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suntoru · 4 months

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─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN <3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

#bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #rin x reader #rin x y/n #rin x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #bllk angst #bllk #blue lock #itoshi rin #itoshi x reader #itoshi x y/n #itoshi x you

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graphicpolicy · 2 years

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Around the Tubes

Some comic related news and reviews from around the web! #comics #comicbooks

The weekend is almost here! What geeky things are you all up to? Sound off in the comments below! While you wait for the weekday to end and weekend to begin, here’s some comic related news and reviews from around the web. Kotaku – Oops: Gotham Knights Briefly Ditched Its Anti-Piracy Protection – Doh! Kotaku – Marvel Snap Players Have Bot Paranoia (And They Might Be Right) – Who’s…

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#blue & gold #comic books #Comics #gotham knights #marvel snap #new mutants #star trek

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coldfanbou · 7 months

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New Sponsor, New Toy

Day 19 with Sana and Sullyoon. Things get rough for Sullyoon as she gets thoroughly trained and gets rimmed by Sana.

Length 2.5K

Sana x mreader x Sullyoon

Sullyoon walked into the mansion, nervous about meeting you. She had already signed the contract and would be the sponsor of your company's product, but there was a stipulation. One that she knowingly agreed to. At the very least, she felt calmer, knowing that Sana would be there to guide her. She waits in the living room, looking around for Sana. She thought she would already be there. You arrive first. “Welcome Sullyoon. Let’s get going.” You say, walking past her and toward the entrance.

“Um, I thought we were staying here.” She responds, reaching for her bag.

“No, I just wanted you to be brought here so we could go out together. Come along.” You tell her while continuing to the door. Sullyoon stands up and hurries to get by your side. She glances up at you as her pace slows down. The two of you get into a car that Sullyoon marvels at as you drive to a restaurant. She can’t help but look around the interior.

“Um, you mentioned Sana being here.”

“She’ll be at home.” You respond, knowing you included her because the company executives begged you. The car ride is mostly silent in terms of conversation; only the radio fills the air. Arriving at the restaurant, you first step out of the car and walk over to Sullyoon’s side, where you open the door for her. She steps out and takes your hand. She gives you a hesitant smile as she begins to feel more comfortable. You put your arm out for her, and Sullyoon hooks hers around it as you approach the restaurant. After giving the host your name, you’re quickly seated. Sullyoon looks around; the low lighting gives the place a more intimate atmosphere.

“What are you going to eat?” Sullyoon snaps back to attention once she hears your question. “You can eat whatever you like; money is no problem.” Sullyoon gives a slight nod and looks through the menu; she sees all sorts of dishes. Some of the more ridiculous were pieces of meat covered in gold. Sullyoon felt almost overwhelmed by her options and the thought that some of these meals could cost well into the tens of thousands. She ends up choosing a simple salad for herself. “Is that all you’re going to eat? You’re still growing; don’t be afraid to order something else. You could even get a dessert if you want.” Sullyoon takes you up on your offer, choosing a slice of cake. Your meal goes well, and Sullyoon feels much more comfortable by the end. The cake arrives at the end of the meal, and you watch Sullyoon enjoy every bite. Small bits of the icing end up on her cheeks. You chuckle to yourself; she was too cute. Once she’s finished, you grab a napkin and wipe away the icing from her face. Sullyoon gives you an embarrassed smile and thanks you. After paying for the meal, you head out with her into the cold night. You notice her shiver as she steps out and removes your jacket, putting it on her.

“Thank you.” She says before pulling the coat around herself. You lead her to the car, opening the door for her before getting in yourself. You start the drive home, Sullyoon feeling much more comfortable. “Tonight was nice. Thank you for taking me out.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but the night isn’t over yet.” Sullyoon cocks her head to the side, thinking about what you meant.

“Oh, Sana.” She says. Sullyoon had forgotten entirely about the older woman waiting at the mansion. You arrive later into the night, and as you get to the mansion's door, the door opens.

“Daddy! It’s been so long.” Sullyoon turns her head to see Sana running out of the mansion toward you, arms outstretched. She’s stunned to see the older woman naked. Sana gives you a big hug. “Daddy, I missed you so much. We haven’t been together in so long!” Sana says happily before noticing Sullyoon by your side. “Daddy, why’s Sullyoon here?” Now that she was standing still, Sullyoon got a good look at her senior. Sana was wearing a collar and leash, but other than that, she was truly naked. Sullyoon then noticed how wet she was. Sana’s juices ran down her legs, covering her inner thighs and nearly at knee level.

“She’s your replacement.”

“Stop joking, Daddy.” You smack Sana’s ass with all your strength.

“Get inside slut.” Sullyoon stands there, shocked at the sudden change in your behavior. You turn your attention to her and do the same, smacking her ass and telling her to head inside. Sullyoon heads off ahead of you, Sana right behind her.

“Sana, why are you naked? What’s going on?” Sullyoon asked, confused.

“Daddy likes it,” Sana replies quickly. “Whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets. I’m just glad to have a playmate.” The older woman says with a huge grin. Sullyoon still looks confused.

“To my room,” You shout from behind them.

“Yes, Daddy!” Sana says she rushes off to your room, dragging Sullyoon with her. The large room amazes Sullyoon for the moment, but before she can say anything, Sana is already ripping her clothes off her.

“Sana! Wait!” Sullyoon yells, trying to cover herself and stop Sana from stripping her.

Sana continues to try to strip Sullyoon of her clothing, “Daddy’s going to enjoy seeing you naked. You signed the contract, too!” Sullyoon grows quiet as she thinks about how she knew what she agreed to. Sana finally gets Sullyoon naked as she stops struggling. “You’ll like Daddy. He’ll make you feel good. Can’t you see how wet I am just thinking of Daddy?” Sana slides her hand along her slit, coating it in her juices before bringing it to Sullyoon’s face. “See, Daddy introduced me to a new world.” She pushes her hand into Sullyoon’s mouth, forcing her to taste the older woman’s nectar.

You walk into the room to see Sana forcing her fingers into Sullyoon’s mouth. “Sana, Sullyoon to me.” Sana rushes over to you and kneels. You see her smiling face, and she opens her mouth wide. Sullyoon stands in place, seeing your naked body, her eyes glued to your cock. “Sana, get Sullyoon.” Sana shoots up and pushes Sullyoon onto her knees in front of you. “Suck.” Sana rushes to your cock, pressing her lips against the sides of your cock. She glances at Sullyoon, who is still in shock. Sana stops and moves Sullyoon into place before returning to her side of your cock. Seeing that she wasn’t going to do it on her own, you put your hand on the back of her head and push her against your cock. You feel her and Sana’s lips against your shaft and revel in the pleasure. Sana knows what to do and places tiny kisses on your shaft as she moves to your base. She cups your balls and kisses them softly as she focuses on them. You move Sullyoon’s head to the tip of your cock and push past her lips. She tastes your cock for the first time, and her tongue moves around it. She licks at the sides without realizing it. You smile and groan softly as you feel her small tongue run along your shaft. You push Sullyoon down, getting her into a rhythm until she bobs her head. “Good girl,” You say quietly.

You don’t want to cum just yet, so when you feel like your cock is wet enough, you pull away from the two women. Sullyoon stays seated, her tongue moving around her mouth like your cock is still there. You walk over to the dress and grab a bottle of oil you left on top. Handing it to Sana, you order her to rub it on Sullyoon. Sana does so without a word; she first applies it to the younger woman’s shoulder before snaking her hands through Sullyoon's arms and covering her breasts. You watch as Sullyoon begins to moan; the oil has a potent aphrodisiac in it that would get her in the mood. You walk over to Sana and take the oil from her before picking up Sullyoon and tossing her onto the bed. “Sana, come here,” You bark. She rushes to your side. Grabbing her leash, you pull her onto the bed, getting her on all fours in front of the younger woman. You rub your cock against Sana's cunt for a split second before ramming it in.

“Thank you, Daddy!” Sana shouts as she feels your cock impale her. You pull on Sana’s leash, forcing her body up and lightly choking her. You smack Sana’s ass with your other hand, striking her repeatedly until you leave her ass red. Sullyoon watches her senior be fucked like whore and feels herself getting wet. Her hand gingerly moves down her body until she reaches her slit. Sullyoon makes small circular motions, playing with her cunt as she watches. Sana repeatedly thanks you for your cock as you slam your hips into her ass. You feel Sana’s warm and slippery cunt shape itself to your cock. After years of fucking she was made for you. You drop the leash and hook Sana’s arms, holding her against your body as you thrust. Sana’s body presses against yours; her breasts bounce with every pump. Her tongue hangs out of her mouth as she loses her mind to the pleasure. At this point, Sana was a sleeve for your cock and nothing more. Sullyoon watches her respected senior be nothing more than that, and it’s turning her on.

Sullyoon pushes her fingers inside her cunt; they squeeze her fingers as she pushes deeper. You watch Sullyoon finger herself and smile. She was going to turn out nice. “Daddy, I’m cumming!” Sana moans. You feel her core grow tight around your cock. You put your hand around Sana’s neck and choke her as she nears her orgasm.

“Cum for me, you whore.” You yell at her.

“Yes, Daddy, anything for you!” Sana shouts as she gives in. Her cunt clamps down on your cock as she cums, her nectar squirting onto the bed. You keep thrusting until Sana’s orgasm is over. Dropping her onto the bed, you move her to slide and get on top of Sullyoon. You caress her cheek. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She replies hesitantly. Grabbing the back of her head, you force a kiss. Sullyoon lets you explore her mouth as your cock touches her for the first time. You break the kiss when she’s out of breath. You lay flat on your back and motion for her to get on you. Sullyoon hesitantly follows your order and straddles you. Your cock is trapped between her cunt and your stomach. Sullyoon grinds against your cock slowly. Not satisfied with her pace, you place your hands on her waist and drag her back. Sullyoon squirms under your touch but enjoys it.

You can hear her soft coos as your cock drags against her cunt. You lift her up and adjust her position until her entrance is against your head. You pull her down slowly onto your cock, watching her body stiffen as you split her in two. You rock her back and forth once she’s pressed against your pelvis. Sullyoon’s mind goes blank now that your cock is inside her. She snaps back to reality when she feels something warm against her ass. She turns to see Sana between her cheeks, lapping at her asshole. The pleasure begins melting her brain, and it only gets worse when you start bouncing her on your cock. A slight bulge develops as you thrust into her. Sullyoon’s head hangs back as she continues to moan. Sana’s tongue pushes into Sullyoon’s ass, making the young woman moan louder. “Not my ass,” She says weakly. Sana ignores her and continues to toy with her ass, preparing her for what’s to come. Your hands slither to Sullyoon’s ass, where you strike her soft ass. Sullyoon yelps from the stinging pain. She continued to bounce on your cock, her pussy tightening around you as she came close to her orgasm.

“Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

“Me, too. I’m going to cum inside you, Sullyoon.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Sullyoon mumbles as you impale her. Sullyoon’s high-pitched moans fill the room as you flood her young cunt with your seed. Sana moves from Sullyoon’s ass onto your cock. She laps at your cock as cum leaks out of Sullyoon. You lift Sullyoon off you and place her on all fours. Getting behind her, you rub your cock between her cheeks before pressing your cock against her asshole. “Not there, Daddy. Fuck my pussy,” She groans, rubbing her flooded cunt.

“Get the collar from the drawers, Sana.” The older woman climbs off the bed and retrieves the collar, handing it to you. You place it around Sullyoon’s neck, making sure it fits well. “I knew you were a keeper. You’ll be the perfect toy for me.” Sana smiles, seeing Sullyoon become your new toy. She kisses the young woman, pushing her tongue into Sullyoon’s mouth. At that moment, you start moving your cock into Sullyoon’s ass. You feel the strong resistance but keep moving. Her tight asshole stretched as it tried to fit you. Sullyoon groaned from the pain, but Sana’s kiss kept her quiet. Her walls make pushing in difficult, but the pleasure was unimaginable. You’d make sure to dominate her body and make it know it’s master. Once halfway in, you ram the rest of your cock inside. Sullyoon yells at the sudden shock of pain. She feels like she’s going to be torn in half. You start thrusting; soon enough, the mixture of cum and Sullyoon’s nectar coats her walls making it easier for you to ram your cock into her ass.

“Daddy, please…” Sullyoon stops in her tracks, her head crashing into the bed as she gives in completely. You feel her anal walls clench around your cock as she nears another orgasm. You spank her again for coming so soon, but it's useless as her body shakes and she climaxes. You continue to use Sullyoon’s ass as your personal fleshlight until you're about to cum. Pulling out, you hurriedly flip Sullyoon onto her back and cum over her body, covering her stomach, breasts, and her face with your final spurt.

“Clean her up,” You tell Sana. Sana licks Sullyoon’s body clean, relishing the taste of your cum. Something she hadn’t had in a long time. Sana was diligent, making sure she got every drop and was nice enough to share it with Sullyoon by kissing her.

You continued to train Sullyoon until she became just like Sana. She would greet you warmly, standing naked with her collar on by the door. “Daddy, Are you going to use me again today?” She says while spreading her folds for you.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #sana smut #sullyoon smut #nmixx smut

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thenightcallsme · 7 months

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Do I Make you Nervous? | Simon "Ghost" Riley

little re-upload from my AO3 :)

Synopsis: When Task Force 141 is betrayed by Philip Graves, they're forced to separate. Y\N fights her way through the foreign Las Almas with a broken radio and no sense of direction. Yet, somehow, she finds herself in the same church her lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, seeks sanctuary in. As they attempt to brave the storm sweeping through the streets, the infamously unreadable Ghost challenges their professional relationship.

Pairing: Ghost x F!141reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, use of Y/N, hint of angst but resolved in the end, vague mentions of blood/wounds

Word count: 5,874

• • • • •

It was all a set-up. A lie.

Disappointment and anger triumphs any sadness over Grave's betrayal. At first, he came across as over-confident in that stereotypical male way. Over time I had warmed up to him. But Shepherd? The man who has given me the most freedom I’ve had in a long time? I admit that my use as a weapon to him has put a strain on our companionship, but to station me with my own cousin only to lash out unprovoked? He’s crossed a line that he can never come back from. The small liking I had for the man vanished as soon as shit hit the fan. Everything seems to replay in my mind. Alejandro insulted and detained, Johnny shot at, Ghost cornered...

There were too many of them to fight off. I couldn't trust myself to hold my own with my mind worrying over Johnny, Alejandro and Ghost while also plotting Shepherd's death. So, though it pained me, I ran. Ghost and Johnny did the same.

My radio was damaged in the incident. A stray bullet flew my way, and with a stroke of luck, grazed the radio instead of my ribs. The close call was enough warning to run, which is what I do now. The lack of communication only worsens the worry.

Shadows crawl in the streets of Las Almas like rats in a sewer. From door to door they go, yelling at innocent civilians in the late hours of dusk. From the conversations I've heard, they're looking for two foreign men and their female friend. They don't quite explain why we're being hunted, but the truth wouldn't change much. Every so often, a shot fires, echoing through the streets like a warning bell. A call of sorrow and fear.

With the Shadows forcing their way into civilian homes and raising their weapons against anyone who could harbour us, houses and shops aren't safe. The towering cathedral spires peeking above tin roofs and stacked houses catch my attention instead. Nobody would be inside at this time of night. For now, it's the best I can do. Also to my luck, the church isn't too far away. I take my time and keep to the shadows on my way. With a quick survey of my surroundings, I know I've bet the Shadows to this part of the city. That won't last long. The revelation has me jumping the gate within seconds of making it.

Inside the church is pitch black. Towering windows that tell biblical tales line the walls, casting light in intervals across the empty foyer. Rows of seats begin to emerge as my eyes adjust. Further back is an intricate, circular skylight tens of feet above the marble floor. Illuminating the altar below is a waterfall of silvery light. The giant cross, gold statues, and wooden altar glow like I'm looking through a blurred lens. The view is both eerie and magical...and not meant to be marvelled at in a time like this. My focus should be maintaining high ground. I begin to turn in search of a staircase when something shifts in the darkness.

A figure materialises, tall and built; easily a male physically capable of snapping my neck. My next best option is the gun strapped to my hip to parry the one in his hand. I go to reach for mine—

“Y/N?”

I freeze in surprise, but my mind eases slightly.

“Lieutenant? How—”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” He looks down at me with searching eyes. “You in one piece?”

“Yes. You—?” At that moment, my own eyes skim his body, only to halt at a worrying sight. On the left side of his waist, just above the waistband of his pants, is a blooming, dark red stain on his shirt. He’s been shot. “Jesus, Ghost. How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse—”

He stops himself at the distant shouting. The surrounding streets haven’t been quiet since I’ve been in the church, but this time it grows closer. Angrier. Ghost doesn’t waste time ushering me along in search of a stairwell. The one we find leads to the second floor, then a third. Eventually, we discover the central bell tower. The room is dank and cold and decently big. Suspended in the middle is a gigantic bell. Even in the dark, I can see how weathered the metal is. The worn wooden floors creak as we cross it. On each wall are arched openings that allow entry to the cold night air and terrified screams. A small cluster of discarded furniture draped in white sheets huddles in a corner. From here, we have a perfect view of the sprawling city and winding streets. To those down there, we’re invisible.

Simon leans back against a wall and grunts, his hands brushing over the bullet wound. He pulls back his hands to inspect the fresh blood. However bad it is, it’s still bleeding.

“Show me,” I say. My voice comes out more demanding than I intend.

He gives me a brief exasperated look but doesn’t push back.

Ghost sits against the wall with his shoulders slumped just enough to reach my level. His jacket is unzipped, his black shirt rolled up halfway. Those tired, piercing eyes and muscular arms are the most I've ever seen of him. It feels like a reward when the weather is unforgiving enough to chase away his usual long-sleeve or jacket. His arms are tanned and muscled, with a tattoo sleeve working from the wrist of his left arm up to his elbow. I’ve begun to accept that it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing him. But now I stare down at his bare abdomen.

The waistband of his black cargo pants sits low on his hips, offering a distracting view of a pronounced V-line and abs. In the moonlight, I can make out the reminders of war that mark his skin; a few silvery scars, some clean-cut, some gnarled and twisted; an old bullet wound healed closer to his ribs. The fresh one with the most of my attention is buried in a more acceptable spot. It nestles into the far right side of his waist, thankfully nowhere near any vital organs. However, it’s still a bullet wound and it still bleeds. That’s enough to worry me.

“Do you reckon it’s bad?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I’m dying.”

“But we aren’t in the position to get proper help. Maybe sit down for a bit.” Surprisingly, he does so without question. I get to my feet, draw a small knife from my thigh holster, and rip a strip of fabric from the white sheets. When I drop back down beside him, I take a deep breath. “Here"

He takes it with a mumbled thank you and wraps the fabric around his waist.

“You heard from John?” I ask.

Simon winces as he adjusts the torn sheet. “I radioed him multiple times. Never got an answer.”

“Are you surprised by all this?”

Simon leans back against the wall. “I tend to be less surprised by betrayal. But I had some respect for Shepherd.”

I sigh, shuffling around him so that I can do the same. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Survive,” he says. “Shepherd wants you alive. Graves will see to that. He can’t kill Alejandro, either. But Johnny and I…” He shakes his head. “Graves won’t sleep until there’s a bullet in our heads and Shepherd won’t care enough to stop it.”

There’s a moment of silence as I fold my arms and look away thoughtfully. How are we supposed to do this? The blanket of night and the ensuing storm may offer some cover, but getting out of the city will be a mission. I can’t bring myself to leave without John, either. My heart hurts when I think about him. He could be anywhere, alone and outnumbered while I sit uselessly in a bell tower.

“What do we do about Johnny?” My voice is quiet. Fearful. “My radio was damaged so I couldn’t reach out to him. Maybe his is the same. But not knowing… He’s the only family I have left. My only real friend.”

“Don’t worry about Johnny. He’s one of the most resourceful and strong-willed Sergeants I’ve dealt with in a while. Have faith in him.” He looks at me then, tilting his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say he’s your only friend.”

“I do quite like his girlfriend…” I murmur.

“And Alejandro? Ronaldo?”

I purse my lips as his question draws thought. I’ve been considering Alejandro and Ronaldo as allies. Companions. But I’ve grown quite fond of them. Considering them as friends would set me up for heartache if anything were to happen. So I haven’t… At least openly. Despite my attempts to create some distance in our relationships, my subconscious has decided for me. Those two are my friends. It explains the immense distress I’m battling over Alejandro’s capture.

“I guess so.”

“Me?”

Silence ensues from both of us.

His question stuns me; I was prepared for him to stop at Alejandro and Ronaldo. There’s nobody else in Las Almas or back at home that I pay attention to. Besides Ghost, at least. I could answer him in a second. I almost do.

Ghost is infamous for his detachment. He’s quiet, short-tempered, dangerous and mysterious. I’ve heard the comments that he suits his code name. Spiritual beings do not communicate through speech but through action. Ghost is the physical embodiment of the epiphany. Anybody able to coax a few sentences from him outside missions is admirable. Outside of that, his physical emotions require deep analysis and theory to understand. The mask only makes things more difficult. I’ve never seen him show palpable kindness through his aura or words to anyone, never heard him allow the use of his name, never heard him offer others insight into the raging whirlwind of his mind.

And yet he lets those things slide around me.

He lets me speak his name when no one is listening. He offers me comfort when I need it most — if not through limited words, through soft gazes and a hand on my shoulder. I’m usually able to get him talking. Sometimes I receive short answers, sometimes I receive enough to help me understand more of that whirlwind mind. He even occasionally shows pieces of himself that take away from the guessing game I usually play.

I shut people out because the last people I let in betrayed me.

I never consider answering personal questions, but you tend to have a lot of them. And every time you ask…I almost answer

I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.

All of it has me wanting more. More of his mind, his words, the soft gazes I’ve noticed are reserved for me. What I already have is nothing compared to every naked truth he could be telling me. However, what I’ve managed to coax from him seems to be more than he’s told anyone in a long time. At first, I marked it down as me being the only female on the team or Ghost considered me fragile. But I've proved myself, and nothing about being a 'fragile female' (which I very well am not) does not automatically give me all these passes. I now realise it is much more than that.

Never once has he called me his friend. I already have. Now it’s his turn.

“I don’t mind you, Simon, but friendship can’t be one-sided,” I say. While it’s a simple statement, a silent question hides between each word. Are you my friend?

“If it was as one-sided as you think, you wouldn’t be calling me Simon.”

My heart skips a beat. There. It’s an answer to my unspoken words, but it’s not plain as day. As usual, Simon tells me something that is anything but straightforward. There’s room for interpretation in his answer—something that is beginning to tire me. It’s almost as if the honest answer is criminal and he’s trying to cover up his tracks. Almost as if not speaking that honest answer can allow him to deny it.

I don't bother concealing my annoyance. “That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.”

“Fuck sakes, Y\N, I said it,” he says. His voice comes out both argumentative and exasperated.

“No, you didn't. All I ever get out of you is stuff that works around the truth. Stuff I have to think about to understand.” I'm crossing a line, I know. I just can't help it. “What’s so hard about admitting it?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is final. I don’t care.

“Does the truth scare you?”

His eyes squint, becoming barely visible against the black paint, the mask, and the low light. I can clearly picture a scowl jumping across the many faces I’ve imagined. While I want to flinch away, I don’t. Not for a second do my eyes lower, and not for a second do I grow offensive. I remain calm and collected, which I think annoys him more.

“You want the truth?” he growls. The accent of Manchester seems to thicken. “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t want to admit I think of you as a friend ‘cause I bloody well want to ignore it. For years, it’s only been me and I planned it to be for the rest of my life. Then all of a sudden you and your annoying cousin appear and jeopardise everything. The only person with an inkling of anything was Shepherd and I was fine with that. But now you’re catching up to him. You’ve so effortlessly undone everything I’ve worked hard to maintain.” The growl in his voice dies down the longer he speaks. In the last sentence, his voice is quiet, defeated, but a little begrudging. “And I knowingly let you.”

“If it was bothering you that much, you should have told me,” I say with a voice equally as quiet. “If I knew you didn’t want me to know so badly, I would have respected that.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I think about telling you everything. I may get pissy at you over your questions, but…” A sigh. The truth is shameful to him. “I look forward to them.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” I laugh a little. “It’s really annoying how intriguing you are. Not just your past and your face… When I’m not trying to guess what you look like, I’m refraining from asking you stupid questions. Shit like if you’re a cat or dog person.”

“Dog person,” he replies. Any hint of anger or annoyance has disappeared. “Cats have too much attitude.”

I squint. “You just don’t appreciate them.”

“You strike me as a cat person.” He pauses in thought. “You just remind me of a cat, really.”

I raise my brows, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you going to tell me I have an attitude?”

“Maybe. But there’s more to it.”

I cock my head in question.

“Cats are friendly. Independent.” His eyes shift and I wonder if there's a smirk beneath the mask. “Curious.”

“Was that another dig at my questions?”

“Yes. Now shut up and listen.”

Before he continues, I find myself turning my body so I can fully look at him, my shoulder against the concrete walls and my legs folded beneath me.

“There’s that look in their eyes that they know your worst thoughts. Your secrets. They’re also graceful. Got that high-class elegance about them. But they can be unpredictable, striking out when you least expect. Once they sink their claws into you…” His eyes search my face. “You can’t get rid of them.”

I look up at him in wonder, my mouth slightly agape as I try to find a suitable response. Nothing I could say would express the way his words sink in. I’ve always coined Simon to be the observant type, keeping to himself and remaining silent. But I never expected him to relay his finds. His usual short, sharp answers contrast the compliment greatly.

“I think…” A small smile curves my lips upwards. “…That was the most meaningful compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never. Now I have a question.”

“The floor is yours.”

“Do you have, like, Queen Elizabeth tattooed on your face? The British flag?” I grin. “Something mask-worthy, you know?”

“Why does it have to be something British?”

“Because there’s no way you’re the only Brit I know that isn’t somewhat stereotypical.”

Simon huffs a laugh. “No stereotypical tattoos. Sorry to disappoint.”

“A big scar, then?”

He tilts his head. “No scars that make me want to wear it.”

I raise my brows. “So you do have a scar?”

“Only one big one.”

“Good to know.” I nod my head with thoughtful eyes. “I’ll add that to a mental note.”

His eyes widen a fraction. The skull sown to his balaclava only offers the view of his painted eyes and nothing. Not even his eyebrows. I guess he’s raising them in question.

“How often do you think about this?”

I let out a long breath. “You have no idea. I change what I think you look like every day.”

“What do you think I look like.”

I go quiet in thought for a moment. As I said, the image changes… Only more frequently than I want to admit. Sometimes the change is small. Sometimes the change is big. I know I’m not the only one stumped by this, either. John and I joked over it once. He said things eluding to him being unattractive. A crooked nose, a huge scar, broken teeth. Every time he made a guess I would laugh, but never did the ideas seep into my mind. Nothing in an unattractive sense, anyway. Despite the possibility, I can never picture him as ugly.

“It varies, but…” I take one last second to collect my thoughts. “Without that skull piece, you have dark eyebrows. I imagine your hair is brown. And you’re eyes…it’s hard to tell with the paint, but they’re more deep-set and heavy-lidded. The balaclava is tight enough to make me think you have a straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw…” I shake my head. “Beyond that, I’m stumped.”

I can tell he thinks deeply about each characteristic. I sit patiently and almost wait for confirmation, but I know better than that. If he’s not going to show his face, he’s not going to—

“My hair is brown.”

I’m about to backtrack on my previous thought when he reaches towards the space between my neck and shoulder. In the frenzy that has been the last hour, my hair has come undone. The braid was unsavable, making me pull out the band and attempt a ponytail…only for it to snap in two. My hair now falls in dishevelled waves. A small part of my hair falls over my shoulder. Simon gingerly reaches for it, curling it between his finger and examining it in the low light. …Can he hear how fast my heart is beating?

“Not like yours. A few shades lighter, maybe. And that scar…”

Even more gingerly, Simon pulls one of my hands from its folded position, and I pray my expression doesn’t betray me. Rough, calloused hands press against the back of mine. The size difference is almost comical. He guides it to his masked face, working his fingers working around mine to spread them out. He drags my hand over his right cheekbone, across the hollow of his cheek, and towards his jaw. My mind is hyper-fixated on the shape of his face.

“Right along there.”

His eyes continue to search my face. There’s nothing but curiosity in the blue-grey of his irises. Curious at what, I can’t tell. Everything about this has my mind raging. The way he looks at me, the way he holds my hand against the black balaclava, the way he towers over me even when sitting down... The thoughts that surface are shameful. He’s your lieutenant, for Christ’s sake. Have some respect. The remembrance of his position has little help.

If anything, it strengthens the fantasies.

His hold shifts on top of my hand, the pad of his thumb swiping across my skin to stop on the inner side of my wrist and press down. He may not have been able to hear my heartbeat…but now he can feel it at the worst possible moment.

“You’re heart is beating fast.” He inclines his head. “Do I make you nervous, Y\N?”

God, is my breathing even? I can’t tell.

“You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Simon hums thoughtfully as his hand breaks away from mine and reaches forward. His fingers connect with my collarbone before finding my neck, exploring upwards in search of a pulse point. A shiver of excitement and nervousness runs beneath my skin like a ripple. His other hand slides over my knee and up my thigh. If my heart was racing before, this is a life-or-death sprint.

Slow are his movements. Calculated. He knows exactly where my heartbeat reverberates in my neck. Instead, he drags the moment out, coaxing out his desired reaction. But there’s something else in the slowness: a window for me to flinch away and draw the physical line neither of us has ever drawn. We’ve brushed shoulders and hands. We’ve sat with our bodies aligned in cramped cars. He’s held my hair back in a bathroom as I threw up after a panicked episode (something I would like to forget if he wasn't so surprisingly understanding). He's placed a hand on my shoulder for many different reasons. All are excusable moments. The ones that surpass professional boundaries can be marked as friendly. However, the intimacy of this moment is new. Scary. Exciting.

“Did you know your bottom lip twitches before you lie?” Simon asks. I find myself at eye level with him. When did he get so close? “I don’t like lies. Try again.”

“Sometimes…” I breathe.

“Sometimes, what?”

Bastard. “Sometimes you make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I frown. “I don’t know.”

He’s definitely leaning closer now. Not just with his head, but with his whole upper body. Out of the nerves Simon is so adamant on understanding, I retreat, only making it a few inches before my back hits the other wall. Simon half hovers over me, the hand that was on my thigh now bracing himself on the floor. There are only a few inches between our chests. Even less between our faces. Not once does he lose his connection with my pulse.

“Another lie.”

“I don’t know how to word it. That's not a lie.”

Simon drops his head so that his covered mouth hovers beside my ear.

“Good girl.”

Never has praise sounded so seductive. It takes every inch of concentration to reign in my self-control. I might have ripped off his mask then and there…

Only, I think he’s beating me to it.

From where his head hovers, I can’t see his masked face. The wide, strong shape of his shoulder obscures most of my vision. He retracts his hand from my neck to reach somewhere I can’t see. The sound of moving cloth widens my eyes and upsets the rhythm of my breathing, the uneven rise and fall of my chest barely brushing his.

Maybe he’s adjusting it, I convince myself. He has only ever offered you little pieces at a time. What he’s offering me now is more than he ever has at once. While my body screams for more, my mind knows I can’t expect too much from him. Whatever he’s doing now is more than enough.

“You’re breathing funny.”

The feeling of breath skims the shell of my ear and down my neck like a warm, ghostly waterfall. It takes me a second to notice a difference in his voice. It’s low, it’s rough, it’s teasing. All are easily noticeable and nothing new. What is new is the enhanced clarity. An added sharpness lingers in his accented words. The slight muffle is nowhere to be found.

I was wrong. He’s lifted his mask.

“Because you’re taking off your mask." My answer comes out in a weak whisper.

He doesn’t speak about the mask, instead repositioning his hand to my neck to find my pulse.

“If you can’t tell me,” he murmurs, returning to the previous topic, “your heartbeat can.”

A warm feeling presses into my neck. A gasp slips past my lips as my heartbeat continues to quicken and stumble beneath his thumb. Against my skin…I think Simon is smiling.

Nothing about this seems real. Simon plants slow kisses on my neck with his bare lips. They’re a little rough, yet soothing. Whether they’re full or thin, I can’t tell, but the lack of obvious signs paints an image of something in between. His nose brushes the base of my jaw. Just above the pointed tip is where the balaclava begins. I can feel the hard edges of the sewn-on skull pressing into my left temple. Light stubble covers his jaw.

As his mouth works slowly against my neck, my jaw, and my collarbone, my hand slides up and over his chest. I slowly feel his bare neck. Beneath my fingers, his Adam's apple bobs. Further I explore, feeling the planes of his skin. The stubble scratches against my curious hand. Raised skin runs in a line over the right side of his face; the scar. It’s thin and generally clean-cut. He pulls back slightly as I feel his face. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as my thumb traces over his lips. I was right, they are something between full and thin. His lower lip feels slightly fuller with a deep hollow beneath that curves into his chin.

When I find it in me to speak, my voice is breathy.

“Kiss me.” He seems to still at that. When his reply isn’t instant, I continue. “You don’t have to… But I won’t look. I swear it.”

Silently, he reaches for my hand. He holds his over mine for a moment as he did with the mask moments earlier. Then he gently pries it away. Cloth shifts in my air as he fixes the mask and pulls back. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I respect the decision. Simon looks down at me with lust-blown pupils. Mine must be the same.

He takes a second to examine me. My heavy-lidded eyes, my slightly parted lips, the way I slump beneath him, the glistening wet spots left on my neck. He whips it away before he speaks.

“Can I trust you?”

We both know the answer to that, so instead of saying the obvious, I one-up him.

“Do you want to trust me?”

Silence passes for a heartbeat.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “I want to trust you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. …Undress you. I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Then he moves.

My thoughts go quiet as Simon’s hands reach upward. When his fingers brush the base of his mask, I reach out and still his hands. The action takes both of us by surprise. For months I’ve been thinking about this moment. Just now I’ve admitted how much what he looks like takes up my mind. Now I find myself stopping him, but not because I’ve changed my mind. I worry that this will be something he’ll regret.

“Simon,” I say. “You don’t owe it to me to show your face.”

“But I do.” He inclines his head. “Now keep your pretty eyes up.”

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls it off in one swift motion. I take in everything I’m seeing in amazement, wonder, and bewilderment.

He’s handsome. He’s really handsome.

The ruggedness and confidence he carries seem to be etched into the planes of his face. A light stubble shadows his angular, defined jaw. Just as I had imagined, the bridge of his nose is straight and strong. His high cheekbones, deep-set eyes and smudged black paint create deep shadows. His mouth is wide. The shape of them is a physical manifestation of what I had imagined. With an average fullness, his upper lip is slightly smaller with a soft cupid’s bow. Tracing the angles of his right cheekbone is that straight, silver scar. His hair isn’t as short as most other military men’s. It’s a little messy from the mask and, true to his words, a few shades lighter than mine. I can tell that, the longer it gets, the more it curls.

I stay silent as I take him in, eyes wide. Somehow I find the courage to slowly reach out. His blue-grey eyes dart to my hesitant fingers. When he doesn’t deny me, I close the space, this time feeling him without needing to imagine his image. I apply a little pressure as I brush his skin, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, the scar tissue on his cheekbone, and the stubble on his jaw. His eyes train on me. This is one of the few times I cannot understand what I see in them.

Whatever he’s thinking, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I stare back at Simon. Not Ghost, Simon.

“I was starting to think you weren’t real,” I say jokingly.

He laughs softly. One side of his mouth quirks up into a skewed smirk. My heart flutters at the sight of it. When he speaks, it’s with that teasing tone that always had me imagining a smirk. Matching his expressions to his tones is a strange thing to see, but I love it.

“Is this real enough for you?” he asks.

I hum in agreement. “You’re a lot better looking than I imagined.”

He raises a brow in mock offence. “Do I radiate unattractiveness? I’m offended.”

“I never said I imagined you ugly.”

I draw my hands back, taking another good look at him. My amazed smile remains. So does the awe in my eyes. Now that I know how good-looking he is, it’s going to be hard to get him out of my head. At least I can’t scold myself over falling for a faceless man anymore.

“I guess if I die tonight… I can go a little happier.”

The way he tilts his head and looks up through lowered brows sends my mind into a frenzy. I’m used to the action with his mask on, usually with the sewn-on skull. Now, with every part of his face laid bare for me, the feeling it stirs comes tenfold. He gives me a fake accusing look. Beneath the teasing air he gives off, that desire remains.

“A little?” he murmurs. His face grows closer, giving me a better view of the hollows and curves and marks of war.

“A little not enough?”

His eyes dip to my lips. “Not by a longshot.”

Then Simon kisses me.

Eyes fluttering closed, I sink into the feeling of his lips against mine. Gently. Hesitantly. Does he expect me to pull away? How could he think such a thing when I almost seemed desperate when I asked him? My hands slide over his chest, slowly linking behind his neck as the kiss deepens.

For a moment, everything fades away. The gunfire, the screams, the impending death we may face any moment... All of it reduces to a meaningless blur. Suddenly all that exists is me, Simon, and the secret embrace we share. In our kiss is a million unspoken words; a tidal wave of passion laced with a bittersweet sadness. The talk of ‘dying happy’ is no exaggeration. We very well may die, and seeing his face and feeling his touch eases the painful thought. Maybe this way I can find him in the afterlife - seek out his mysterious eyes and lopsided smirk and spend an eternity together. Or perhaps there is no afterlife, and this is my last stroke of luck.

Satisfied with the knowledge of what he does to me, Simon lowers his hand from my neck. The pressure reapplies near my belt. His fingers timidly skim the bottom of my tanktop, pulling the tucked part from my waistband. My own fingers weave through his brown hair as his hand slides further beneath. My kiss falters when he finds one of my breasts. His hand comfortably rests over it, his palm slowly kneading at the flesh. A low groan builds at the back of my throat.

After a moment, we pull away, chests rising and falling as we take deep breaths. His forehead rests against mine and suddenly I'm wishing we could do this over again. Except I picture less sadness to tinge every word and action. I picture the safety of home, the warmth of a bed, a carefree air that allows us to just enjoy the other's company. Reality comes back in a painful rush.

“I don’t want to die,” I whisper.

His hand retreats from my breast at my words. Instead, he takes a hold of my waist, giving me a comforting squeeze.

“You are not going to die. Not today. Not when there’s so much more I want from you.” He adds the last part with a teasing, suggestive smirk.

He looks down at my lips again—

“Ghost, how do you copy?”

We both freeze at the sound of a voice, so caught up in the moment that the radio is forgotten. Both the unspeakable things and sorrowful thoughts flooding my mind suddenly vanish at the sound of a familiar voice. There’s an equally received look on Simon’s face as he reaches for the small radio.

“I read you loud and clear, Sergeant,” he says. “What’s your location?”

“I…don’t know,” John replies solemnly. “Streets are crawling with Shadows. Where are you?”

“You see church spires above the houses?”

There’s a second of silence. Then…

“I see them.”

“Good. Head straight there and come inside. No Shadows here yet. They’ll be busy going door to door.”

“Affirmative. I’m on my way. Have you got any word from Y/N?”

Simon looks at me, silently giving me the floor to speak. “I’m right here, Johnny.”

There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “Oh, thank fuck. You in one piece?”

“I’m all here. You?”

“Got a shot to the shoulder. Nothing I can’t handle.”

For the next while, Simon and I sit huddled side by side, guiding Johnny through the radio. I generally leave the talking to Simon. Listening to him speak and sinking into his warmth is good enough. Every so often, he'll say something that takes me by surprise. Sometimes it's a dad joke, either really good or incredibly bad. Sometimes it's something that alludes to Simon not minding Johnny. He never outright admits it, but saying 'I like you alive' to Johnny's 'so you do like me' speaks for itself. I smile at that. I have sunk my claws into him, and he's not going to be able to get rid of me till the day I die.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #mw2 #mwii #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n

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pin-k-ink · 19 days

Note

Cockwarming Ranpo 😵

temptation // edogawa ranpo

tw ⇢ mutual pining, food kink(?), teasing, fingering, making out, office sex, cockwarming, public sex, exhibitionism, punishment sex, squirting, dirty talking, unprotected sex

wc ⇢ 5.2k

a/n: when i say public sex i mean public sex

Ranpo Edogawa, the brilliant and eccentric detective of the Armed Detective Agency, was renowned not only for his unparalleled deductive skills but also for his insatiable sweet tooth. His desk was a veritable treasure trove of confections, always stocked with an assortment of colorful candies, decadent chocolates, and exotic sweets from around the world. Each treat was carefully chosen to satisfy his discerning palate, and Ranpo took great pride in his collection.

On this particular day, Ranpo returned to the office after cracking a particularly challenging case. The thrill of the solve still buzzed in his veins, and he couldn't wait to celebrate with his newest acquisition - a box of rare and exquisite truffles from a world-famous chocolatier. He had pulled a few strings and called in some favors to get his hands on these delicacies, and he had been saving them for a special occasion.

As he approached his desk, Ranpo's anticipation grew with each step. He could almost taste the rich, velvety ganache, the smooth dark chocolate shell, and the subtle notes of exotic spices that he knew would dance across his tongue. His fingers twitched with eagerness as he reached for the small, gilded box that housed his precious truffles.

But as Ranpo's gaze fell upon his desk, his excited smile faltered. The box was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, his brow furrowing as he scanned the cluttered surface, hoping that perhaps he had simply misplaced it among the scattered papers and empty candy wrappers. But no matter how hard he looked, the box remained elusive.

A sinking feeling began to settle in Ranpo's stomach as he considered the possibilities. He distinctly remembered placing the box on his desk before stepping out to discuss a case with the Agency's president, Yukichi Fukuzawa. It had only been a brief meeting, no more than fifteen minutes, but apparently, that had been enough time for someone to make off with his prized possession.

Little did Ranpo know that, just moments before, you had been passing by his desk on your way to the file room. A glint of gold had caught your eye, and curiosity got the better of you. You paused, your gaze drawn to the small, ornate box that sat among the clutter of candy wrappers and case files.

Unable to resist the temptation, you reached out and picked up the box, marveling at the intricate design etched into the gold. Your fingers traced the delicate lines, and you could almost feel the promise of something special hidden within.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, you carefully lifted the lid, your eyes widening as they fell upon the most exquisite truffles you had ever seen. The rich, dark chocolate glistened in the light, and the aroma that wafted up from the box was nothing short of heavenly.

Without thinking, you plucked one of the truffles from the box and brought it to your lips. The moment the chocolate touched your tongue, your eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. The truffle seemed to melt in your mouth, the velvety ganache coating your taste buds with a symphony of flavors - rich, dark cocoa, a hint of smoky vanilla, and a subtle note of something exotic that you couldn't quite place.

Engrossed in the heavenly flavors dancing on your tongue, you were oblivious to the sound of approaching footsteps. It wasn't until the realization hit you that you snapped out of your reverie, your eyes widening in alarm as they darted to the half-eaten box of truffles. Panic rising in your chest, you hastily snatched up the incriminating evidence and placed it on your desk, frantically trying to conceal it behind a towering stack of papers. With your heart pounding in your ears, you attempted to compose yourself, hoping against hope that your indulgence would go unnoticed.

Ranpo's mind began to race, his brilliant deductive skills kicking into high gear as he considered the potential culprits. The Armed Detective Agency was a small, tight-knit group, and he couldn't imagine any of his colleagues stooping so low as to steal his sweets. But then again, he had made no secret of his excitement over these particular truffles. Perhaps the temptation had been too much for someone to resist.

As he stood there, lost in thought, a flicker of movement caught Ranpo's eye. He turned just in time to see you, his fellow detective and secret crush, hurrying past his desk, your arms laden with files. There was a peculiar expression on your face, a mix of guilt and nervousness that immediately piqued Ranpo's interest.

His eyes narrowed as he studied you, taking in the slight flush of your cheeks and the way you avoided his gaze. It was then that he noticed the smudge of chocolate at the corner of your mouth, a telltale sign of your transgression.

Ranpo felt a surge of emotions - surprise, betrayal, and a strange, unexpected thrill. He had always admired your intelligence and your kind heart, but he had never imagined you capable of such a daring act. The thought of you, his sweet and innocent colleague, succumbing to the temptation of his forbidden truffles sent a shiver down his spine.

He knew he should be angry, or at the very least, annoyed. But as he watched you disappear into the file room, your shoulders hunched and your steps hurried, Ranpo couldn't help but feel a spark of something else entirely. It was a feeling he had been trying to ignore for months now, a warmth that spread through his chest whenever you were near.

Ranpo had always prided himself on his ability to remain detached, to keep his emotions in check and his heart guarded. But there was something about you that made him want to break all his rules. And now, with this unexpected turn of events, he couldn't help but wonder if fate had handed him the perfect opportunity.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Ranpo's face as he settled into his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. He had a plan, a deliciously wicked plan that would not only allow him to exact his revenge but also to explore the tantalizing possibility of something more with you.

He leaned back, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he waited for you to return. The game was on, and Ranpo was determined to savor every moment of it. After all, he knew better than anyone that the sweetest victories were often the ones that required a little bit of risk.

As the minutes ticked by, Ranpo's mind raced with possibilities. He couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him at the thought of confronting you, of seeing the shock and guilt in your eyes as he revealed your crime. But even more than that, he was intrigued by the idea of what might come next.

Ranpo had always been a master of reading people, of seeing beneath the surface and unraveling the secrets that others tried to hide. And in that moment, as he replayed the scene of your hurried escape over and over in his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your actions than mere temptation.

He thought back to all the times he had caught you watching him, your gaze lingering just a little too long when you thought he wasn't looking. He remembered the way you always seemed to find an excuse to be near him, to brush against him in passing or to lean in close when you spoke. At the time, he had dismissed it as simple admiration, or perhaps even a bit of hero worship. But now, in light of your bold move, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something deeper at play.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled Ranpo from his musings, and he sat up straighter in his chair, his heart beating just a little bit faster. He knew it was you, could sense your presence like a physical force as you drew closer to his desk.

When you finally rounded the corner, your arms now empty of files, Ranpo was ready. He fixed you with a piercing stare, his lips curled in a knowing smirk as he watched the color drain from your face. You froze in place, your eyes wide and your mouth slack as you realized that you had been caught.

"Well, well, well," Ranpo drawled, his voice low and smooth as honey. "If it isn't my favorite little truffle thief."

You swallowed hard, your fingers twisting together in a nervous gesture as you tried to find your words. "Ranpo, I... I can explain," you stammered, your cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

But Ranpo held up a hand, silencing your protests with a single, elegant gesture. "Oh, I'm sure you can," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But I'm not interested in excuses. I'm interested in retribution."

He stood up slowly, unfolding his lean frame from the chair with a grace that was almost feline. You watched him warily, your heart pounding in your chest as he stalked closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

When he was close enough to touch, Ranpo reached out and traced the smudge of chocolate at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You shivered at the contact, your breath catching in your throat as he brought his thumb to his own lips and licked it clean.

"Mmm," he hummed, his eyes fluttering closed in a moment of bliss. "Just as delicious as I imagined. But then again, everything tastes better when it's stolen, doesn't it?"

Your mouth went dry at the implication in his words, and you felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment. "Ranpo," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to-"

But once again, Ranpo silenced you with a look. "Oh, I know exactly what you meant to do," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in closer. "And now, my dear, you're going to make it up to me."

Your eyes widened at the promise in his words, and you felt a thrill of excitement that mingled with the guilt in your stomach. You had always admired Ranpo, had always been drawn to his brilliant mind and his mischievous charm. But you had never dared to hope that he might feel the same way about you.

Now, as he stood before you, his eyes dark with a heat that made your knees weak, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your impulsive act of thievery had been a blessing in disguise.

"Do you have any idea how rare and expensive those truffles are?" he asked, his voice still low but with an undercurrent of something that made your heart skip a beat. "I had to call in a lot of favors to get my hands on them."

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the floor as shame washed over you. "I'm so sorry, Ranpo," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know. I'll...I'll buy you more, I promise. Whatever it takes to make this right."

Ranpo was silent for a long moment, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost thoughtful. "No, I don't think that will be necessary," he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I have a better idea."

You looked up, surprised and a little wary. "What...what do you mean?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest as Ranpo took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I think," he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear , "that you owe me a favor. A very special favor, to make up for the truffles you've stolen."

Your breath caught in your throat at the touch of his fingers on your skin, and the suggestive edge to his words. "What kind of favor?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ranpo's smile widened, and there was a glint of something wicked in his eyes. "Oh, I have a few ideas," he said, his hand dropping to your waist and pulling you closer. "But first, I think we should finish what you started."

And with that, he leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of the truffle. You melted into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your cheeks flushed and your eyes hazy with desire. "Delicious," Ranpo murmured, licking his lips with a satisfied smile. "But I think I need a little more to fully appreciate the flavor."

He plucked the box of truffles from your desk and set it on his own, then took your hand and led you over to his chair. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he guided you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

"Now," he said, his breath hot against your ear as he nuzzled your neck. "Let's see if we can find a way to make this punishment a little more...enjoyable, shall we?"

Your heart raced at the promise in his words, and you couldn't help but arch into his touch as his hands began to roam over your body. The warmth of his skin seeped through your clothes, and you could feel the firm muscle of his thighs beneath you, supporting your weight with ease.

Ranpo reached for the box of truffles, plucking one from its nest of gold foil and bringing it to your lips. "Open up, sweetheart," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you part your lips obediently.

He placed the truffle on your tongue, and you couldn't help but let out a little moan of pleasure as the rich, dark chocolate began to melt in your mouth. But before you could fully savor the taste, Ranpo's lips were on yours, his tongue delving into your mouth to steal the truffle back.

You gasped into the kiss, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he explored your mouth, chasing the flavor of the chocolate. When he finally pulled away, there was a smear of chocolate on his lips, and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Mmm," he hummed, licking his lips with a satisfied smile. "Even better than I imagined. But I think we can do better than that, don't you?"

He reached for another truffle, holding it between his teeth as he leaned in close. Understanding his intention, you parted your lips, allowing him to pass the truffle to you in a sensual, chocolate-flavored kiss.

Back and forth you went, sharing the truffles between you, the kisses growing more heated and desperate with each passing moment. Ranpo's hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your clothes to touch and tease, stoking the fire that burned within you.

By the time the last truffle was gone, you were both panting, your lips swollen and your bodies thrumming with need. Ranpo's eyes were dark with desire, his gaze raking over you with a hunger that made you shiver.

"I think," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "that it's time for the real punishment to begin."

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and you could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath his clothes. Ranpo's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzled your neck, his breath tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "You're going to finish all of my paperwork for me, as punishment for eating my precious truffle."

Your eyes widened, a protest forming on your lips at the thought of taking on such a daunting task. But before you could voice your objections, Ranpo silenced you with a quick kiss, his lips firm and insistent against yours.

"And while you're working," he continued, his voice low and teasing as he pulled away, "I'm going to indulge in some of my other sweets. I think I've earned it, don't you?"

With that, Ranpo reached for a nearby jar of colorful candies, popping one into his mouth with a satisfied hum. You watched, transfixed, as he savored the sweet, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a way that made your mouth go dry.

Shaking yourself from your daze, you turned to face the stack of papers on Ranpo's desk. The task seemed even more daunting now that you were perched on his lap, his body a constant distraction that threatened to derail your focus. With a sigh of resignation, you picked up a pen and began to work, trying to ignore the way Ranpo's arms tightened around your waist, holding you close.

As you worked, Ranpo continued to indulge in his sweets, occasionally offering you a taste. His fingers would brush against your lips as he fed you a candy or a piece of chocolate, the intimacy of the gesture making your heart race. The sugary treats melted on your tongue, mingling with the taste of Ranpo's earlier kiss and creating a heady combination that made your head spin.

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself getting lost in the work, your pen scratching against the paper as you filled out form after form. Ranpo's hands began to wander, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on your skin through the fabric of your clothes. The very prominent bulge twitching beneath you making it harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

The longer you worked, the more Ranpo's touches grew bolder, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your stomach. He nuzzled your neck, his lips ghosting over your sensitive flesh and making you shiver. You bit your lip, determined to focus on the task at hand, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the growing ache between your legs.

As if sensing your growing frustration, Ranpo's hand began to drift lower, his fingers tracing the waistband of your panties before slipping beneath the fabric. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your slick heat, and he chuckled, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"Mmm, seems like someone's enjoying their punishment a little too much," he murmured, his fingers teasing your entrance and making you squirm.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to trap his hand, but Ranpo merely laughed, his fingers sliding deeper inside you. "Oh, no," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "That's not how this works, sweetheart. You're going to take everything I give you, and then some."

You groaned as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, the delicious friction making your head spin. "Ranpo," you breathed, your hips rocking against his hand as you sought more.

But Ranpo was relentless, his pace never faltering as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His thumb found your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with just enough pressure to drive you wild. Your breaths came in short gasps, and you arched against him, your spine creating a mesmerizing curve as you reached forward to grab onto the desk.

Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, Ranpo suddenly withdrew his fingers, leaving you trembling and aching with need. You whimpered, the loss of his touch almost unbearable, and you heard him chuckle again.

Then you heard the sound metal, Ranpo shifting you in his lap as he worked on his belt buckle. With a swift tug, his trousers were undone and the unmistakable feeling of his bare cock, hot and hard against the curve of your ass.

"Do you want more?" Ranpo's voice was thick with lust, his lips pressed against your ear. "All you have to do is ask."

You swallowed, the thought of begging for his cock making you burn with shame and arousal.

But the throbbing between your legs was too strong, and you found yourself giving in.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you, Ranpo."

You felt his grin against your skin as his hand slid between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your soaked entrance. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low purr. "Now, why don't you warm my cock for me while you work. That's the real punishment, after all."

With a deft motion, he lifted your hips and sank you down onto his thick shaft. You let out a strangled moan as his cock stretched you open, filling you so completely that it took your breath away.

Ranpo settled back in his chair, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You were impaled on his cock, the fullness of him pressing against your inner walls and making your toes curl.

"There," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Now, you can get back to work."

Your hand shook as you picked up the pen, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of Ranpo's cock pulsing inside you. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable, and every movement made you more and more aware of the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, and the way his arms wrapped around you.

But still, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, your pen flying across the pages as you filled out form after form. Ranpo kept perfectly still, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin and his lips brushing against your neck.

Just as you were nearing the end of the stack of papers, the sound of footsteps and voices in the hallway outside the office made you freeze. Your heart leapt into your throat as you realized that the rest of the team was returning from their lunch break, and here you were, perched on Ranpo's lap like a stolen treat, with his cock, balls deep inside your cunt.

Ranpo, however, seemed unfazed by the impending arrival of your colleagues. If anything, the wicked gleam in his eyes only intensified, as if he relished the thought of being caught in such a compromising position. His hands continued their teasing exploration of your body, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your skirt to trace the sensitive skin of your thighs.

The door to the office swung open, and you felt the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks as Yosano, Kunikida, and the others filed in. Their eyes widened as they took in the sight of you on Ranpo's lap, your skirt hiked up and your face flushed with a mix of desire and mortification.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Yosano drawled, a smirk playing on her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Looks like someone's been a naughty girl."

Kunikida, ever the professional, averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "Ranpo-san, this is hardly appropriate behavior for the office," he said, his voice stern despite his obvious discomfort.

Ranpo, however, seemed unfazed by the disapproval in Kunikida's tone. He merely tightened his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against him as he grinned up at his colleagues. "What can I say? She ate my truffle, and now she's paying the price."

The others exchanged glances, a mix of amusement and exasperation on their faces. They had long since grown accustomed to Ranpo's eccentricities, but this was a new level of boldness, even for him.

You squirmed in Ranpo's lap, your face burning with embarrassment as you tried to disentangle yourself from his embrace. But Ranpo held fast, his fingers digging into your hips as he kept you firmly in place.

"Now, now, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You still have work to do. Be glad they can’t see how much your pussy is drooling all over my cock."

With that, he reached for another candy, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. The others shook their heads, a mix of amusement and resignation on their faces as they settled into their own desks, pointedly avoiding looking in your direction.

You could feel their gazes on you, though, the weight of their curiosity and judgment making your skin prickle with self-consciousness. But Ranpo seemed oblivious to it all, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh as if he were completely unconcerned with the eyes on the two of you.

You bit your lip, a fresh wave of heat flooding your cheeks as you picked up the pen once more. Your hand trembled, the ink flowing across the page in an unsteady scrawl.

But still, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, determined to complete the paperwork and put an end to this torture. As the minutes ticked by, you could feel Ranpo's cock twitching inside you, his obvious arousal sending a thrill of excitement through you.

Just as you were nearing the end of the stack of papers, Ranpo's fingers found their way back between your thighs, teasing your sensitive clit and making you gasp.

"Keep working, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "We wouldn't want the others to think you're slacking off, would we?"

The others glanced up at the sound of your gasp, a mix of embarrassment and desire on their faces as they took in the sight of you, perched on Ranpo's lap and trembling with need. But no one dared to speak, and the only sounds in the office were the scratch of pens on paper and the low hum of the air conditioning.

As Ranpo's fingers continued their teasing exploration of your slick folds, your vision blurred, the words on the page swimming before your eyes. Your breathing grew ragged, and your hips began to rock involuntarily, desperate for more.

Ranpo's grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't focus?" he asked, his voice low and taunting. "Maybe I should stop. After all, I wouldn't want to interfere with your punishment."

You felt a pang of disappointment at his words, but you knew better than to argue.

"Please," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. "I need to finish this."

Ranpo smiled, his fingers never ceasing their teasing rhythm. "Then you'd better hurry up," he murmured. "Because if you don't finish soon, l'm going to take you right here, in front of everyone. And then they'll all know how much you enjoy being my naughty little thief."

His words sent a thrill of excitement through you, mingling with the shame and arousal that already burned in your veins. The thought of your colleagues watching as Ranpo fucked you was both mortifying and intoxicating, and the image of it made you even wetter.

Ranpo sensed your reaction, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he slid two fingers on either side of your swollen clit, pinching slowly and deliberately. "I bet they'd like that, wouldn't they?" he murmured, his voice a low purr. "To see how pretty you look when you come, how shamelessly you beg for more."

"Ranpo," you gasped, his words sending a surge of pleasure through you. You were so close, the tension coiled inside you ready to snap. "Please, I-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Ranpo's thumb pressed down hard on your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out softly, slumping against the desk as your juices flowed out freely, dripping down the leather chair.

The others stared in disbelief, their faces flushed with embarrassment and arousal as they watched Ranpo slowly pull his fingers from your slick folds, an obscene amount of your juices now creating a puddle on the floor. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied smile.

"Mmm," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "Just as delicious as I imagined. But there's one last thing we need to do."

Your heart raced in anticipation, your skin tingling as Ranpo's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"What's that?" you breathed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body.

Ranpo grinned, his fingers trailing down your stomach to find the spot where his cock was still buried inside you. "I think it's time we showed the others just how much you love being my little truffle thief."

Without warning, he thrust up into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out. Your hands flew to the desk, gripping the edge as he pounded into you, his hips setting a punishing rhythm.

"Ranpo," you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice strained with his own desire. "Show them how good it feels." Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you surrendered to the pleasure, your hips moving in time with his. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his arousal building with each stroke.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the office, the scent of sex mingling with the familiar aroma of ink and paper. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself get lost in the sensation, the pressure building in your core until it finally snapped.

You came hard, your muscles clenching around Ranpo's cock and drawing a groan from his lips. Your juices flowed freely, soaking the chair beneath you as you trembled in his arms.

"That's it," Ranpo growled, his fingers digging into your skin as he rode out your orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come for me."

You shuddered, his words sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

The others watched in rapt attention, their own arousal obvious in their flushed cheeks and darkened eyes.

Ranpo's thrusts became erratic, and he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. With a muffled groan, he came, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his seed.

The room was silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your limbs felt boneless, and your head was spinning, the intensity of your release leaving you dazed and sated.

As Ranpo's cock began to soften, you felt a rush of shame and embarrassment, realizing that the others had witnessed everything. But as you glanced around the room, you were surprised to see a mix of admiration and lust on their faces, their eyes locked on the place where your bodies were still connected.

Ranpo pulled away slowly, his arms releasing their tight hold around your waist. He tucked himself back into his trousers, the fabric damp with your juices.

"There," he said, his voice a low, satisfied purr. "Now we're even."

Your eyes widened, your cheeks flushing as you realized that the pile of unfinished paperwork was still sitting on the desk in front of you.

Ranpo's smile widened, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "I'll finish the rest. But only because you're such a good girl."

#bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd x reader smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #ranpo x reader smut #ranpo smut #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa

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mooshywrites · 4 months

Note

Could I request headcanons of giving and receiving flowers for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with gn s/o?

They so deserve flowers 🥹

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Giving and Receiving Flowers from the Tieflings

Dammon

Giving him flowers -

~ Dammon would be a blushing mess when you gave him flowers

~ He would immediately find a vase to put them in, setting the display in an open window

~ Though most of the shop seemed cluttered and covered in a thin layer of soot, the flowers and vase were kept pristine

~ Every customer who came in couldn’t escape Dammon preening over his flowers, telling anyone who would listen how happy he was to have flowers from his love

Receiving flowers from him -

~ Dammon wanted to be certain the flowers he gave you would be special

~ He spent half the day looking for the perfect bunch, but nothing quite fit

~ That is, until he had a brilliant idea

~ That evening, he couldn’t sit still as he watched you open the carefully wrapped box

~ Inside the gift was a marvel to behold. There was a delicate metal flower, shades of silver and gold polished to give the illusion that the flower was blooming with life, even kissed with dew

Rolan

Giving flowers to him -

~ Rolan didn’t really see the point of flowers, that is until you pop into the library, dripping and mud and holding up a bundle of incredibly rare blooms

~ He recognized the plants as the same he’d been searching for, unsuccessful for months. They were an important part of an alchemical spell, but it seemed they may be more legend than real

~ But here you were, panting from exhaustion but still smiling brightly and holding the damned things

~ Rolan couldn’t even make himself snap away the caked mud before scooping you up into a warm, thankful hug

Receiving flowers from him -

~ Rolan was much more of an experience man than a gift giver. He preferred taking you on adventures or showing you beautiful things than mere possessions

~ After your flower fiasco, however, he can’t help but return the favor

~ One night, he leads you to a creek side picnic, the only light being the soft rays from the moon

~ Your breath practically catches in your chest as Rolan whispers a spell, millions of glowing flowers blooming in ripples through the velvet grass

Zevlor

Giving flowers to him -

~ Zevlor was almost confused when you gave him flowers, so taken aback by the idea of you gifting him something like this

~ As soon as realized they were really for him, he was all smiles and soft kisses

~ He carefully dismantled the flowers, showing you his process of pressing and drying the soft petals

~ Afterward, he strings the petals through thread, adorning his home with drapes of twirling dried blooms

Receiving flowers from him -

~ Zevlor would bring you flowers all the time, practically every day if he could manage

~ It almost became a game for him, trying to find flowers that matched your eyes, matched your hair, even matched the sun kissed freckles across your skin

~ He prepared the vases himself, having a few placed around the house. One in at least every room

~ He enjoyed having something to remind him of you, a glimpse of his love wherever he was

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kaixokkiten · 1 year

Text

damn!! I forgot to play the Widow's Bite! ugh, cost me the game

#marvel snap #marvel snap screenshots #marvel snap gold #marvel snap variants

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gendertraitorleda · 1 year

Text

Tatiana Maslany for LA Times 2022 Photo by Yuri Hasegawa

#tatiana maslany #orphan black #clone club #mary page marlowe #she hulk #marvel #network on broadway #she hulk attorney at law #bbc america #grey house #woman in gold #grown up movie star #ginger snaps #two lovers and a bear #the other half #pink wall

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nocturnest · 9 days

Note

Heya sweets❤️

Im always so shy when asking for request 👉🏻👈🏻

I have this story in my head where the reader is Tangerines and Lemons Handler. Lemon adores reader. She does everything for them. Always fun and making jokes. Tangerine and reader have a little hate/banter relationship, but both have unresolved feelings for eachother.

And after one near death assignment, reader has to bring out her nursing skills. Stop the bleeding, stitching them back up etc. But reader is so frustrated with the both of them especially Tan. Because she cares for them and obviously loves Tan. And by almost loosing Tangerine brakes her composure and all her feelings come out.

Maybe fluff, maybe some nsfw?

Do with this whatever you like☺️

Have a wonderful day 🥰🫶🏻

hello my lovely friend! so sorry this took a while but i wanted to make sure i did it right! what a wonderful prompt - i love this idea! please enjoy and feel free to continue sending requests! 🥰

You loved the boys - you really did. In fact, it was hard to imagine a time when they hadn't been a part of your life, a constant presence that grounded you and brought both joy and exasperation in equal measure.

For five years now, you had been their handler, guiding them through missions, patching them up when they were injured, and providing a steady anchor amidst the chaos that seemed to follow them wherever they went. What had once been a professional relationship had slowly evolved into something far deeper - and when it came to a certain British fruit with a mustache, you found yourself unable to stay away.

You liked Lemon for his eccentricities and knack for always being able to sense people's intentions. It was remarkable how spot-on he could be on missions. You suppose you could thank his obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine for that...

Lemon, with his eccentricities and uncanny ability to read people's intentions, was a constant source of amusement and admiration. You marveled at how spot-on he could be during missions, his insights often proving invaluable – a skill you jokingly attributed to his obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine.

Just the other day you had happily entertained one of Lemon's rants about Thomas and Friends over earpiece for a good fifteen minutes just to see how long it would take for Tangerine to lose it. And he did as soon as you and Lemon started having a serious debate about whether or not Tangerine was a Gordon, to which Tangerine did not take kindly to. He insisted he was not anything near close to "that arrogant bastard of a train."

You could hear the utter frustration and offense in his voice, his mutterings of various curses, and you imagined how he must have looked all riled up - to the point that all you wanted was to see his face at that very moment.

Lemon was so honestly sweet - always playful. He always asked you about your day and remembered the smallest things about you. He also knew exactly what to do to push Tangerine's buttons, which you couldn't help but find amusing. Beneath his quirks was a true heart of gold, for he never failed to coax a smile out of you, no matter how bleak the circumstance.

And Tangerine - well, he was Tangerine. He was complicated, to say the least, and you couldn't imagine him as being anything else. Since the beginning, there had been this tension between the two of you - at first, the two of you were at each other's throats - swapping insults and cursing at one other. Lemon may have had to intervene on more than one occasion to get the two of you to snap out of it.

Something, changed though - not significantly but enough for you to notice. You suspect it had something to do with a very long-ass conversation Lemon had with Tangerine after a taxing mission that nearly cost them their lives. When you had picked the both of them up, Tangerine and Lemon had their raincoats covered in blood. For someone who was so vocal, so uptight, Tangerine was positively silent after that mission. He didn't insult you back and barely responded with anything other than one-word utterances - it was unnerving, concerning even.

You didn't like it. You didn't like seeing Tangerine so solemn, so hopeless. You were driving the car in utter silence and at some point Lemon had fallen asleep, or so you thought... Tangerine was in the passenger's seat beside you with a blank stare - he wasn't even looking out the window. No, he just looked straight on at the empty road ahead.

He had a cut on his forehead and a split lip, dried blood stains running down the side of his face. Without looking down, he was taking his golden knuckle-dusters on and off. You had half of a mind to reach out and steady his trembling hands as you were driving, but you were afraid perhaps of how he might react. And yet, despite all of this, you thought he looked as beautiful as you had ever seen him.

You called his name, cautiously and quietly. He didn't respond. You tried once more and he didn't give any impression that he had heard you. You had to do something. Anything to get him out of this stupor. So, maybe when you thought Lemon wasn't listening and had fallen asleep in the back of the car, you had started going off on some tangent about having finally read some of the novels Tangerine kept on going on and on about.

You mentioned his favorites: Wuthering Heights, The Stranger, Fahrenheit 451... Because if there was anything you knew about Tangerine, it's that he was passionate about classics to the point that he even quoted and analyzed fucking Dostoveksy in the middle of a kill on multiple occasions. Maybe the fact that you and him were both quite the book nerds actually made him all the more attractive to you.

As you continued to ramble about the novels you had read that Tangerine was so passionate about, the air in the car grew thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the steady hum of the engine.

You didn't dare look at him - part of you didn't really expect him to listen. So instead, you kept your gaze focused on the empty road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel as you spoke.

"I finally got around to reading 'Fahrenheit 451, you know," you began, your voice soft and measured. "I have to say, I can see why you're so taken with it. It's simply written yet so applicable to modern society and the dangers of censorship. It truly makes one think about what it would mean to live in a world without literature."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tangerine's head turn ever so slightly in your direction, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to process your words.

Emboldened by this flicker of response, you continued. "And I hadn't read The Stranger in a good while but it resonated with me particularly deeply this second time, Camus' exploration of existentialism and the human condition...I was drawn into Meursault's detached perspective, his ability to confront the harsh realities of life with such unflinching clarity."

A soft exhale, barely audible, escaped Tangerine's lips, and you felt your heart quicken its pace. You were reaching him, slowly but surely, pulling him back from the depths of whatever darkness had consumed him.

"But I think my favorite, at least so far, has to be Wuthering Heights," you continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"The way Brontë captures the rawness of human emotion, the intensity of love and loss – it's truly remarkable. And the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff - it's passionate," you said, your voice trailing off as you hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You could feel Tangerine's gaze on you, intense and searching, waiting for you to continue.

"Cathy and Heathcliff," you began again, your voice soft and contemplative. "They're... they're bound together by something... something powerful and all-consuming. Their love is - it's turbulent, chaotic, but it's also - undeniable."

This time, Tangerine's reaction was unmistakable. He turned his head fully towards you, his eyes seeking out yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. His eyes were filled with an indescribable emotion and his whole focus was on you. You met his eyes only to avoid them.

"You read them," he murmured, his voice rough and laced with a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. "Of course I did," you replied, your tone gentle. "They're important to you, and I wanted to understand why."

Tangerine's eyes remained locked with yours, his gaze penetrating and unreadable. For a moment, he simply stared, seemingly struggling with the words that threatened to spill forth.

Finally, he spoke, Tangerine's tone measured but with the barest hint of softness bleeding through. "I didn't think you'd actually read them," he admitted, a crease forming between his brows. "Those books...they're important to me. More than just words on a page."

Tangerine turned away, his eyes focusing on some distant point beyond the windshield. You could see the muscle in his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. "I'm surprised you understood them so well," he murmured, the words seeming almost painful for him to voice.

There was a brief silence before Tangerine continued. "I've always had...difficulty...letting people in. Connecting on that deeper level." His fingers drummed against the door restlessly. "But you - you saw right through to the heart of those stories. You truly understood it."

Another pause, this one longer, more weighted. When Tangerine finally spoke again, his words were clipped, guarded - as if he were struggling to maintain that protective wall he'd carefully constructed around himself.

"Don't read too much into it though," he muttered gruffly, shifting in his seat. "They're just books in the end. It doesn't mean anything."

But his eyes told a different story as they flickered back towards you, full of unspoken longing and vulnerability he was so desperately trying to conceal. Your fingers on the steering wheel twitched, practically begging to reach to him, to take his hands in yours, to tell him that you understood. That he didn't have to keep up this facade around you.

For a fleeting second, you saw a glimpse of the real Tangerine - the one who lived and breathed those books, whose soul resonated with the turbulent depths of Heathcliff and Cathy's obsessive love. The one who felt everything so intensely that he was forced to cage those emotions, to push others away for fear of being consumed.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Tangerine straightened, clearing his throat roughly as he turned his attention back towards the empty road ahead. His walls were firmly back in place, that flash of vulnerability carefully tucked away.

"Just drive, Peach," he muttered, his voice now flat and devoid of any trace of the rawness you had witnessed mere seconds ago. "We've got a long way to go still."

After that incident, you and him went back to quarreling as usual though it was less heated, more like playful teasing. And you could have sworn Tangerine had started looking at you differently. Sometimes you'd find him gazing at you for a few seconds too long and when you gave him a questioning look back, he avoided your eyes.

Maybe - just maybe - you weren't so immune to giving into the tension between the two of you either. When you tended to the cuts and bruises he accumulated during missions, your touches perhaps lingered a beat too long, savoring the warmth of his skin and the subtle catch of his breath.

And Tangerine, for all his gruffness, could not entirely mask the softening of his features when your gazes met and held for those endless seconds. The pink dusting his sharp cheekbones whenever you aimed a teasing barb his way hinted at vulnerabilities he struggled to conceal behind his prickly exterior.

The friction between the two of you had become undeniable. Every snide remark, every heated debate about classical literature, seemed laced with unresolved tensions that threatened to combust at any moment.

Perhaps it was reckless to allow these flames to be stoked, you mused as you studied Tangerine's profile while he bent over the mission briefing. But there was a thrill in dancing along the precipice, in pushing the limits of how far you could go before that line was finally crossed.

Lemon's knowing glances whenever he sensed the charged atmosphere only fanned the flames further. That grin curving his lips made it clear he found humor in bearing witness to the escalating heat between his two companions. If anyone recognized the forbidden yearnings you each harbored, it was him. And was eager, practically praying for the two of you to get your heads out of your asses and realize your feelings for one another. And that time would come.

The mission had gone sideways in the blink of an eye. One minute they were making their way through the compound, and the next, a hail of gunfire erupted from all angles.

Your heart stopped when the frantic voice crackled over the comms. "Fucking hell - Peach! Tangerine's been hit and he's losing blood!"

Lemon's panicked tones sent ice flooding your veins. You scrambled for the extraction vehicle, hands shaking as you attempted to program the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Bile rose in your throat at the thought of losing him...of losing Tangerine.

What felt like an eternity later, the doors burst open and Lemon staggered inside, half-carrying, half-dragging Tangerine's bloodied form. Your breath caught in your lungs at the sight - his pallid face, the crimson blossoming across his abdomen, soaking through the field dressings haphazardly applied.

"Oh god-" A garbled cry tore from your lips as you rushed forward, hands already working to strip away his tac gear.

Lemon made his way to the front of the vehicle as you were opening every med kit the back of the van contained for gauze and something to stop the blood. Lemon drove anxiously and way over the speed limit.

"Rheneas...you have to be Rheneas," he yelled, the words jumbled as he fought to remain calm. "Brave and resourceful, just like you. You can do this!"

You barely registered his nonsensical Thomas rambling as you focused on staunching the steady flow of blood. Observing the wound critically, you noticed that the bullet had gone straight through but shrapnel had been left behind. You had to start moving before Tangerine bled the fuck out.

Deep breaths, Peach.

“Tangerine,” you murmured, a quiver in your voice. He groaned in response but it seemed as though he was going in and out of consciousness. No. He would not die today.

You tried again, your voice more urgent, desperate, “Tangerine!”

Tangerine's harsh, wet breaths cut through the tense silence, each one a fight for life. His eyes fluttered open, fever-bright and struggling to focus on your face hovering above.

“I have to remove the shrapnel before I can stitch you up, alright? I need you to be strong for me.”

Your hand found Tangerine's, giving his calloused fingers a reassuring squeeze as you met his fever-glazed eyes. "I'm here, Tangerine. Just focus on me, okay?"

He managed the barest dip of his chin in acknowledgment, jaw locked tight against the waves of agony rippling through his battered frame. Steeling yourself, you grasped the forceps with a steadiness that belied the frantic gallop of your pulse.

"Deep breaths," you murmured, the desperation yet softness in your voice slipping out unbidden as your focus narrowed to a laser point.

With deft precision, you delved into the ragged bullet wound, probing for the fragmented pieces of shrapnel lodged amid the tattered flesh. A guttural groan tore from Tangerine's clenched teeth as you worked, his grip on your hand verging on crushing.

"That's it, just hold onto me," you coached, willing every ounce of strength into the man beneath your hands. "You're doing so well, Tangerine. I'm right here."

Tangerine's panting breaths had grown shallow and rapid, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of agony. You watched in rapt focus as a sheen of sweat bloomed across his brow, dampening the tawny strands that stuck in matted clumps to his ashen skin.

Then, with a final twist of the forceps, you carefully pulled free the last insidious fragment. Tangerine arched from the floor, a hoarse bellow tearing from his very core as he rode out the finality of the searing torment.

"Fuckin' hell!"

His hand clenched around yours with crushing force, fingertips digging desperately into your flesh as if you were his only tether in that moment of anguish.

"I've got you, I've got you," you found yourself chanting over the litany of his ragged gasps and Lemon's frantic reassurances over the comms. "You're okay, Tangerine. You're going to be okay."

At last, the tension bled from his corded frame as his body slumped back in total, wrecked exhaustion. His eyes slitted open, still burning with fever but now hazy with shock and blood loss. Tangerine's chapped lips parted soundlessly as his gaze found and locked onto yours with lazer-focus.

For an endless heartbeat, he simply held your stare, a thousand unspoken sentiments and emotions bleeding across the jagged planes of his face.

"Peach..."

The solitary word was little more than a broken rasp, rough and guttural. Yet it contained so much meaning - apologies and promises were woven into that single syllable that hung in the air between you.

Then Tangerine's eyes slipped shut once more as he surrendered at last to oblivion, his hand falling limp yet warm in your grasp. You stared at his deathly still features unblinking, his name echoing like a sacred prayer in your thundering pulse.

"Hang on, Tangerine," you pleaded, voice cracking as you rapidly worked the needle and thread through the ragged wound. "Please - please don't leave me."

Fumbling with the med kit, you quickly threaded a curved needle, hands surprisingly steady despite your inner turmoil. At the front of the vehicle, Lemon continued his soothing chants, something about diesel engines and Sir Topham Hatt, but the words were white noise in your ears. All that mattered was the fragile thread of life you fought so valiantly to preserve through each meticulous stitch. At last, the final knot was tied off and you sagged with sheer physical and emotional exhaustion.

Only then did your own harsh sobs spill forth, harsh and visceral. Burying your face in Tangerine's sweat-damp hair, you clung to him with everything you had, chest heaving with the force of your cries. Tears traced rivers down your cheeks, baptizing his skin with your anguished relief that he yet lived.

At some point Lemon appeared beside you, the door to the van wide open. His soothing hand smoothed circles across your shuddering back as you rode out the storm of emotion. His voice a soft murmur, words of solace about how you were Sir Handel, the reliable, brave-hearted one.

Somehow, Lemon had managed to coax you into helping him carry Tangerine into the safe house. How - you weren't sure because you were in quite a state. And despite Lemon's insistence upon you getting some rest, you swore that you wouldn't leave Tangerine's bedside until he woke up - at which Lemon gave a knowing glance.

At some point, utterly drained, you must have slipped into an exhausted slumber slumped at Tangerine's side. Because the next thing you were aware of was his calloused fingers brushing feather-light against your damp cheek.

You blinked awake groggily to find Tangerine's intense gaze drinking you in as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. His split lips curved in the barest hint of a smile - tired yet impossibly tender.

And that was when the floodgates broke anew. With a harsh sob, you flung yourself against him, face buried in the solid warmth of his neck as you clung with fierce desperation. He was alive - he was alive and with you still.

Tangerine's strong arms enveloped you, holding you impossibly close as his injured body would allow. His lips brushed your hairline in a whisper of a kiss.

"I'm here, love," he rasped, the endearment somehow freighted with a thousand unspoken vows and emotions. "I'm right here. I won't leave you."

Tangerine cradled you against his chest, his fingers tenderly stroking the tear-streaked paths along your cheeks. Each brush of his fingertips was a reassuring caress, a silent vow that he was truly there - battered yet blessedly alive.

"Shh, it's alright now," he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion but impossibly gentle. "I've got ya."

You nodded tremulously against the solid warmth of his neck, inhaling the achingly familiar scent of gunpowder and sandalwood that was distinctly him. Tangerine's arms tightened fractionally, and you melted deeper into his embrace, drawing solace from the steady thrum of his heart against your cheek.

For a while, the rest of the world seemed to fade away until there was nothing but the rise and fall of his breaths, the reassuring metronome of life woven between your entangled forms.

When at last you drew back enough to meet his gaze, the corners of Tangerine's eyes had softened with an emotion you realized now you'd seen flickering there for longer than you cared to admit - a profound depth of feeling he'd never allowed himself to truly acknowledge until this moment.

His thumb traced the delicate curve of your lower lip with a touch so reverent it stole the very breath from your lungs. "You're something else, ya know that?" The words were little more than a hoarse rasp but held a world of unspoken meaning.

Unable to find your own voice past the tidal wave of emotion surging within, you simply leaned into his touch. This earned you the ghost of a smile, more felt than seen, as Tangerine's fingers slipped into the strands at your nape to cup your head with achingly tender possession.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he drew you towards him until your foreheads rested flush, sharing the same tremulous breaths in the scant space between your parted lips. His eyes slipped closed, seemingly savoring this suspended intimacy in which all masks had fallen away, leaving only the exquisite vulnerability of surrender.

"Tangerine..." you breathed his name like a prayer, pouring every ounce of yearning and relief into that solitary utterance.

His lashes fluttered open at the sound, eyes blazing with an intensity that seared straight through to your soul. Then, with the barest tilt of his head, Tangerine closed that last distance and sealed his mouth over yours in a kiss softer than down yet more searing than any brand.

The world around you seemed to come to a halt as you surrendered to the achingly sweet brush of his lips, to the unbearable tenderness of hands cradling you as if you were the most precious thing on Earth. This was a kiss transcending mere physical desire - it was an awakening, a benediction, a binding of your very essence in that single searing moment of connection.

When at last you parted, foreheads still pressed together, Tangerine's fingers traced idle patterns along the pulse point beneath your jaw in silent worship. His eyes shone with naked vulnerability and something deeper, more profound - the promise of an emotion that would be reckless for either of you to put a name to...not just yet.

But in that moment, no words were necessary. The simmering glances, the heated banter, the pushing of boundaries over the years...it had all led you both inexorably to this point of transcendence.

Lemon's soft chuckle from across the van was enough to shatter the spell momentarily. Catching your eye, he offered a warm, knowing smile - the expression of someone bearing witness to the inevitability that had been unfolding between you and Tangerine from that very first moment of friction.

"Took you two long enough," was all he said, but you heard the oceans of meaning in his affectionate tone.

You laughed wetly in response, reaching out a hand in a silent gesture of inclusion that had Lemon rising to join you both without hesitation. He sat beside you both, grinning as you rolled your eyes at him. Resting your head against Tangerine's shoulder, you allowed your eyes to drift closed in solemn contentment.

Lemon speaks up, a thoughtful expression upon his face, "You know I still think Tangerine's a Gordon - bossy and stubborn..."

Tangerine scowls at that, "I'll have ya know that I am nothing like that fucking cunt-"

"No - I think you are," you begin, smiling cheekily, and Tangerine looks at you, tired to be sure, but with narrowed eyes and slight amusement.

Tangerine opened his mouth, no doubt to protest your cheeky comparison, but you laid a finger across his lips, effectively silencing him.

"Just listen," you murmured, eyes sparkling with impish mirth. "Gordon may be pompous at times, but he's also powerful, regal, depended on by everyone on Sodor."

Sliding your hand to tenderly cup Tangerine's jaw, you held his inscrutable gaze as you continued. "You're our Gordon, Tangerine. Gruff and uncompromising on the outside, but with a core of integrity and fortitude that keeps us all pushing forward, no matter what."

Lemon nodded sagely beside you. "She's right, you know. Why d'you think I give you such a hard time?" He flashed that mischievous grin. "Got to keep that ego of yours in check."

Tangerine scoffed, but you caught the barely perceptible crinkling at the corners of his eyes - the ghost of a smile he couldn't quite suppress. Leaning in, you brushed the faintest whisper of a kiss across the corner of his mouth, savoring the rough rasp of his mustache.

"Don't worry, Mr. Gordon," you teased lowly. "We all know there's a big softy beneath that gruff exterior."

A low rumbling sound akin to a contented purr vibrated from deep within Tangerine's chest as he nuzzled his nose against your temple. "Keep that cheek up and you'll see just how soft I can be, darlin'."

The heated undertone in his gravelly timbre raised a delicious frisson along your skin. You bit your lip, holding back a breathless giggle at his not-so-thinly veiled innuendo.

"Well now, I do believe that's my cue to make myself scarce," Lemon piped up, winking broadly as he levered himself up with a dramatic groan. "You two kids have fun. But not too much fun - we've got that briefing at 19:00 sharp."

His departure was punctuated by a rude hand gesture from Tangerine, which only made Lemon's wheezing laughter echo more loudly. You watched him go with a fond shake of your head, savoring the warmth and levity he'd brought to the tender moment.

Then you turned your full attention back to Tangerine, trailing light fingertips along the stark lines and cuts that mapped his beloved face. His gaze caught and held yours, open and vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before - the mask utterly discarded.

"So...Mr. Gordon," you murmured, lips curving. "What shall we do while we've got some privacy?"

Tangerine's hand caressed your jaw, slowly bringing your foreheads together with unexpected gentleness. When at last he spoke, his deep baritone caressed your very soul.

"How about you tell me another story about your favorite trains? I could use a refresher on just why Gordon's supposed to be so bloody remarkable."

You laughed then, bright and unfettered, at the unexpected softness cloaking his rough-hewn edges. Throwing your arms around him, you held on tightly, your face in his neck, all awash with a sense of rightness and belonging that you'd struggled to find for far too long.

@kpopgirlbtssvt @little-miss-dilf-lover @sebsbarnes @kiss-me-cill-me @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @spookyspecterino @liukangsgirl @azureseacloud @pretty-little-mind33 i really hope you guys enjoy!

#bullet train #tangerine #bullet train movie #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine fanfiction #lemon bullet train #tangerine imagine #x reader #reader insert #tangerine fic #tangerine x you #tangerine fluff

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shadowsingerofnight · 23 days

Text

So um, to be honest I don’t know what this is. It was on a whim, written in one go so don’t take it too seriously lol

It was inspired by this post right here, by @dawntoducks

Hope you enjoy!

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

The sound of the door slamming shut brought Elain back to reality.

Standing in the middle of the sitting-room, she glanced to the window, to the city beyond. Velaris was in full bloom, children running and laughing just outside. She could even spot some kites flying this and that way, guided by tiny, giggling kids.

She had always thought kites to belong in fairytales, somehow never considered actually playing with one. She marvelled at them.

She kept watching- stalling, as one little girl accidentally bumped into the big magnolia tree outside the gate and let go of the slim thread she was holding. A cry sounded, the girl immediately getting up and jumping towards the sky. Desperately trying to reach high, high, higher- like the hurt didn’t matter, like she just wanted to get back what she had lost. But it was too late.

Elain blinked. Once. Twice.

Her heart began racing, the rhythm akin a horse’s gallop. Frantic, but with purpose.

It was always like that, her soul recognising a song she sometimes could faintly hear herself. A poem that had existed within her since the dawn of time, somehow.

“Are you okay?”

Somewhere among the blooming trees…

Elain had never heard a voice like that. Not when she was human, not after. Non since she had heard his for the first time. A voice so stark and yet warm. So deep and yet melodious.

She could feel it, tingling on her skin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, still not looking at him.

Outside, on a magic wind, the girl’s kite flew right back in her arms. Elain smiled faintly.

“I… felt something,” he replied. “Like you were calling for me.”

She was? Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised her. Elain still didn’t quite understand how this whole thing worked. But could he actually feel when she was thinking about him?

It was quite a lot.

“That’s why I thought you were in danger.” He went on, “I assumed it was the only way you could call for help.” His tone was low, steady. Like he didn’t want to scare her away.

Because I know it wouldn’t be me you’d call if you could help it.

She hated that he didn’t understand. She hated that she could not bring herself to tell him the truth, how his smile was the first thing she saw in the morning. That his laugh sounded in her ears with every step she took. That his hands were what she imagined when she… Red stained her cheeks.

She hadn’t yet looked at him, but she could just see his head dip to the side as if wondering what she was thinking about. Or rather, was she really thinking about what he suspected?

At the top of the tallest mountain…

“Elain,” he whispered and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Elain furrowed her brows, but her chin remained dipped.

He sighed unevenly and then spat, voice higher, “I’m sorry the Cauldron made me your mate. I’m sorry I’m so abhorrent you can’t even look at me. Just tell me you’re fine and I’ll go.” His arms slackened at his sides. Defeated.

Elain’s head snapped towards him then. Her eyes met one of russet and one of gold, like the brightest of suns on a fall day. She saw the tears first, the same ones she could feel marking her own cheeks.

In the depths of all the seas…

“You-,” she sniffed. “You stupid, stupid prick.”

She saw his eyes widen the instant she closed the distance between them and pointed an accusatory finger to his chest.

“You know nothing!” She yelled. Actually yelled.

Elain wiped some of the tears away, but they kept coming like an overflowing river. Feelings buried so deep came afloat.

“Don’t you understand I can’t look at you?” She demanded more than asked.

“How can you not see I’m burning?” Her index finger kept poking his chest of its own volition while his face had paled alarmingly. He was looking down at her, tears glistening in the light.

On a journey so certain…

“You think I don’t feel anything”? Elain sniffed again. “Well, you’re so terribly wrong! I feel so much every time I look at you, I don’t know what to do.” Words were flowing and she didn’t even have to think them.

“You live with me every second of every day. You render me useless every time I think of you because all I want is to touch you and kiss you and hold you and never let go.”

He caught her wrist and flattened her hand above his heart. It was beating so fast.

“I want you, Lucien.” She could feel him tremble underneath her palm, just when he closed his eyes as to savour her words. “I just don’t want to burn you.”

Lucien smiled, so sweet and wicked at the same time, eyes so full of hope she cursed herself for not telling him sooner. “Didn’t you hear?” He whispered, his breath caressing her neck. “I’m the Lord of Flames.”

I search for light and I find you.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarah j maas #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucien fic

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folkloresthings · 9 months

Note

Pride and prejudice - gold rush again with seb because there's something about that man lures everyone like oh god... Is there something wrong with me(probs)

anon you’re so right. this is short i’m sorry

GOLD RUSH. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

sebastian vettel was the golden boy of formula one. everyone loved him — his good looks, his charm, his cheek. he was intoxicating, a thing to be marvelled at both in and out of the car. he was the sun and no amount of warnings would stop you from looking straight at him.

you didn’t like that all of these people adored him. you knew that any amount of fans would die to feel his touch, that there were thousands of people ready to take him from you. and yet, when he looked at you with that smile of his, there was nothing to worry about. no one could take that away.

“you did it again, baby,” you squeal, hugging him tightly as he picks you up from the ground. he’s in his race suit, still, waiting to head out onto the podium. “i’m so proud of you.”

sebastian grins, pressing a handful of kisses to your lips. he squeezes you again, glee shining in his eyes. “i love you so much, leibling.”

a small reminder, before he goes off to bathe in the glory. you watch him from the side of the stage, snapping a few photos, squeezing yourself to the front so you can get the best view of your lover.

the crowds are screaming for him, and you don’t blame him. he’s grinning from ear to ear, the sunlight bathing him in gold. a trophy in one hand, a bottle of champagne in the other. despite being drenched in the champagne spray, his hair still falls perfectly into place.

the fans scream, the photographers catch picture after picture, the journalists scramble for the smallest word from him. you always feel that sense of possession creeping back in then. everybody wants him.

but when he stands on top of the podium and searches the crowd for your eyes, finding you and smiling so brightly, you know. he’s yours, wholeheartedly. and he always will be.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel blurb

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 9 months

Note

Could I please request some modern Thranduil smut? 🔥🔥 I don't care what about ❤ thank you so much

Hello! I hope you don't mind that I picked one of my prompts for this.

Pairing: Modern Thranduil x Fem. Reader (second person POV) | Prompt: Golden

Themes: Smut (lemon) | Soft

Word count: 900+ words

Summary: What happens when curiosity gets the better of you, and Thranduil is woken up just after sunrise?

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

The rising sun limned the world in shreds of pure gold. Towers great and small looked golden and glorious, as if they had been taken from a painting.

Thranduil paid no mind to it. His attention was on the more pleasurable diversion at hand. His hair spilled over his shoulders like golden silk. His arms shook from exertion. His eyes glittered in the rays of the rising sun. And he heaved over you, ripping a gasp out of you by smacking your thigh.

"Open your eyes," he orders icily. "I want you to look at my face while I fuck you."

You obeyed, letting out a soft moan when he snapped his hips against the insides of your thighs. "But it’s so hard," you protest, "and you feel so good. Can I please close my eyes a little?"

Thranduil responded with another sharp smack that sent electrifying jolts lickings up your spine. "Obey me in this. There," he coos when you open your eyes and look at him. "That’s it. Keep your eyes on me, my needy little kitten, and I will reward you."

He gave you no time to even breathe when he captured your lips with his. Thranduil groaned into your mouth when your nails raked down his shoulders and your heels dug into his back, as if you were urging him to go harder. The sheets had been thrown from the bed because they got in the way, as had the pillows. The bed itself creaked softly in time with his thrusts, and the sinful sounds of jagged breaths and skin slapping against skin rose to drown it out. Thranduil laughed when you fussed about having to keep your eyes open.

"It's your own fault," he retorted, "for waking me up so fucking early by playing with my cock. Now you must suffer the consequences."

Another sharp gasp ripped through you when he reddened your thigh with the flat of his palm. Upon your moan, Thranduil hissed, "Harder?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. That was what you said, like a desperate chant, a plea for more. Thranduil let out a deep, otherworldly sound.

"Look at you," he purrs against your ear, "yielding so easily to my touch and surrendering eagerly to my will."

Thranduil smirked and rewarded you all the same, his hand working in time with his thrusts. Your flesh grew red and tender. You had brought it on yourself, letting your curiosity best you that morning. Having woken up before sunrise, you ran your hand over Thranduil's exposed body, marveling at how perfect he looked even while he slept. Your hand glided over his soft lips and softer hair and hardened muscle, before sneaking under the coverlet and gliding over his cock. Thranduil had moaned and mumbled in his sleep. You grew bolder still, stroking his length slowly and gently, feeling smug when it swelled and hardened for the warmth of your palm. Thranduil whimpered and moved onto his back. You continued to stroke him, wondering if he would like being woken up like this, with you pleasuring him. You didn't stop until the room had grown eerily still and you turned to face him. He had woken up and was watching you, his eyes ablaze, his lips tugging at the corners.

Now you were paying for being too curious for your own damn good. And you enjoyed it. White-hot jolts of ecstasy rippled through you every time he spanked a little harder and grabbed your thigh, your hip. His nails left little red indents in their wake. Every time you moaned, every time you arched your back or dug your nails into his skin. Thranduil would fuck you a little faster, go a little harder, a little deeper. And you were being pulled with the tide into a dark tunnel of desire, your velvety walls fluttering and tightening around his thick shaft. Wave after wave of bliss rippled through your body even as he kissed you, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to delve into the sinful warmth of your mouth. He sighed wistfully when your hands brushed through his hair. Sweet tension soon pooled in his belly.

"I am close," he breathed, his voice thick and hoarse. The heat of his breath spread over the shell of your ear. Your body prickled, and fresh arousal seeped onto his cock. Thranduil moaned and swore lustily.

"Fuck."

Your legs scrabbled for purchase against his hips. Heat bloomed and spread just beneath the expanse of your skin when your muscles tightened and coiled.

"So am I!" You cried, sobbing his name, when he thrust deep and sent you over the edge. You kept your eyes on him, on the myriad of expressions that flashed in his blue ones. There was fire and greed and hunger, and even smug satisfaction. You feasted on it all, even as your orgasm neared. Tranduil didn't stop. He kept up his torturous pace, thrusting as deep as he could go, his moans as desperate as yours.

Now, you want to cry. Let it be now.

On the next breath, you shuddered and gasped, splintering and shattering when rapture crashed over you like a great wave. You cried out his name again, pleading for him not to stop. Thranduil kept rutting into you, his hips burning, dipping his head and nipping at your throat when that sweet tension within him erupted and he spilt a torrent of his spend in your slit. He moaned again and again, continuing to thrust until he was utterly spent.

You barely remembered the next minute or two. Everything was a delicious blur. Thranduil gently eased himself off you, moving to his side and pulling you with him. The sun had risen higher in the sky. The bedroom filled with beautiful early morning light while Thranduil pressed tender kisses against your lips. He touched your hair, your cheek. He traced delicate lines over your eyelids.

"Do not hesitate to wake me up like that again," he smiled and said.

#thranduil #modern thranduil #thranduil smut #thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit smut #the hobbit imagine #💫a world of whimsy writes

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goldennikko · 1 year

Text

MY NUMBER — kim chaewon

summary : you and chaewon meet for the first time at a restaurant. however, the waiter in charge of the group made a serious error and you were forced to intervene. she didn't get your phone number that night, but the label hosted a party to which you were invited.

pairing : chaewon x jung!reader

tags : f!reader ; lots of gay panicking ; lots of awkward moments ; friends as matchmakers

requested: ✔

word count : 3.9k

"unnie, we're here."

chaewon woke up to kazuha nudging her and she grumbled in response, but she managed to climb out of the van with the help of sakura. the short-haired girl squinted at the bright sign, trying to read the name of the restaurant yunjin had discovered the day before.

le lieu royal.

"what does it mean?" the leader heard eunchae ask yunjin and the american was quick to respond, sounding excited. "the royal palace."

sounds really fancy, chaewon commended.

yunjin led the way inside, where a waiter led them to the table she had reserved for the group. the girls marveled at the restaurant's interior design: red and black were the dominant colors, with a hint of gold thrown in here and there.

"it looks really good here." sakura commented as she adjusted her seat. kazuha nodded from beside yunjin, who flicked her hair back with a proud grin.

"how did you find this?" chaewon asked curiously.

"apparently, this restaurant is well-known among idols, particularly hybe artists. i just don't know how so." yunjin answered with a shrug.

the previous waiter reappeared, smiling as he handed them the menu. the girls thanked him, and he bowed before leaving to attend to other customers, who happened to be an artist. the girls' heads turned as eunchae's eyes widened and subtly pointed at a guy.

"isn't that jungkook sunbaenim?!"

the golden maknae, who appeared to have just returned from a schedule, was indeed sitting there. despite the fact that he was surrounded by his management team, his eyes seemed to be searching for someone.

reaching over, chaewon slapped eunchae's hand in panic before the bts member noticed them pointing at her, causing eunchae to yelp while holding her hand to her chest.

sakura patted her head as the leader smiled apologetically at her.

"sorry, i panicked."

eunchae simply pouted but let it go, returning her gaze to the menu after one last look at the jeon jungkook.

the girls talked quietly, exchanging their thoughts on the food on the menu. yunjin mentioned some food recommendations she'd heard from other artists, which they decided to try and gave to the waiter when he came back to take their orders.

the girls quickly struck up a conversation, but chaewon was too preoccupied with scanning the restaurant. there were far too many artists, most of whom she knew by name and some by face.

her gaze returned to jungkook, who stood up. the moon shape of his eyes indicated that he was smiling behind the mask.

then you appeared, dressed both attractively and handsomely. a red hue appeared across her cheeks as she felt her cheeks burn up, realizing she was checking out the newly arrived girl. chaewon's heart skipped a beat when your eyes crinkled happily, but it was quickly crushed when jungkook took you into his arms.

"ooh, unnie found someone pretty." yunjin teased when she finally noticed the frozen girl.

chaewon snapped out of her daze. "huh? no, no. i didn't…" she denied it, but the flush on her cheeks and the way she threw a glance over her shoulders said otherwise.

the girls followed her line of sight just in time to see you pulling away from the guy and punching jungkook in response after he whispered something to you. chaewon frowned as he laughed, watching you glare up at him.

"oh, sunbae is talking to her." sakura said.

chaewon quickly shook her head. "i think she's his girlfriend. stop staring!"

yunjin looked at her friend in disbelief. you dressed as if you wanted to attract both men and women. even kazuha could see it. with one last wave from you, they watched you walked away from jungkook's table. they had no idea where you had gone, but you would never leave your partner hanging like that.

but chaewon was in denial and refused to admit it, insisting that you were already taken.

"maybe she's meeting someone else?" eunchae suggested.

chaewon turned around to see you gone, and jungkook was returning to his seat, but she shook her head to get rid of the image of you in her head, the way you carried yourself with such grace, or the way you pushed your hair off your shoulders, and the way—

"no. enough, that's enough. kim chaewon."

the girls watched in amusement as their leader gay panicked miserably, her anger issues showing as she clenched her fists on the table. yunjin crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, shaking her head and looking at the other girls.

"she's hopeless." the american commented.

sakura laughed. "i think she's broken."

"how do we fix her?" kazuha asked, concerned, but eunchae shook her head. "she's beyond fixing, unnie."

the waiter then arrived and served them the food they had ordered. the sight of the food made their mouths water and the smell made their stomachs growl. at that, the girls exchanged surprised looks and pointed at each other, blaming one another.

"that was you?"

"what? no! i think it's yunjin."

"why me? maybe it's you?"

"i think it's zuha."

however, they couldn't tease each other any further because the waiter tripped while holding a glass of wine. because he was standing next to chaewon, the liquid was inadvertently thrown over the poor leader's lap.

chaewon pushed herself away from the table as she gasped at the coldness seeping through her. the other girls shot up from their seats, staring at the mess in front of them. the waiter apologized profusely, bowing repeatedly.

"i'm sorry! i'm so sorry! i apologize!"

"it's okay. hey, can you, uh, calm down now?" chaewon tried to calm down the panicking man because all the other customers were staring at them, not to mention they were all idols, and she was becoming even more embarrassed, but then a stern voice cut in.

"what's happening here?"

chaewon got goosebumps all over her body when she heard the voice, and the red flush of her cheeks returned when she turned her head and saw you standing in all your glory. chaewon's blush worsened as she watched you eye the mess and remove your blazer. she hadn't realized you were handing her the garment until kazuha took her hand and helped her take the blazer from you because you had broken her.

chaewon cleared her throat and let out a high-pitched thank you, causing the girls behind her to facepalm. the situation was stressing you out, but the flustered idol made it slightly better, so you gave her a quick smile before turning to the waiter who caused all of this commotion.

"you. let's talk." your stern voice returned and the guy followed you, his ears flushed with embarrassment. the other restaurant employees were bowing to the customers, with one man loudly apologizing for the inconvenience.

you walked past an elderly waitress, whispering something to her, and she nodded in response. they turned to the elderly woman who approached them as you passed through a door.

"ms. kim? kindly follow me."

chaewon did as she was told, her mind racing with the possibility that you knew her. the elder waitress had addressed her by her family name, so perhaps you recognized the idol or perhaps it was the old woman who knew her, but she wished it had been you.

click. chaewon jumped at the sound and turned around, only to realize they were in a restroom. chaewon nervously returned the elderly woman's gentle smile.

"apologies, ms. kim. the boss has gone to get you some extra clothes. she'll join us in a moment."

boss? chaewon blinked at her words. was it you? you're the boss of the restaurant? the elderly woman watched in amusement as chaewon processed her words. she knew that look, she'd seen it before. so she stood quietly with a smile.

the door clicked open and chaewon let out a small 'eep' as you entered the comfort room with your clothes hanging on your arms. the woman turned to leave, offering you two a bow, which you returned and chaewon hurried to do the same.

with a soft smile on your face, you finally faced chaewon. "i apologize for the inconvenience, ms. kim." you said as you extended your arm where your clothes hung.

ms. kim... ms. kim? so she knows who i am? oh my goodness. oh my god, chaewon panicked yet again. she stood there, frozen, staring at your lovely face. you were undeniably more attractive up close.

meanwhile, you waited patiently, confused as to why the idol was staring at you. is there something on my face? you wondered, briefly glancing at the mirror. there's none though? i hope there's none… maybe on the other side of my face?!

you were beginning to worry about your appearance in front of the beautiful idol. you didn't want to leave a bad impression, like she'd remember you because of the dirt you hadn't noticed on your face or something. aside from that, her stare was so intense that it made you nervous.

"uhm, ms. kim?"

chaewon didn't hear you, but she noticed your lips moving. you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, opting to wait for the idol to recover from whatever state she is in. am i that unbearable to speak to? the longer chaewon stared at you, the more attractive you became to her, but also the brighter your face turned.

it took her a while to come to, but once she did, she jumped and snatched your clothes before sprinting to the nearest open cubicle, which was right next to you two. in a panic, she swung the door open, almost hitting herself and you, but you dodged. you stared, perplexed, at the door she had slammed shut.

is she that mad? or i'm now unbearable to look at as well? shit. you faced the mirror, turning your head from side to side to check for something on your face.

fucking shit. what was that, chaewon? what in the world was that?

chaewon clutched the garments close to her chest, biting her lip to keep the frustrated squeal from escaping her throat. she buried her face in your clothes, red ears poking out from behind the curtain of her short hair, as the sweet scent of your perfume entered her nose.

just… what the hell, kim chaewon?

when the door opened, you looked up to see the idol finally dressed in your clothes, but you quickly averted your gaze, not wanting her to feel awkward. you quietly handed her a paper bag into which she placed her own clothing.

chaewon tried to catch your attention and apologize for her actions, even though she knew she'd just panic, but you refused.

"i know your night is probably ruined, but please do try to still eat." you started and the idol paid attention, watching you speak. "the food is good, i promise, and it's on the house."

chaewon's eyes widened at your statement and she shook her hands in the air, relieved, when you met her gaze. before she could say anything, you unconsciously grabbed her hand and shook your head.

"it's on us, ms. kim. please allow us to make it up to you and your members."

chaewon couldn't say no to you, so she sighed and nodded. she looked at your clasped hands and you quickly let go, causing disappointment to bloom in her chest. she consoled herself by resting one hand on her arm.

"thank you."

"of course, ms. kim. apologies again. shall we?"

you led chaewon back to their table and gave them a deep bow, which they returned before you left. the girls looked at chaewon, who groaned and buried her face in her hands.

chaewon would scan the restaurant for you all night, but you had hidden in the office. even then, she hoped you'd come out. the leader told her members what happened, which they should have expected, but they were disappointed to hear the story.

"you should've asked for her number." sakura sighed.

chaewon was perplexed. "she's jungkook sunbaenim's girlfriend!" she hissed to the oldest girl.

"unnie, she wouldn't go out of her way like that if she really is sunbae's girlfriend." yunjin pointed out.

kazuha nodded along. "that's true. sunbaenim didn't even care when your… crush disappeared into the restroom for fifteen minutes or so."

"she's exaggerating, but she's right!" eunchae agreed, a bit weirded out by the way kazuha worded that, but still agreed.

chaewon furrowed her brows. "but she's the boss. shouldn't she be naturally concerned about her customers?"

sakura was so done with her. "if i were a boss, i wouldn't care." sakura was lying, she'd care, but not like that.

chaewon remained silent while poking at her food. the girls sighed before changing the subject and yunjin was the one who led the conversation about food. when they were finished eating, the same elderly woman led them out the door with a bow. chaewon stood stiffly in front of her as the girls thanked her and returned the gesture.

"yes, dear?"

chaewon took a deep breath. "uhm, could you please thank her? i appreciate her concern."

the woman nodded, her lips pulling up into a soft smile. "of course, my dear. anything else?"

when the idol opened her mouth, the words "her number" almost slipped off her tongue, and the old lady wished chaewon would just say it because watching you two act like little children was painful. even though she was smiling the entire time, an imaginary irk was already on her brow.

chaewon, however, shook her head, overcome by the fear that you were really jungkook's girlfriend, and held her tongue. so instead, she shook her head, and chaewon entered the van, staring at the restaurant until it was no longer visible. the short-haired girl slumped against her seat, disappointed at not getting your number.

"...was what she said."

you were sitting on the couch, the red flush on your face forcing you to hide it in your hands. the old lady was amused by your reaction and chuckled lightly, despite wanting to smack you for being a chicken, as the door opened and jungkook stepped in, raising his brows at your flustered state.

"you good there, saeng?"

you shook your head. "no, she was too pretty."

jungkook huffed out a laugh. "chaewon, huh?"

you hummed and faced the guy after composing yourself and rolled your eyes at the grin on his face. "get that stupid grin off your face please."

"you like her~"

"shut up please."

you never left chaewon's mind after that night. you afflicted her as if you were a virus and she was the odd willing recipient. the girl wanted to return to the restaurant and maybe ask for your phone number this time. however, she was still unsure whether you were jungkook's girlfriend or not. besides, her schedule was already jam-packed and she didn't know how to fit her own desires in.

days passed and chaewon found herself thinking of you even while at a party, more specifically, a get-together party hosted by the label. almost every artist under the label was present, but everyone kept an eye out for the idols below eighteen years old and kept them away from the alcoholic beverages. the leaders also checked the clock from time to time to see if the minors should go home.

it'd be really funny if she's here as jungkook sunbae's date, chaewon thought bitterly and drank the drink in her hand to hide her less than pleased expression behind the glass.

"hobi's here!"

chaewon ignored what was going on behind her, but the girls were on pins and needles trying to figure out what was so exciting that had their seniors running over to hoseok, who had just arrived.

then their eyes widened as they reached for chaewon and smacked her repeatedly. the leader cursed and narrowed her eyes at her members, who only pointed to the door. she turned around, puzzled, and her jaw dropped at the sight.

you were clinging to hoseok's arm, laughing at the bangtan boys' antics as they hyped you up. you wore a dress and tied your hair, exposing your neck and ears, which were adorned with jewels and earrings.

"ah, hoseok's little sister?"

"yeah, she owns le lieu royal, you know?"

"ooh! right! i remember!"

as she watched you whisper in hoseok's ears, the familiar flush returned to her cheeks. hoseok sunbaenim's little sister? the main dancer gave you a small nod and you walked away, heading for the drinks.

chaewon felt a push on her back and she walked mindlessly towards you.

whoever that was, thank you. if you hadn't pushed her, she would've stayed standing there.

her steps were hesitant and slow, but she wanted to seize the opportunity. it had to have meant something, right? she had predicted your presence and arrival, chaewon hoped.

she came to a halt right behind you and heard you thanking the waiter before turning around, eyes widening at the sight of the le sserafim's leader standing there silently.

"ms. kim…?"

the short-haired girl huffed at your formality. "chaewon. call me chaewon please."

you blinked, but smiled gently at her. "then call me y/n."

"you're…?" chaewon didn't know how to ask you, but you assumed she was talking about hoseok.

"hobi oppa's sister? yes, i am."

but chaewon shook her head, which confused you. "no, no. i got that. but, like, are you…"

you waited for her to finish her question, but all she did was stare helplessly into your eyes, captivated by your face. but then jungkook appeared out of nowhere, a teasing grin on his face. you reached out to shut him up, but he simply dodged your hand.

"yes, she's single." jungkook said, causing the both of you to blush. he left, but turned back around to yell at chaewon. "and hopelessly in love with you!"

chaewon looked up at you, slightly embarrassed, with questioning eyes, but you avoided her gaze. you were blushing, hard, and you tried to hide it by sipping your drink.

chaewon laughed because she thought you were cute. she wasn't sure if that was the real reason, or if she was relieved you were single and interested in her as well. all of the above perhaps. you tilted your head in admiration as you watched the girl.

"i'm sorry for acting that way." chaewon said quietly, but you could hear her over the music.

you made a humming sound. "it's all right. have i made you uncomfortable?"

chaewon shook her head quickly. "no, no, you made me feel... safe."

chaewon smiled, biting her lower lip to keep it from spreading further as your shoulders bounced in shock and excitement. relief flooded you and your previous fears and hesitance disappeared.

you grinned. "i'm glad."

a slow song started playing and you looked over to see taehyung by the dj's area, wiggling his brows at you. you rolled your eyes at him before returning your attention to chaewon, who had extended her hand to you.

chaewon was glad she wore the suit tonight.

"shall we dance, ms. jung?" chaewon asked with a crooked smile.

you laughed and gave her your hand. "we shall, ms. kim."

despite being taller than her due to your heels, she drew you in by the waist and you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

"you look stunning." chaewon tilted her head to catch your gaze when you had avoided her gaze after her unexpected compliment. "y/n/n, stop avoiding my gaze."

you laughed. "sorry, chaewon-ie."

then she remembered something. "your clothes, they're at the dorm."

you hummed and she felt you play with the baby hairs at the back of her nape, lightly tickling her. "it's fine, you can keep it."

chaewon flushed and gave you a look as if to ask if you were sure. you simply laughed and nodded, causing her to smile back.

you stayed with chaewon for the rest of the night. you danced with her, talked with her, joked with her, and shared your interests with her. chaewon wore this lovestruck expression the entire night, her members from afar playfully gagged, and stared at you with heart eyes, eyes bouncing all over your face to memorize your features.

chaewon had memorized every single one of your habits as well: how you'd duck your head to hide your blushing face or avoid her gaze when she complimented you out of nowhere, how you'd grab her arm to steady yourself as you laughed at seungkwan's antics when you found him in the middle of the room.

when hoseok took the dance floor, you cheered him on, and chaewon, who should have been watching him, found herself staring at you instead. chaewon noticed how your eyes turned moon-shaped when you smiled, how your voice stood out among the other people shouting, how you swayed to the music, and how you approached hoseok after to give him a big hug. chaewon adored all of it and all of you already.

the night seemed long, but it was also short, and before you knew it, it was time to part ways. it was past curfew and eunchae had to go back to the dorm, which meant chaewon and her other members had to as well.

"i have to go." chaewon pouted sadly.

you smiled at her cuteness and reached out to hold her cheek. "that's okay. i'll take you out on a date when you're free if that's okay with you."

chaewon eagerly nodded and moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around you. you returned her hug, eyes closing at the warmth, and took a few seconds to separate.

chaewon would've stayed there in your arms and warm embrace, but she had duties so she begrudgingly pulled away. you watched as chaewon turned to leave, only to turn around and walk backwards.

"bye?" she called out in hesitance, waving her fingers.

you smiled. "you're forgetting something."

chaewon came to a halt, furrowed her brows, and tilted her head. you chuckled and approached her. you took her hand and placed a piece of paper on her palm before making a fist with it. then you grabbed her necktie and planted a shy, hesitant kiss on her cheek.

"my number." you said, pointing to the pink lipstick stain on her cheek. "as well as that."

you left her there, staring at you with a surprised expression. her members inside the van were cheering so loud you could hear them and you giggled into your fist. chaewon's face had turned bright red and goosebumps had risen all over her skin. she watched you walk past the bts members, who were all beaming, especially hoseok, pushing the maknae line off you when they tried to tease you.

chaewon dashed to the van after she was done processing and gay panicking, squealing loudly as the door closed. the members laughed at her as she stared at the paper with your number written on it, but she didn't mind the teasing that was about to come her way.

meanwhile, hoseok sighed contentedly. "ah, my baby sister is growing up. i'm so proud of her."

hi?

ms. kim?

chaewon giggled, typing out her reply.

yes, ms. jung.

take care, okay? good night!

you, too.

chaewon slumped back against her seat once more, clutching her phone to her chest. the only difference was that she finally got your number this time and was on cloud nine.

nikko note: i'm not really proud of this one, but i find it a tiny bit cute. thank you for the request! i was kinda pressured and worried when i received one hehe. thank you for trusting me with your request, but feel free to request if you're not satisfied with it TT hope you enjoyed it! thank you!

#nikko reqs!#nikko works!#le sserafim #lesserafim reactions #lesserafim imagines #le sserafim x reader #kim chaewon #chaewon #kim chaewon x reader #chaewon x reader

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