#HES ENDING EARLY MY PRAYERS HAVE WORKED

[fatuismooches]

i don't know if this is how i request so i apologise if i get anything wrong!

could you please do the childhood crush with capitano but instead of capitano, it's pantalone? it's okay if you don't wish to do this!

(p.s. this is my first time requesting, pls go easy on me)

♡ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 ♡

synopsis: When you were a child, you decided to befriend an orphan who always seemed to be by himself. He would not forget this act of kindness.

includes: pantalone w/ gn! reader

notes: Of course, this was quite fun to write! I hope you all enjoy it. (It gets very fluffy towards the end <3.)

Sneznhaya was one of the worst nations to be poor in, you decided from an early age. You had to have some kind of thick jacket to survive even the warmest days (which was still borderline in the negatives) otherwise you would die so quickly from frostbite. You had to have some kind of fireplace in your house and also a stable firewood source otherwise you’d freeze to death too. You had to be smart about preserving and salting your food because of the cold, and much more difficult tasks that would be easy to do in other nations. All of these factors were part of the reason why orphans did not last very long, unfortunately (unless you were pulled into the House of Hearth… would that be a blessing or curse?)

Even though you were dirt poor, you were still more fortunate than a lot of people in poverty. You had a house, albeit a small one. You had a bed, though it felt like a stone-cold rock most of the time. You had parents who cherished you, although sometimes you did not see them for the whole day since they worked hard so you could go to school instead, even though you should have been working to bring income in. Of course, you kept all of your complaints to yourself. You were far better off than most kids.

The first time you met the boy was on your way home from school. You had exited the raggedy building when you came across a boy with rather well-kept hair. Usually, the children around the slums were untidy and uncaring about their appearance. Yet his looked fine, at least better than average around here. But what drew you in was his brilliant purple eyes. You had never met anyone with that eye color. You didn’t realize you were staring at him until you noticed his eyes were on you. Your words died in your throat of embarrassment, so you quickly nodded your head at him and speedily walked away.

You hoped that you wouldn’t see the boy again, because you didn’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye again. You were the kind of person who cringed at even the slightest dumb thing you did a long time ago and knocked your head against the wall thinking about it. But, it seemed that the Tsaritsa did not answer your prayers because you saw the same boy again the next day. And the next day. And for the entire week. And soon, you realized that his eyes were always trained in the same direction - the school. You connected the dots quickly, mentally prepared yourself for conversation, and strode up to him.

The boy immediately noticed you as you pressed your back against the wall, leaving a bit of distance between the two of you. You didn’t want to invade his personal space.

“So, I’ve seen you here every day. How come?”

Silence.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

Silence.

“You want to go to school, don’t you?”

“...!”

The boy’s breath hitched for a second and you knew you were right. He turned his gaze from you and looked back at the building, where children were being dismissed. You didn’t need to ask why. It was obvious that he had to work instead to survive. The two of you stood in silence when, all of a sudden, you came up with a genius idea.

“How about I teach you instead?”

The offer had the boy’s neck snapping back to you. “What?”

“Yeah! After school ends, you can come to my house, and I’ll teach you what I learn, and other stuff too. It’ll be like real school, minus the yelling and the crowds and the other annoying things!” The idea seemed better and better the more you spoke. 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise but a look of caution quickly overtook his face, purple eyes conveying a look of distrust.  “What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your motive? Surely you don’t think I’m that naive to believe you.”

You were taken aback. “I-I mean… I don’t really know what to say. I’m just a kid, I don’t really know what ulterior motive I would have. Does wanting to become friends with you count as one? You really look like you want to learn, so I just wanna help you,” you said plainly with a hint of confusion in your voice.

For the second time that day, the boy was taken aback, because he could see that you were being genuine and he couldn’t understand why. You were being kind from the bottom of your heart, and he couldn’t comprehend why you would do this for a stranger.

You tried to ignore the piercing look the boy who was only your age managed to give you. “So can I assume you’re taking the offer? I’m [Name] by the way!”

The boy uttered his real name, and everything began from there.

Every day you invited your newfound friend into your house. Your parents were never home until late, so it was easy to do so. And so began the lessons of you teaching him everything you knew and learned in school. You taught him how to curve the letters of the alphabet correctly. You helped him to learn to read your favorite children’s books. You told him what you remembered of your teacher’s boring rambling about Snezhnaya’s history and that hey, oxygen came from trees! (He knew that, the boy said. He wasn’t that dumb. You pouted.) But the thing he was best at was math. As soon as you taught him the basics, he was speeding through the questions faster than you.

You watched in amazement as he whizzed through the questions without even needing to use his fingers to add (which you still did sometimes, embarrassingly enough.) He was completely focused on it, writing his answers in handwriting that got better every passing day. And soon enough, he handed you his answers to check. It started to become less of a surprise when he got all of them right on his first try, as you compared his work with the one from your homework. 

“You got all of them right again!” you cheered as you shook his shoulders in excitement. “Haha, you’re better than me at this point. I can’t do mental math as well as you can.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.” If there was one thing you knew about your friend, was that he was a good sweet talker. You’d seen him talk his way out of situations that you would surely die in, and also compliment you like it was nothing.

“At this point, you can become an economics! No, wait… I think it’s called an economist? Or an accountant? Something to do with numbers and counting!”

Something twinkled in his eyes. “Do you really think that?”

“Mhm! You’re the smartest person I know. You adapt to everything so quickly. It took me a long time to get these concepts down yet you did it easily.”

The boy did not say anything but his shoulders relaxed under your touch, and then he spoke. “I’m going to become rich.”

“You are?” you asked, hopping onto the chair next to him. Everyone, regardless of anything, has dreamed of becoming rich. But the way he said it with such firmness had you drawn in.

“Money is the lifeblood of this world. No one can survive without it,” the hardened and steely look in his eyes and voice made you stiffen for a second. “Even the Gods desire to let it flow between their fingers.” 

You looked at him for a few seconds before grabbing his cold hand and squeezing it. “I believe in you,” you declared resolutely. Your friend’s harsh look dissipated and a smile came onto his face. You loved it when he smiled. “Just remember me when you’re rich. Share a bit with me, hm?” you laughed.

But the boy did not laugh at what you meant to be a joke. “I will,” he said firmly. “I’ll give you as much as you want and more.”

Since then, you spent more and more time with him, even outside the regular tutoring sessions. Once you had opened yourself up to him, he had responded somewhat in kind. He liked to talk about things he read in the paper after you taught him to read. Out on the streets, he would ask you about words he saw on shop windows’ he didn’t know yet. Your favorite activity was when you’d give him something to read out loud to you, enjoying how his stumbling grew from frequent to occasional. But when it came to other topics he kept his mouth thin and shut. You never commented on it, but you could see he didn’t have a good relationship with anyone else. It seemed that he held some kind of animosity toward a good chunk of people. Especially the upper class, even some of the kids as you noticed that some of them weren’t very nice to him. Even the Gods themselves weren’t spared from this.

You didn’t know what kind of childhood he had, and you didn’t pry. It wasn’t your business, and furthermore, you wanted him to remember the happier memories he made with you instead. You showed him how to build snowmen and snow angels. You once threw a snowball at his hair and immediately regretted it as he launched a tickle attack back at you. The orphan was your best friend and you soon realized that you had a crush on him. You would lie in bed, rolling over as you thought about the kind of wedding you’d have him with. You would have kids and then the two of you would soon be grandparents and then the house would be so much more lively and fun and- you smushed your face between your pillow. Enough of that! You first had to make sure both of you survived this hellish place to even make it to adulthood.

It got to the point where you wanted to share some of your meager rations with him too. He was always hungry, and you were too but you wanted to help him out as much as you could. You would sneak a good portion of your bread or anything that wasn’t messy under the kitchen table, slip it into your sleeve quickly so your parents didn’t know. You gobbled down your sparse dinner in seconds, not wanting to leave your friend standing outside in one spot for too long. You went into your room and quickly locked the door, glancing at the window near your bed. You pulled the curtains to the side, and there he was! Opening your window always warranted a flurry of snow flying into your face but seeing his face light up was worth it.

Years passed, and the two of you were older, almost adults. You had left school since the only available schooling in the area was for younger kids only, and now worked in a miserable job like most people. But you always made sure to try and visit your long-time friend, who seemed to be busier and busier these days. You had a feeling he was up to something, whether it was good or bad, legal or illegal, but you didn’t pry. His absence had begun to cause you to seek out other company, for it was not good for one to be left alone in their thoughts in this kind of situation. 

Who was your company? The neighborhood kids, of course. They reminded you of when you were younger, even though it was just a few years ago. They always gathered around you when they had time off from their barely paid labor, and you made sure to teach them the same things you taught your crush a few years ago. But you soon learned, it was rather hard to do that when they were so exhausted from working. Tiny hands were already calloused from the back-backing jobs and they were asleep in an instant afterward.

So you did what you could. Having a couple of hours of rest made a big difference to growing bodies, you reminded the kids. You took their shifts on different days and at different times, making sure you wore as many layers as possible so you wouldn’t be caught. The employers wouldn’t take much notice anyway. They didn’t care who did it as long as the work was done. The only thing you did not anticipate was your long-time crush finding you. 

“[Name]?” The callout of your name made your heart freeze. “Don’t worry, it’s just me.” You then recognized the voice as your childhood friend. Turning around, you pulled down the hood and uttered your friend’s name, which you cherished dearly.

“I was looking for you, and I find you here, working in someone else’s place. What are you doing?” The boy’s voice was hushed, laced with a hint of something else underneath. Worry. Concern. Distress. What if you get sick? Get hurt? Get caught?

“Look… I did not mean to worry you. I just, it hurts me to see the little ones spending so much time working. I just want to help them.”

The boy had known you for many years, yet neither his mind could ever comprehend why you were so kind to others. It never benefitted you, only served as extra weight and a burden on your shoulders. “But you already have long shifts to work. Your body can’t handle this…”

“Hey, who was the one who managed to run away with you all those times? I’m pretty strong! Furthermore, as long as I keep the hoodie up, they won’t recognize the difference. Those people don’t care as long as the work gets done. They’re just little kids, you know. Just like we were. Some of them haven’t even learned proper Snezhnayan yet, but they’re out here slaving away and working to the point of exhaustion. I just… can’t. If I can help them keep even a fraction of a childhood intact, I will.”

The boy’s heart was moved by your kindness innumerable times. “But, aren’t you just a kid as well?”

“I am,” you agreed. “But I’m still an older one. Just a bit more until we’re adults, you know. I’ve already had my time. I’d rather help the others now. Besides, it builds stamina and work ethic,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Your friend didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could really say, after all. This was just how life was like. But it was days like these where he remembered the promise he made to himself and you - neither of you would have to deal with this ever again, soon.

The boy moved to help you, which surprised you. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been wanting to spend time with you for a while. I’ve missed you.” You blushed and nervously laughed at his straightforwardness. He could either pretend to be oblivious to your intentions, trying to make you say what you wanted out loud. Or just be so blunt that it caught you off guard.

“Heh, I’ve missed you too. You know, I have a good story for you…”

Since then, your friend had popped up more and more frequently, making your lovesick heart pound. Even if you had nothing left to talk about, you made something up, if only to keep him next to you for a few more minutes. You think he knew what you were doing, but he didn’t comment. You loved him for not exposing you like that. Despite the circumstances of your life not being very great, you always felt great around him. Until one day, you woke up with a splitting headache. Odd, but not unbelievable. You must have pushed yourself too hard yesterday. Your body feels so, so cold, but you have to go… have to go to work, and see your friend. You inched yourself to the edge of the bed, but you did not make it to the end.

You woke up to the hazy sight of your parents and a man. Presumably a doctor, considering how awful you feel right now and his white lab coat.

“It seems your child has… they must have stayed out in the cold too much… overworked… the medicine is quite expensive though, at least… that’s the minimum though…” the words were blurred together for you. Despite your fuzzy mind, you already got the gist of what was going on by the pain-stricken look on your parent's faces. They couldn’t afford that. You went back to sleep.

The next time you were woken up by the voice of the one who held most dear. You didn’t open your eyes, but you knew he was there, from his comforting voice as he stroked your arm. “I told you… overdo it… but that’s just how you are… too kind… make sure… better… love…” Your consciousness drifted away again.

The next few days you did not remember well, until your parents barged into the room with tears in their eyes, holding some sort of package. A sip of water and something fell down your throat, and you were soon asleep again.

You woke up the next day, feeling significantly better than before. Your parents were moved to tears, and they quickly recounted what had happened. Someone knocked on the door, and when they opened it, there was nothing but a package and a note left there. Inside was the medicine you needed, yet they did not know who placed it there. But you already knew the only person who’d do that for you.

You recognized the handwriting on the note as your friend’s. It was almost laughable. When you were first teaching him, he could barely form the letters properly, but he had practiced far more than you ever did, resulting in the pretty curves of words on a surprisingly strong piece of paper. You idly wondered how he managed to get it.

This medicine will make you better. Don’t worry about how I got it.

I have decided to leave this place for a while and pursue the dream I told you about. At first, despite my resolution, I was not sure how to go about it. But after seeing the things that happen to you, to a good person, I made up my mind to attain what I desire.

I would like to write more, but I’m afraid I do not have the time right now. But, do not worry. I will come back for you.

Please don’t push yourself too hard until then. I promise, soon you will not have to suffer any longer. Until then, thank you for believing in me.

The note ended there.

Even though your mind was still fuzzy from the fever, the contents of the letter quickly snapped you out of a stupefied daze. He left? Just like that? Of course, you weren’t mad at him for leaving. After all, you encouraged him to go for it, to at least try so that he wouldn’t meet the same fate as most people who lived in the slums did. But you didn’t even get to say goodbye. No hug or anything. No time to tell him how you felt. The reality of that made your heart sink.

You weren’t able to leave bed for a few days but as soon as you felt better again you roamed the streets, looking for the familiar tufts of black hair. You trudged through the thick snow, checking all possible spots he could be in, but to no avail. He was gone. It was as if he never existed too - the only thing you had to remember him by was this note. You thought about him every day, hoped for his success in his endeavors, and a small part of you hoped he thought about you too.

When you became of age, you were approached with an offer from the Northland Bank. You’re completely baffled at first, and a bit scared. Mostly Fatui members worked there, and why would they approach a low-class citizen like yourself too?  But the offer was too tempting, the money calling your name and empty stomach more than ever. Your position was one of the lowest, simply making sure you had a perfect customer service smile as you directed customers where to go for their issues, but it paid damn well compared to the jobs in the slums. You worked hard and humbly, unaware your job was pulled behind the scenes by a… certain rising Fatui member.

A few years went by, and your position only went up. You weren’t really sure why when there were much more qualified Fatui workers than you but you gratefully accepted it. You had gotten used to the daily routine of greeting customers and helping them with their accounts. A while ago, you remember the bank being in a slight uproar over something.

“What’s all the commotion about?” you questioned. The bank was usually a quiet place.

“Northland Bank is now under the control of someone new! A new Harbinger has control of all the banks now!”

“Oh really? I didn’t expect that.”

“No, no, no - it’s not just that. You need to look at the picture of him. He’s jaw-dropping!!” your co-worker squealed as they shoved the newspaper into your face. You chuckled and dropped your eyes to the paper, but your smile immediately disappeared, and your face contorted into one of disbelief at who you saw. You snatched the paper out of their hands and practically pressed it to your face.

It couldn’t be. But the hair, the way his lips curved, the flutter of his eyelashes when he smiled. It was way too similar. You skimmed the article for more information. Pantalone, the new ninth Harbinger, was now the wealthiest among them… in charge of Snezhnaya’s economy and money supply… ambitious and promising.

You shakily put down the paper. The one in the papers was your childhood friend. So this was where he was all these years? Working for the Fatui? He’d been in the same nation the whole time and you didn’t know. But, that was a relief at the same time. At least he wasn’t somewhere far away.

“You looked like you’ve seen a ghost,” your co-worker chuckled. “Did his beauty stun you that much?”

You nervously chuckled and nodded in agreement, trying to organize your thoughts. Your childhood friend had achieved the dream he told you about so long ago. He didn’t just become rich, but a Harbinger at that, one of the most powerful positions in Snezhnaya and the world - he became Pantalone. And furthermore… he had grown up to be such a handsome, classy man. Your heart raced just thinking about him, as all the childhood memories rushed to your head. Did he remember you? No, no, that was countless years ago. He had the most luxurious life one could ever imagine. No way he would remember the random friend he made that long ago.

But that was okay, you thought as prepared to start working again. You were okay with burying these feelings again. You would be happy seeing him from afar, happy that he was living the life he deserved.

A year or two had passed since Pantalone was officially inducted as a Harbinger. Even though you decided you would be happy observing him from afar, it didn’t stop you from cutting out the articles of every newspaper Pantalone was in. You couldn’t help it - it had been so long. When the Harbingers were gathered in Snezhnaya, you’d brave the crowds and peer around for him. Some days you did not manage to see him. Your view was mostly obstructed by the cheering citizens, but one day, you were able to see him up close. It took your breath away. He was ethereal… You had to beeline it out of there before you started to get too emotional. The only thing you had yet to be aware of was that the ninth Harbinger himself saw you. Yes, he had always been keeping a close eye on you, staying his distance only for your safety. But that was soon to change.

It was another normal day at Northland Bank. The only noteworthy thing was that someone important was set to visit soon, so everyone was expected to be on their best behavior. It wasn’t anything new though - many people wanted to see the richest bank in Teyvat.

“[Name], could you go retrieve the documents of this client for me, please? Their name is…” your co-worker called. You nodded, after all, you had to return some files to the room as well. You got up, hands full, and headed to the room when your co-worker called for you again. 

You turned around to face her and kept walking backward, ready to listen to her request when suddenly her face turned very pale. It looked like she was mouthing something to you and making an ‘X’ with her arms. Of course, you were confused by this gesture, so you turned back around to see what was wrong. But your vision was blocked by a black wall, one that had bits of blue and silver embroidering it, and before you could stop your legs from moving, you walked smack right into it.

“Watch it, dear,” a pair of hands reached out to steady your shoulders. “Make sure to watch where you’re going, hm?”

Your heart felt like it was stuck in your throat. That sleek voice was all too familiar, and the feeling of the bands of bejeweled rings through the gloves was a tell-tale sign of who it was. The visitor to the bank today was the Ninth Harbinger, Pantalone, and no one told you.

“Such a hard worker, aren’t you? So diligent,” the voice purred, his arms moving from your shoulders to down your arms, smoothing out your clothing and releasing you. Should you look up? Would that be disrespectful? You should respond though, right?

“Yes,” you said meekly. “Yes, sir,” you quickly corrected yourself. A moment of silence passed, and you think he was expecting you to raise your head, but you kept your stare on his well-polished shoes, which probably cost more than everything you own.

“Excuse me then, sir,” you stated timidly, desperate to get out of the situation. Before Pantalone could say anything, you bowed your head even more and speedily walked away, making sure to lock yourself in the files cabinet room. If you could scream right now, you would, because what the hell just happened?!

Outside, Pantalone was left with his usual smile. But inside, he was truly pleased - he was finally able to touch you after countless years. Oh, but the way you didn’t even look at his face left him slightly wounded; he wanted to see your eyes tremble with emotion and see your soft lips up close. But he did not need to worry. He would be seeing much more of you after all. Walking out of the bank, he left everyone in shock.

You prayed that you would not have to go through something like that but nope. Every day, Pantalone would come into the bank with the excuse of inspecting and observing the premises. But you knew that was a damn lie because all you could feel while you were working was his gaze on you. He would not hesitate to come up behind you and watch you work, making you nervous and almost mess up, with his silky compliments going to your head. He smelled so good and his hair bounced with practically every step, his voice had deepened to a velvety smooth one. 

It was impossible for your childhood crush to not come creeping back up. The only problem was that you could not bring yourself to muster any conversation, so it was primarily Pantalone speaking. The only thing he managed to wring out of you was “Yes, sir” or “No, sir.” The most embarrassing part of this was that everyone in the bank knew what was going on. Yet the Harbinger did not seem to care. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, as if he was sending out an undeniable message that said “They’re mine.”

Pantalone knew he had many admirers, people who lusted after him and his wealth. Yet the only one he had eyes were was you - the only person who had stayed with him since the miserable days of his childhood. He had been separated from you for so many years, building his reputation and wealth, slowly but surely, keeping you in mind as he worked tirelessly. Even when he became a Harbinger, he had to keep his distance and sort out any possible enemies. But now, he could finally have you all to himself.

Pantalone had caught you after your shift ended. As soon as you exited the bank, he was right there waiting for you, with that smile you deeply loved yet would not admit. You looked to the sides to see if there were any possible ways to escape, but he had trapped you.

“My dear [Name], why don’t we take a walk together? The weather is not too bad today.”

And that was how you found yourself in your current situation, walking side by side with your crush. Your throat felt dry as Pantalone spoke.

“You’ve been quite cold,” he feigned hurt. “It wounds me so that my dear childhood friend would forget me.”

You don’t know what came over you, but you immediately responded to that. “I didn’t forget. I could never forget you. I remember everything,” you blurted out swiftly. “I just,” you stopped walking and stared at the snow-covered path, thinking of what to say. Pantalone stopped walking too. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, I do very much in fact, it’s just that I don’t really know how to act since you’re a fancy Harbinger now and I’m just me, a normal person. And I didn’t really know if you’d still wanna talk to me since you have way better people to interact with anyway, and plus-”

“[Name],” Pantalone interrupted you. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, you dragged your eyes from the ground to his face. His smile was gone, and his expression was unreadable, but he spread his arms to the side and uttered two words. “Come here,” he beckoned. That was all you needed as you jumped into his arms, pressing your face against his chest. 

His hand stroked your hair and you melted into his touch instantly. “Darling, I can’t fathom how or why you would come to such a conclusion, but it’s quite the opposite. You are the only one who occupies my thoughts. The one who was the only light in my childhood. The one who saved me and helped me, expecting nothing in return.” His voice was soft as he held you tighter. “You are the only one I want.”

Your heart rate had increased significantly at his declaration of love. This was too much to process, so you opted to just squeeze your arms around him tighter. He got the message and allowed you time to take that in. Finally, you lifted your head up and peeked at his gorgeous face.

“Are you mad at me?” you said regretfully.

“I can assure you I could never be upset at anything you would do. That face is too adorable to be mad at,” he chuckled. You gritted your teeth. Why did he have to be so damn suave all the time?

His finger came to hook under your chin, making you raise your head more. His thumb playfully stroked your lips, wanting nothing more than to claim them as his.

“May I?”

You did not respond and instead jumped at the opportunity to surprise him, capturing his perfectly soft lips in yours. Clearly, he was not expecting that as his eyes widened, but he promptly bounced back by responding with more passion. And Archons, it was amazing. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but he took control flawlessly. He withdrew from the kiss, enjoying your breathless expression.

“I’m taking you home, to your new home,” he corrected himself. Smiling at your wide-eyed look, he pecked your lips again. “Surely you did not think,” he kissed you again, “that you would be away from me now? You’re going to live with me, of course.”

“I d-didn’t know we were just diving straight into- mhpm!” Your lips were not being spared from Pantalone’s greedy assault.

“I have had to deal with being away from you for years, not being able to feel you or talk to you, dealing with people who meant nothing to me. Do you know how painful that was?” Pantalone spoke genuinely and cupped your cheek. “I hope you do not plan to deny me, for I intend to spend as much time as possible with you starting now.”

You reached up and intertwined your fingers with his hand on your cheek. “Well… that sounds very good to me. I’ve missed you so much,” you agreed shyly, gazing into his loving eyes.

“Good,” Pantalone placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we, my love? Ah, and we’ll have to organize a new wardrobe for you, meals, products, assigned maids…” he continued to list off new items that you would have. (He promised the best for you, after all.)

You sweatdropped, slightly lost at his rambling. Did you really need all of that? But, you’d think about that later. You tugged at his arm, interrupting his mumblings.

“Come on, let’s go home, okay? I have a story I’ve been wanting you to read for me…”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone fluff #pantalone genshin #pantalone #genshin impact pantalone #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers

[starsxblazing]

Im sitting in the dentist office and my brain just thought of an azriel x reader fic / alternate universe where he and Elain have a baby or child and reader is the nanny. Its azriels pov mostly as he falls for reader while elain is still debating about lucien. And reader well shes totally oblivious of azriels attraction towards her.

Oblivious Attraction

You sat in front of your vanity while debating on how exactly you should present yourself. It felt as if the bar was set far too high for you to reach but you never turned down a challenge. There were so many different options but decided on a business casual outfit. You decided on a cobalt blue collared shirt paired black slacks and slip ons. As you began your work to form the loose curls, you ran through every possible word or conversation.

Your resume with great references made you a top choice for employment. Children were your passion and being a nanny was a perfect job for you. The hours were long but it never mattered to you even though it left hardly no time for a social life. That wasn’t a big issue either in your opinion because you felt fulfilled in life. 

The drive through the nice neighborhood had you enamored with the beautiful homes with matching or complimentary to the others. It was nicer than you had originally thought and it made it a bit intimidating.

You took a deep breath as you parked your car, muttering prayers to whatever force was above to be on your side.

Azriel watched as Elain flitted around the kitchen to get the remnants of breakfast cleaned up before leaving. An interview with yet another possible nanny would be happening within the next ten minutes and he was ready to get it over with. All three candidates had great resumes as they required but the first two hadn’t felt right in their opinion

It was important to the both of them to have the perfect person to care for their daughter while they worked so having someone that they felt that they could trust was imperative. His work hours were long and whereas the mother of his child’s was shorter, she usually spent her time elsewhere when she got off. It grated a nerve that the female was absent from the home so often but he had stopped complaining. 

What was supposed to be a one night stand had turned into weekly occurrences that ended up with her pregnant. For that simple fact alone, he had moved her into his home in hopes that something more would form other than physical attraction. It hadn’t gone as he had hoped but they comfortably coexisted for the sake of their two year old.

He knew that her attention was torn between him and another male, a fact that he had only learned by accidental chance. Even though it hurt a piece of his heart, he always felt as if he couldn’t fault her for it. She deserved more, especially when he wasn’t able to give her the time and effort that she obviously needed.

A knock on the door had him pushing the thought of Elain and Lucien out of his mind, feeling hopeful that their last contestant would be the one. They truly did need the help and time was of the essence. He was shocked when he opened the door, the beauty of you taking his breath away. Their last two prospects had been older but he wasn’t expecting a beautiful female around his age to be standing on his threshold.

“Oh, you’re early!” Elain exclaimed happily with Sophie following close behind. “Hello!”

Azriel glanced at the clock and you were five minutes early. Confidence emitted from every fiber of you, especially when Sophie looked up at you with a smile. His own hope began to cement when the girl’s smile was returned with a gentle one that set the room at ease. 

Elain guided you to the couch in the living room where they held their previous interviews. His daughter climbed up beside you, talking the best that she could at her young age. It was something that Sophie hadn’t done with the previous two so Elain and himself waited patiently while watching you engage with her.

“We’re so glad to have you here,” Elain started with a smile. “She seems to like you already.”

“She’s a delight,” you laughed, gazing at the girl momentarily with a tender smile on your face. 

“Your resume is impeccable.” He gauged your reaction but your confident expression as you held his gaze and found nothing negative about you. “It is rare to find someone so young with extensive experience and references.”

“I’ve always loved children.” Your voice didn’t shake and you didn’t cower under both of their watchful gazes. “I started babysitting at sixteen and I found my first job as a nanny at eighteen once I graduated.”

“You have extensive education.” Elain scanned through the classes that you had completed in college. “Early childhood education, special needs education, First Aid and CPR certifications, and multiple language classes. You were also in the top five of all of them.”

“All of said classes coincide with your first nanny job.” 

He had memorized your entire career timeline that also paired with your education. You still didn’t shrink from the question and he noted the hint of pride in your eyes. If what he was assuming was true, you had every right to feel that way about yourself.

“With my first official nanny job, I took classes online and then night classes for the ones that required me to be physically present.”

“Did that affect your job?” Elain countered, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“Not at all.” You shook your head as if in disbelief that you would be questioned about it. “I loved the two children that I was caring for and it was completely my pleasure to have every moment with them.”

Your answer was so genuine that he knew that calling the parents wouldn’t be needed. He also didn’t need to question your love and passion. Not when his daughter placed herself in your lap in contentment. The air around them was so light and it was a feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Do you have any concerns with the cameras within our home?” He watched your reaction carefully to see how you would react. “Some have had concerns about them.”

“Why would I be bothered by that?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “I don’t see why it would ever be a problem for a parent to not be concerned enough about their child’s welfare to check in when a stranger is keeping them.”

To him, that was answer enough for him. Even as Elain continued to ask you questions, he kept his eyes on you with a hint of adoration filling him at the sight of you and his daughter.

Once the interview was over, you spent the rest of the day bonding with Sophie. Elain had left shortly after the interview had wrapped up and you were left alone with Azriel. You knew that he was watching you carefully and you didn’t mind because you would have done the same thing.

“We never did go over all of the requirements for my job,” you started as you sat beside him at the table while Sophie ate her lunch. “I want to be sure that everyone is happy with the work that I do.”

“Well, she will be starting school soon so it would be beneficial to be sure that she is on track with the other children,” he replied thoughtfully. “Along with housework and errands that we are unable to do ourselves when needed.”

“That’s more than reasonable but with the agreed upon salary, I was expecting more,” you mused, more to yourself than him.

“Believe me when I say that with Sophie alone, you will have your hands full,” he chuckled, his hazel eyes shining with amusement.

 “I wholeheartedly look forward to it.”

You grinned at him and he only gave a small smile in return. The day was relatively simple and you were relieved that he didn’t constantly hover. He would come into his daughter’s room every so often to see how the both of you were getting along and seemed content.

By the time that you got home, you were exhausted enough that you didn’t bother with anything other than falling into bed.

Azriel had taken the previous day off of work simply to see how you were with his daughter. He was confident that they made the right decision and his daughter listened to you better than she did her own parents most of the time. You appeared a bit hesitant to leave when it was Sophie’s bedtime but left without a fuss.

Two hours had passed after his daughter had been in bed when Elain finally came home. A hint of cologne was on her but he said nothing as usual. He wished that she would make up her mind if she wanted to truly be with him instead of them being in this inbetween state in their relationship. The fact that the mother of his child was still entertaining her ex had once been somewhat of a sore spot that was now numb.

A month passed without any issues with you and Sophie was so smitten to the point that she hardly asked about why her mother always got home so late. He was always so exhausted when he came home but you never failed to have a hot meal waiting for him. It was something that he had never had and your eyes lit up every time that he thanked you. A spot in him warmed every single time that he saw that beautiful smile on your face just as it did seeing you interact with his daughter.

The slow feeling of longing began to form around that time and he got off of work as early as possible whenever he could just to be around you more. You always greeted him warmly in a way that he hadn’t felt from Elain since the first month of their ‘relationship’, leaving him craving more and more each day.

He stopped caring about what hour that Elain came home, enjoying your company more than he ever had hers. Small touches were exchanged every so often, a small brush of his arm against yours in passing or a gentle brush of his fingers over yours. No matter the subtle signs that he tried to give, you seemed completely oblivious.

“How was your day?” you asked as the three of you ate the food that you had prepared that afternoon.

“A bit stressful as usual,” he admitted, adoring the small frown that formed due to the fact that you cared about his well being. “But overall, it went well.”

“I much prefer dealing with children,” you laughed, glancing at Sophie who was focused on eating. “Corporate jobs just don’t sound appealing.”

“They aren’t,” he agreed before nodding to his daughter “It gives her the life that she deserves.”

You hummed in agreement, the sound running through him and causing a small smile on his face that you missed.

You were content with your job and utterly happy that you could do what you loved. Azriel was great company but a spot in you hurt for him when you noticed that he wasn’t used to having food already made for him. You rarely saw Elain and you wondered if she had taken longer hours with her job. The weekends were the only time that all three of you had any time off so you assumed that the mother made up for it then. 

It didn’t help though that you were bored during those two days. You were so used to getting up early and arriving at their home at six each morning. By the time that you had spent six months with them, you were still with Azriel and was present to put Sophie to bed yourself while her father caught up on extra work. You couldn’t lie that you loved it because the girl was the best child that you had ever had the pleasure of working with.

“Running late this morning?” she asked Azriel when he opened the door on a Friday morning.

“Just a bit,” he admitted, his voice still laced with sleep while Sophie was crying upstairs.

“Go ahead and get ready.”

You didn’t wait for a response before running towards the girl’s room.

Azriel had stayed up longer than he usually did the night before and he barely had time to throw on his business suit, the tie tied haphazardly around his neck. It had taken his mind a moment to realize why there was a knock on his door so early in the morning. Through his sleep filled brain, the sight of you and then your worried expression over his appearance sent his heart racing. Love was beginning to bloom within him for you but he was never sure if he should express it.

He did as you told him to do and by the time that he was fully ready, Elain was gone to her own job and you had Sophie at the table eating breakfast. It always amazed him how easily you were able to calm his daughter even though Elain and himself always had trouble doing so.

“Do you have time for me to finish making you a proper breakfast?” you asked, looking him up and down. 

“No.” He did the same to you, enjoying the sight that was you before him. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Is that everything that I need to accomplish today?”

You pointed to the list that Elain had made the night before. He nodded, feeling somewhat bad that you had more to do than usual today all while doing so with a now three year old in tow. You simply nodded with a smile and he had to force himself to leave his home. 

His stormy Friday workday felt as if it dragged by longer than usual. He usually watched the cameras in the home every so often just so he could see you but you were out running errands.. Not only was the normal hours of his work day long but so was the later hours that he had no choice but to stay late.

By the time that he rushed home, he found you asleep on the couch with Sophie curled up contently on your chest. It was a beautiful sight to behold and he didn’t have the heart to disturb either of you. His daughter loved you just as much as he was beginning to. He took a deep breath when his heart began to race when he gently pushed a piece of hair out of your face.

It was yet another form of the gentle touches that were exchanged between the both of you but a part of his heart hurt whenever you began to address him as a friend. He wanted so much more than that but knew that it would be inappropriate. It didn’t stop his longing but he didn’t have the opportunity to ponder long before the front door opened again.

Elain was home early for a change and the close of the door had you shooting up in a panic. Your eyes were wide as you held a still sleeping Sophie to your chest protectively. He didn’t think you had any means of protecting his daughter and yourself but it was admirable either way.

“I am so, so sor-”

“It’s alright.” He gave you a small smile even though your eyes darted between the both of them. “You have had a long day.”

“I still didn’t-”

“It really is okay,” Elain assured, picking Sophie up gently to take her to bed. “Go home and get some rest.”

You nodded and stood on slightly shaky legs before giving him an apologetic smile. He escorted you to the door as he always did and his heart picked up his pace whenever you held his eye contact. The way that you looked at him had him hopeful but he walked to the window to be sure that you got out of his line of sight safely.

He frowned when your headlights came on but instantly went out again and the sound of your car starting didn’t reach his ears. You sat in your car for five minutes in the hard downpour before you finally raced back to his front door where he was waiting for you.

“Car trouble?

“It won’t start,” you whined quietly. “I don’t know anything about cars.”

“Would you like a ride home?”

Surprise filled your face for a moment before you nodded shyly. He had to use all of his willpower to stop the laugh that wanted to leave him and used the excuse of retrieving his keys to doing so. By the time you were sitting in his passenger seat, you were both completely soaked and a pout was on your face.

“Does a little bit of rain bother you?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“Sugar melts in the rain,” you quipped and this time he wasn’t able to stop his laugh.

During the ride home, you told him about the busy day that you had while he listened intently. Mental images filled his mind with each story, the ones of you taking his daughter for ice cream being his favorite. Both of your arms were touching on the armrest and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around yours. It was a strong testament to his willpower to not do so.

When he pulled up to the home that was smaller than he had imagined, you made no move to instantly jump out. He knew that you enjoyed being around him but he also knew that you were oblivious to how he felt.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up,” you muttered while leaning up to look out of the windshield.

“According to the report, it’s supposed to be that way for the rest of the night.”

“Well at least I can immediately jump into the shower.”

He chuckled but when you looked at him, he realized that he had moved closer to you out of what felt like instinct. You didn’t break his gaze, even when his eyes darted to your mouth and then back to your eyes. His breath caught in his throat when there were mere inches between your mouths. Once you realized what was happening, you pulled back and jumped out of his vehicle without so much as a goodbye.

It was then that he realized that he was completely and utterly fucked.

Tag List:

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar

[zumek0]

draft 04; dostoevsky, f.

↪︎ fluff, fedya having a soft spot for his lover, reader is sick, gn reader, written with a fem reader in mind tho, references to irl dostoevsky’s life, surprise angst at the end, mentions of death.

↝ summary: when you become ill and are unable to fall asleep, he reads to you. the action feeling both familiar and distant to him.

You sneeze. Four times, actually.

You getting sick was highly inconvenient for Fyodor, as it prevented you from fulfilling your duties as a member of the Rats in the House of the Dead. He had to disregard plans and work his way around being down not only a member, but also the best assassin in the organization. Not to mention how it not only affected his organization, but also the Decay of Angels.

As annoyed as he was with the whole situation, seeing you in such a miserable state didn't bring him any kind of joy. On the contrary, he felt his heart hurt when he saw your teary eyes and heard your hoarse voice. Not that he would ever let you know that.

He stands up from his office set up and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He can't concentrate, so he decides that he might as well check up on you. That is, of course, because he needs you to get better so you can get back to work immediately, and not because he heard you cough a little too much and a little too hard.

He places the glass on the bedside table. He hears you thank him weakly. "Are you okay?" he asks uninterestedly but scans your face for any kind of discomfort. "Tired..." you sneeze after you answer.

"Then sleep." He hands you a tissue, which you barely muster enough energy to take.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

Fyodor sighs and then leaves the room. Your eyes start tearing up again, this time because you want him to stay with you. The whole image is comical: a killer as cold and ruthless as you, crying miserably because their boyfriend wouldn't spend time with them? Even if someone were to see it with their own eyes, it would be hard to believe.

Fyodor returns to the room with a book in hand. The cover torn and creased from the passage of time. It is Fyodor's favorite. Even if he rarely touched it, you knew he held a great fondness for that book in particular.

He lays down in the bed and looks at you expectantly. While your moves are slow, he waits patiently for you to make yourself comfortable against his chest. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked away slowly..."

His soft voice and regular heartbeat lulled you asleep.

A young dark haired man lies kneeling at the foot of his bed. His head is hung low and his fingers are intertwined. After he finishes his prayer with an "Amen", he gets up and heads for his mother's room.

He enters quietly and finds his father already there, sitting on a chair by his mother's side. Her head turns upon hearing the door opening and a warm yet tired smile makes home on her face.

"Fedyen'ka." Her voice, although strained and tired, sounds happy to see him. "Come here, my angel. Your father and I have something for you."

He is given a book.

On a late night while talking to his mother, he had entrusted her with the knowledge of his passion for literature. Talking about some of the books he had managed to get his hands on, weather by acquaintances of his lending him some, or by the old man in the shoe shop who let him stay a couple of hours after his work ended just so he could read some of the books that he kept in the backroom of his store. That night his mother promised him that for his sixteenth birthday, she would get him a book of his own.

She had never broken a promise, yet there were still two months until his birthday. Fyodor understood at that moment that his mother was probably going to die before that.

A simple "Thank you." is all he could muster.

That night he was unable to sleep. His father went out to tend to some business, so the house would've been completely silent if it weren't for the coughs of his mother.

He gets out of bed, grabbing the book from the wooden dresser next to the door to his room. When he enters his mother's room, the coughing stops.

"Oh, Fedechka, did I wake you up?"

"No, mother." He takes a glass of water from a table nearby and puts it up to her lips. She takes a few sips. "Are you unable to sleep?" She nods.

He leaves the glass back on the table and grabs his book. His mother's gaze follows him as he moves to sit on the chair where her husband usually sat beside her. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July..."

She falls asleep with a smile on her face as she listens to her son's voice.

Two days later, Maria Fedorovna Dostoevsky would pass away.

Fun fact: i spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to understand which Russian pet names and nicknames are most common, just to end up not using any because in my head they’re already speaking Russian.

If you recognize what he's reading, ur hot. Ahhh I'm so in love with fedya, but i’m not sure if i like how this turned out...

— han.

#땡땡! han’s works #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor headcanons #fyodor fluff #fyodor imagines #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoevsky x you #bsd imagines #bsd fyodor x reader #Fyodor dostoevsky angst #fyodor angst #bsd angst #fyodor x y/n

[hhonghu]

Morning glory

;; kabukimono x reader

cw: fluff, ooc!kabukimono ?, mutual pining, unestablished relationship

to make up for my long absence, here is some lovey dovey thrown at your way &lt;33 i'll get back writing on what i promised soon!

knock knock!

"mmh.." kabukimono groans, rolling on to his side and pulling the blanket closer to him and burrowing his face into it. just 5 more minutes, he thought. there's nothing wrong with sleeping just a bit more. just a little more.

he and niwa spent nearly almost the entire night awake, trying to perfect the technique that kabukimono studied for forging and begged niwa to stay up with him until he got it right. after several tries and hours passed, kabukimono was finally satisfied all the while niwa was nearly about to pass out of exhaustion, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that it's late and that they should head to bed.

knock knock!

"come on, sleepyhead! wake up! the sun has risen!" kabukimono groans again, mumbling out a little "nooo..". niwa heard the little complaint and tried not to laugh. it was technically the early hours of the morning, the sun having yet to rise much. "that's what you get for staying up late. come on, get up!" second pass and still no answer. niwa sighs, about to walk away before an idea pops in.

"alright, fine. sleep in for today. you deserve it for working hard last night." niwa walks away slowly as possible, making sure his voice is still heard. "too bad you'll miss [name]. they might wonder why you didn't come by this morning and feed them."

kabukimono bolts up, eyes wide awake and sleep gone from his body. [name]! how could he forget! how could he let sleep take him over like that?

he shuffles out of his bed and opening his door, scurrying down the hallway and down the stairs, passing by niwa who was letting out a laugh. "who knew that [name] was the prayer i needed to get you to wake up?" kabukimono reached the bottom and turned his head around, sticking his tongue out a little at him. "don't get ideas, niwa."

he freshens himself up and heads to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves above his elbows. he still had time to make you a dish, he can't miss it. he begins to work his way in the kitchen, taking out ingredients to make katsu sandwiches for you and rice omelette for niwa and starting to cook, making sure that everything is right.

after everything is done and cooked, he plates the rice omelette and calls out for niwa to come and eat while he puts the sandwiches neatly inside a lunchbox, wrapping it around with a pretty purple silk cloth. niwa comes in the kitchen, humming seeing the food on the table. kabukimono fixes his clothes, dusting off crumbs and whatnot on him. he grabs the lunchbox, bidding goodbye to niwa. "alright! be safe and tell [name] to come by and pick up some iron when they have the time!"

kabukimono waves and heads out the door, walking away from the shop and making his way to you.

what a pretty sun.

you gaze at the rising sun, slowly peeking up from the horizon. you lean your head back further into the tree, letting out a sigh of content. you feel gentle breezes pass by you, brushing through your hair. you close your eyes, letting this calm moment take you in.

while you relax, you don't notice kabukimono approaching you. his eyes lands on your relaxed face and his heart softens, his pace slowing until he takes a complete stop, just staring at you, the soft glow of the rising sun kissing your skin.

you suddenly open your eyes and slightly turn your head around, smiling as you spot him. "hm? well if it isn't my favorite boy. what kept you from me?" you tease. kabukimono's face flushes, his grip on the lunch box tightens. what kept you from me? he felt his heart start to beat a little faster, the way you just said it makes him feel so much.

"i, uhm, almost slept in.." he bites his lip, "i stayed up late with niwa last night to practice some techniques and ended up burning the midnight oil.." you let out a little chuckle, "did you now? aren't you such a hardworking student. come, sit. don't just stand there, the grass beside me feels empty without you." you pat the empty spot next to you.

kabukimono scrambles and takes a seat next to you, still holding the lunchbox. "here.. uh, i made you something." he hands you the lunchbox, his hands shaking a little. you smile and take it from him, making him jolt a little as your fingers touches his. "you know, i'm still surprised you wake up this early to catch me here." you unwrap the lunchbox, "though i don't mind, your cooking is what makes me look forward being here under this tree. it makes me feel as if it's made just for me."

kabukimono tries not to squirm, heat creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. your mouth, your words, it's making his stomach do flips. it will always be for you, no one else. "haha, well, it's a nice way to start the day, no?" you nod as you open the lunchbox and your mouth waters as you look at the meal. "are these katsu sandwiches?" kabukimono nods, smiling as you take one out and take a little sniff, he could almost see glitters in your eyes. "this smells absolutely divine. thank you for the meal." you take a bite, letting out a content moan as you chew. it was delicious.

kabukimono watches as you eat happily, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. his eyes traces you; from your lashes to your hands, he watches in admiration as you just eat. you glance at him, seeing him staring deeply back at you. you take a sandwich and pull it in half, twisting your upper body to face him and lifting the piece to his mouth with your hand.

"here, open up." kabukimono's eyes widen, what did you mean? "taste what you cooked, it's delicious." he shook his head, "no, no, no! that's just for you. i couldn't possibly—" he pauses, your free hand cupping his cheek and your thumb touching the bottom of his lip. his breath hitches.

"now, now. just give it a try." he didn't know what got into him, he really doesn't. he slightly opens his mouth and you smile, "good boy." you put the piece in his mouth and let go, letting him chew. he wasn't paying attention to the flavor, in fact he doesn't even know what he's tasting. his focus was on you and the way you praised him, he felt his heart jump.

he swallows, finally finished eating what you gave. "how was it? good, right?" kabukimono nods, "you should be a chef instead of a forger. you could go places with these." you finish your sandwiches, closing the lunchbox and wrapping back the silk cloth around it.

"thank you for the meal, kabukimono. it was delicious." you hand back the box to him and he takes, letting it rest on his lap. "of course, i'm glad you liked it." comfortable silence fills in the air, both of you leaning back on the tree and watching the sun finally rise, basking you both in it's light.

you take a glance at kabukimono, his eyes was closed. you watched as the sun touches his cheeks, making him glow beautifully in the morning sun. you looked away and back to the horizon, letting out a small sigh and close your eyes.

what a pretty sun.

#ems.writes #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #kabukimono x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader

[yoongsisbae]

King of Corruption | MYG

Sequel to Christmas Mass. Yoongi x reader Demon AU. Dark smut.

The organ player takes his time with you, holding you and caressing your body while you sleep, until you can’t discern your dreams from your reality. A king and a sleeping beauty, his name leaves your lips like a prayer, prostated at his feet in blind reverence…the perfect position for him to corrupt and defile you. 

I promised readers a Yoongi version if Christmas Mass hit 1,000 notes, and you did it! Round of applause for you! This story is all your fault :D. Please please please heed the warnings, this is dreadfully filthy u.u.

Trigger warnings: 18+ dark themes, horror, demons, religion, smut, boss x employee, wanna experience the trauma of having an office job? this fic is for you!, power imbalance, Yoongi is literally the worst boss ever lol, yoongi is unhinged (remember that you wanted this sequel :’)) sloth is one of the hardest sins to really articulate - I wanted it to be a bit more than just sleepy/lazy, sleeping beauty syndrome, rough sex, corruption kink, pain kink, sadism, degradation, name calling, possession, reader manipulation, mental torture/mind break, dubcon, dark ending

Word Count: 8.9k

---

It’s quiet.

Apart from the clicking, dozens of busy hands typing away, needing to meet quarterly deadlines by the end of the month, less than a week away. 

What day is it? Tuesday? Thursday? 

So quiet.

Apart from papers shuffling back and forth and dress shoes thudding on thin office carpet; employees chasing down their supervisors, the gurgling of the water cooler dispensing another cold metallic tasting cup of water.

Click click click.

It’s almost closing time. Yet, you know you’ll be here at least two more hours along with everyone else. Your fingers are cramping, your legs shake up and down as you sit idle. You’re hungry and tired and so sick of these long office hours.

Tap tap tap.

Your office cell buzzes, a message popping up: ‘Come to my office.’

You press your lips together, annoyed.

Tap tap-

Your fingers hover over your keyboard as you finish looking over your current spreadsheet, double checking that the totals match the expense reports on your desk.

Click click click.

Tap tap tap.

Buzz. ‘Now.’ 

You sigh quietly, standing up. 

Walking past rows of cubicles, you trek towards your manager’s private office, knocking softly before entering.

“Sir?”

He calls you closer with a lazy gesture, crossing his arms. He stares at you in silence for far too long, making you fidget uncomfortably on the spot. Lowering your head down you look at the objects on his desk, unable to meet his eyes.

A Newton’s cradle, at a standstill.

An ornate letter opener, shaped like a small needle dagger.

Countless papers, so scattered the desk wood is hardly seen.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, Sir?” You look up obediently.

Yoongi leans back in his office chair, eyes looking through you.

“I need these finished before you leave today.” He gestures down at the stack of reports at the corner of his desk.

Your eyes go wide, there’s at least three more hours of work piled up high. “B-But Sir-”

“Our quarterly deadline is in less than-”

“-a week,” you finish for him, dejected. “These have to be done today?” you ask, “Can’t I, um, come in early in the morning instead-”

Yoongi clears his throat and shakes his head, cracking his pointer finger with his thumb, turning the silver ring around the digit out of habit. “I needed those reports done yesterday.”

“Oh…”

You want to scream.

“...okay.”

“Okay.” He repeats impatiently. “Work on these first, I can’t finish what I have to do until I get those reports back.”

You exhale, reluctantly nodding and reaching for the extra work.

Yoongi slams his pen down, making you jump. “As soon as possible, y/n, okay? Got it?”

You nod quickly, turning on your heel, desperate to hide away from his stern gaze. Yoongi’s presence is intimidating, his curtness makes you feel like a child, dumb and incompetent. ‘Just get it done,’ you think, then you can go home, far away from this hell.

Yoongi watches your retreating figure, sighing, “How tiring…” he mumbles, a sly grin hiding behind his knuckles.

---

Your eyes sting, the blue electronic screen glow under half-dimmed office lights could seem sinister if you weren’t so focused, tiredly saving updated files to the company’s servers. Somehow you are always the last one left at your desk, a “model employee,” by administrative standards of course.

You rub your eyes. Eat, you need to eat, before you pass out.

‘Saving: 78%’ You look around, forgetting there was nobody left around for you to disturb. You look through your purse for some change to buy a snack bar from the company’s vending machine, anything to eat just so you can make it home in one piece.

Under closing lights the bright shine inside the vending machine makes the cheap snacks inside look incredibly appetizing, or perhaps it was because you skipped lunch today...

You rest your head on the glass of the vending machine, watching the agonizingly slow twirl of springs as your snack bar...gets stuck.

No. Not now!

Closing your eyes, you debate on whether to start screaming or crying.

‘Come on!’

Of course only you could be this unlucky. You try to quietly hit your fist on the glass, harder again when nothing moves. 

‘FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT,’ you think, cursing your life.

You shift your weight between legs, thinking, itching to kick the damn thing. No, you shouldn’t make a scene. Biting your tongue, you lean your body against the side of the vending machine, using your shoulder to nudge the large appliance.

‘FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU-’

Someone clears their throat.

You look up and stare into a pair of intense eyes, dark irises silently judging you.

It’s one of the rare times you’ve seen your boss without his coat jacket on, Yoongi’s unkept appearance surprising you. His tie is pulled down, top two buttons unfastened, the gel in the front strands of his hair has lost its hold, causing his bangs to frame his sharp cheekbones. His cheeks are flushed, a sign he has been doing more than just sitting at his desk all day, it makes you wonder what or who...

Yoongi swipes his credit card and hits the same two numbers you had chosen.

He bends down slowly, pulling two bars from the machine. Your lip trembles as you build up enough courage to speak. ‘That’s my bar.’

Just ask for it.

Just say it.

Say something!

-

“That’s mine,” you summon the courage to speak up.

Yoongi laughs softly. “Yours?” he hums.

He stares at you, and you realize he has no intention of giving you what you want.

You immediately look down out of habit. You would have let it go, scurried away before Yoongi really got annoyed at you, but you only brought enough change for one bar. “Y-Yes.”

“No.”

“It is! I paid for it, it got stuck, the stupid machine-” you trail off, realizing you were speaking your thoughts aloud.

“Nothing here is yours, y/n,” he tuts. His tone catches you off guard, and when you look up his expression is even more surprising. Yoongi is leaning against the machine, smiling at you.

A smile is usually friendly, welcoming.

Not like this.

His crescent eyes don’t twinkle, they gleam with a malice that makes your body stiffen.

He chuckles, staring at your gaping mouth. “This belongs to me. This whole company is mine,” he smiles. “And do you know what else is mine?”

“Huh?” you can only ask dumbly, frozen by his sudden icy demeanor.

You yelp when he grabs the back of your neck so swiftly you trip over yourself trying to pull free.

Yoongi forces you back against the cold vending machine glass.

He whispers his next words so softly in your ear, you wouldn't have believed he was capable of such tenderness in the midst of such aggression. “You belong to me.”

He runs his thumb harshly over your bottom lip smearing your lipstick down your chin, gripping your face in his hands so tightly it stings. You gasp out his name in surprise, jolting when he presses his knee between your legs. “You’re mine,” he whispers.

-

Your boss holds out one of the small snack bars in your direction. “Y/n?”

You shake out of your stupor, looking at Yoongi as he stares back at you blankly. “Y-Yes Sir?” you ask, realizing he was offering you the extra bar.

He stood three paces away from you, not close at all, but your body felt jittery thinking of his skin against yours, how it would feel if he pushed you against the vending machine and had his way with you.

Your thoughts horrify you. It had felt so real, you were still lingering in your own delusions. Your boss...he’s your boss. Why would you think such horrible things about your boss?!

You grab the bar away from him so quickly he stares down at his open palm.

You keep your head bowed, silencing away those horribly intrusive thoughts burning through your body like a forgotten muscle memory. Yoongi steps closer to you, eyes peering down at the bar held tightly to your chest. “I-I-”

“Y/n, go home.”

---

You put on the television.

It only takes a few minutes before your attention is on your phone instead, checking the latest trends. You scroll quickly, unfocused, so you didn’t have to think of the horribly embarrassing moments you had today.

If your thoughts become too loud, like tonight, you drown them out with music, adding another layer of noise inside your quiet home.

This has become routine.

You spend the night scrolling through images of popular celebrities, cute half naked men and women with soft features and sweet smiles so you wouldn’t think about him...

Your boss.

Min Yoongi.

Yoongi’s intimidating appearance, so unlike the warm and friendly celebrities displayed on your screens. Yoongi’s sharp angry eyes, you wonder what makes him happy. Yoongi’s deep drawling voice, that voice, what would it sound like in your ear? Oh, the way Yoongi runs his tongue over his lips when he concentrates...

You own tongue licks across your teeth thinking about it.

Your boss had a notorious reputation, there’s always been office gossip between chatty women who giggle amongst themselves when he walks by. Stories to explain why his assistants never stay for too long, and rumors of a terrible terrible temper. You’ve never seen it for yourself, but god help you, you can’t help but imagine...

Something must be under that listless facade he always exhibits for him to be so successful...

A fierceness...

You shake your head, sighing. Something is wrong with you, you think, ashamed at yourself. Stop y/n. You’re not brave enough to play with fire like that. You’re his subordinate and you’re fairly certain he finds you annoying, like a pest, and you’re definitely certain he is out of your league.

No, Mr. Min seems like the type who doesn’t bother with relationships anyways, the type to scoff at romantic gestures, probably prefers high class escorts and busy women who would leave him alone to his own devices. Your boss is not a nice man.

But there’s just something about him...that hooks you, in the lungs, in the chest, in the pit of your stomach. You’ve been wholly ensnared by him.

You pull your legs up, burying your face in your knees, hiding away. A silly gesture, you were all alone in your home after all.

You turn up the volume on your television and laughter fills your house. Rehearsed, giddy, raucous laughter. A show you’ve probably already watched before. You can barely crack a smile in response.

You eat a cold meal of leftovers, too lazy to cook for yourself, too hungry to even wait the time it takes until it heats up.

You move from the couch to the bed, and fall asleep quickly, exhausted.

---

You gasp for air, waking up.

Where had you been? Were you drowning? You catch your breath. No. Then why are you wet? Is that sweat?

It’s too dark to see. You try to move, but something heavy holds you down.

“What’s going on?” you murmur. 

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

“Go back to sleep,” a deep drawl mumbles.

You know that voice.

Who is it? His name is on the tip of your tongue.

Your limbs feel so heavy, so tired. It can’t be morning yet, it’s too dark for that.

You still have time to sleep more, go back to dreaming, enjoying that pleasant feeling again, so good you can still feel it creeping over your limbs...

...up your body...

...inside you...

It’s a nice feeling, it was a nice dream. It’s where you want to be, where you want to stay. Just until morning, just until you have to go back to reality, back to work, where everything hurts and is exhausting and unpleasant, a deadline on top of a deadline, a bunch of dead ends, finish lines with no rewards.

You rather stay in bed and sleep.

That dream, what was it about? You try to remember, get it back, so you can go back, anywhere but here.

You groan, chest heavy. Just a little bit more time is all you need. Let the sun stay away for a little longer. Let the shadows hide you away. Please.

That dream, you’re almost there, it’s coming back to you like a sweet lovely serenade, sung by lips pressed against your skin.

A rhythm begins inside you that makes your body sink deeper, two fingers pulling out the song inside you, making you ache to hear more.

A deep sigh against your thigh followed by a chuckle makes you whine in tune. You think it almost feels too good to be just in your imagination, right before you fall deeper.

---

“Am I boring you?”

A sharp kick to the back of your chair by your coworker jolts you. “S-Sir? N-No, no– No, Sir.” 

Shit, now everyone in the meeting room has their eyes on you. Your boss continues to chastise you. You shrink inward, gripping the ends of your skirt hard enough to wrinkle. 

Yoongi asks your thoughts on the presentation so far, already knowing you don’t have an answer. You stutter out the notes you’ve written down, riffling through the papers in front of you and he corrects you, flustering you even more.

You mumble out an apology. You hate being the center of attention, you wish to disappear. Taking your pen and piercing it into the soft part of your throat would be less painful than the embarrassment you’re feeling and when you hear giggles on your left part of you contemplates on actually doing it and ending it all!

God, will this reflect poorly on your performance review?!

You try not to shake as you scribble down what he’s saying, ignoring his eyes fixated right on you. ‘Why me?’ you write in the corner of your notebook, holding off tears of frustration.

Why does Mr. Min always seem to be picking on you?

-

“Everyone is dismissed,” Yoongi says after the meeting concludes. He calls out to you before you can leave, asking you to see him in his office.

You wince. Of course, you never get a break from working.

You sit on the couch by his desk, waiting. He’s making you wait on him. When you should be eating lunch with everyone else. You swallow down your growing resentment instead.

It’s bitter.

Your leg shakes in boredom, your foot tapping on Yoongi’s office carpet. Time just ticks on by, slower and slower until you can’t take it.

You feel hungry and annoyed and worst of all, you feel deep restlessness, uneasiness working up your limbs and into the pit of your stomach until you wish to scream, run, anything.

How much can you tolerate before you explode? Act out? That’s what Yoongi seems to want to find out.

Your boss walks in, shutting the door to his office behind him.

Instead of sitting at his desk, he sits next to you on his couch, limbs sprawled out as he rests.

“Why did you need– Was there something you needed to discuss with me, Sir?” you ask, trying not to sound impatient.

“Y/n…” The way he drags out your name, deepening his voice, has you holding your breath, waiting for his next words. He runs his hands through his hair, fixing the strands away from his eyes.

“How long have you worked for me?” Yoongi asks, testing you.

“I…” you pause. How long has it been? It must be years now, right? This is your first job, you can’t remember having any other. “A very long time,” you laugh awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t ask you anymore about it. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Yoongi glances at you, fingers tapping on his knee as he stretches his legs. He adjusts his hips, moving closer towards you. “No, well, I think it’s time for a promotion, don’t you?”

“Oh?” You say, surprised. You would have bet Mr. Min would have fired you before ever promoting you.

“From now on you’ll be working directly under me. This department is growing, and I need an assistance manager. You’re a hard worker, your performance accuracy are always high, and I think you’ll be a perfect fit.”

You stay quiet, only nodding in acknowledgement. The idea of seeing more of him was burdensome. But you can’t help but fixate on his compliments, Yoongi called you ‘perfect.’

“How does that sound?”

“Sounds...great.”

He crosses his arms, “Yeah?”

“Yes...”

He glances in your direction frowning, “Really? Because you look like I just told you someone died-”

“No, sir!” you recoil, “I’m sorry Sir, I’m just surprised! I thought you were mad at me,” you say softly, looking down at your knees pressed tightly together.

He reaches out to you, turning your chin to face him. “Y/n, tell me, do you like your job?”

-

You can’t exactly be honest and tell your boss how much you…

…hate it here.

“Yes, I’m very grateful for the opportunity-”

Yoongi frowns again, his touch becoming rougher. “You can tell me the truth, y/n.”

“Oh...I-l really like my job.”

He laughs.

And then, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back over the couch cushion. It’s quick and unexpected and...just like that time before...

What’s going on?!

“Do you?” he asks, a smug smile on his face. “You like your job?” he laughs.

“Y-Yes!” you defend yourself, pulling desperately at his arm. If you told him the truth, he would fire you. Then what would you do? How will you pay your bills? If you fought back against him, who would believe you? This goddamn job was all you had.

“Oh,” He nods back, voice pitched higher and seeming to mock your own voice. “You like this?” he laughs, dragging your body down, hovering over you. 

This is Yoongi? His demeanor shifted so quickly you can barely recognize him as the same man. Your boss was reserved, almost apathetic to things. The man looking down at you seemed unhinged, animated, barely contained.

You didn’t know what this man was capable of. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “What do y-you want me to say?” you whimper, words barely audible.

“Still that quiet little lamb?” He holds you down so tightly your scalp burns and his other hand snakes around your throat threateningly, bending over you until your foreheads touch. “Spineless, dumb girl, this is the best you could want? Is this what you gave up everything for?” he asks, shaking your body.

You don’t understand what he’s saying or why he’s doing this, but something inside you feels ashamed at his words, like you’ve done something horribly wrong and you don’t even realize it, like a child being yelled at for going to a place they shouldn’t without an adult. You shouldn’t be here...

You want to leave!

You cry out, fighting against him. You try to scream, sound muffled by the pressure of his fingers around your neck.

Yoongi sits his full weight on top of you, his designer suit pulling at the itchy fabric of your cheap bargain clothes.

“You so desperately want to feel something, it’s all you can think about, all you can dream about. If you want to feel, I can make you feel. I can make you hurt. And I can make it feel so good. If I took away that numbness inside you, fill you up with my cock instead, wouldn’t that be nice?”

His words don’t make sense. He sounds like an echo of your thoughts being thrown back at you, like a twisted mirror showing your reflection. How could he know? 

You stop struggling, surrendering. Yoongi is too strong, too heavy, too much for you. His eyes bore into you, deep dark irises with endless depth. You can’t look away and you start to cry.

This must be what drowning feels like, pain you’re forced to confront, a miserable knowing that you steadily lower into. It’s Yoongi who reaches for you, and it didn’t matter that he was pulling you down deeper, you cling to him for salvation.

-

“Do you like your job? Y/n?”

You gasp in air, looking at Yoongi’s passive face. Your hands immediately massage your itchy throat as you look around his office, catching your breath. 

What the hell.

You feel like you’re losing your mind, grasping at something slipping between your fingers, something you can’t explain.

What the hell was that?

It had felt so real, so palpable, so shocking, like electricity through all your tired joints.

Yoongi clears his throat, tilting his head at you as you try to regain your composure.

“D-Do I like my job? I…yes, it’s fine. I’m fine,” you breathe out. You continue to look around the room and where Yoongi sits next to you. What was that?! Did you really imagine it all? 

“Really?” He crosses his arms.

You laugh nervously. “Are you supposed to like your job? Don’t they say you shouldn’t turn what you love into work, you’ll grow to hate it or something like that, I think,” you trail off, unconfident you made any sense to him. “But this is a really good position! Thank you for the, um, promotion.”

“I see...” he says. “You know, this place is not my first choice, but I can appreciate this kind of job, it molds a certain kind of person. Someone disciplined, useful. Humans are natural born workers, did you know that? The very first man and woman had jobs. When God asked Adam and Eve to tend to his Garden. Humankind was created to work, to follow.”

This conversation is so odd. “Yes...”

“So do you think you can do that for me?” he asks, clasping his hands together.

“What, Sir?”

“Follow me.”

“I...”

“You look a bit sick,” he says, touching your forehead, causing you to flinch away.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble, looking around his office again, worried you weren’t hearing things correctly, worried you were sick in another way, maybe you should talk to someone, go to HR. “I think I, uh, maybe need to take a sick day tomorrow.”

Yoongi frowns. “Take a half day, go home for the rest of today and get better, I need you back here tomorrow,” he commands.

“Okay,” you say shakily. “Yes, Sir.”

---

“Where am I?”

It’s a familiar room you’ve only visited in your dreams. A room with no doors. A realm you know you don’t belong in, but can’t help but come back to again and again. You should be used to the fear creeping over you, but you can’t remember why.

“Stay away.” Your words echo, come out as a weak whisper. “This is a dream, just a dream,” you mutter to yourself, trying to stand, but unable to.

Yoongi walks closer to you, ignoring your pleas.

You boss? His clothes change from the familiar sleek blue suit you remembered him in into black, brown hair to stark silver, deep dark eyes becoming even darker, turning into obsidian orbs. 

You shut your eyes tightly. Your limbs feel heavy and slow, unable to move at the speed you wanted, unable to get out, unable to leave. Your body feels fractured from your mind, the physics of your dream always working against you. 

“Relax,” His deep voice sends goosebumps over your skin, the pads of his fingers dig into your sole, relaxing the muscles. You open your eyes and see Yoongi back to normal again, strong hands cradling your foot. His touch is so relaxing and pleasurable, and for a moment you forget why you’re so scared, the tension releasing from your stressed body with every deep stroke across your sole and down your calf.

“Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.” You repeat the words like a mantra when he lets your foot drop, the familiar weight of his body back again.

“Would you like to go back already? We just started.” His skillful hands presses into your skin, up your thigh, closer and closer, kneading the muscle in tantalizing circles, replacing the tension in your body with desire. “Let go and enjoy it, y/n.”

But you can’t, you need to wake up. You shouldn’t escape into your fantasies and shut out the real world every time you become stressed. How many nights has it been? Your twisted day dreams have turned into full fledged nightmares, and now you can’t escape him, this reoccurring torturous cycle every time you close your eyes and think about Yoongi.

‘Wake up, y/n.’ Get out of your head, get out of your house! You can’t keep living like this! 

But you know, you’ll be here again, it just feels too good to stop. You don’t want to do anything but sleep and escape. It’s too easy.

And it’s too hard to resist him.

“Yoongi, fuck me. Please.”

Yoongi tuts, hand caressing down your throat and holding you there under him before he finally decides to stand.

“This time, work for it.”

He moves away and it’s cold loneliness without him on top of you, all you want to do is have him there again.

You feel the sudden energy return back to you at his command now that he wasn’t tangled over you. Your growing desire to have him back propels you.

You move yourself in front of him, getting on your knees. Assuming this is what he meant, you begin to unbuckle his belt.

He watches you, looking down at you dutifully fulfilling his orders. The perfect worker you are. Yoongi could get used to this kind of enthusiasm, even if he prefers you docile and completely pliable to his whims.

As you slowly pull out his length from his pants, you look up to make sure he is pleased. You let your lips stretch around him, taking him in your mouth as far as your throat allows.

“Good girl,” he sighs, “So sweet.”

He holds the back of your head, leading you to take him fully until you choke on his cock. Then he steps back, dragging your body forward by the hair, that way he keeps you connected to him, adjoined to him in the most sinful way.

You clumsily crawl forward, following his lead, knees hitting hard floor, a pain that reminds you just how much power he has over you.

Yoongi takes a seat, spreading his legs to make a place for you to kneel between them. He sighs in pleasure. In your dreams, you boss always seems much more at peace, putting pleasure first, and everything else melts away. Your worries, your responsibilities, your duty is only to him, it makes him happy.

You move your mouth, sucking him down over and over again until your jaw aches, until sweat drips down your forehead and your wrists and knees hurt and you’re messy and dripping for him. He helps guide you as you tire, hands still tangled in your hair.

He’s close, you can tell by the swell of his cock, the loud groans that escape his lips.

You taste his release, salty and thick. Your own is still so far away, you whimper around his still hard cock. Yoongi feels your quiver against him, and he gives you an unexpected mercy. He releases his hold on you, leaning back. “Get up and ride me now.”

You nod quickly, standing up. Yoongi lets you straddle him, awe over his muscular body. You don’t waste any time dropping down on his cock.

He watches you rut your hips side to side, up and down on his hard length, your hips moving fluidly against his own, chasing your pleasure. You reach for his hands and he lets you place his large palms over your breasts, watching as you mewl when he kneads and pulls on them. You place a hand across your collar bone and he takes the invitation to rest it higher, fingers squeezing around your throat, taking your air for his.

Oh, you’re good at this. And all Yoongi has to do is sit back and relax, let you take him, his own cocksleeve. A perfect disciple, willing to learn exactly what pleases him.

You close your eyes and listen to his low whisper, moans of encouragement. “You’re so close, don’t give up on me now, fuck yourself on my cock. That’s my girl. Keep going, come for your master.”

You tremble and whimper out his name like a prayer you’ve wished for over and over.

---

You wake up abruptly, falling off your couch, still in your work clothes from the day before.

You can’t believe you slept the whole day away. Maybe you really were sick. Your muscles ache, your head is spinning and you can’t stop thinking...

...about what it would really feel like...

...to have Yoongi’s hands hold down your body.

You clutch your head. ‘It wasn’t real.’

Your alarm hasn’t gone off, the sun is only just rising, you still have time to shower and get ready for work, but all you want to do is take away the frustratingly clawing ache inside of you, a desperate need you’re too embarrassed to acknowledge.

So you run a cold shower before breakfast instead.

You heave out a long drawn out sigh, letting the cool water hit your back, washing away your shamefulness.

You rest your head on cold tile. ‘Don’t think about him.’

No, don’t think about his rough hands on your delicate neck, his crotch pressed over your stomach, or the feeling of his cock getting harder against you.

Fuck, you want to fuck him.

You try to calm your breathing, tilting your head into the water. What are you doing? Your boss wouldn’t do that! He…

You touch your bottom lip…He could, if he wanted to.

Did you want him to?

The answer frightens you. No no, your morbid curiosity was nothing more than just that. You just wanted to feel fire, but you didn’t want to get burned.

So, like always, you resign yourself to this small depraved little fantasy. Behind shower curtains, hiding in the low light of your bath.

You trail your fingers down between your legs, working yourself up before you could think of talking yourself out of it.

It wasn’t really about him right now anyways. You just needed to release. You were so wound up and desperate, right?

You shudder a yes, pressing your fingers deeper into your sex.

You flinch as your back bumps into warmth. ‘This is not real.’

Smooth, wet skin, pressing back against you, fingers gripping your wrist so you don’t stop.

You feel yourself unraveling as lips run along your shoulder, the same lips you couldn’t stop thinking about. You close your eyes, whimpering, scared to look behind you and either confirm your delusions or become utterly lost in them. 

You pull your fingers out, circling your clit, thinking of how good it feels to have Yoongi pressed against your back, his cock up between your legs.

The way he would be so merciless when he pushes his cock inside you, pulling your leg up higher to angle himself deeper.

You moan, feeling so full it makes your head spin.

The way his fingers would explore your body, gripping you like he owns you, pinching your nipples, pulling at your hips, pressing down on your tongue.

This fantasy feels so real, all that’s missing is…

“Can’t help yourself, greedy slut, can you? You ever wonder why that is, y/n?”

You cry out, focusing on the piercing drag of his cock against your walls. “Aw does it hurt? I told you, I would hurt you.”

He slams into you over again, water splashing with every impact against your ass. You struggle to stay standing, clinging to tile. “You’ll take it, though, like a good obedient whore.”

He pulls out, turning you around.

It shocks you how real this fantasy of yours looks. It’s dangerous how effective your thoughts work to rile you up, he’s dangerous.

“Lusting after monsters, you haven’t changed one bit, y/n.”

“I want to stop it,” you admit, shaking against him out of fear and pleasure. “I don’t know how,” you whimper, knowing you can only ever really have him like this, a twisted version of your boss you made up for yourself. It’s shameful and sickening.

“Because you’re mine. Look at you,” he tuts, “Your soul weeps for me,” he presses his fingers inside your dripping cunt, “But I want more than that, you understand?”

“What?” you stutter out.

He kisses you roughly, swallowing your whines. You close your eyes, lost to pleasure as his tongue rolls over your neck, sucking. You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, succumbing to your delusion.

“Devotion. Your sweet devotion, give me your that, and you won’t need to do anything else ever again.”

---

Tap tap tap.

Click Click Click.

What?

What?

Wait. Wait.

You stand up suddenly, startling those working around you. You look around, scanning the familiar setting over and over again.

Afraid you’ll start a scene you turn your heel and walk quickly to the bathroom.

Only when you’re alone and have caught your breath do you go to the mirror and stare at your reflection.

Your hair is still damp, the collar of your work shirt is wet, fading water droplets across your jacket and skirt.

And your panties feel wet, sticking to your core.

Shit, you think, noticing your smudged makeup. How long have you looked like this? You grab paper towels quickly, rubbing away the lipstick smudged under your lip, trying to gather your thoughts together.

What was happening to you? Why can’t you remember how you got here?

You massage your temples, feeling dizzy. There has to be an explanation, you just have to look for it.

But...

...unfortunately, right now you have work to do.

-

You sit at your desk, chewing on crackers, contemplating the idea that you might be going completely insane.

Your cell buzzes. ‘Sixth floor meeting room. Now.’

It’s your boss of course. You can’t face him right now. You turn off your cell, nibbling on your nails in your anxiousness.

This isn’t normal, something is very wrong with you. You end up back in the bathroom, trying to retrace your steps, figuring out the minutes that were escaping you. You turn on the faucet, wetting a towel, running the wet paper across your forehead to calm yourself.

You catch your reflection again, except this time, there are two.

Another person, behind you, staring back.

An image of a devil.

A beautiful devil.

Smiling wickedly behind you, an image of a man so haunting you forget how to breathe.

You scream.

Before you can turn around and confront your worst nightmares the bathroom door bursts open, familiar hands wrapping around your wrists and pulling you away.

Yoongi is pissed.

You can tell as he drags you along, not stopping until you are back in his office.

His nails dig into your elbow, pulling you possessively closer to him. “Missing him?!”

You shake your head frantically. Miss who? Not...

Whoever that was...no, you didn’t want to think about it anymore!

You whimper, feeling weak and dizzy.

“Oh poor little y/n,” Yoongi tuts, “you just need some more rest.”

---

“What do you think you’re doing, my friend?” Jimin asks. “You’re not usually this persistent.”

Yoongi yawns, undoing his tie. “I want her longer.”

Jimin laughs, so loud it would have surely woken you up if it weren’t for Yoongi’s effect on your body. “Fine.”

He watches your brow furrow, “I do enjoy watching the fight in her return,” Jimin laughs.

For all the passion Jimin possessed, Jimin was a heartless demon.

Jimin had thoroughly broken you, taken from you until you had nothing left to give and became a boredom to him. 

So it was Yoongi’s turn. 

“This is a nice little world,” Jimin looks around, flicking the metal name plate in the center of Yoongi’s desk.

“We’re currently not hiring.”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Jimin whines.

“You can have her back when I’m done.”

Jimin bites his lip in thought. “You’re not lying to me, are you, dear friend?” he asks. “You remember she called out to me first. I can, hmmm, satisfy her the best.”

Jimin’s fingers trail the curves of your body, and even in your slumber your body responds to his touch, writhing in the other demon’s lap. Yoongi holds you loosely, caressing your cheek as you whine softly. Jimin moans at the sight.

Yoongi laughs, “Concerned for her satisfaction, are you?”

Jimin holds up his palms in mock defeat, smirking. “Okay. Then, let me watch.”

---

A soft touch, wet and warm.

You’re too tired to open your eyes, not yet fully awake. Your limbs laid sprawled out, sinking into the thick covers under you, body too sluggish to move. You don’t want to wake up just yet, it feels too good. It feels real good.

You breathe in, turning your head into your pillow, leaning into the softness against your cheek, the warmth rolling over your stomach, the weight on your pelvis. It makes you gasp softly.

Yoongi smiles against your skin, mouth opening to taste you again.

Your body rocks against the soft sheets. You wish to moan, but you can’t. You wish to press your sex closer to the delicious sensation between your legs, but you can’t. If only you could wrap your legs around it, beg for more. But you can only lie sedated in your pleasure, getting wetter and wetter.

---

You wake up restless in your bed, needing to pee. Stumbling through your pitch black room, you search for the light switch, your drowsiness slipping quickly away and being replaced by an anxiousness when you can’t find it.

The darkness frightens you. But even scarier, what could be hiding, terrifies you.

Click.

You decide to keep the lights on when you return. 

You lie in bed thinking about him. Min Yoongi, when did he become such an obsession for you?

Maybe you need to find yourself a boyfriend, try dating, you stay home too much. You sigh, realizing how you have spent every other night in bed...fantasizing...instead. You’ve always been alone, but you’re starting to notice the loneliness, and it’s becoming suffocating. You need to go out, appreciate the couple hours of free time in the evening you had after working all day and afternoon. You’re coming to a realization your freedom shouldn't feel so...confining. The four walls of your room feel so close now. When did you become so lazy, so closed off and boring?

The sad realization leaves you even more unwilling to take the risk. Honestly, you should be grateful you have a roof over your head and a meal in your stomach and the luxury of being able to relax at home.

What about your dreams, ambitions?

Shh, you silence that annoying voice inside you. Those aren’t affordable! And take so much more energy than you have right now. But a nicer steak the next time you go shopping, a small joy, could still be an option.

Tomorrow, you’ll buy it tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Tonight, you’ll take your mind off your troubles.

So you go back to your increasing obsession with your boss.

You breathe in, thinking of the cologne you smelled on him today. Those eyes that narrow when you do something wrong, so sexy, it almost makes you want to make him angry.

You wonder what goes on in his mind when he gets annoyed at you. If he wants to punish you, if he could get away with anything, what kind of punishment would it be? another voice inside you asks.

Bending you over his desk?

Maybe.

Would he find serenity in slaps across your ass? A belt welting your cheeks.

Your previously relaxed limbs seize.

Fuck, it hurts. It hurts so much. There is cold wood against your front and stinging down your back. You can’t help but cry out, leather digging into your wrists. 

What?

How?

“Shhhhh. Keep dreaming.”

The leather bands around your wrists hurt. You’re dreaming? Really? But this is too real.

But how else could you explain this situation? Your legs spread open, Yoongi standing in between them as he admires your aching backside.

He runs his fingers over the welts across your ass, making you hiss in pain.

“Let’s keep going, shall we?”

You stay quiet, unable to move, crying out when sharp pain comes back down across your ass.

“Oh, now don’t go regretting this now. You wanted this remember?”

Another slap makes you scream out in pain. You want to wake up now. ‘Wake up!’

“You chose this. You gave away your freedom just like that, dumb girl.”

Another hard smack with his belt has you reeling, legs tightening around Yoongi’s torso as you twist your body in agony. You sob, unable to handle anymore pain.

So Yoongi forces pleasure on you instead with two fingers inserted into your pussy, massaging the throbbing pain away. He slips in and out easily, the wetness that gushed out of you was a shameful reminder that you had been a willing captive. You moan weakly, body tired.

He easily builds up your orgasm, practiced fingers curling into your sex, stroking you inside and out until you’re close to bursting.

Yoongi stops, taking the moment to strike your ass with his messy palm. You shiver and cry out. “P-Please,” you stutter, pulling at your restraints.

Yoongi resumes his ministrations, “Please...Sir,” he reminds you.

“Please, Sir, let me come,” you gasp.

Yoongi turns you around, lifting your restrained hands over your head. He moves so fast you yelp at the sudden movement, only realizing after he lets go that the loud thud you heard was his letter opener sticking into wood and restraining you to his desk.

Your breathe becomes ragged as you lie tied down, body exposed to him. His thumb swipes over your clit, making you cry out his name. He sits, rubbing lazy circles into you, watching your body uncontrollably react. The buildup is achingly slow, steady, reliable, you know your orgasm is approaching and you are ever so close to release, yet Yoongi draws it out, until you feel the pressure in your ears, in you throat, in your feet, in your chest.

If this was another fantasy, it was the best one yet. Yoongi had fire in his eyes, electric movement, a demanding touch. You cum hard, crying out.

It wasn’t over even after your orgasm finished, Yoongi moves in closer, lips kissing your inner thigh. “Stay still, relax,” he smirks when your breath hitches.

You lose your breath all over again when his face rests in between your legs, burying his mouth into your sex. His tongue rolls over your folds, sucks on your abused nub. You clench your jaw and accept his pleasure. Your body pulses over and over again as Yoongi eats you out, your legs and hands going numb, but like Yoongi promised, you felt everything he was giving you, until exhaustion overcame you.

-

You wake up, still wet. You try not to feel ashamed, but your shame sticks to your core, underwear drenched and stretched as you slept.

Maybe it’s time to look for another job.

-

“Here’s your reports. And the notes for your next presentation. And-” you hand Yoongi a warm cup of coffee, “-for you. Black, half sugar.”

“Thank you, y/n,” Yoongi grunts, sipping the coffee. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you smile, beaming.

Yoongi smiles too. It’s slight, barely there, but you notice the small curl of his lips. “You did well,” he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “My best girl.” 

You smile. “I-” you falter, “Have I…have we always been like this?” you think out loud.

“Does it matter? Doesn’t this feel right?” His hand caresses this inside of your thigh, disappearing under your skirt.

“S-Sir?!”

“Isn’t it nice working for me, why would you want to leave?”

You swallow, trying to sort out your surroundings, the happiness inside you shrinking away.

“Has that always been there?” you ask.

Yoongi glances at the corner of his office, pressing his fingers against your panties, rubbing on your clit through the sheer fabric. 

You stare at the relic that didn’t belong there, a golden piano. No, that wasn’t quite right, it was an organ.

Yoongi pulls your gaze back to him, caressing your check. “That poor little mind of yours...” he sighs, tutting. “Why don’t you forget about that and just enjoy yourself? You’re finally starting to be useful to me.” 

You can’t help but look for the organ from the corner of your eyes, a cold dripping feeling running down your spine.

Yoongi pulls you into his lap until you’re straddling him, your tight skirt digging into your thighs as you have to widen your legs around him. His mouth latches onto your neck to distract you, licking your clammy skin, sending shivers down you again.

His fingers curl inside your panties, moving the fabric to the side, so he can insert his digits fully. You hold his shoulders for stability, biting down moans.

“This is another dream.”

“Oh have you been dreaming about me?” he smirks.

“No!” you pant, “Yes...I’m dreaming.” His steady pressure moving inside you makes you dizzy, your jaw going slack as you lean into him. You can’t help but widen your legs, giving in to him in your lust. Yoongi takes the opportunity to kiss you, devouring your lips.

A knock on Yoongi’s office door stops his movements.

You stand up quickly, straightening your clothes, looking over at the corner where you could have sworn you had seen the large organ instrument.

“These came in for you, Sir.” A receptionist drops off three packages for him, excusing herself quietly before looking you over, her eyes narrowing at your appearance.

“You can leave now,” he says curtly and she huffs before leaving. He then turns back to you, swiping his fingers across his lips, tongue jutting out to roll over his wet glistening digits.

You pat down your skirt, legs wobbling. This wasn’t a dream?

“Come here.”

“Sir?” You look at the door, closed again, but unlocked.

“Come here, y/n.”

You take one hesitant step closer. Was this really happening? “W-We can’t,” you stutter out. “You can’t-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Yoongi laughs, “I’m the boss, remember? Now, come here.” He moves his chair further away, turning to fully face you, legs spread, a position you’ve only dreamed about.

You wipe the perspiration away from your brow and neck, looking down at his black Oxfords, until you’re finally courageous enough to look Yoongi in the eye, and what a mistake that was.

His eyes held a challenge that you couldn’t back away from. Yoongi was unbuckling his belt, undoing the button of his slacks.

He didn’t say come here this time, his pointer finger only had to draw one small movement to coax you to him.

He pulls you back to his lap easily, lets you clumsily touch him. This was really happening, and your boss seemed to be enjoying himself, acting so much nicer.

The smile he revealed, you believed to show kindness.

You smiled foolishly back, and he patted you head.

You hesitantly moved in for a kiss, pressing your lips softly to him, heart leaping when he opened his mouth for more, tasting his tongue.

The door opens again and you freeze, mortified at your predicament.

“I thought I told you to stay away.”

“You did, but look at her, she’s dripping with lust.”

With your back to the door, you can't see who is behind you, but his smooth sultry voice makes you shudder.

His words feels like daggers, each syllable chiseling away at you, fracturing what was left that held you together, revealing the truth underneath. It hit you like a splash of cold water, like waking up from a dream.

You look down at your hands, grasping tightly onto Yoongi’s shirt. “Father Park?”

“Hmm, not here,” he laughs, hands in his pockets, “Here you can call me Daddy,” he cocks his head, smiling.

Yoongi caresses your check, holding your jaw up when your head lulls to the side. You hear clicking, a belt buckle unfastening.

---

You wake up again in darkness.

That darkness never really left you, did it?

“Why are you doing this to me?” you call out.

The organ player reveals himself. He must have always been there too. “Because this is what you wanted,” he crawls over you, like he’s done countless times before, “what you begged for, prayed for, gave up everything for.”

“No, I didn’t want this,” you stutter out. Who was that woman you became? You barely recognized yourself in her...

Yet there were similarities, you suppose. If you had to recite a list of all your sins, you suppose your lists would look identical. If you had that kind of life, you suppose the path she took would have your footprints as well...

“Am I dead?” you look at your surroundings, soft sheets under you, fabric cascading over your body.

“Dead? No.” Yoongi chuckles. “You exist, y/n. Well, for us, death is just another existence.” Yoongi lies down next to you, arm over your stomach. You should push him away from you, but it’s cold and Yoongi is warmth, a fire lighting up the darkness.

“So I am dead...” you whisper.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Yoongi laughs. Humans can be quite amusing, he thinks. “What if I told you, you’re very much alive. See, the living realm is so much more fun, why would we keep you dead?”

“This place...”

“Welcome home,” Yoongi sighs, head snuggled to your shoulder.

“Is this hell?” you whisper, head heavy and limbs slow.

“No, not yet,” Yoongi smirks, “It’s just a dream. A place we can be alone together.”

“What is Jimin doing to my body?” you ask. You heart pounds, making you dizzy and anxious for the answer.

“Your body? Humans really are funny creatures...What is a body but a vessel to hold what’s really important, your soul, and who owns your soul, y/n?” he asks you. You stay quiet, resisting the answer, the consequence you’ll never escape from. “I will tell you something,” he whispers in your ear, “Your soul is here, with me. I hold it for the time being.” He places his hand over your heart, cupping your breast. “Feels just like it would in the physical world, doesn’t it?” he massages and tugs at the flesh. “Maybe it’s better, if you stay here with me?”

“Stay here, with you?” you repeat, trying to think of anything other than Yoongi’s slow torturous touch. You realize his touch feels familiar, skilled fingers like an old lover’s. You’ve betrayed yourself, over and over again.

You wonder if this is what you’ve become now, traitorous, self-gratifying, weak...did Father Park do this to you? Yoongi? Or was this...ache...void inside you always there, begging to be filled, to be touched?

And Yoongi was so excellent at making you feel whole, feel full of him and nothing else. He hugged you secure like a blanket, hands claiming you, soft and slow, with all the time in the world to make you his.

“If you decide you’d rather, let me have you, instead. Jimin is a master of desire. But we all are very adept at pleasure,” Yoongi smirks. “We can stay here for as long as you like. Your bones can turn to dust, but with me, here, your soul will remain. And you’ll be my Queen.” He kisses you, a slow drag of his lips pressing heavily onto yours making you feel even weaker.

The cascading fabric became tight around you, gold rings fastening it all in place to become a beautiful gown. You noticed Yoongi too wore gold, adorned on a black suit of armor fit for a King.

“Isn’t this what you dream of always?” he asks, a small smile pulling at his lips that made him look unthreatening. You knew better, but those tiny truths were being quieted by your King, who played his role so well, stuck his tongue inside your mouth and muted any lingering objections.

He places his hands on top of yours, stretching your arms upward, holding you in place, tongue taking away your voice. He lies his weight on top of you, kissing too sweetly the stretch of your neck, head nestled in the valley between your breasts, body sinking between your legs, mounting pleasure taking all your doubts away. “You don’t have to worry anymore,” Yoongi lies, “Give up. Give in.”

You try to keep your eyes open.

Yet your eyes flutter shut.

---

“Y/n.”

“Huh?” You turn your head in question.

Yoongi clears his throat, “As I was saying, due to the merger everyone is going to have to buckle down. We have to implement all new procedures, switch operating systems, upgrade the database... Are you listening!”

“Yes? Yes! Yes, Sir.” You sit up straighter, focusing on your boss.

“Expect to be here extra days, at least until everything settles in place.”

“Yes, Sir,” you nod, unsuccessfully trying not to frown.

“Also, since you will be managing twice as many people,” you wince at the thought, “You will have an assistant.”

On cue, there is a knock on Yoongi’s door.

“Hello,” you nod, standing up, forgetting you still had your binder in your lap, and papers scatter all over the floor. Yoongi curses as you quickly pick up your mess.

Your new assistant hands you the last stack of your remaining papers. You thank him, flustered at his kind gesture, your face heating up when you accidently bump his finger with your own.

“Hello,” he grins.

Yoongi lifts you up by the elbow, catching you off guard as you struggle to reorient yourself. “Nice to meet you, um...”

“Park Jimin.” Jimin licks his lips, beaming with excitement. “Hey, boss.”

You watch as the pair clasp hands, exchanging greetings. And a small part of you wonders, how it would feel

if their hands

were touching you instead.

---

So did you catch that y/n was actually reborn, did I fool you? But alas her soul is still theirs u.u

If this reaches 1k then I guess I will write a Mr. Kim version with the Kim trio, cause I’m not making myself suffer like this again for nothing lol :’D

#bts yandere #bts demon au #yandere bts #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #suga smut #suga x reader #bts one shot #bts scenarios #bts fantasy au

[smashboxgirl26]

sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! (though i don't state pronouns) reader summary: katsuki realizes his feelings a little too late contains: mentions of sex, angst (with a maybe happy ending) word count: 2.8k words masterlist

Under the shadows of the coming morning—the sun rising through the blinds of the bedroom windows in your apartment—Katsuki liked to pretend that you were his. 

Just his. 

He tended to be up earlier than you anyways—with years of waking up for hero work instilled in his sleep schedule—but he liked that time. It was quiet in the mornings; only the sounds of the early morning traffic and the birds nested in the tree next to your apartment to keep him company besides your breathing: breaths that were soft and sweet and slow. 

He would curl his palm over your cheek, pressing your figure closer to his as he watched your chest rise and fall under him, stroking your skin softly with his rough thumb—because you were his in that moment. 

Just his.

In those times, he would forget what the reality of his life was—the way you would stare at him tiredly every time he knocked on your door past 1 am, the lingering feeling of your fingers on his cheeks when he leaned in for a kiss, how you would oblige him no matter how many times you’d called him while drunk and upset, the kisses he left on your forehead before he left you alone the next morning—

—That you were not his and he was not yours, no matter how many times he liked to repeat it to himself.

It’s because of my work—he said to himself in the morning, stroking your hair out of your face.

It’s because I don’t have the time to commit—he whispered, nestling himself into the crook of your neck so he could smell the lingering scent of mint, strawberries, and sex.

If only we met under different circumstances… If only my job wasn’t so demanding… If only it was easier… If only I could commit…

If only…

After a while, you only nodded when he whispered those words at three am and your head was resting on his bare chest—like you believed him. 

(Before you would get upset, turn away, tell him to leave—and the cycle would repeat.)

You’d kiss his neck in acknowledgment, curling up in his arms like a cat would—uncaring, unaware. 

He wished he could do the same; just accept the reality in front of him. 

But it didn’t matter, because right now, you were his. 

Just his.

It was the complacency that let the cycle continue; but it was the complacency that became his downfall. He realized this when he stopped leaving you after ten minutes of waking up—waiting for the pink sky to turn bright, watching your eyes flutter open under the light of forthcoming day, the small smile that creeped into your eyes when you realized he was still there—mornings spent in the kitchen drinking coffee and sharing laughs while you paraded around in the sweatshirt he left the first time he came over. 

(It was his favorite in school—black and oversized with a small embroidered insignia of All Might above the right breast.

He didn’t even know he’d lost it until you came out wearing it one morning—and some of his old cologne was still lingering on the collar.)

He let himself forget—deluded himself—into thinking it would last. That he wouldn’t eventually have to pull away, and the dream-like haze he’d lost himself in with you wouldn’t end.

Just his.

It happened five weeks later, after a month-long mission: the morning after, and you were standing in a shirt that wasn’t his with a coffee mug pressed up to your lips like it would hide what you were about to say.

“I think… I think we should end this here, Katsuki.”

The words didn’t register at first, and he stood there staring—trying to come up with an answer.

“This?”

“...us.” Your lips pressed together solemnly, as if whispering a prayer under your breath—and you let out a tired sigh. So very tired. “Our relationship.”

He grunted, unwilling to open his mouth in retaliation. The fear that had been festering in his head began to rise, ugly and thick like bile coming up his throat—and he stood still, silently, staring at the coffee you made for him with too much sugar in the mug he got you from a mission a couple months ago. 

“...I’ve been seeing someone,” you let out—but Katsuki didn’t dare look at your face; Venom sat at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spit out—

—Because you were supposed to be his. 

Just his. “Don’t call it a relationship,” he settled on—enough spite in his voice that he knew it would deter you. “It never was one.”

He expected you to look relieved when he finally stared up at you again, but your expression seemed more soured than before: like you were expecting a different answer to push past his lips. It was quickly replaced though, by a smile that didn’t seem to meet your eyes like they did when you’d wake up in the morning to still find him in bed next to you, before taking another sip of your too-sweet coffee.

“Thank you, Katsuki.”

He didn’t know what you were thanking him for—your time together? For letting you go when you’d both been hooking up like this for almost a year?

And he wasn’t even sure why it felt so bitter. He’d known from the beginning that, whatever this was, wouldn’t last forever. 

Why would you stay in something like this, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to give you more than the little bit of time he already did? Why wouldn’t you want someone who consistently woke up with you in the morning to give you breakfast in bed, or brought you flowers after work, or could take you out in the evenings for dinner?

You deserved that—you deserved all of it. 

So why did he think (hope) you would settle for the little moments he offered you when you could have the world?

He kept his face blank when he left your apartment that morning—drilling the hole in his brain that had been dedicated to you in silence—simultaneously missing the sound of sobbing that came from your apartment as soon as he stepped out the door. 

He thought he would be okay—that in a week or so, it’d be back to how it was without you. 

But it wasn’t.

One week turned into two; two weeks turned into four; and four weeks turned into sitting at the bar, drunk while still in his hero outfit, with Kirishima sitting next to him as he rambled on about you.

You were the only thing he thought about, the only thing he could think about—he missed the scent of your body wash, the warmth of your skin on his, the small teasing smiles you’d give and the dimple that only appeared on one cheek, the too-sweet coffee he’d subject himself to drinking, watching the sunrise while feeling you laying next to him…

Everything about you felt like home.

He’d even gotten distracted the other day during a villain attack because there was a civvie who looked just like you in the line of fire and he’d panicked. 

“It was such a fuckin’ rookie, stupid ass mistake, and I still made it,” he took the last sip of his pint before letting out a small, frustrated grunt because it was finished. 

Eijirou moved to prevent Katsuki from flagging the bartender down for a refill—he was drunk enough after two pints; instead, he signaled for the check while Katsuki groaned in response.

“I’m not fuckin’ finished.”

“Yes, you are,” Eijirou stared at him with a pinched expression. “You have patrol first thing in the morning—you’ll thank me for it then.”

Katsuki huffed under his breath in resignation—unfortunately Eijirou was correct. Not only that, but the upcoming lecture he knew would be coming from the higher ups would be infinitely worse with a splitting hangover. 

“I’ll pay for it,” Eijirou shooed him off his barstool. “Just go stand outside for a bit, maybe the cold will help sober you up a little before you go to sleep.”

Katsuki could only huff in response; his mind was swimming and blurred and his head felt heavy enough that he could only comply with what Eijirou had said—he’d have to pay him back for it later. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he trudged outside. 

The late-winter-early-spring winds nipped against his skin as soon as the door shut behind him, and Katsuki pulled the scarf he was wearing higher up to fully cover his neck and chin—shifting uncomfortably in the cold while he waited for Kirishima. The street was basically empty except for the couple people walking in and out of the bar; he guessed that it was too cold for people to be wandering around at night. Most of the shops on the streets were closed too, leaving the only illumination to come from the blinking street lamps that lined the sidewalk and the gibbous moon above.

“What’s takin’ so fuckin’ long…” he muttered under his breath—trying to peer into the window to see what Kirishima was doing. 

When he turned back, he spotted a couple walking in the distance; though he couldn’t make out their faces, their intertwined hands and the closeness they exuded was enough. Katsuki could see his breath in the air when he sighed, loudly, mind buried in the memories of what could have been—until they were close enough that he could make out their faces: and he realized, it was you.

And you looked happy with the extra, he couldn’t lie—all cheeky, rosy smiles and giggles as he told you some joke that he could barely get through without laughing himself; you were holding a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips in one hand, with the other hand clasped in his (which he occasionally brought up to his lips to kiss the back of); he was carrying both the leftovers of the restaurant you both just went to and a shopping bag from a store you’d always liked.

You looked… at peace—with yourself, your situation.

But as happy as you looked, he couldn’t help the ugly, selfish feeling boiling in the back of his throat.

Because you were just his.

Because… that should’ve been him.

It should’ve been him—holding your hand, leading you through the night with confidence, and the other holding everything you wanted to buy while you smiled and giggled on his arm. 

You’d love teasing him. You’d loved spending time with him, as little as it was.

And though he’d refused it for so long, you’d loved him too.

He’d spent weeks, months, trying to ignore that fact when the two of you were together, if you could even classify it as that—and here he was, stuck in the same fucking position; he was destined to just watch you from afar as you moved on from the cycle he’d pushed you into, while he lost himself in it instead.

Maybe he was just selfish.

Katsuki didn’t even know when he started following you both, distantly (maybe he couldn’t help it, maybe he just wanted to make sure you reached home safe)—Eijirou was an afterthought at that point—and when you’d finally reached your apartment.

The extra even offered to come up and drop the bags off so you wouldn’t have to carry them up the stairs yourself, but you declined: kissing him shortly before waving goodbye and watching him leave. 

Watching you kiss him seemed to wake Katsuki up, his glazed over eyes finally seeming to register his surroundings: the streetlamps overhead, the light from the apartments lining the building, the little crack in the paint of the building where he’d once apprehended a villain to save you, you staring at him—

—you were staring at him? Katsuki didn’t shift from where he was standing as you walked up to him, leftovers and shopping and tulips forgotten on the sidewalk in front of your apartment.

“Katsuki?” Your lips barely moved, and your hands were pressed to your sides. You were trembling slightly—and he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or him.

He didn’t answer; he couldn’t will his mouth to open in front of you.

“Wh–What are you doing here?”

Even worse, he couldn’t bear to tell you the truth.

“I uh… I was on patrol nearby.”

You stared off to that little crack in the painted wall as if you were reminiscing, avoiding his gaze—your fingers rubbing together red in the cold with wobbly knuckles.

You were freezing.

“Here,” he grunted, slowly pulling his scarf from under his neck to hand it to you. Your expression instantly changed, and though you tried to dissuade him, the visible puffs of air coming from your nose were enough to tell him that it was something you needed.

“I… Thank you…” you whispered, letting him wrap it around you. “You always said you hated the cold, so…”

“Doesn’t matter. You clearly need it more than I do.”

This was his final act, he’d decided. He couldn’t hold you back any longer—not when he couldn’t give you what you wanted and needed out of him; no, it was what you deserved. Maybe his final act of stupidity would mean enough to him in the future that he’d be able to move on; and maybe one day the stupid scarf would just be a memento you had, instead of a reminder of the hurt he knew he’d brought.

And it was all so fucking dumb and poetic—standing in the spot you’d both met, saying your final goodbyes with your happy ending just waiting in the distance: waiting for him to get out of your life so it could be whole and right again.

But when you turned around, and started walking back towards the tulips he never bought you, leftovers from the restaurants where he never took you, and the clothes he’d never offered to buy—your apartment where his sweatshirt was laying in the first, top drawer of your dresser—the words were choked out of his throat.

Because you were supposed to be just his.

And maybe the alcohol in his system had the influence, but he couldn’t let you go: not when you were the best thing that’d ever happened in his entire life. 

The echoing sound of boots slapping loudly against the pavement and your name being called out by his heavy cries was enough to stop you in your tracks—and at first he thought it was because you didn’t want to see him again: but when he called your name once more and you turned around, he learned it was because you were already crying.

“I…I love you,” he whispered when he was close enough, fighting the urge to wipe your tears away like his own weren’t following quickly behind.

“Katsuki…” you smeared your cold fingers over your face, trying to wipe away the evidence that kept falling. “I-I…Y-You…Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for those words to come out of your lips?” you couldn’t really stop the tears from falling now—and he could only pathetically watch as they did. “Do you know how much I’ve fucking ached and cried over those three stupid fucking words? And now… Now that I finally feel okay, you’re standing here—pretending like you can make it alright again? How can you–”

“I love you,” he repeated, grounding his stance in the pavement. He couldn’t let you slip straight through his fingers. “I’ve loved you since I blasted that idiot against that wall to save you. I’ve loved you since you dressed my wounds in your apartment. I’ve loved you since we met at that coffee shop again down the street. I’ve loved you through every night spent together, and through every mission spent away…” He repeated your name once more, cradling your face in his rough, cold palms like he would an oath to his heart. “And—m’sorry… I-I know I was a fuckin’ idiot this whole time not realizin’ it, and you can hate me all you want but I… I just needed you to know, ‘kay?—I couldn’t let you walk out of my life without knowing.”

He couldn’t even face you anymore, not when he could feel the tear that’d begun leaking down his cheek at the thought of you rejecting his admission: a secret he’d kept close to his heart, burying it underneath years of repression and loathing.

And now it was out in the open, left for you to stomp on if you wanted to.

“You say that now, Katsuki,” you uttered, the tears now drying on your cheeks. “But we both know that whatever this is isn’t gonna last.” You scoffed bitterly, putting your hands over his—perhaps in an attempt to remove them from where they were plastered to your skin—but instead they just rested over his while your bottom lip wobbled dangerously. 

He knew you were right. He knew that everything you said was true.

And yet—

—he kissed you anyway. 

Because you knew: that you were just his and he was just yours.

#keke.writes #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo imagine #bnha angst #mha fic #mha fanfiction #mha angst

[coffeeghoulie]

heaven's grief, hell's rain

or 2.5k about Aether's bracelet, Mountain's garden, and Dew's grucifix.

special thank you to @forlorn-crows for helping with the flowers, hope you enjoy <3

title from Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

It's not a decision Aether makes lightly to stay behind. He's tired. He's been working doubles, between serving the band, the papacy, and serving in the infirmary. And, if he's honest, he thinks he's more useful at the Abbey, using his Lucifer-granted gifts to heal. He's always been taking care of his pack, he's good at what he does.

His pack takes it... well enough. Cirrus gracefully takes over his duties, leading the band pack as they get ready for this next tour, taking the two new summons under her wing. She takes his hand, kisses his cheek. Cumulus takes his face in her hands, presses their foreheads together, whispers that she's proud of him. Rain offers him a smile and a handshake, and Swiss kisses him between his horns and draws him into a tight hug. Sunny grins, bright like her namesake, happy someone else from the band pack is staying behind with her.

His mates, on the other hand? He can count on the claws of one hand the number of times he's ever seen Mountain cry. Dew's hands curl into fists, so tight he can smell the blood where his claws pierce his palms.

Dew storms out, the ends of his hair flickering with flame, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He hasn't been this out of control of his element since those first early days, after they knew he was going to survive the transition, barely out of the woods. Mountain follows, his steps uncharacteristically loud. Dew slams the door to his own room shut, and Mountain flees to his greenhouse.

Aether wishes that he could split himself in two, standing there, struck dumb as his mates turn their back on him. He honestly can't blame them. He fidgets with his bracelet, running his fingers along the silver chain, torn between two directions.

He goes to Dew first. Fire is far more volatile than earth, and he was Dew's before Mountain was summoned and joined their pack.

The door, surprisingly, is unlocked. It's dark, curtains drawn tight, and there's a Dew-sized lump underneath the covers. It's dusty in here, Dew spending most of his nights in Aether's oversized bed, big enough for three ghouls.

"Dew? Darling?" Aether breathes, the tension so thick he can almost taste it, the sulfur smoke scent of Dew's distress heavy on his tongue.

Dew sits up, copper eyes shining in the dark. "What are you doing here?"

Aether furrows his brow. "Checking on you, Dewey."

The fire ghoul shakes his head, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shake. With silent laughter or tears, Aether can't quite tell. "You should have gone to Mount, Aether. I've never seen Juniper that angry."

"Dewey, I'm here," Aether breathes, taking a hesitant step towards the bed. "I'll go to Mounty, but I know you're upset too. Please."

Dew growls under his breath, grumbling as he shifts on the bed. "Don't want to lose you, Aeth," he whispers, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. He clutches the silver grucifix he always wears so tightly his already pale knuckles go white.

"You're not," Aether promises, sitting down next to his mate. He goes to wrap his arm around Dew's waist, but hesitates. "Satanas help me, Dewdrop, you will not lose me."

Dew sniffles, swallowing with a click as he grabs Aether's wrist, starts playing with the silver bracelet. He counts the links like a rosary, rotating the slightly-too-loose jewelry around Aether's wrist, lips moving in a silent prayer. "You promise?" Dew asks, voice small, not tearing his eyes away from the bracelet. Aether doesn't have to pry with his quintessence to know who he's thinking of. He's thinking of them too.

"Cross my heart," Aether says, letting Dew trace his claws along the lines of his palm.

They sit there in silence, Aether pulling Dew carefully against his side, even though the fire ghoul hasn't been fragile in a long time. "Dew," Aether breathes. "I love you so much, you know?"

Dew hums, his broken tail wrapped tight around his own thigh. "I know."

Another long lull of silence. The tension not quite broken. He pulls Dew closer, turns and presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his obsidian horn.

"Go to Mount," Dew breathes after a while. "Junie needs to hear this too."

Aether nods, pressing another kiss to Dew's cheekbone. "I love you, darling. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Love you too," Dew whispers as Aether opens the door. He smiles at his mate, slipping out of his room and heading to the outside door.

It's a long walk down to Mountain's greenhouse, the glass building nestled right at the edge of the forest surrounding the Abbey. The heavy glass door is unlocked, much to Aether's surprise, and he pushes it open slowly, the old hinges creaking as it swings inward.

Mountain doesn't turn to face him when he enters the greenhouse. He plucks the baby spider plants from their vines, moving the seedlings to smaller pots.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, watching the way Mountain's back stiffens. He feels his heart clench as he sees the thorny vines wrapped tight around the base of Mountain's antlers.

"Aether," Mountain says, voice even and bitten back.

"Mount, please," Aether says, taking another step towards his earth ghoul.

"You didn't talk to any of us before making this decision, even though you know it affects all of us," Mountain says, still not turning back to face him. The shears snip, metal on metal, and Aether winces.

"I'm sorry, Mount. I knew-"

"You knew what?" Mountain says, and the worst thing is that there's no anger in his tone. Just cold, still, evenness. "That if we knew that you were gonna stop touring, we'd stay behind too?"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut. They sting in the humid air, or are those just tears? He can't really tell.

"Do you mean to tell me, Aether, that you don't remember what the clergy did to Ifrit when he said no? What they did to Omega, your fucking predecessor? What they did to Zeph?" Mountain's voice cracks, fingers ghosting over a silver striped leaf, the entire vine trembling under his touch.

Aether takes a long breath. The silence is thick, never mind the humidity. "That's why I didn't tell you. I thought that if it were just me, and something happened, even though Papa promised me nothing would happen," Aether stresses, "You two would be safe and away from here. And if I came with, I would crash and burn and they would get rid of me anyways. I'm tired, Mount. I'm sorry."

Mountain turns to face him for the first time, and Aether almost stumbles back a step. Mountain's eyes are red rimmed and puffy, tearstains streaking down into his stubble, lower lip trembling. "Nova," Mountain breathes, so quietly Aether almost thinks he imagines it. "I know you went to Dew first. He'd break if you were gone. If we lost you like we did the rest of our pack. But I need you to know it would break me. I'm your mate too."

Aether can't hold back the keen that he makes when he sees his mate in distress. "They need me in the infirmary, I'm not going anywhere, sweet thing," Aether swears. He starts to twist his bracelet around his wrist, trying to keep himself level. Mountain sets down his shears, tail thrashing behind him, distress rolling off of him in waves like the scent of rotting vegetation.

"You can say that all you want, Aether, but we both know."

"Mountain," Aether says. He runs a hand over his face. "Mount."

"What do you want me to do, nova?" The earth ghoul says, voice wavering like branches in a breeze. "The decision's already been made. You're staying here, while your mates and the rest of our pack leaves. And let's be honest with ourselves. Neither of us know if you'll be here when we come back."

Aether feels something shatter deep in the core of him as he watches Mountain's steady shoulders start to shake. He rushes forward just as Mountain's knees wobble, wrapping his mate up tight in an embrace, guiding his head down into the crook of his neck as he begins to sob.

He rubs his cheek against the velvet coating Mountain's spring antlers, unable to keep his own eyes from watering as he rubs Mountain's back, every muscle tense. For once, he doesn't know what to say. He just holds him, lets him cry.

Eventually, he coaxes Mountain back behind the curtain of hanging vines to his living area, a daybed big enough for the giant and his mates, a small table and chairs tucked next to a basin sink. They sit down on the daybed, their sides pressed flush together. Mountain turns, tucks his face back in the crook of Aether's neck.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, praying to the Father Below he can keep his voice level. "What can I do?"

Mountain sniffles, takes a second before he answers, pulling back from Aether's throat. "I miss them, Aeth. I miss them so much."

He's not looking at him, and Aether turns to follow Mountain's line of sight. He's staring almost blankly at the flower garden that blocks off this section of the greenhouse. There's a raised bed underneath one of the rafters, with a dozen hanging baskets that create a curtain of greenery. It's a visual cacophony of colors and shapes, but it's Mountain's pride and joy. Aether knows what this garden means, who each plant represents.

There's hanging baskets of oak-leafed geraniums, dotted with little purple flowers, and ones with fuzzy clusters of edelweiss. Deep purple, almost black irises shoot up from the main bed, petals ruffled and curled at the edges, broken up by bee balm and spider lilies and white and red snapdragons. A trellis of delicate yellow jasmine blossoms stands at the edge of the bed, surrounded by daffodils and catchfly and calla lilies and baby's breath.

But Mountain's eyes are drawn to the hanging cissus discolor vines, the silver striped, deep green leaves. Aether knows exactly who Mountain's thinking of.

"I know, sweet thing," Aether breathes, staring at Mountain's garden. "I miss them too."

Mountain tears his eyes away from Zephyr's plants, snapping to face Aether. "I don't want to miss you, nova," he says, just the slightest growl at the edge of his voice. Aether cups Mountain's cheek, runs his thumb over the prickly, tear-damp stubble there.

"It'll be okay, Mount. I'll be right here with Sunny when you and Dewey come home, promise."

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to calm himself. "Aether, you and Dew are the only ones of the old pack I have left. Please, nova, you gotta understand."

Aether doesn't respond, just pulls him tight into another tight hug, big hand cradled against the back of his head, guiding his face back to his neck. "I know, Mounty. I know."

They sit there until the sun sinks below the treeline, and eventually, they return to the pack. Aether starts his shifts in the infirmary as his mates start rehearsals with the new ghoul and ghoulette. He has a lot of time to think, intake and discharge paperwork always on his desk, about how best he can soothe his mates with their upcoming departure. He fidgets with his bracelet as he thinks, and he lights up as it hits him. That's it.

He borrows Swiss's utility knife, flipping it open to the needlenose pliers, staring at his bracelet, a little too big for his wrist, how the silver matches the metal of the grucifixes he and his mates wear around their necks.

Aether waits until the night before the pack and Papa are due to leave to act. It takes a little finessing, because while Mountain takes his necklace off when he goes to bed, Dew never stops wearing his, but a little quintosis to put the fire ghoul in a deeper sleep doesn't hurt. He works quickly as his mates grumble in their sleep, subconsciously reacting to the empty space in their bed. Aether sets the necklaces in his nightstand when he's done, muttering under his breath as he struggles to reclasp his bracelet around his wrist one handed, fingers smelling of silver polish and metal.

Once he gets it clasped, he climbs back into bed, holding his mates close as he too sinks into a deep sleep. He's going to miss this, and that's the last thought he has before unconsciousness takes him.

He's woken by Dew scrambling in his arms. "It's- it's not here, I don't- Aeth, Mount, my grucifix-" He paws at his own chest, feeling for something under his oversized shirt that isn't there.

Aether sits up, taking Dew's face in his hands softly as Mountain groans and stretches behind them. "Sorry, love, I took it off while you were asleep. I didn't mean to make you panic, I wanted to do something for you and Mounty before you two head out."

Dew's eyes are still wide, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. "Aeth, what do you mean? Where's my grucifix?"

Aether nods, palms up and open as he climbs out from the tangled mess of their limbs. "I have them, they're right here," he says, opening up the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out the two necklaces. Aether sets Mountain's down, turning back to Dew.

"Let me?" Aether asks, avoiding Dew's outstretched hands. Dew takes in a shaking breath, staring up at his mate, and nods. Aether loosens the adjustable cord, slipping it over Dew's head, pulling his sleep-mussed braid through, and sets the freshly-polished grucifix right over his mate's heart.

Dew furrows his brow as Aether pulls away, fingers going to touch the new addition to the necklace; a small ring, plain, unadorned, but the same gleaming silver as the grucifix. "Aeth, is this..."

"Hmm?" Aether asks, grabbing Mountain's and humming as he clasps it around the earth ghoul's neck, his antlers too wide for an adjustable cord like Dew's. He settles the grucifix and a matching ring over his heart as well.

"Your bracelet, nova," Mountain breathes, putting voice to what Dew's unable to.

Aether nods, eyes flickering down to said bracelet. "Thought you might like to have something of mine close to you when you go."

Dew grins, even as his eyes flood with tears, and tackles Aether into a fierce hug. "You're a sappy fucking bastard, Aether," he says, even as his own voice wavers, cheek pressed to Aether's throat.

"Love you too, Dewbug," he says, catching Mountain's equally misty eyes over his shoulder. Mountain has a hand pressed to his chest, pressing the grucifix and ring against his heart. "And I love you, sweet thing."

Mountain grins, standing and wrapping his long arms around both his mates, the three of them soaking in these last moments before inevitably they have to go their separate ways.

Aether's right. Mountain and Dew don't take off their necklaces for a long time, long after they return from tour. They keep that tiny piece of their mate close to them, to where he lives inside of them no matter what happens.

#constantly having feelings trio feelings #did i ignore my wiplist and send this one straight to the top? yeah #anyways #the black irises are omega #the calla lilies are mist #spider lilies are alpha #bee balm is ifrit #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #dot's writing #aether/mountain/dewdrop #also I wanna see if my Venn diagram of ‘fob songs I’ve titled fics after’ and ‘fob songs I’ve heard live’ will be a circle again lmao

[mncxbe]

aku x virgin female reader? 👉👈

OH my goodness yes- I inhaled your request. Here it is hope you enjoy it♡ I actually made Aku a soft dom for once^^

𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚♡

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smutty smut♡/ pussydrunk Aku

You've been in a relationship with Akutagawa for close to a year now and between the two of you, you were the more experienced one; from all points of view.

You were the one who helped him open up about his issues, who had a mature approach whenever his bad temper got the best of him- which would've otherwise ended up with him accidently starting a conflict- who taught him how to love and allow himself to feel loved. There was no aspect of your relationship that he was "better" at. Or so he thought.

One Sunday morning, one of the rare occasions when he wasn't summoned for work, you plopped yourself beside him on the linen couch; chunky cup of coffee held tightly in one hand as you pried your book open with the other. A soft chuckle rolled past your boyfriend's lips as he watched you struggle to turn the smooth pages.

As if sensing his eye on you your gaze playfully drifted to the side, meeting his for a brief second.

"What?" you asked, voice laced with honey as you quirked a brow.

"Nothing. Just looking at you. Can't I look at my sweet girlfriend?" His tone mimicked your own, causing you to giggle. You weren't used to your boyfriend being in such a playful mood; maybe it was the early hour or the fact that he finally had a free day, away from the stress caused by work, but you swore you could get used to this.

You held his gaze for a moment, teeth lightly nipping at your bottom lip as you rose the mug to your lips and took a sip of your coffee.

Just when Akutagawa thought you weren't going to add anything, returning his focus on the glowing screen of his phone, you spoke up.

"You're not a virgin, right?"

Your boyfriend was obviously taken aback by your question; his eyes snapped back at you and he coughed, levelling his voice.

"Come again?"

"I asked if you were a virgin? Like you know, if you fucked anyone before me."

There it was, that colourful language of yours that he still wasn't fully used to. Although surprised by your inquiry, the matter of fact tone of your voice completely threw him off.

"I know what a virgin is Y/N. And yea, I've been with other people before on occasion. Why do you-"

And then it hit him.

"Wait, you're a virgin!?" he voiced, eyes widening in surprise as you slowly nodded. He'd always assumed you've had sex before; you never shied away from intimacy, always willing to land him a helping hand when he was in need- or your sweet mouth. And thruthfully there hasn't been a time when you didn't manage to coax his orgasm in a matter of minutes; you just did too good of a job. Naturally, he thought you were experienced.

The thought of being your first fueled Akutagawa with a burning desire. Naturally, he was already looking forward to having sex with you, but being your first time ever? Being one step ahead with something? Getting to experience this moment with you?~ it was like his prayers were being answered. It was his chance to prove himself to you.

Lips curling into an amused smile, his slender fingers trailed up your thigh, drawing loose, soothing circles on your skin.

"Well, whenever you wanna do it just let me know. I promise it'll be okay, you can trust me with this" he reassured you, giving your thigh a squeeze.

You only nodded in response and without wasting a second set down the coffee cup by the foot of the couch.

"Okay. Let's do it now."

"Wait now, now? Like..."

"Yea, silly." you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you moved closer to him. Your boyfriend discarded his phone on the little wooden table beside the couch and shifted, allowing you to crawl onto his lap. His lips found yours, fingers tangling in your silky locks to deepen the kiss.

Your palms came to rest on his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his muscles when you felt his ice cold hands slipping under your tank top, gently sliding up your bare back.

When you pushed yourself flush against him, soft chest pressed snuggly against his, Akutagawa let out a low moan. He moved your panties aside and dipped two fingers into your sopping cunt, gently working you open for him.

A whine rolled past your lips at the sudden intrusion and you rose our hips but he quickly guided you back down on his fingers.

"Just take it f'me ok?" he mumbled between kisses and you nodded, earning a shower of praises from him. And oh, how well he knew how his words affected you, how you clenched like a vice around his fingers whenever he called you his good girl, his sweet angel.

After a few minutes the aching in his cock became unbearable. Sliding his shorts off his hips he tossed them on the ground before taking himself out of his underwear.

"So, how do you wanna do this babe?" he asked, feigning a nonchalant attitude as he traced his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading precum on the tip.

You took off your soaked lingerie, straddling his hips. "Think I wanna take it at my own pace for now. Is it ok?"

"Of course. Go ahead" he nodded, helping you allign his cock to your entrance before slowly sinking low until he bottomed out.

It took all the self restraint he had for Akutagawa not to cum the second your gummy walls wrapped around him, squeezing him like a vice.

"God baby you're so tight f-fuck" he groaned, eyelids fluttering; his hands took a gentle hold of your hips, waiting for a sign from you.

The stretch was more intense than you imagined, his dick splitting you open so well. Heat pooled into your core and you eventually started rolling your hips against his.

Choked moans and whines rolled past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Your boyfriend's grip on your waist tightened as he guided your motions.

"You just enjoy it dear. Gonna take good care of you" he babbled out and you allowed yourself to relax under his touch.

Akutagawa was doing his best to hold back, to take you easy and treat you softly; but the more you tightened around him, the harder it was. The cocktail of pleasure building up inside him was only increased by your actions; one shot of you moaning out his name like your only prayer, two shots of your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your skull as you fiercly dug your nails into his chest, leaving burning marks. An ounce of you bouncing on his dick, pretty tits squeezed by your lace trimmed tank top

He suddenly flipped you over, pushing your head into the arm of the mattress as his other hand hoisted up your hips.

"Ryuu what're you~" you mewled but were cut off by his deep thrust.

His words were slurred as he picked up the pace, ramming himself into your sopping hole "Shh baby just wanna take you like this oH god..."

The new position allowed him to reach your sweetest spots. Each of his thrusts was pure extasy, a drug you swore you could get hooked on; his hips smacking against your ass as pushed you closer to your release. Your manicured nails clawed at the linen armrest, rubbing against the rough material, lightly heating up the tips of your fingers.

"Fuck baby I'm gonna cum" you cried out, tears pooling at your lashline as you squeezing your eyes shut.

Akuatagwa's fingers slid between yours, gripping the back of your hand.

"Go ahead 'n cum pretty. Make a mess on me mkay?"

And then you came hard; your walls clenched around his cock, milking him of all he's worth as he let out a shaky groan. Your hand grew limp in his and you slowly closed your eyes.

When he eventually pulled out and tucked himself back in his slacks, a worried look painted itself on his face.

"Y/N are you ok?" he asked softly, leaning over your frame to brush a few stray strands of hair from your damp forehead only to reveal your impish smile.

"Yea... I feel amazing" you cooed, earning a giggle from him.

"Guess I tired you out, pretty."

Nodding, you dangled your arm off the side of the couch as you made space for him to join you.

"Come and rest with me for a while"

Your boyfried complied and, with a smile, cuddled himself up against you, relishing the heat and softness of your body and you both fell asleep; just when the sun was starting to shine its honeyed rays through the living room's tinted windows.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x you #akutagawa smut

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Type of husband kisaki would be

A/N ::: Here you go, finally!! I'm SO SORRY about how long this has taken and that I completely shit out on your other ask. My brain just could not compute it. I hope you like these.

C/W ::: Husband!Kisaki x F.reader (wife), nothing really? Brief hinting at sex, mentions of kissing. I think that's all.

What type of husband Kisaki would be

Ohhhh Kisaki, Kisaki, Kisaki.

He would be the type of husband to be up before the sun most days and have the coffee on prior to his eyes even opening.

He likes to lay there and watch you sleep for a few minutes and say a silent little prayer about all of the things he is grateful for. (You, your kids, your home and the many others that he considers true blessings.)

He doesn't have a ton of time for cooking, but he loves to make a delicious breakfast that you can enjoy together.

He enjoys watching you eat and taking in all of the compliments.

Constructive criticism is ... heard? Lol but he doesn't always like what you have to say.

He always makes sure to check in with you throughout the day to see if you need anything and if you're doing ok.

There have been days when he would come home early if you said you needed him. But you really try not to exhaust that option because you know that he's a busy man and doesn't need to be weighed down by your insecurities as well.

Though that only ends up making him (lovingly) yell at you about how you're his everything and if you're not doing well, he won't be doing well.

He's an attentive lover and always makes sure that you are satisfied. You two have your fair share of fun in the bedroom and it's not just him doing all the work.

He's always willing to try new things with you and loves to see your creative side come out.

You were painfully shy about your body when the two of you first got together. I mean, he's fit as a fiddle and you're ... you're ... you.

Kisaki loves it, though. The contrast between your bodies has always been a favorite.

He loves that he can lift you up with ease and pin you against the wall for a long, deep kiss (or whatever else he's got going on in that brain of his).

He also loves that you can't do the same for him, but you have other talents that he adores.

It makes him happy that you're different from him. Marrying someone who is the exact same as him would bore the shit out of him (and not to mention, probably really *piss* him off).

Kisaki has ... and always will enjoy the diversity between you and him.

He's not perfect by any means, and he'll admit that he's done some shady shit in the past. But he's always tried to be a good husband and father and hopes that his actions speak louder than words.

Kisaki knows that he has a lot to make up for, but he's working on it and trying his best to be a better person (for you - low-key fuck almost everyone else).

He wants to be the type of husband you can be proud of, and he knows that he can get there with a little more effort and patience.

He's willing to put in the work and is looking forward to the day where he can proudly say that he's reached all of his goals.

For now, though, he's content with being your husband and enjoying the time you have together with your growing family.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #kisaki x reader #kisaki headcanons #tetta kisaki #tetta headcanons #tokrev #tokyo rev x reader #kisaki x you #kisaki x y/n #headcanons #tokyo rev x you

[tanoraqui]

key elements of Crownless (the Young Aragorn show that lives in my head and heart) season 1:

(Note that I will play a little fast and loose with timelines and for the sake of a better story. And/or take ruthless advantage of canonical slow Dúnedain aging to spread the timeline out over several decades)

First episode(s) is Aragorn (age 21, functionally late teens) leaving Rivendell to start wandering the wilds with the Rangers. I would do Elrond & his people dirty and say that Aragorn has been kinda sheltered growing up, a little because Elves tend to baby Men, especially young Men, and mostly because everyone wanted to be sure Isildur’s heir was safe as darkness grew in the world, especially after his father was killed when he was 2.

So Aragorn starts with significant book smarts, homely peace smarts—historical knowledge, animal friendship, herblore, diplomacy skills, technical sword/knife/bow skills…but he doesn’t know the dirty fighting tricks that win a fight. His tracking, hunting, forest stealth, etc. skills…suck at first. He’s prone to freeze in urgent healing (or combat) situations, because he’s never done this on his own before—though he has a natural talent for the ‘calling people back from death’ thing we see in LotR.

(This gives Aragorn obvious skills to pick up that demonstrate his character growth as a leader, while also establishing from the start that his real talent in kingship is, always was, diplomacy, strength of character & connection with his people, literal and metaphorical healing. Also, weirdass plans, often based on things he read, with success resting on luck/prayer/hope more than any reasonable thing…including a willingness to trust strange new and/or sketchy people…and they work.)

Maybe eps 1-2 is a double-length episode: opens with newly widowed Gilraen arriving in distress with a toddler 18 years ago, then first half is mostly restless late teen!Estel in Rivendell, ending with Elrond revealing his true name, broken sword, time to go forth… Smash cut to Aragorn tripping in the forest and falling in a stream while 2 other baby Rangers laugh at him and whoever’s stuck training these new recruits sighs heavily. There’s a lot of “this is the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Isildur’s heir?”

Format: 22ep 44min monster of the week (like GOD INTENDED) focused on the newest young Rangers: Aragorn, Halbarad, Dúnawen (OC: “maiden of the west”, don’t @ me for naming), as they range throughout Eriador learning how to be badasses guarding the boundaries of civilization. Monsters include orcs, wargs, mortal bandits, trolls, giant spiders, a small ice wyvern that made its way to northern Dale, barrow-wrights, unhoused fëa, rival clans of Men or maybe Dwarves who are about to go to blood feud war…

…and a slowly mounting season plot of the trouble of 3 Nazgúl reoccupying Dol Goldur, after the White Council forced the “Necromancer” out 15ish years ago. (Riling up ghosts throughout the countryside? Something something themes of moving on from the past. Also, can’t go wrong with an episode in which heroes must confront their literal personal ghosts.)

Repeat cameos from Elrohir & Elladan, cousins of all Mannish Dúnedain (and kind of older brothers to Aragorn in particular.) Are they helping him? Are they harder on him than on the other new recruits? Are they good cop/bad cop-ing it?

Arwen! Meet briefly ep1 and/or she’s a key feature of midseason finale; return in season finale to be badass. “Tinúviel! Tinúviel!” scene in Lothlórien casts a hiccup in a fledgling romance between Aragorn and Dúnawen

All combinations of Aragorn/Halbarad/Dunawen ARE welcome, nay, encouraged. They’re functionally in college and they’re all hot, and constantly in near-death situations. I advise the writers to have fun. Bisexuality is free.

Gandalf introduction early, ep2? Probably also in finale (something of a large team-up).

Late season bottle episode, maybe just before a 2-parter finale, in which due to a thunderstorm/mudslide/cave-in incident, Aragorn, Halbarad and Dunawen are trapped in a cave/small series of caves with a random assortment of other travelers on the road west of Bree: a pair of Dwarvish merchants, a few men, 1 elf (journeying to the Havens to Sail?), and 1 hobbit, Mr. Drogo Baggins of Hobbiton, who was making a perilous journey to Bree and back in order to fetch his beloved, very pregnant wife a particular kind of cheese she was craving. No loss of air threat, but they’re stuck. Obviously getting Drogo home is of utmost importance (and everyone else needs to get home safe, too). Tempers run high! Only once the Junior Rangers sort out their late-season interpersonal drama can Aragorn rise to the occasion and organize/mediate this microcosm of Middle Earth’s populace to dig their way out of this cave.

Aragorn is exceptionally good at facing down Nazgúl and their weaponized despair because he has—indeed, he is, by name!—hope. This show is about hope first and teamwork second, and looking badass in a beautiful landscape while Howard Shore music swells third.

[s2 in notes]

#lotr #lord of the rings #Aragorn #ficlet #my fic

[chvoswxtch]

Congratulations on 3k!!! You deserve all of that and more!!! Thank you for all your hard work and excellent writing!!! <3

Can I request a midnights (from the vault) ticket with either Matthew or Frank (up to you because for the life of me I couldn’t decided. I feel it fits Matt better but Frank is my number 1 boy 🥴) with the quote “You, you love it how I move you. You love it how I touch you. My one, when all is said and done. You'll believe God is a woman”

oh nonnie, i know frank is your main guy, but this song is so matty coded

and y'all know i love some good slutty religious imagery

thank you so much for stopping by the tour!!! 🖤

as a reminder, from the vault means it's spicy! (minors dni)

blurb below the cut

god is a woman (matt's version) (from the vault)*

when all is said and done / you’ll believe god is a woman

Matt didn’t think it was humanly possible to feel this way. He was suspended in a delectable juxtaposition of his body feeling so tightly wound up, but also so completely free despite his righteous fists being pinned to the mattress above his head. His pleas for mercy got mistranslated on their journey from his brain to his tongue and ended up becoming repetitive prayers for more.

But you didn’t punish the Devil for his greed.

Instead, you granted him exactly what he asked for.

After all, he’d been such a good boy. Matt never hesitated to drop to his knees to beg for your forgiveness when another late night turned into another early morning with cold, empty sheets. He often sought retribution at the altar between your thighs, confessing his sins with his wicked tongue tracing each letter of his prayer of penance against your clit. He’d stay on his knees and worship you for as long as you could stand it, and then he’d seek communion in your body, and only when you baptized his greedy cock with the pure essence that flooded from your temple did he finally feel forgiven.

But tonight, you weren’t waiting for Matt to attend worship on his own. You were demanding it.

The fucked out look on Matt’s face as you rode his cock and held his strong hands captive, rendering him fully at your mercy, sent a surge of power through your veins. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, the most feared man in the city, was writhing and whimpering beneath you, begging and pleading, and it made you feel like a God. 

Moving your hips in slow, purposeful circles, you elicited the most beautiful hymn from Matt’s lips. He was so close to escaping purgatory, the entrance to the heaven within you dangling in front of him like enticing forbidden fruit. An angelic note of faux sympathy sounded from your lips as you stared down at him.

“You need it, don’t you baby?”

Every single one of Matt’s senses were completely overstimulated, and he was nearly on the verge of tears, he was so desperate. His blank hazel eyes stared up in your direction as if you were the heavens, and his kiss bitten plump lips were parted as he panted, calling out your name over and over like you were the only deity he could remember the name of. He prayed harder to you than he had ever prayed for anything in his entire life. He needed you to grant him permission to the Eden within your walls.

“pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

A deviant grin stretched across your lips watching your Devil fall from grace.

“Let me have it, Matty. Give it all to me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and you knew he would. Matt was devoutly and irrevocably yours; body and soul. 

And at that moment, his God was a woman, and it was you.

#court's 3k followers celebration #court's 3k friends celebration #the eras tour (court's version) #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock request #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil request #daredevil blurb #daredevil smut

[stargazedwinchester]

Angel Girl | Dean

Summary: Dean learns you're not human, but an angel.

Requested here! Thank you! Let me know if you want a part 2! Felt like I could write this forever but obvs had to end it at some point lmaoo

Word count: 1,299

Taglist: @rowenalovee @amythedoctor @girlsforpjm @chaospossum @take-it-on-the-run, @themidnightwitch44 @linkthetrashgoblin

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Dean's love life has always been rocky, from casual dating to raunchy hookups with the girls he finds at the local bar and waking up the next day simultaneously enjoying and regretting his life choices. He's never settled for anyone and the relationships he's had over the years have almost always ended on the wrong foot.

Until he met you.

Castiel had introduced you both whilst Cas had made an excuse of hearing your prayer over an issue that made him realise you're not quite the person that needed help, of course, because you were different.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat, his heart beating 100 times a second. His eyes scan the room to ensure he's awake and not in a dream state. He takes a deep breath, before propping himself up in bed, looking over at his bedside table and checking the time. 5:24 AM. "God damn it," He sighs, placing his head in his hands, hunching over. He rubs his stubble to try and wake himself up. His fern-coloured orbs meet with the ceiling. 

"God, just give me a break." He whispers, resting his forearm across his eyes. "Please let me sleep." He huffs, attempting to relax before sleeping again. The sound of large wings echoes the room, and Dean refuses to move his arm. "Cas, get out." He shoos, waving his spare hand.

"Hello." A sweet voice appears, making Dean jump out of his skin. He reaches for his gun and points it at the figure standing at his door. Fear takes over his face, his eyes enlarged and his mouth slightly agape. 

"Y/N?" He asks, his face reading multiple different emotions. "How did you get here?" He stumbles, his thought process is jumbled right now. His gorgeous eyes meet yours, then you look down at the floor. 

"I heard your prayer."

"M-my prayer?" He lays his gun flat on the bed, his gaze unable to move away from you. You nod.

"It's universal... You pray to God and angels can answer." You smile at him, yet he remains confused. "Y/N, you're an angel?" He questions, gradually getting up from the mattress. You assume that he already knew, maybe Cas had told him prior but Dean chose to not say anything about it. The surprise from Dean surprises you. "You didn't know?" You say softly, and Dean shakes his head. "I thought Cas would have told you, but that's okay. I guess there's much to talk about." You chuckle lightly. "Yeah, we do."

You tell Dean that you'll be back the following day to answer all of his questions, and allow him to return to bed so he can go back to sleep.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

You arrive at the bunker, the early morning Kansas sun beaming down onto the back of your head as you let yourself in. You walk down the stairs and meet Dean in the kitchen who's cooking up breakfast for himself. "Hey Dean," You greet, showing him a friendly smile. You stand next to the counter as he turns around and faces you. "Hey Y/N. You didn't zap in today?" He asks, scraping scrambled eggs and bacon onto two plates. "No, I wanted to seem more... normal. Human, I guess. Did it work?" You ask, a gleam in your eyes. "Yeah, I'd say so." He starts, reaching over to the drawer where the cutlery is kept. He passes you a plate, a knife and a fork. "Y'know, I was thinking last night..." He says, leading you over to the dining table. "I want to show you how to act more human. So..." He slides the plate in front of you, the steam travelling up toward your face, the smell engulfing you.

"I thought we could start with you trying food. Here," He passes you the cutlery in the correct hands. "Dig in." He finishes, piling his breakfast onto his fork and bringing it to his mouth. You attempt to do the same, but much slower. You bring it up to your mouth, allowing the food to sit there in your mouth for a few seconds. You swallow, Dean watching your every move. "See? Not so bad is it?" He chuckles lightly, and you smile at him. "No, it's quite enjoyable. The flavours are quite foreign." You say, lifting another forkful. 

You have both finished your breakfast, Dean's crack at trying to help you has definitely helped, but he's not done yet. He suggests that you both take a night to yourselves to catch you up on the most iconic movies. 

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

"I had an idea of watching a chick flick for tonight," He almost shivers at the idea. "Just this once. Then we can watch Star Wars." He says, and you laugh at him. "Dean Winchester watching a movie made specifically for teenagers... I never thought I'd see the day." You chuckle, and he smirks at your quick comment. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with a chick flick every so often." He admits, switching the TV over to something very close to Netflix, but is borderline illegal. Upon choosing Wild Child, you both sit back, remaining quiet throughout the whole movie.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

The movie finishes, and you glance over to Dean, who's sound asleep sitting up, his arms are crossed and one leg is resting over the other. Despite being an angel, you can't help but feel something warm and fuzzy ignite in your chest, a feeling of adoration and... something else you can't quite put your finger on. He shuffles, and you nudge his arm gently. "Dean," You whisper, trying to not startle him. He groans, his eyes flickering. "Dean, the movie has finished." You shake him again, and he rapidly sits up properly. "I'm awake." Dean rubs his eyes, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He stretches, his arms above his head. His t-shirt rides up a little, and you can't help but glare. He rests one arm above his head, and the other beside you on the sofa. 

Dean reaches for the TV remote and searches for one of the many Star Wars movies. "So, how'd you like that one?" He asks with his gaze upon you. You nod. "It was good. I can see why it's so popular." You smile, a gentle look on your face. He grins at you, nodding his head. "Can't say I've seen it many times myself," He clears his throat, searching for 'The Empire Strikes Back'. "Dean, I know when you're lying." You add, scanning his face. "What? No I'm not," He chuckles nervously, avoiding any eye contact with you. "Yes you are, I can feel it. Your weird behaviour is offputting."

"Offputting? That's rude." He jokes and the movie auto-plays. The intro to the movie startles you, and Dean laughs at you. "That's really loud." You huff, and Dean relaxes an arm around your shoulders. "It's okay. That's the only loud part of the movie." He adds, shuffling closer to you. "Now, this is one of the best Star Wars movies they've ever made," He starts, and you allow him to ramble about the context of the movie and which actor plays what character. You sit and stare at him whilst he has his rant, his passion for something has really intrigued you like no other.

Everyone will always have a say about supernatural beings and how they differ from humans, how the stereotype that angels are typically full of wisdom and forgiveness. But for you, wisdom is the need to know the true forms of the Winchester brothers, especially Dean. Something about him and the need to aid other people except himself has always bewildered you. 

Hoping that this will help you bring him closer to you, you'd just about do anything for that to happen.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #sam winchester #sam winchester imagines #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester spn

[markberries]

my only muse ﹒ 5

sypnosis ﹕ you’re mark’s classmate and you’re both english majors. mark makes music on the side and posts it on soundcloud and he asks you to promote it, but it genuinely sucks a— it’s.. interesting.

genre + ﹕ social media au f!reader, humour, fluff, college au, mark + y/n are both english majors, mark is a loser, bsfs!karina ryujin yunjin yangyang & xiaojun

wc ﹕ 1.4k

masterlist + comment/msg me to be added to the taglist

taglist ✦ @replayenthusiast @jeongintwt

the crisp end of winter and soon to be spring air tickles your cheeks, making your ears cold and your hands colder. there’s a book bag slung over your shoulder, slightly swaying as you pace the campus halls to make it to your first lecture of the day.

the bustling atmosphere makes it nearly impossible to get around it, but after having to walk this route many times, you’ve grown accustomed to the path you need to take in order to make it to class on time. the sounds of students engaging hits your ears as your shoes pat against the floor, your subconscious picking up bits and pieces of conversations as you make your way towards your composition writing class.

the first thing you do when you make it to the door is poke your head inside, scanning the few students who have decided to show up as early as you. there’s no sight of mark yet, which makes you let out an internal sigh of relief. this meant he wouldn’t have a chance to make conversation before the class starts, and you could sit away from him and dart out of the room as soon as the lecture ends.

“y/n?” a voice from behind you makes you flinch, grasping at your chest as your heart races within it. you immediately snap your head to the owner of the voice behind you, your stomach dropping when you recognize the same korean boy who’s music is terrible.

“oh, hey mark,” you greet him, attempting to be as casual and not awkward as possible. you can feel your heart rate beginning to slow after the short scare, your hands coming back to your sides. “you scared me.”

the brown haired korean-canadian looks at you with a smile, his fingers around his black backpack straps as he raises his eyebrow. his figure is adorned with a pair of black basketball shorts and a dark blue hoodie, something along the lines of clothes he wears nearly everyday. his glasses sit comfortably on his nose bridge, the silver frames complimenting his brown eyes.

“sorry dude, didn’t mean to scare you,” mark apologizes, reaching out and giving your shoulder a slight pat. “wanna head inside and sit together? i can show you what i’ve been working on.”

the dreadful question escapes from mark’s lips, making you unexcited for what’s to come. you don’t want to outright insult mark, even more so because you two sit on the title of mere acquaintances, so you settle for smiling and nodding your head. “yeah, sure. class doesn’t start for another.. fifteen minutes.”

mark’s face lights up pleasantly, his body stepping out of the way for you to enter the lecture hall. he gestures his arms forward, maintaining a good amount of personal space. “after you, then.”

you nod your head once to signify a thank you, walking into the high ceiling and large classroom with mark following behind you. there’s still an awkwardness that sits in the air, and you’re unsure if mark can sense it, or if it’s just all in your head. you’ve never spoken to mark on a friendly level, only interacting when needed, in terms of joint assignments or homework assistance.

you and mark end up sitting near the back of the class, the sunlight casting a soft glow from the windows behind you two. you sigh, setting down your book bag underneath your desk, and begin getting yourself sorted. you pray that mark will wait until after class to decide to show you his ‘music’, so that you could devise a plan to sneakily escape before he gets the chance to.

but, instead of your prayers being answered, you’re met with the devil’s wrath as mark nudges you lightly on the arm. your head slowly turns in his direction, trying to control your facial muscles to keep your smile from dropping as your eyes flick to the airpod he holds out in one of his hands. his expression is alike to that of a child showing their mother a badly drawn sketch, full of excitement and awaiting praise as he offers you the airpod.

“oh, thanks,” you manage to say in a sweet voice, your fingers lightly grazing mark’s warm palm as you take the item from his grasp. you watch as he loads up his laptop, opening up what looks like a professional music making app. as to how mark makes shit music with such great resources, you still remain clueless. you place the airpod in your ear, hoping to god that this doesn’t destroy your ear drums.

“just let me know if it’s too loud, i’ll turn it down for you,” mark grins, leaning back in his chair as his finger hovers over the space bar. he presses play, then turns to you, watching your reaction with an eager expression.

mark’s definition of kpop music is not for the faint of heart. your eyebrows subconsciously furrow together as the horrible tunes begin to sound, but you try to remain as positive as possible. your eyes keep focus on mark’s laptop screen, afraid that if you lock gazes with mark, he’ll be able to tell how much you dislike the song he’s made for you. you can’t even tell what instruments are being played, and his singing is nearly inaudible with the poor mixing of the audio.

you would have to figure out how to tell mark you weren’t going to promote his music on your twitter account, which leaves a slight feeling of guilt weighing on your shoulders; especially because you can tell the boy is working hard to make music that better suits the theme of your social media.

tired and somehow annoyed with the song echoing in your skull, you reach out to pause the music with a swift motion. mark still seems oblivious to your disdain for his music, still gazing at you with that same excited grin. you have to resist the urge to rub your temples and sigh, instead opting into giving him a closed lipped smile while letting out an awkward chuckle.

“so,” mark leans forward in his seat, making your neck and cheeks heat up due to sheer second hand embarrassment. “what do you think? good enough to post? i’m open to constructive criticism.”

you pause, trying to find the correct words that won’t hurt mark’s feelings. you do think he has potential, since he has a good voice (underneath the aggressive autotune) and a strong passion for music, but you’re unsure of how to tell him that this song he made is hot trash. “no.. um.. not quite..”

you make sure to avoid mark’s eyes, not wanting to see whether or not he has a disappointed expression. you rub the back of your neck, keeping your eyebrows scrunched up as you continue to rack your brain for the correct wording to use.

“oh yeah? what do you think i should change?” mark’s voice perks up, and you’re slightly baffled by his unwavering tone. he still seems excited, and thankfully, not upset over the fact that you deemed his work as ‘not good enough to post’.

“i’m not like.. an expert on music making or anything, but i think you should balance out your voice and the instrumental,” you admit, finally meeting mark’s brown orbs as you turn to him. he nods his head, listening intently to your advice as you continue speaking. “and maybe stick to one consecutive theme and pace..? i think that’ll help you improve.”

mark jots down your notes on his laptop, typing them up and highlighting some of your words. you let out an internal sigh of relief, grateful that mark is truly taking this as constructive criticism. he seems open minded, and not one to argue if someone is genuinely trying to help him get better at what he enjoys doing.

“wow dude, thank you so much,” mark smiles, turning back to you with a glint of elation in his eyes. “i like when people tell me what i’m doing wrong. it helps me a lot. i’ll make sure to do better and make a good song for you.”

for some reason, with mark’s words echoing in your brain, your heart swells. it may be because of the fact that he’s a good looking guy writing you a song (although it’s nothing personal), but a part of you views it as endearing. you’re still unsure of whether or not you’ll actually promote his music on your twitter account, but you’re still glad you were able to help him in any meaningful sort of way.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct fanfic #nct fluff #mark #mark lee #mark fanfic #mark fluff #nct smau #mark smau #mark lee smau #mark lee fanfic #mark lee fluff #markberries #my only muse

[badolmen]

When I was little, some Palestinian Christians came to our church.

They didn’t call themselves that, of course, being in a white, right leaning American town in the mid to early 2010s. ‘Fellow Catholics from the Holy Land’ the reader for the week announced them as. After mass there were always announcements, and I remember this Arab man with a dark jacket taking to the pulpit. He and those with him were sitting in the front pew - just ahead of where my family sat each week.

He talked about his home in Bethlehem - though it was a little out of season, Christmas well since passed. He talked about the poverty there, the socioeconomic factors that made life difficult for Palestinians, but this was after a long Irish mass with a long Irish homily and no one was listening that intently. My mom whispered that he didn’t have much of an accent, and my dad whispered back that he agreed - not too difficult to understand.

They were here to sell treasures from the Holy Land. Hand carved olive wood rosaries and prayer beads, nativity sets, reliefs of the last supper. ‘A trade passed down from father to son for generations.’

The most expensive item they had was a lovely crucifix - olive wood inlaid with a hand carved mosaic of mother of pearl, four wells at the end of each piece of the cross containing olive leaves, incense, stones, and soil. It was over $50 - I remember because I begged my mother to let me spend my usual summer stipend of $25 for the next two years, and it still wasn’t quite enough. A few dollars short. But he gave it to me anyway.

For years I almost never took it out of its box - it was too pretty, I was too afraid to break it. I first hung it up after I moved out for college - it always caught the thin winter sunlight in my dorm room and seemed to glow. But it got dusty, and was difficult to clean with all its intricacies, so I put it back in its box. Safe with the dried palm leaves from last year’s Lent.

I saw a post a bit ago, mentioning how hand carved mother of pearl is a more obscure Palestinian art form, and I remembered my crucifix. I remembered the Palestinian Christian man who nobody really listened to at 9 AM on a Sunday while their kids begged to leave and get breakfast.

I counted the individual pieces of mother of pearl today. There’s 89. The cross itself is made of 14 pieces of olive wood perfectly slotted together. The figure of Christ is silver, weathering green with age. I’ve never washed this crucifix, but I probably should. There’s a stamp across the back - ‘Jerusalem’ - and another, fainter (quickly pressed with just too little ink) - ‘Mother of Pearl is Hand Made by Christian Families in the Hole Land.’ That’s not a typo - the stamp has an ‘e’ instead of a ‘y.’ It’s smudged, so maybe there’s an ‘i’ in there, but maybe not.

I looked up the company that made it today. Their website is freshly dated for 2024 in the bottom right hand corner, but they haven’t updated their blog posts since 2022. The posts that are up talk of sites of faith, the art process, and COVID. There’s a noticeable number of spelling and grammar errors, but I don’t really care.

The cross I own is listed as a work from Majdi Alshayeb. I can’t find them on social media, not at first glance. I hope they’re well. I wish they knew how I’ve revered this crucifix more as a work of art than as a symbol of faith. I hope God is with them.

#ra speaks #long post #personal #art #woodcarving #palestine #religion #christianity #I could make an essay about how western Christians treat ‘the holy land’ as this mythical cop out so they don’t acknowledge #israel or palestine or any of its history #but that’s not what this post is for. I’m reflecting and reminiscing and considering sending a message to their info email

[blakeswritingimagines]

Unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him

Summary: It was normal for most to have their string of fate be tied to their soulmate but what do you do when it's to the Prince of Dragonstone?

A/N: This is female pronouns but if you want male let me know because I tried to make this gender-free and it didn't flow like I wanted it to, also did I name this from something after Twilight? Yes.

Word Count: 2.8k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Jacaerys spent his early days in the warm embrace of his mother Rhaenyra, playing with his siblings and spending time with his father Laenor to learn the skills of how to rule and fight. He was taught what it meant to be Targaryen by his mother and he was taught to be loyal to those he loves and those who love him. He is a dragonlord and that is his heritage; He feels It is his destiny to rule the Iron Throne even as he tries his best to push back the thought of ever actually getting to meet you his soulmate in this life.

Jacaerys woke up earlier than usual and said a prayer at sunrise, getting ready for his busy day ahead of him, he then went to train with the sword for a short time even challenging his brother Lucerys once more, after a few hours he cleaned up before joining his family in the dining hall to eat. He joined in with the light conversation about how his day was going so far and what else he had planned which was just more lessons with the court teachers and some more sparring for a little bit, hearing that in a few days, a royal family would be coming to Dragonstone to show support towards Rhaenyra.

Continuing on with his daily plans over the next few days as he and his family awaited the latest arrival of your family so details could be worked out about the new relationship taking place, after a couple of more days passed by which felt like a blink of an eye which lead Jacaerys to stand outside standing beside his brothers and his mother on the other side of him. The Prince had been told that the family would be visiting it was expected that the proper courtesy for their arrival is done. He dressed himself in a fine doublet, a shirt, pants, and a cloak. His eyes were soft looking as he waited by the docks for your family to disembark from their ship. In his hand, he carried a gift. A book. It was titled 'The History of Valyria' and he thought it a worthy offering something to help understand more about Dragonstone and who your family was siding with.

He greeted every noble that approached him personally, making sure that everyone felt comfortable and welcome at Dragonstone. He was curious about the red string around the hand of one young person in particular. He had heard stories about such things and had not believed them until recently after learning about his mother and stepfather. Jacaerys felt a strange pull in his pinkie. It was like a voice was begging to be heard. He followed it and ended up face-to-face with his soulmate. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was so overwhelmed, he couldn’t even speak a word. Jacaerys just stood there, mouth open and staring for what felt like an eternity.

He offered his hand for you to take, knowing that there was a bond there that he could not ignore; there was a magic that seemed undeniable. He was curious to know who this young person was, your name, and the name of your House. You were again shushed by your older brother, especially after noticing the prince had walked up to you both, giving him a slight curtsy as you took his hand gently in your own using the hand that didn't have the string but simply held that one behind your back hiding it as you didn't think much about the tightening feeling around your finger again but smiled softly at the dark-eyed prince "Thank you for having me and my family my prince".

When you both held each other's hands, the red string around his own hand began to burn intensely as he felt it tighten around his finger. It was an undeniable feeling, one that neither of you could ignore. A strong, undeniable magic was at work here; he knew that this was not mere coincidence. There was something more at work here; perhaps the gods themselves? "It was a privilege and an honor to host you and your family, my lady. Your name?" He inquired. You bit down on your lower lip feeling the red string tighten around your finger which you had learned years ago from others meant you were very close to your soulmate but still didn't think it was the prince, keeping a sweet smile on your face as your hand stayed in his rough one not even having the thought that enough time had passed and it could be considered improper while than speaking up to answer him "I'm Y/n and this is my older brother Samuel it's a pleasure to meet you and know more about Dragonstone".

You continued to hold onto each other's hands for a long while as if you both were waiting for something. It was clear to Jacaerys in that very moment that there was something special about you, Y/n, which was his destiny. When he looked deeply into your eyes for the first time, his heart began to race and his pulse quickened. He knew he was experiencing something magical, something supernatural and beyond his understanding. He knew that this red string was a symbol that you were destined for each other; this was not a mere coincidence. This was magic. This was beyond your understanding of the natural world. This was love. He leaned in closer to you, noticing the red string around your finger. This felt like a sign from the gods; it was not natural, not ordinary, that you would share the same strange red string around one another, both sensing its tightening. It was not possible unless the gods wished it to be so. He smiled. "It is a pleasure as well, my lady. Do you enjoy your stay on Dragonstone so far?"

You finally looked away from his dark-colored eyes letting your eyes take in the beauty before you that was Dragonstone, nodding your head at his words smiling lightly that you could be here and experience such a new beauty then looked back to him as you spoke softly with a honey-smooth tone "It's very lovely my prince I'm happy to be here and see it for myself it's nothing like my home".

He raised his right hand and gently placed it on your cheek. It was an instinct born from a deep connection that he was sensing. The red string had led you to one another, and he could not help a natural inclination to touch her, to feel her warmth, to feel her beauty. The red string was a sign of destiny. He smiled at her, and he felt his heart beating faster. "Yes, you are truly fortunate. The island has a rich history and is the seat of our family and has been ever since our first king Aegon the Conqueror built his castle here. I am honored to live in such a grand and glorious place." He spoke while extending his arm offering you to take his hand to walk with him. "Shall I show you around?" He asked as if he couldn't wait to be alone with you especially to ask about the string around your own finger.

He smiles fondly and gives your hand a kiss, his expression soft and endearing. "I would be delighted to show you around. Dragonstone is large, there is much to see and I am sure you'd love it." He started to lead you down one of the numerous stone walkways which lead from the palace to various parts of the island. He would walk with you for hours, sharing all kinds of interesting anecdotes about Dragonstone and its rich history. At every opportunity, he would gently squeeze your hand, and in time his feelings toward you would begin to bloom.

Even as a few days passed by Jacaerys and you had become inseparable even with him meant to another woman who seemed kind and perfect for him, you were meant to leave in a few days but had been enjoying your time in Dragonstone and learning everything you could about it, walking alone along the shoreline taking in the quiet sound of the waves crashing as you stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes with a small smile on your face taking in the peace and tranquility of the moment that you couldn't be met with anywhere else in her life. Having met Jacaerys betrothed Baela and even congratulated them both on the engagement choosing to ignore your feelings and the fact you were in fact tied to the dark-haired male as his soulmate but kept your mouth shut and didn't speak a word about it to anyone since you didn't want to make a fuss or cause any problems for your newest friend who was already meant for someone else.

He could not stop thinking about you. He wondered why he couldn't get you out of his head, why were you so much on his mind. He was in a difficult position; he was supposed to marry Baela, and he did have feelings for Baela, but not the same kind of feelings that he had with you. He had never met a female so beautiful and he was having difficulty dealing with these conflicting emotions. This was a confusing situation, and he was unsure how best to move forward. It had been a few days since he had met you. Your encounter had stayed in his mind since then never having this effect on him before when he met almost anyone else; he could not help but think of you and wonder whether such a sudden and intense connection with someone he had just met was even possible. He couldn't help but think about how it felt when he had held your hand; there was an undeniable and magnetic connection between the two of you, something that was beyond normal or reasonable - but for some reason, it made perfect sense to him. He couldn't help but wonder whether you still thought of him as much as he thought of you.

You knew you were meant to be the perfect lady and have all the best manners which for the most part you had, but right at this moment before you had to be around people again and charm everyone as the great youngest in your family you willingly sat down in the sand throwing caution to the wind and didn't care if sand or water dirtied or ruined your dress as you simply crossed your arms and rested them against your knees as you stared out into the setting sun sky still listening to the calming sound of the waves even with a rumble from a dragon every once in a while you gently started toying with the red string on your finger wondering what your life would've been like if you both had met sooner. Jace had been sitting in his room, thinking of you and your soft eyes and gentle voice. He could not help but think of you and wonder what you were doing which caused problems during his duties. He glanced out of the window only to do a double take, and he saw you on the beach far away. His heart raced. A feeling of destiny came over him, and he felt the urge to go and see you. He got up and started to walk to you, and all his senses seemed to be leading him to you. He wanted to see you again, and he couldn't help but wonder if you felt the same way.

Feeling like you couldn't help but wonder what life would've been like knowing all it was going to do was hurt your feelings since you figured he was already engaged and you wouldn't be the one standing beside him, feeling disgruntled only to finally tear your eyes off the red string around your fingers choosing to willingly ignore the harsh tugging and stinging that just proved Jacaerys was around you as you stared out into the calming sea curious as to how life would play out for you now or who you would be with instead of your soulmate. The dark-haired prince approached you and sat down beside you. He leaned back, looking out over the waves with you. He turned to you watching you play with the red string around your fingers. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful you were in the sunlight. You were breathtaking, and there was a gentleness and calmness to your personality that made him like you all the more. He reached over and gently took your hand in his. "Can we talk?."

Exhaling as the longing hit harder than before once he took your hand in his own again before counting to four, slowly opening your eyes as you turned toward him slightly and smiled the best that you could then raised a brow as you tilted your head curiously as to what he could possibly need from you "Whatever about my prince?", Chossing to just keep things as normal as possible even if your eyes glanced down as saw the red string on you both but bit down on your lower lip not speaking a word about it. He gently placed his other hand under your chin and raised your face up so that he could look into your eyes. He felt you had the most beautiful soulful eyes that he had ever seen. They were like two pools of sunshine that made his heart beat faster. "Y/n. I think… I think we are meant to be together." He spoke softly, not wanting to startle you or say something that might cause you to run away. You were perfect, and he wanted to be with you. "You are my soulmate…"

You couldn't help but lean into his tender hold against your face as you looked into his dark brown eyes wondering if you would ever feel the same bliss by looking into anyone else's eyes, feeling your heart pound wildly in your chest at his words not saying anything back knowing your family wouldn't be pleased if you spoke and ruined anything for him or his family if you chose yourself over the good of the realm. Gently shaking your head as you slowly pulled away closing your eyes knowing the words he said were true but didn't know what to say other than letting him down which only caused you to clear your throat as you muttered "No, I don't believe so you are with Lady Baela she's your soulmate…not I."

He sat there stunned. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it was all a lie. Perhaps the red string was just a trick. But he knew the truth; he had felt it. You were his soulmate. He would not give up that easily. "Y/n…You are my soulmate. I can feel it just like I feel like your the breath in my lungs. I don't know how I know it, but I do. You can deny it all you want, but I know that it is true." He spoke softly, hoping you would come to see the truth as he saw it. You slowly looked over at him taking in every little thing about him even as silence took over conversation, feeling as if you were falling in love with him before you gave him a gentle smile as you shook your head knowing no matter how much it hurt you couldn't have him unless something deetrimental happened in your lives "Even so…It won't happen you must know that don't you?". Looking back out to the crashing waves as you played with the red string once more and spoke quietly "You know I used to dream about this moment, meeting my other half and falling in love being happy together….Not once did I ever believe it could hurt this much to meet you."

He was stunned by your words. You were supposed to be his destiny. You were supposed to be his soulmate. He could not give up that easily. If your fates were intertwined, something would happen that would bring you together. "I know I must marry Baela, there is no denying that. But I cannot deny that I have met my soulmate in you. You and I share something unique and special that has brought us together for a reason that neither of us can understand. Don't deny it. Please don't ignore the truth." How could he live knowing that he had met his soulmate and was unable to marry you? How could he live knowing that you wouldn't by his side? There was no world he could live in where you were not by his side. "Y/n, please. You cannot deny this feeling." He spoke softly to you. "You know it is true. If things were different, we would not be feeling this way." Why did your lives have to be this way? Why did fate want to separate you?

"We must find a way…"

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x you #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon

[bluekittyworld]

Still with YOU.

Hi! I have had this idea for a while, I am just trying to put into words for this fanfic.

Pairing: Devil Jimin x Human (f) Reader

Warning: 18+ (some chapters include smut and death)

Genre: Angst, Yandere, Smut (Fluff if you squint your eyes)

Please any feedback will be appreciated! Your words and likes motivate me to write more :)

Also please don't copy, or post/translate my work on other platforms, thank you.

Happy reading, and PLEASE give me feedback, tysm <3

Approx. 6 chapters, 14k words

Summary: Growing up, you didn't embrace religion as fervently as your grandmother did, but her deep faith often led her to take you to Sunday prayers. The Church is where you met a Priest named Jimin, you couldn't shake the strange attraction you felt towards him, a magnetic pull that seemed to defy reason.

Jimin takes you through each sin, corrupting your soul, in the end do you ultimately end up in hell?

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 [End]

At the tender age of four, you had an imaginary friend like many other children do. He was a comforting presence, older and wiser, and you cherished the time spent playing together in the backyard treehouse that had stood for years before your family moved in.

But as you grew older, the visits to the treehouse became less frequent, overshadowed by the weight of tragedy and loss. The untimely passing of your parents in a tragic car accident cast a pall over your once vibrant world, stealing away the joy and innocence you once knew.

In the wake of such devastating loss, even the simple pleasures of childhood seemed to lose their lustre, leaving you adrift in a sea of grief and sorrow. The treehouse, once a sanctuary of imagination and play, stood silent and forgotten, a poignant reminder of happier times now lost to the past.

You moved into a cottage where your grandmother lived after the incident, you were just 9 years old. The cottage was situated in a small village just a couple of minutes away from the church.

Growing up, you didn't embrace religion as fervently as your grandmother did, but her deep faith often led her to take you to Sunday prayers. Despite not having many friends your age in the countryside, where mostly retired individuals resided, you found solace in the companionship of your grandmother's friends.

Over the years, you formed close bonds with them, cherishing the warmth and love they showered upon you. Their affection filled a void in your life, offering a sense of belonging and acceptance that you had yearned for. Yet, amidst the love and care they provided, you couldn't shake the lingering feeling of longing, a desire for deeper connections and a sense of purpose that seemed to elude you, maybe because your parents left you so early?

As adulthood beckoned, you made the conscious choice to pursue your studies through online lectures, opting to remain close to your grandmother rather than venture onto a distant campus. Some might have labelled you as immature for your decision, but you knew that your grandmother was your only family, and her time with you was precious and limited.

The thought of leaving her side, even for the pursuit of higher education, filled you with a sense of dread and guilt. You couldn't bear the idea of being apart from her, especially knowing that her time on this earth was drawing to a close. In your heart, you knew that being by her side during her final days was the most important thing, and you were willing to sacrifice other opportunities to ensure that she was not alone.

As your grandmother's health declined, it became increasingly difficult for her to visit the church on her own. Recognizing the importance of her faith in her life, you took it upon yourself to accompany her to Sunday prayers each week.

With the arrival of a new young priest at the church, you couldn't help but notice a sudden surge in the number of elderly ladies attending the services. It amused you how the presence of a handsome man seemed to reignite their religious fervour.

Shaking your head in amusement, you guided your grandmother to her favourite spot in the front row, ensuring she was comfortable before taking a seat beside her. Despite the comical circumstances, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the community of faith that had become a source of comfort and solace for your grandmother.

“I am Jimin, and I will be reading the passage from the Bible today” the young priest introduced himself and a sense of familiarity washed over you. His smile, warm and genuine, seemed to pierce through the crowd, locking onto your gaze with an intensity that made you slightly uncomfortable.

Despite your unease, there was something about him that tugged at the edges of your memory, a nagging sense of recognition that you couldn't quite place. How could you feel like you knew him when you had never met him before?

As Jimin began to read from the Bible, his voice resonating through the hallowed space of the church, you couldn't shake the feeling of being drawn to him, as if there were some invisible thread connecting the two of you across time and space. It was a mystery that lingered in the recesses of your mind, waiting to be unravelled.

Lost in a trance-like state, you found yourself more captivated by Jimin's physical presence than the words he spoke. His flawless, almost golden complexion seemed to glow in the soft light of the church, accentuated by the pitch-black cascade of hair that framed his strikingly dark eyes.

Your gaze lingered on his plush, pink lips as they moved in rhythm with the words of the passage, each syllable rolling off his tongue with a mesmerizing cadence. The sight of his Adam's apple bobbing with each word only added to the allure, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame.

It was as if time had slowed to a crawl, the world around you fading into insignificance as you became lost in the ethereal beauty of this enigmatic man before you. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the intoxicating pull of his presence, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume all reason and restraint.

Feeling the weight of Jimin's gaze upon you, you were jolted out of your reverie by the sound of his throat clearing. Heat flooded your cheeks as embarrassment washed over you, realizing that he had caught you staring.

Quickly averting your gaze, you focused intently on your hands, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you tried to regain your composure. Determined not to get caught in his gaze again, you kept your eyes firmly fixed on your lap, refusing to let yourself be distracted by the captivating presence of the young priest.

As Jimin continued to read from the Bible, the words washing over you in a blur, you silently resolved to maintain your focus and avoid any further embarrassment. After all, you couldn't afford to let yourself get caught in his spell again, no matter how tempting it may be.

As Jimin made his rounds, handing out toffees to each granny with a considerate and sweet demeanour, you couldn't help but admire his thoughtfulness. It was clear that he knew how to brighten their day with such simple gestures of kindness.

When he finally reached you, his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary as he held onto your hand. Startled, you looked up to meet his gaze, only to find him squeezing your hand with a playful smirk playing on his lips. Confusion swept over you like a tidal wave, leaving you to wonder if perhaps there was more to his actions than met the eye. It certainly didn't feel like your imagination running wild.

Lying in bed that night, thoughts of Jimin lingered in your mind, his actions replaying over and over again like a broken record. Despite your best efforts to push them aside, you couldn't shake the strange attraction you felt towards him, a magnetic pull that seemed to defy reason.

You scolded yourself for harbouring such feelings towards a man of the cloth, reminding yourself of Jimin's role as a priest—a figure of reverence and devotion, not someone to be viewed through the lens of attraction.

Yet, try as you might to suppress those forbidden thoughts, they continued to bubble up to the surface, refusing to be ignored. In the quiet solitude of your room, you found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between the dictates of reason and the undeniable allure of desire. It was a battle you knew you couldn't afford to lose, but one that seemed to grow more challenging with each passing moment.

The following morning you woke up just past the afternoon, you felt a little lazy today oddly, normally you were always energetic and an early bird.

You heard your grandmother talking to someone, a male to be specific. Confused by the unfamiliar voice, you decided to investigate, not particularly concerned about your appearance. After all, your pyjamas were decent enough, and you quickly tied your hair into a messy bun before heading out of your room to see who it was.

Jimin was sat there having tea with your grandmother, you never regretted a decision so much before, you wished you had put a bit more effort into your appearance.

“Good afternoon _____” Jimin smiled and showed his pearly whites.

Did he really have to acknowledge your presence you thought.

Feeling too embarrassed to say anything, you meekly smiled back.

Jimin nodded “Your grandmother makes lovely tea, come join us.”

He patted the seat next to him, as soon as you were about to make an excuse…

“Yes, dear sit down, I brought your cup already” you grandmother said.

Jimin patted the seat next to him again, you awkwardly sat down, you felt a bit too warm being so close to him.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed around you, you found yourself lost in thought, quietly sipping on your tea as your mind wandered once more to Jimin. Despite the reverent atmosphere of the room and the presence of the holy man beside you, your thoughts strayed to decidedly less holy territory.

In your peripheral vision, you caught glimpses of Jimin, sitting beside the esteemed figure with an air of casual confidence that only seemed to enhance his allure. Despite your best efforts to remain focused on the conversation at hand, your mind couldn't help but drift to the image of him, a tantalizing presence that stirred something primal within you.

As you sipped on your tea, the warmth of the liquid failing to dispel the heat that suffused your cheeks, you couldn't help but entertain the not-so-holy thoughts that danced through your mind, fuelled by the magnetic pull of Jimin's presence

You finished your cup of tea, setting it down with a delicate clink. Summoning up the courage, you stole a quick glance at Jimin, only to find him already looking at you, that infuriating smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

For a moment, you entertained the idea of smacking that smirk right off his face. But then you realized, with a sinking feeling, that he seemed to have a knack for reading your thoughts. Or at least, you hoped not.

Finally you excused yourself, and went back to your room. At last you felt a bit cooler and those unholy thoughts calmed down a little.

Later that evening your grandmother said that she promised Father Park that you would help him with church duties. Who even was he? You thought to yourself.

“Who is Father Park?” you asked.

“Jimin, his full name is Park Jimin” your grandmother replied with a smile.

“Park Jimin” you whispered; even his name was as beautiful as him.

Then it suddenly hit you that your grandmother volunteered you to help him out, you felt so uneasy around him because of your own mind.

“Do I really have to help him?” you pouted.

“______, sweetie, it’s good to help others and you needed some sort of volunteering for your scholarship application, this is a great opportunity for that too” she replied.

She did have a point, so you just thought to give it a go for now, you could always quit later, right?

As Friday dawned, anticipation hummed in the air, a tangible excitement flowing through your veins as you made your way towards the church. With each step, you rehearsed the words in your mind, preparing to greet Jimin—Father Park—with the proper respect and deference befitting his position.

"Hi, Father Park," you whispered to yourself, the words rolling off your tongue in practiced cadence, each syllable infused with a sense of reverence and warmth.

As you neared the church, your heart quickened with anticipation, the echo of your rehearsed greeting ringing in your ears like a silent mantra. And as you stepped through the threshold, ready to embark on another day of volunteering alongside Jimin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you, eager to see what the evening would bring in the presence of the enigmatic Father Park.

He was expecting you and was waiting just by the door.

As you approached the church, you couldn't contain your excitement and blurted out, "Hi Jimin!" Instantly, you mentally scolded yourself for not sticking to your rehearsed greeting.

Jimin's smirk only deepened, teasing you with his playful demeanour. "Hi _____," he replied, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Someone seems excited. Come to the back; we have a lot of scrolls to arrange by dates." His smile was infectious, melting away your annoyance and replacing it with a warmth that spread through your chest. With a flutter of anticipation, you followed him eagerly, eager to spend the day by his side once more.

As Jimin guided you through the corridors of the church, a familiar warmth enveloped you once more, causing a light sheen of perspiration to form along your hairline. Despite the coolness of the surroundings, the intensity of his presence seemed to ignite a fire within you, sending waves of heat rippling through your body.

When you reached the small room, well it wasn’t exactly small, but the large boxes placed around left little room to manoeuvre. As you surveyed the cluttered space, Jimin's sudden touch on your arms sent a jolt of surprise coursing through you, causing you to freeze in place.

“Umm… what are you-” you said.

“You look like you’re feeling really warm so I thought you might want to take off your jacket” he cut you off, was his voice always this attractive?

You took a step away from him, and took off your jacket, he held his hand out indicating you to give it to him, he hung it neatly on the hook behind the door.

As Jimin explained the task at hand, gesturing towards the box of scrolls with an air of casual confidence, your attention wavered, drawn inexorably to the sight of his hands—those elegant, mesmerising hands that seemed to possess a grace all their own. Despite your best efforts to focus on his words, your gaze remained fixated on the subtle movements of his fingers as they gestured and emphasized various points.

Nodding absentmindedly in response to his instructions, you found yourself lost in a haze of fascination, utterly captivated by the sight before you. Surely, arranging scrolls by date order couldn't be so difficult, not when Jimin's hands were there to guide you, effortlessly navigating through the task with a skill that bordered on the sublime.

You were now arranging the scrolls. The cool, aged parchment felt delicate beneath your fingertips as you carefully laid them out on the expansive wooden table before you.

The musty scent of history lingered in the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of incense, creating an atmosphere of reverence and tranquillity as you worked, you arranged them in a meticulous order.

“_____” Jimin spoke.

“Mhm?” you replied, trying to concentrate on the scrolls and not him.

“How was your childhood?” he asked.

What a random thing to ask you thought.

“It was okay, my parents passed away when I was nine years old” you replied.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but before that when you were younger, did you have many friends? Imaginary friends like some people say, even though they might be real.” He said mindlessly.

You stopped arranging the scrolls and looked at him, that is such an oddly specific question.

He chuckled, “Sorry you don’t have to answer it.”

“I did have 2 friends, and I think I had an imaginary friend too, I don’t really remember much, my memories are all mixed up from the trauma of losing my parents.” You replied a little emotionally. Jimin looked into your eyes, his gaze softened a bit, he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and patted your head… what was that for, it’s not like you’re five, you’re a grown woman, you thought.

As you returned home after your volunteering session, a sense of contentment washed over you. Surprisingly, the experience hadn't been as bad as you had initially feared; in fact, you found yourself considering the possibility of returning again. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reflected on the past two hours, realising that you had actually enjoyed spending time at the church, particularly in Jimin's company.

Throughout the week, you found yourself eagerly anticipating your next encounter with him. There was something about him that made you feel at ease, something that drew you to him like a moth to a flame. You found solace in sharing your stories with him, comforted by his attentive ear and understanding demeanour.

Unbeknownst to you, however, your growing affection for Jimin was leading you deeper into his web of deceit. Little did you realize the true nature of his intentions, or the dangerous game he was playing. As the days passed and your feelings for him intensified, you remained oblivious to the lurking shadows that threatened to consume you whole.

Chapter 2

Masterlist

A/N: how was it? :) the next chapter will contain smut, only read if you're 18+

#jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin x oc #park jimin #superntural #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #bts jimin #bts #rm #jin #suga #jhope #taehyung #jungkook #jimin yandere #yandere #jimin devil #bluekittyworld