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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless.

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

��I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.

He won’t let anyone take it from him.

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.

Bruce reaches a hand out.

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.

The orb in his hand moves.

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark.

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.

If anyone can, it’s Batman.

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

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nerdpoe · 5 months

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Damian Danny twin AU, Damian's first kill wasn't his first kill.

They were young, normally of age to be tucked into bed every night and throw tantrums if they saw a toy they wanted.

Instead, they were sent on a dangerous mission to prove their worthiness.

But Ra's set them up.

There was only one target. Whoever killed that target got to survive.

The worthy one.

Danyal got to the target first, but took a knife to the back in the process.

As he started to fade out, he told Damian to take credit for the kill. To leave him where he was.

Damian fought against it, but Danyal won out in the end.

Danyal didn't want to go in the Lazarus Pits. He felt like something would change if he went in them, and he would rather die and be left dead.

And Damian....

Damian granted his wish.

He left Danyal.

After he left, though, a nosy red-headed little girl from the hotel room next door dragged her parents to the murder scene, thereby leading to a chain of events that only Clockwork could have orchestrated.

Years passed, and Phantom rose in fame and recognition. He fought like a frenzied racoon on steroids, no matter how hard other heroes tried to teach him otherwise, and even though they'd passed by each other, Damian never made the connection.

Until Phantom had to actually fight for once.

Until Phantom used League Specific moves.

And then Ra's realized before Damian did.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic

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ramhaiba · 16 days

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𝖡𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗎 𝖦𝗈𝗃𝗈 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

Masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT a/n: this fic is a lot darker than normal of my work contains: noncon sexual themes, manhandling, breaking up, biting, oral (f receiving), baby trapping, modern au

The truth is, you should have broken up with Satoru Gojo a long time ago. Two years ago, the thought of even considering taking a break from Satoru would have sent you into a coma. Why wouldn’t you want to be known as ‘Satoru's girl?’ Being with a guy like him would cause no one to dare look at you in the wrong way.

Besides, he buys you things that cost more than your rent, and will refuse if you dare to give it back to him because you ‘don’t need such expensive things.’

So what exactly is wrong with dating Satoru?

Obsession.

“You’ve been spending so much time with your friends...sometimes I think you forget who your boyfriend is”

“Jealous? Me? Baby, it’s only because I care about you”

“You know I don’t like it when you’re away, it hurts me. Do you want to hurt me, Y/n?”

“You look great in that dress. But I feel like I should be the only person to see you in it. Why don’t you go change so you don’t embarrass me”

And the list goes on and on...and on…

If it wasn’t his words that would send you to this point, his constant touching, rubbing, groping, and kissing in public just to scare any guy in your five-mile radius away was something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

The final straw is when you heard furious knocking on your door, knocking so loud that you could have sworn that whoever was behind it would just kick it down, surprised that you could hear it with the storm outside. Unlucky for you, you were middle of a shower, not expecting to be bothered in the middle of the night. You were forced to wrap a towel around your torso, covering your chest to your upper thighs, and rushing down the stairs to open the door.

You slowly open the door for your boyfriend, his chest heaving as the rain pours down on his white hair.

“Satoru- wh-what’s wrong.” you stuttered, clenching the towel wrapped around your body.

“Bastard ” he muttered, stepping inside, letting his wet footprints stain your floors.

“What? Satoru, why are you even here- it’s late” you questioned, in disbelief.

“Tell me-tell me that he didn’t fuck you, Y/n. Please” Satoru begged, his hands gripping your shoulder as he forced you to the wall, blue eyes without a trace of sanity.

“Wh-what the fuck are you talking about “ you yelped, unaware of what put your boyfriend into such a manic episode.

“Is he still in the house? Huh? He is right?” Satoru started laughing, his head leaning into the crook of your neck,

God- at this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he bit your neck off.

“Satoru, you’re starting to scare me. Please just tell me what’s wrong and I can help you” you responded, trying to caress his face, only for him to pin your hands above your head.

“Nanami, you’re fucking him, right? Suguru saw bring you to your house. Holding hands or some shit. Looking too friendly” Satoru hissed, just the thought of you being touched by hands that didn’t belong to him sent waves of fury into him.

You didn’t even question why Suguru was watching you when he had no reason to be in your area-

Thinking back at it, you wondered if Satoru begged asked Suguru to watch you while he was too busy to do it himself.

“Nanami only came over because I asked him to help fix my door” you answered.

“Then what? You rode his dick as a reward?”

“Satoru, I would never” you argued.

“Then show me… Prove to me that you’d never betray me” he erupted, clicking his tongue

“Please” he added.

That’s when Satoru stepped away from you, knowing what you have to do, your hands shakily let the white towel around your chest slip off, falling onto the floor, using your forearms to cover your breast and pelvis. You turned your head to the side, finding it unbearable to watch his degrading facial expression as he examined every inch of your body, tears of embarrassment threatening to spill out of your eyes.

“What’s this,” Satoru asked, eyes hooded, his fingers prying your thighs apart, tracing over a faded bite mark.

“It’s from you, remember” you answered, voice cracking. Suddenly, you felt Satoru’s hands pull your face towards his, blue eyes locking with yours, refusing to let you look away, “want to bet on it?” he questioned.

You watched hopelessly as Satoru’s lips trailed down your chest to your inner thigh, his knees on the ground, stopping at the bite mark, his pupils dilating as he took a good look at it, before sinking his teeth right into it, causing you to yelp, tugging on his white hair, silently begging him to stop. And when he finally did, he pressed a wicked kiss on it, pulling back to analyze it,

“I knew it”

He smiled as he looked up at you from between your legs, pressing his chin on your thigh, “It’s a perfect match on my teeth, I knew you’d never cheat on me baby” he smiled. His hands rubbed your waist as your tears fell from your eyes, heart still racing from the rush of adrenaline.

Satoru didn’t mind you were crying, in fact, he thought you were always at your prettiest when crystal-clear salty tears dripped down your heated cheeks, eyelashes damp.

You decided to break up with Satoru somewhere public, a local cafe- you knew either way, he’d make a big scene but hopefully being in public would hold him back at least a little bit...

Your leg was shaking from underneath the table, hand holding your face as you waited impatiently for your late soon-to-be ex-boyfriend to arrive.

Just make it quick and straightforward- it’ll be like ripping off a band-aid! Except the band-aid is a dramatic, tall, white-haired and might scream at you in front of everyone for breaking his heart.

You felt arms wrapped around your shoulder, turning your head to the side to make eye contact with a Satoru, his lips curled in a smile, “Y/nnn! I hope you didn’t have to wait too long” he laughed, before letting you go and pulling out his seat.

“Suguru just kept bothering me, he keeps accusing me of drinking his protein shakes!” Satoru complained.

“But you do, Satoru” you commented.

“Yeah, but it still hurts being accused.” Satoru huffed, crossing his arms, and leaning back.

You took a deep breath, quick and straightforward y/n...

“Satoru, there’s a reason why I asked you to come here” you muttered, hands forming a fist on your lap.

Satoru noticed the change in the atmosphere, sitting up from his seat, slightly tilting his head down, dark shade tilting downwards to reveal his eyes.

“You’re making me nervous, Y/n. Did you find my browsing history or something?” Satoru teased, using humor to test how serious the conversation was going to be.

Unfortunately for him, you didn’t laugh at his joke, letting him know that he was going to be hit with something hard.

“Satoru, I think-I want to break up. Things between us aren’t working out anymore and that’s mainly b-because…because I don’t think I can keep up with your expectations..” You uttered, secretly praying for some miracle where Satoru Gojo would just shake your hand, wish you the best, and then walk away peacefully.

“And what exactly are these…’ expectations’ that I am asking you, Y/n?” Satoru asked, eyes narrowing, looking down at you, rolling his finger on the table.

“It’s like-” You clicked your tongue.

“You expect me to worship you or something. Because god forbid I don’t answer your text in five seconds o-or if I want to ask another man for directions? I don’t even remember the last time I got to spend time with my friends without y-you blowing up on me like a fucking lunatic” you ranted, years of frustration escaping your thoughts and into your words.

“Really? You’re breaking up with me because all I ask for is just a little reciprocation to all the things I do for you- the things I buy for you- the things I’ve done to protect you. ” Satoru laughed in disbelief.

“I never asked for all of that, Satoru. It’s all too much for me- “ you replied.

“ What? So you expect me not to love my girlfriend?” Satoru argued.

“This isn’t love- I feel like I’m drowning in you, Satoru. I need a break from your obsessive behavior"

“Obsessive?” Satoru repeated, clicking his tongue, looking around the cafe, in disbelief at what was occurring.

“You’re going to fucking regret even thinking of breaking up with me” he muttered, before getting up, without giving you a second glance, leaving you alone at the table, the golden bell at the door ringing as he left.

It took you ten minutes to muster up the courage to get up and leave the cafe, still processing today’s event.

----

You spent the entire month trying to recover your damaged social life, finally reconnecting with friends- who gave you the courage to finally erase any traces of Satoru Gojo on your phone, blocking all of his contacts, deleting every photo of him- even the ones where you looked good in.

You got a cardboard box and started stuffing any item in your room that even slightly reminded you of him, from the teddy bear he got you for your first date to the chapstick you brought because it was his favorite flavor.

You sealed the box of haunted memories with a big strip of duct tape, grabbing a sharpie and writing ‘DO NOT OPEN’ on the cardboard. You hesitated as you held the box in front of the trash can, hands shaking before settling for the box rot in the corner of your room instead of being thrown inside the trash can.

'You could always throw it out later' you reminded yourself.

-----

You woke up in the middle of the night, mouth dry, begging for a drop of water. You slowly slide out of the comfort of your bed, noticing that your cat is no longer sleeping beside you- which is slightly alarming but you shook it off as any real threat because ‘they're probably just in their litterbox or something.’

Your staircase let out drawn-out creaking sounds with every step you took, one hand holding onto the railing, and the other blindly searching for the light switch on the wall. Once you heard the satisfying click of the switch being flipped, that’s when you saw him, familiar white hair, tall, blue-eyed ex-boyfriend, standing in your living room, your oblivious cat rubbing against his leg. Satoru was holding a bouquet of red roses, looking up at you with a sadistic smile, “oh, looks like our princess is awake” he laughed.

Holy shit- how the fuck is he in your house at the middle of the night- He mailed you back the spare key you gave him, Fuck, You even changed your locks just incase.

Without another thought, you rushed back up your stairs, your foot never touching the living room’s floor. You desperately tried to make your way back into your bedroom, hearing the sound of Satoru’s footsteps chasing after you. You cried in relief as you managed to make it to your bedroom, instantly shutting and locking the door as you pressed your back against it, the sounds of your cries being muffled out by the thumping of Satoru’s fist banging at your door.

“Y/n, open the door. I just wanna apologize, baby” he laughed, his tone sounding sincere, as he was twisting the uncooperative doorknob.

“Leave me alone, Gojo- We’re over ” you shouted, hands shaking, your back being able to feel the door shake from Satoru’s assault.

“Gojo? Baby, don't call me by my last name. Just open the door and we can talk” Satoru replied.

“I-I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave right now” you shouted, your threat causing Satoru to go silent, the only noise you heard was his footsteps walking away from the door. You sighed in relief but decided to call the police regardless- he did just break into your house after all.

Still panicked by the whole encounter, you clumsily searched for your phone- which of course your cat knocked down somewhere.

You get on your knees, searching for your phone through the tiny sliver between your bed frame and the hardwood floor, hand blindly trying to grab for something in the darkness. Just as you felt the familiar rectangular device at your fingertips, a loud crashing noise erupted. Before you could even react, you were pulled off of the floor, back pressed against Satoru’s chest, his hands wrapping around your waist, lowering his head in the crook of your neck. You turned your head, noticing your door with a new hammer-shaped hole next to the door knob. Nanami really shouldn’t have left his toolbox the last time he came over to fix your door.

“Fuck, Y/n- You really like to make a guy work for his reward?” Satoru laughed in your ear, holding you tighter as you tried to squirm out of his grip.

“Gojo, let me go- you fucking psycho” you shouted, trying to kick him off of you, only to receive his teeth sinking into your neck, causing your whole body to tense up, words not being able to slip out of your mouth as your entire body was drowning in fear.

Satoru slowly pulled his teeth out of your tender skin, pressing a soft kiss to the mark before leaning his head over your ear, “Look at you, calling me Gojo? A psycho? Don’t you know you’re hurting my feelings?”

Suddenly, Satoru threw you on your bed, and before you could get up, he climbed over you, his forearm next to the sides of your face, his face centimeters away from yours, blue eyes staring down at you in disappointment.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you never really cared about how I felt. Y'know, I really tried to be a nice boyfriend. But it seems like stupid girls like you don’t realize when they have something nice” Satoru uttered. His whole demeanor feels so intense, causing you to look away from him to deal with the overwhelming anxiety he caused.

“Fucking look at me when I talk to you” Satoru snarled, grabbing your face, thumb rubbing your cheek as he clicked his tongue.

“Please don’t hurt me” you begged, voice cracking, hands shaking at your side, feeling like a rabbit that a snake had just trapped.

“Hurt you? Baby, I’m just going to give you what you asked for, was too nice to you before that’s why you left. Relationships are all about compromises right?” Satoru responded, his lips turning into a sadistic smile.

The sound of him attempting to unbuckle his belt caused your whole body to switch into fight mode.

You began thrashing your fist on his chest, chest heaving, shaking your head in disbelief as you begged him not to do whatever wicked thing he planned to do. You were using up all your energy trying your best to kick off a man who easily overpowered you.

He grabbed your neck lifted it up and then slammed it back onto the bed, the motion causing your headache and the tightness around your throat to become unbearable. “Do I have to tie you up? You know how much I love it when you’re scratching up my back, moaning like a hooker. But if you can’t be a good girl and take your punishment for throwing me out like fucking trash, I guess I’ll just have no choice but to wrap those pretty wrists with my belt” Satoru threatened.

Pleased by your silence - which was mostly caused by fear- Satoru’s hand dragged across your body, pulling up your shirt to get a good view of the breasts that he’s been stroking his cock to for the entire hellish month that he had without you, enjoying the feeling of groping the soft skin into his palms.

Once he was satisfied, he lowered himself down to your waist, slowly sliding your pants off your legs, while leaving a kiss on your hip.

“Fuck princess, I wish I could just ram my dick into that tight pussy right now and not stop- even if you’re crying and screaming my name” Satoru confessed, taking the hem of your panties between his teeth and then pulling them down.

“But then I guess I wouldn’t get to taste this sweet cunt” Satoru muttered between kisses along your inner thigh. With his strong hands holding onto your hips, Satoru lowered his head towards your cunt, his tongue flicking out to tease your clit before his tongue placed a teasing circular stroke.

You starring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pleasure but it’s too difficult it’s impossible really, when you and Satoru were dating, he’d eat you out to the point of overstimulation, where your legs would be shaking, eyelashes damped with tears, too fucked out to properly say words.

That's how he liked you- his dumb little girlfriend.

He knows your body more than you do, so that's how he knows when he should pull away just as you were so close to your orgasm, leaving you left dry and empty.

“My dumb girl, you think I’d let you cum for what you did to me?” Satoru laughed, leaning over, his face hovering over yours, blue eyes refusing you to look away. “Satoru- don’t do this” you begged, chest heaving.

“Don’t give me that look. You should have known this would happen. You’re not allowed to leave me not when I’ve given you fucking everything” Satoru began to shout, his anger slipping through the cracks of his comedic complex.

“Now—Now, it’s time to accept your punishment. “ Satoru huffed, leaning back, releasing his painfully hard cock out of the confinement of his boxer, stroking it to the sight of your exposed cunt. Then you felt Satoru push your shaking thighs apart, pressing his cock against your waiting cunt, slowly pushing into your entrance, immediately you cling onto your blankets, refusing to touch him.

He didn’t want to waste any more time, he was already nice enough to stretch you out. Well he had to- he wanted to punish you not fucking destroy you.

So to your torture, he pulled out of your cunt, only for him to slam back in, your entire body bouncing with the moment, gasping at the burning stretch.

He thrusts into your cunt relentlessly, pupils blown out like a predator finally feasting on its prey. His glare isn’t even focused on you, too distracted by the sight of your greedy cunt sucking every inch of him, “Fuck- you’re basically begging me to cum inside of you, right sweetheart?” Satoru huffed, experimentally pressing his thumbs over your clit, causing your breath to hitch.

“No-No don’t do that” you whined, the grip you had on your bedsheets tightening with anxiety. “Is that so?” Satoru cooed at your disagreement. He leaned over, his lips hovering over the shell of your ear, his chest pressing against yours, as he intertwined his hands with your uncooperative shaking hands.

“Then apologize” he voiced, laying his tongue flat on the side of your neck as he licked up a strip, shivers going down your spine. His offer isn't for himself to know that he won- he already knows that by the way he has you, all flustered and scared. His offer is for you to realize that you lost, that you were wrong to think that you could leave him.

“I-I’m so sorry, Satoru” you croaked, sucking up your pride, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck in hopes your affection would calm him down. “There’s my good girl. Only took a little push for her to come out” Satoru cooed, leaning over to press an ironic sweet kiss on your swollen lips. When the storm inside him finally seemed to calm down that’s when you felt a harsh thrust of his hips almost knock the air out of your lungs, causing you to erupt into a gasp, heart racing.

“M’sorry baby, I really thought an apology would calm me down. Just can’t forget all the bullshit you put me through for a whole month” Satoru huffed, each word with a ruthless snap of his hips. His pace is too intense, you're forced to hold onto him, clawing up his back, eyes rolling behind the back of your head as you shamelessly moaned.

You felt disgusted by him but there was a reason you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out that box, eradicate every trace of memory of him. You can lie all you want but a part of you is enjoying the feeling of being desired- needed like you were his oxygen. In a sense, you are his everything.

You hated the fact that he’d probably kill for you if you asked. Yet you knew he was the only person in your life who'd worship you to this level of extreme. You can't get that type of devotion anywhere.

“Shit- I almost forgot” Satoru laughed.

You felt the weight of the bed shift as Satoru got up, looking for something on the floor before picking up his discarded pants. You watched as he rummaged for something in his pant’s pockets before climbing back into bed. He gently picked up your right hand, then smoothly slipped on a golden ring on your finger.

“When you look at this engagement ring, I want you to remember

It’s not an obsession, sweetheart, it’s true love.”

#yandere x reader #yandere jjk x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere satoru gojo x reader

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cleo-fox · 3 months

Text

Conquer

Part 1 of 3

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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jungkookstatts · 4 months

Text

As Thunder Rolls

[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.

[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters

[Word Count]: 8,296

[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)

People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.

You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.

Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.

“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.

Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.

“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.

“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.

“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.

There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.

But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.

“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.

Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.

You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.

“Down there,” you corrected him.

“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.

“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”

You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.

Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.

“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.

The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.

Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.

“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.

His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.

“Thank you,” he softly said.

At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.

You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.

Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.

But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.

He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.

His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.

What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.

You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.

You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.

“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.

“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.

“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.

You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.

In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.

“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.

“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.

“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.

“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.

“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.

“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”

He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.

“It’s because I have no money, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.

You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.

“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”

“Your siblings?” he asks.

“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”

He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.

“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.

“No,” you laugh.

Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.

“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”

“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”

You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.

“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”

“For?” you peck his lips again.

“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”

You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.

“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”

“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.

___

Law school used to be interesting.

Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.

Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.

These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.

Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.

You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.

A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.

“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.

“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.

With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.

“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.

“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”

“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”

Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.

“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”

“It worked,” you kiss him again.

“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”

“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”

“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.

You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.

“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.

“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.

“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”

“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.

You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.

“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.

“What?” all four of you say at once.

“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”

“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.

“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.

“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.

“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”

Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.

“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”

—

You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.

Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.

He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.

“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.

He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?

“Baby, talk to m—”

“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.

“What?”

“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”

You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.

“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.

“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”

“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.

“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.

“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.

His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.

“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.

___

Dinner is awkward. So awkward.

It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.

Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.

Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.

You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.

Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.

“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”

Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.

“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.

“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”

“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.

“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.

You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.

“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”

The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.

After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.

“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.

“Father,” you try to stop him.

“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”

Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.

“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”

You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.

“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”

“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.

“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”

“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.

He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.

“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”

“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.

Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children with loads of worth to their names. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.

He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.

“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.

“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.

There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.

“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"

“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”

“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.

Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.

You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you’re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.

“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.

“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.

“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”

“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”

“It’s not enough,” he whispers.

“N-No,” you shake your head.

But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.

“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.

“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.

Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.

“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”

He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.

“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.

“Marry me,” you say it again.

He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.

“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You can,” he denies.

“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”

His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.

“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.

“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”

“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”

“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”

He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.

“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.

“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. Your job; your family. You. Your heart.”

A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.

“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress,” he whispers the last part. “Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”

“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”

He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.

He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips.

“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.

He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.

“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.

“Where?” you follow him.

“My place,” he looks back at you.

You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.

You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city.

His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away.

The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.

“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.

You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.

Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.

“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.

“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.

The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.

You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.

You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, and he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.

With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.

You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to find the zipper of your dress.

He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he plays with the zipper.

“Please, Tae,” you allow him.

He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.

You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric down your hips. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.

But despite the plainness, you watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath the rest of your clothes. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook your bra yourself.

It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.

“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”

Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it is the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body.

He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.

“Tae?” you cup his cheek.

He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.

With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.

Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.

“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.

Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.

It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.

Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.

“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.

Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.

“Yes,” you nod.

You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.

“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.

“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.

“A little,” you admit with a small smile.

“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.

“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.

He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”

His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.

“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.

“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.

He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.

“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”

“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.

“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.

“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”

You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.

“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.

“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.

His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.

He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.

“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.

He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”

He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.

“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.

“So?” he raises his own.

“Will you?”

“Will I…?”

“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.

“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”

“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.

“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”

You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.

“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.

“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.

___

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

653 notes · View notes

sweetlyskz · 8 months

Text

Emerald Gem||Chapter 2

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: Suggestive themes, language

Word count: 2.6k

Unedited

The next morning you wake like any other morning. When the roosters crow, you absentmindedly make your way downstairs, partially unaware of the mess you had made yesterday. The first floor was empty, not a single hybrid in sight. The house was quiet- a little too quiet. You began to make breakfast, cooking a meal for a family instead of just one. After searching the fridge, you grab about 10 eggs instead of just one and use all of your fresh bacon from the butcher shop in town. You also scrummaged through your cabinets for some flour. Maybe they'll like pancakes?

The first of the pack to wake up was the bunny hybrid. He told you his name was Jungkook. Sleepy-eyed, he tiptoes his way to the kitchen, following the aroma of bacon and eggs.

"Mm, smells good", he mumbled, sneaking a piece of bacon off of one of the plates. You smacked his hand lightly.

"Not so fast", you warned him. "Go wake the others and tell them to come to the dining table. I wanna talk about something while we eat breakfast."

He gulped. The last time someone just wanted to talk, they were put on the streets and being hunted like rabid animals. He was praying to whoever above that this was not the case.

"It's nothing bad", you promised him, as if you could sense his nervousness. "I meant what I said the other day. You all can stay as long as you please. I just want to go over some ground rules and make sure your stay is as comfortable as possible."

He nodded, making his way back to the room to wake up his pack mates. While he gathered up the crew, you set the table, laying out two plates of bacon, two stacks of pancakes, a plate of eggs, and a glass bottle of homemade maple syrup. You placed a fork and knife at each chair and a pile of napkins on the center of the table, close enough for everyone to reach.

One by one, everyone made their way to their seats. First was Jungkook who rushed to the table after informing the other breakfast was served. Next was timid Fox, Hoseok. He took the seat closest to you. Trailing after him was a panther hybrid, Yoongi. You haven't had the chance to talk to him yet, but it seemed like he wished to keep it that way. He took the seat furthest away from you. The pack leader, Namjoon, came out last with two other wolves and a sugar glider.

"Thank you for the hospitality", said Namjoon. He sat directly across from you, speaking with his head hanging low. Now that you think about it, none of them made eye contact when speaking to you, head always in their lap fiddling with thier fingers.

"No need to thank me", You replied, scraping some scrambled eggs onto their plates. The bunny looked at them with disgust, picking up his fork and picking through it, not ever putting the fork to his lips.

"Is it not up to par?" You asked him. Maybe the eggs went bad. Sometimes you don't get to the eggs fast enough. He shook his head.

"No! I bet there great... I just don't really like eggs", He whispered, as if he said something he shouldn't. However, The pack omega, Jin, was quick to scold him.

"Don't be a brat", he reprimanded. "Eat the food that miss y/n took her time to cook for us. She's been gracious enough to let us stay here. Don't give her a reason to kick us out!"

You interrupted his scolding. "It's okay! there's plenty more for you to eat here, as long as you still get your protein."

They looked at you in confusion, and you returned the same look. If you were being honest, it scared you, listening to Jin talk to him that way. Did they actually believe that you would put them out over something so trivial? Everyone went silent, slow to touch their plates.

"Just to be clear, I would never kick you guys out. This is your home now, if you so choose to stay. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me. Tell me if you do or don't like something. I want to get to know you guys more, now that we're roommates and everything."

"T-thank you miss y/n", Jin uttered. "We've never been treated like..."

Like people, he wanted to say.

"And another thing", you continued with your speech. "You don't have to call me that. I would actually prefer you just call me by my name. Just y/n will do just fine." You showed your bright smile to let them know you weren't upset.

"okay... y/n" he hesitated. You could see a slight smile sneak up on his face, but he quickly pushed it away. You took it as some progress. Instead of putting everything on their plate, you let them choose what they wanted. It made it easier to see what you should cook next time, knowing what foods they craved the most.

"Also, I have to go in town and get you guys some new clothes, but in the meantime you guys can wear some of my brother's old clothes. I probably won't get any until next week. I don't like going in town." It's true, you dreaded going into town. That's why you preferred the rural setting. Your brother however, wanted to experience more, leaving you and your parents to take care of the farm. And when your parents took their final breath, you inherited it all, and he wanted nothing to do the family farm or you.

The guys looked like they had questions, but they didn't dare ask them. Instead, they thank you for the meal and go wash up, putting on the clothes you gave them, giving you enough time to clean up and wash the dishes.

"I can help with that, if you want", you heard a voice behind you whisper. You turned around to see who was speaking, only to see no one there.

"Uh, sure?" You spoke into the air, hoping whoever asked could hear who. Then a head peaked around the corner with perked ears, followed by the rest of his body.

"H-hello", the wolf whispered. "I'm Taehyung. Jimin wanted to come too but he's a little more shy." He spoke whilst looking at the ground, face as red as a cherry tomato. "I'm good at washing dishes!"

"Really? I would love that", you smiled, lightly ruffling his hair with your slightly wet hands. He hid his face in his hands, making you smile even harder. If he is this shy, you can't imagine how Jimin must be.

After a while he gained enough courage to grab the sponge from your grasp, washing each plate carefully. While he washed the dishes you dried them and put them away, creating a system for the both of you.

"So, where are you guys from?" You tried to make small talk, hopefully lightening the mood. Sadly it did the exact opposite. his head tilted at your question, like he was trying to remember.

"You mean where we were born?" He asked you.

"Yeah, like your birthplace. For example, I was born right in this very house. My mother had a home birth." You don't think he understood what that was, but you decided to just leave it alone for now.

"Well, I was born in a lab, I think. The lab is all I remember. I never met my parents. Jin was made in a test tube, so he doesn't have any parents. I think the only one who grew up with parents is Hoseok."

"Oh, that's unfortunate", is all you could bring yourself to say. You can't imagine it, your whole life being used as some project, some new invention, being given away as pets or fighters. Life must've not been too kind to this pack of hybrids.

Taehyung shrugged. "It's nothing we're not used to. That's why this is so important to me. I really don't want to mess this up again."

"I would never. There's nothing you guys can do that would make me do such a thing."

"That's what the last one said", he sighed. "That's why Joon is so cautious. The last time he let someone in, he was being hauled to a research facility."

"I'm so sorry", you sympathized. "But I promise you will never have to deal with that as long as you guys are here. Let me prove it to you." After hearing all that these guys have gone through, you made it your personal agenda to make them feel as loved and wanted as possible, starting with the oldest.

***

In order to understand your new roommate's better, you began to do some research on their breeds in your study. Panther hybrids, like Yoongi, sleep for almost have of the day and prefer dark spaces. A bunny hybrids favorite snack is carrots, of course. Luckily you have plenty of them in your garden. Honeydew is a very important part of a sugar glider hybrids diet. Wolves and foxes need a large grassy area to call their own and shift into their animal form more often.

"Y/n?" A voice called on the other side of the door, breaking you away from your research.

"You can come in, Tae", you knew that smooth deep voice by memory now. "I was just finishing up but you can sit down, if you want."

The wolf opened the door, observing the decor in your office. He was mesmerized by all of the books you kept on the shelves, probably covered in a white, dusty film. It's been a while since you dusted. You pointed to the comfy navy blue couch in the corner of the room, suggesting he take a seat.

"Are you busy? I don't want to interrupt..." he slowly sat down on the couch, finding the comfiest spot.

"Not at all! I actually need your help with something, if you're up for it."

He shook his head, a little too eager. "Anything."

"I want to know what Jimin and Yoongi like. Out of all of you, they're the ones I interact with the least, and I really want everyone to feel welcomed here", you stated. "I want to respect their space, but also let them know I want them here."

Taehyung thought about it for a second, looking up as if there was a thought bubble above his head. "Well, Yoongi is a domesticated panther, so he likes cat trees and anything he can scratch or lay on... But Jimin is a little more difficult."

You made a mental note to add that to your shopping list.

"Wait!" He blurted, as if the thought bubble above his head turned into a light bulb. "There is one thing that Jimin loves, but you might not be ready for it."

Your mind automatically went to another place, somewhere Tae was not trying to go. "Nothing like that!" The look on your faced must've been too obvious. Embarrassed, you put your head in your hands to cover the red that crept up your cheeks.

"Jimin really loves scenting", He said plainly, as if you knew what that meant. After a minute of silence he realized you probably needed a definition. Stupid humans, he thought.

"Scenting is really a comfort thing. He's a little more territorial than the others, and I bet he would be pleased if you let him scent you. It's just rubbing scents glands, like your neck or your wrist."

You nodded, taking in all of the notes Taehyung gave you. Maybe this will work, you thought. Can't get any worse, right?

***

That same night, Jimin was in the living room, watching some silly cartoons on the old television. You took it as an opportunity to go and socialize, get to know him better.

"Can I sit?" you asked him, pointing to the spot next to him on the couch. He nodded, scooting over some to give you a little more space.

"You don't have to move, Jimin", you told him. "There's plenty of room here for both of us."

"I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable", he whispered, never breaking eye contact with the tv. You scoot closer to him, gently overlapping your leg with his.

"Is this okay?" He nodded quickly. You could feel his heart start to race. You could see his mind racing. Something in you made you want to go further, to see how far you could go. You laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping both of your arms around his arm.

"W-what are you doing?" He stuttered.

"Trying to get comfortable", you shrugged nonchalantly. Even though you played it off, your heart was also racing. You hadn't been close to anyone this way in such a long time. You felt rusty. "Are you comfortable?"

"N-not really... n-nervous."

You pouted. "Oh... well, Tae told me that scenting helps calm you down. You can scent me, if you want." You kept your attention on the cartoons, but you could see him looking at you startled.

"How do you know what that is?" He questioned. Maybe she doesn't know what she's asking for... this must be too good to be true.

"Taehyung explained it to me briefly. He said it would make you more at ease." You swung your hair to the other side, tilting your neck, as if giving him permission to do as he pleases. "You can scent me if you want to. I don't mind it, really."

You could tell he was contemplating it, his hand easing its way to your waist. "Are you sure? This isn't something I take lightly. Once, you do this, you're mine." Your eyes widen at his choice of words. His darkened.

"O-okay", you whispered. You couldn't speak any louder, for fear that the tremble stuck in your throat would escape. His? You can't possibly become his, not when he already has plenty.

In a sudden haste, he lifted you from the couch and onto his lap. You gasped, clinging onto his shoulders to balance yourself. He then slid his hand behind your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back, giving him perfect access to your sent glands. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he licks a wet stripe down your neck.

"Holy shit, Jimin", you moaned. it was honestly an accident. Tae told you this was supposed to be comforting for him. He didn't say you would enjoy it. Maybe you should've done your own research.

Instinctively, you try and pull away from him, but it seemed that his reflexes were much faster. He continued peppering you in sloppy kisses, mind in a haze. Jimin couldn't think even think clearly. If he could, he would realize that you were now slowing grinding on his lap, subconsciously trying to relieve the tension between your legs.

"What the hell am I doing?" He whispered to himself. he couldn't stop repeating it. And no matter how many times he said it, he still couldn't find the answer.

Then, as if suddenly finding the answer, he shot up from the couch, tossing you from his lap to the seat cushion. His eyes were wide, obviously in distress.

"Jimin, what-"

"I... I c-cant", he stuttered, backing away from you slowly. You tried to reach for him but it only made him more apprehensive. "This was a mistake... I'm so sorry..."

And with that he ran to his sleeping quarters, leaving you sitting in the living room dumbfounded. Guess things could get worse...

Tags! (still open but filling up fast!)

@yoongicatcat @wifflepuff1344 @unwillingly-oblivious @shycreationdreamland @emer-syn @rinkud @amimami1991 @singukieee @nikkiordonez12 @xicanacorpse @cestlabellemort @whipwhoops @spider-thot0115 @ddaeng-angmoh @silscintilla @readerofallthingss @welcometomyworld13 @danielle143 @kookiesbunny @yoongiigolden

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rikiluvly · 9 months

Text

MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

🥀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱

tysm to the anon that requested this! <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | more to come...

PAIRINGS: vampire!riki x human!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and your mom move into an old mansion after some struggles. but what happens when the mansion is actually occupied by 7 vampires and the youngest just can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

GENRE: vampire au, fluff, a tiny bit of angst.

WARNINGS: mention of food, slight swearing, and Ni-ki is kinda rude.

WORD COUNT: 1,4k

you didn’t want to move houses. you thought your apartment was cute and cozy, but according to your mom, it was cramped and suffocating. so what she did was buy an old crappy mansion out in the middle of nowhere.

you and your mom were in the car driving on a gravel path surrounded by tall pine trees. turning a corner you could see the place you were moving into. it sure was beautiful at least, with vines covering the outside and a great big gate giving an eery welcoming vibe. to some people, they’d think it was haunted, but you don’t believe in that stuff.

our car pulled up and you stepped outside. you took some time to admire the place. you knew there had to be something wrong with it because the price you bought it for was weirdly cheap. your mum got the key out and unlocked the door.

once you walked in you were overwhelmed. jesus this place was ginormous. the ceiling had amazing carvings and the walls had beautiful paintings. you walked up the long stairway to the second floor. the stairway was magnificent curling around up to the next floor.

“y/n your room is the third door to the right!” your mum called out to you from downstairs.

“ok thanks mum!” you saw the door and opened it. wow. your room was the biggest bedroom you have ever stepped foot in. You took your time to explore the painted walls and ceiling. the ceiling was painted with clouds and the walls were a beautiful baby blue color. a four-posted bed was leaned against the back wall with navy curtains that could wrap around it. two windows were displayed on either side of the bed with bright red curtains. maybe some changes could be made.

"who are you?" a sudden echo of a voice was projected through your new bedroom.

"what?"

"I said, who. are. you?" the deep voice came again. was this house seriously haunted? you thought to yourself.

"that's an insult," came the mysterious voice.

"what?"

"Is that the only word in your vocabulary or something?" the person that occupied the voice was still nowhere to be seen.

"calling this place haunted can be an insult to us. we don't haunt we just... occupy it," you couldn't lie, the voice was beautiful and you knew the face behind it would be as well. but you can't seem to help to grow a dislike for whoever it was.

"I'm confused, me and my mom thought no one lived here?"

"no one does live here. well, not any humans anyway" all kinds of thoughts started running through your head. is this thing some kind of ghost?

"I would prefer it if you wouldn't call me a 'thing' beautiful,' oh you really dislike the voice now.

you started eyeing around your room looking for the voice. the voice that wouldn't show its face. you took a look under your bed, disappointed to find nothing but an old stuffed teddy bear that the past owners must have left. you reached to pick it up and examined the toy. looks like it has been well-loved. you thought.

you stood up only to be met with an unfamiliar face.

"glad you like my bear," the surprise caused you to jump slightly. you had noticed fangs had appeared on either side of his mouth as he talked. vampire? no. no way.

"ah, you're a lot smarter than I thought," the tall figure looked down at you as you couldn't dare to look into his eyes.

"who are you?" you asked looking back at the stuffed bear in your hands.

"seems like you stole my question there... y/n," he knows my name? you couldn't bare stay with this 'thing' any longer. so you sprinted around the tall physique and tried to get to the door. only for him to spawn in front of you and block the exit.

"how do you know my name?" you asked, scared for an answer.

"I'm a vampire... I can read minds," answering like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"you didn't answer my first question, who are you?" you asked hoping for an actual answer this time.

"Riki, Riki Nishimura," the vampire said showing off his sharp set of teeth. as threatening as they are, no teeth could scare you. just the thought of being punctured in the neck by Riki did.

"so, are you the only vampire that lives here, or are there more?" you asked hoping for an answer that confirms he is the only one.

"there are six more of us,' SIX?! you suddenly thought of your mom. what if she had come across one? you had to get out of the bedroom.

"I- I have to leave! my mom, she could have come across one and-" you stuttered hoping Riki would move aside.

"no need to worry about that, they won't be interested in your mum," his answer made you stop your plan to escape.

"why?"

"we prefer them young and fresh," he said taking steps towards you.

"what.." you said in a whisper.

"...nah I'm just joking. they are all out doing who knows what," you felt a weight lift off your chest. so they aren't blood-sucking creatures?

"oh, we still drink blood don't get that wrong but only on very... very rare occasions," you stood there waiting for him to say he was joking again. until he didn’t.

“so, y/n I better let you get to your unpacking, ya’ need any help.. I won’t be here,” he vanished.

you took some time to adjust to what had happened. you and your mom had just moved into a house filled with vampires. even someone like you who doesn’t believe in stuff like this knows that this was very much real, and very much happening.

you can’t tell your mom. you just can’t. life has just been so difficult lately and you know she needs this fresh new start, in a fresh ‘new’ home.

you opened the door to leave your room and sprinted back down the stairs

"mom!" you called out but didn't get a reply. what if Riki had gotten to your mom. a thought u would dare to think of again. you ran around the first floor realizing how many rooms there actually were. too many.

"mom-"

"oh hey honey I didn't hear you. everything going well in your new room?" she asked standing up from behind the kitchen counter.

no, I met a vampire named Riki who lives here with his six other friends.

"yeah, my room is really nice," you wish you could tell her the truth but the truth could destroy her. she seems so happy.

"well that's great, I just got dinner ready how bout you eat?" you lost your appetite a while ago but you still couldn't resist your mom's cooking, so you both walked into the dining room. In the middle sat an extremely long dining table with exactly seven chairs.

seven chairs. seven vampires.

you took a seat in the one furthest down the table, as your mom sat in the one opposite. she laid out a plate of pasta in front of you along with a glass of water.

"thanks, mom," you said politely as you started eating. your mom didn't sit down instead she started to walk away.

"where are you going?" you asked intensively.

"oh I already ate, you spent quite a lot of time in that new room of yours so I'm going to go wash up," she then left leaving you in the ominous, scary dining room.

"your in my seat," the vampire you had met earlier was again before you sat in the opposite chair.

"you seriously can't leave me alone can you?" you asked looking up as you took a bite from your pasta. his mouth turned into a slight smirk showing his sharp canines.

"no one has come here for the past seven years, what do you expect?" the same obvious tone that he had displayed before had come back.

"yeah, well I didn't know that," you said quietly looking down at your food, as he wouldn't take his eyes off you.

"look, don't expect the others to go as easy on you as I did alright?" easy? he scared the living hell out of you two times now.

"when are they coming back?" you wanted to know so you could be prepared. but they could also easily pop up in front of you at any time.

"right about...now," you felt a gush of wind come from behind you, blowing your hair up.

there stood six tall, handsome vampires holding cups of red liquid. which could only be one thing.

blood.

A/N: I accidentally deleted a 3k word fic and it's completely gone naur. oh well, I hoped you enjoyed this! 2nd part will be out soon.

#enhypen x reader #enhahearts #niki x reader #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #enhypen #kpop #enhypen fanfiction #enha x reader #enhypen scenarios #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen

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just-j-really · 5 months

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While I'm on the subject of Dreamling-does-tropes-wrong:

Hanahaki au where Hob's the one with hanahaki. Because I think however you set it up Hob refuses to play by the rules of the genre and the potential there is like catnip to me.

"The cure is confessing your love" variant? Hob's just like "Well fuck this actually" and tells Dream he loves him the moment he starts coughing up flowers. And there's so much potential there!

-Poor Hob tries to confess to Dream every time they interact and something keeps getting in his way- he falls in love in 1689, in 1789 they get interrupted, in 1889 he gets halfway through a confession and Dream YOU DAREs him, in 1989 he gets stood up. In 2022 Dream shows up at his table in the New Inn and Hob just blurts out "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU" before Dream has the chance to actually say anything.

-Modern day, post-reunion, Dream doesn't want to intrude on Hob's life but he does want to see him more so he decides to go for the totally rational move of using his Dream-powers to spy on Hob- which means he gets a front-row seat to Hob slowly succumbing to hanahaki the second their meeting ends. All of Hob's friends/coworkers/acquaintances are REAL worried for him, but he's just like "it's seriously nbd I'll just tell him next time I see him." Dream is also REAL worried while spying from afar, but eventually goes to Hob in person to beg him to confess to whoever he's in love with. (Could be very serious and emotional, could play like that one "just tell them you love them" "alright. hey, I love you." "yes, like that!" meme.)

-Hob blurts out a love confession at... literally any of their canonical meetings, and the rest of the fic is dealing with the fallout. I think the simplest way to do this is 1889, with the confession standing in for "I think you're lonely." I think the most interesting way to do this is 1489, because so much would change. I think the FUNNIEST way to do this is 1589, yes Hob is still married.

But then you can also do the "the cure is having your love requited" variant, where Hob suffers through several centuries with an incurable lung disease. One of his most treasured dreams is that someone will come up with a cure (but for Plot reasons it keeps just not happening, like someone does come up with a cure but the side effects just aren't worth it if you can technically survive having flowers in your lungs. And/or he's never found a doctor he trusted not to freak out if he died and came back on the operating table).

And then you've got options such as:

-Dream falls in love in 1689, and either they start up a relationship right then, or they spend several centuries where Hob thinks they're in a relationship (his feelings were returned, of course they are!) and Dream thinks he's pining hopelessly for Hob, who could never love him

-Dream Does Not realize that Hob is in love with him (and in fact thinks Hob just keeps getting hanahaki, over and over, for different people, and wonders why Death saddled him with the world's Messiest human). And then he falls in love with Hob.

-Dream DOES realize Hob is in love with him. Unfortunately, he falls in love with Hob (or more realizes that what he was feeling WAS love) while fishbowled. Fortunately, Hob notices the lack of flowers, gets worried about what that means (because if his Stranger returns his feelings then why isn't he here? the flowers can't be gone because he's dead, Hob refuses to believe it). Cue a fishbowl rescue!

-Dream falls in love with Hob post-fishbowl, but is in denial about his ow feelings and assumes Hob found a workable cure sometime while he was fishbowled, or got over him. He's VERY SAD about this and can't figure out why. Hob is busy googling 'how to ask out a guy who i empirically know likes me back but only looks at me mournfully when i try to flirt'

Like I want to write this fic so bad but there are so many directions i want to go with it...

#dreamling #my fic #hanahaki au

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rubykgrant · 3 months

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Idea for a Magnus Archives AU (that I don't have time to write all the way out, but it still intrigues me~)

At some point after Martin's father left, but when he was still very young, somebody offered to bring Mrs Blackwood some furniture. Used, but still in good condition. She refused, insulted by the idea that she needed "pity" or "charity", despite the fact that her health is already making things difficult... one day, while her son is at school, she hears a knock at the door. It takes her a while to get there. When she finally opens it, whoever knocked is gone, but they have left behind a table.

She assumes it was the same person as before, and is now irritated that they have "dumped" their old junk on her doorstep. A neighbor sees and offers to at least bring it inside. She decides it may as well be put to use, so she lets the neighbor move it in. Alone in the house, she looks the table over. It certainly isn't new, but isn't too beat-up or broken. It has a VERY unique pattern... almost like an optical illusion...

When Martin gets home from school, he's surprised to see that his mother is in the kitchen, getting ready to cook dinner; she hasn't done that in a year! He offers to help, or just make himself a sandwich and canned soup if she wants to rest, but she assures him that she's feeling MUCH better. This continues for several months, the doctors are amazed by what seems to be a miracle recovery! All the neighbors and old friends agree, she's also had a change in attitude lately, but it all seems for the better. Her son is especially happy... his mother seems so much more "gentle" than she used to be, and she doesn't even make him drink oolong tea with her anymore. She's decided that Earl Grey is better.

Nobody notices that her hair is a different length, a different color. Nobody notices the shape of her eyes and jawline has changed. Nobody notices that she's taller. Not any friends, neighbors, doctors, or family. Even all the photographs in the house have changed. A different woman is holding a tiny, newborn baby. A different woman is sitting next to a small Christmas tree, helping a child open a present. Nobody notices... except for one person.

When Mr Blackwood heard from an old friend that the wife he left had recovered, he suddenly had second thoughts. He really had thought she would die, and he must have had some sort of break-down. He couldn't handle it, so he ran away... but he's thinking clearly again. It has nothing to do with the fact that he also heard his wife recently got a new job, a very well-paying one with the kind of health plan that a spouse could share. It has nothing to do with the fact that he isn't feeling well himself lately, and he's noticed that he has nobody to take care of HIM. It has nothing to do with the fact that he hasn't been able to find work, and he also can't find a place to live. He just wants to go back because he misses his wife and son. That's all.

When Mr Blackwood returned, he brought flowers. To apologize. He knocked on the door, and heard a muffled voice call- "Come in!". He picked a time of day when he knew Martin would be at school, so he and his wife could reunite with some privacy. He expected his wife to be upset. He expected his wife to be angry, maybe cry, or try to throw something at him. He expected it would take time for his wife to let him explain, then forgive him. He expected HIS WIFE. The woman in this home was not his wife... she said she was, she smiled, used his name like she knew him, but she WASN'T. Her voice, face, EVERYTHING was different! This was wrong, why was this strange woman here?

He ran away, even though she called for him to stay. He tried to speak with their friends, her family... everybody acted like he was crazy. They acted like the woman claiming to be his wife was right. After months and months of trying to talk some sense into people, he finally remembers Martin; surely a child would know their own mother? Mr Blackwood has been watching the house, and he sees little Martin kiss the woman good-bye, then leave for school. As if everything was normal. He can't stand it anymore! He bursts through the door, shouting at the woman to tell the truth, but the noise alerts the neighbors, who call for help, and he leaves...

He stays away for more than a year, but he never went far. He kept watching. He tried to figure out WHY somebody would pretend to be his wife, and HOW she could fool everybody. It never makes any sense. He comes back again, in the middle of winter. Martin is sleeping over at a friend's house. Mr Blackwood has been sleeping in an old treehouse, long abandoned by the kids who built it. He can't stand the idea of that strange woman sleeping in the bed that SHOULD be his (that would have been his, if he hadn't left). He uses his key to open the back door. She hasn't changed the locks. He goes in, ready to be rough if necessary; he will get the truth if it kills him.

Around 2 in the morning, Mrs Blackwood calls for help. Her husband, the one who left her, the one who came back and threatened her, just tried to attack her! She fought back, and he ran off again. No trace of him is ever found. When Martin comes home, they have a discussion, and decide it isn't safe to life here anymore. So they move, not too far, Martin can still visit people he knew growing up. The new house is much nicer, in a safe neighborhood.

They take just about everything with them, except for a few large pieces of furniture they sell. Mrs Blackwood wants to keep the table with the unique pattern, though. She's grown rather fond of it. The movers she hired are... odd, but they get everything to the new home very quickly. When his mother speaks with the two of them beside their truck, Martin watches from a window, and he has the strangest feeling that... his mother might just step up into it, and ride away with them. Then she'll be gone, and he'll be alone. He can't explain why, but he almost expects it to happen.

She doesn't leave. She comes back inside, smiling, and hugs her child. Why wouldn't she? As the years go by, Martin wonders about his father; why the man left, why he came back, why he seemed so confused about who his own wife was. Martin also wonders what his father looked like, as none of the pictures they saved show his face. Mrs Blackwood tells her son- "I suppose there's a resemblance, but when I look at you, I just see YOU, not him. I love you too much to see your father in your features".

Martin grows up happy and safe with his mother. He's able to finish school, and eventually starts working at a bakery. Later, when he moves out to get his own place, he finds a job at a restaurant-confectionery in London. His mother didn't want him living so far away, but he really wants to sort of "get out in the world", have some experience on his own. Someday, he'd like to have his own tea shop and cafe. He works from the middle of the day to late shifts at the cafe, and he gets to know some of the regulars very well. One woman, Sasha, comes in often to get food and drinks for her coworkers. Martin likes chatting with her, and eventually meets Tim when they come to have lunch together. He considers them to be friends.

One day, they call and tell Martin they want to order the most extravagant cake possible for their boss; it is his birthday, and they are going to be obnoxious about it, but also trick him so he doesn't know they've planned something. Martin offers to bring it over himself, so they can pretend to not be up to anything. This is how he enters the Magnus Institute. This is how he meets Jonathan Sims. This is how he starts learning about the strange things they research here. This is how he sees a picture of a table with a very curious pattern. This is how he asks if he can listen to the statement about that table...

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood

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mizuseyebrows · 3 months

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she's so cute and so excited for me —mizu x f!reader

image credits to bad thinking diary by park do-han ^^

warning: nsfw. mdni. not proofread. modern!au. she/her pronouns for mizu. oral (mizu receiving), slight fingering, licking over panties. nibbles, praises. covered-ish sex. petnames (baby). aftercare.

includes: top!f!reader. afab!reader. whiped!reader (so real). bttm!mizu. whinning!mizu. slightly insecure mizu. light plot just sex. word count: 3.3k

summary: you eat out mizu after a karate competition.

a/n: mizu uses boyshorts because I use them they're comfortable. and she's insecure with her boobs, I wanna give her a hug.

You were karatekas, the best in your respective academies. Each of you represented your states at championship season. On more than one occasion you have fought against the other, she was mostly the victor which made her have a certain arrogant and sarcastic attitude towards you.

Did that make you guys get along badly? Not at all. In fact, you exchanged phone numbers, you constantly message each other and when you meet in a city for a competition, you go out there to kill time. And maybe you've shared some breath-taking kisses, maybe.

Although you two are serious about the discipline that you were passionate about, something changed in the final. Something about this day's combat made you look each other playfully and mockingly; there was something different in your behaviors. The tension was much more palpable than before. Maybe because you wanted to defeat the other, maybe because you wanted to take home the gold medal, or maybe because last night at the hotel you escaped from the competitors’ dinner to corner the other and make out.

When Mizu beat you in combat and you both bowed before each other, the way your eyes connected was quite… explicit.

You two looked at each other with defiance, both of you feeling pleased by the way the spare excited both of you. Mizu had that hunting, predatory look of wanting to undress you and show everyone that she could have you, and they couldn't. And you admired her like a figure sculpted in the most exquisite marble in the world; the only thing you wanted was to trace every line of her body with your fingers, feeling out where those imperfections that made her unique were.

Because yes, the little you've seen of Mizu's clothed figure has made you long to see some more. It was her appearance, her height, her hair, her eyes... Also, imagining what her toned extreme body would look like gave you chills.

The next thing that happened after you approached her to congratulate her on her victory was so fast and irrelevant that the only thing you both remembered after leaving the competition was kissing each other hungrily on your room’s bed. As soon as you got there, Mizu had practically attacked you with kisses and was now sitting on your lap, with her hands caressing your breasts under your keikogi. You caressed her covered toned thighs and her hips, while responding to her passionate kisses.

She wasn't holding herself back anymore, as she was totally consumed by the eager between you two. She couldn't stop herself from kissing you and touching you everywhere, as she was getting more and more aroused with every moment.

She almost wanted to rip your clothes off, as her hands were already on your chest. Your touches felt so amazing on her body, and it took all of her composure to not just give into the sensations.

"Mizu, what would others say if they saw the intimidating gold medalist sitting on her opponent's lap?" You asked her with and heavy breath.

"Oh shush..." She murmured with an aroused grin, as she continued to kiss you and move her hands all over you. "I can sit on the lap of whoever I want.”

She kissed you again, and her movements started to get more intense. It felt like she was going to explode any moment and she managed to open your uwagi. You giggled and made her lie down on the mattress, crawling on top of her.

She moved her hands underneath the opened uwagi and started kneading your breasts in your sports bra, as she started to gasp softly. The excitation kept building between you two, as you started kissing her neck and her collarbone.

You gave her several gentle bites, but you tried not to left marks that would raise suspicions. "You don't know how good it’s for my ego to have you like this for me.” You bit under her chin, beginning to rub her skin under her uniform.

She giggled softly because of the way that you were teasing her, but the laugh turned into a moan as you kissed her throat and touched her torso. The feeling of being so intimate with you on top of her was enough to drive her crazy.

Her breath was already so heavy, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to moan a little bit louder and more vigorously.

"So sensitive for me..." You continued to tease her, untying the obi and leaning down to kiss her stomach flirtatiously. "What happened to your dominant attitude, miss Mizu?"

“It all went out the window when we started kissing..." She murmured, feeling completely aroused by your words and how your kisses. She put her hand on your back, and tried to guide you to where she wanted you to go.

"Oh yeah? Do I have that much power over you?" You circled the shape of her navel with the tip of your tongue, holding her tightly by her waist.

She gasped when she felt your tongue whirling, and she shivered. She couldn’t help but arch her body slightly and moan lightly. Her hands started to get tighter on your back, as she tried to get you to be even more intimate with her.

“I can’t resist you…” She breathed heavily.

"No? I'm flattered." You laughed seductively against her stomach and started to kiss her belly button, scratching her back with your nails, wanting to feel her trembling because of it.

Her breath came out in short gasps. She started to arch her back more with your touches and the way you were causing her so much pleasure. Her hands were now gripping your shoulders more tightly, as she felt like she was about to melt. Her moans got louder and more desperate, and she couldn’t keep herself from clinging onto you.

"Does this feel good?" You began to kiss her belly, pinching it gently with your teeth.

"Too good..." She groaned softly; the feeling of your teeth sent tingling sensations all throughout her body.

The way you were teasing her felt amazing.

"And what happens if I go lower?" You kissed her hip over her pants, rubbing her legs gently with your hands.

"I’ll melt..." She moaned softly, as she felt her whole body trembling. The way you looked down her body was incredibly sexy and she was almost turning feral. She couldn’t resist you anymore.

"Yes? Would you melt for me?" You looked up as she continued caressing her thighs over the fabric. "You are so daring, miss Mizu..."

"Y-Yes..." She nodded, as she sighed.

You laughed mockingly and went further down her body, to start to nuzzle her crotch. "So, so sensitive for me." You gasped against her zubon, pressing your hands to her hips.

She groaned softly when you started to caress between her thighs, as she felt your breath against her covered pussy. Her hips started to sway unconsciously. She couldn’t help but enjoy this moment with you, as you were teasing and pushing her to her limit.

"What will I find when I pull down your pants, hm?" I hummed, enjoying the heat she radiated. "Do you have a surprise for me?"

"Perhaps..." She gripped her hands tighter and gasped in response to how you were caressing her over the pants. You could tell that she was getting more and more excited, but you kept teasing her. "Do you want me to be naughty for you?" She said with a playful grin, her voice was breathless as she struggled to keep control.

"Oh, I know you're a naughty girl." You slurred your words, sensually, and began to slide down the zubon. "You're so hot for me..." You whispered, undressing her legs with torturous slowness.

The way you were taking your time was absolutely killing her. She was already so aroused that her body couldn't help but move in response to your touch, as she was being completely swept away by that heat.

You smiled as soon as she was left with only her boyshorts covering her, her pitch black, soaked boyshorts. You approached her hip again, biting down on the bone. "Look at you, I turned you into a mess just with my kisses..." You whispered against her skin, feeling your insides burning.

"Please, stop it..." She said softly, her body trembling as you bit down on her hip bone. Her breaths became ragged and her body started to sway from the sensation of your teeth on her skin. She groaned softly, breathing heavily now. She never expected to be so turned on, but you really knew how to get her.

"Do you want me to stop? Is this too much?" You looked at her with real concern, stopping your nibbles.

"N-No..." She exclaimed softly, her breath becoming steadier with each moment. "Don’t stop... I just—I can’t handle it..." she said softly, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

She shivered as she looked away from you, trying to keep her self-control with all of these different sensations. She couldn’t handle how intense this moment was becoming.

"Hey, hey, if you can't handle it, I can stop. The idea is that we both enjoy it, not just me." You sat back on your heels, looking at her with worry.

“No... It’s okay." She gasped, before correcting herself; “I mean... it feels amazing. But I don’t think I have the ability to keep my composure right now..." She said softly with a groan, as she tried to catch her breath again.

"Is that it? You don't want to lose your composure?" You giggled, feeling tenderness for her.

"Y-Yeah..." She mumbled softly, as she took deep breaths and tried to settle her beating heart.

"Are you sure you want to continue?" You looked at her with doubt.

She looked at you with an eager look in her eyes, and she was clearly having a hard time keeping herself collected. She was definitely feeling overwhelmed by all that desire, but she hadn't wanted to stop you.

“It’s fine...please continue." She closed her eyes and laid back on the mattress, letting you do what you want to do.

"If it's too much, please tell me." You smiled at her and began to caress her through her undergarment, enjoying how your fingers became moist from her arousal.

She jerked as your digits slid between her covered folds, the fabric managing to gently rub her clit and the sensation sent chills down her spine and she couldn't help but arch a little.

"Are you this soak just for me, baby?" You rubbed frantically against her, loving how wet she was for you. "Do you want me to make you feel even better?"

She whined softly, her body shaking from the excitement of that feeling. She looked at you with darkened eyes, and nodded her head; she couldn’t say anything as it felt like she was going to explode soon.

You leaned back between her thighs and kissed her there softly, sighing and closing your eyes. "You taste so good..." You moaned a little and started licking her pussy over her panties, feeling like your eyes wanted to roll in their sockets.

She choked back a sob when your tongue touched her there, her limbs completely losing their strength. She let out little gasps and sighs. You were making her feel so good, as she let her hands grip your hair tightly.

You felt pleased and grabbed the edges of her boyshorts, stretching them up between her folds. You ran your fingers over her lips and then caressed her entrance over the fabric.

“Can I take them off?” You asked softly, playing with the elastic of the underwear to gently pinch his skin.

“Y-Yes, god, yes…” She answered with broken breaths, looking at you with a few small tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

You laughed affectionately and began to slide her panties down her long, toned legs, leaving her completely exposed to you. And you were able to confirm that reality was better than your imagination. Seeing her so soaked just for you was enough to make you grunt and want to make the mess in her pussy worse. You leaned against her again and began licking her clit, practically vibrating your tongue.

She howled loudly as she felt you making out with her pussy and her toes curled, while her hand pressed against your head. Maybe she wanted to push you away because it was too much, maybe she wanted to get you closer to her, or maybe she was just releasing tension. Who cared?

"She's so cute and so excited for me." You spoke against her, passing your tongue slowly again, like her clit was a popsicle. This while your thumb began to surround her entrance, going in and out gently.

“N-Yes…just stop talking, and keep going.” She murmured softly, as her eyes started to roll back. Your tongue felt wonderful, as it made her squirm even more. She couldn’t think straight anymore, all she could focus on grinding her hips against your mouth.

"You don't like me encouraging you, hm?" You thrusted your thumb slowly. The watery sounds this produced sent tickles throughout your body. Your ears tickled from the sound. "You hurting me, precious."

You moved your thumb away to dart her entrance with your tongue, using your fingers to spread her folds for better access. You nuzzled her clit and deepened the movements inside her.

She cried out and cover her mouth to silence her loud sounds. She tried to keep herself contained but every move you made with your tongue was causing her to tremble with excitement. Her eyes began to water as she squeezed them tightly, you were driving her nuts!

"I know, I know..." You trapped her clit between your lips, making some snappy sounds. "I think I can get addicted to you...”

“Y-Please do…” She pleaded, as her hips swayed even more. Her muscles were tightening while her legs began to spasm a few times.

"Move, baby, move." You pressed your hands to her buttocks to start moving her against your tongue, as you continued to taste her. Her stimulated, erect clit felt so good, you couldn't help but roll your eyes yourself and groan at her taste.

She growled hoarsely as she felt your hands guiding her body and started to move her hips. She was getting more sensitive and her gasps became erratic and desperate. Her muscles tensed and her hand tried to push your head away from her clit as she felt spasming while guttural moans came out of her mouth.

When Mizu had her orgasm, her thighs trapping your head and her sobs coming out as almost desperate screams, made your own pussy throb. You whimpered against her clit sharply and then began to lick her cum, making her squirm beneath you.

Then you separated yourself from her crotch, licking your lips and appreciating the mess you had transformed her into. Wet and gone in pleasure, her legs shivering subtly.

She was completely exhausted, as she was sweating profusely and her breath was shaky. She panted heavily, trying to catch her breath back. She looked up at you with a tired yet thankful grin, for the way you just made her feel.

"How do you feel?" You lovingly stroked her thighs, looking at her with a serene smile.

"Wonderful..." She murmured softly, as she couldn't stop herself from looking at you with dreamy eyes. You made her feel like she was on a cloud nine, as she tried to hold on something.

You laughed softly and leaned over her and began kissing her abs again. God, how I loved a woman with marked muscles.

She giggled when she felt your lips on her stomach. It felt so wonderful to be with someone who loved that much about her. She felt powerful with the way that you kissed her, as she could already feel the sparks flying again between the two of you.

"You have a beautiful body, Mizu." You sighed against her skin, tracing her abs with the tip of your tongue, including her v-line.

She smirked lazily, as she felt pleased with how well-built she was. You were definitely making her feel comfortable. “I know I have a beautiful body.”

"Uh-huh? We have a confident girl, don't we?" You joked and looked at her breasts covered by her sports bra and reached your hand to touch them.

She was definitely quite confident in her body’s physique, but there were things she couldn't help but feel a little insecure about. She stopped your caresses.

"Just don’t take off my bra. I don’t want you to see my boobs." she said softly, feeling a little shy.

"Uh? Why not? I want to see them..." You looked into her eyes; a little bit worried.

You rubbed her sides, wanting to make her feel comfortable again. That felt good enough to soothe her nerves. She looked at you with a shy grin, as you kept caressing her.

“I'm insecure about my breast size...they’re too small.” She groaned softly, feeling a little embarrassed about herself.

"Baby, there's no such thing. Boobs are boobs, no matter the size." You smiled lovingly at her. "But if you want, I don't see them, okay?"

“You just say that because yours are perfect.” She muttered, closing her eyes and letting her body relax with the touch of your hands.

"Of course not, silly." You leaned closer to her and gently kissed her neck. "I'm sure your boobs are cute and soft. Someday I will be able to see them and I will not stop giving them the love they deserve." You bit under her ear, clinging to her body.

She groaned softly as she felt your hot breath against her and your bite on her ear. Her cheeks turned pink, she was enjoying the intimacy of this moment, and she was definitely feeling very pleasant around you.

"And if I find out that it was someone who made you feel insecure about your breasts, I assure you that I will take care of erasing that memory from your mind." You kissed her on the forehead and started caressing her cheeks with your knuckles.

She scoffed softly, as she smiled, looking at how caring you were. She wasn't used to such treatment, she felt loved and cared for by you. She felt so relaxed with you, she enjoyed being held by your strong yet gentle touch.

You rested your hands on either side of her head and lowered your face a little to plant a caramel kiss on her lips, with every intention of smooching her now. You took her thighs to place them around your hips, clinging to her body. Then your hands held her back and pulled her closer to your chest, without there being a single inch between you two.

She returned the kiss languidly, feeling a little drowsy from fatigue, yet the affectionate session you were having produced a warm sensation in her chest that made her hug you by the neck.

When you began to outline her abs with your fingertips, you broke away from the kiss to whisper in her ear: "You're beautiful, Mizu.” You cooed and nuzzled her cheek, smiling tenderly.

She smiled softly, as she felt your reassuring words. Her body was calmed and her eyes were starting to feel a little bit heavy. "Can we just stay like this for a while? Just enjoy each other’s company?" She mumbled softly, closing her eyes and letting herself relax.

"Nothing would like me more" You giggled, stroking her long, silky hair lovingly.

She chuckled softy, it was so soothing to feel your warmth against her scalp. She even let her body melt under your touch. She was adoring this moment, as she felt your appreciation and kindness. There was no judgement here, just two people who love and care about each other, enjoying the presence of each other...

#mizu x fem!reader #mizu x reader #mizu x you #bes mizu #mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai mizu #bes

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borathae · 3 months

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"You might not know who will find this tape and watch it or if anyone ever will, but whoever might find it will see that the days you and Taehyung spent together were bright."

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff, Romance

Warnings: they're in love :(, running in the rain, kissing the rain, hugging in the rain, yeah there's rain if y'all didn't know yet lmao, a romantic little holiday, non-sexual nudity, sharing of a shower to warm up, they're playing dress up in the living room, they pretend to be newly weds, slow dancing, so much laughter and giggles and happiness, like besties i might actually sob this is so romantic, also she is smaller than him i'm sorry besties i know i normally try not to add too many height descriptions but i'm smaller than tae and i needed to feel something hahahah a bitch just wanted to be immersed ✊🏻😔

Wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: this is based on anonie's idea and inspired by IU's song. i love him so much, you guys. i miss him so much, i might actually start crying :( have fun besties, this is so lovely and sweet 💙

“Quick! We have to be quick!”

“Tae, slow down please. You know that I could just open us a portal?”

“No. It won’t work. Quick, we are almost there.”

You and he are running, trying to escape the inescapable. Your hand is clutched in his’. He is leading the way, looking over his shoulder every third step to make sure you are still keeping up with him.

You barely are at this point. It is difficult to see. Thick stripes of his hair stick to his face, your clothes stick to your bodies. The trees shake above your heads. The birds had stopped singing a long time ago.

“How far? Tae, I can’t run anymore.”

“Just past this clearing. One last time”, he promises and looks back front.

The end of the forest is within reach. One. Two. Three steps and you have left it behind. The inescapable still follows you, making it hard to see.

“There! It’s there!” you call out and point at the small house in the distance.

Taehyung turns on his heels, “one last time. Come”, he says and runs off. His hand slides from yours this way. He is so much faster than you.

“Tae! Wait for me, I’m not that fast!” you call after him, stumbling through the meadow.

He throws his arms over his head and laughs, twirling and skipping in the high grasses.

The storm surprised you. It wasn’t supposed to rain today. That is why you and he went on this forest walk in the first place. You were deep in the woods, surrounded by nature and with the song of bird keeping you company, when the weather changed drastically and rain began pouring down. You were soaked within minutes. No matter how fast you ran, you couldn’t outrun it. You still ran. Hand in hand and with your visions blurry from the water.

It was fun at first, but soon became less fun. You were soaked and you were cold and you wanted to be back at the house.

Taehyung is by the lowest stairs of the front porch, watching you run to him. He is bouncing on the spot, encouraging you to speed up with squeaky cheers.

You and he left the estate behind for the sake of going on a little holiday. Taehyung asked one of his vampire friends if they could rent him one of his forest houses for a few days and off you went. It is just you and Taehyung here, surrounded by forest and the steep cliffside with the ocean in the back.

You reach Taehyung’s side. He meets you in the middle, picking you off the ground by your waist. He twirls with you. The force of the twirls swings your legs high in the air until it feels as if you were flying.

You squeak in laughter, holding tightly onto his shoulders as Taehyung makes you fly.

“I have you now”, he laughs.

“This is so much fun!” you squeak, throwing your head back as around you, the world blurs.

He stops once your heads are dizzy, using the momentum to swing your legs past his body and back again to repeat it with the other side. He did this move a million times before whenever you and he went swing dancing. It never loses its spark. You are still squeaking and giggling as if it is the first time he is doing it.

Taehyung is laughing just as much. His face is contorted in happiness, his eyes barely want to stay open from smiling so brightly.

He keeps you in his arms once he stopped swinging you, holding you under your butt and gazing up at you. You caress his shoulders and the nape of his neck, looking down at him. He is a little blurry in your vision because your head needs to recover from being twirled so much, but you don’t mind. You have Taehyung to keep you safe.

“I love when you do that”, you tell him.

“Me too. Oh darling, this was so much fun.”

“Yeah, it was”, you say, flinching in sync with him when sudden thunder and lightning strikes the earth at the same time, “holy cow, that was so loud.”

“I think it might be time for us to go inside”, Taehyung says.

“Yeah, I think so too”, you snicker.

Taehyung grins and turns to carry you inside.

You laugh, “are you going to carry me?”

“Of course. It is the least I can do after dragging you along like this.”

“Yeah true. You did drag me quite a bit, you big meanie.”

“But you must admit that it was terribly fun to run in the rain.”

“Yes, it was. I’m cold now though. I really need something to warm me up.”

“Worry not, I shall warm you up in no time.”

“You shall?” you giggle.

“Mh-hm of course. This is what I am here for”, he says with a playful lift of his brows.

“Oh Tete, you cutie”, you smile, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck. You rub it against him this way, letting out little sounds of comfort.

Taehyung loves the affection. You give off the image of a love drunk cat this way. Taehyung really, really loves when you are this way.

With one hand under your butt, he opens the door and slips inside the small cottage. He locks the door and with it, turns the storm into an outside friend. It grumbles and rumbles in a constant melody, lighting up the darkening day with flashes of bright electricity every now and then.

Taehyung sometimes listens to thunderstorms and thinks of you. You love thunderstorms. Taehyung sometimes listens to thunderstorms and thinks of you and as he does, he places roles onto the different elements of nature’s sky showers. You are the lightning while he is the thunder, because you will always come first while he only exists because of you.

Taehyung sets you down in front of the shower. He disappears from your side for just a second to turn on the water, then returns. He touches you, running his big hands up your waist until he has your upper back under his palms. He smiles at you, blinking his eyes slowly like a cat in love.

“May I undress you?” he asks.

“Yes”, you allow him and lift your arms.

Taehyung takes off your clothes with utmost care. Your body is sacrilegious to him. Unwrapping it must happen with respect and tender love, for you should never ever feel as if the beautiful vessel for your soul was nothing but desirable flesh to him.

He throws your wet upper clothing onto the tiled floor and lowers his lips to your right shoulder so he could worship the paths of it with tender kisses. You sigh his name in reaction, sliding your hands under his soaked jumper.

“You are beautiful”, he whispers and lifts his head again. He rises his arms, allowing you to take off his jumper. He has to lower himself a little when you reach his head, giggling with you because he thinks it’s adorable that you couldn’t reach.

“Tiny darling one”, he teases, earning himself a nudge to his chest.

“You’re just too tall”, you throw back and laugh when he wraps his arms around you to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. You squeak and cackle, fleeing him as much as you press into him, “your hair’s so cold and wet, Tae”, you whine.

“I know, oh I know. Quick, let’s undress and get under the water”, he says and facing each other, you each take off your pants.

You discard them on the tiles as well, stepping into the shower afterwards. Taehyung lets you enjoy the water first because you are his lightning. You tilt your head up, closing your eyes and smiling softly. You are so beautiful. Oh, he feels jealous of the water kissing your face and the warmth touching your skin.

He reaches out, resting his hands on the softest part of your waist. You open your eyes, looking up at him. He feels vast of air for a blink of an eye.

“Come inside, Tae”, you tell him and drag him under the water by his waist.

Your bodies connect, your skins finally share one warmth.

“Mhm”, Taehyung lets out and tilts his head back so the water can trickle down on his face.

“It’s so warm, isn’t it?” you ask, gazing up at him. He is so beautiful.

“It’s so wonderful. Oh, I felt the cold within my bones”, he says, lowering his head so he could meet your eyes again.

“Me too. I don’t regret it however.”

“Me neither, my darling”, he says and closes the small distance between you and him by hugging you against his chest.

You melt into him, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your hands on his back while he cradles the back of your head and traces your spine. You and he sway from side to side slowly, sharing the warm water while outside it storms.

Being cold with him will always be okay, because at the end of it, you and he will share warmth again. There is truly no sweeter future than this.

You and he dry the other’s hair after the shower. You loved each other for long enough to know how to do it perfectly. You learned the language of his hair, while in return he learned yours. You know how to touch, what to use and where to start. You come first of course because you are his lightning. He comes second, leaning into your palm when you cradle his cheek and call him beautiful.

You wrap the other in a soft bathing robe afterwards, leaving the bathroom together. The storm and the passage of time darkened the sun by now and so you turn on the lights to see.

“I want to drink some tea. Do you want a cup as well?” you ask him.

“I would love to, thank you”, he says and points down the hallway, “I shall get clothes for us. I promise to get only the warmest of jumper for you.”

“Alright, my darling. Thank you”, you say and kiss his lips chastely.

You and he part ways for only a few moments. You use it to prepare tea and he uses it to get clothes. Just like you had agreed to do.

The tea has finished brewing when Taehyung enters the kitchen.

“My darling”, he makes his presence known in a soft spoken voice.

You turn, meeting the lens of a camcorder.

“What’s this?” you ask him, “darling, why are you wearing a suit?”

“I found it. Alongside this camera and this dress”, he explains, lowering the camera for now. He slides a white dress from his shoulder, handing it to you.

“A wedding dress?” you ask him.

“I do not know who it belonged to once, but it is your size. The suit is my size as well”, he says and smiles shyly, “do you want to put it on? For only a little while?”

You feel your heart flutter. With a fond smile on your lips, you nod your head.

“Don’t peak. If we pretend to be newlyweds, we have to follow the rules.”

“Yes, true. I shall meet you in the living room”, Taehyung says and turns away with a happy skip in his steps.

You watch him with a fluttering pulse. Taehyung is such a tender person at heart. His soul is colours of golden oranges and warm yellows like that of a young sunset seeing the world for the first time. Only he would think of something like this. Only he would see no strangeness in pretending to be married and he was right. There was no strangeness in it.

The dress smells like lavender and violets. It looked too small at first, but then you slipped it on and it fit as it was made for you. The dress smells like lavender and violets and perhaps just a little like magic. Perhaps that would explain why it found you and Taehyung when it did.

You abandon the mugs of tea because there was something else keeping you warm now. The excitement of being with Taehyung.

“Tae?” you call for your lover, “are you ready?”

“I am”, Taehyung answers you from the living room. Lively music accompanies his voice. He must have put on a record.

With a racing heart, you step through the threshold.

Taehyung stands at the end of the room by the lit fireplace. The camcorder is propped on some books, filming the scene unfolding.

“My darling”, he gasps and exhales shakily, “my darling, oh, look at you.”

“How do I look?” you ask him and grab the dress on two spots so you could twirl and swing it as you dance to him.

He meets you in the middle, sweeping you off your feet as he grabs you in the midst of your jump. You squeak, throwing your head back as Taehyung twirls you in the small living room.

“Oh my beautiful darling, my sweetest light. No art could ever capture the beauty of you. My darling, oh my darling”, he gushes and laughs, gazing up at you with sparkling eyes.

“I’m getting dizzy, Tae”, you squeak with tears of happiness welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Taehyung stops twirling, sliding you down his body gently until your tiptoes touch the ground. He keeps you close, running his hands along your torso lovingly. His eyes are glistening, gazing at you with soul-consuming love in them.

“You bring light into my life”, he speaks softly.

“I do?”

“You do. Oh darling, you do”, he smiles with his eyes, “you truly do.”

“You make life brighter as well, my darling”, you say, caressing his chest gently, “and you look so handsome in your suit.”

“I look miniscule in your light, my darling. Oh I want to pick you up and twirl you until the world stops turning.”

“Please don’t. I’d probably throw up”, you laugh, making Taehyung chuckle and scrunch his nose.

“Then at least show the camera, please my darling”, he says and turns you to where the camera stands. He pulls you close, resting his head against yours, “this is my darling, dear future person who might find this tape. Say hello.”

“Hello there, future person”, you say, doing a little courtesy. You crack up afterwards, looking at Taehyung, “this is so silly.”

“No it isn’t”, he says and drags you closer to the camera. He uses the momentum to tug you against him, squishing his cheek with yours, “this is my dearest darling, my universe”, he says and kisses your cheek, “I love her so much”, he adds and hugs you tightly.

You giggle, snuggling into him. Taehyung picked a fitting nickname when he called you his light, because your smile in this moment could light up even the darkest of days.

“I love you too, my darling”, you tell him, turning in his arms to kiss his lips, “now may I have this first dance with you, my husband?”

Taehyung giggles, lifting his shoulders to his ears shyly. He nods his head vigorously, laying his hands into yours. You drag him away to a free space, beginning your dance with a twirl of him. He laughs loudly, falling into your arms with his head thrown back in joy.

“How was that for a twirl?” you ask him, guiding him to the music.

“It was perfect. Oh darling”, he rests his cheek on your shoulder, pulling you close, “I am so happy. My beautiful wife”, he says and giggles, “it has a wonderful ring to it.”

You close your eyes as your fingers begin playing with his hair.

“It really has, my darling husband.”

Taehyung giggles. You join him. You and he will dance until the tea is cold and the camcorder falls asleep.

You might not know who will find this tape and watch it or if anyone ever will, but whoever might find it will see that the days you and Taehyung spent together were bright.

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ramhaiba · 20 days

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𝖡𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗎 𝖦𝗈𝗃𝗈 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

SNEAK PEEK

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT a/n: this fic is a lot darker than normal of my work contains: noncon sexual themes, manhandling, breaking up, biting, oral (f receiving), baby trapping, modern au