape through the silk, a slump of tired shoulders.
“Have faith,” said Soskro, quietly, “He will recover when he recovers. We will hold out.”
“I am patient,” said Mirdein, dourly, but then her voice softened. “I – and my men – will keep you safe, serjo. Do not fear for my loyalty.”
“Geh, aam-hi,” Miraak heard himself say, as if through a very long tunnel. Yes, you serve me. The world shivered in response, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard the lonely cry of a dragon. Soskro’s soft intake of breath was one of awe.
Mora’s tentacles kissed Miraak’s nose on the inside of the silk kerchief, pulsed dizzyingly in his vision when Mirdein spoke again, firm as bedrock, “As you say, serjo.”
---
Frea clung to a jutting rock not far from the Tree Stone and squinted through the blinding snowfall. She had been crouched in the lee of the rock for some time now and her furs were dusted with snow, until she looked like nothing so much as a sleeping wolf taking refuge from the bitter winds.
Once, the animals had lived in the old ruin beyond the boneyard, wolfcubs whelping in the ancient rooms and birds nesting in the crumbling walls. There had been people, there had always been people in the temple, but only three or four at most, wary of outsiders but content to leave the Skaal well enough alone. As the Skaal had been happy to leave them; the cult of the Traitor could have their dusty ruin hidden behind the heaped skeletons of dragons fused together by time and the interminable movements of ice, no Skaal wanted to go near that wretched place. If the All-Maker did not move to kill them, it was certainly no business of the Skaal.
Of them all, only Frea had ever ventured inside. With the Last Dragonborn at her side, they’d carved a path through the temple with might and strength, to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of Frea’s people. The Traitor’s mind-snare was broken at the Tree Stone and the Skaal freed the night Laataazin had returned to read Herma Mora’s dark Book and confront Miraak – but the animals still had not returned to the temple, and Frea wanted to know why.
Frea pressed a far-seer to her eye and peered through it, hoping to catch a glimpse of swishing robes or patched armour along the top steps. Be they brigands, mostly, and honourless thieves, the cult of Miraak had grown hugely during the domination of the Stones. Yet, there was no sign of them, not even fat-bellied wolves slinking to their dens, or vultures drawn to the fresh carrion. Skorn had once cautioned the Skaal to stay away from the cultists and their dark magics, but Skorn was dead now to Herma Mora, and the burden of nurturing the Skaal’s spiritual connection to their land – and defending it – was Frea’s to shoulder.
And so Frea watched, and Frea waited, and the temple remained quiet.
Better that silence than the one in her father’s hall. The village was alive again, if weary and battered from months of gruelling work without their minds, and everyone felt Skorn’s loss deeply as their own wound. Their eyes were sunken when they looked at Frea for guidance, their hands thin and chapped with rough work when they touched her forehead, and though their hearts still were steady, Frea felt their grief and pain both as a stab of guilt to her own. Skorn would have served the Skaal better, but Frea did not know how to fix their nightmares for them or the days they had slaved that had been stolen from them, and though she could make tinctures for the rasping cough Oslaf had developed since a winter night at the Tree Stone she could not bring back the child that had died that night beside him, whose frozen body was found there still clutching his father’s leg.
Frea burned at the injustice of it. There was no guidance she could find meditating with the chants her father had taught her, well-worn as river stones in her mouth, no peace in trying to discern the will of the All-Maker in the dead that slept beneath the icy ground, but there was the fire of hatred in her heart, and that warmed her as she lay in the snow. Vengeance and safety in the knowledge that the temple was watched, and whatever scourge remained within unable to steal like shadows in the night to rob the minds of her people, she could bring the Skaal, if nothing else.
She dropped the far-seer to root in her belt for a pouch of cold-staying berries, her mitts awkward on the ties. Bags and bags of these she’d gone through travelling with Laataazin Dragonborn, whose southern blood chilled easily, and whose joints were worn with age and battle. It felt almost wrong to eat them by herself now, the tartness breaking on her tongue like a memory. But Frea was a practical person, and sentiment would not stop her freezing to death.
A shadow swept over the snow, and Frea blinked. A bird – perhaps, but no bird was so large – she fumbled with the far-seer, and jammed it to her eye just as the dragon passed over the temple of Miraak.
It was a frost one, it had to be, to fly so high, so fast, through the snow that Frea had not even heard the thunder of its wings. Laataazin had told her there were many different types of dragons, that they each favoured elements but it was best to assume all could flame and frost. Frea had seen them fight a dragon once, gripping her weapon tightly as she guarded the idle mage Neloth at Nchardak. Her heart had been in her throat as Laataazin taunted the great beast, evading its snarling and snapping jaws as it crowed slavishly about its master Miraak, and finally sent it to howling retreat with a final, bone-shattering blow to its leg.
The dragon circled over the temple, its head ducked like it was hunting for prey. It held something in its claws, she thought, for its right leg was oddly extended, not tucked close against its spiney body like the left. Unless – was this the same creature that Laataazin had chased off at Nchardak? It could not be. Had it returned to search the remains of the temple for its master?
Suddenly, from the temple another dragon rose on flapping wings, interrupting the lazy flight of the Nchardak dragon. This one was easier to see against the snow, the colour of a burnished ruby, and it spat fire a ship-length in front of it that the Nchardak dragon had to hastily dodge or risk charring. The two dragons circled each other, exchanging snapping forays too quickly for Frea to keep up with through her far-seer. They did not breathe flame or frost at each other, or clash fully, but instead danced around each other in the way Frea had seen wolves of the same pack play-fight – if a thousand times more deadly.
They tussled there in the sky for a while, but after a certain development that Frea could not spot from her position huddled in the snow some agreement was evidently reached, and the Nchardak dragon tucked its wings and dove into the darkness of the temple, presumably to land. As if flushed out like a hen from the sudden appearance of a fox, a third dragon, jade-green all over, rocketed out from the temple walls with a bitter screech. It was a horrible noise, and Frea’s far-seer tumbled from her hand as she hunched to protect her ears.
The screech cut off, suddenly, and through streaming eyes Frea squinted to see the two dragons left in the sky descending together, their blurry shapes quickly swallowed by the snow. Three dragons, solitary beasts one and all, roosting together in the temple, and one of them Frea knew had been loyal to Miraak once.
Tucking the far-seer back into her pocket, Frea rose stiffly, but cautiously, and crept away from the hollow she had made. She kept low until she reached the wooded line of the trees, then straightened, casting a last, perturbed look over her shoulder. Farani Strong-Voice would want to hear of this.
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