#Diamond-Blossom AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forlix · 5 months

Text

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

2K notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 1 year

Text

Stardust || JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x F. Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Friends to Lovers au

Summary: If Jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tags/ warnings: himbo-ish jk, so much fluff idk where it came from, smut in the forms of: unintentional masturbation turned coregasm, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex (because that’s really cool), mirror sex, doggy style, technically multiple orgasms, they’re both giggly and in love it’s kinda gross, jk is a tits man, he’s obsessed with boobs, it’s all very tame and kinda soft ig

Notes: yay first fic of 2023. this was way harder to write than i’d anticipated, hopefully i pulled through. and if there’s mistakes, no there aren’t!

<3 thank you to my prettiest baby @4amj3zz for reading this atrocity before i posted it

my full masterlist

✯ ✯ ✯

If every living being’s foundation is made of stardust, scattered when born, then Jungkook thinks the two of you were made from the same star.

A friendship that’s near impossible to come by, crafted by the hands of a higher being— delicate fingertips moulding fickle personalities and emotions that seem incomplete when not together. Two angels sent to earth to be each others’ number one in another life they’ll spend together.

Precious, like naturally formed diamonds.

And maybe that’s what your friendship was, one of the world’s little treasures. One everyone yearns for, though only a select few have.

Sure, diamonds can be replicated, graphite turned jewelry, simply there for show. A statement piece if you must.

Fake diamonds and fake friendships that seem to be more common than the real deal. Hard to crack, though not impossible— splitting the two of you up into pitiful shards and lost pieces; where even the most skilled hands have trouble putting it back together.

Jungkook doesn’t remember life before you. Though he thinks it must have been dull, flimsy smiles, and friends that hadn’t bothered to call once they moved away.

His existence so easily forgotten, that the gnawing sadness didn’t seem to last as long as he’d anticipated. Simply walking the path of life alone, though he often thought solitude wasn’t all that bad.

Until your worlds had collided. The big bang of your friendship, a new world, a new start, everything so fresh and untampered with.

He’d thought about what life would be like if one day the two of you were to ever part ways, the very thought of you not being by his side like a harsh punch the gut.

And maybe he had gotten a little teary eyed on those evenings he felt a little softer, a little sadder at the thought of you ever leaving. His hands fumbling around his sheets for his phone, your voice his only remedy for his growing anxiety, where promises were whispered and sleepy smiles remained on your faces as you rested.

Jungkook doubts that day will ever come. And maybe that’s all just wishful thinking, a juvenile dream that the promise you’d made to one another would hold strong for the rest of time, until the two of you lay six feet under. Resting side by side until your bodies rot, flesh becoming one with the earth, what is left of your existence blossoming into something beautiful; perhaps a tree, a flower, truly anything, as long as you were together.

“Together?” you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes, eyebrows creasing in distaste.

Jungkook thinks you look pretty in that moment, even if you are pulling a face at him. The two of you sat at a bench in the park, your head haloed by the setting sun, last of the days warmth kissing both your skin in a gentle goodbye before the moon watches over the two of you.

Littles galaxies reflected in both your eyes, where Jungkook thinks each star in his represents one thing he loves about you; hidden behind the moonlight because he doubt yours represent the same.

“Yes” he nods, hair flopping a little over his forehead, and you push the stray strands out of his eyes. Fingers delicate as they brush over his skin, always so gentle with him that his heart flutters like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

“Kook, I love you— you know I do” and he nods, lips quirking up a little, “But working out just, isn’t for me” you conclude, tone firm and his shoulders deflate. Because he knows it’ll take more than glossy puppy eyes and a pout for you to give in.

“First off, I love you too—“

“Thank you” you nod. But Jungkook doesn’t think you understand the weight behind those words.

“And look, how do you know it’s not for you, if you’ve never tried?”

“You put me off” and Jungkook would have thought you were joking if you didn’t have that deadpan look on your face. One he was all too familiar with.

“Huh” he gawks, “How?”

“You always complain about sore muscles, and the thought of being sweaty grosses me out” your head tips forward dramatically, cushioned by your arms from the table.

“It’s a good ache” he watches you turn your head, lips moulded into an unconvinced pout as you stare up at him through your lashes.

“There is no such thing as a good ache, Jungkook”

“Is too”

“When?” you flail, unbothered as Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists.

“Sex ache”

You pause, “Excuse me?”

“You know?” he cocks his head to the side.

“No” you shake your head in utter disbelief.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, “You’re a little pillow princess aren’t you, I bet you don’t do any of the work”

“Do too, besides—“ you swallow, “It’s none of your business” you pull your hands free of his grasp.

“Come on, I feel like we’re at a point in this relationship we can share these things” his cheek rests atop of your head, each syllable pulled out into a whine.

“I don’t wanna hear about your sex life, Jungkook” you huff.

You watch him sit up ramrod straight, brain whirring behind his eyes. You think that if he thought any harder you’d be able to hear the echo of his voice.

“Actually, I don’t really wanna hear about yours either” his nose scrunches up, melting your resolve.

A secret charm of his that he didn’t know he had; and you’d never tell him either, no way in hell would you let him weaponize your weakness against you when your heart could barely stand being sat so close to him.

“Best friends don’t always share everything” you quip, only it leaves a tangy taste on your tongue.

“I suppose” Jungkook nods, evidently less enthusiasm radiating off him.

Best friends. It always wet your mood. Like sour candy that’s too sour, or a cute dog that’s breath smells like a rotting carcass.

But that’s what you were, introductions to new classmates or new lovers; it was always best friends. Two simple words that felt like utter shit to say, tumbling past your lips like vomit and then you had to rawdog the aftertaste because you don’t have any toothpaste or mints nearby.

Never anything less, even though there was definitely a lot more going on between the two of you. (Not that either of you had any idea about that.)

It’s a wonder as to how neither of you had grasped the fact that every previous relationship the two of you had, had ended because of the other. Nothing ever seeming to fit in place, the click never being there when it came to someone else.

Communication is key in upholding a relationship of any kind, issues easily resolved with hours of conversation turned mutual understanding, and progression made with a mix of both actions and words. As two people whose love languages were physical touch, the former is just as important as the latter.

One of the only reasons your friendship has lasted this long, is that you both value each other enough to communicate when necessary.

Apart from when you could probably really use it, unidentifiable emotions weaving into your hearts, mixed with a dose of denial can really set you back when you’re near infatuated with your closest friend.

It’s not that either of you had never considered a relationship with one another, others outside your little bubble had brought it up enough times that the meager possibility of it actually happening had been cemented into your thick skulls.

Something nice tickling both your brains at the fact so many people thought you were together together; like, in love together.

Long gone were the days where you’d blurt out your denial to dating accusations with rose dusted cheeks, simply believing the world had a thing against opposite sex friendships. Now, the two of you just laughed off whoever liked to comment on how good you looked as a couple. (Which had brought more than a few of Jungkook’s relationships to turmoil)

It’s just that neither of you believed the other wanted anything more than friendship. A rookie mistake on both your parts, especially when you’d both establish that every and all emotions were to be discussed with one another, no matter what you felt.

“One time” you break the silence, any way to ease the growing tension between the two of you “I’ll work out with you one time. And never again”

You watch the smile as it pulls at the corner of his lips, the prettiest smile, your favorite smile, enough of a reward for whatever pain you’re about to put yourself through. Because as long as Jungkook was happy, then you’d crawl to the ends of the earth if it meant you got to see this smile one more time.

“I love you” he bends down, sloppy kiss pressed to your cheek and you can’t help your own smile, heated cheeks covered as you swat him away from your face. Wiping his saliva from your skin with the back of your hand.

“Whatever” you tut, though Jungkook sees through your faux annoyance.

“We can use my at-home gym as well, so we won’t even be in public”

“Wonderful. Let’s go back now, I’m gonna freeze my tits off if we stay any later”

You don’t catch Jungkook’s gaze flickering down to your chest, lingering a little longer than proper before he’s slinging his zip-up hoodie around your shoulders. Eyes flickering down to his hands briefly before he’s knocking shoulders with you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead” you utter, falling into Jungkook’s side when his arm falls over your shoulder.

✯ ✯ ✯

Jeon Jungkook was sex on legs when he worked out.

You were no stranger to him training, countless vacations together, where the morning was spent with him doing press-up on the balcony or the occasional few times he’d bench-press you for a laugh.

You’d never found it funny though, pussy throbbing between your thighs as he’d grab onto you, arms flexing deliciously. And he never seemed to question why you’d lock yourself up in your room after, purely a coincidence that you’d disappear for an hour after his little stunt.

You were no stranger to a half naked Jungkook either.

Nor were you a juvenile teenager whose panties got in a twist when she saw a toned stomach.

However, this wasn’t just any toned stomach.

Jeon Jungkook was built like Adonis. Carved where every crevice had meaning and every flaw only enhanced his beauty. And it’s hard to think the bushy haired, acne prone teen boy you’d first befriended had turned into this.

If puberty had benefited anyone, it was Jungkook.

“We’ll do something easy today, okay?” he claps and you nod, watching as he saunters over to a basket.

“Pink or blue” he holds up two yoga mats.

“I didn’t think you were into rhinestones” you snort, sun catching on the bedazzled rim of the pink mat— streaks of pink painting the wall.

Jungkook drops said mat, chucking you the blue one before he’s dropping to his knees on the floor.

“It’s one of my exes” he tells you, motioning for you to sit.

If people were flowers, then this is the moment you would have wilted. Deflating in on yourself; it’s not that you were jealous per-say. It’s not like him and his ex were dating at all but still. The very mention of her was enough for you to roll your eyes.

“And you didn’t throw it out?” the words hurdle out your mouth before you can even think about what you’re saying.

“No?” his eyes meet your own, “I’m not throwing away good gym equipment”

You sigh, somehow expecting no less from him. Jungkook was a man of many skills, and he’d hounded you to try hobby after hobby with him— but nothing got him going like a good work out. If all other passion in life disappeared then he would still have working out as his escape.

You sigh, “I have somewhere to be later, so let’s hurry this up” a little white lie, but that never hurt anyone.

“You’re not going on another one of those shitty blind dates, are you?” he groans and you whine.

“I told you, I’m never going on any of those ever again”

“You better not” he unrolls his mat, and you follow.

“Or what?” you turn your nose up at him and Jungkook’s foot collides with your thigh.

“On your back, you brat.”

✯ ✯ ✯

“How much more” you flop against the mat, eyes closing.

“That was only the warm up” Jungkook hums, pushing himself up off the floor.

You hear him walk to the other side of the room, cupboard door creaking open as he rummages around for something.

You peek up at him through your lashes when he throws a towel over your back.

“Roll that up” he motions towards it, coming to sit beside you, “And up onto your back again”

Your eyes widen by a fraction when he gently takes the towel out of your hands, pushing your knees apart before he’s closing them; towel stuffed between your thighs.

Your gaze travels down the length of your body, thighs twitching as Jungkook’s fingers wrap around your ankles.

“All you have to do is raise your legs like this okay?” and he demonstrates, making sure to keep your legs straight as he lifts them to a ninety degree angle from your torso. “Leg raises should be easy, even for you” he hums.

“What’s that supposed to mean” you snap, ready to push yourself up, except Jungkook’s hands press down over your chest.

“Hey! No complaining”

You swallow thickly, aware of Jungkook’s eyes on you as you raise your legs on your own this time.

“Pretty good, remember to tense your core when you do it, okay?”

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you do as you’re told.

Your eyes squeeze shut, body hyper aware of each small movement the towel has right over your clit. Pussy throbbing inside your panties and you worry your slick had started to soak through your shorts.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to take notice of your growing predicament, hands hovering over your calf to make sure you’re raising your legs all the way. Though that’s the least of your worries as you feel each new wave of unadulterated pleasure pulse through your core.

“Not so bad huh?” he grins.

It’s a strange sensation, pure arousal ebbing up your body, every brush of your panties over your clit, weight of the towel over your slit slowly bringing you to the precipice of an orgasm.

“I don’t think—“ you start, cutting yourself off with an arm covering your face at a particularly intense wave of arousal. Your stomach tightening at the feeling.

“Just a few more, you’re doing great”

“Kook, I really don’t think—“ your hand clamps over your mouth as Jungkook’s fingers take hold of your legs, helping you raise them; and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge. And you can’t help the surprised moan that drips off your lips.

Your knees bend, nudging against your tits as your hand falls over your sodden pussy, dull wave of your orgasm throbbing throughout your body.

Jungkook looks down at you, eyes wide as you simply lay there with your hands between your legs.

“Did you just piss yourself?” he asks, mouth falling open in awe.

“What the fuck?” you cry, “I just came you idiot”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, “Oh” he nods, “Oh. You had a— holy shit”

“Don’t look at me like that” your eyes glaze over with tears, heat prickling up your body in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to, it just happened”

Your feet fall to the floor, towel falling from between your thighs as you let out a stuttered breath, body still buzzing with the after affects or your surprise orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you peek up at him through hooded eyes, heart pattering so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat.

Jungkook’s eyes meet your own, “That was so fucking hot” he groans, “Looked so pretty”

You watch as his hand rubs over his shorts, his own arousal hard to hide as his head tips back in a way that extenuates his neck.

“Huh?” your eyes widen, willing yourself to not look at what his hands were doing.

“Should have known something like this would have turned you on”

“I wasn’t even turned on” you exasperate, “I clenched my core like you said and it just happened”

“Mhmm” and you can tell he’s unconvinced.

“Stop rubbing your dick, you horny piece of shit” you clamp a hand over your eyes, thighs clenching when he lets out a deep groan.

“Can’t help it” he lets out a sigh, “I’ve been dreaming of what you’d look like when you came, shame it wasn’t on my cock”

Your hand falls from your eyes, “Dreaming?”

“God, haven’t I made it obvious?” he asks, his own hands falling to his sides, though now you have a full view of his straining erection.

“Made what obvious?” you whisper.

“That I like you” he asks and you gawk at him.

“You, like me? I’ve been trying to hint that I like you” you point at him, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Huh?” it’s Jungkook’s turn for furrowed brows, “I swear you didn’t like me”

“I could have sworn you didn’t like me”

Jungkook snorts, “When did I ever say that?”

“You’re unbelievable”

“Me? What about you?”

Your body lays flaccid, muscles loose; heart hammering in your ears as Jungkook leans back on his hands.

“How long?” you ask, not daring to look up at him.

“High school”

You push a palm into the socket of your eye, low groan rumbling up your throat, “I’ve liked you since, I don’t know, probably high school as well”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice soft and you can feel yourself tearing up— so many emotions plaguing your mind at once you don’t know how to feel.

Jungkook scoots closer to you, “I could say the same thing about you” you huff.

“Why’re you crying” he frowns, thumb gentle as it brushes against your damp cheek.

“We wasted so many years. I seriously thought— you’ve had so many girlfriends”

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same, I guess I thought my feelings would go away if I gave my heart to someone else. And then you started dating around too and I really thought I’d never have a chance”

“Me too” you sigh, nose scrunching up in distaste for all your failed relationships.

“Guess it didn’t work out for either of us huh?” he hums and you nod.

“I think we’re both stupid” you murmur.

And Jungkook nods, “I agree”

“What do we do now?” you push yourself up onto your elbows, frown on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook’s head hovers over your own, the sun meeting the moon at the same point in the sky— your eclipse. The rest of your world suddenly shrouded in darkness, all you can see, think, smell, everything just Jungkook.

You nod, eyes flitting across his face as his arms cage your head. You can see his biceps flexing in your peripherals, thick muscle straining under the weight of his torso.

Jungkook’s lips hover over your own, a breaths width away from touching. You tilt your head up, pillowy lips cushioning your own and that’s when everything falls into place.

There’s nothing desperate about the kiss, ever so gentle and slow, the two of you aware that lost time can be made up in the future as you simply bask in this moment; your worlds aligning, tilting on the same axis, everything just perfect and right, and your hearts beating in sync, and breathing stuttered as you both pull away with hesitance.

Your hands cup Jungkook’s cheeks, eyes searching his own for anything, just something to tell you this wasn’t all a dream— that he really did like you back.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” he whispers, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips.

“No” you smile, giggle bubbling up your throat and Jungkook can’t help but grin down at you.

“I’ll tell you every day, all the time. You’ll get sick of me”

“I could never get sick of you, Jungkook” you push yourself up onto your elbows, noses bumping.

He tilts his head, kiss firm, and you moan as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, a silent plea for access.

You oblige, arms slung over his shoulders as you bring his body closer to your own, heat radiating off the two of you in thick waves.

“You taste so good” he groans, hands wandering down your body, teasing as they pull up the hem of your hoodie, “Want this off”

Your fingers tug at the offending material, dragging it up your body, “Hang on” you pull away from the kiss, and Jungkook feels his cock twitch at the sight of you. Red swollen lips, a sheen of his saliva coating them.

You pull your hoodie over your head, throwing it somewhere, a problem for later. Thighs clenching as Jungkook stares down at you— eyes wandering.

“And this” his fingers skim over the edge of your sports bra, dancing over your skin, mapping you out of every little spot he wants to kiss.

You hesitate.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable” Jungkook’s smile is gentle, retracting his hands and you want to whine at the loss of contact.

“I want to” you tell him, hoping the shake in your voice didn’t sound too unconvincing. The incessant throbbing between your legs wouldn’t go away unless Jungkook helped you out and your patience was slowly wearing thin.

“But?” he urges.

“I’m nervous” you admit and he smiles; reassuring.

“How can I help?”

You squirm under his gaze, fizzling embarrassment painting your cheeks red, “Can we both—“ you cut yourself off with a whine.

“Come on, gotta use your words, my love”

“Can we both get naked” you splutter, “At the same time?”

Jungkook’s head falls back, fully belly laugh wracking through his body, “Of course”

You tug your shorts off, Jungkook following you; a pile of both your clothes laying forgotten by your head. You’re too distracted tugging your sports bra off to see Jungkook’s length slap against his stomach. Tip of his cock an angry red, his fingers barely touching his shaft as he closes them around the length.

“Oh” he croons, “How pretty. Can I touch you?”

You nod, falling onto your back.

Jungkook’s careful as he touches you, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, testing the waters as he tugs at them, eliciting a breathy moan from you.

“Feels good?” his voice low, and you nod; hips involuntarily bucking upwards when you finally cast a glance at his length. Eyes widening a little in awe.

His fingers dig into your flesh, and he bends down, lips closing around one of your nipples. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin; tugging in a way that sends warm pleasure straight to your core.

He kisses over your chest, lips worshipping your skin, fingers skimming over the underside of your boob.

Each gentle press of his lips are searing as he works down your body. And your breath hitches as his hovers over your pussy, folds glistening with your arousal.

“Oh baby” he groans, and your thighs twitch as his warm breath fans over your core.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, impatient as they tug him closer to where you need him; an embarrassed whine falling past your lips when he kisses over you clit, once, then twice.

“Jungkook” you squeak, legs tensing when he finally wraps his lips around it, tongue flicking at your clit meanly.

He simply hums, vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure straight through your body, another gush of wetness dribbling from your hole. Jungkook wastes no time, fingers scooping up your leaking arousal before he’s pushing them into you.

“Oh” your chest stutters a breath as he pulls his fingers out of you, tongue licking a broad stripe over your cunt before his thumb brushes over your clit.

“You like that?” he asks, though the question was rhetorical as he repeats the motion. Tongue teasing over your hole before he’s lapping up your slick; sucking at your folds, squelching lewd accompanied by each hearty moan.

Your thighs start to shake, clamping around Jungkook’s head though that barely deters him, as he pushes your legs open by your knees.

“Stop. Kook— please” you whimper, “wanna cum around your cock”

That catches his attention, and with one final kiss to your clit he’s pushing himself onto his elbows.

Jungkook looks like the epitome of sin, slick stained chin and swollen red lips, unashamed as he licks your arousal off his face, humming in satisfaction as your chest stutters out a breath.

“Lemme get a condom” he murmurs, lips pressing another kiss over your knee before he’s pushing himself to stand. Your eyes follow his body, heavy cock bobbing against his stomach with every step he takes.

“Hopefully they’re not expired” he calls from the other room, and you giggle at that, “We’re good” he flashes you a grin as he drops back between your legs; foil wrapper held between two fingers.

You watch his fingers run down his length, thumb brushing over his slit and you feel slick dribble out of your hole as a bead of pre-cum coats the head of his cock shiny.

“Please” your head tips back, hands impatient as they tug at your nipples; Jungkook completely entranced by the sight. “Hurry, hurry” you nudge his thigh with your foot, and albeit reluctant, he tears his eyes away from your tits.

He rips the condom open with his teeth, a cheesy attempt at seducing you, and you weren’t about to tell him all he had to do was breathe and you panties would dampen.

He rolls the rubber down his length, fingers wrapping around his cock as he tugs a few times. You choose that moment to flip yourself over, hips raised as your chest lays flat against the floor and Jungkook moans.

“My pretty baby” he croons, hands roaming your ass before he’s pulling your cheeks apart; eyes fixed on your clenching cunt. Ever so enticing, silently begging to be filled and fucked until you can’t think or walk; a perfect excuse for Jungkook to pamper you a little.

You wiggle your hips, giggle muffled in the crook of your elbow has he parts your lips with his thumb, gently dipping into you hole before he’s pulling out.

“Please, Jungkook”

And that’s all it takes for him to line the head of his cock up with you entrance, tip nudging against your clit before he’s pushing into you; every inch stretching you apart deliciously.

“So good” you sigh, walls clenching around him and Jungkook can’t help the stutter of his hips, punching the air out of your lungs at the sudden intrusion.

“Sorry—“ his fingers dig into your hips, “Just feels so good, sucking me in”

You rock back onto his cock, breathy moan tumbling past your lips as your ass meets his pelvis; cock fully tucked into your pussy.

“Give me a moment” you shudder, body thrumming in anticipation.

Jungkook hums, hands wandering your body, fingers dancing over your skin. A surprised moan echoes throughout the room as his hands grab both your tits, squeezing them, fingers rubbing over both your nipples sending hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

He can feel you rhythmically clenching around him, walls sucking him in as you rock forward an inch before you’re sinking back down on his length.

“Okay” you nod, fingers holding onto the edge of the yoga mat.

“You sure?” he asks, pulling out to the tip, hips slow as he plunges back into you.

“Mhmm”

You feel Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You can’t help each near pornographic moan that’s pushed out of you with each harsh slap of Jungkook’s hips meeting your ass, skin smacking wet as your slick coats your thighs.

“So good for me” his head tips back, arms hooking around your bent elbows.

You let out a squeak as he sits you up, and your walls constrict around his length as he pushes deeper inside of you, gush of wetness clinging to his thighs.

“So good” your head tips back onto his shoulder, knees helping you bounce up his length.

Your back arches when the head of cock hits your g-spot, ring of creamy slick gathering at the base of his cock each time you pull up to the tip.

“Look at that” Jungkook murmurs into your ear, one hand tangling into your hair as the other settles over your throat.

He tugs your head up, and you catch your reflection in the full length mirror; insides of your thighs coated in a sheen of your slick, Jungkook’s hips thrusting his cock up into you, both your bodies glistening with sweat.

The red hue of your cheeks flushes down your neck and chest, shade darkening with each wet squelch of your cunt as Jungkook helps you bounce in his lap.

He watches your tits bounce, both his hands wandering to grab them, pulling your back closer to chest as he pounds into you.

“I’m gonna cum” you hiccup, hands scrambling to hold onto his bicep as your other hand travels down your body, fingers gathering up your slick before you’re circling your clit.

You thighs start to shake, crescent moons indented into your skin as Jungkook’s grip on your chest tightens, your walls throbbing around his cock, drawing him closer to his orgasm.

“Yeah?” his hips stutter, “Come for me then, pretty. Let’s come together”

You moan, fingers unrelenting as you thrum at your clit in tight circles. Your orgasm wracks throughout your entire body when it hits, stomach tensing as your cum coats Jungkook cock, which twitches as he thrusts up into you.

He holds you down on his length, deep groan rumbling through his chest as he shoots his seed into the condom, your walls continuing to milk him of everything he’s got.

“Good girl” he soothes, hands falling to your hips as you fall forwards, cheek pressed against the mat as Jungkook pulls out, thrusting back into you gently.

“Thank you” you whimper, thighs tensing as he pulls himself out of your sodden pussy, folds glistening creamy white.

✯ ✯ ✯

Everything feels right. The two of you tucked into Jungkook’s bed after a shower, both your hands roaming one another’s bodies.

You’d clung to Jungkook’s back as he’d cooked you both dinner, work-out long forgotten as you’d both worked up an appetite. Muscles too sore, too achey, to even think of carrying on anything that isn’t wrapping up warm in each others’ arms.

It’s strange how so much, but nothing had changed. You still danced around each other with practiced ease, hands still feathery light, skimming over hips and backs, where legs are tangled under blankets, cold feet on warm skin.

There was something mellow in the air, a film of freedom, hearts on your sleeves for one another to see, where kisses felt softer, deeper in promise and love.

All the ‘I love yous’ holding the right weight, both understanding that the love you feel is the right kind of love.

He’d thought about it a lot, from the day you’d both confessed; messy, but a confession nonetheless. (And he had made sure to ask you to be his girlfriend in a more romantic setting than his spare room turned gym). That maybe the time growing up as just friends wasn’t wasted.

Failed relationships and sticky breakups simply teaching the two of you the right way to love.

Learning the give and take of relationships, what it truly meant to be in love with another person. Where you want nothing more than their happiness, a pure sort of adoration that consumes your entire being until they’re always on your mind. Small, seemingly insignificant parts of life reminding you of them. Trinkets in corner shops or the changes in season, certain smells, textures of clothing.

Learning about what you want for yourselves and how to take care of one another.

So he doesn’t regret all those years spent as just friends. Because maybe the two of you were too young, too eager, too scared about something as precious as true love. Growing up together, as just friends, might have brought the two of you closer than rushed first loves and petty arguments that you’d look back on and regret.

Red string. Stars. Fate. Destiny. Any of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what brought the two of you together, two souls intertwined until you both part ways when your lights flicker out. Though he thinks you’d reignite them wherever the two of you end up later on, new lives, new worlds. New everything, where he gets to learn about you all over again, explore your being, as you explore his, and you’re moulding into one another once more.

He wonders how long you’ve both been laying there, lips pulled up into lazy smiles, kiss swollen; little galaxies reflected in both your eyes.

Where every glistening star is a reason as to why you love each other. Your galaxies shining with a million different reasons, moonlight no longer veiling what lay beneath.

Because Jungkook thinks, if people were made of stardust before they were born. There’s no doubt in his mind, the two of you were made from the same star.

💫 like, reblog, and feedback is encouraged!! thank you so much for reading <3

taglist: @koikooky @fandems @guesswhatimthinking @slut-formattsun @satisfied18 @apollukee @scastro95 @happygolucky7777 @jjkw-7 @taeboludo @fairy-jaykay @jeonjjks @exactlygreatcoffee @itzz-me-duh @jkkkkkay @starstruckfangirls @tornparts @seoqity @straykidsmaxident @bebejungkook @twilight-love-nochu-main @chimmisbae @redeyezbloodymouth

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts fic #bts #bts x female reader #bts non idol au #bts au fanfic #jungkook friends to lovers #stardust

6K notes · View notes

shalomszn · 5 months

Text

˗ ˏˋ eye contact. | college stu au

shuri x blk!fem!reader | fluff! | drabble

summary : just a little eye contact with a pretty girl, what that can lead to? (Description of being madly in love)

a/n : just something I think about while listening to this song 🤭

Your focus was on the professor’s voice, his words on explaining the human anatomy. Fingers typing on your keyboard to drop down the notes on your laptop, then your gaze slowly went back to the professor.

It has always been like this, never a distraction was caused. There’s only 3 things will get your attention during class, which is the professor, your laptop, and maybe some documents on the table. Never caring about the people in the same room as you.

But this girl with short curls, sharp jawline, and a tall figure seemed to made an exception. Whenever the professor seemed to ask a question, she’ll answer in with full confidence, and later on, get it correct.

You sat by at a cafe on campus, studying for your finals. But your mind doesn’t want to put the attention on it, instead, it started wandering over that girl in class. You groaned in frustration, taking your glasses off hoping you could focus.

And failed. You even start to suspect do you like her, but all you know from her is that she’s a beautiful woman. That’s not worth to be a distraction from class, and again, you tried to find your ways back to focusing on your studies.

As usual, you show up to class, pay attention, and do what a student would do.

Putting your full attention on the professor’s words, as you try to understand how he explains everything. There it goes again, the girl. Your gaze slowly move from your laptop screen, to her, sitting in the next row.

Whats surprising is that she seemed to notice your gaze, and she seemed to been staring at you for quite a while. Her beautiful brown eyes, her face originally in your direction, immediately changing the moment you decided to take a glance at her.

Her side profile now displays, as her eyes started to scan at random objects. Taking a pen, and looking at it like it’s her first time discovering about a pen. She looks at it like it’s a beautiful and precious diamond.

You started blushing slightly, and you place a hand to cover your smile while you lean back to chuckle softly at her reaction. Your heart was fluttering, blossoms were blooming in your stomach, butterflies dancing in your heart. You tried to hold in your soft smile and went back to the class, but oh, how hard is it when those few seconds of eye contact literally became a core memory to you.

Your gaze started to slowly go back to her, she was grinning like an idiot. Her face resting on her palm, as her gaze maybe on the laptop screen, but she seems like she was thinking of something.

Class ended, and what you’ve learnt? nothing, but realised the seemingly cocky girl could also blush. You may had learnt nothing, or understood anything during class, but at least you did share a few seconds of eye contact with that beautiful girl right?

But what comes next to is unexpected, you were packing to leave the classroom, but she approached you, oh that soft and raspy voice.

“Hey…I’ve been noticing you in class for a few times, and you’re really beautiful.”

beautiful?

You giggled sweetly, and moved around in your seat, as you look up at her through your curls,

“you’re really beautiful too.” When you open your eyes from the small laugh to look at her. She literally lost her focus while holding the eye contact with you, your pupils were reflecting a sparkly light, your lips curved into a sweet smile, your long curls around your head.

“thanks…do you mind if I get your number?”

“yeah…sure” she handed you her phone, and you typed your phone number in also adding your name to the contact name. She took it back, and look at the name. “y/n?”

“mhm. well now since you got my name…what’s yours?” You showed that smile again, while looking up at her waiting for her response. There was a long pause, like really long. And that made you tilting your head and touching her forearm asking her what’s wrong.

“Oh uhm, I’m shuri.”

“Shuri…sweet name you got.”

She chuckled from that, ‘well that was hot’ you thought. Looking at her smile, as you snapped out of the trance.

“you’re so fine.”

“oh really?” You asked and giggling again, while packing your stuff. “Yeah…like hella fine.”

“I swear if you keep giving me these compliments, my heart will die from a heart attack.” You said jokingly, getting up from your seat, and the height comparison wasn’t that obvious but it was.

“Well I’m just saying how beautiful you are, is it my fault now?” She softly said, while looking at you like you’re the only girl in this world. Like you’re the pen she was looking at earlier during class. “no…never was. tell me more in the texts.” You softly said ready to leave and go for your next class, when she licked her lips and smiled at you

“text me alright?

“I sure will…y/n.”

And that’s when you left the class with a smile on your face.

#queen shuri #shuri fluff #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri smut #shuri udaku #shuri x fem!reader #princess shuri #shuri black panther #shuri fic

225 notes · View notes

nerdraging4point0 · 3 months

Text

Power Play // Chapter 1 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV.

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @cncohshit @flowery-mess @graveatspeople @cncohshit @nerdywitch20 @sundamariis @srorgana1 @malerieee @bloody-delusion-expert @sammyjoeee @deathofpeaceofmiiind @hayleylatour @deadboltsblog @broken0mens

I sank into the faded beige couch in our cozy two-bedroom apartment, soaking in the last moments before everything would change. Through the open window, the sweet scent of yesterday’s rain drifted in on a gentle breeze, reminding me of all the lazy spring days spent here with friends. Marissa plopped down beside me, and I felt a pang in my heart realizing how much I would miss this—being with her, my best friend and rock through the chaos of senior year. Now, a few months out after graduation, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over me. I etched each detail into my memory: the worn fabric beneath my fingertips, the birdsongs outside, Marissa's quiet presence. Soon we'd close this chapter, but the memories we made within these walls would blossom in our hearts for years to come.

The last four years of nursing school had flown by in a blur of late nights studying and early mornings in clinicals. Now with our bachelor's degrees finally in hand, my best friend and I found ourselves at a crossroads. Where did we go from here? I was tempted to jump right into a job at the hospital we'd done rotations at, but ultimately decided a few months off would do me good. Time to decompress after the whirlwind of college, and spend some much-needed quality time with my dad before launching into my nursing career. Though the future felt wide open and uncertain, I knew this break would help me recharge and figure out my next steps.

I gaze at my suitcases lined up by the door, like soldiers ready for battle. The rest of my belongings sit sealed away in cardboard coffins, soon to be shipped off to my father's house. In a few short hours, I'll board the plane home, leaving this chapter of my life behind.

I glance anxiously at my phone. The Uber is ten minutes away, coming to ferry me to the airport and the imminent end of my time here. Ten final minutes before my ship sinks into the sea of memories.

Part of me thrills at the thought of going home. But another part dreads that I won't summon the courage to uproot myself again as I did to come here. I feel caught between the familiar comforts of home and the terrifying freedom of the unknown.

As the minutes tick down, the nerves and sadness swell within me like the tide. I'm unsure if I'm ready to leave, but the choice has been made. My bags are packed. The car is on its way. My ship is sinking, and it's time to go down with it.

Marissa grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers in a familiar, comforting way. "This is just a new chapter for us," she says gently. "You know we'll find our way back to each other soon. Just give me a few months to settle into my new job, and I'll come out to Cali for a long overdue visit." Her words wrap around me like a warm hug, reassuring me that our bond can weather any storm.

As we stand from the couch and fall into a tight embrace, I can't help but feel a pang in my heart. Her messy bun tickles my nose, and the familiar scent of cleaning products and lavender clings to her old sweats and university tee. We had spent all day tidying the apartment, scrubbing away remnants of late nights gossiping over takeout and movie marathons. With each swipe of the washcloth, another memory got wiped away.

My phone pings, the Uber waiting to take me to the airport. I cling to her a little tighter, not yet ready to let go of my best friend. We'd been through so much together in this little apartment - late night study sessions, tears after bad breakups, celebrations after every accomplishment. And now we had to say goodbye.

I feel her tears dampen my shoulder as we sway back and forth, the unspoken "I'll miss you" hanging thick in the air. This isn't the end, I know, but as we finally pull away and I gather my bags, my heart breaks nonetheless. One chapter was closing, but a new adventure awaits for both of us.

She helps carry my bags down to the curb where the driver puts them into the trunk of his SUV. We exchange one more hug and a few tears before I climb in the backseat, waving goodbye out of the tinted window till she is out of sight. I pull out my phone shooting a quick text to my dad that i’m on the way to the airport. He wasn’t so much of a worrier, but he’d be upset if I didn’t at least warn him.

The afternoon sun peeks through the clouds as I drive down I-5, weaving past exits for Tacoma and Federal Way. The leaves on the tree limbs turning a faded shade already line the highway, a sure sign of Autumn in Seattle. Before I know it, I'm pulling up to Departures at Tacoma International Airport, the scent of coffee and jet fuel mingling in the air. Two overstuffed suitcases roll alongside me while my backpack bounces on my shoulders.

After checking my bags, I meander through the terminal, watching businesspeople rush to their gates while families herd overexcited kids onto flights. My flight isn't for another hour, so I find a seat by the window overlooking the tarmac. Planes taxi and take off as I confirm my hotel reservation. I could've stayed at my dad's place, but I know by now my old bedroom has likely become his at-home office. Anyway, it'll be nice to have some independence on this trip back home.

The call comes over the intercom: "Now boarding Flight 784 to LAX." I grab my carry-on and hustle to the gate, eager to secure my window seat near the front. The line inches forward as passengers jam the jetbridge, jostling for position. I finally reach my row and hoist my bag into the overhead bin. As I plop into my seat, I peek out the oval window at the tarmac below. Ground crew in neon vests scurry around the plane, making final checks. The cabin door slams shut, and we lurch into motion. The engines rumble as we gather speed, pressing me back into the headrest. My pulse quickens in that familiar pre-flight rush. The nose tilts up, and we're airborne! Home, here I come!

The LA sun hangs low in a hazy orange sky as I collapse into the hotel room's plush queen bed, weary from a day of travel. Cleaning and packing left me exhausted, so I had to cancel dinner plans with Dad despite his obvious excitement on the phone. He mentioned some "proposal" he has for me - likely another attempt to get me to ditch the hotel and stay at his place instead. But this modest room has everything I need - soft carpets, textured walls, and pillows galore.

After a long day, the thought of going back out into the bustling city streets makes me weary. I decide to unwind in the cozy confines of my hotel room instead. Stepping into the shower, I turn the heat up high, letting the warm water envelope my tired muscles. As steam fills the air, I feel the stress of the day wash away. Wrapped in a plush robe, I settle into the comfy armchair and flip on the TV. The sports channel is covering the latest NFL news - the FortyNiners are gearing up for a big pre season. But soon they switch over to hockey, and my ears perk up. It's an update on my dad's team! I lean in, eager to catch every detail and stat. The lively commentary of the sportscasters fills the room as I relax into the overstuffed cushions.

"Folks, the Rooks are looking like a force to be reckoned with this season," the announcer says with enthusiasm. She’s blonde, wearing a gray suit and enough makeup to cover her crows feet and forehead wrinkles, "Coach Brody has lit a fire under this team during preseason and you can see it in the intensity of their practices and scrimmages. The offense is clicking and putting up big numbers, but don't overlook the tenacious defense - whether it's the starting unit or the backups on the ice, these guys are shutting down opponents left and right. The Rooks are hungry for a championship and have all the pieces to make a deep playoff run. If they keep up this level of play, we could be in for an electric season with the Rooks!"

The Rooks take to the ice, a blur of black jerseys with fiery red numbers, names shining under the arena lights. Skates slice and sticks flash as they circle the rink, putting on a show for the cameras.

“Goalie McClain is a steel wall with his saves.” the announcer gushes as the footage switches to practice - the puck rockets toward McClain's net but the goalie drops, gloves flung wide to make the save. You can almost hear the ice spray and skate blades carve as the team flies around the rink, hockey poetry in motion. The Rooks glide and dash in a choreographed dance, aggressive and graceful all at once, as their dark uniforms and gear mesh into a cohesive force.

The defense barrels towards their opponents with unrelenting intensity, their eyes locked in a fierce glare. "Sanchez is proving himself as the team's starting center this season," the announcer declares, her voice rising with excitement. "Sebastian and Karlsson - the league's top defense duo - are an unstoppable force!"

A tender smile spreads across my face as I gaze at my father's team, my heart swelling with pride. My phone chimes softly, lighting up with a new message from the coach.

Dad (04:45PM): Visitor pass will be at the front desk of your hotel in the morning. Should get you into the rink for the game on Saturday and tomorrow. Come down to the rink after four, we will grab some dinner once I'm done with practice.

Curled up under my warm blankets, I open my phone to a new Snap from Marissa. Her selfie pops up on my screen, a pouty expression across her face with the words "miss you" scribbled in playful handwriting. I can't help but smile, picturing her exaggerated faux sadness at our time apart.

The sun melts into the horizon, casting an amber glow over the Los Angeles skyline. Palm trees dance in the gentle evening breeze as the city begins to wind down for the night. The view from my hotel is stunning, with the skyscrapers silhouetted against the vibrant sunset. I open the blinds to take it all in, the concrete jungle transformed into a sea of gilded light. There's a magic in the air at this time of day, a tranquil beauty that washes over the urban landscape. For a moment, the hectic pace of LA seems to fade away. I breathe deeply and let the fading light soothe my soul, appreciating the simple joy of a perfect sunset over the city of angels.

#bad omens cult #noah sebastian #bad omens #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens

112 notes · View notes

poohbea · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄.

eren yeager | smut, slight fluff, angst if you squint | aristocrat!au

wordcount: 5.8k

content: upper class shenanigans, softdom!eren, fem!reader, oral (receiving), penetration (missionary and doggy), rough sex, pet names (princess, beautiful, etc.), crying, dick drunk reader, daddy kink, eren is a liiiittle pushy and an asshole (just a tiny bit), both of them holding a very weird hatred for each other (idk how else to describe it), unprotected sex (use protection kids)

― synopsis: being the heir of the biggest company in paradis holds it's challenges but no one prepared you for eren yeager

note from pooh: this turned out to be longer than expected lmao, writing smut after a long time is so hard omg i never know what the hell to say, hopefully it's not that obvious. i'm not too happy with it but i'm so over re-writing it at this point hahaha.

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Oh don’t look so glum,” your mother chastised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Enjoy yourself my love.” Her diamond earrings glistened in the warm candle light cascading from the chandeliers of the grand ballroom. She was an angelic vision in her lilac dusted gown, the same diamonds as the ones in her ears speckled through the fine fabric like dew on flower petals.

You sighed, sipping from your recently refilled glass of white wine. “Easier said than done.” Your gaze moved with the dancing crowd below you, dots of assorted colours and jewellery, black, white, green, pink. You hadn’t seen him yet.

She chuckled at your seriousness. “Do you really think hiding yourself away up in the balcony is going to solve your problems?”

Yes. “What else am I supposed to do?” You sent her a questioning side glance.

“Oh I don’t know… go down there? Dance? Mingle? God forbid you have fun.” She positions herself at your side against the bannister, dress brushing against your own.

Silently you leaned your head on her shoulder, a scent of vanilla and roses floating from her skin. “Is he here?” You whispered as you played with the delicate lace on your sleeves.

“He is.” She replied solemnly, resting her head on top of yours.

Your heart sank as her words solidified your anxiety. Of course he was here, how could he not be?

The man in question was one Eren Yeager, son of Lord Grisha and Lady Carla of Maria. A man who had been a thorn in your side since you were children. Lord Grisha generated his wealth from his medical practices littered across the country, this was valuable to your family, valuable enough to do business with.

Your parents thought it a good idea for you and Eren to become acquainted, being about the same age, maybe something would blossom. Though the only thing that did blossom was the growing hatred between you both. You somehow were always getting on each other’s nerves, so much so that you began to despise him. It started with small childish things, hair pulling, petty fights over trivial topics like who got to have the last of everything, but when you hit adolescence he made it a point to make a snarky comment no matter what you were doing.

“What the hell happened to your face?” He’d scowled at you one afternoon while you lay idly in the grass reading a book. It just so happened to be the same day your mother decided you were old enough to start wearing makeup.

You threw him an irritated look. “It’s makeup.”

“Your mother let you leave the house looking like that?” His shadow covers your face as he leans over you curiously, running a finger along your cheek.

“Piss off Eren!” He laughs as you throw your book at his face, easily dodging the hardback.

It was even worse as you came of age to actually date. He somehow managed to wriggle his way in and meddle with all your potential suitors, spreading rumours, interrupting dances and private conversations. There was a time everyone believed you’d slept with all of your father’s business partners, of course it wasn’t true but that didn’t stop your parents from losing their minds over the allegations. Your reputation was an important one, it was make or break in this dog-eat-dog world you were born into. You never really did find out who or where that rumor came from, but you had a funny feeling Eren had something to do with it.

“Maybe he’ll behave himself now that he’s in public.” Your mother continued.

“Fine I’ll go, but if he says anything out of turn...” You looked to her, finding no trace of disapproval, just her soft features watching the sway of dresses below.

“You’ll be fine.” She shifts to stand upright again before kissing your temple. “What’s the worst that could happen?” She smiles, disappearing through the curtain draped over the entryway of the balcony.

Sighing, you down the last of your wine and readjust the bust of your dress, smoothing over the lace that hung off your shoulders, dress twinkling in the light like stars at dusk. With a deep breath you found your way to the staircase that led onto the ballroom floor, hesitating at the top as you watched a parade of colour flutter by. You had yet to see Yeager, you reassured yourself. And hopefully you’d go the whole night without the misfortune of running into him. As you began your descent your mother’s words echoed through your mind one last time.

What was the worst that could happen?

Foreign and familiar faces welcomed you with curtseys and bows of reverence while you walked through the crowd, head held high and a bright smile on your face, greeting your family’s many business partners.

Being the heir to one of the largest companies in all of Paradis held a lot of responsibility, the primary one, being the picturesque daughter your father sought you out to be. Proper, intelligent and scandal-free. Something that was already hard to do in a sea of people who fed off of gossip.

“Lady y/n.” A kindly voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Could I interest you in a dance?” Jean Kirstein - the newest addition to your fathers growing list of associates- greeted you coyly with a hand outstretched in invitation.

You gave a half-smile “Of course.”

He was a handsome man to say the least, with tousled blond hair and a smile that had butterflies churning in your stomach. His suit was a classic black and white three piece, a teal tie bringing a pop of colour that complimented his alluring hazel eyes.

With one hand in yours and the other securely on your waist, he whisked you out onto the dance floor, taking the lead as he began moving you in time with the music. His gentle gaze never left yours as you floated across the floor effortlessly, touch warm against your hips that he guided in a rhythm that met his own.

“You’re quite good at this aren’t you?” Your playful expression made him chuckle.

“Of course my lady,” he replied, spinning you before continuing. “I had to make a good first impression didn’t I?”

The tempo rose with the changing routine and it was time to switch partners. He laid a soft kiss on your hand before releasing you in another spin, a laugh bubbling in your chest as you landed in the arms of your next partner.

“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself my lady,” your smile faltered as you looked up to see the face of the man you’d so desperately tried to avoid all night. “Don’t look so upset, frowning was never a good look on you?” A smirk hung on his lips as he towered over your smaller frame, loose hairs framing his face as he pinned you with mischievous eyes.

“What are you doing here, Eren?” You spat, feeling your skin tingle where his touch slowly made its way down the small of your back.

A huff left his chest. “I was sent an invitation? Why were you hoping I wouldn’t come?”

“Yes,” you retort. “I was hoping for a night of peace.”

He extended an arm and spun you in place, then roughly pulled you back into his chest. “You and I both know that’s never going to happen.” There was a knowing undertone in his voice, a tone that you knew always held bad intentions.

“Why must you always ruin my night?” You carped, trying your best to maintain your composure. There were too many important people around for you to make a scene and not face the consequences, but the longer he spoke the closer he was to pushing you there.

He dipped you low and your gaze caught Jean’s, who smiled at you softly while dancing with a woman in red. How you yearned to be back in his arms again.

“So you and Kirstein? What’s that about?” Eren nodded to the man in question as he brought you back up again. Your breath nearly left you with how close his lips were to your own, too distracted by that fact you didn’t even register his question.

“What?” Your brows furrowed at him as you took a step back to put some distance between you.

He met you with an icy expression. “Are you and Jean...an item?” He pressed, voice faltering at the end as if it pained him to even say those words. Why did he care?

“No, he’s an associate of my father’s, why does it matter?” You answered honestly, unconsciously moving your hand from his shoulder to his chest, running your index finger over the key shaped pin on his jacket collar.

“You seem awfully fond of someone who cleans horse shit for a living.” You catch him glance over his shoulder to where you could only assume Jean stood, not missing the irritation in his voice.

“He does not,” your hand smacks his chest. “He runs the biggest transport company in the country, horses are just one of his divisions.”

Eren rolls his eyes at your defensiveness. “Oh so you do like him. I didn’t know you enjoyed the smell of horse shi-”

The song comes to an end and you break away from him before you do something you’d regret. You opened your mouth and closed it again, fists balling at your side as everything you ever wanted to say became stuck in your throat. For all the belittling, the mocking and the embarrassment, you wanted to let him have it, but something held you back. Your tongue was stiff as he watched you with an inscrutable expression, waiting for you to break.

Instead your face softens, an equally unreadable expression etched upon your features. “Thank you for the dance Eren, good evening.” You said simply, giving a final curtsey before turning your back to him, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

With a hastened pace you pushed your way through the sea of guests, odd looks cast your way as you haphazardly bumped into a server holding champagne, making you lose your balance. The glasses clattered to the floor with a loud shatter, most of it spilling on your dress in the commotion as you landed on your hands and knees in the liquid. The crowd around you gasped and sneered, encircling your distressed figure on the floor, apologetic and frantically searching for an exit. You saw Eren among them, a taunting glint in his eyes, as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. Beneath him.

You were mortified.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Jean’s voice broke your fixed gaze. The man knelt down to help you up, but to his surprise you tore your hand from his, offered him a pained smile and curtsied half-heartedly.

“Excuse me.” You choked before speeding up the staircase, uncaring of the array of murmurs and snickers that followed your abrupt and dramatic exit.

This was his fault, Eren fucking Yeager. You cursed as your feet blistered in the tall heels you’d been wearing the whole night, reduced to hobbling down the long hallway, body sticky and damp from alcohol. This was the worst that could happen, you thought. As if being ridiculed wasn’t enough he had to go and add insult to injury with his stupid fucking face mocking you from the crowd.

Was this his plan? To rile you up so much that you’d slip up in front of everyone that was important to you? To your family?

“Fucking Yeager!” You growl, stepping into your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You began pulling pins from your hair tossing them onto your vanity in frustration, strands falling over your shoulders as you kicked off your shoes in the process. You were done with this evening, with everyone and everything associated with it.

As you finally tore the last pin from your now disheveled curls you heard a knock at your door. “I’m not accepting guests at this time!” You called out, frustrated with the ties on your dress. There was silence, then another knock. “Go away!” A string of curses fall from your lips as your fingers continue to slip against the silky fabric. “This couldn’t possibly get any worse.” You sigh. Then you heard your door open. “I said go away-!”

The source of your fury stood leant against the door frame, an arrogant aura emanating from his figure as he watched you struggle to undress. “How unladylike-”

The shoes you had discarded on the floor found their way into your hands and you aimed for his head, disappointed when he narrowly dodges the object. “Get out!” You glowered at him, other shoe in hand ready to throw.

He gave you an incredulous look, smoothing the loose strands on his forehead displaced due to evading your attack. “Are you insane?!” He shouts, picking up the shoe you’d just tossed at his face.

You threw the other shoe, this time at his groin, to which again he narrowly dodged. “Have you not had enough of making a fool of me today? You had to come up here to see your work first hand?” You’d given up on your calm façade, letting your emotions spill as you saw fit in the privacy of your room.

“You’re blaming me for that disaster?” He brayed, both of your shoes now in his palms.

“Of course this is your fault!” You spat callously. “The constant degrading, the fucking agony you put me through every event. You love to humiliate me every chance you get! And for what? Your own twisted sense of humour?” Your chest heaved as you found yourself mere inches from him, breast almost against his in your fit of rage, defeated tears spilling down your flushed cheeks.

You hated to cry, especially in front of Eren but at this point you couldn’t think of anything else to do. The pained attempt to stop the tears from falling ended in hundred more flooding out, you couldn’t bottle it all up anymore, not this time.

Silence filled the room, save your shallow shaky breaths and his deep ones. His face was once again unreadable, eyes scouring yours, for what, you didn’t know. Abandoning your shoes on the floor, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair that curled at your collarbone, grazing the skin there as his now softened gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your watery-eyed glare. The touch set goosebumps upon your skin as he continued up your neck to your jaw, wiping a thumb over your tear stained cheek.

“Let me make it better.” He breathed onto your lips, pleading eyes piercing into yours. His thumb traced your bottom lip tenderly, time slowing as his own met yours. He walked you backward further into your bedroom by your hips, closing the door behind him with an audible sound that reverberated off the hinges. His hand shifted to caress the back of your neck, pulling you into him further to deepen the kiss, moulding against your lips as he used his other hand to loosen the knot in the ties of your dress.

When the back of your knees hit your bed you parted, out of breath and thinking a bit clearly. “Eren,” you sighed, forehead against his as your breathing fell in time with one another. “Please, we-” He places a kiss on your cheek, turning you around to have better access to the back of your dress.

“Shh.” He whispers. His fingers pry the ties free and from their loops and he watches your body visibly relax, finally released from the confines of the material. Softly he pulls the fabric from your arms and down your waist till it became a pool of colour on the carpeted floor. His jacket and tie join it as he flicked the first few buttons of his shirt open to expose the tanned expanse of his chest.

You felt oddly vulnerable in your underwear, even if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you this way, his gaze still painted a flush upon your skin. Instinctually your arms came up to cover your bare chest, breasts almost spilling from between them.

He chuckles, neck lowering to plant a kiss on your shoulder as he smooths a hand over your stomach. “I’ve seen you like this plenty of times but you still hide from me.”

His fingers played with the waistband of your panties mindlessly, lips continuing their way up your shoulder. The heat of his touch has your mind going fuzzy, losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over your skin, familiar with every mark, every crevasse, every curve your body had to offer. Your lips part in a gasp as he bites into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

He turns you back around to face him, pushing you onto the mattress softly. His hips nestle between your thighs as his body envelops yours, pressing his hard-on against your clothed pussy.

“Eren.” With a sigh your hips squirm beneath his, attempting to ease the arousal rapidly pooling at your core.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You lose your voice at the way his mouth paths down your collarbone, laving marks into the depths of your skin. His hands find yours still covering your chest and pries them away, entwining your fingers to pin your hands above your head. Beneath his intense gaze the flush on your skin deepened, struggling to keep still while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Y/n.” He whispers mindlessly against your skin. Before you could answer him a gasp caught in your throat as his tongue encircled your nipple. He released your hands to cup your tits, rolling the other bud between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep them there.”

Your back arched unconsciously, rubbing yourself against his cock — still uncomfortably strained against the zipper of his trousers — causing a deep groan to sound from his throat, the sound alone making your clit throb.

“Fuck, Eren.” Digging your nails into your palms you struggled to keep them above your head, as you whined. It was embarrassing the amount of power he had over you, the way a simple flick of his tongue birthed an impossible ache between your thighs. After doing this with him for this long you’d think it’d have worn off by now.

“That’s it beautiful, say my name.” He coos, continuing his assault down to your thighs. His fingers curl around your panties and guide them down your legs, letting it join your dress on the floor.

A breathy moan escaped you as he wastes no time drawing a long strip from your entrance to your clit, moaning at the way your arousal danced on his tongue. Pushing your thighs apart he did it again, dipping his tongue into you this time to gage your reaction.

Those sweet sounds he craved for weeks finally fell freely from your lips, like music to his ears. He drank in every gasp and every whimper as your head lulled back and your back arched, still obeying his instruction as your fingers dug into the bedsheets.

His cock twitched as you began rocking your hips into his face, matching the pace of his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt. How did he always end up here? Back in this position, on his knees, between your legs, savouring the way you tasted like it was the last time he’d ever get to experience it. How tightly did you have him wound around your finger? Pretty damn tight apparently. As much as he tried to deny it, push you away with insults, humiliation and bickering he always found himself here, worshipping your pussy.

He hated you for it.

“’Ren, please. Please, please, please, fuck.” Your thighs strained against his hold, trembling as you continued fucking his face.

Fuck, he could listen to you beg forever. “What do you want princess?” He asked in a husky tone, planting tender a kiss on your inner thigh. His eyes were glazed over, a deeper green than they were on the dancefloor. Fingertips ghosted your entrance as he waited for your reply, his breath on your clit making you clench around nothing.

“I need you... I need you inside me, please.” You panted desperately.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as you open your legs wider for him. “Look how wet you are.” The way your arousal dripped down your ass and onto the sheets made his mouth water, the view never got old. Reluctantly pulling away from you he finally rids himself of his clothes, sighing softly as he finally frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

The sight had your mind reeling. He reminded you of an art piece, like marble where the finest detail was carved to perfection. His skin glowed in the candle light, glistening in a thin veil of sweat with your arousal still on his lips — rosy and plush. Muscles pulsed as he reached behind his head to pull the band in his hair, freeing a cascade of long dark hair onto his back and shoulders.

He hovers over you, lips ghosting yours as he guides his cock through your folds with a hiss. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d hope so.” You reply with a cheeky grin, laying a kiss on his chin.

You yelp as his hand slaps your ass harshly, the sound reverberating off the walls. There was a handprint now burning red on your ass. “What was that for?” You hiss, trying to move your hips away but find them pinned to the mattress under his weight.

He bites your neck in reply. “For being rude.”

“Oh, piss off.” He raises a warning brow as you roll your eyes.

Again he smacks your ass as punishment, this time harder in the same place. “Do that one more time, see what happens.”

The sting of your ass seemed to have clouded your judgement as you proceeded to take him up on that challenge. “Fuck yo-!”

Before you could finish your rebuttal he shoves his cock into you without warning, completely filling you to the hilt. Your hands find his shoulders instinctively, embedding crescent shaped marks into his skin. The sound you made was a mix between a gasp and a moan, both in shock and pleasure at the sudden intrusion.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Eren chuckles beside your ear, smirk evident in his tone.

A shaky breath leaves your chest. “I hate you.” You grumble in reply, the words coming out breathier than intended.

He shifts to rest his forehead against yours, a shit-eating grin still on his face. “If you hate me so much…” The pause is met with a harsh thrust of his hips, sending another moan tumbling from your lips. “Then why am I the only one that’s able to have you like this?” Your breath hicks as he repeats the same action, nose brushing his as he moved.

You didn’t have a real answer, it’s not like you didn’t seek sex from other partners, you did, but none of them could compare to the man before you. There was something comforting in how he knew your body inside and out, your expressions, the way your skin flushed under his touch, every moan and stutter. You trusted him with your body as he did you with his, but in doing so it fed into an addiction, one that could only be satisfied by Eren.

“Who said you were the only one?” You teased back.

His breath hit your nose as he huffed out a laugh. “No one can make you feel the way I do. Admit it.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Anyone can do what you do, you’re not special.”

“Oh really?” His cock twitches inside of you, hips moving at an agonisingly slow pace. “Like who?”

“O-others, why do you need to know?” You stutter out, unable to draw a realistic name from the top of your head.

“I’d like to know who my competition is. That is if they even exist.” Your skin tingles as his nose traces the curve on your cheek. Eren knew exactly what that stutter meant. You were a liar. But that didn’t make going along with it any less entertaining.

“Of course they exis- fuck!” Pleasure overwhelms you as he hits a familiar spot, fingers playing with your clit as he continued his strokes.

“Mmm.” He groans against your cheek. “You know how much I hate lies, y/n.” His pace doesn’t let up as he speaks, fingers and cock moving in time with one another, a sweet harmony that had you struggling to maintain your fragile composure.

“I’m not-”

Spank.

“Stop lying to me sweetheart,” he warns again, upping the pressure on your clit. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You could barely think, let alone speak as he continued his ministrations. Your pussy was a sopping mess, so much so that the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking his cock was audible with every delicious stroke.

Your breath fanned against his neck, hot and fast between moans and whines. The longer this went on the quicker your resolve dissipated and soon you were at his mercy. “You ‘Ren, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?” He smiles, leaning his ear to your lips. “Say it again I don’t think I heard you.”

“Fuck, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this ‘Ren.” You repeat begrudgingly between breaths.

“Good girl.” With a kiss to your cheek he leans back on his heels, letting his cock slip out of you. “Turn over for me.”

Obediently you flip over on your hands and knees, chest brushing the mattress as you position your ass in the air. You feel him move over you, watching as he retrieves two pillows at the head of the bed to place under your hips, to which you happily lay on.

His hands slip themselves into the crease where your hips met your thighs, memorising the way your back arched in this position. He proceeds to run his thumbs over the small of your back, parallel to your spine before his grip tightens slightly and he’s pushing your hips into the pillows. Slowly he eases into you, moaning at the way your pussy engulfed him eagerly, tightening as inch by inch he drew deeper.

"Holy fuck, ‘Ren!” You cry, nails clawing the sheets. It was like he was in your stomach, if that was even possible.

His tongue paths its way up your spine, leaving spaced open mouth kisses on your skin till he reaches your ear. “Does that feel good princess?”

You could only moan in response, heavy breaths wafting your hair that had fallen over your face. He wasn’t even moving but he still managed to turn your brain to mush.

With a chuckle he pecks your shoulder. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His hips shift slightly, drawing a string of whines from your throat. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm.” The weight of his body leaves yours as he sits back up, pausing to give your ass a squeeze. “And what if I move like this?” His hips draw back slowly before pushing back into you with a force that almost knocked the breath out of you. “That feel good too, baby?”

“Yes, fuck it feels so good, daddy.”

That was all the confirmation he needed to let go and fuck you into the bed the way he knew you loved. Hard and rough. Using your back as leverage he pressed into your skin, grip tight around your waist as he watched your ass ripple with every slap of his hips against your own.

You were so damn intoxicating it wasn’t even a joke anymore. There were days he’d actually miss this, miss you. Your face, your scent, your taste, how your pussy felt as it squeezed him at every inch, it was like you were made for him and vice versa. He’d never actually tell you any of that though.

This wasn’t love. It was sex, reoccurring mind blowing sex. Or so he continued to tell himself.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes!” By the way your toes curled he knew he was hitting that sweet spot along your walls. Satisfaction swelled in his chest at your cock drunk form scrunching the sheets between your fingers, losing your voice in the pleasure surging through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Cooing, he slows his pace to pin your hands behind your back, trapping your wrists in one hand and using the other to play with your clit. “You love this dick don’t you?”

Mindlessly you reply. “Yes daddy, so deep in my pussy.” At this point you would say anything, do anything if he asked you to. With the way his dick kissed that spot inside you over and over it was hard not to lose yourself, to let your eyes roll back and just take it.

“You feel so good princess, fuck you take me so well.” He looks down to where your bodies met, almost cumming at the sight of you creaming all over his cock. Your nails were digging into the back of his hand that still pinned your hands to the small of your back, grip tightening as your thighs tensed.

“I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine with a hick.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over this dick.” He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer as you grew tighter with each passing stroke, but he needed you to cum first, he needed to watch you come undone on his cock.

“Eren!” You hold onto his hand for dear life as you fall over the edge, your whole body tightening as Eren fucks you through your orgasm, fingers still softly caressing your clit.

“Good girl, that’s it.” He praises, out of breath, soon following with his own high. White hot ropes of cum painted your insides as a variation of your name fell from his lips in an incoherent mess. Normally he’d never be caught dead cumming inside if it was any one else but because it was you he bent that rule.

You groan softly as your body grew heavy, sinking into the soft mattress. Almost ready to pass out then and there you feel Eren shuffle behind you, moaning as his cock slides against your walls, slowly drawing from your warmth.

He falls onto his back beside you with a sigh. “Come here.”

“Mmm.” You groan, still fucked out and limp with flattened pillows under your hips probably damp with his cum as you felt it leak from your hole.

He clicks his tongue and pulls you forward effortlessly by your arm, cradling you in his side. There was a long silence as you both lay there listening to the rhythm of each others breaths, content in the comfort you had both built after months of this routine.

When all this first began you refused to even look at each other after the fact, getting dressed and leaving the room immediately. But one drunken night when you woke up to find him still there beside you, arm around your waist and pulled into his chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. It soon became normal for you to lay like this, naked and vulnerable, listening to his heart beat.

“You okay?” He questions, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Tired.” You sigh softly. Your fingers traced the grooves of his chest, circling his pectoral mindlessly.

He exhales heavily. “Feel better?”

With a chuckle you trail your finger down his abdomen. “A little.”

The look he throws you has your smile grow wider. “Only a little?” He turns on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Still lying to me.”

“Gonna have to try a little harder than that, Yeager.” Teasingly you tap his nose, laughing at the way he frowns at your simple gesture.

He caresses your face with his free hand, running a thumb over your rosy lips. “You really think I don’t know you after all these years?” The question was longing, like he was reminiscing every encounter you two ever had.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention after all these years.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“I’m observant.”

“You’re a nuisance.” You corrected, but despite your insult the smile never left your face.

“You love me.” The rebuttal caught you off guard, unsure if he was joking or not as his tone remained serious.

“Are you drunk, Yeager? Why would I ever love you?”

His face draws toward yours knowingly. “You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

“I-I could say the same for you.” You deflect, gesturing to his figure.

Did he really want to admit his feelings for you, after having pushed them down for so long? Did he even have feelings for you? When he saw you on the dancefloor for the first time tonight his stomach erupted in a flutter of butterflies. Not to mention when he watched the way you smiled and laughed with Jean. Who the fuck was he anyway? Some corporate kiss-ass who shovelled shit for a living. Transport, what was Jean’s transport company compared to the medical empire Eren was managing? Is that what impressed you? What you liked? He followed the way Jean’s hands glided along your body, like he knew where to touch you, how to make you…

“Eren.” Your soft voice breaks him from deep thought. You look at him with those eyes you do, the ones that somehow manage to break his resolve every time.

“Let’s get you to a bath.” He smiles at you sadly, laying a kiss on your forehead and getting up from the bed. His fingers rake through dishevelled hair before offering you an outstretched hand.

You witnessed the way his green eyes dulled as they bore into yours sullenly. His expression was placid, unreadable as it always was when he decided to shut you out, an action you’d become all too familiar with as you came back to the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to question him on it you take his hand. “Lead the way.”

PART TWO

3K notes · View notes

rinrinx2 · 6 months

Note

hi!! i saw that ur requests were open so i was wondering if you could do ran x reader where reader cheats on him 🙏🙏🙏 i hate that in every fic im reading ran is the dishonest one like please give miss yn a break 😫

I made this kind of like a historical vibes because I felt like it. Hope you like it :)

The lady of cheating

Ran x reader

Warnings: Historical AU, s£x, mentions of cheating, Sanzu, language

Feeling his cold hands move across your body as your purred in pleasure. Not allowing you to catch your breath as he rutted into you over and over again.

Feeling his fingers pinch as your already hardened nipples as you were bent on all fours.

The feeling of the silk fabric being pushed up further around your waist as he pushed deeper into you. Taking in the desperate moans of the man atop of you.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful” he whispered breathily into your ear.

Eyes still shut as you let his comment waver over you, as he couldn’t even see your face in this position.

Yours walls beginning to tighten with each thrust, and from the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your drenched hole you could tell he was close too.

And all to sudden you felt it, like a tsunami of wet pushed against his cock as you milked him for his seed, allowing him to shoot deep into you.

As your cunt swallowed up his seed letting it seep into the deepest parts of your womb.

You fell flat on the futon, as you heard the man who was once atop of you now lay on the side of the futon.

Hearing as he desperately gasped for air trying to catch his breath.

Turning your head to peak at the man as your armed covered your face from him.

Taking in the pinkish hue of his hair and the diamond shape scar of his cheeks.

And you might’ve not been caught starring had he not turned his head to look at you. With a smile plastered on his face in his post pleasure bliss, as he started into the two orbs of your eyes which sparkled in the light before he began to sit up.

Slowly getting on his feet as he began to tie his jinbei. The dark navy colour of it clashing with the cherry blossom colour of his hair.

“Same time next week” the man said as he kissed the top of your head as he exited the small room sliding the shoji door close.

You finally felt enough strength enter your body to sit up straight. Looking around as you absorbed in your environment, the discarded layers of silk of your uchikake on the tatami flooring.

Taking a deep breath before you found yourself standing on your legs, feeling the pain in-between your legs from your previous activities.

It was this pain that reminded you to look for any bruises that might have been left on your body. You examined yourself starting from the inner of your thighs to the mounds of your breast and finally grabbing a hand mirror which placed on the Chabudai as a display, luckily finding no marks.

You’d hate for him to find any evidence of your activities with another. You could only imagine the horror which would paint his face if he ever found markings on your body which was not by his accord.

Finally the pain subsided enough for you to leave the room you used to please the man with the cherry blossom hair.

“Hi (Y/N)-chan” a girl greeted as she walked passed you.

“Hi Miko” you greeted back as you made your way to your room to change.

Swiftly changing into a simple lilac yukata to combat the summer heat of the late midday.

Your simple yukata allowing you to blend in with the normal people around you as you made you way to the entrance of yukaku.

“(Y/N)-chan, you’re off so swiftly?” You heard the older woman who you and many other girls of the yukaku referred to as mother.

“She’s in a hurry to see that man” Hachiko giggled to mother and a few other girls in her company.

“You mean the tall handsome one” Shoko added with a teasing smile.

“Yes that one, he has a tattoo on his neck” Chihoro said with wide eyes as she relayed the information to mother and the other girls.

“A thug ?” Mother said with worry causing the other girls to laugh.

“His not a thug” you said rolling your eyes at the words of the young women your resided with.

“His a business man and a charming one at that” you said sticking out your tongue playfully as you took your leave.

“You’re late” Ran said with a raised brow and a smirk painted on his lips.

“Sorry I was busy washing clothes” you lied as you took his hand.

The warmth of his hands overwhelming the cold sensation of yours, that was not to long ago touching another man.

“You know when I marry you, you won’t have to work this hard anymore” Ran said as he brought you over to a bench that was placed right under a cherry blossom tree.

You looked at the blossom noting the colour to be the exact colour of the other man’s hair, unlike Ran’s whose hair was the colour wisteria.

“You should let me come and meet your family, I bet they would be delighted to find you with a manner like me. A man who will provide for you” Ran added as he looked into your eyes, his hand finding your chin as he brought your lips closer to his as he waited for an answer from you.

“Ran you - ” you began to speak but before you could finish Ran finished your sentence for you.

“I can’t. I know (Y/N) you’ve been telling me for awhile now” Ran said as he removed his hand from your chin and the other from your hand leaving them once again cold.

“I don’t understand why you’re so ashamed of them”

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of them. It was that the people who you referred to as your family were actually blood related to you they were you sisters in the yukaku.

You didn’t know how it would look on you if he was seen hand in hand with the most well known Oiran of the red light distract, about to go ask her ‘family’ for her hand in marriage.

“Or is it me you’re ashamed of” Ran said his eyes burning hot with anger and sadness.

The only person you were ashamed of was yourself. Laying with different men day in and day out. Moaning for them, allowing them to touch you in places that Ran had yet to discover. In simple terms you were cheater. And you knew, feeling the wait of this everytime a man rutted into you, everytime a man released himself into you and everytime they kissed you tenderly.

And even though your clientele was more reserved due to your status as oiran it didn’t make you feel any better at the fact to at you were still seeing other men behind Ran’s back.

“I’m not ashamed of you Ran. I’m just not ready yet” you said trying your best to hold back a sob.

“When will you be ready (Y/N). I love you, can’t you see it. I want to spend every second with you, I never want you to depart my side”

You bit your lip looking down at the fallen cherry blossoms, trying you best to find an answer.

“I don’t know” you replied honestly.

You weren’t sure when you would tell Ran about what you were or who you were doing.

You felt as Ran’s arms grabbed at your waist bringing your closer to him, feeling the as his lips met your forehead similar to how the man you were pleasuring not to long ago.

“I understand, you may take your time but please do not take to long” Ran whispered to you.

Ran’s words echoed in your mind as you closed your eyes tightly holding onto him with conviction afraid for the day that he would push you away.

You and Ran clung onto each other for a moment longer before you began to open your eyes and the pink colour of the cherry blossoms once again caught your attention.

And all to sudden the sweet moment the two of you had was ruined by the thoughts of how only a few hours ago you were begging out for the man with the diamond scars, and the feeling of regret was only intensified at the realisation that you enjoyed that pink haired man. Loving the way he made you feel.

Mother was right, you thought. Oiran’s could never be loved by one when they sold their bodies to others.

“You’re cheating on him (Y/N)-chan. Every other client you never see again but that cherry blossom haired one you see every week, he has fallen for you and you for him. It is no longer transactional, your emotions are intertwined and so are Ran’s” Michiko’s words rang through your head as you felt Ran’s grip on your hand tighten pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I love you” Ran said.

But you did not reply rather placing a soft kiss of his cheek, the kiss of a cheater.

Do not copy

138 notes · View notes

holybibly · 7 months

Text

Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader ❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut ❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love. ❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior. ❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

English is not my native language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.

Published on AO3 like FleurRi

❣ Prologue: Roses scarlet like blood ❣

Every story has a beginning: a magical, inexplicable moment—an elusive contact between reality and dreams. When thoughts emerge from the edge of consciousness, a stream of colorless letters appears on the parchment of our fate, eventually becoming an event. Life's intersections, fragments of various plots, are continuously repeated, lost, or deliberately forgotten. They are like unwritten melodies; the echo of their angelic voices follows us through life, like the bright tent of a wandering circus that incessantly makes noise. is full of tinsel, and raves with dreams.

There are millions of them. No. Billions, like the sleeping stars, sway peacefully on the sky-blue wire; their scattered light tells the wayward souls the way in the velvet folds of the night's darkness. These are our memories. Some are dazzlingly bright, as fresh as summer breezes, while others are barely flickering, covered in the marble ashes of time and a diamond crumb of emotion. And they all live so far away and at the same time prohibitively close together, there, in the labyrinth of the underground sky and on the endless roads of the blood rivers, where it is impossible to find them: in our memory.

Just as a pebble thrown into the ocean sinks into the murky depths, so does memory. Drowning into the viscous muddy depths without a bottom, in that rich and uncharted area that we call “oblivion,” it sinks in time. And few of us have been given the opportunity to preserve living images of memories of the feelings we have ever experienced: to drown in the bittersweet water of sorrow and joy; to fill our consciousness to the brim, like a vessel with golden honey, with the feelings of pain and keen passion, and to die. Die happy. The greatest privilege of all.

Seconds, minutes, days, and years—colorful fragments of time; sharp crumbs scattered under our feet. Unlike us, those who plunge into eternal sleep, our memories that have insidiously dissolved in ink in our blood will not disappear. They fear death, flee from it, and hide in the thick of the earth that blossoms with fluttering glass, forget-me-nots and drunken petunias that, in their intoxicating happiness, kiss the eyelashes of the blind God. You hear them whisper, “I’ll never forget you…”

My story begins with an innocent question that I’m sure you’ve heard more than once: “Do you like roses?”

Once upon a time, I would have answered, "Yes, I love roses." But, as it turns out, all our words are followed by consequences, and small rosy spikes can be much more dangerous than they seem at first glance, just like in the fairy tales that we were told in childhood. You know, there are things that we might call fatal: people who decide other people’s lives as long as they reach out to them like they're God. And then there are the flowers, which keep the mysteries tenebrous and ancient. I'm almost a hundred years old, maybe more. I should start my story right now; this is the perfect moment.

I will tell you about who I once was and who I am now. I will tell you about love, which is akin to obsession, and the death of her faithful friend. I will also tell you about the people, ghosts, or maybe illusions that were around me. They were with me once… Now, there are others, but they’ll be in my story later. They will come into my life with a chorus of angelic voices; the sound of a heavy autumn downpour, and the pretentious solemnity of death. Yeah, they’ll be there, though, if you think about it, they were always there, from my first breath to my last breath, by my side. But I’m forgetting what’s important. I have to tell you about the roses, and only about them.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Mina's long hair shimmered like luxurious silk under the early morning light. Bloody strands fell in curled doll curls onto her bare shoulders, as if in Baroque paintings. The lush blossoms of white roses woven together in her hair made her look like the ancient Greek goddess of spring. Her appearance has always been astonishing, blatantly perfect rather than real, but that was sometime in the past. Now she was like a pale ghost of herself, a blurry reflection on a black surface of water on a moonlit night. The only thing that reminded her of her former beauty was her hair, which remained perfectly groomed and scarlet, like blood. Oh yeah, there are still roses. These flowers… there was something unnatural about them, something otherworldly. Each petal was painfully perfect, as if made of satin. But the flowers were real; they were alive and breathing and too demanding. It seemed that just because they wanted this, Mina could wear them in her hair. It was their choice, not hers. “Do you like roses, Rosa?” · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

This is the moment when my life changed forever. If I had known that this innocent question would be the beginning of my end, but can this be called the end? Would my answer have been different?

I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Over and over again, I played this scene like a broken record, crossed my answer out of the script, wrote a new one, and made comments and footnotes, but… But the answer was the same. I couldn’t change anything; it was destined. Much later, when I fall asleep in a warm bed, I will feel a gentle kiss on my closed eyelids and hear San’s angelic voice whisper in my ear that fate is never wrong. That they would find me or that I would come to them does not matter; in the end, we would still be together in life and in death. In eternity.

I’ll come back to that later, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll continue. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“They’re beautiful, Mina, but I don’t like them anymore.” I sounded terribly rude from the outside, and I could see Mina’s eyes filled with tears, as if I had slapped her.

“But Rosa!” Mina reached out her pale arms to me. “Look how perfect they are; don’t you care about their beauty? Doesn’t your heart beat faster when you look at them? O Rosa, these flowers are special; they never wilt.” She shook her head, as if confirming her words. “Yeosang gave them to me before I left” Her long, thin fingers reaching for the white rosebuds in her hair. “I want to give you one.” Hooking the flower, Mina gently pulled it out of her curls and stretched it towards me. I didn't have the desire to accept her gift; something in her behavior and her voice caused me anxiety. And there was this name: Yeosang. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it was a long time ago, and I still remember that Mina mentioned others with that name: Hongjoong, San, and Mingi. They sounded familiar to me as a song once learned by heart. She pronounced them in a special way: with a gentle intonation and an exciting euphoria. As if it had been repeated countless times at the same completely new to her. All I could hear was the echo of that song, which came along with those names in the conversation. It was an ominous echo, like an impending, inevitable storm. Mina was still holding out a rose, and I looked at her hands. Arms with a faint web of blue veins that looked like dried stems of faint flowers. For some reason, I came up with the idea of sirens holding out their hands to pirates while their voices led them into the welcome embrace of death. Did they look like Mina’s hands now?

I remember these hands weaving long pearl threads into my hair during festivals. I remember the feeling of intertwined fingers as Mina led me down the dark corridors of my grandmother's old house. I remember them gently wiping my tears when I was rubbing my feet until I bled in ballet class.

I remember the touch of those hands… I know him. These cold fingers that so carefully hold the snow-white flower no longer belong to my sister. Their touch changed, becoming foreign and distant, as did the mysterious land where these perfect, never-fading roses grew.

Didn’t that sound like a fairy tale? Just in our history, there has been no magic mirror, no Queen-Witch whose crown shines like a star, and no apple full of poison, but there is a coffin of shimmering crystal, and a prince that sleeps in it. Of course, there are also roses—thousands of roses.

“Rosa” Mina turned to me again. “Please take them; you will surely love them. Just try to feel them…”

She put a flower in my hands. The drops of nectar froze on the wax petals, and the first rays of the dawn sun made them sparkle like diamonds. “This variety is special.” Her voice sounded soft. “It's called the Deva-Rosa. I want to show you where they grow. It’s so beautiful. I want you to come with me, Rosa. We’ll be there together, you and me.” Mina smiled dazzlingly, but something was wrong with that smile. The once-sensual kiss lips were painfully curved, the corners awfully lifted, like the forever-frozen smile of a Venetian mask, and the warm pink shade was gone.

I was always jealous of her lips. They were so tender, plump, and enticing. All her features attracted attention, but it was her lips that made Mina's beauty unique.

She shone like the sun, easily becoming the center of everyone's attention—a beautiful white swan. The main heroine of the story.

Then there was me, only a shadow of her perfection—gloomy and pale as the moon, the complete opposite of the burning heat and the sexuality of my sister. Unlike Mina's, my features were not sensual and breathtaking; no, they were old-fashioned, like those of a porcelain doll. I didn’t find myself ugly or unattractive; just ordinary. One of a hundred million. The classic tragic heroine of a Gothic novel, someone like me, doesn’t make it to the finale.

Now looking at Mina, I can no longer see her life; her fire has almost been extinguished, leaving embers smoldering. And only her hair, like a burning sunset, was the only bright spot in her appearance. They crimson her white dress like blood rivers in the snow.

“Rosa, come with me.” The touch of her hands was icy and gave me a nasty shiver. It wasn’t Mina anymore. “Let's go, please. We can admire roses together. We can be together, Rosa. Remember what we promised each other when we were kids? Forever.” Mina leaned towards me with her whole body, completely trespassing into my space, and with her intimacy came the suffocating, sugary smell of roses. It was a thick, enveloping aroma that instantly sat in the lungs. I thought that if I breathed it in deeper, these strange, unnatural flowers would sprout in my veins, intertwine with my bones, and create a new home for themselves in my body.

“No!” I exclaimed, pushing Mina away from me. “I don’t want that, Mina. I don’t want you or those freaking roses in my life.”

Suddenly on my feet, I took a few steps away from the pale Mina, who was staring at a rose that had fallen to the ground. Her posture was as vulnerable as that of a wounded animal, and her limp arms reached for the flower, which, surprisingly, began to darken and fade, touching the ground. In her eyes, once radiant with happiness and dreaming, stood tears, and her lips began to tremble. It was as if a child whose beloved toy had been mercilessly abused had fallen to her knees, picked up a dying bud, and, in despair, pinned it to her lips.

“How can you be so cruel, Rosa?” Mina whispered, her lips gently touching the petals. “You hurt them; it breaks their heart. Can’t you just accept their love? Accept the roses?” She continued to kiss the petals.

“What are you talking about, Mina? Whose love should I accept?” I asked cautiously. Her behavior began to frighten me.

“You must give yourself to them, Rosa; I must give you to them.” Mina ignored my question, methodically kissing a faded flower. His dead petals began to fall away, slowly, baring his heart. “O Rosa, the rose is a rose; the rose is a deva; the deva is a rose; is a rose.”

“Mina!” I called her by her name in an alarm. The entire situation had me in a state of primitive terror. Mina began slowly swaying from side to side in time to your words, all the while continuing to say, “Rose is a rose, the rose is a deva.” It was meaningless, like the ravings of a madman. The words were repeated in an endless circle, like a prayer or a ritual chant. Mina’s voice grew louder, higher, and higher until it broke, and abruptly she stopped all movement, standing there like a graceful statue.

Once I admired her every move; now I want to cover my eyes so I never have to see her again. What happened after became the most traumatic thing in my life. I can never forget it, no matter how much I want it. It seemed to be imprinted on my eyelids, and even after closing my eyes in my sleep, I couldn’t get rid of those memories.

Her movements were fleeting, like the wings of a butterfly. Here she is before me, tense and waiting, and then her throat crosses a ragged line, and blood rushes through her body like a waterfall.

Eyes shining from tears are wide open and so resemble smooth black pearls, and lips are opened as if waiting for a kiss. For a second, Mina's body stretched like a thin string and then softened, falling on the grass. I heard someone start screaming; the sound was so deafening and heartbreaking that I wanted to curl up in a ball and cover my ears with my hands, so I couldn’t hear.

I found myself screaming. I needed to call for help; I had to call an ambulance, and I had to try to help her. Put my arms around her neck and cover her gaping red velvet wound.

But I was yelling about something else instead. My name is not Rosa; you hear me, Mina! I am not her. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I awoke in a frenzy, sweating profusely and with a wildly pounding heart from an endlessly recurring nightmare.

This dream has haunted me for months since Mina’s funeral. Night after night, I have lived this sunrise over and over again. I didn’t like morning anymore; I started avoiding sunlight and hiding in the velvet folds of the night, sharing my loneliness with the darkness. I made the moon my friend, and the stars my silent witnesses.

My memory is folded paper, folded a thousand times. Sometimes, I want to unwrap it, but not completely: open the brittle edges of the fragile sashes, smooth out the folds and creases with my fingers, spread out the time sequence. Unwrap it just a little, and then fold again, mixing letters and days, reality and dreams. I never want to open the pages where the memories of that morning are stored. Every time I get almost to the end, moments before the final, I run away to the safety of happy days.

I try to come up with a new ending to this story, a different ending, but the dream comes to me like a cat, gently calling me into its embrace, and I find myself again in a place I don’t want to be.

It’s early in the morning, and the sun is just rising above the horizon, shimmering like a limitless purple-pink ocean.

In Mina’s crimson hair are snow-white roses, and her dress looks like an intricately woven ruffle and lace. Her pale hands holding flowers, her puffy lips in a painful smile, and her bare feet—the ground must be cold since it was the middle of October. Her blood… and the roses. And if it were possible to personify hatred and death, then for me, it would be roses.

I hated and despised these flowers with all my heart. They brought only sorrow and gloominess into my life. The beautiful symbol of mourning solemnity. They started it. They ended it all.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I was sixteen when Mina first called me Rosa. One January afternoon, she came home with a basket of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. Scarlet like the blood of a rose, they were magnificent and perfect. From that day on, I became Rosa. Why did Mina start calling me that? She never spoke. But she completely forgot my real name. For the whole world, I was now Rosa. After this case, every day in our small apartment, the roses became more and more numerous, until every inch of free space was filled with scarlet buds. Their smell was suffocating, thick, and sticky like honey. It is absorbed into the skin, hair, and dissolved in the blood. It made me dizzy and nauseous, and I could taste it on my tongue with every breath. But it wasn’t just a smell. It was a color that screamed “red,” like blood itself. It poured over our house, coloring the entire apartment in a disturbing shade.

After that, every day in our house, the roses became more and more numerous until they filled all the surrounding space.

Soon, they became so numerous that our house looked like a tomb filled with scarlet petals hanging from the ceiling. We've been arranging here with all honors, breathing in a haze as imperceptible as rose-scented mist.

In all the time I lived there, not a single flower withered. It was frightening and exciting at the same time. Day followed night, and night gave way to day; but no petal lost its pristine beauty, and no bud bowed its heavy head in sorrow. There was not a single bouquet that would dilute this velvet sea with its mourning black.

And if that did happen, Mina cried long and hard over these flowers and blamed herself for not saving them. At night, I heard the sound of her apologies and her fanatical prayers.

Whether she prayed to God or to the Devil, I couldn't tell. I'll find out for whom these prayers were intended many years later.

Roses were always sent with a postcard and a box of expensive chocolates with some intricate filling. The box was necessarily in the form of a heart. The signature was also one; once the unchanged calligraphic handwriting deduced only one phrase, “For you,”

Mina never told me who gave her these magic flowers or why the roses didn’t wither.

I tried to ask her these questions several times, but she only brushed them off, throwing her long hair from one shoulder to the other and angrily declaring, “You must love them; you don't need to know more.”

Mina also dyed her hair scarlet, like roses.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly surrounded by these flowers was unbearable, and one day I packed up all my things and moved in with a friend, leaving Mina alone in her regal rosary.

My first night away from home, away from the roses and Mina, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned anxiously in bed hour after hour; but the dream never came, and then the phone rang. Mina called. Crying, she begged to come home, and when I asked her why, she barely whispered, “The roses are wilted.”

I hung up, and Mina never called me again. Two years had passed. My life had changed, and I think my luck had smiled. I found wonderful friends who were eccentric and bright. I had a great and caring boyfriend, and the internship at ballet school was promising. Everything worked out perfectly, and there were no more roses.

Until my twentieth birthday, a huge bleeding bouquet of scarlet roses tied with topaz-embroidered ribbon appeared in my new apartment. The candy box was heart-shaped, and the caption read, “For You.”

I burned the bouquet, threw out the chocolate, and tore the note apart, and blew it to the wind.

No one was supposed to see or know. Even me. Exactly eight days after these flowers appeared, I got a call from former neighbors in the apartment complex Mina was still living in. I was urged to come and deal with the situation; the smell of rot and death was unbearable, and Mina didn't open the doors or answer the phone. I opened the door with my key. Opening it wide, I crossed the threshold and could not contain a short scream. All the once-luxurious roses had rotted, dripping thick, stinking jugs on the floor and accumulating in gleaming poisonous lakes. Every corner of the space was occupied by large vases with black velvet buds and tall candles. After my move, Mina got rid of all the furniture, leaving only the big bed, which was now covered with dried stems strewn with thorns.

This place was like a grave — cold and dark — where my sister was supposed to rest. Going deeper, I found no hint of Mina's presence. Absolutely nothing. Only putrid roses and an empty heart-shaped box.

Mina was gone. For a whole year, I tried to find her without success. Old friends, distant relatives, acquaintances, and any other connections she might have ever had—I checked everything, but there was nothing to help me find her. It’s like she never existed.

In the two years we’ve been apart, I didn’t know anything about her. Mina didn’t call, and when I tried to contact her, she would reply with a short message, always the same: "Roses have wilted; come back." just like the night I left her.

All Mina had ever thought about since that unfortunate January day were these sinister roses.

The police began an investigation. Two years after her disappearance, Mina became officially missing.

And a year after that, she showed up at my door in the twilight of the fall morning, barefoot, in a sophisticated lace dress with a rose crown on her head. From the Mina that I knew, all that remained was her hair—long, silky, and crimson like blood and roses.

She still kept calling me Rosa, calling me out, and promising that we’d be happy together. That it will be only us, forever. She promised to show me where these strange flowers bloom, which she called the Deva-Rose, although these were not her words, but those of someone distant and unfamiliar to me, Hongjoong.

And then...then Mina died. The dawn painted her body in pink shades, flooded the grass with sparkling gold, and dyed the white roses of her crown scarlet. She slit her throat. Ragged a sharp spike into it. As it turned out, even the tiniest rose spikes were deadly. It was a nightmarish and, at the same time, majestic end to her story. The image of Mina haunts me in dreams even now—this distant gaze in her pearly eyes and a complete absence of fear of death. No, Mina wasn't afraid. She welcomed death as an old friend, graciously opening her arms.

It was her exodus. I remember screaming loudly. Blood thundered in my ears, and tears flowed in an endless crystal stream. I screamed that my name wasn’t Rosa; that I wasn’t her, and never would be.

Her funeral was truly a royal one. Rain and thunder rattle in the sky, as if raising a toast in her honor. The flat haloes of the black umbrellas swayed peacefully as the guests made their sorrowful speeches.

Mina seemed to fall asleep, dressed in an old-fashioned wedding dress, lying there like a princess, drowning in thousands of roses. The flowers were brought at dawn. Their color was deep and dark, as if every petal was filled with the gloaming of the night. They mourned with me. But I knew better. It wasn’t the end; it was the beginning. Death follows life in an endless cycle of rebirth. When one flower fades, plant a new one. Back home that night, I found a black envelope at my door, sealed with a monogram wax seal.

It lacked an address and the sender's signature. The message was clear and concise. "I live for you, my Rosa."

· · • • • ✤ • • • · · I went to the window and opened the curtains with my newfound determination. It’s time to stop being afraid and run away. Whatever it is, I’ll find out what happened to Mina. Let her start it all, but I’ll be the one to finish the story. The last surviving girl.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · · How naive I was then, how stupid. The moth always flies to the flame, attracted by the warm fluttering light; he himself goes to his death.

I was that moth. Without realizing it, I came to my inevitable fate, which has been waiting for me for centuries, maybe longer. Their hands have stretched out since the darkest times, when the light didn't exist, and the Devil was as real as you and I. At that time, everyone knew his face, felt his hot breath on his skin. The story I’m going to tell you isn't going to be bright and sweet; we’re going to go down to hell and come back. I'll take you through the dark woods to the horrors of uncharted lands where barefoot priestesses rock their sharp teeth in alluring smiles. I will take you to the castle where the prince rests in a crystal coffin and make you drink wine that tastes like blood.

Now I have to ask you, "Are you afraid of the dark and what’s hidden in it?" But my question is, "Love, do you like roses?"

134 notes · View notes

sevendeadlyheadcanons · 1 month

Text

The Seven Deadly Sins if they played Minecraft

I love minecraft. Imagine this is like a modern AU but they also have all their abilities and stuff still.

-They all have a realm together. Meliodas owns it.

-Ban and Meliodas can’t build for shit and have little dirt houses.

-Elaine, Elizabeth and Diane have a cute girl house that they share (they looked up the design on pinterest) and they let them sleep there in exchange for mining goods and loot

-King builds the most extravagant house ever and Diane eventually moves in with him. He has a dog named Oslow

-Merlin knows how to make all of the potions by heart

-She absolutely stole a villager’s house and sleeps there

-I like to imagine Escanor (daytime) would hype his house up so much and be like “This house is the pinnacle of our village” and it just looks like this

-Gowther builds a humble little home. It’s very beautiful but it’s not very spacious. It’s simply good for what he needs. He got a cat called Nadja.

-Gowther is also CEO of farming crops. King is CEO of farming animals (Ban breeds them and kills them for meat when he’s not looking because King finds it cruel)

-Meliodas also has a parrot named Wandle

-Escanor writes poems in books and quills and leaves them signed as “Author Unknown” and leaves them in an item frame on Merlin’s doorstep. She knows it’s him but doesn’t have the heart to tell him she knows.

-Merlin somehow has every single rare mob in the game in little glass cases.

-Gowther doesn’t need to sleep so he stays up all night mining and everyone will wake up and he’ll be like “Hey guys i’ve got 269 diamonds you want some?”

-Merlin forces Orlandi to take over the computer and strip mine for her while she does her real life work and experiments

-They invited Zeldris and he was like “Minecraft? That’s a game for little babies. Call me when you’re playing Fortnite like real men”

-Meliodas and Ban probably fought the wither while everyone else was offline and they just came onto their game to find their village blown up and a beacon in the middle of the wreckage.

-King dies all the time to the most random shit. Lightning strikes, fall damage, baby zombies. Once he tried to prank Ban back by leading a creeper into his dirt hut but in the process the creeper got struck by lightning and became charged and absolutely demolished King.

-Diane can’t build to save her life but she takes designs off Pinterest and then pretends she came up with them all on her own

-Elaine is a god at building. She decorates their whole village with lanterns and cherry blossom petals

-Elizabeth can somewhat build but often needs inspiration

-Ban has a horse he named “Young Sheldon”

-They have a discord server and King is the mod. He has constant power trips. The only one who has admin privileges is Diane.

-Escanor kills every mob he can and puts their drops in item frames on his wall as “Reminders of the ones who couldn’t pass him”

Idk why i wrote this, I hope you guys are having a lovely day 💙💙💙

#minecraft #nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #meliodas nnt #elizabeth nnt #gowther nnt #ban nnt #diane nnt #escanor nnt #headcanons #king nnt #merlin nnt #harlequin nnt #elaine nnt

60 notes · View notes

superstarvelvet · 3 months

Text

I really forgot to update you all on my Crystal Poppy AU so let me give you the run down shall I? By the way this is literally just the description from my Wattpad that I'm making for it, my account is LampLitLies.

...

After Velvet and her brother got arrested their lives worsened. Their parents couldn't stand to look at them, their previous fans now their haters and all the respect that Mount Rageous and the world around them had for the ex-superstar twins had disappeared as if they never were famous to begin with. Velvet absolutely hated prison life though and attempted to escape, in which she did successfully, she decided to try and start their life back up.. But how could she possibly be happy now that if someone even saw a glimpse of her she'd get harassed and arrested again? That's where little miss pink-Queen Poppy comes in with her radiating Positivity enough to lure in potential threats.. And who knows, maybe those threats are old friends.

...

By the way the AU has 3 endings: Gore, Convert and Slow in which I think you can figure out what the endings will be with the names lol

Btw I'm sorry for taking so long to update

#Crystal!Poppy AU #Diamond-Blossom AU #Trolls 3 #Trolls Band Together #Trolls Poppy #Poppy angst #Trolls angst #Velvet and Veneer #Velvet #rahhhh

9 notes · View notes

taevjim · 14 hours

Text

Romancing the Viscount (m) 18+

♞ ♞

-Disclaimer: This AU is inspired by Bridgerton. I do realize a viscount is a British nobleman, but for the sake of the AU, we are going to use our imagination xoxo

♞ ♞

-Summary: For three seasons now, you had yet to have any marriage proposals under your belt. It was depressing to say the least. You have come into society as a blossomed young woman, ready for marriage, but no man of the ton has seemed the slightest bit interested in you. You’re on year three of being let off your leash into society and the pressure was certainly on for you to find a husband. You were beautiful, charming, and had incredible wit; anyone would be dying to have your hand in marriage. What could possibly be taking so long? Perhaps a viscount has had his eyes set on you all along and he’s the reason you have yet to be wed.

-Pairing: viscount!jungkook x female reader

-Genre: smut, smut, and more smut.

♞ ♞ ♞

The day started off fairly promising with the pure energy that radiated from you as you rose from the cotton sheets which kept you company at night, aiding you a good night’s rest. Your feet touch the cold floor and you spring to action as you skip across your room, your baby blue night gown trailing through the air behind you at your rushed pace. Excitement crept through your bones down to your core with the thought of tonight’s seasonal ball. Of course you had plenty of balls to attend to throughout the season, but the first ball of the season was always the most important, as well as the most promising.

Although you were gleaming with excitement, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as well. Maybe even a bit discouraged. This would be your third season out into society and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would find the man of your dreams in the near future. A girl can only hope. Many young women have had no problems snagging a husband on their FIRST year of their debut into society, so what could you be doing wrong? Surely there was nothing wrong with you, at-least you didn’t think there was.

Your reflection in the vanity mirror stares back at you as you run your nimble fingers across the soft, supple flesh of your cheek.

“Is it my looks?” You ask yourself, barely above a whisper.

The characteristics of your looks were actually quite simple. You had rather large, round eyes with perfectly curled lashes to frame the lids. A cute button nose and incredibly soft cheeks which always seemed to have a hint of pink undertones to your rather fair complexion. You were also adorned with an exceptionally full figure, making you curvy in all the right places. Never mind the fact that these characteristics didn’t exactly make you unique; you were still deemed one of the most beautiful women of the ton.

Yet, still no husband.

Perhaps you were beginning to feel a bit impatient. Of course you were. What were you to do if you go through yet another season with no man on your arm? God forbid you end up as a spinster, which might be your fate if you don’t find any eligible bachelors soon.

There were quite a few bachelors who you have set your endearing gaze upon, but unfortunately none of them have ever given you more than just a couple of minutes of sub par conversation. With questions ranging from the weather to who you think the queen’s next ‘Diamond’ will be. You’re always polite and proper, speaking with purpose and clarity. You’ve never seemed to have trouble charming your way through a crowd. You’ll never understand what the hold up could be.

Surely you should’ve at-least had ONE proposal by now, but as luck has it, it’s not necessarily on your side as of late.

Your maid rushes through the double doors of your chambers, preparing to wake you before her eyes land on you across the room while you sit at your vanity.

“Well you’re up quite early, I see.” She smiles and strides over to open the curtains to the windows, letting in the bright rays of sunlight into the four walls of your bedroom.

“Today is the first official day of the season. If I’m going to find a husband, I need to make sure I am on my toes at all times and prepared for anything,” you say as you gently pat a small dab of foundation into your skin.

Dana, your maid, gives an approving nod and walks over to begin taking the pins from your hair, allowing your curls to bounce out from their confinements and take their place down the slope of your back. You made sure to pin your hair in rollers the night before so that you could have the most perfect curls. She begins running her fingers through the softness of your locks, carefully moving the pieces of hair into their rightful positions.

Effortlessly beautiful. Exactly the look you were going for.

You put the finishing touches onto your makeup, having gone for a subtle natural appearance, and stand to finally begin ridding yourself of your nightgown.

“You’re going to do just fine this season,” Dana says as she helps you into your corset. “Don’t forget that you are absolutely gorgeous.”

The corners of your lips raise at her compliment and you turn to her with your hands clutching your chest. “You’re too kind. I appreciate the work you put into making me look so good.”

She lets out a giggle and slightly shakes her head, the front two pieces of her baby hairs swinging at the sudden movement. “Don’t be silly,” she begins, “You already have all the right qualities.” Her words pierce into your mind, almost reminding you that you should have nothing to worry about.

Almost.

She helps you into a simple baby pink gown that seems to hug your curves in all the right places. The corset is definitely working wonders on you, not that you needed to rely on it too terribly. You grab a scarf and carefully drape it behind your shoulders and across your forearms, deeming yourself ready for the day.

First stop was to go by the modiste for a fitting of your dress you would be wearing for tonight’s ball. You wanted to make sure everything would be perfect for tonight, which would hopefully grant you the success you’ve been chasing since two seasons ago.

As hoped but also a bit expected, your fitting goes by swimmingly. Madam Claire, the most trusted modiste within miles, did an exceptional job on capturing exactly what you envisioned for your gown. It was a dark blue with a suede bodice and sleeves made of silk, enveloping your arms all the way down to your small but perfectly manicured hands. The bottom portion of your dress was also silk and although it was slightly puffy, it was still quite slimming, small crystals adorned the fabric across the entirety of the material.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Oh Claire,” you gush as you do a 360 spin, your eyes only leaving your reflection in the mirror for not even half a second, “It’s everything I’ve imagined. If I do happen to be blessed to become a bride this season it’ll surely all be thanks to you.”

A slight blush creeps onto her tanned cheeks and she playfully waves a hand at you, “Oh stop it. This dress wouldn’t even look half as good if it weren’t you who were wearing it.”

The smile never leaves your face as you embrace her into a quick, but comforting hug. “Thank you so much Claire. You’re the absolute best,” you thank her and quickly undress to change back into your previous dress.

You decide to pass a bit of time as you make your way back down the street, finding a bench up ahead to sit and catch up a bit on your new book. You quite liked reading. The way words can be put together to create something beautiful was a talent that would always be incredibly admired by you. It was the way that it didn’t matter where you were, for once you picked up your book and started reading, you could imagine yourself being there in the story. Almost as if the words came alive right before your eyes.

You’ve been told by a countless number of mamas of the ton that the reason you didn’t have a husband yet was because of the fact you couldn’t keep your nose out of a book. Often being told not to “taint yourself” with such a boring and time consuming activity.

However, that never stopped you from opening a book and becoming one with the words on the page. It was like it was an addiction. An addiction you never wanted to ween yourself off of. People didn’t seem to understand the want of a woman to read, but you were never confused with the activity. You simply enjoyed it. You had even taken up quite a hobby of your own by writing in your journal every other night, explaining in utter detail of what you wanted most out of this life. Perhaps writing it down on paper helped give you the hope of it actually becoming true.

Your attention was suddenly torn away from your book as you lift your head to the sounds of women giggling a bit too loud for your liking across the street.

A group of four women stand before a man as they flutter their lashes and wave their fans inches away from their bosoms. The man in question was none other than Viscount Jeon.

He was a man of great fortune and even greater integrity. His confidence radiating from him like fumes from a flame as he chuckled at the flirting women. Viscount Jeon was definitely the man every young woman wanted on their arm, regardless of his reputation being a class A rake. Not to mention, he was drop dead gorgeous.

From where you sat, you slightly saw his side profile, and boy was it a sight. Of course you’ve seen the Viscount plenty of times, mainly at a ball being thrown, but sometimes around the square. It wasn’t hard to admit that you would never get tired of seeing him. His shoulders looked deliciously broad from where you were sitting and you quickly realized your interest for your book carefully slipped away the moment your eyes landed on his figure. A quite lean and very muscular figure, at that.

You subtly watch as the man converses with the women, making them swoon at almost every word that leaves his enchanting lips. Your eyes trace his figure, taking in the expensive material of dress he wore on his back. His coat cinched around his waist almost too perfectly, making him all the more irresistible. You catch the sight of his rings around his beautifully thick, creamy toned fingers, and let out a disappointed sigh as he moves to shove his hand into the pocket of his perfectly fitted breeches.

Embarrassment quickly replaces your neediness as two mamas pass by you, following your entranced gaze over to the Viscount. You had been caught staring. Although you weren’t caught by the Viscount himself, you still felt your cheeks get hot as you were visibly noticed practically drooling over the man.

You let out a huff of air and stand to your feet, deciding you should head back home to start getting ready for the ball.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the way the Viscount’s eyes locked onto you as he spotted you crossing the street. He has stolen many glances at you over the past couple years every-time he’s seen you. You were beautiful, that much he knew. He also knew that your debut into society wasn’t the most successful as you still hadn’t managed to find a husband which happened to be from his doing. He has never even spoken to you once but he knew the moment he laid his eyes upon you, he had to have you, and he made quick work of letting every man of the ton know that you were off limits. You, however, had no idea that was the case of your suffering fate and he didn’t plan on telling you about it either.

♞ ♞ ♞

You watch the trees go by and listen to the sounds of the horse's hooves hitting the ground while you make your way to the ball in your carriage. The leaves were a beautiful green and the grass even greener and it made you smile. You always appreciated nature and how magical everything seemed to look whenever a new season had approached. In your gut you had hoped tonight would be the night you get to meet your future husband, as you were starting to grow very tired of waiting.

A sigh escapes your lips and you look down into your lap, suddenly very interested in watching the way your fingers toyed with the material of your dress. If you manage to fail yet another season, you might just give up. You looked exceptionally beautiful tonight, even you could admit. Dana sits across from you as she watches you silently battle yourself inside your own head.

She reaches forward and places one of her hands over your fidgeting fingers and says, "You will do amazing tonight. Don't worry yourself so much, you'll create wrinkles on your forehead."

You send a gentle smile her way and caress her hands into your own. Dana had always encouraged you no matter the day or the task at hand. She was so supportive of you, never faltering. You suppose it was because it was her job, but you and Dana had grown rightfully close over the years of her taking care of you. With your mother passing at a young age and your father going over seas, Dana was all you had. You couldn't feel more grateful.

"What will i do?" you ask, "If I don't find a husband surely I'll be ruined."

She frowns at the sight of you shutting down. Truthfully, Dana couldn't quite understand how you still haven't managed to wed since your debut. There was no gossip going around of you that would potentially scare any suitors away. Your looks were most definitely not the problem, as you were incredibly beautiful, even more beautiful than most ladies she had worked for in the past. In truth, she was just as confused as you were.

"Don't talk that way. You will find a husband, I'm sure of it. You are beautiful, smart, witty, and selfless. This season will be your season." She holds both of your hands into her own and her words make you smile. You trusted her with your life and she always saw the good in you. She knew the potential you had to become successful.

Now it was just you who needed to see it in yourself.

The carriage suddenly comes to a stop before the palace and your eyes sparkle as you take in the scenery. The hedges around the property were trimmed perfectly and the lights that shined around the palace twinkled in the most captivating way. You watch as a few ladies make their way inside, fans in hand. The goal for you tonight was to shine and continue to be the one thing you ever knew how to be, which was yourself.

"Go," Dana shoos you out of the carriage and gives you another look before sending you on your way. She moves a couple strands of hair that managed to fall out of place and smiles, "Perfection."

You wave to her as you begin to make your way to the entrance, your nerves suddenly making another appearance inside of your gut. You fix your posture as you started to slouch and you carefully run your fingers across the material of your dress, trying to rid the perspiration that managed to build up because of your nerves. Taking a deep breath, you begin to make your way inside.

Your eyes take in all of the pictures that hang the walls of the hallway. It's almost like you had never been here before, although you have a couple times in the past. The first ball of the season was always held at the Queen's palace, and the Queen made sure to keep it exceedingly presentable. You stop before one picture that catches your eyes above the rest. It was a picture of the Queen and her King when they were younger. She wore the most grand gown in the photo, as she always does, and King George stood beside her in all his gory. They looked proud and emanated power as they both stared into your soul. Oh how you longed to find a love like the Queen had.

"Are you not going to go inside?"

Your head whipped to the side as you curiously look to see who was speaking to you.

It was the Viscount.

You quickly bow, not wanting to seem disrespectful. "Lord Jeon, how lovely to see you."

His eyes never leave you, not even for a second. He takes you in from your head down to your toes, as if his eyes were drawing a map across your form. You always managed to clean up very nicely, from styling your hair into the most perfect way to picking the most gorgeous gown.

You began to feel rather small under his stare, nervously switching your weight from one foot to the other. At his delayed response, you begin taking him in as well. His waist coat fit his muscular body like a glove and his breeches, even more fitting. You could almost make out the shape of his body through the fabric, your eyes trailing the material. What a man the Viscount was. You look back up to his face, finding him already staring at you, and a blush creeps up to your cheeks.

"No escort?" he asks as he looks around the, now empty, hall. It seems everyone has already made their way into the ballroom.

"Oh, no. I don't ever have anyone to escort me to these sort of things," you let out a breathy chuckle and clasp your hands together for what seemed to be the tenth time tonight already.

A small smirk edges it's way onto his beautiful lips and he holds his arm out to you. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Was the Viscount really offering to escort you into the ballroom? Surely he wouldn't want to be seen with a woman such as yourself, as you've had not a single suitor in the past two years. A man of such status would never.

However, he was the Viscount, and you would be absolutely insane if you didn't take him up on the offer.

You carefully outstretch your arm and rest your fingers into the crease of his elbow, allowing him to lead the two of you to the ballroom entrance. Your nerves seemed to spike even more now, causing you to slightly squeeze his arm. He notices the action and looks down to you, watching as your eyes bounce from one edge of the room to the other. With his other hand, he reaches over and allows it to rest on yours. This action causing your gaze to snap up to him.

"No need to be nervous. I got you." Your eyes fall to his lips as he utters the words and oh how perfect they looked as he attempted to comfort you, which had worked, by the way.

You give a curt nod and a tight lipped smile and allow him to escort you through the entrance.

Upon entry, everyone stopped their conversation and allowed their eyes to fall at the head of the room where you and Lord Jeon stood. You hear the whispers immediately from the mamas and their daughters as they wonder how you, a woman with no suitors and three seasons deep into society with not a single marriage proposal, had the Viscount on your arm.

You had to admit, you felt pretty powerful. Not that him escorting you to the ball meant anything. Perhaps he was just being nice, but you surly were not going to complain.

He leads you down the grand staircase and you make sure to try and watch your step so you don't happen to fall and embarrass yourself even more to the people who so clearly wanted to watch you fail. Your fingers tighten against his muscle once again as the two of you reach the bottom and begin taking in all the eyes that were now on the two of you. Had you been dreaming?

He doesn't make an effort to part from you, instead, he leads you over to the refreshments table and hands you a small glass of lemonade. He must have thought you were thirsty from the nerves attacking your body from the inside, which he would be right. You grab the glass and take a sip, instantly feeling a bit better. A massive sum of the people around you were still staring, but it seemed as most begin to indulge into their own conversations and even taking to the dancefloor.

A couple of women make their way to you, their fans in hand and their lashes fluttering in the Viscount's direction. You wanted to roll your eyes but stop yourself because in all honesty, you couldn't really blame them.

"Lord Jeon," one gushes as she bows before him, furiously fanning her bosom when she stands to meet his gaze. "What a lovely ball, don't you agree?"

You figured that maybe you should leave his presence and allow him to converse with the women, however, you feel his arm flex and tighten around your fingers just as you were about to let go. In turn, you decide to stay in place and you flash a fake smile to the woman before you.

"Oh," she says in a startling manner, "I didn't see you there Miss." You wanted to scowl at her for her very obvious condescending tone , yet decided against it because you were the one with the man she wanted at your side. It made you feel quite victorious in a way.

Alas, as soon as her attention was on you, it was gone in a second and back onto the Viscount. "Would you care to dance?" she asks, so shamelessly holding her hand out to him.

He gives her a warm smile and tugs you slightly closer into his side, "Pardon me, but I was actually about to ask Miss Y/L/N if she would like to join me on the floor." He looks down at you now, you not quite registering his advance just yet. You only look up to him when you see the woman in front of you shoot a venomous glare upon you.

"Of course," you say, barely above a whisper. You wanted to laugh in her face and maybe even throw an unpleasant gesture her way, but in turn you make the decision to be as graceful as you can in the matter. You turn to set your half empty glass of lemonade on the table behind you and allow him to lead you onto the floor.

If everyone was staring at you before, they surly were now as the two of you take your places into the center of the room and begin to dance. It was apparent to the Viscount that everyone in this room was envious of you, although you weren't aware. He knew every man wanted to have you and every woman wanted to be you. He couldn't blame you too much for your lack of observation because in your defense, no man had approached you for anything more than small conversation, too afraid of what the Viscount may do had they made an advances onto you.

"You must pity me." The words come out before you can stop them and you let out a small laugh. He ticks his head to the side, very obviously confused with your comment.

"Pity?" he questions. "Why would I pity you?" he follows up with another question just as he slightly spins you, pulling you in again.

It took you a bit off guard with the close proximity between the two of you being incredibly evident. You look up at him through your lashes and let out a small sigh. "Lord Jeon," you begin. "I just want you to know that you don't have to feel bad for me. I may not be able to get a husband but it doesn't mean I need you to try and help me."

Now it was his turn to be slightly taken off guard. You thought he was only being in your presence so that he could bring more attention towards you, in turn, helping you find a husband. You become quite nervous at his silence and the way he just stared at you, still dancing without missing a beat.

"You think I'm only dancing with you to help you find a husband?" he asks, spinning you another time. Your eyes drift slightly to the outskirts of the dancefloor, noticing how everyone was watching the two of you. Quite a few faces of disapproval look back at you and those of admiration aimed at the Viscount. Of course they were only interested because he was here.

"Is that not what you're doing?" you ask as you turn back to look at him. You were slightly surprised to see the longing in his eyes as he stared back at you. How could you possibly think he was only interested in helping you? How could you not know how beautiful you were, how the room went completely stiff upon your entrance? And now as everyone stops and watches the two of you dance together, you still think you aren't good enough to be looked at.

He shakes his head at your question and slightly dips you. Your breath quickens, as does his at the sight of your hair completely separating from your shoulders and fully exposing the expansion of your chest. Your bodice fit your body to perfection and in this moment it proved much more evident from what he observed upon first glance of you out in the hall.

You're picked back up into his arms in a rather slower pace than you expected, now rising to see his eyes buried into your skin even deeper than they were before. It's crazy how one can have such a way with words solely based of their eyes alone. His eyes spoke more than his mouth ever has, at-least to you, and it took your breath away. You can't help but just stare back, practically feeling yourself getting lost.

Unexpectedly, he leans closer and in a whisper he speaks, "You're entirely too beautiful to be pitied."

His words were soft and kind, and everything you didn't know you longed to hear from someone else. You certainly didn't expect them to come from a man of his rank. For a moment you don't know what to say and you don't catch the smirk that inches onto his face as he gently pulls you from the dance floor, you not realizing the song ended.

Among the next hour that passes, you and the Viscount fall into effortless conversation. He tells you of his travels and many successes in his life. He also tells you his name, Jungkook. You would never call him by his name, of course, but the fact he even felt comfortable enough to tell you raised a certain spark inside of you. You learned that he's kind, smart, and also quite funny. He had you giggling more times than you can count at his quick wit and charming playfulness. He also learned quite a bit about you, that you love to read, you liked to take your horse out to the field and enjoy fresh air and nature in general. You also shared his trait of being goofy and playful as the two of you threw jokes at each other here and there throughout the night. The biggest thing he learned was that your giggle was a sound that he truly felt blessed to be able to hear, causing him to not be able to stop coaxing that sound from you with his words. He wanted to draw that sound from you all night, never wanting it to leave his head even for a second.

A couple more hours pass and you were so embedded into your conversations with Jungkook that you didn't realize the ball was coming to an end and people began spilling out of the ballroom. Jungkook watches as your curious eyes sweep across the room and observe everyone as they ascend back up the stairs and out into the hall.

You turn your head back to Jungkook, once again catching him already looking at you, and you nudge your head towards the exit, "I think it's time the night has come to an end."

"It doesn't have to end though," he blurts and your eyes slightly widen. You try to process what he means by that as he grabs your hand into his and leads you both out of the room.

As you make your way outside you instantly notice how chilly the air has become, feeling the way it slightly licks at your skin, leaving goosebumps in it's wake. Jungkook notices and inches closer toward you, hoping he can radiate some body heat your way.

"That's my carriage," he says and points to an elegant looking black carriage pulling up to stop in front of the two of you. How would it look for you to be getting in his carriage with him at the end of the night? You look around you, watching to see if anyone notices. Everyone already looked down upon you as it is, so how would they react if they noticed you riding away with their lovely Viscount?

You feel a hand at the small of your back, slightly causing you to jump when you realize Jungkook is carefully pushing you towards the carriage for you to get in. Damn what the ton thinks, you think to yourself. You were certain Jungkook wouldn't put you in a position to have you under such scrutiny. You hardly knew him but you trusted him.

He slightly gulps as he catches sight of the stockings you wore as you lift your dress a little to climb up into the carriage. It made his body shudder as he was confronted with the pure want and need he had towards you, and yet you were all the more oblivious. He knew he wouldn't be able to get that image out of his head for quite some time.

He climbs in after you, settling into the seat across from you and instructed his driver to take the two of you to the nearest park. Before you can question him, you stop as you notice the sheepish look on his face before he spoke, "I thought we could sit and talk a bit more."

You smile at his words and give a small nod, yet you find it hard to look away from him. Usually you loved to watch as the trees passed by while you rode, enjoying and taking in the nature around you, but you simply couldn't tear your gaze away from him. Evidently he couldn't either, his eyes boring into yours with a sort of intensity.

One minute he's sheepishly smiling at you like a boy being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and the next he's looking at you like he wants to tear your clothes off in that very moment. Admittedly, it makes your head spin. You slightly adjust in your seat and his eyes snap down at the movement. He felt as if there was a fog in his head, weighing down so heavily that he couldn't think straight when looking at you.

"Thank you for being by my side tonight. It was quite unexpected but I very much enjoyed it," you said, trying to break the ice and the staring contest between the two of you.

He gives you a boyish smile and nods in agreement. "It was very nice," he states, "I wouldn't have wanted to spend my time with anyone else."

His words take you back slightly. He didn't even know you, and to be quite fair, he has never really showed an interest in you before, so why now?

"Why tonight?" you ask, your judgement getting the best of you and causing you to blurt the question before you can think twice.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks into your eyes, into your soul. "I know it must be a surprise that I've shown up out of nowhere tonight, but to be honest, I've had my eye on you since you first debuted into society."

Now his words really caught you off guard.

You shake your head in confusion and lean forward yourself. "What does that even mean?" you ask, "You've had your eye on me for two years yet never spoken a word to me. Why?"

He can't really give you the answer that you deserve when it came to that kind of question. He really didn't even know the answer to it himself. He knew he always wanted you but he never found the right time to make it clear to you.

"My duty as a Viscount has kept me very busy these last few years. I haven't been Viscount for very long so when that role was passed down to me, I had quite a few tasks thrown at me, on top of my journey's to other countries. I couldn't find the right time to talk to you." You slightly squint your eyes at his confession, still not fully grasping the fact of why he never once acted on the way he's telling you that he's felt for quite some time.

On the other hand, you were confused how he even had an interest towards you at all. You always thought the men were repulsed by you, hence the fact you were still unmarried, not even being courted by any of the men of the ton.

"I'm just confused," you start, "I've only seen you a few times and in those times I've seen you, you've never once noticed me."

You begin to feel nervous under his intense gaze, not being able to read the emotion that currently flashes in his eyes. "Not that you've noticed," he admits, "I've seen you many times and trust me when i say, I can't help but notice you when you are near."

He slightly scoots closer, carefully grabbing your slightly shaky hands to hold into his own. The feeling you have when he's so close or when he's looking at you the way he is, is a feeling you can't describe, but it's also a feeling that you don't want to stop feeling. Ever.

You look down into your lap where your hands are connected and smile at the way his thumb caresses your skin, "I thought all of the men around here were repulsed by me." You look up and meet his confused stare.

"How can you believe such a thing? You are absolutely one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid my sights upon," your breath hitches as his hand comes to cup the side of your face, his pinky finger tracing down the skin of your neck so gently, "I knew when I saw you that I needed to have you." The last sentence comes from his lips in a whisper and you almost feel as though you are in a trance, just staring into his eyes, not able to notice how close he has managed to get to you now.

Is this a dream?, you wonder.

Out of everything that has happened to you over the past couple years, including tonight, you knew only one thing. You wanted the Viscount. You wanted him more than anything you've ever wanted in your life and now that he's right in front of you, sitting so close you can feel his breath tickling your skin, you didn't care if it had been a dream. You suppose there's only one way to find out if you truly are just dreaming.

You lean forward a couple more inches and plant your lips onto Jungkook's, instantly sighing at the sweet taste of him. He wastes no time in kissing you back, reaching up to grip both sides of your face with his hands. Turning your head slightly, he gains more access to your mouth and can't help but run his tongue across your lips, almost begging you for entry, which you grant to him with no hesitation. He kisses you as if his life depends on it and you realize you've never felt so euphoric in your entire life until this very moment. You pull away suddenly and only now you notice how he has sunken to his knees before you, looking up at you as he anticipates your next move.

You've always loved looking at the man before you, even if you never noticed him looking back. You've always dreamed of the day you got to run your fingers through his silky hair-

Giving into your thoughts, you reach up and slowly bury your fingers into the tresses of his black locks, meeting his gaze half way as his eyes bore into yours, almost pleading you. This was the second time tonight that Jungkook has made you feel so powerful. The feeling was addicting.

You run your fingers through his hair and rest your hand on the back of his head, biting your lip at the sight of him so vulnerable before you. He groans and rushes in to push his lips against yours with a force that has your back resting against the seat now. He never lets up, kissing you as if he's scared you'll be pulled from his embrace any moment now. Goosebumps rise on your skin a second time tonight as his fingers inch across your collarbone and carefully push your dress down your shoulder.

He pulls away and almost whines at the sight of your skin becoming more exposed to his eyes. Who knew he would be so hard at the sight of a woman's shoulder, for Christ's sake. You didn't quite realize the affect you had on the Viscount just yet, but he intended on showing you.

As fast as he pulled away, he leans back in even faster, attaching his lips to the underside of your chin. His lips move across your skin with such fever, it practically makes your head almost spin of your shoulders. You've never felt such...bliss, and he was barely even touching you.

Almost as if he read your mind, his hand slowly travels down to your ankle, pressing his fingers against your skin, before his hand disappears under your dress and dances up your leg. The softness in which he touched your skin left a fire in it's wake, making you slightly shake in excitement. He gives a warm smile at your reaction, indulging in the sounds your heavy breathes make. He watches the way your chest rises furiously, suppressing a groan at the perfect sight that was you.

He gives a questioning look as his fingers reach the inside of your thigh and he doesn't even need to ask before you're already nodding your head, looking at him pleadingly, which further drives him even more mad for you. Your small hands grip the expanse of his broad shoulders, the same ones you were drooling over earlier in the day, and your head leans back, the feeling of his fingers ghostly dancing over the material of your undergarments. His lips finally press against yours once again as he firmly presses his fingers against you, drawing the most beautiful sound from your throat.

It was hard for him to believe how warm and soft you felt against his rough fingers. He presses his fingers even further against you, becoming addicted to the way you felt under his touch. In turn, more noises were drawn from you and he knew he would never get tired of the way you sounded. He pushes your dress up so he can see the way you look beneath him and the sight is enough to turn a man insane. The expanse of your think thighs adorned in the beautifully delicious stockings you chose to wear for the occasion, almost calling his name to keep his eyes on you.

"Please," you whisper.

His head snaps up when he hears your whimper, the look on your face taunting him, coaxing him to touch you further. Jungkook likes to think he's quite the strong spirit, but he's never felt weaker as he has kneeling before you now. He gives into the soft sounds you make just for him and pushes his fingers past your undergarments, fully touching you. You instantly gasp and push yourself up further into his embrace, shocked by the feeling that was currently running through your body. You've never been touched this way and you were almost angry that you didn't get to experience this until now.

The only barrier between the two of you is broken as he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, watching intently at the faces you make. You let out a drawn out moan and pull him closer until his face is practically into your neck. He takes the opportunity to plant his mouth against your skin, feeling your pulse beneath his tongue, and you shudder at the warmth that consumes you.

"You're so perfect," he grunts as he pushes his fingers deeper, causing you to gasp for the millionth time. His eyes fall to your chest once again, watching it rise and fall almost in a pattern. He's thrusting his fingers into you faster, with more purpose, manually reaching inside of you for the delightful sounds you offer to him so easily.

You thread your fingers into his hair again, ever so slightly pulling when he reaches a spot inside of you that has your toes curling. He was making you feel so wonderful, a feeling you never wanted to go away. A feeling you wanted him to provide for you every single day as long as you live. Your eyes flutter open as you look up at him, the sight causing an unfamiliar feeling to bubble inside of you. His hair was slightly damp from sweat, his eyes producing a fire you've never witnessed, all the while his fingers moved inside of you much faster than before.

There's a feeling rising inside of you that causes you to arch your back and slightly constrict your legs around Jungkook's incredibly lean waist. The sounds are pouring from you now like a mantra as you desperately claw at his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer to your form.

"You can do it baby," he whispers, egging you on before planting his face into your chest and beginning to take the supple flesh of your breast into his mouth. That's all it took to have you falling apart beneath him. Your muscles constrict and his name comes flowing from your mouth like a chant, further proving to him how undoubtedly perfect you were.

You lay still, breathing heavily as he removes his digits from your body and smooths your dress back into place. He carefully places your sleeve back up your shoulder and pushes a piece of hair behind your ear. You watch him the whole time, admiring how determined he looked. Your words were hidden in your gut as you keep your eyes on him. Soon, you realize his carriage stops before his house and you turn to him, confused.

Jungkook hops out effortlessly and holds his hand out to you. "Well, are you coming?" he asks.

Your eyes scan before his home, taking in the beautifully structured building. As you part your lips to ask him why you were here, he steps closer and gently caresses your chin in his hands.

"If you're to become by wife, you need to meet my family."

♞ ♞ ♞

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkoooook #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #smut #drabble #1800s #bridgerton #fanfic #viscount jungkook

45 notes · View notes

marvelmusing · 10 months

Text

Toying with You

Part of the Glitter & Gold AU

Pairing: Modern!Darklina x Fem!Reader

Summary: After spending the night at Nikolai and Zoya’s house, you wake between Aleksander and Alina. It isn’t long before their hands begin to wander.

Warnings [18+]: smut, fingering, use of sex toys (vibrator), mentions of sexual activities (spanking, bondage, sex toys, overstimulation)

A/N: set immediately after Like A Diamond, not extensively proofread

My Masterlist

Even on your days off from work, you often wake up early. It used to frustrate you a little, being unable to enjoy a long sleep in, but this morning you find yourself glad you had woken up a couple of hours after sunrise.

After the events of last night, your body had been cosy and sated as you lay between Aleksander and Alina, though with the knowledge of their presence - and their bodies so close to yours - it hadn’t taken long for need to blossom in your core.

Luckily, the two of them had been in a similar mindset, taking turns to press soft kisses to your neck and along your shoulders as they talked quietly. Aleksander’s morning voice is low and husky, while Alina’s is soft and heavy. They both settle into your mind easily, filling your head with debauched thoughts and fantasies, especially when they begin to tell you about their personal preferences.

Neither of them like being spanked, though Aleksander admits that he enjoys giving someone a spanking - as long as his partner is enthusiastic about their enjoyment. With her delicate hands, Alina can’t muster the same level of force as her husband, so she prefers to use toys for impact play. There’s a dark mischief in her voice that makes anticipation thrum beneath your skin at the thought of being at their mercy.

They tell you that the punishment Aleksander likes to give Alina usually consists of bondage and overstimulation, the mention of which makes your thighs tremble. Imagining Alina, her hands bound to their headboard with silk ribbon, her legs spread as Aleksander makes her come undone innumerable times, has you grinding against the mattress.

Then Alina rolls over, reaching into the bedside cabinet drawer to retrieve something.

She pulls your panties aside, moaning lowly when she finds the fabric soaked with your arousal. A whimper escapes your lips as she parts your folds, an awestruck expression filling her eyes as she looks down at your squirming body.

“Can Sasha have a feel of you, baby?”

You give her a rather dumbfounded nod, turning to glance at Aleksander as he slips his hand into your panties. His fingertip circles your clit eagerly and you buck your hips forwards at the sensation which makes them both laugh quietly. The look they exchange between one another has desire thrumming through the flushed bud of your clit.

“Such a mess already, milaya,” Aleksander coos with an indulgent smile. “Would you like Alina to play with you a little?”

Breathless from their attention, you nod again.

There’s a low hum that buzzes to life and you realise what Alina had retrieved from the bedside drawer - a vibrator. She tilts her head aside, watching your expression turn expectant and she runs the toy down the length of your inner thigh. The vibrations have pleasure prickling over your skin and desperation pools in your stomach. An deep ache gathers in your core as the idea of her pushing the toy inside you consumes your thoughts.

She only indulges you once you begin to beg weakly, tugging on her wrist to place the toy where you need it most. The amount of arousal smeared over your thighs and mount has a soft flicker of embarrassment brushing over your cheeks, though they both seem pleased at the sight of you so wound up. Aleksander holds onto your hip, keeping you in place as she pushes the toy into your dripping cunt.

The vibrations have you whining loudly, the end of the toy nudging a hairsbreadth away from your most sensitive spot, making you grind your hips upwards in an attempt at pushing it deeper - much to their amusement.

Then, much to your confusion, Aleksander hands your phone over to you, turning it on for you and instructing you to google a particular brand. Heat burns down your body and your cunt clenches rapidly around the vibrator when you realise they want to shop for sex toys with you - right now.

It’s unbelievably hard to concentrate on anything, as they compare the merits of particular toys, considering what they could do to you - or each other - with the toys displayed on your screen.

Alina nestles her body closer to yours, slipping her hand between your thighs to push the vibrator deeper inside you. A low moan catches in your throat as the buzzing sensation thrums against your sensitive walls and your eyes flutter closed, your teeth gritted tightly.

“Do you not like that one?” she asks quietly, nodding towards your phone as her nose traces over the shell of your ear.

Lying on your side, facing away from Alina, with your phone in your hand, you struggle to focus on the image on your screen. At Alina’s question, Aleksander lifts his head up slightly from the pillow. From his place beside you, he can’t see the image though it seems to have roused his interest nonetheless.

“Let me see, milaya.”

Heat prickles over your cheeks as you tilt the device backwards for him to look at. His brows furrow lightly as he studies the image, though there’s a playful glimmer in his dark eyes when he says,

“Explain it to me.”

Subconsciously, your hips roll forwards, seeking some pressure against your dripping entrance. The vibrations of the toy inside you and the arousal smearing over your thighs has your body burning with heat as you stare at the silicone toy on the screen in front of you.

“Well…” Alina strokes her hand down your abdomen, fingers grazing over the soft hairs there and you struggle to gather together the words necessary for an explanation. “That end would go inside Alina, and it would vibrate, while the other end would go inside me.”

He hums quietly, a thoughtful expression on his face as he refuses to acknowledge the waver in your voice.

“Or,” he suggests. “We could slip the vibrating end into you, press that little nub in the centre against your pretty clit, and lie you down on your back so that Alina can fuck herself with the other end.”

The breath halts in your chest at the thoughts spilling into your mind, thoroughly inspired by Aleksander’s suggestion.

While Alina’s teeth drag over your earlobe, you imagine her straddling your lap, breasts bouncing as she moves up and down over the toy that would be inside both of you.

A shiver runs down the length of your spine at the sensation of her suckling the soft skin beneath your ear. Aleksander slides his thigh between yours, pressing the firm muscle against your cunt.

The world blurs momentarily and a desperate noise escapes your lips. He asks you several questions about the toy, his voice light and conversational as if your mind isn’t melting into a puddle. He asks you to explain how many speed settings there are and the dimensions of both ends of the toy.

Alina’s breathing is heavy against your shoulder as Aleksander muses quietly about whether she would prefer the thicker end for herself. She whimpers at the teasing lilt in his voice and you ache at how casually confident he seems. Alina buries herself into your back, her arms winding tightly around your waist so that she can rock her mound against the curve of your ass.

“Put it in the basket, baby,” Alina whispers against your neck, a desperate edge to her voice as she trails a slow path of kisses along your thundering pulse. Her teeth graze over your skin, a sign that she’s being drawn into your pleasure as she bucks her hips greedily over your curves.

Aleksander takes your chin between his fingers, guiding your eyes up to lock onto his as he scours your expression for any discomfort. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes and you squeeze them shut tightly. He appears to notice the slight softening of your brows as you blink rapidly, the edge of your orgasm spiralling in your stomach.

His hand settles on the soft plush of your thigh, occasionally gripping onto your hip, pinning your twitching cunt down against the flexing muscle of his thigh. Heart hammering in your chest, you grasp onto them both, gripping Alina’s arm and scrambling at Aleksander’s chest as your pleasure peaks. The back of your head knocks against Alina’s shoulder as you writhe between them both.

A gasp catches in your throat as you climax, a small moan breaking free from deep in your chest as you come undone over Aleksander’s thigh. The feeling of your cunt twitching, the fine hairs on his leg brushing against your skin, has you shivering as the waves of pleasure roll through your body.

Alina turns the vibrator off once your whimpers turn sharp, your body on the edge of overstimulation - which you aren’t particularly in the mood for this morning.

The two of them continue to layer soft kisses over your skin as you slowly come down from your high. A bead of sweat traces its way down the length of your calf and you can feel another on your hairline where you had pressed your face into the pillow. Heat flows beneath your skin as your heart pounds a steady rhythm, fuelled by the dizzying orgasm.

It takes quite some time for you to sit up with the intention of going to the bathroom. Alina offers to help you make the walk, which you decline with a shy smile.

For a long moment, you sit on the toilet seat, staring at the faint grooves in the wood of the closed door, painted a glossy white that shines in the low light. There isn’t a single part of your body that doesn’t feel warm and blissfully light.

They are both sitting up in bed when you return, Aleksander leaning against the headboard with an arm splayed behind his head, whilst Alina sits at his side, facing him, with her legs crossed and her brows furrowed as her thumbs fly over the screen of your phone.

The door shuts smoothly behind you and the two of them lift their heads to look at you, slowly walking over the plush carpet towards them.

“What are you doing?” you ask her.

“Adding Aleksander’s card to your phone’s wallet.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you insist quietly as you reach the edge of the bed. “I can pay for my own things.”

“We know.”

Aleksander takes hold of your chin, leaning forward to kiss you gently. After one brush of his lips against yours, he furthers the kiss, sinking his hand into your hair to pull you closer and you clamber over the sheets towards him.

“I want to spoil my girls,” he admits between kisses. “Let me spoil you.”

“And ruin you a little,” Alina adds with a small laugh. You grin at her, turning your body so that you’re lying between the two of them.

“Okay.”

She smiles widely, reaching to grasp the back of your head to kiss you, her tongue swiping over your lower lip.

After weeks of fantasising about the two of them, with teasing touches and conversations that have left your panties soaked, the fact that you can reach out and touch them - kiss them even - seems surreal.

Alina traces her fingers gently over your inner thigh and you hum quietly in pleasure as your eyes flutter closed and the side of your head sinks into the space between her neck and her shoulder. Aleksander presses a kiss to your temple, his hand smoothing down your side.

There’s the sound of movement downstairs in the kitchen, no doubt from Nikolai and Zoya as they begin to assemble breakfast for their guests, and hunger stirs in your stomach at the thought of the spread that will soon be awaiting you at the dining table.

Alina stands, shrugging on the silk bathrobe that has been hanging over the chair beside the vanity table. She smiles at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead and you lean into her touch eagerly.

“Breakfast?” she asks.

You nod with a smile.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

#glitter & gold au #darklina x reader #darklina x reader smut #aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #aleksander morozova x reader #alina starkov x reader #darklina au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

154 notes · View notes

baby-jaguar · 6 months

Text

Meeting Kyle

Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope

WC: 3,120 CW: None

AN: GAZZA BAYBEE! This is my first time writing for Gaz and I know it's not much, but I hope to portray him as something we can all enjoy. Would love to hear your thoughts and comments, as well as any questions, my asks are open. I hope ye enjoy <3

Please see the Introduction for the explanation and precursors to the scene.

Introduction, Biography

--------

The quiet of the night emanates with the crickets chirping, small scuffles of feet around the block, and a handful of buildings creaking in the late-night wind. You can barely see the outline of words using the dim street lights to help you read over the candidates.

No… No… Yes.

Your eyes, and faint tug of your heart, settle on Kyle’s advert. In a hopeless romantic fashion, you could feel the daydreams begin.

Folding the paper and stuffing it in your shirt, then glancing around before heading off to your home, you walk with a rushed sense of urgency. Everything good, bad, and ugly, flys into your mind. This could be a trap, what if he isn’t who he says he is, what if hundreds of others have already written to him?

Well, it's better than this. It's a quick scan of the hazardous and dirty mess that rages inside your house walls. Passing quickly to your bathroom, you take out the paper again before looking in the mirror.

Can you see yourself in the low lights of a saloon? Helping old bastards get drunk after a day of hard work, smiling sweetly, or raising a fist when needed? Can you hold appearance to being a town favorite so he would get good business?

Your mind steals your active attention while bathing, letting the lukewarm water wash the day’s dirt away from you. No criminal record? Check, and with no debt. No early mornings but now late nights? That's a life you could get used to. Attractive? Well shit, if the politician sought you out, then yes. You’re quite the diamond in the rough.

As if you were in a spell, you blink and break the dissociation you entered to realize yes, you could see that for yourself. You can. Could. Would.

Now in your bedroom after the bath, you quietly maneuver the floorboards to cut any chance of waking up your parents or any sudden appearance that would erase this mission of yours.

Now being able to read, Kyle was one of the younger candidates in the newspaper and even from his short paragraph and singular photo, he seemed like a man who was down to earth. Maybe someone who knows how to have fun, but has enough structure and discipline for himself to become so successful at such a young age. In your writing, you tried your best to express your goals, how you could help his own, and how you could blossom together in his new beginning.

The next few days were filled with constant anxiety and metaphorically looking over your shoulder. Acting like a nervous dog as your parents began to crowd you with an overbearing sense of control. A child with a leash on, constantly trying to pull away.

The 5th day after sending your correspondence leaves you will a dejected heart. Now on the farm working, you heard the bell attached to the mailer wagon approach the gate. Common for you to take the mail for the Laswells, you head to take the mail but give a confused glance as the mailman hands you a letter while reading out your name. “This one here ‘s for ya.” Is all he supplies before heading back down the road to continue his route.

A neat and small scrawl is seen across the front and is enough to make your heart race.

Kyle expressed himself very well; his boyish charm and a hint of his flirty attitude already coming across. Describing himself as friendly, outgoing, and respectful. He confided in how he feels most alone when the customers leave, when he gets into bed in the cold chill of the night, alone.

Even in his writing, his charming and playful lines were able to make you smile, having to bite your lip to keep your bubbling excitement inside. The words he uses, and the sweet-toothed candor in his writing show a difference from your upbringing; daddy and mommy issues on your end, if you will, while the feeling of his young soul shines through with assuredness. You and Kyle wrote of both wanting someone to make life feel easy. Kyle wants to find his muse; the inspiration to his business and light up his world on the cloudiest of days.

In the dark of the late evening after leaving work late, you head to the post office to collect an expected letter. A common habit now so you could dream of him and any fantasies your mind could create. Now just entering the 6th week of exchanging letters, you stand shocked as you re-read the page.

“... I hope to see you soon, enclosed is the means to make it my way. Cheers to you honey, I’ll be waiting for you…”

In your hands lays your one-way ticket to get out of your contained life. In his letter and now in your hands are directions, a map, and a one-way train ticket for you to leave home.

The thrum of your blood is loud in your ears, louder than your footsteps running across the ground. Making your way back home, you begin packing what you’ll need for the barren desert climate.

Fully awake and adrenaline pumping, you slink into your house with practiced ease and silence to determine what you’ve walked into tonight. From the hallway, you can see your parents strewn across their bed with measured breathing; It's safe to move around and get yourself together.

It's an hour later when you make your way to leave, yet when passing through the living room for one last look, you decide to get a small keepsake to celebrate your new beginning while simultaneously giving a big fuck you to your parents.

Plucking a set of fine glassware of your father's, the ones that he valued more than keepsakes from your parent's wedding, the soft clink of the glass buried in your bag brings a sweet grin to your lips.

You’d scold yourself later for not taking a bottle of whatever liquor was there but wouldn’t want to test your luck by getting drunk when it was your first time on a train.

The trip was only four days long, not leaving you with much time to prepare to meet Kyle. Instead, you begged your mind to create a true representation of him, re-reading his letters often as you imagined him. The times that you were able to sleep with the soft lull of the train were filled with possibilities of what your life in a budding environment, alongside a man who had built his life up from scratch and stayed so charming through it all.

On the train into Northern Arizona, the red rock was enchanting, to say the least. Arriving late into the morning on Saturday, you take a mildly comfortable pace after stepping off the train station to make your way to the center of town with wide eyes as the glimmer of the early morning sky creates a calm blue haze.

It takes a bit of time before you walk far enough to come across the sign painted atop a brick building in the the upper edge of Main Street. You could laugh about how lost you knew you looked, but before stopping to ask someone, the creme-colored letters Free Falling Saloon appear before you.

Taking a moment to commend yourself for making it this far, a steady breath draws in and out of your lungs. With a small flutter in your stomach, you push open the saloon doors and are greeted with the sight of the bar; stained oak and birch woods, various colored glass bottles lining the back wall, dried animal skulls hung up, cowboy hats, sombreros, and a large mirror that has a ledge full of lit candles.

The loud sound of a crate being put on the bar makes you startle, hand jumping up to your chest before your eyes find the source of the noise.

“Sorry, pardner, we ain't open till-” The smooth voice rings out with a dreary tone- making him seem tired of probably having to repeat this line over and over again. After a moment, his warm deep eyes move up to find yours but his jolt of surprise doesn't escape you.

His eyes, body, and soul, seemingly freeze as he sets his eyes on you and stares. Granted, you're staring right back while the pull of a growing smile begins to pull at the edge of your lips.

His facial hair isn’t much, but it's enough to shape his face and make him seem like he’s a bit older than the photo he sent. His hair somewhat short and in tight curls on his head, making him have a unique style he could probably attest to developing from home.

Your stomach does flips at how stunning he is, but when he smiles- All gods be damned. He’s the finest man you’ve seen and you wonder if you’re going to chase off harlots from stealing him every night.

“Hi, Kyle.” Is all that leaves you, and it's monumentally soft in how it leaves your lips, making you swear you could see him melt a bit.

The movement of his mouth catches your eyes but the lack of sound coming out draws a soft peal of laughter from you. Taking a step forward, he matches you while bumping into a few glass bottles along the way.

Your bags make soft thuds against the floor, both sets of footsteps soft with trepidation yet building excitement. Each set of eyes scans the other, with sincere and almost unapologetic disbelief as you come face to face.

He whispers your name out in amazement, raising his hands to cup your face. “You’re real… You’re really real.” He breathes, voice soft. His inviting eyes drink in your appearance while his smile grows, and then feel yourself pulled into a tight hug in his strong arms.

A soft noise of surprise leaves you, arms trapped within his hold making you laugh in response. Settling to wrap your arms around his waist, you squeeze right back. He smells like citrus and hints of cinnamon amongst it.

When thinking of the Arizona Territory, you thought it would be the rumored dry barren desert that holds tales of ghost stories; Unbearable heat that beats down and leaves many delusional for an oasis. But him. Kyle. He’s the damned warmest thing you've wrapped your arms around.

But hey, you’ll probably become delusional for this man too.

“You’re real.” You copy back with a muffled voice. Basking against his muscled chest, which you will return to later, you peak up. “Thought this was some dream like I was going crazy coming here.” The addition is a soft and unconfident reply, possibly gaslighting yourself into still believing so.

The rumble of his soft laugh brings a sweet vibration to your chest, "I know, Honey. You're safe now, you're home." He assures while moving his head back slightly so his face is now a few inches from yours, smiling softly. “I wrote you way too much to let you get stuck in some sort of dream world without me. Hardest parts’ over.”

Affirming his response, a grin plants itself on your lips as you hum lowly. “Hardest parts over.” You parrot back with relaxed accomplishment.

The arms around you give a tight squeeze, and the warmth of his lips presses against your forehead. “You’re gonna make me crazy. Can already tell.” He murmurs, the easy smile held against your skin, and you already want to curse yourself for letting him make it seem so easy. Why not let him?

Before you can respond, he takes a step back to look at you, his brown eyes sparkling in the flickering light of the room."You wanna see our place?" He asks curiously, stepping forward to take your hand and guide you to a door behind the bar, a tucked-away staircase hiding beside a wall of crates. "You're not gonna wanna leave once you see where you'll be stayin'. Let's set your bags down first, though." He laughs, confidently leading you while intertwining your hands.

You’re greeted with an apartment-style home; An eclectic mix of furnishings, all the way down to the pictures and artwork on the walls. It's a mix of Western and Southern charm, with just a hint of New Orleans to signify where he’s from.

A couch sits against one wall near a bay window, the curtains drawn back to let in the sunlight. A kitchenette rests in the corner of the room, and you see a separate room that appears to be a bedroom. There is a large bay window at the end of the room, facing the view of the Jerome hills. Kyle motions for you to follow him to the bedroom.

“It ain't much, just a cozy place for two,” he says softly, moving close to you again as he steals your bags and gently rests them atop a dresser.

In truth, he’s right. It’s not much, but it's a beginning for both of you that he has just a bit of a head start on. Yet, it's so much more than you’ve hoped, dreamed, prayed, screamed, and cried for. Just a little piece of heaven to have and to hold.

“It’s us. That's all that matters.” You say, now walking slowly towards him to scan over the view that the bedroom window offers.

You can feel him staring, see him doing it too from the corner of your eye. “What?” The question tumbles from your mouth, turning to him with an eyebrow raised.

He smiles for a moment, chuckling before shaking his head. Slow steps, 1… 2… 3… bring him close enough to pull your hips and bring you towards him. “You’re right,” He whispers, pausing to smile and look at your lips. “Just us.” He answers in a hoarse murmur, leaning in closer and you can feel his breath across your lips.

“Is this where I say thank you for letting me be here?” You ask, eyes falling to his lips in response. There's a sweetness to this moment, that makes your head feel so light and clear while you can barely feel your heartbeat. It's something you’ve never felt before- because you haven't. Not this, not anyone like him. His hands reach forward to find their place on your jaw, the warmth of his palm grounding.

A huff of air leaves him, making your eyes flutter. “No, this is where I thank, you, Honeybee.”

His kiss is gentle and sweet, the gentle drag of his thumb across your hip bones adds to the warmth that floods your chest while his light stubble rubs against your face. Your arms travel up to wrap around his neck, adding to the invitation to make him stay, keeping him so close.

A groan leaves him, his hands squeezing the flesh on your hips before moving to wrap around your back. “You’re gonna be trouble, baby. Here you already makin' me wanna do nothin’ n’ lay in bed.” He grumbles lowly, nestling into your neck with a warm laugh.

You can feel the chemistry building, the close contact, and hold on each other making the scene grow more intimate. He draws a breath in, stealing another kiss from your lips before moving back and directing you to the dresser. “Here's where to put your things, le’s get you unpacked and comfortable. How's that sound?”

Nodding in response, you work on organizing your belongings while he makes room in a few drawers and half of the closet to accommodate you. “Woulda thought you’d have more than this sweetheart. Not keen on carrying much?” He asks, tone curious but a bit playful with the lazy grin on his face.

A small scoff leaves you, not in disdain of him. “Nah, wanted to get to you quick. But didn’t have much that was worth bringin.” You shrug in reply. “Honestly didn’t know what kinda weather was out here, thought I would be melting already.”

Kyle leans against the wall where the window is, watching you cross back and forth between the dresser and closet while deciding where to hang or fold your clothes. “I could get behind that.” He hums for a moment before looking into the distance. “I’ll have to tell you how I traveled all ‘e way out here. Had a few trunks to my name and got a whole wagon to get me out here.” He laughs, a sigh of a breath releasing from him as he recounts whatever memory plays in his head.

“What, you didn’t wanna make it in halfa one?” You respond quickly, almost like it's your second nature to be a little shit, now having the freedom to have some fun and relaxation of your personality.

He thinks, stares, and tilts his head. “You think you’s funny, yeah?” He asks, arms crossing over his chest with a Cheshire grin growing over his lips.

At this point, you think that maybe you should be giving this man more respect, maybe you should already be kissing his feet and thanking him for allowing you here. Eyes widening, your hands fly up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t- I don’t mean any-”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head, bringing his hands out to catch yours when he steps to you. “Hey, hey. No, you’re okay. I know you were havin’ fun.” He comforts soothingly as his eyes scan yours.

Your eyebrows de-furrow, your mouth closing, but there's still a bit of alarmed widness in your eyes as you make sure he isn’t mad. “Thought I overstepped. ‘M sorry.” You whisper as your eyes dart over his face for any hint of emotion.

Something in Kyle shifts, a small and almost remorseful smile rests on his face. Are you that obvious? No, per se, since your situation is pretty damn unique.

“Hey.” He starts, “I want you to be comfortable here. You’re not gonna overstep. And if there ever was a situation where you did, I’ll let you know.” His hands bring yours up to his lips, laying soft kisses on your knuckles. “But please, please, tell me if I’m outta line with you. I know we ain't got much space but if you’d like me to sleep on the couch for a bit while we get to know each other, I will, Honeybee.”

In all honesty, you could cry. You didn’t believe in men like this being real, not after the shit you’ve seen. Could this be your lottery ticket after the amount of pain life has put you through?

Fuck, maybe. As long as you get to keep him, you’re in.

72 notes · View notes