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shaguro · 23 days

Note

I HOPE NOBODY REQUESTED THIS. needy geto :)) he’s a whiner, he begs, he’s so hard that it hurts - i hope this was good 🥹🙏🏾

synposis: you use geto’s unusual, needy mood to your advantage.

ੈ✩‧₊˚tags: needy whiney geto! (with a soft dom!fem reader. p in v, riding, choking (geto receiving), dirty talk, creampies, pet names used (mama, baby and good boy) slightt overstim but not really. — wc: 1.5k

an: i actually like this one fr. hope u enjoy it mirahhh 🩷

“fuck, i . . . i need you so bad, mama. stop t-teasin’ me.”

you don’t know what’s gotten into your boyfriend but by no means are you complaining. a sight this rare, you wish it could last forever if possible — geto completely at your mercy, a stuttering mess as you arch over his lap, a dainty hand on his thick base as you stroke him tantalizingly slow, dragging his angry tip along your puffy folds, just missing your entrance.

“aww, need me bad, huh?” you coo, purely teasing. your free hand reaches for his cheek, the pad of your thumb resting on his plush bottom lip. “i’ll give you what you want, if you say please.”

this is definitely geto’s karma.

a taste of his own medicine. all the times he’d tease you, edge you till you were on the brink of tears? they’re coming back to bite him right in the ass. really, he couldn’t be mad. not when he’s so hard it fucking hurts — maybe you’d see just how desperate he is, go a little easy on him, even though geto knows he’s undeserving of such humility.

and with that deceivingly sweet smile on your face? geto knows you’re gonna give him hell.

“couldn’t wait for the opportunity to g-get back at me . . . you’re really enjoyin’ this, huh?” he murmurs, rolling his eyes when you respond with a quick yes. his hands are on your hips now, idly rubbing circles into the soft skin. he knows better than to move without permission because if you’re anything like him, you’ll make him suffer longer.

he mutters out a “. . . please.” so low and meek, you almost didn’t catch it.

clicking your tongue, you lean forward slightly — just enough to align his leaky tip with your hole. “now, suguru . . . you can do better than that.” and that’s when he feels it — warm, gummy walls suddenly mold around his aching length, so perfectly that geto sucks in a sharp breath, tilts his head back onto the headboard. god, he’s been waiting for this all day.

you sink down slowly, biting your lip as you adjust to the stinging stretch of his dick. so insanely thick and long, it takes a few long minutes before he completely bottoms out, inch after inch until you’re stuffed full.

geto quirks a brow, his breaths short and uneven as he studies your pretty face intently. “why . . . why’d you stop?”

you simper, your palms planted firmly on his pecs to steady yourself. “told you, baby. you can do better and ‘m not moving till you say it right.” giggling at his annoyed, flushed expression, you tilt your head to the side all innocent, waiting and watching. “say pretty please.”

just impatient, geto kisses his teeth, biting back a moan as his eyes land on where your bodies connect, the lewd view of his cock sheathed so comfortably in your cunt. he wants, no, needs more and at this point, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

even if that means he has to beg.

“i want you to fuck me, want you so bad right now, mama . . want you to make me feel good, pretty please?”

just what you wanted to hear.

“good boy.” your honeyed praise had his dick pulsing inside you, brick as ever. wholly satisfied, you lift your hips a fraction before slamming them back down suddenly and geto whines — trimmed fingernails dig crescents into your love handles as you repeat that motion, again and again.

once you get a good groove, the pace you set is steady, sensual — manicured nails anchored into his toned pectorals leave red cat-like marks on the smooh skin as you let out your own sweet moans, mending with the addicting melody of your plush ass clapping on his thighs with each calculated bounce and geto is losing the little sanity he has left.

and, as hard as he tries, he can’t swallow the pretty, broken sounds you’re eliciting from his throat. “fuck, mama. fuckk,” his mouth is stretched in the shape of an “o” and glistening pupils, blown wide are staring up at you through thick, black eyelashes. stray, shiny hairs stick to his sweaty forehead. a few shiny beads trickle from his temple, down the side of his sharp jaw when he mutters a raspy, “ngh-uh, don’t stop, please.”

who would’ve known that suguru geto was such a needy whore?

“love the way this pussy feels, huh?” you pant out, a smug smile stretched from each end of your face, cheek to cheek. he gives a half nod, too fucked out to remember his manners. suguru’s eyes are too focused on your bouncing tits, ricocheting off your ribcage as your hips gyrate, round n round in rhythmic circles — a sight so obscene, he’s convinced you’re heaven-sent, an angel of some sort. “tell me, baby. let me hear you.”

no . . . you’re more like a demon, that’s what you are.

suguru does, indeed, love the way your pussy feels. you’re wicked to think he could even voice such thoughts while you’re literally fucking the shit out of him. so wicked, downright foul. no fair, no fair.

“i said,” snapping him out his reverie, you lean down — hand rising to cup his cheeks between your thumb and other fingers, his lips puff and purse. “tell me how much you love this pussy.”

that’s when you do something new. moving from his face to his neck, your hand curls around the column of his throat, right over his adam’s apple. glassy obsidians filt to your face, widening as that hand squeezes snug against his windpipe and suguru inhales deeply, you feel the lift and expand of his lungs under your palm, the vibration rattling your fingers when suguru finally exhales a strained moan that physically hurt to hold.

to suguru’s surprise, he doesn’t paint your insides white with cum.

“i love-“ he gasps when the pressure on his neck intensifies, vision blurred and speckled with twinkly stars. “i love this p-pussy, so so-“ another inhale, exhale as he breathes out “muchhh.”

“i know baby, i know.” you knew that he’s close, too. a telltale sign, it’s as though his cock swelled in size and god, did it feel fucking good — dragging along the grooves of your inner walls, throbbing and throbbing, with every single drop of your hips, his balls smack dead on your globes — dripping with your milky cream, tight and full with the kids you desperately wanted him to gift you. “gonna cum for me? gonna fill this pussy up, mm?”

“yes, yes, yes,” dribble forms on the corner of his lips, he doesn’t bother to wipe it as he incessantly babbles, “gonna be g-good for you, fuuuck, feels so fucking good, baby, need it, need you, please-“

his breath hitches in his throat when the bed shifts, the mattress dipping under your weight as you plant your feet into the soft memory foam. you bounce, bounce, bounce until you adjust to the new, deep angle this position provided. just like suguru, you feel your own orgasm building. fighting the urge to roll your eyes back into the depths of your skull, you divert your attention back to suguru who’s staring at you dazedly, mouth agape.

he is so, so pretty like this.

“s’pretty under me like this, suguru.” you voice your thoughts in a salacious purr, a pretty smile curls on your lips. “doing so good f’me.”

shaky hands find themselves beneath the curve of your ass and suguru’s legs move into a bend, lifting you slightly so he can match your rhythm, the movement smooth and fluid from how wet you are. “mm, shit.” suguru’s head tilts back into cushiony pillows, eyes screwed shut. heat bubbles in his stomach, tingling through his bones. it’s coming. “don’t think ‘m gonna l-last, mama.” he’s almost distracted by the filthy sound of your cunny, singing a tune akin to gooey macaroni. “c-can’t hold it, g-god.”

“then don’t.”

suguru’s toes flex and twitch, muscles in his thighs jumping simultaneously.

“already told you to fill me up, right? d-do it, don’t hold back.”

fuck, fuck, fuck.

“s’your pussy, sugu . . . all yours. so take what’s yours.”

fuck!

with a long, pitchy groan, suguru’s back arches, whole body wracked with quivers and tremors as he shoots his heavy thick load deep inside your awaiting cunt and you don’t stop moving, no — in fact, you grind harder, milking every last drop of cum from his balls. that’s what brings you to your end, the warmth spreading deep within your tummy as you cry out your boyfriends name — a sticky gush flowing down his glistening length, uncontrollable as you ride out your high.

there’s a mess between your bodies, a nasty mix of fluids on thighs, stomachs, all over the bed beneath you. albeit, neither of you care, electing to lay in the mess you’ve created, a tangle of sore, weak limbs.

you let out a soft hiss as you pull off suguru’s softening cock, shakily resting your weight atop him. one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your fingertips skim across the surface of his chest, right over his heart, the beat of it a slow, soothing drum. with suguru’s cheek on your forehead, his eyes settle on the ceiling, lids heavy as sleep calls him.

suguru decides he’ll let you take control more often.

@screampied @preciousamethyst since yall wanted a tagggg

#geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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bunnybunbun0 · 1 month

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renaissance

summary: because Paul Atreides was a piece of art in bed.

pairing: Paul Atreides X fem!reader

warnings: smut,porn without plot,

A/N: with the hype of dune part two being released i finally got my shit together and watvhed part one years later and oh.my.god. Seeing timmy play a serious important yet loving duke just rocked me a bit. i hope you guys like this!

sorry its short i wasnt planning on writing it,it just came t mind.not proofread,we die like real man. english is not my first language so be kind!

you are responsible for your own media comsumption! :)

credits to gif owner!

Paul Atreides was undoubtly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

And after stumbling upon a book on what ancient civilizations considered art,you were even more convinced he was god´s most wonderful creation.

When he pants on top of you while fiercifully thrusting into your soaked slit,his black curls clinging to his pale skin with a sheer of sweat;a beautiful contrast with his dark hair and white skin.

The sounds leaving the back of his throat are a sweet melody to your ears; the gutural grunts,the ocasional moan,the pants of your name,the filthy things he whispers in your ears.

You were fully convinced paul was the most beautiful work of art youve ever seen,he was ethereal,every trace of his was brushstroke,you lost yourself staring into the honey galaxies of his eyes.

"What are you thinking about that is more important than my cock inside you right now?"

His dirty question gets you out of your head;a long whimper scaped you at how dirty his words were,you tried your best to focus on answering his question,but between his cocktip brushing your sweet spot so deliciously,the force of his hips meeting yours,and the sinful noises that filled the room,all you could do in response was moan and whine.

He lowers his head to your neck,sucking and biting the sensitive pristine skin;you shiver at the thought of being marked by his beautiful lips,having him set a clam on you.

"Answer me" he asks in a grave tone,a shiver rippling through you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You´re beautiful!" you blabber out in a high pitched moan,not even realizing how desperate you sound or how you´re not making any sense to him right now "you´re beautiful! fuck paul,you´re so beautiful"

To say that was not what Pauls was expecting to hear was an understatement,he knew you appreciated his looks;it was clear with your lingering touches on him or how youd be amazedly watching him while he did the most mundane of tasks,but not that you liked it enough to declare it so devotedely while he was deep inside you.

He knew your body better than anyone else,and he could sense you were on the brink of an orgasm,his hand reached down rubbing sensual circles around your clit,not once slowing down his thrusts.

You unravel around him yelping and crying out as your release washed over you,your eyes shut feeling the moment where you and him become one.

A few more faltered thrusts into your now even tighter pussy,and paul was cumming inside you with a string of profanities leaving his mouth accompanied with your name.

You both stare at each for what feels like forever,breathing deeply while coming down from your highs.

Paul was a completely different person once the sexual aact was over,the kiss he pressed on your lips right now was not desperate and hurried,it was calm,soft,he treated you like the wind blow you away into a pile of sand.

He slips out of you carefully,making sure youre okay,carefully enveloping you in his arms and throwing a blanket around both their naked bodies;a confortable silence falls into the room as thetwo of you cuddle,paul lovingly stroking your arms,ocasionally kissing whatever naked skin he could get his lips on.

"You really think i´m that good looking?" he asks with the memory of you moaning out how beautiful he was mid sex stuck in his mind.

In your post orgasm clarity your mind goes back to the beautiful paintings you found on the ancient book,the delicacy of the lines,the softness of the colors and beautiful tragedies behind every piece. The sudden desire to once again tell paul how beautiful he is and make sure to know your ancient knowledge with him are overwhelming.

You sit up in the bed looking up at his face,a smile immediately meeting your lips as you look at him and decide to ask:

"Have you ever heard of Michelangelo?"

#dune #dune x reader #dune x you #paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x fem!reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet characters #timothee chalamet x reader #paul atreides smut

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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The Guilt (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader)

Description: Y/n was the one person he never meant to kill, but Alastor didn't have a choice. Years later, much to his surprise, they run into one another in the depths of Pentagram City.

Warnings: Murder, cannibalism mentioned in a metaphoric sense. Un-detailed descriptions of rotting bodies.

Word Count: 2,701

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I just wanted to write something that has been stuck in my head for a hot minute since I've like only been doing requests the past couple days. I think the only ones I have left are ones that have been sent in since February 15th so I hope that is okay.

Alastor recognized her the minute he first saw her. It had been a year since his arrival in Hell and he was already making waves. Demons avoided him on the streets, shot him fearful glances over their shoulders. He enjoyed the privacy it afforded him, the padding of air around him.

He didn't pay the others mind, focused on his own goals and patterns of being. Friends, relationships, they were far from his top priority but still, Alastor recognized her the minute he first saw her.

In his years of blood soaked escapades in the world of the living, he had wreaked havoc on the world. In all those years, he had only ever made two mistakes. The first had been getting caught, getting killed by that hunter. The second? Had been killing that girl.

He hadn't had a choice. Normally, Alastor chose his victims carefully following a specific criteria. She had been an accident. He had gotten careless one night, cocky even in his streak of successes. Alastor had been transfixed, carving a man's intestines from the cavity of his stomach. The girl had had wide eyes, her mouth open. She had trembled.

Their eyes had met across the darkened street. She had clutched at her coat, pulling it tighter. She hadn't even tried to run.

Alastor never learned her name, avoided all reports on her disappearance and death like the plague. She haunted him. He saw her around corners, when he shut his eyes at night like a vengeful spirit. Always just staring at him with those big, knowing eyes. He didn't need more reminders, more facets of feeling, than he already had.

Alastor had recognized her the minute he first laid eyes on her in Hell. It had taken him a moment to realize she was real, she still looked so deeply human after all. He had never expected her to be here. He had never expected to see her again.

When he opened his eyes and she was still there, sitting placidly at the cafe table, it was like some uncontrollable force pulled him to her. He pulled out the spare chair, falling lazily into it. She looked up at the noise of metal against concrete, curiosity painting her features as she lowered her book onto the table.

"Hello?" she said after a moment, though it was more of a question than a greeting.

Alastor had never heard her voice before except for when she had screamed. It was melodious, it was soft and sweet. His smile grew.

"Yes, hello indeed."

She stared at him with those eyes, those same eyes that had haunted him for years.

"My apologies but, who are you? Do I know you?"

He was unable to keep the surprise from his features. It had been a long time since anyone had asked him something like that, he couldn't tell if she was joking. But then there were those wide eyes, earnest in their honesty.

"No, my apologies. I did not introduce myself. My name is Alastor, quite the pleasure to meet you. Quiet the pleasure."

He grabbed her hand from where it lay daintily across her open book, shaking it in his own.

"Oh!" Y/n lightly exclaimed in response to the action, "Oh, well, Alastor, I am Y/n. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well."

The contact broke and Alastor leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands.

"Forgive me for saying this but, you seem a bit unsuited for all this mess. Prim and proper. What landed you here?"

"Is that why you've come to join me?"

Alastor nodded after a second's thought. It was an easy cover up for his true motives. Y/n seemed to have no idea who he was after all and to be perfectly honest, even Alastor himself was struggling to understand his motivations. Guilt wasn't an emotion he was familiar with. It was confusing, writhed in the pit of his stomach like a snake.

"Well, thats a rather personal question to ask someone right off the bat, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right. How about this one then, what are you reading?"

After that day at the cafe, Alastor followed Y/n like a hurt puppy. He didn't rightly know why. It was a compulsion of a sort, he couldn't stop it. She was disinterested by radio, by the newfangled video boxes popping up. She knew nothing of his reputation, she just thought he was a friend. A fairly determined friend, but a friend none the less.

Alastor didn't understand it. He was a man obsessed, not with Y/n per say but with the opportunity she offered. She smelled like making good on past wrongs. That wasn't something Alastor had ever been interested in before. Y/n was the exception. She was always the exception, he supposed.

It wasn't long before their little lunches, their random rendezvous in the streets, carefully orchestrated by Alastor of course, not that she knew, became something more. Spending time with her calmed the raging sea of uncertainty in his gut. Being kind to her felt like salvation.

Alastor had never been concerned with that before, but it was such an intoxicating thing to hear her words of thanks, of praise. To witness her smiles and her apparently unending kindness. They would spend hours pouring over one another's collections of books. They would spend hours in deep philosophic discussion. It was Y/n who first brought up their previous lives.

"Do you ever miss it?" she had asked when they had been making lunch together one day in her apartment.

Alastor's hand had stilled, his knife halfway through the cut of veal he had been handeling.

"Miss what, my dear?"

"Life."

He began to move the knife again, letting out a slight hum of thought.

"Not particularly. I take it you do?"

Y/n leaned over the pot, checking to see if the water was boiling yet for the potatoes. It wasn't and so she turned to him, leaning up against the counter.

"Sometimes." she admitted.

Alastor turned to her as well. The apron over her dress was stained with jam from the times they had baked together just a few days before. Y/n hair was tied up and away from her face. He felt his heart stutter in his chest.

That had been happening a lot lately when he looked at her. Alastor figured it was a progression of guilt, a giving away of it. He figured spending time with Y/n was helping it go away.

It wasn't like it was a burden for him. They actually had a surprising amount in common.

"What do you miss?"

"My mom."

And there it was again, the cannibalistic sickness eating away at his brain.

"Were you two close?"

Y/n nodded, turning her gaze to the window.

"Yeah. She... I didn't have a big family. Or a lot of friends growing up. I was shy, painfully shy. She was... she was all I had. And now she's alone up there."

"What landed you down here?"

Y/n looked back to Alastor, smirking.

"Back to this are we? Only took what, six months?"

"We're friends now, aren't we?"

"Alastor..."

"Shoot me, I'm curious."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"Okay, I tell you, you tell me. Deal?"

Alastor thought it over for a moment. He could always lie to her, make up some story or another but, she was bound to find out eventually. More than anything, he wanted to keep her from connecting the pieces. Y/n figuring things out felt dangerous, it pained him to think about how she would react.

"Deal."

"Okay, um," Y/n looked away again, her hands fiddling with the frilled edge of her apron, "I don't really like to talk about it. It's kind of embarrassing."

"You made a deal."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"So spill."

Y/n smiled lightly, meeting Alastor's eyes for a second.

"Well, I was kind of... maybe... sort of... a thief?"

"Really?"

Alastor hadn't expected that. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to be honest but, it wasn't that.

"Yeah. Times were... tough growing up. Single mom with a kid in the early 1900s? Not everyone was a fan. It was hard for her to find work so I would... supplement. No one suspected the little girl, you know?"

There were two types of demons in Hell. There were the ones that had their demon forms, and then there were the ones like Alastor with more than one form, more abilities, more strength. It was the anger that fed it, the person they were on earth. Alastor had always assumed Y/n fell into the first category but, as she relayed her tale to him, her body began to change. She rotted before his very eyes, becoming a standing corpse with his bones all showing.

"I always felt awful about it but, we didn't really have a choice. You know? I didn't want to do it, didn't like it, but I did it and I was good at it. When I grew up, well, sometimes it is just easier to stick to what you know. I worked for a cleaning service, maids for hire, working parties, stuff like that. I, well, the people I worked for were rich. They didn't need the money but my mother and I certainly did."

It was then she seemed to realize her own changed appearance. Her eyes shot up to Alastor as she retook her original form.

"Sorry about that." she awkwardly laughed, "Guess the guilt is still eating me alive, even in death. So, what'd you do?"

Alastor took a breath, appraising the situation. The guilt, the sense of having truly sinned.

"I was a serial killer."

Y/n's eyes went wide.

"Really? You? But you're so..."

"So what, my dear?"

"So nice."

Alastor stilled.

"Nice?" he repeated.

Even in life, it was a word that few had directed towards him. Polite, yes. Talented, yes. Charming? Of course, but never nice.

At the sound of bubbling from the pot, Y/n turned his back to him.

"Yeah." she shrugged, opening the lid and dropping the potatoes in, "You probably one of the nicest people I've ever met."

The way Y/n saw him was intoxicating. Nice. He began to spend more and more time at her side. It was hard to keep the other half of his life from her but, he managed. It was a delicate balance, a game he knew well.

It was a day about a year later that Y/n approached him, blushing and unable to meet his eyes. It was a year later she told him how she felt and he realized he felt the same. They moved in together, did nearly everything together. It was a happy afterlife for them both. The first time they had kissed, she had tasted like redemption.

Y/n never questioned what Alastor did on his late nights out alone. She trusted his fidelity and when he said he liked going for walks alone in the evening air, she accepted it. When he said he was at work, broadcasting his radio show, she never asked why they didn't have a radio of their own. It was an unspoken agreement, he didn't ask where the money came from and she didn't ask what he did in the long hours he was away.

The guilt felt heavy in the pit of his stomach, growing stronger every day but still, Y/n remained blissfully ignorant. Alastor could practically hear the clock ticking. Every kiss felt like it might be the last, every caress, every meal shared at the kitchen table. He did everything he could, but knew one day she was bound to find out.

Alastor knew the day had come when he entered their lovely home on the outskirts of the Pride ring. He called his usual hello out into the house from the foyer, letting the door fall shut behind him. Y/n didn't come.

"Y/n?" he called, taking a step further into the house, "Are you home?"

All the lights were on. That was something she was careful about from the old days, making sure not to use electricity unless necessary. There was no way she wasn't in the house.

Tentatively, he stepped into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, her head in her hands.

"Are you alright, my love?"

It was then he noticed the radio on the table.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Y/n sighed, looking up at him, "Oh."

"Where did you get that?"

"Someone dropped it off, left it at the door. I thought it was you originally but, now I'm not so sure."

Someone had left it for her? One of Alastor's numerous enemies was responsible no doubt. He had always been so careful to keep her protected, out of the public eye. It didn't make sense.

"You heard todays broadcast?"

"Oh you mean the screams of innocent demons mixed in with your stories about New Orleans?"

Alastor was silent. Y/n's eyes were rimmed with red, her hair a mess.

"They were far from innocent. Everyone is down here for a reason. Besides, I told you. I'm a killer."

"You didn't tell me you were my killer."

His heart stopped. He hadn't realized exactly how much she'd managed to piece together from the simple broadcast.

"Am I now?" Alastor asked placidly, trying to remain calm as he clasped his hands behind his back.

He didn't know what he was playing at. He was grasping at straws. Y/n got to her feet.

"You never told me you were from New Orleans, just said you grew up in the south. I let it slide but, I shouldn't have. I should have known, the similarities in our experiences... god, I was such a fool! I should have known we grew from the same patch of dirt. Alastor, there was only one serial killer active in the city at the time we were both alive, at the time I died."

"And you think it was me, my heart?"

"Alastor." she crossed her arms.

"I..."

"How could you not tell me?"

Y/n's anger mixed with grief, it misdirected itself, it got caught on the details. It hurt more that he'd been lying to her. The act itself was something to be dealt with later. Now was the time for the lies. They had spent years together, built a life together and the whole time, he had been lying.

"I didn't me-"

"Mean for me to find out?"

"Well, yes." he took a step forward, he tried to grab her hands but she pulled them away.

Y/n's skin was rotting now, she was taking on her other form. It was the first time he'd seen her do it when not remising about the past or telling stories about her mother. He had no idea what she was capable of when in this state.

"But also, I didn't mean to-"

"To what, to kill me? To marry me? To make me fucking trust you?"

"I..."

The world was falling down around him. The one thing he couldn't lose, the one thing he cared about besides himself or his power. The person that meant the most to him.

"My darling, my heart, m-"

"No, Alastor. Just... just stop." she sighed, a hand to her forehead.

She rubbed her temples, exhausted and overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry."

The words were spoken softly but they crashed into Y/n like a speeding truck. They broke her ribs. She lowered her hand.

"I... I need some time."

"No, Y/n, wait. Please."

Again, she brushed off his attempts to hold her, making her way to the door of the kitchen. Alastor followed her out into the hallway.

"Y/n. Please. Please don't leave."

"What, so you can keep up your pity project?" she scoffed, rounding on him, "I am better than that Alastor. I deserve better."

"It... you aren't a pity project. You're my world, I love you."

"No, your world is this city. Your world is running Hell. I... Alastor, I'm leaving."

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scudslut · 2 months

Text

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

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archonsabyss · 3 months

Text

╰─..✶. [ Constellation of love ]

❒ pairing : zayne x fem!reader

❒ genre : romance! established relationship! hint of spice! minor angst w comfort!

❒ warnings : sexually suggestive! zayne is not the most expressive when it comes to sharing thoughts or feelings about himself (this does not apply to displays of physical affection, affirmation, your relationship on the whole)

❒ word count : 4.1k

─❒ authors note : ironic how caleb was my inspiration and driving force to write for Love and Deepspace, only for my first fic to be about zayne. this was inspired by the song "I'm Yours" -the script

His shift had ended over an hour ago, yet he remained ensconced within the unadorned walls of his mundane enclosure as the hands of the wall clock kept pace with his thudding heart. Apart from that, there was a serene stillness.

It fascinated him to an extent how this silence created room for such intense thoughts that he could almost hear his anxiety of longing; that he could almost see the reflective daze of enamorment flickering in his eyes as he looked through the expansive window, not perceiving a city nor the alignment of lights stretching across the earth, but envisioning your face and that incredibly bewitching smile.

Carved into his recollections were the smallest of details of your features— the asymmetrical dance of your smile where one lip ascended slightly higher; the delicate lines adorning your nose with its subtle scrunch; and the way your eyes neither exaggeratedly rounded nor formed tiny creases.

It was a sight he so dearly missed, but even with that profound sense of longing he still could not find the courage to retrieve his phone, dial your number, and confess the sentiment aloud. The mere contemplation of it brought about a dainty blush to the apples of his cheeks, a sensation almost bordering on embarrassment and so he closed his eyes and tried to vividly recreate your portrait from memory, only he soon realised the futility as it could never truly rival the sight of you in person. Still, he persisted because he wished nothing more than to see your broad smile with his own eyes and revel in the melody of your joyous laughter.

It takes him a lot longer than he would have preferred but eventually a blurred image manages to take shape and although it's somewhat hazy and not immediately discernable, he can well enough capture the essence of what's unfolding.

He sees the dance of your fingers sliding across his palm and intertwining with his, just before you pull him through the crowds with energy he can't quite relate to. You cast him a few glances now and then to ensure he remains right behind you, even though your firm grip on his hand already keeps him close.

The scene seamlessly morphs into a setting that feels strangely familiar to him. It reveals itself to be his bedroom, with those unmistakably moody grey walls you've suggested he decorate with portraits or perhaps a contemporary strand of fairy lights. A suggestion you eventually gave up figuring it might not suit his style. Little did you know his search history was brimming with room decorating ideas and his online cart packed with items you've recommended, hoping you'd approve the next time you visit. And so he sees you both standing in the middle of his room with your hand cradling his face and your thumb gently tracing circles on his cheeks.

It's sweet. A modest gesture that has him reminiscing of the times it actually happened, and he believes this may be where his daydream concludes. But in a sudden turn of events, the scene shifts abruptly and he's still standing at the centre of his room, only there's no longer any distance between you and him as his lips are fervently connected to yours in a flurry of provoked passion.

Behind his closed eyelids, his pupils are shaking as he witnesses the screenplay of your hands clutching his collar while your shirt drapes just below your shoulders. The expanse of skin from your earlobe to your breasts, and the distinct outline of your bra straps captivate him to an extent where his mouth salvates as he watches the version of himself in his dreams, move you backwards until the back of your knees meet the edge of his bed and you topple down, bringing him along with you.

Zayne managed to catch his weight before it crushed you by extending a hand out to connect with the mattress all while keeping the kiss intact and it is the course of moans emanating from your throat after he does that forces him to snap back into reality and confront the repercussions of his wandering mind.

The pounding of his heart stirs up a droning noise in his ears that is so unmistakably audible, that they practically sing in delight as his embarrassment draws out a shaky breath from his lips.

Zayne blinked his widened eyes at the provocative thoughts and placed a hand over his mouth in sheer disbelief, feeling the seething heat emanating from his face beyond his control while the tips of his ears burned with a blend of warmth and self-awareness.

"Pull yourself together," He monotones to himself as several minutes pass him where his senses traverse along the plains of questioning his dignity.

He grapples with the shame of his desperation for you that he remains unaware of the door to his office opening and closing, as well as the rhythmic clicking of footsteps approaching him just as your voice emerges with a murmured greeting, and your arms envelop his waist, prompting him to startle and turn on his feet ready to have a word with whoever dared to initiate such intimacy. But his apprehension quickly dissipates upon realizing it's you.

As if anyone else would ever have the guts to initiate physical touch with him, of all people.

"Missed me" You grinned up at him and there's that breathtaking smile of yours that has haunted his every thought for the entire day.

He hums in response to your question knowing his feelings better conveyed themselves through actions, and so he reaches out to delicately grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger and descends upon your lips with his own in a kiss that feels like a reenactment of the inception of his less-than-innocent daydream.

It's a kiss with a superiority that far surpasses the one shared in his thoughts by such a considerable margin and he indulges himself with utmost care in the way his mouth moves against yours.

His lips are soft as they nibble and tenderly envelop your lower one. The kiss is far from being only intricate with the amount of exploring tongues that delve into every crevice of each other's mouths. The saliva mingles and coats your lips at an exceptionally slow and gentle pace, creating a faint blend of moisture as the kisses smack with the occasional muted suctioning.

You're so lost in each other, that you lose track of time until the necessity to pull back for air arises. You take note that your lungs were not as adept at holding prolonged breaths at a time, as his were.

As you retreat, the realization settles upon you that you were only moments away from taking it somewhere else. Your cheeks flush with a heat under the intense gaze emanating from his eyes that peer at you through the glass of his spectacles.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, the resonance of his deep, husky voice echoing in your ears and inciting the butterflies within your stomach to run a mock.

Had you been anyone else you likely would have recoiled beneath the icy and distant timbre of his voice, misinterpreting the straightforward tone and failing to notice the underlying concern that hinted in his eyes.

"We haven't seen each other for afew days. Didn't you miss me orworry about me?" You teased.

"The weather was nice and judging by your flood of messages you must have been fine without me. Though I'd like to know why you arrived without texting me in advance."

"I missed you"

He tilts his head, denying the way his heart leapt at the confession. "What if I had already gone home?"

He steps back to create a bit of distance without raising your suspicion as he quite honestly needs a moment to quell his tumultuous heart before he takes you into his arms, which inevitably he will do again but only after he gets himself under control. Zayne casts a brief glance in your direction as he rounds his desk and begins to collect the scattered sheets of paper and neatly stack them, feigning busyness.

"I took my chances and would you look at that, I walked into your office to find you exactly where I had hoped you'd be" You remarked, watching as he perused through documents

"That was reckless of you," He chimed with a small disapproving shake of his head. "What if I wasn't here? All the money you spent on transportation would have been a waste. Not to mention it is quite late and you're out alone at night."

"Oh you're such a worrywart" You dismissed with a roll of your eyes, "Give me a break will you, Love? It's enough dealing with Caleb and Grandma as is and now you too. Besides, I was on my way to your apartment when I remembered to call you, but of course, you didn't answer and so I contacted the hospital and they mentioned Dr Zayne was still in despite his shift ending─" You looked down at your wrist-watch, "Almost four hours ago"

"Either way─"

You interrupt him by reaching over the desk and placing a finger on his lips to silence him. "If you're going to pretend you're not happy to see me I can always leave, and then both the money and coming here would be an actual waste"

It was hard to get his final say when you inadvertently threatened him with the possibility of leaving, knowing it was his weakness as of right now. That alone was enough to have him seal his mouth shut and accept the situation.

You practically radiate with approval as he simply gives in without a further fight.

Zayne let out a deep sigh as he settled into his seat and pushed aside whatever papers remained in the middle. He observed you from across the desk and gave a small tilting gesture with his head, hoping you'd read between the unspoken lines and figure out what he wanted without him having to explicitly state it. Fortunately for him, you did.

You left your bag behind on the opposite end of his desk as you circled it to reach him.

He slid back and swivelled to the side, his legs parting in invitation.

Your gaze falls to his lap as you halt in your steps, a flush creeping across your face upon noticing the bulge that presses against the fabric of his pants and Zayne's unfazed expression. He simply raises a brow and boldly takes your hand, leading you to perch on his lap.

An unusual shyness takes over you even though it's not the first time you've sat on his lap. Perhaps it's the solitude of being alone in his work environment with the romantic view of a thousand stars and the glow of man-made lights illuminating the world beyond the window.

"Why exactly haven't you gone home yet?" You whisper tenderly as your fingers trace over the noticeable dark circles beneath his eyes framed by the metallic obsidian of his glasses. "You look exhausted"

You touched these tired eyes of mine

And mapped my face out line by line

And somehow growing old feels fine

He worries if he should succumb to his vulnerability and confess the truth, or retort with something dismissive. But he decides to rid himself of questioning everything and leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as you cradle his face.

"What's on your mind, Zayne"

Listen close for I'm not smart

He feels your hands leave his face, and he's about to voice a complaint when he senses his spectacles sliding off his face, followed by a brief pause and then the unmistakable feeling of your lips leisurely planting kisses on the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

You wrap your thoughts in works of art

And they're hanging on the walls of my heart

Despite their roughness, his hands display the utmost gentleness when he holds your sides and the feeling your touch evokes makes his fingers press with a reassuring weight into your hips to anchor himself in the moment.

I may not have the softest touch

I may not say the words as such

And though I may not look like much

"Talk to me" You encourage. Your voice, like the delicate touch of flower petals falling. His ears are attuned and he blinks his eyes open, directly locking gazes with you. Ever so slightly they soften and his eyebrows unfurrow, the side of his lips raising with subtle visibility and he's sure as the dawn, understanding like never before with a knowledge he's never embraced prior.

I'm yours

He's yours

Zayne smiles at the thought, and even though you've been fortunate enough to witness it more than anyone else it will never cease to be a welcomed delight. You can't quite pinpoint why his aura appears more at ease now but you have no intention of complaining. He leans his face closer to yours, his eyes demanding a reaction while his hand places on the side of your head causing you to direct your gaze to his tie.

"Have you gotten into any trouble lately" His voice, dripping with honey, lowers as he speaks to you.

You shake your head with furrowed brows in response to his inquiry.

"I'm not always out looking for trouble!" You retort.

"No, but it seems drawn to you, and hence, it finds you"

"My trouble magnet must not be that strong considering it seems ineffective against a certain kind of trouble."

He arches a single, incredibly attractive brow. "Are you implying I'm trouble?"

"Am I?"

"I wouldn't grasp the meaning even if you did Love. I'm far too occupied with work to find myself in any sort of trouble, and it would seem my hands are tied dealing with a little troublemaker of my own. Besides, I don't reckon two troublemakers would make a balanced couple, would they now"

"So you're implying I'm the trouble one between us?"

"Not at all" He fails to hide the amusement from peaking out through the smirk that tilts his lips. "I just believe you're quite the allure to things not entirely safe."

"Oh, is this some kind of insinuation as well?" You scrunch your nose. "Not entirely safe as in...?"

A pregnant pause hangs in the air as silence cuts through. Suddenly, it hits you, and you snap your head at him with wide eyes, your jaw dropping in disbelief. "Oh."

He chuckles, poking your forehead. "You talk too much."

"You talk too little!"

"Do you want me to talk more?"

"Yes. No... Yes..." You groan, covering your eyes with your hand. "Don't ask me questions like that."

"Want to hear my voice that much?" The smug tone in his voice accompanies that breath-stealing smirk as he pries your hand from your eyes and kisses your knuckles.

"This is exactly what getting into trouble feels like," You mutter under your breath. "You're fucking trouble. I think I need my heart checked. As a doctor, you're causing more damage than healing"

For dramatic effect, you accelerate your breathing and pretend to heave for air while clutching your heart.

"Your condition is incurable," Zayne slips his arm around your waist and draws you flush against him until your noses touch. "You can't get rid of me so easily."

"Seems you're doing that on your own though" He becomes more attentive upon hearing the sigh you exert afterwards, and the air tenses ever so slightly.

"What does that mean, Angel?"

"Don't think I forgot how you evaded my questions earlier."

"It is nothing"

"Mhm, nothing as in something?"

"It is nothing to concern yourself with" He withdraws.

"I won't pry for now, but perhaps you should head home and get some sleep. You looked more exhausted than usual."

"I'm fine."

"You should still go home."

"I'd rather not."

"Why?"

"You're prying."

"I'm concern-ing"

"That's not how the word is meant to be used," He corrects, and you're on the verge of exploding when you muster a fake smile, relenting with exaggerated sarcasm, "I'm expressing concern. Happy now?"

"Thrilled," He deadpans, and you pinch his cheek causing him to glare at you.

"So you don't want to go home"

"I did not say that"

"You're unusually stubborn, especially when it involves something you don't want to disclose. So why the reluctance to go home?" You pointed it out knowingly.

Zayne remains silent in response to your questions, his lips tightly sealed as his thoughts delve into the depths of contemplation. It has neared an hour and a half since your arrival that dispelled the loneliness that took hold of him, and he hesitates to provide any reason for you to leave. He knows that sharing his worries will give you every reason to stay and never leave his side, but he grapples with the discomfort that opening up about his internal struggles could bring. The prospect of delving into his emotions and sharing them with you raises uncertainties about the potential outcomes, creating a hesitant barrier in his mind.

For him, it's something seemingly insignificant yet deeply personal. For someone who has dedicated their entire life to saving others and dealing with countless individuals and their distinct reactions, this internal struggle appears unusually challenging.

In that moment, it's you, nestled on his lap offering him the world through just your touch and your unconditional love for him. A soul poised between a state of simple and unadorned equilibrium. Someone who admitted a thousand times over how much they missed him, how much they loved him, how insatiable the longing for his presence was, they were all woven together by a thread of love and your shyness and nervous anticipation.

His long slender fingers touch your cheeks, his mind teetering towards admittance.

"I've somehow lost touch with the experience of solitude" He states, though he appears entirely lost in a world of his own. "I've missed you"

His hand drifts lower, parting your lips with his thumb. "Going to a place without you there seemed pointless. Calling it home when your presence is absent makes it feel empty. And so I chose to stay back and wait until my exhaustion reached a point where returning to my apartment wouldn't leave me yearning for you constantly"

And though my edges may be rough

"I must admit this is a foreign feeling to me, and while it is not as awkward as I anticipated, it does cause a bit of embarrassment. I feel as though I come across as excessively reliant on you, as if I lack emotional independence"

I never feel I'm quite enough

I may not seem like very much

But I'm yours

"This feels like the most you've ever talked to me despite knowing each other for almost our entire lives" You smiled, holding back a sob as tears welled up in your eyes and he found your reaction puzzling, wondering about the reason behind it.

He is unaware of the significance this holds for you and your relationship. His confession carries substantial weight, revealing feelings he has guarded closely all this time. These emotions kept hidden for so long are something you've gently encouraged him to share, trying not to press too hard or pry them out of him but aiming to help him unburden himself. It feels as though the red string of fate has finally begun to extend a bit further, as if the stars now align and connect, finally crossing the barriers they once held, bringing the ends together at long last.

Your love is deeply passionate and intertwined, much like those red strings, and your love is written in the constellations of those stars that run far across the galaxy.

"Why are you crying, Angel"

Your quivering smile reveals the acknowledgment in your heart. You nod as if agreeing to his every word, freeing yourself from restraint and allowing the tears to flow as he gently brushes them away with the pads of his thumbs.

You healed these scars over time

Embraced my soul, you loved my mind

"You do know you just indirectly asked me to move in with you, don't you?" You chuckled breathlessly, joy accompanying the sentimental realization.

Zayne's mouth forms an 'oh'... "I didn't consider it from that perspective, but I suppose it amounts to the same thing."

Your grin spreads so wide that it's uncontrollable your cheeks ache from the happiness. Zayne carefully wipes away the remainder of your tears and seals the moment with a tender kiss that erases its every trace. He then pats your thigh which signals you to rise from his lap so he can stand up.

He leans down to your height with his left hand resting on his desk and the other cupping your face once again.

"It's entirely up to you." His whispered exhale caresses your lips, his eyes boring into yours. "I desire you more than anything. Should you decide to agree, you'll have me more frequently than my work permits."

"You'd divorce your work for me?"

He dismisses your teasing with a slight shake of his head and a hint of a smile, "Unbelievable. But if that's what you would like to think of it..."

"The idea sounds quite domestic," You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'd love to have you all to myself every second you're at home, to the point where you might even get annoyed with me. But─ I wouldn't want to entirely pull you away from your work – work that helps people and has been one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I'll be content enough just to have you return home to me afterwards every night"

His heart rate undeniably quickens, evident in the pulsing of his neck and the shallowness of his breathing. You release your arms from around his neck and tend to the details of his appearance, straightening his collar and adjusting his tie.

"Besides," You add, "I love seeing you in your lab coat; it's insanely attractive"

Zayne presses a kiss to your cheek before trailing down to the sensitive area beneath your ear, a sense of excitement coursing through his veins as he envisions the promising future. In an instant, the prospect of returning to his apartment becomes highly anticipated, and the allure of his bed grows even more irresistible.

He swiftly gathers his phone and essentials as you pick up your bag and wait for him near the door. As he finishes, he approaches, noticing your outstretched hand and arching an eyebrow.

"What's with that expression?" You wrinkle your nose at the way he's eyeing your hand. "You worried your colleagues will see us holding hands?"

"On the contrary, I'd prefer if they saw it," he responds, taking your hand and interlocking your fingers.

"Then?"

He adorably tilts his head glasses once again perched on the bridge of his nose as you open the door, and he follows, "This is- quite a twist to how I imagined my day would unfold."

"It's only the beginning. You're in for a weekend of sprucing up your apartment with me," You playfully announce. "While I appreciate the modern aesthetic, I think you need something that feels more like a home."

"What have I gotten myself into" He muses, shaking his head, but deep down he harbours no regret, no wish for anything different – he'd have it no other way because the minute he heard your words, 'feel more like a home', it's like you knew him and what resided at his core, and a home with you is everything he longed for. Now, hand in hand, it's finally within reach.

"Hey, Zayne..."

He emits a soft hum as you cast a glance over your shoulder while he observes the illuminated numbers above the elevator descending.

"Let's go home"

He grins with a radiance unseen before, his eyes aglow with newfound brilliance. Nodding in agreement, he echoes the warmth of the sentiment. "Home is where the heart is," knowing his heart rests in your delicate hands.

You're the only angel in my life

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

#love and deep space #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace drabbles #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x fem!reader #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #zayne #zayne fluff #zayne fic #zayne x y/n #zayne angst #zayne smut #otome game

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bleedingoptimism · 10 months

Text

The night of the events of Starcourt, Steve lies about his parents being home because he doesn't want to impose on anyone else. So he says his parents are waiting for him back home and Joyce drops him off to get some rest.

Steve gets home and immediately realizes it's a horrible idea, he's concussed, confused, alone, scared, and in pain.

He panics and ends up walking through the woods alone where Wayne finds him when he's getting home from work.

Wayne freaks out over the injured sailor boy that looks like he hasn't slept in days and who is confused about how he got there.

He convinces Steve to come in for coffee, but when they get inside Steve starts looking around fascinated by every little trinket. he ends up in Eddie's room,

"Where am I?" he wonders and even through the questions and fears it makes Wayne chuckle,

"This is my nephew's room" He answers looking at Steve walk around with stars in his eyes at the mess.

"He must be really cool," he tells Wayne.

Wayne nods and smirks but then Steve catches his own reflection in the mirror,

"is that me? Jesus no wonder you look so worried, I look like shit"

And he says something that breaks Wayne's heart a little, "I'm sorry," and he looks so sad too, and so honest like he really thinks him not looking okay is a problem for Wayne. Like Wayne would get mad at him for not being 'presentable'.

"I should leave," Steve says.

Wayne raises his arms in mock surrender,

"Woah, no kid, it's fine, you don't look that bad, I was only worried because you look tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Steve thinks for a while and frowns, "I don't remember..."

"Why don't you rest here in this cool room," Wayne asks him with a kind smile, "and then will get that coffee, ok?"

Steve agrees and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

Wayne sighs and leaves the room, he sits on the couch and sees on the tv the news about the fire.

It's an explanation, not the whole truth but it's something. Clearly, Steve was there but that doesn't explain the bruises, the confusion, the fear. He feels like something else might be going on.

And why on gods earth was that kid all alone?

Eventually, he falls asleep too.

So when Eddie gets home from spending the night at Jeff's after a gig, he finds his uncle sleeping on the couch and doesn't find it weird at all, he tiptoes to his room for a change of clothes and there he finds the fucking former king of hawkings wearing the skimpiest sailor uniform sleeping on his bed, and for a second he thinks 'is it my birthday?' but then Steve turns in his sleep and Eddie sees his face and thinks 'shit'

He is instantly worried, no matter how much he dislikes jocks, no one deserves to be brutalized like that.

And to ruin that beautiful face? A crime.

Once more he tiptoes into the hallway and goes where his uncle is slowly waking up. He gets close, real close so when Wayne opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Eddie blinking at him.

Wayne jumps a little and bites back a curse, "Jesus kid!"

Eddie chuckles, "Sorry, Wayne. Might telling me about the little sailor in my bed?"

Wayne sighs and tells him.

When Steve wakes up a bit later is to the sound of Eddie's acoustic. He's sitting in his desk chair, plucking a sweet and soft melody,

"Morning goldilocks," he tells him with a smile.

Steve, who had a bunch of excuses and apologies lined up already frowns, and inclines his head, "Goldilocks?"

"I found you sleeping in my bed, didn't I?" Eddie answers sweetly.

Steve blushes, he can't help it, and once more instead of getting up and leaving he gets distracted by Eddie's whole deal.

"I'm not even blond" he argues.

Eddie bows his head at him, as if to say he got him there, but then says,

"You have locks of hair that look golden in the sun, goldilocks"

Steve really hopes the bruises cover his blush, he really, really hopes. But judging from Eddie's smile, he can't tell it's not the case.

"I should leave," he says moving slowly to the edge of the bed.

Eddie places his guitar on the desk and turns to fully look at him, "You don't have to. If you don't want to," he points to something on the bottom of the bed, "Look, clean clothes and my fluffiest towel, why don't you take a shower and then we drink that coffee my uncle promised?"

And Steve’s heart hurts with how much he wants that. He doesn't want to be alone, he wants to stay here with the kind wonderful man he met last night and Eddie, who played guitar for him while he slept and thinks his hair is golden, but still...

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose"

Eddie snorts and mouthes 'impose' to himself before leaning closer and looking Steve in the eyes,

"I'm sure, Goldie. Go, shower. I'll go put the kettle on"

And steve can't do much more than nod and smile shyly at him.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #i wrote something

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holylulusworld · 4 months

Text

Jealousy a la Bucky

Summary: He’s not jealous.

Pairing: (Soft)Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: jealous Bucky, Bucky is smitten for the reader, Steve being a tease, fluff, flirting

He’s not jealous. Never. He’s not even looking your way when you talk to one of his business partners. Nope. He’s not squaring his jaw or balling his hands into fists. No, of course not.

What he does is sulk at the bar, a pout on his lips, and a grumpy expression on his face. He nips at his drink while following your every move.

“That her?” Steve finally asks. He watched his friend stare at you from afar for almost half an hour. Now he wants to tease him. “I guess she’s good at making new friends, huh? A pretty dame like her. All alone. Wearing a dress like that.”

“First and final warning,” Bucky points his index finger at his friend and brother-in-crime. “I saved your life more than once. But I will take it if you say one more thing about that woman.”

“Aw, it finally happened,” sipping at his drink Steve watches his friend frown deeply. You giggle at something Clint Barton, one of his confidants and notorious weapon dealers, said. “James Buchanan Barnes is in love.”

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky grunts. “If you say one more word, you’ll lose your tongue and more.” He angrily glares at Barton, swearing on his mother’s grave he’ll kill the man if he dares to touch you. “I’m not in love.”

He’s not in love. Not at all. Of course, not. James Buchanan Barnes, a notorious mobster, and stone-cold weapon dealer doesn’t fall in love.

Then, why can’t he take his eyes off you, his sweet new assistant? The woman taking care of his life. “She brings me food and makes my appointments. Y/N is only my assistant. Stop acting like I lost my dead heart to that beautiful, caring, and sweet girl.”

“You are so in love with her,” Steve grins and raises his glass. “To James Buchanan Barnes, the most wanted bachelor who finally got tamed. I hope you know I want to be your best man at your wedding.”

Bucky glares at Steve. He wants to say something, or (and) punch his friend’s face when someone calls his name. Your sweet voice brings him out of his rage and back to reality.

“Mr. Barnes, you should eat something,” you clear your throat to get your boss’s attention. “Sir, I got you a plate filled with all the things you like.”

“All the things I like?” He drops his eyes to the plate you hold. “You mean all the things you like, doll.”

You giggle at the pet name. Bucky Barnes is a dangerous man, and you should be afraid to be even close to him. Oddly, you feel the safest around your boss. He’s a big teddy bear when it comes to you.

“Fine, I got you the same things I like so we can share.”

“You want to share the food with Bucky?” Steve swallows thickly when his friend snaps his head toward him. “He’s a food thief. You should keep a close eye on that food.”

“I like sharing,” you softly say. “Mr. Barnes often forgets to eat. I made it my mission to take care of him and his well-being.”

Steve chokes on his drink at the look Bucky gives you. Puppy dog eyes. James Buchanan Barnes looks at you like you are a miracle to him.

“Uh-cool,” the blonde says. “I’ll grab some food too. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Same,” you are busy offering food to your boss and barely look at Steve. “Now, what do you want to taste first?”

‘Your lips’, Bucky thinks to himself but doesn’t say it out loud. “What do you recommend?”

“We could start with the salmon and then, you should try the green asparagus. It’s delicious and the best I ever ate. OH, and they have the best desserts, Bucky.” You gasp as you just called your boss by his name. “I’m sorry, Sir…I didn’t…I…”

“My name sounds like a melody on your tongue,” Bucky grabs the salmon to wolf it down. You just stare at him, and let his words sink in.

“That was…” you snort. “Oh my god! So funny. I mean…sorry…but…that was the lamest pick-up line ever,” you step closer to whisper in his ear. “You know, if you like me, you can just ask me out.”

“It was poetic and—” He tries to argue until he realizes you kinda asked him out. “Do you want to go on a date with me, doll?”

“Phew, finally,” you smirk. “I wouldn’t have made it through the night if I talked to Mr. Barton for much longer. He wanted me to have a look at his bow. I still don’t know what he meant.”

“His bow?” Bucky hiccups. “That bastard wanted to show you his bow?”

“Hmm…I told him that you already offered to show me your gun.”

“Right now?” He nervously shifts on his feet, and hopefully looks at you.

“No,” you pat his chest and smile. “I don’t look at a man’s gun before the second date…or the third.”

“I bet you’ll make an exception for me,” he takes the plate out of your hands and throws it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll order room service for us.”

“I’m keeping you up on that promise, Sir…”

You will have room service, in Paris only a few hours later…

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #mobster!bucky #mobster!bucky barnes x reader #female reader #mafia au

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kookslastbutton · 1 month

Text

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

series masterlist | next >>

You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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sixosix · 4 months

Text

STAY, TOO | AETHER

desc you were afraid that aether would break your heart, but that all flew out the window the moment he got sick and demanded only you take care of him

notes wc 2.8k, FLUFF FLUFF bit of angst with reader’s mindset but happy ending i swear on my asia server genshin acc + this draft had been in my docs since 10/15/2023. its a miracle that i decided to pick up on it again and actually finish it !!!!!!! enjoy fellow aether kissers

Evenings were always eerily silent; because of that, your thoughts were loud. Not in the way that screamed—no, it was much worse. It was his voice that whispered, that made you shiver and reach out for something that never existed.

You didn’t know if you were dreaming or if you were awake and letting your mind wander away to a familiar face. Your mind always ended up back to him, no matter how much you tried to stray away. No matter who you talked to, he haunted you. Who you kissed, his face flashed in your mind. You wanted to curse his name out—it was his fault you were like this. It was his fault for deciding to come into this world and rid yourself of your defenses, left helpless to his whims.

“Um, Y/N?” A hand moved to your shoulder.

You jumped out of your seat, heart racing as his grinning face dissipated from your mind. You turned and breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here, Sucrose?”

“It’s past midnight,” Sucrose murmured, her expression nervous, but apparently, she was too worried to leave you be. “I saw light from your window and thought you fell asleep…”

You didn’t even know if you were—everything before felt like a distant blur. Your eyes darted back to your desk, and then your face paled at the sight of a grinning face staring back at you. How long had you been mindlessly doodling Aether’s face? You quickly snatched them away from Sucrose’s view.

“I—I’m fine. Sorry, I did fall asleep.”

Sucrose’s bottom lip jutted out. “This has been happening for too long now. You’re not fine.”

What were you supposed to say to that? You were so hopelessly infatuated with someone who was ruining your life and possibly your job with Mr. Albedo. That would be a fast way to get yourself fired.

Sucrose sat on the chair beside you, her expression determined. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that serious, Sucrose,” you stammered. Hopefully, the candles were dim enough to hide how flustered you were. It was more embarrassing than serious, really.

“Is it the Traveler?” She knew how to strike hard for someone with such an innocent face.

When had it not been the Traveler, honestly?

“Ugh…” That was a yes for her, apparently.

Sucrose smiled in relief. Her eyes darted around your face, studying you. “What’s wrong? Was he affecting you that much?”

“Yes. Disturbingly so. Like, seriously, it’s disturbing me.”

Sucrose’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “How?”

“It feels like swallowing a crystalfly whole and feeling it flutter around my stomach whenever I even think of him.”

Sucrose’s face turned serious. “What have you been doing to the crystalfies we’ve been collecting?”

“Never mind,” you muttered. “I’m fine, Sucrose. I promise, okay?”

You weren’t. Sucrose must’ve thought the same, too, because Lisa barged into your office the next day.

“What else are you expecting? For him to notice your wallowing and say something about it?”

Lisa’s sweet, melodious voice sounded torturous now when she was poking at all the things you were desperately trying to keep hidden. You sink against your seat, feeling a lot like a scolded kid, caught red-handed skipping chores—skipping responsibilities, hoping to stay oblivious for a bit longer.

“He already said something,” you grumbled, finding it difficult to meet the mage’s sharp eyes.

For someone who sounded as gentle as a mother to her only child, Lisa’s disappointment made you feel a lot more shameful than if she were to chide you in the middle of Mondstadt’s streets.

“A week after we met. He told me he likes me,” you continued.

Lisa’s jaw dropped, a funny expression you’ve never seen on her before. “A week after you met? Let me get this right—”

You groaned, “Lisa, trust me, I know—”

“—Our dear Traveler confessed to you ages ago. When was it when Aether helped us with Stormterror? He’s in Fontaine now!” Lisa looked a little frazzled, her eyes wild. You were expecting her to chide you some more until you saw how her entire expression was sparkling. This felt foreboding, somehow. “He keeps visiting to see you! After all these years of you foolishly rejecting him—”

“I didn’t reject him!”

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, but isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

You were not rejecting Aether. You didn’t outright tell him you’re not interested because you are. He had been haunting your thoughts since you first laid eyes on him, returning from battle, cold breath billowing from his mouth, a pixie by his side, his hair aglow gold, Festering Desire in hand—and, oh, you desired him. It reached a point where Albedo himself had to ask if you wanted a check-up from how much you were burning with want.

Aether had grinned at you so brightly, and you damn near melted on the spot, even in the unrelentingly bitter weather of Dragonspine.

You found yourself liking him for more than his quite literally alien nature, his out-of-this-world body, and his abilities that had your hands itching to reach for a pen and paper to write down everything about him and figure out what the hell he was. Instead, you started falling for him as just Aether. His boyish smile, his witty jabs, his glimpses of personality.

And then he confessed to you—you, no one but one of Albedo’s assistants—and said he likes you, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at the time. You thought of him leaving one day, and then you just couldn’t say the yes that was chanting in your brain.

To no one’s surprise, he did leave. Not to that extent yet, but away from Mondsadt. Even in Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, and Fontaine, he invaded your thoughts as if cursing you for not saying what you were thinking. You could only wish he thought of you just as much as you did to him. Maybe he’d end up hating you, and not loving him would be easier.

“Are you kidding?” If it were so easy, you would’ve already jumped in his arms and kissed him breathlessly. “He’s—he’s not like us. He doesn’t belong here. He’d leave, eventually. Just like he always does with the other worlds.”

“Is that what’s stopping you?”

“That’s reason enough to be stopping me,” you said sharply. “He’s got millions of worlds to flirt with as he pleases, and this is my only one. Who knows if Aether is the type to even visit?”

Lisa crossed her arms. “Maybe you should ask. Communication is key.”

“Even if that was the case, I can’t handle it. I already miss him enough while he’s still in Teyvat—I don’t know how I could live with myself if I let him into my heart, and he’s a world away.”

“You’ve already let him in your heart,” Lisa said softly. “Just talk to him, alright? I’m not the only one worried about you when you drive yourself to a corner like this—especially over a boy!”

“I’m perfectly alright,” you said, ignoring Lisa’s amused smile. “I’m not losing my mind. Especially over a boy.”

You definitely were losing your mind. That boy was Aether; how could you not?

“I think it’s adorable,” Lisa cooed, cupping her cheeks and sighing dreamily. “He’s still waiting patiently. Who knew the Traveler would be so willing to wait for love?”

You wished that it wasn’t like that.

“Y/N! Are you here?”

Crap. Did you fall asleep in your office again? Might as well stop paying rent if this was going to be a recurring thing.

Once again, by routine at this point, you threw your notes that had Aether’s face inked by the edges. Memory be damned, You couldn’t let anyone see how detailed your drawings of Aether are.

“Y/N?” The voice rang out again, and it sounded more familiar now.

You went to open the door and frowned. “Lisa? It’s so early—did something happen?”

Lisa smiled in greeting, so beautifully devious with what she was about to say: “Our Honorary Knight is back in town!”

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” Were people just seeing you as one of Aether’s admirers?

“Of course not,” Lisa chuckled, patting your head. How did she look so good this early in the morning? “He’s sick and needs someone to look after him.”

You wanted to close the door. You wanted to crawl back to your desk and go to sleep, but she had that look in her eye—one that told you that you had something to do with where she was going. And you did not like where this was going.

“So?” Dammit. You really wanted to see Aether again.

“Why, who else better to take care than his dearest alchemist?”

“Albedo is everyone’s alchemist. Sucrose is everyone’s dearest alchemist.”

Lisa shushed you. Why was she so invested in this? “No, no, his. Not everyone’s.”

You felt your face burn at the thought of being his dearest alchemist. Or anything his. “Absolutely not! Wasn’t he in Fontaine just yesterday?”

“Why don’t you go ask him that yourself?”

You scowled. You weren’t agreeable in the mornings. “How did you even know about this?”

Lisa smirked, poking your nose. “Because he asked for you, specifically.”

You laughed dryly—good one.

“I won’t let you do anything you wouldn’t want,” Lisa said seriously, “but would you change your mind if I told you that it’s Aether that wants you?”

And so you ended up in Aether’s teapot, which was hanging around Jean’s office for safety. Jean only smiled knowingly when you knocked on the door and zipped straight to the teapot. You were only doing this on the off-chance that Lisa was telling the truth and that Aether demanded he didn’t want anyone else but you checking up on him.

His teapot was familiar. You had been here a few times, but you didn’t have your own room. That was too embarrassing to ask, no matter how much Aether suggested it.

“Y/N!” Aether lit up the moment you entered the room.

“Aether,” you greeted, and as much as you wanted to hide it, a smile bloomed on your lips. It was hard not to smile when Aether was looking at you like that.

He looked like a mess, with strands of hair spread all over his pillows. His blanket was only up to his hips, showing that he was out of his usual look, and wore a simple white shirt. You were grateful for that shirt; you didn’t want to end up helping Aether strip because he definitely would have suggested that.

“I’m sick,” Aether whined. “Tend to me.”

You would’ve doubted his fever, but it was worryingly hot when you reached out to check his forehead’s temperature.

Immediately, your suspicions fly out the window. Aether was burning, and you were the only one in the same room (teapot?) who should take care of him. The Honorary Knight was reduced to a fever.

You cupped his cheek and watched as Aether pressed his face closer. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yes.”

You tore your hand off. “I’ll make something to ease the pain.”

“You can ease it right now. By kissing it away.”

“Aether,” you sighed. Unbelievable. How did he still have enough energy for this while positively rotting on his bed? “Take this seriously. I haven’t seen you this sick— Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you sick. How did this even happen?”

“Stayed too long underwater,” he said.

Aether? Getting sick from swimming? You made a face, which Aether laughed softly at.

“No, seriously. It was an emergency commission. Even when I had to resurface, it was pouring. Someone was making the Hydro Dragon cry hard yesterday.” Aether’s face scrunched as he looked up at you with round eyes. “I was so cold.”

Although it sounded absurd that Aether would get a fever from that, you suppose that having to stay drenched for a long time would affect even someone like him. You couldn’t even imagine having to shiver your way back to Mondstadt after being thoroughly drenched the whole day.

You pulled the blanket further up Aether’s chest. Even if you suspected he was lying, he was trembling underneath the covers.

“Alright.” You’ll believe him because right now, it is a fact that Aether is undoubtedly sick.

You were well aware that he was and sounded like he was dying, but he looked cute, flushed, and staring at you expectantly. It felt nice to be needed by someone like him—made him feel less like a faraway dream.

You cleared your throat and looked away; you knew you looked flustered. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Why? Will you cook for me?” he asked.

You knew how to cook, but for someone who had traveled regions and tasted all kinds of foods, you would probably disappoint. Still, it wasn’t time for a competition with other chefs in Liyue or Fontaine. Aether needed food to fill his stomach.

“Any suggestions?” You hoped for nothing unfamiliar and crazy. You loved Aether, but having to fetch ingredients from oceans away was too much.

“Make it with love,” Aether said cheekily because he was a bastard who didn’t have any mercy on your heart.

And so you left the room and ignored Aether, laughing and coughing as he called after you. You had to leave either way—your chest was almost as warm as Aether’s forehead.

You decided to make a Radish Veggie Soup. You hoped Aether wasn’t too picky about his vegetables. The water was comfortably cold, enough to make you search around his cupboards for towels to soak it into. As you waited for the water to boil, you decided to check up on Aether again.

He was still lying there, but with his eyes closed now. You felt terrible seeing someone you witnessed defeat dragons battling a fever. You drew closer and placed the towel on his head. He didn’t flinch at the stark change of temperature, but he did react instantly, his warm hand clasping your wrist.

“Stay,” Aether rasped.

You bit your lip, your heart sinking. Was he dreaming about his sister? You always worried when he was feeling down because of their separation.

But then his eyes opened, and he stared right at you. “Y/N,” he said, “please stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Just this once.” Aether’s voice sounded so quiet, so unsure of himself.

You really couldn’t. You had a Radish Veggie Soup to attend to.

“I’m staying,” Aether said, and you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the bed. “I’m staying here for you.”

You frowned. “Don’t lie to make me feel better right now. That would hurt more when you have to leave.”

Aether’s face softened impossibly. “I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth—I’m not leaving Teyvat. Even if I find my sister, I’m staying.”

Seriously? Just like that? “What made you change your mind?”

You couldn’t tell if Aether was blushing or if it was his fever. “How could I leave Teyvat when I see how cute you look taking care of me?”

You threw a pillow to his face.

He swerved away and laughed brightly. “I’m joking! I’m joking—drop that pillow, please. I’m kidding. Well, sort of.”

His face was once again attempted to get assaulted by another pillow. Aether grinned as he blocked it off with an arm.

“For someone so sick, you seem awfully lively,” you said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You breathe life into me; what can I say?”

You groaned. You couldn’t deal with this today—you needed at least three business days to process this and find another reason to reject him. Yet, as you moved to get some fresh air (anything to get Aether’s stupid face out of your view), a hand abruptly reached for your wrist.

Aether’s face was close to yours in a blink of an eye. His breath was hot on your face. “I’m serious,” he said, “so if— if you feel the same way, the least you can do is stay, too.”

“I— You—” You gaped at him. That sounded like it could be a proposal. Who would’ve thought—the Outlander, the Traveler, begging for you to stay?

Aether’s gaze flicked to your lips.

“Don’t kiss me,” you said in warning. “Are you an idiot? You’re sick!”

“That’s fine. I get to take care of you when you do,” Aether said.

Your face paled. “No! I have a job, Aether—”

Aether frowned. “And I have a world to save, but that can wait. We’re busy.”

You pushed his face away, his laugh smothered by your palm. “No, we are not. I’m busy making food for your sorry ass, away from you.”

Aether’s face crumpled. “Do you actually not want to kiss?”

Not when he’s sick and snotty, yeah.

Instead, you leaned in to kiss his forehead to make up for it. It was brief and faint, but Aether looked satisfied, smiling softly when you pulled away. It would do for now.

“I’m staying,” you said. “So long as you do, too. I’ll stay with you.”

THE SOUP TURNED OUT OKAY STILL. this is just how my mom takes care of me when im sick LOL but the idea of doing it to a sick aether was too good i had to write a fic about it. also i love angst about aether being the traveler aaghgh

thank u sm for reading. as always, lmk what u think and i hope u liked it!! <3

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n #genshin x y/n

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yeorisanaxox · 3 months

Text

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ➤ ᴄᴜᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ᴡ ᴏᴛ8 x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛʟʏ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɢsᴛ

. ➬sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ: ᴄᴜᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ɴᴏɴᴇ *ɪꜰ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀᴄᴀsᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ*

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴏsᴛs! ɪ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ :)

ღhongjoong. You knew when he was frustrated— the sound his pen made, scribbling aggressively over whatever was displeasing him before starting a new page. And the process would repeat until he was too frustrated to even look at his work and bury his face in his palms. Right now he was beating himself up and letting every doubt torment him until tears.

Your hand suddenly touches his shoulder while the other gently pries his hands away from his face and you're met with those glossy eyes. Another tear escapes them as your hands gently cup his cheeks, wiping them away.

“Take a break sweetie. Come lay down for a bit.” You say more like a question, hoping that he would agree. He swallowed down a sob that was burning in his throat, “but—”

“It will all be here waiting when you come back. I promise.”

It was a short moment before he gave in and let you pull him away from his work and onto the studio couch where he realized the second he was in your arms, how exhausted he really was and dozed off not even a second later.

ღseonghwa. The duality of this man was truly unreal. On stage he put on the persona of the most intimidating being created versus off stage and how he was now, curled up underneath your pink blanket that had my melody all over it with his nintendo switch nestled in his hands, playing animal crossing. You never did understand how to play but seeing him so immersed, you weren’t sure if he was aware how close the device was to his face.

“Hwa?”

He hums in response, still looking at the screen, leaving you to have to reach over and cup his cheek and turn him to you. His eyes widened at the action, taken completely off guard. You can only laugh at how adorable he looked and booped his nose.

“The screen was too close. Don’t want you to hurt your eyes.” You tell him and rest your hand back in your lap.

“Oh.” Is all he said but you noted when he lowered the device from his face and went back to the game with a fainted blush that he was trying to bite back.

ღyunho. It was just a prank you had seen on tiktok and wanted to try on him. Walking up to him at mid bite of him stuffing another spoonful of froot loops in his mouth, he pauses when you suddenly put your palm out in front of him. Wiping the trickle of milk off his chin, looking between you and it, trying to piece together exactly what you wanted. Your fingers wiggled around boredly in the air like they were waiting and him not knowing what to do, subconsciously leans forward and places his chin in your palm.

Your instant cooing startles him a bit before he’s nervously laughing at the situation at hand.

“Is that what you wanted?”

ღyeosang. Is the kindest, most gentle soul to ever grace mankind, sometimes you can’t help but to just stare in awe at how politely he’d covered his mouth while laughing or smile shyly whenever the guys would tease him. Sometimes even turning to you with a pout for help. You’d let him lean his head against your shoulder to hide his burning cheeks, gently cooing at him asyour hands would cup them and rub them with your thumbs to comfort him.

ღsan. Always did become a bit clingy when he was drunk. Needing you to be right by his side and clinging on to you by the arm as he nuzzled his face in your neck.

“I’m not even that drunk.” He mumbles, believing it was more so to himself but you still heard it, giggling when he then hiccups, shaking your body too.

“Oh yeah? Let me see.” Nudging your shoulder to help him sit up a little. He still hugs your arm and beams up at you, making his dimples pop out.

“See—” hiccuping again. You can’t resist cupping his cheek and plant a short but sweet kiss to his cheek.

ღmingi. You believe it was one of those days for him. One of those days where he just couldn’t seem to leave your side. Wherever you went, he was sure to follow, always whining out a tiny ‘wait,’ before latching on to your wrist and going with you. Sometimes just to tease him, you can’t help it because he always reacted too wholesomely when you try to pull away from him.

Those boba eyes seemed to glisten brighter as he pouted, feigning hurt all over. You’d cup his cheeks hastily, pulling his face closer to yours, thumbing over them lovingly.

“Sorry princess, you’re just too precious.”

ღwooyoung. If there wasn’t anything this guy loved more, it was having your attention. You just didn’t understand— on the outside, he liked to portray being unbothered and waving an accusing finger of, “you’re so obsessed with me.” When really on the inside, his heart felt like it was going to beat right out his chest.

And whenever you would cup his cheeks before a kiss, it took every muscle to not cripple at your feet. Such a gentle touch yet it made his head feel so dizzy.

“Kiss me.” He mumbles against your lips, causing you to giggle. “I am kissing you honey.”

“Good.” Pecking your lips again, and again, and again. “Don’t stop.”

ღjongho. As much as you loved your boyfriend, sometimes he could be a menacing little shit. Loving how riled up you’d get from his antics, not stopping until you’re huffing and puffing, and folding your arms at him.

Now he was the one who asked if you could help take his makeup off because he felt too lazy to do it but every time you brought the cotton pad near his eyes, he’d turn his head in the other direction.

First, thinking nothing of it until he did it again a second time and a third time, seeing him bite back a smile. By the fourth and fifth, you firmly grabbed underneath his chin and held him in place. *That went straight to his dick ngl* drawing a smirk of your own, seeing him shift below you uncomfortably.

“Be a good boy and be still.”

“Woof.” He responds clearly turned on.

written by yeorisanaxox. No translations or reposting. Leave a like and reblog w [feedback is much appreciated] ✨

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qingxin-dream · 6 months

Text

“My Sweet Angel”

summary | months of repressed feelings bubble to the surface one night, but you’re fast asleep while wanderer is lost in his own thoughts secretly pining for you. but, uh…pining might be an understatement. (art credits: @/1eternalstar on twitter).

warnings | wanderer is down so bad, obsession, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader, somnophilia, aphrodisiac/drugging, masturbation, edging/orgasm denial, oral f!receiving, bondage, temperature/element play, worship, slight degradation/praise, creampie

genre | pure, filthy smut (happy kinktober!🎃)

word count | 2.8k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A small, breathless gasp ripples through the silence of the night. The sound of crickets and cicadas is but a low roar in the background, barely enough to mask the melody of your traveling companion’s sweet, subdued moans. Merely a foot away is your sleeping form, quietly snoozing with your pretty lashes resting on your cheeks. Your silhouette is ethereal, like an angel banished from heaven finding solace in the moonlight with her wings tucked safely away.

Wanderer’s attention ceaselessly gravitated toward you. It seemed to be a natural reaction. Instinctual, even. He admired you with the deepest devotion, seconds turning into hours. There was a part of him, something long buried and locked away, which surfaced in his chest like a breath of fresh air.

Your hair cascades perfectly over your shoulders, framing the soft shape of your face. Your rosy lips part in a faint sigh. The occasional incoherent mumble of your dreams causes his ears to perk up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what your little fantasies are made of. Your exposed stomach when you roll over with a groan and the magnetic curve of your legs make his eyes darken with lust.

Archons, he had way too much time in his hands every night. Thankfully you were blissfully unaware that puppets didn’t need any sleep.

He cursed to himself between sharp, ragged intakes, his needy violet eyes reflecting the luminescence of the moon, raking over your curves with a carnal glint. Looking back, he had all the opportunities in the world to stop that nagging desire churning within his chest.

But Wanderer was selfish. Once he got a taste of your affection, consider him a starved man.

His thoughts about you would twist and tangle his emotions until it utterly choked him of any sensibility. Love and lust are more than just a slippery slope. The puppet was free-falling in the abyss of your pheromones. The best part is you were completely clueless to these intimate escapades of his.

Could you blame such a depraved, touch-starved puppet?

The nights all seemed to blend together like this. Waiting patiently for you to snore gently before he let his fingers ghost your figure, assuring him that you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. One hand would devote itself to exploring every bit of skin you had to offer while the other palmed the growing bulge in his shorts.

Like a moth to a flame, he became utterly entranced with the glow of your skin beneath the moon. You are like a goddess laying beautifully upon your altar of silken bedsheets, awaiting the devout worship of his soft prayers and saccharine lips.

His fingers grazed your shoulder, trailing down your arm and leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake. He let his hand mesh carefully into the dip of your waist, imperceptibly squeezing it just enough to fan the flames of his imagination. He was in another dimension entirely, wishing for the day you’d beg for his touch.

Wanderer takes his lower lip between his teeth harshly, dipping his hand beneath his shorts to tug the tip of his thick cock with growing fervor. Precum had already wet the slit of his tip, lubricating each teasing thrust of his hand over his dick. Meanwhile, he continued his journey down the round, plump curve of your hips.

Hips that were meant for childbearing.

He takes a fistful of your nightgown momentarily as his cock aches in his hand, yearning for release so soon. For fuck’s sake, why is the image of you bred full with his seed so goddamn hot?

His movements came to an abrupt halt at the lacy end of your little nightgown. He had to know what you were wearing beneath that silky dress. The idea of making a mess all over your cute panties, covering them generously in his cum, only edged him further. Or, even better, he’d love to fuck his creamy load all over your drenched folds before sliding back in for another round.

Wanderer had to make a concerted effort to reel in his filthy daydreams, struggling to keep his hands from trembling on you. He managed to slip the nightgown higher and higher up your smooth thighs, a lump quickly forming in the puppet’s throat.

He’s not sure if he could handle seeing you so vulnerable without ripping your clothes off and fucking you to his heart’s content right then and there. No, no, no... After all this endless waiting and pining for many torturous months, he couldn’t ruin this with a fleeting moment of insatiable want. He pauses, collecting himself for a brief moment.

The puppet’s pupils dilated into pools of audacious desire upon seeing the dainty black undergarments hugging your plush hip. It was lacy with a beautiful floral design, enrapturing his gaze all the way down to your cunt. Wanderer couldn’t help himself, reaching out subconsciously to brush his thumb against your clit through your panties.

“I wanna fuck you so bad… so bad,” he whispers, his voice just an octave higher with desperation as he continues to fist his throbbing cock. The friction of his hand isn’t enough. It couldn’t come close to the immaculate sensation of your slick pussy enveloping his cock, dragging the tip slowly from your clit to your fluttering, empty hole. But that would be insane, he couldn’t.

You didn’t seem to move a muscle in response to his touch. Meanwhile, Wanderer is struggling like a fool to restrain himself, it is almost comical. He could feel his impending orgasm, forcing his hand to slow down with longer, more intermittent strokes to stop from practically bursting at the seams.

Eventually, he found the courage to nudge the cloth of your black panties aside, revealing your pretty little pussy lips glistening with need. The puppet’s violet irises swirl with power, nearly drunk on the mere thought of pleasuring you in secret like this. Why else would you wear such a sexy little garment for him?

A dull, burning sensation coated his lungs as his thumb nestled into your bare clit, resolving himself to carefully lean down and relieve his parched throat with a kitten lick of your folds. It was a miracle that you hadn’t stirred in your sleep too much, yet the part of him reckless with lust wanted you to wake up while he was tongue-deep in your cunt. He dived between your labia again with his mouth, exhaling a soft, guttural moan into your hole after another good lick.

“Mm, so fucking good… I know you fucking like this, baby,” Wanderer mumbles, wrapping his arms around your hips to secure you in place as he freely drags his tongue across your folds and clit skillfully, placing an occasional kiss here and there. Your thighs subconsciously tense with pleasure.

Had he known you would taste so divine, he would’ve devoured your pussy a long time ago. Shifting slightly so that he could lay completely on his stomach, Wanderer eagerly laps at your cunt and fucks his leaking cock into the mattress. Shit, it is too easy for him to lose sight of himself and tug at your hips possessively, not hesitating to fuck you messily with his tongue.

It’s when he got a little too hasty slurping on your pussy with a particularly lascivious moan that you grumble in your sleep. Wanderer freezes, peering over your pelvis like a predator defending his prize with a piercing violet glare.

There is no way you could possibly wake up. Not now. Not when he’s so close. He deduces that the twitch in your sleep must be from that little aphrodisiac he slipped in your evening tea with him. The puppet had made a nice concoction of tasteless drugs to keep you both asleep and all sensitive just for him.

Wanderer is confident that his potion had its intended effect, but just in case—with a flick of his wrist, he ties your hands together on the headboard with a cool, pressurized ring of Anemo energy. He towers over you, a giddy smirk spreading across his lips seeing you so helpless to his desires.

He had read that cute pocket diary of yours gushing over him like he’s your high school sweetheart, don’t worry. You both know these feelings are mutual. But let’s be honest, he’d much rather you gush on his cock over and over until your pussy can’t take it anymore. And you’ve been dreaming about it too, he’s seen it with his own eyes.

Positioning himself between your legs, the puppet slaps his thick cock on your stomach, measuring it up to your belly button where his pink tip mushrooms. There’s no question that his dick would bottom out inside your walls, maybe if he’s lucky he could see his thrusts bulge in your lower stomach. He’d love to pound you deep enough to truly bury his cum inside you, plugging it with his pulsing cock until he’s sure you’re nice and bred.

No, no, he reminds himself again. He has to savor his time with you—make love to you like you rightfully deserve. There will be plenty of opportunities to fuck you senseless later, despite how badly he wants it now.

The tip of his cock trails down to your folds, tucking his length under your panties. Using one hand to guide his cock against your soaking core, the other rests on your inner thigh as he grinds against you slowly. Wanderer grits his teeth at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath and brushing his thumb lovingly against your sensitive inner thigh. It’s everything he’s ever imagined and more.

He’s forced to bite his knuckles, nearly choking on his own pathetic whines of pleasure. His thrusts grow faster, using your lingerie to keep his cock pressed firmly between your folds.

His words are a ravenous, hoarse whisper, begging you in your sleep. “Shit, shit, shit, you’re gonna make me cum…! Can I put it in? C-Can I please put it in?”

Wanderer knows what your answer will be, grinding sloppily on your drenched cunt while he grabs your breast. He wishes he could hear you say it. But he can feel the way your sweet little hole clenches around nothing every time his tip rubs your clit just right, and that’s enough for him.

It takes no effort to snap the thin straps of your lacy panties in haste, quickly tossing the garment aside indiscriminately. It’s too much, fuck, you look too perfect. Before he knows it, Wanderer pushes his tip inside your sopping entrance, gazing with wonder at how you suck him in like a good slut. Such a good fucking slut, hugging the first inch of his hard cock like you never wanted to let go.

Your spongy walls subconsciously react to his every motion, tightening around the puppet’s cock with unprecedented strength. He hisses, materializing a blue chained choker around your neck with his Anemo abilities and yanking you forward. His girth splits you apart, sliding inside your throbbing cunt inch by every tantalizing inch, until he can meet you halfway and kiss your whimpering, tender lips.

“Goddamn you,” Wanderer growls into the kiss, harshly biting onto your lip. He doesn’t draw blood, but tends to your bruised skin thereafter with a gentler, half-apologetic kiss. “You feel so fucking good, take me so fucking good… mm…”

His hips draw back, your walls noticeably empty in his absence. Snapping forward, his huge cock plunges into your depths with a delightfully lewd smack, causing him to chuckle under his breath. The puppet carefully lays you back on the pillow, planting his arms on either side of your head so that his vision is filled with only your beautiful face.

Once Wanderer begins to establish a rhythm, there’s no stopping him. Every drag of his veiny cock against your sensitive walls is utterly addicting, he had to come back for more and more. He moans and whines your name into your delicate little neck, taking the flesh into his mouth to suck and mark you as his own.

He is panting over you like an animal in heat. “I can feel you squeezing me, angel. I know you love it. ‘M gonna use that pretty little pussy of yours.”

Your body twitches beneath him as his lips leave no crevice untouched by his kisses or hickeys, a smattering of small red and purple blotches dotting your skin from your neck to your breasts. All the while, the puppet had to throttle his pace again, almost giving in to the ecstasy. You were definitely getting close too, he could feel it in the way you clenched around him greedily.

Swirling his tongue around your cute nipple, Wanderer suckles it briefly with a pop of his mouth, admiring his work on the canvas of your gorgeous body. He leaned back, hooking his hands under your calves to press your knees to your chest. If only he had a Kamera to capture the mesmerizing image of your legs spread so good for him with a perfect shot of your cunt wrapped around his tip.

He could tell this position had your walls enveloping his length even tighter than before, angling his cock deep towards that special spot inside you that would have your toes curling. “God, (Y/N), you look so fucking sexy like this.”

It is killing him—the sensation of your hole desperately clinging to the inch of his cock sheathed within you. The puppet keeps your legs pushed back and snakes a hand down to your clit once more, which had obviously been aching for attention. He’s lost in the contours of your folds all splayed out for him, so much so that he lets a globule of his spit drip over your clit to mix with your juices.

You are squirming slightly in your sleep from all the stimulation, but he doesn’t care. The euphoric feeling of teetering on the edge of an incredible orgasm has Wanderer stripped of any sense of reason. He nudges his cock halfway inside you at a delectably slow pace, reveling in your body’s subtle reactions to his teasing.

“Yeah, baby? You wanna fucking cum?” Wanderer whispers hotly over you, circling your clit faster. There’s already a delicious ring of your essence gathering at the base of his cock.

“Cum…” you mumble in a daze, your eyelashes fluttering open slowly. Your expression is contorted into a helpless plea, licking and biting your bottom lip as you sleepily notice his cock nestled between your thighs.

Wanderer’s eyes snap to yours in disbelief. You’re lucid, but asking for more. He begins to chuckle lowly, and reaches to caress your cheek. “You want it, hm? Speak up.”

He continues to fuck you at an excruciatingly slow pace, waiting patiently for you to beg for his seed. He wanted you in tears, squirting all over him like a good girl. Your moans encourage him to go deeper.

“Please, Wanderer,” you struggle to curl your fingers in his indigo locks under the effects of the drugs. “K-keep going, feels too good. Fill me up, please…”

“Like this?” The puppet smirks, forcefully thrusting his huge cock to the brim inside of you. He relishes in your lovely cries of pleasure and pain, swallowing them in a passionate kiss as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

You could barely hiccup a response, sloppily kissing back as Wanderer abuses your tight hole. He has you pinned against the creaky mattress, holding your face with his thumb on your chin to keep your mouth open. Every noise of ecstasy is his to claim and taste on your tongue.

“Mine, baby, all mine. Say it for me,” Wanderer moans, adoring the cock-drunk glimmer in your clouded eyes.

Squeezing your eyes shut suddenly, your eyebrows furrowed together as you suddenly felt your orgasm build at a rapid speed. You whined against the Anemo cuffs restraining your wrists above your head. “Yours! Oh my god, I’m yours. I’m gonna fucking cum, please, please give it me…!”

“Mhmm, yeah c’mon baby, lemme see you cum for me, so good for me, yeah?” he praises, kissing you roughly as he snaps his hips into you. It’s impossible to deny his insatiable need for you any longer, painting your walls white with spurts of his hot seed in a series of profanity-laden grunts.

Your eyes nearly roll back as your orgasm washes over you, legs trembling around him. The continuous twitch of his cock has you arching your back, taking every last drop of his cum until your cunt can’t hold any more. It leaks out, creaming your folds and his cock nicely.

Once you both catch your breath and lock eyes, you feel your cunt ache to be filled once more. Noticing how you trap him with your legs around his hips, Wanderer realizes the aphrodisiac must have been stronger than he anticipated.

You smile sweetly. “M-maybe one more?”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#happy kinktober and happy halloween!!🫶#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut

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satorubi · 1 year

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DAZED ! - FUSHIGURO TOJI

SYNOPSIS : ❝ what the fuck was in that strain ? ❞

FEATURING : plug! toji x fem! reader

— CONTENT WARNING : minors do not interact !!, black reader written in mind, use and mentions of mary jane, dominant toji, female! reader, whiny toji bc i need it so bad, hair pulling, spanking, squat-riding, blowjob, fingering, use of profanity and pet names such as ᰔ slut, sweetheart ofc, baby ᰔ

— AUTHOR’S NOTE : hiiii. excuse any mistakes !! this was supposed to be out sooner but i haven’t been feeling the best :/ i’ve come around to finishing this thingy so here you goooo !!!! i hope you all enjoy. reblogs and interactions earn you a smooch.

YOU LOVED YOUR BOYFRIEND.

not only did he take care of you, tend to your every want, and give you the entire world— but he had one of the best jobs ever…in your opinion. being a dealer and all, he was always the first of the first to receive and test only the finest of products.

tonight was one of those nights — the testing nights filled with back to back experimental phases within putting his product to work.

a recent partner he’d just adopted to the group had dropped off one of those familiar, brown boxes you always saw him organizing here and there. the moment he brought it through the door, he practically tore it open like a ravaging animal hungry for prey.

you could remember how excited he was to show you the new items that would soon be appearing on his roster, but you also remembered how much of a character he was when he was high. not only did he get giggly, chattier than usual, and playful— but he also got painfully horny. any little move or phrase leaving your lips had his cock thumping against his briefs at a rapid pace.

kind of like right now.

you’re seated on his lap, eating from the bowl of popcorn you'd made moments before as some cheesy action movie drew your attention. the edibles you'd eaten earlier had finally kicked in, followed by the sudden hunger you'd gotten.

after a few bites, you can feel toji shifting uncomfortably beneath you. your mind immediately goes to the thought of his legs falling asleep, but that thought quickly fades as toji begins to grip your hips even tighter than before, “are you alright, baby? am i hurting you?” you inquire, tilting your head to the side and looking sympathetically at him. toji shakes his head, still remaining silent as he begins to slip his hand between your pants and underwear.

your eyes roll, “tojiii, you said it was movie night,” your whines only encouraged him more. he starts to rub circles around your clit, your dampened panties eventually stringing his fingertips with your slick.

“did i say that? i don’t remember.”

without another thought, your head is flung back. his quick fingers felt too good against you, causing your body to jolt. “we’re going to miss the good parts,” you complain, but he snatches his hand away from your dripping cunt and places a light smack on it instead.

“stop talking. watch the movie.”

his harsh tone unintentionally causes your eyes to return to the action-packed scene that has been causing commotion throughout your home. the weed in your system was already sending shivers down your spine, but his fingers playing a sweet melody with your pussy was causing much more.

“t-toji, please—“

your pussy receives yet another slap, leaving you itching and craving more. “be quiet. do you really wanna’ misbehave right now?” his question and subsequent finger entering your pussy caught you completely off guard, making your chest rumble with a loud moan.

“can you be good for me, sweetheart?” he asks, and you rapidly nod your head as an answer, “use your words. don’t play with me.”

toji deliberately thrusts upward slowly, allowing his hips to move to the point where his covered cock rubbed against your exposed folds. even though his fingertips are still fully plugged into you, you start to grind back onto him— eager to feel something more than just this.

“can't hear me or somethin’? you’re doin’ all that movin’ like you wanna’ cum, but you’re not listenin’ to me,” he stresses, moving his fingers around to meet the rhythm of your hips.

“toji, you’re being mean—“ after two minutes of trying to get an answer out of you, the third smack to your cunt gets it. you try to pull him from between your legs by closing your eyes and grabbing his wrist, but he manages it for you.

as he begins to lower his pants, you’re ifted from his lap. he motions for you to kneel, and you naturally do so. you give your boyfriend one last glance before snagging his cock with your hand as your knees come into contact with the cool flooring. his skin was soft despite the fact that he was hard in your palm. “open,” he murmurs.

and you do.

toji reaches over and pulls a pre-rolled blunt from his ashtray before lighting the end as it sat between his lips. he takes a pull, gathering as much as he could before swiveling it around in his mouth as if it were mouthwash. you assumed he was doing some sort of trick, but he catches you off guard when he grabs you by the chin.

he lifts your head up to meet his gaze and leans in for a kiss, but he stops before his lips could touch yours. you then close your eyes as you feel toji begin to blow the smoke into your mouth.

gladly taking it, you pucker your lips to inhale it better. this almost immediately turns into a heated makeout session, but toji becomes a bit too impatient for your touch, “c’mon. put your mouth on it.”

“you started it,” you giggle and that’s when he stuffs your mouth full. he smiles down at the way your lips wrap around the head— so full and soft, gliding up and down his length and taking him down your throat with such ease and greed.

the back of your thighs rest on your calves as you gulp as much of his cock down as you could. drool trailed from the corners of your mouth and spattered onto the floor beneath you as you whimper and gag from the tip of him hitting the back of your throat.

“f-fuck, yn. your throat is so warm, baby.”

the sounds of your gawking and his moaning was enough to make toji fuck your face. there wasn’t much warning, but the tip of his cock hitting your tonsils told you just how needy he really was. his hands find their way to the pretty locs you’d gotten not too long ago— his personal favorite hairstyle of yours— and twists them into his fist as he bobs your head up and down, “a-ah shit. just like that— fuck yes.”

you continue your rhythm, head circling as you slurp the mixture of precum and your own saliva from the base of his cock. the grip he has on your hair is tight— painful, even, but you wanted nothing more than to see him cum.

“make me fuckin’ cum, yn. daddy’s so close, just let me cum for you, why don’t ya’?” he bites down on his lower lip, yanking your head between his legs as the fire in his lower abdomen begins to come to light, “g-god that shit feel’s s’ good.”

he was close, closer than ever. he knew it would only take one last lick of your tongue before— “ah, ah, f-fuck. i’m fuckin’ cumming,” he warns. before you knew it, warm ropes of toji’s seed fills your mouth. a string a groans followed by the sound of him calling out your name repeatedly, holding onto the back of your head as he empties every last bit.

he stretches his arms above his head as his legs continue to shake from the powerful orgasm he just had. you lift from your knees, beginning to straddle him, and although toji was already sensitive enough, he need to be inside of you.

“open up for me,” he demands this while his hands sit on your lower back. his fingers draw circles on the arch in your spine as you tease your entrance with his tip. hissing, you slowly ease down onto your boyfriend’s lap. the veins that decorated his girth carved their shape along your walls, your stomach fluttering.

you begin to bounce and toji chuckles at how greedy you’d gotten. you were pulling at his hair, biting at his neck, and sucking him in all at once while still trying to beg for more, “i-it’s so deep toji! nnn- you feel so good,” you whine.

you feel his lips smearing kisses all over your chest and neck, brushing and leaving love bites here and there. the sounds of the movie you were once watching is now drowned completely out, the only sound being skin to skin and groans. the sticky mess along with the sweat dripping from your bodies was creating a steamy, out of body sensation.

“i love this slutty little pussy,” he expresses with a gutteral moan, hips still rutting into you, “make us cum, i know you can do it.” between his thrusts into and your slams onto him, you’d be cumming in no time. he just fit so well. toji was the perfect shape, perfect length— he was made for you.

“tojiii, m’ close.” your breath hitches and so do his thrusts. toji’s palm moves to the back of your head, holding you close enough to feel his breath trickling your top lip. he holds eye contact, his dark irises almost piercing a hole through you. this is when toji takes notice of the light tears streaming down your face as your orgasm, and his own, funnily catch up to you both.

he smashes his lips against yours and bites down on the bottom. he tastes the tang of the tears that’d reached your swollen mouth, “cum with me, baby. please fucking cum w-with me.”

beyond gorgeous.

“fuck! ooh— m’ cumming! m’cumming!” you chant, and when you do, he finishes too. you feel his warmth spurt into your belly as toji clutches on to you as if his life depended on it. you feel him completely empty himself inside of you with pure glee spread across his face.

once he diles down, he brings his eyes back to yours. toji’s head rests on your chest as he catches his breath, “guess that strain was pretty strong, huh?”

#☆彡saturn writes :)#toji x black reader #toji x fem! reader #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x black y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x fem! reader

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wonfilms · 2 months

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enhypen & the ways they say "i love you" (without actually saying it) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

warnings : n/a : gen: fluff a/n: im back?!? after almost 6 mths .. but yes i'm back, (finally..) school has been HELL, BUT yrhome is back in action, i hope this is alright even though i feel a little rusty hehe, reblogs & comments are very much appreciated

heeseung -> "this song reminded me of you." - heeseung's love is constant, never once wavering. he sees you in every little part of his life.. he thinks about you constantly never once do you leave his mind he discovers a melody that seems to capture you within mere musical notes... so he shares it with you.. each song that make his heart swell just like you do.

jay -> "you wanted this right? i saw you looking at it at the store last weekend?" - jay's love is bold yet gentle, almost like a first love and a last kiss paired in one. jay remembers everything about you, your favourite colour, which perfume you use, what shoe size you are, what makes you tick and what comforts you after a long day? so it's no surprise that when he caught you eyeing that lipstick at the store he just had to buy it for you, whatever makes you happy is all he wants.

jake -> "give me one more kiss, please babe just one more..??" - jake's love is exhilerating and yet comfortable all at once, like the fond nostalgia of a childhood fair-ground ride. he should be out of bed right now, rushing to get ready for work but he can't help himself.. not when you look that damn beautiful laid in his arms , he kisses you softly letting the feeling linger. just one more kiss, he pleads.. but you both know that's never the case

sunghoon -> "have you eaten yet baby?" - sunghoon's love is soft, sweet and it feels warm like a bowl of soup. he never fails to ask you whether you'd eaten yet, always. he takes comfort in knowing you're still safe and healthy. he shows his love through words, whispered confessions against your neck and gentle squeezes of your hip as he kisses you to sleep at night.

sunoo -> "i wish i could see you all the damn time" - sunoo's love tastes like oranges and frozen grapes. he didn't think he'd ever want someone's company like he wants yours.. he needs you he wants you by his side even more with every passing minute. it feels almost natural to see your smile and your pretty eyes every minute of the day, it's like a second nature to him to admire you. jungwon -> "i wanna grow old with you one day" - jungwon's love is like rainy days spent cuddling next to the fire. he's never been one to shy away from the words 'i love you', but that's probably just because it's you. hell, love is terrifying but he knows you're the one for him. his other half the last little missing puzzle piece in his life, you're perfect for him. niki -> "you make me wanna try." - niki's love is like a gentle studio ghibli movie. it's not perfect but yet it still it. his love is encouragement, soft words of affection exchanged in private and heart-wrenching embraces that make you feel like melting. you're both young, and maybe thats completely okay, love is also helping the person you love most grow and change and still staying by each other's side.

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hooniblr · 2 months

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 (𝐘𝐄𝐓) 𝐈𝐈

PAIRING ▸ nishimura riki x female feader

WORD COUNT ▸ 4.8k

GENRE ▸ high school au, brother’s best friend au, fluff, angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ After spending the better part of your adolescent life crushing on your brother’s best friend, you finally decide to call it quits on your unrequited feelings when you come to the conclusion that’s all they will ever be—unrequited. The only problem is that getting rid of these feelings that have been lurking in your heart is much more difficult than you anticipated. Especially because the object of your affections keeps making it hard for you to move on.

Or the one where Riki resorts to blackmail.

WARNINGS ▸ reader as sunoo’s twin sister, riki as sunoo’s bestie, feat. some of the newjeans members, reader is an expert at hiding her feelings, misunderstandings, pining, slow burn, blackmail, broken promises, hurt feelings

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NOTE — thank you for all the love on part one! hope you guys like this part. mdni banner made by @/benkeibear

“You still haven’t told Sunoo about your new hobby?”

“No. I know he would just worry about me getting hurt.” You sighed. “So would my parents.”

Minji furrowed her eyebrows. “Don’t you think hiding it is doing too much? You’re not doing anything bad. It’s just jiujitsu.”

“You know how my mom gets. She wants me to do things ‘normal girls do’ like that’s going to make me act like her friends’ kids. Remember when she tried to make me join the choir?”

“Yeah.” Danielle grimaced. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get so embarrassed.”

You and Minji shared her grimace. Your audition probably went down as the worst in the history of the entire school. “I’m actually kind of good at jiujitsu, and I like doing it. If I tell Sunoo about it he won’t let me go back to the dojo ever again.”

Minji sighed. She knew you were right. Having an overprotective family would be the death of you.

“Come on.” She said, hoping to distract you from your inner turmoil. “Let’s go eat in the courtyard.”

“You don’t want to go to the cafeteria?”

"Riki’s in there.” Danielle reminded you. “So is Heeseung.”

“True.” You pursed your lips. “I’ll meet you guys out there. I have to drop off Sunoo’s stuff first.”

The hallway was relatively empty when you wandered up the stairs. You were glad no one was around because it would make it easier to drop off your brother’s bag—which he had inconveniently forgotten in the morning, again. When you glanced inside his classroom, it was completely alone, much to your relief.

After dumping the bag on his desk, you made a run for it. Sure, you were probably being overly paranoid, but you couldn’t risk running into Riki. Especially not after last night.

“Kim Y/N.”

Hearing your full government name made you freeze just before you reached the stairs. Your heart and mind had memorized that smooth melody long ago. You slowly turned around, heart stuttering despite knowing what sight awaited you. Riki’s usually sweet gaze had been replaced with one that was full of disapproving anger and something else; something you couldn’t discern.

“Riki.” You said his name breathlessly.

Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed his suspicions. Up until now, you never had a problem being around him, or even looking at him. Right now, Riki could see that you were itching to get away from him as if he was some sort of parasite. He knew your awkward behavior was nothing more than a byproduct of hanging around that bastard Lee Heeseung, and it only made his anger grow immutably.

“I saw you last night.” Riki’s tone was accusing, knowing he was approaching the situation in a completely immature way. “I know you haven’t been hanging out at the internet cafe. You go to that dojo with Lee Heeseung.”

Out of all the things you expected Riki to say, him bringing up your secret jiujitsu lessons wasn’t on the list. It was clear that he disapproved, but you weren’t sure why he seemed as upset as he did. Did he know Sunoo wouldn’t approve as well? They truly were best friends. You were glad to see that the loyalty wasn’t just a one-way street despite the fact that it was now backfiring on you.

And so, like a deer caught in headlights, you could only blink at him bovinely as he gave you a stare that demanded answers.

“Does Sunoo know what you’ve been doing instead of going home?”

Your eyes widened in realization. Riki was going to rat you out.

“Please don’t say anything.” You begged, clasping your fingers together to form the classic pleading gesture. “I know he wouldn’t approve, and if he tells our parents then I won’t be able to go anymore.”

Riki clenched his jaw. Was being able to see that idiot so important to you? Enough to risk getting in trouble with your parents? He wondered how you would feel about Heeseung if you knew the truth about him. You definitely wouldn’t feel the same way about him if you found out what kind of person he really was.

Even so, your shimmering eyes had him thinking twice about ruining what you had with Heeseung. He could see that you were clearly infatuated with that idiot to the point that you were willing to upset your entire family by seeing him. The fact that you were even willing to go to that stupid dojo with him was enough indication of how much you liked him. (As if you avoiding him wasn’t proof enough.)

“Well—”

“Y/N!”

Sunoo bounded over to you with his rowdy friends following close behind him. Your panic-filled eyes glanced from Riki to your brother. You tried to straighten out your dismayed expression with a tense smile.

“Twin!” You exclaimed a little too happily. “I left your bag on your desk.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot—”

“I’ll see you at home.” You rushed out, not giving either boys a chance to respond before you took off down the stairs.

Luckily for you, neither of them followed after you. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you looked back just to make sure. At that moment, you bumped into someone and nearly fell back. Stumbling awkwardly, you started to apologize for not watching where you were going.

“It’s okay. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Seeing Sunghoon’s worried expression almost made you roll your eyes. Instead, you told him you were fine and kept walking because the last thing you needed was to deal with your ex. Unfortunately, you weren’t allowed a stealthy getaway.

“What’s going on between you and Lee Heeseung?”

You glanced over your shoulder, annoyed that Sunghoon was following you. It would’ve been easy to ignore him, but you knew he wasn’t going to leave you alone since he had asked you in that nosy tone of his. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you two at Jake’s party.” Sunghoon sounded insecure or something close to it. “Do you like him or something?”

An incredulous scoff tumbled past your lips. “What do you care? Are you jealous?”

“Yes—extremely.” His pout was objectively cute, but you couldn’t see it as anything other than annoying. “Since when did you start hanging around Lee Heeseung?”

It was usually easy for you to hide your feelings, but now your indignation was the one taking control as you turned to face him. “Around the time you stopped.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. If Heeseung had mentioned their brief friendship to you, it’s because he had explicit trust in you. The theory that he concocted the other night couldn’t be too far off from the truth. It made him feel a terrible dread in his gut. Heeseung wasn’t the type to reveal any private information, which brought Sunghoon back to the conclusion that you weren’t just anyone his former friend.

“So, Heeseung likes you then.”

You don’t think you had ever heard anything more ridiculous. It was obvious that Sunghoon was still too self absorbed to see that Heeseung had been pining for Song Yura for the longest time. His unrequited feelings are the reason you two had gotten so close. Not that it was any of your ex’s business.

You scoffed quietly before an apathetic smile spread on your lips. “Think what you want.”

Sunghoon frowned. As he went to say something else, you went out the exit leading to the courtyard. He could only watch you walk away from him with a disheartened expression.

Thinking you had successfully gotten him to back off was your first mistake.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Which movie did you pick?” You wondered as you put the popcorn bag in the microwave.

“I didn’t pick one yet.” Sunoo said from the living room. “Riki’s coming over so I wanted to let him decide on the movie too.”

You nearly dropped the bowl you pulled out of the cabinet. Maybe you should’ve felt upset that Sunoo conveniently forgot to mention that his bestie was crashing your movie night, but you were too panicked to feel angry or anything related to that emotion. It didn’t even have to do with the fact that you were practically in love with Riki. Instead it was about the not-so-small tidbit that he knew your secret and was probably planning to tell your brother all about it.

“I thought you said it was just going to be us tonight.” You did your best to sound upset although you were sure your voice was shaking.

“Riki wanted to hang out. You know I can’t tell him no.” Sunoo pouted as you went to sit by him. “You’ve never had a problem with him coming over before.”

That was before you decided to get over him.

“The three of us haven’t hung out together in a while. It’ll be good for him to come over, anyway. He could use your advice.”

“My advice?” You mimicked curiously. “Advice for what?”

“He got a love letter from Song Yura today.” Sunoo said with a giddy laugh. “He didn’t let me see what it said, but I think she confessed to him.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a love letter.” You said pathetically, knowing it was your wishful thinking doing the talking.

“But she even has his helmet. Not his extra one, his favorite one. I’m sure it won’t be long before they’re a couple.”

It was hard not to feel like a deflated balloon with what Sunoo was saying. Not only because Song Yura was obviously someone very special to Riki (he didn’t let just anyone touch that helmet), but because you knew Heeseung was going to feel heartbroken once he heard the news.

You couldn’t be surprised that this happened. It wasn’t like this was the first time Riki had gotten a girlfriend. He’d had plenty between the time you’d met him and now.

So, why did this feel so much worse than all the other times?

The title of the movie the boys selected went over your head. Your inner turmoil had the knots in your stomach tightening with every passing second. You weren’t sure whether to focus on the fact that Riki might expose your secret or that one of the prettiest girls in school had confessed to him. The choice wasn’t left to you as your mind alternated from thinking about the two problems periodically.

Your eyes were focused on the TV screen, but you were too busy thinking to see any of what was actually happening. Honestly, it was a good thing that Riki could potentially get into a relationship. If he did, it would be the thing to help her move on once and for all. Although watching him end up with someone else wouldn’t be painless, it would for the best. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

Also, should Riki start to date Yura, then maybe he would be too caught up in his relationship to bring up your secret. Or maybe that was more of your wishful thinking since Riki was much more bothered about your jiujitsu lessons than you expected. You still couldn’t figure out why. It couldn’t be just because of his friendship to your brother. No matter how many times you went over it in your head, you couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

Somehow, the movie ended before you could focus on it. With Sunoo telling Riki to pick another movie because he needed to use the restroom, you mindlessly wandered into the kitchen under the pretense of making more popcorn for the second movie. In reality, you needed to put some distance between you and Riki. Being alone with him wouldn’t do your resilience any good, and it definitely wasn’t helping your nerves. Unfortunately for you, nothing ever went as planned.

“We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Your hands stilled. Calm down. Breathe. You pressed the start button on the microwave before turning around to face Riki.

His thick eyebrow was raised, and that domineering look from before made an appearance once again. “Are you really going to keep doing jiujitsu even though you know your family won’t approve?”

You almost told him that he also did plenty of things that his family didn’t approve of, but you knew it wasn’t smart to get snarky with the person who knew your secret. Telling him the real reason you were practicing jiujitsu was out of the question. So, left without any other choice, you decided to bring up your friend in the hopes that he would leave it alone.

“It’s something fun to do with Heeseung.”

Astoundingly enough, Riki’s stern gaze became even more lethal. “Can’t you do something else with that idiot?” His voice rose unintentionally. “How can you want to keep learning jiujitsu just because that’s what—?”

“Shh!” You hissed in a panic, practically pouncing on Riki as you placed your hands over his mouth. “Sunoo will hear you!”

As you looked towards the living room worriedly, Riki found himself frozen in shock. Your soft hands pressing against his lips had his heart pounding harshly against his chest. From this close, he could see every single one of your eyelashes and the deep color of your pretty eyes. He couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, only focusing on the close proximity. You smell invaded his senses and disarmed him completely.

When you looked back at Riki, you noticed he was looking at you strangely. It was then that you realized how close you two were. Literally chest to chest. You jumped back, feeling a bit of heat spread on your face.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “Just please don’t say anything.”

You rushed back into the living room before Riki could say anything else. All you could focus on was your erratic heartbeat that wouldn’t slow down. How could he affect you so much without even doing anything? It wasn’t fair because you were sure your presence didn’t have the same affect on him. The heat on your face hadn’t gone down even when Riki came back with the popcorn. If he noticed how flustered you looked, he didn’t mention it.

“Y/N.” Sunoo said as he walked back into the living room. “What’s this? Is it yours?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw Sunoo holding up your gi. You nearly choked, not knowing what to say since you were practically caught red-handed. Since when did he go through the laundry?

“That’s Danielle’s.” Riki said suddenly. “She asked me to get it for her when I came over.”

Without any hesitation, Sunoo handed the garments to Riki. While you were grateful that he hadn’t outed your secret, the nerves of him possibly changing his mind had you fidgeting uncomfortably as the two boys picked another movie. All throughout the comedy, you kept stealing glances at Riki. He didn’t look at you once, and you mentally cursed him for being so good at hiding his emotions.

When it was time for Riki to leave, you offered to see him out. Instead of walking him to the door, you stepped out into the cold night with him. You stood in front of Riki, nervously playing with the hem of her hoodie.

“Thank you for not telling my brother.”

“I’ll keep your secret.” Riki promised. “But you have to do something for me.”

You should’ve been suspicious at the tone he’d gotten, but you were too caught up with his promise not to tell anyone about your jiujitsu lessons. “What’s that?”

“I won’t tell anyone about what you’ve been up to as long as you stop going to that dojo and stop seeing Lee Heeseung.”

You thought he was joking until you that saw his somber expression didn’t change. Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. She could understand the first part of his request, but what did you being friends with Heeseung have to do with anything?

“What? I can’t just—”

“Should I let your brother know what you’ve been doing, then?” Riki raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

Your shoulders sagged. “No.”

Riki held back a grin, but only just. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” You agreed reluctantly.

His signature smirk made an appearance. He lifted his hand and rested it on your head, softly ruffling the top of your hair. “Good. See you later.”

“Wait!” You called, pointing at the garments in his hand. “My gi!”

Riki glanced down at the clothing in his hands. Again, he looked up at her with that smirk of his. “This? I think I’ll hold onto it for the time being.” His smirk seemed mocking now, but it was still fatally attractive. Damn him. “Go back inside. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

And so, you watched Riki get on his motorcycle and take off with a sulky scowl on your face.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Y/N.”

Riki was leaning against his motorcycle as he beckoned you over to where he was. You hesitantly walked over, feeling your palms begin to perspire. Ever since you decided to go behind his back and still go to the dojo with Heeseung, you felt like you were on the brink of being caught.

“Where are you heading?”

To the dojo. “Oh... I was just going home since Minji and Danielle can’t hang out today.”

“Let’s get something to eat.” Riki’s words left no room for any disagreements. He handed you his spare helmet casually. “Hop on.”

You shook her head frantically. “Oh—no. You don’t have to. I’m not—”

“Come on.” He insisted, forcing the helmet into your hands. “Don’t you want your gi back?”

You scowled. “Fine.”

After putting on the helmet, you hesitantly got on the back of his motorcycle. It was embarrassing since you didn’t exactly fit on the edge of the bike, though, it mostly had to do with you sitting as far from him as the narrow seat would allow. You were sure you’d turn into putty if you had any physical contact with him.

“Hold on tight.”

You grimaced, torn between playing out the one fantasy that had been replaying through your head for months and your rational need to set boundaries so your feelings would stop growing. You awkwardly grabbed Riki’s shoulders, hoping that you wouldn’t fall off once he took off.

Riki laughed at your obvious unease. He decided to do a break check so you’d realize that not holding onto him wasn’t an option. Suddenly, you were flung forward. The front of your body collided with Riki’s firm back with a loud thud. For a moment, you thought you had hurt him until you saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. You glared at the back of his head. “Riki!”

“I told you to hold on.” Riki said, the lilt in his voice was teasing yet there was also a serious undertone to his words. “Do you want to fly off?”

You almost told him that you wouldn’t if he went slow enough. However, you kept your mouth shut and hoped your obsession wouldn’t grow as you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his torso. You gently rested your head against his back and closed your eyes. Just for a second, you told yourself. For a small moment, you would let go of the worries that burdened you and simply enjoy being close to the boy you liked.

Something unfamiliar tugged at Riki’s chest. His head shifted a little, wanting to catch a glimpse of the girl on his back. Your arms were secured around his waist and you were leaning on him, but he suddenly found that it wasn’t enough. Somehow he wanted you even closer. Riki cleared his throat quietly, pushing the unfamiliar thoughts out of his mind for the time being.

And so, you two sped off, neither of you noticing the boy who had been watching their entire interaction from afar.

You uncomfortably picked at the food in front of you. Had this been last year, you would’ve been overjoyed at sharing a meal with Riki (part of you still was), but now you couldn’t help but feel like this was all some sort of trap. Like he knew you had gone against your promis and was waiting on Sunoo to show up to tell him everything.

“Are you not hungry?” Riki wondered with a slight frown. “Bulgogi is your favorite.”

Honestly, you felt like puking up all the butterflies in her stomach, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m not really hungry.” Your words were hardly convincing, but Riki seemed to believe you. “I got used to not eating as much because of jiujitsu.”

Riki’s jaw ticked in annoyance. “Is that really all it is?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “I swear.”

That aggravated look he had been getting a lot lately found its way onto his face again. “Are you sure it’s not because you can’t see Heeseung?”

Your reluctance to answer the question had irritation crawling up his skin like a parasite. He knew that’s what it was. The shy look on your face was all the indication he needed to know you were thinking about that idiot. Riki only asked you because he hoped that you would tell him. Once you did, he would tell you that Heeseung wasn’t worth your time.

“It’s not like that.” You told him, confused that he was getting so worked up.

“Do you like him?” Riki demanded, needing to hear those words come out of your mouth. “Tell me the truth.”

His tone caught you off guard. You chewed on your bottom lip, wondering if you should mess with him a little since he took your stuff. Maybe it was petty of you, but you decided to do it anyway. You gave him a half-smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “That’s a secret.”

Riki was sure his jaw would snap at any moment from the amount of pressure he was putting on it. “Just know you’re out of his league. You’re way too pretty to settle for him of all people.”

You felt like your heart was ready to burst at any moment from how fast it was beating. Damn him. Damn your feelings for him. You were aware Riki only spoke his words out of kindness (and out of his dislike for Heeseung), but your dumb heart couldn’t tell the difference. It was clear that Riki didn’t see you the way he saw Song Yura. To him, you would always be Sunoo’s sister. But for a brief moment, you allowed herself to believe that he sincerely meant what he said.

Your shocked gaze had Riki coughing nervously. It wasn’t the first time he called you pretty, but this time it felt different from all the previous times. His words seemed more... intimate, somehow.

You didn’t realize you were full-on staring until the chime of a text notification pulled you out of the trance that was Riki’s intense gaze. Your jaw nearly dropped when she saw Heeseung’s name on the screen. He didn’t text you very often, and when he did it was only ever to tell you he wouldn’t be at the dojo.

Where are you?

You briefly glanced at Riki before quickly typing out a reply.

I’m at the corner restaurant near the dojo. I’ll be there soon.

You put your phone back on the table, feeling like there was an impending doom waiting for you. There was this inkling you had that nothing good could come from Heeseung’s ominous message. Even so, you chose to ignore it for the time being.

“So.” Riki cleared his throat, not knowing why he suddenly felt so shy. “What’s so great about your little crush, anyway?”

You contemplated your next words. Riki probably thought you were going to tell him about Heeseung, but he could never know what you were about to say was all about him. It was the only opportunity you would have to tell Riki how you really felt about him.

“Ever since we met, he’s been nothing but kind to me. He sees me for who I am.” The corner of your mouth lifted a bit. “Some people think he’s a jerk, but he isn’t really. He’s actually really sweet and caring.”

Riki’s expression hardened. Sweet? Caring? Yeah, right. He was sure that he could be much more sweet than Heeseung who had the emotional range of a fish.

“What about you, Riki?” You questioned despite knowing his answers would only hurt your feelings. “Everyone’s talking about how much you like Yura. What kind of person is she?”

Riki raised his eyebrows, baffled. “What? I don’t—”

He cut himself off when he saw a familiar (and unwelcome) presence approach the table. If you thought his gaze was harsh before, it didn’t compare to the murderous look that crossed his face in that instant. You followed his gaze, mouth dropping open in surprise when you saw Heeseung standing about two feet away from the table.

“H-Heeseung?” You choked out, unable to believe that he was actually there.

“I got worried when you didn’t meet me at the dojo like we’d planned.” He said like his words weren’t the equivalent of dropping a bomb of chaos.

You could’ve choked Heeseung right then and there. What the hell did he think he was doing? You gave him a look, one that you hoped he would understand. Either he didn’t notice it or he didn’t care. You were willing to bet it was the latter.

“What are you doing here?” Riki’s voice was deceptively calm. “Don’t tell me you’re following her.”

In the few times you witnessed the two boys around each other, you knew it always got ugly fast. You could see where this encounter was heading, and it was heading there quick. Luckily for you, your saint of a brother decided to call you right then.

“Sunoo!” You hastily answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Mom wants us home for dinner. She made ribs.”

“Okay. I’ll be there right away.” You hung up before he could say anything else. You scrambled to grab your bag. “I have to go—family emergency. See you guys later!”

With that, you ran away from the uncomfortable scene that was unfolding without looking back once.

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You waited at the front of your school anxiously. Riki hadn’t mentioned anything to Sunoo yet, and you were hoping you could convince him not to with a bit of begging. The seconds ticked by, and while you still hadn’t seen his familiar motorcycle, you saw the person who had dug you into a deeper hole.

“Lee Heeseung!” You hissed as you pulled him to the side. “What was that stunt you pulled yesterday? You know I can’t have anyone find out that I’m learning jiujitsu.”

Heeseung looked unfazed as ever. “I just want to know what you’re doing. You said you were trying to get over Nishimura, but you were having a meal with him.”

Your right eye twitched. “That’s because he said he would give me back my gi!” You whisper-yelled, wanting to pull on the ends of your hair in frustration. “Which he didn’t, thanks to you.”

“I also wanted to ask him why he has a problem with us being friends. It’s not like you’re his little sister.”

You’re not sure why that made your anger simmer to a simple irritation. Also, Heeseung did sort of have a point. You laughed incredulously, shoving his shoulder a bit. “You’re so immature, Hee. You know he has a problem with it because he doesn’t like you.”

Heeseung highly doubted the only reason Riki didn’t want you two hanging out was because of their mutual dislike for each other. He knew that you probably wouldn’t figure that out any time soon because you were too overwhelmed with your own feelings, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find out the truth on your behalf.

Your smile was quick to slip off your face when you saw Song Yura staring your way. The heartbroken look she had her on her face caught you by surprise. Even worse, Riki was standing directly behind her. You felt herself panic. If there was any hope that your begging would convince him not to say anything, it was gone now. Now you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to crawl out of the hole you had dug yourself in.

Riki on the other hand could only look on with a glare. He had never planned on exposing your secret. It was only a pretense to get you to stop hanging around that prick, but now he could truly see that your feelings were stronger than your fear of getting in trouble. He had suspected that was the case for some time now, yet it still made him feel sick.

Why did it have to be Lee Heeseung of all people? Why couldn’t it be... anyone else?

Riki turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction, not knowing what to make of the heaviness in his chest.

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