#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ love sign from above! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonxknightx · 5 months ago

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :SUMMER FLING (PT1) : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Literally none!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: In the peaceful town of Portofino, you run a café that offers a calm escape from New York. When Hugh Jackman, being on a long due holiday, started frequenting your café, you try to keep things friendly and low-key. As summer progresses, your conversations grow more engaging, and you begin to look forward to his visits, hoping that maybe, it can bloom into something more.

THE SOUND OF THE BELL ABOVE THE DOOR CHIMED SOFTLY AS YOU FLIPPED THE SIGN ON YOUR BOOKSTORE CAFE TO, Aperto. The sun was just beginning to rise over the glittering sea of Portofino, casting a golden glow across the picturesque Italian town. The cobbled streets were still quiet, with only the occasional scooter whirring by. It was early yet, but you had always enjoyed the calm before the bustle, when it felt like the whole world was still asleep, and this tiny corner of paradise belonged only to you.

After moving here from New York two years ago, you had found a rhythm. Your café-bookstore, Il Sogno, had quickly become a favorite of both locals and tourists. With its shelves lined with well-worn books and the scent of fresh espresso hanging in the air, it was your sanctuary—a world away from the chaos of Manhattan.

You pulled a fresh batch of pastries from the oven just as the door opened, and in walked your most faithful customer and friend, Signora Rossi. Every morning without fail, she’d be there, perched at the window with her espresso and biscotti, watching the town slowly wake up.

“Buongiorno, cara!” she greeted you with a smile, her voice warm with familiarity. She was in her late sixties, her grey hair pulled into a neat bun, her eyes sharp and full of mischief. She was like a second mother, always full of gossip and advice, especially when it came to your love life—or lack thereof.

“Morning, Signora,” you said, pouring her usual espresso.

“Did you hear about the new mystery man who arrived yesterday?” she asked, leaning over the counter as though she had the juiciest secret in town.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I swear, nothing escapes you, does it?”

“Of course not,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “He’s rented the villa by the sea. You know, the one with the view of the harbor. No one knows who he is, but I’ve heard he’s famous.”

“Famous?” You raised an eyebrow, handing her the cup. “What, like a movie star?”

“Perhaps,” she mused, stirring her espresso. “But he’s been very quiet, very private. It’s only a matter of time before someone figures it out. Maybe he’ll come into your café, and you’ll charm him.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully. “Maybe he’ll just want his coffee in peace.”

~🌻~

But as the morning went on, you couldn’t help but wonder. A famous stranger in Portofino? It wasn’t unusual for celebrities to vacation in the area, but something about the mystery piqued your curiosity.

Hours passed, and the café began to fill with its usual mix of locals and tourists. You were busy behind the counter, making lattes and chatting with customers when the door chimed again. You glanced up from the espresso machine, ready with your typical warm greeting, and froze.

He stood in the doorway, sunglasses perched on his nose, casually dressed in a simple white T-shirt and jeans. There was something about him—his presence, the way he carried himself—that made you do a double-take. You knew that face.

Hugh Jackman.

The mystery man. You immediately recognized him, but years in New York had taught you how to keep your cool around famous people. You bit back your surprise and forced yourself to act normal.

“Good afternoon,” you said with a smile. “What can I get you?”

He smiled—warm, friendly, and entirely unassuming, which caught you off guard. “G’day! A cappuccino, please,” he replied, his Australian accent unmistakable.

As you prepared his cappuccino, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. He was taller than you expected, and even more handsome in person, if that was possible. But what stood out was how calm and down-to-earth he seemed, nothing like the larger-than-life characters he played on screen.

When you handed him the cup, he took a seat near the window, pulling a book from his bag—a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo, one of your favorites. He seemed so at ease, as if he belonged in this small-town café, far removed from the spotlight.

You busied yourself with other customers, but every now and then, your eyes would wander to him. Part of you wanted to say something—anything—to break the ice, but what would you say? “Hey, you’re Wolverine” seemed a bit much.

Instead, you let him enjoy his coffee in peace. You couldn’t help but smile when Signora Rossi came in again not long after and spotted him immediately. She practically squealed with excitement.

“Oh mio Dio!” she whispered, gripping your arm as she looked over at Hugh. “That’s him, the mystery man! Hugh Jackman!”

You suppressed a laugh, nodding. “Yes, I know.”

“And you’re not going to say anything?” she asked, incredulous.

“I think he’d rather enjoy his coffee without being mobbed.”

Signora Rossi huffed but sat down, unable to keep her eyes off Hugh. Meanwhile, you kept sneaking glances as well, but you didn’t say a word.

Just as you were wiping down the counter, Hugh stood up and approached. Your heart gave a little jump as he walked toward you, holding his empty cup.

“That was the best cappuccino I’ve had in a long time,” he said, his smile genuine.

You shrugged, playing it cool. “I try.”

He laughed softly, glancing around the café. “This is a nice place. How long have you had it?”

“About two years,” you replied, feeling more at ease now that he was talking to you like any other customer. “Moved here from New York. Decided I needed a change of pace.”

“New York, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “I know that feeling.”

There was something in the way he said it—like he, too, was running from something. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you felt a flicker of connection. But then, just as quickly, he smiled again, and the moment passed.

“Well, thanks again for the coffee,” he said, pulling out his wallet to pay.

You waved him off. “On the house. Consider it a welcome to Portofino.”

He looked at you, surprised but grateful. “Thanks. I’ll definitely be back.”

He held out his hand, his touch warm and firm as you shook it. “I’m Hugh, by the way.”

You smiled, feeling a slight blush on your cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Hugh.” You said before telling him your name.

With that, he left, the bell chiming softly behind him. You watched as he walked down the street, his figure disappearing into the sunlight. There was a new excitement in the air, a spark of something more than just a casual encounter.

Signora Rossi was practically vibrating with excitement. “You didn’t even ask for a picture!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’ll be back.”

As you turned back to the counter, a small smile tugged at your lips. Maybe this summer wouldn’t be so uneventful after all.

~🌻~

A few days passed, and just as Hugh had promised, he returned. He’d become something of a regular at Il Sogno, always slipping in quietly in the morning, ordering a cappuccino, and settling into his usual spot near the window with a book. You’d exchange polite smiles and brief pleasantries, but nothing more than that. He seemed to enjoy the peaceful anonymity, and you didn’t want to disrupt his quiet.

The locals, however, were not so subtle. Every time he came in, you caught people stealing glances or whispering to each other, no doubt recognizing him. But Hugh seemed unfazed, content to sit by himself, unnoticed for the most part.

~🌻~

It was a Thursday afternoon when things finally changed. The café was quieter than usual, only a couple of tables occupied by some tourists flipping through the books they’d found on your shelves. The air was warm, with a soft breeze drifting in from the open door, carrying the scent of the sea.

You were wiping down the counter when you noticed Hugh had taken a different seat than usual—this time, at the counter. He slid onto the barstool across from you, cappuccino in hand, giving you that same easy smile.

“Slow day, huh?” he asked, his voice casual as he took a sip from his cup.

“Yeah, it gets quieter after lunch. The tourists are usually at the beach by now,” you replied, setting the rag aside. It was strange to see him up close, talking to you like this, but strangely, it felt... nice. Familiar, even.

“Perfect time for a coffee, then,” he said, his gaze wandering around the café before settling back on you. “You’re lucky. This place is something special. Must’ve taken guts to move all the way from New York and start this up.”

You smiled, leaning slightly against the counter. “It wasn’t easy, but I needed the change. New York is... a lot. Portofino is the opposite—quiet, calm. Exactly what I needed.”

Hugh nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I know the feeling. I came here for the same reason—needed to get away for a while, clear my head.”

There was something in his tone, a hint of exhaustion hidden beneath his easygoing demeanor. You could relate—life in the city had a way of wearing people down, even someone like Hugh.

“So,” he continued, taking another sip, “have you always wanted to run a bookstore café?”

You chuckled softly, wiping your hands on a towel. “Honestly? No. I studied literature in university and always dreamed of being a writer, but... running this place has become something I love more than I expected.”

Hugh’s eyes lit up with interest. “Literature major? That explains the excellent book selection here. I’ve picked up a few from your shelves already.”

You smiled, feeling a flush of pride. “I try to keep it interesting. What are you reading right now?”

He tapped the cover of The Count of Monte Cristo he had with him. “A classic. One of my favorites. What about your favorites?”

“Oh love that book! I already saw you with it one time. I have a soft spot for anything by Fitzgerald,” you admitted. The Great Gatsby... it’s been my favorite since I was a teenager.”

Hugh smiled warmly. “Ah, Fitzgerald. A romantic at heart.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said with a small laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m a sucker for those tragic love stories.”

“Well,” Hugh said, his tone teasing, “I’m not sure that’s the healthiest thing to admit.”

You laughed, the sound filling the quiet café with a warm, inviting tone. There was a spark in his eyes that made you feel more connected than ever, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle way he leaned closer, as if the conversation was something he genuinely cherished.

“I guess I like my love stories with a bit of drama,” you replied, your eyes meeting his with a playful glint.

Hugh leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the counter. “So, does that mean you believe in happy endings, or...?”

You paused, feeling the intensity of his gaze. There was something deeply intimate in the way he looked at you, making you feel as if the café had faded away and it was just the two of you. “I think... I like the idea of them,” you said softly.

Hugh’s expression softened, and he smiled warmly. “Yeah, me too.”

The moment hung between you, filled with unspoken possibilities. The air seemed to shimmer with the promise of something more, something beyond the casual encounters of the past few days.

Just then, the door chimed again, and a group of tourists entered, their laughter and chatter breaking the spell. Hugh glanced at them, then back at you. “Looks like your peaceful café just got a bit livelier.”

You chuckled. “Looks like it. I’ll get back to work, but feel free to stay as long as you like.”

Hugh nodded, standing up. “I think I might just take you up on that at another time. I have a ticket for a tour this afternoon. But thank you for your company.”

As he left, the door chimed softly behind him. You watched him walk down the street, a part of you wishing he’d stay a bit longer. The gentle buzz of the café returned, but the earlier conversation lingered, making you smile with a mix of excitement and contentment.

~🌻~

Later that afternoon, while you were tidying up the shelves, Signora Rossi approached with a knowing smile.

“You seem quite taken with our new guest,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You looked up, surprised by her observation. “Oh, it’s not like that. We’ve just been talking.”

“Talking and talking,” she said, her grin widening. “He’s a charming man. And it’s clear he enjoys your company.”

You blushed slightly, trying to hide your smile. “I suppose he does.”

Signora Rossi’s eyes twinkled. “Well, don’t be surprised if something more comes of it. Sometimes, summer in Portofino has a way of making dreams come true.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not sure about that, but I do enjoy his company.”

~🌻~

As the days went on, Hugh became more than just a regular customer; he became a fixture in your daily routine. Each visit was marked by easy conversation and shared laughter. You started to look forward to his visits more and more, the highlight of your day.

One warm evening, as you were closing up the café, Hugh arrived. He looked slightly more relaxed than usual, as if the vacation had already begun to work its magic on him.

“Evening,” he greeted with a broad smile.

“Evening!” you responded, locking the door behind him. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just felt like enjoying the evening here,” he said, taking a seat at the counter. “Do you have any recommendations for a good spot to watch the sunset?”

You thought for a moment, then suggested a secluded spot by the harbor. “It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s worth it. Perfect for watching the sunset.”

Hugh’s eyes lit up with interest. “That sounds perfect. Maybe we could go together sometime?”

You felt a flutter of excitement at the invitation. “I’d like that.”

As you finished up for the evening, you and Hugh talked about your favorite spots in Portofino, and he shared more about his travels and experiences. The connection between the two of you seemed to deepen, and as the sun set over the small town, you couldn’t help but feel that this summer was turning into something unexpectedly special.

You said your goodbyes with a promise to meet up the next day to watch the sunset. As you watched Hugh walk away into the twilight, you felt a mix of anticipation and contentment. This summer was shaping up to be far more than you’d ever imagined.

🏷️: @marvelgirlie-4 @melaninjoys @selencgraphy @iluvfanficsstuff @princessanglophile @persiar9 @cici-sunshine @kissmxcheek @mihaser @pedroscurls @shybluebirdninja @starryeddie @kellyxo1 @ivhoery @whimsiwitchy @corvusmorte @mega-kittyglitter-1 @insomniachox @plagued-kitty @girlydollydarling @gingerplague @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @mother-petunia @arthurcerverogf @white-wolf-buckaroo @boomveronika @chronicallybubbly @subbbyharry @reidsworld @acescutejeans-1247 @shukirschtein14 @wolviesgirl @rediscoveringgemma @snowyminty @softheobsessedone @erik4mc0 @tinawantstobeadoll @seasonofthenerd @pookeymoo @tnu-ree @weskerussy @queenblair92 @coco177 @giuliahowlett @samsbirks @pear-1206 @needz1nk @lunarynn @bobthe-turmpetman29 @lindonelvenqueen @mica-2203 @alexandralibbre @dragovegogrimborn @kanedaluvr

I AM SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS STORY WITH YOU ALL!!

(I’m sorry if some of the tags aren’t working, i tried to change them but Tumblr doesn’t let me, i’ll try again in the next chapter! )

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know ❤️

#hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman imagines #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine

325 notes · View notes

breakyourrxles · 1 month ago

Text

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟙𝟘

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

↳ You become comfortable... and suppose you always knew that it would eventually lead to your breaking point.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [6,5k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

Eric's voice drops to just above a whisper and he says, "It's gotta be pretty obvious by now, right? Everything? I can promise you he isn't just handing out his personal information to any pretty girl at a fansign."

Weekends are long with music show promotions and additional schedules fitted into all of the potential breathing spots. Days feel as though they never truly end with the next starting shortly after and with next to no time in between. You're tired, you're overworked, but this is the life that you knew you were signing up for.

You are given a Monday. A single Monday morning where you are gifted by chance the opportunity to not have a schedule. Sleep feels as though it is an impossibility to ever truly catch up on, and your body is so used to waking at the early, dark hours of the night that even with nothing to do, rest can no longer find you.

Thus, you shoot off a text. A hope for companionship that carries no expectations along with it.

"Good morning, I've already got you a coffee. Looks like you could use it."

Juyeon's thoughtfulness is something you have grown only somewhat accustomed to, because he is inclined to think of things long before you have had the chance to. He smiles at you gently from his seat at the small table and the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and blooming pastries from the back of the building fills the room with otherwise quiet welcoming.

You sit down across from him and immediately drop your forehead to the table.

"That bad, huh?"

Groaning, you only barely lift yourself to grant him your attention. "I feel like I've been awake for a week straight."

"Yeah, that's not uncommon. There's more where that came from." Pushing the mug towards you, it lightly bumps your hand. "Drink up, I'm sure you've got stuff to do in the afternoon, too."

"Of course I do. There's always something."

Through idle conversation you discover that The Boyz are slated for a comeback in the not so distant future. It will be their first since MVNE's debut, and you're interested to watch the inner workings of a group you have followed as a fan for so long from the inside, rather than out. Maybe you can learn something from all of this; develop better time management, figure out a way to not feel as though all of your strength is being sucked out of your body each and every day.

Unfortunately, the expectations of a rookie group and that of a far more established one are different, and this is something that you know all too well already.

Eventually, Juyeon finishes his drink and shoves the empty mug off to the side. His elbow comes up to sit atop the polished wood of the table and his chin sits just inside of his palm. He looks at you with a sort of amused adoration that you've never quite seen from him, though you have seen it before.

"It's nice that we can meet like this," he says.

Something inside of your chest flutters ever so slightly, and that is wholly unexpected. You feel the same, because this is the closest thing you have to anything resembling what's left of your real and normal life.

It's so much easier to carve out normalcy with Juyeon than it is to do so with Sunwoo, a fact that is terribly unfair to either of you, but a fact nonetheless.

And Sunwoo is not the only person not currently present that springs to mind.

Nervously shifting in your seat, you chuckle under your breath and say, "Well, as it would turn out, there are other people who wouldn't mind having this opportunity to sit here with you."

Juyeon's eyes widen just for a second, seemingly surprised by the news.

"Is that so?"

"My member Nara," you begin, "Turns out she has taken quite a fancy to you." Neither of you say anything for a few long moments after that, and though you are somewhat expecting a response from him, nothing ever comes. So, you prompt him further by saying, "She's pretty, talented; has a strong personality that I actually think would match you quite well. What do you think?"

Giving something of a half-smirk, Juyeon sits back in his chair and slumps down just a bit. He crosses his arms over himself and looks up towards the ceiling as if he is mulling the information over in his mind thoroughly before ever offering up a response. While he does so, you simply watch and wait.

Finally, he sighs and says, "I can't say I'm really looking to get involved with anyone right now." His attention is still up and away; thoughtful and rife with consideration. "I'm sure she's lovely, and I certainly have noticed her on the stage, it's just…"

Juyeon trails off, and finally, his gaze falls back down squarely to you.

"It's not easy doing this. Meeting someone, getting to know them, navigating everything that comes before establishing whether or not we're a good fit for one another. It's a lot of work in the best of circumstances—when there's just two normal, curious people with an inkling of interest—much less given all of these added hurdles."

Leaning forward and fitting his chin into his palm once more, he smiles at you and says, "I'm afraid I'm just not up to the task right now, and particularly not with someone that I've not already traversed those hurdles with. I prefer it when it's easy, when it's natural." A contented sigh follows, and finally his smothering attention towards you breaks in favor of the croissant sitting on the plate between you. "I like to let things happen, and it'll all fall into place like it's meant to."

The spell you'd been inadvertently locked into breaks, and you're not sure you've taken a single breath while Juyeon's sights have been set on you.

When the music cuts off, you know what's waiting for you on the other side of it.

For now, the room is filled with damp, heavy air and the rhythmic sounds of heavy breathing. You slump down to rest your hands against your knees—it's been two hours of nonstop dance practice and going over certain routines—and to say you're tired is an incredible understatement.

You've not spent much time with Woori in the last few weeks, since right before and leading through your comeback promotions. Not alone, at least. All of MVNE are racking up a dense list of personal schedules, not to mention full group engagements, and personal time spent with the members dwindles throughout the days; right before your very eyes.

Before you've really noticed, it's all just sort of gone.

But Woori has asked you to be here with her today during some of the few hours that the both of you have managed to carve out simultaneously. She could be spending this time doing anything else; resting, relaxing, tending to the relationships outside of her career that, like everyone else's, have surely suffered.

Instead, she is here with you.

A loud sigh is exhaled from behind you, followed by the crinkling of a roughly-handled water bottle soon to be consumed. You glance back ever so slightly, but before you are fully able to turn a hand is extended with a bottle intended for you.

Accepting it, you stand fully, and for what feels like the first time since this excursion has begun, both of your attention is fully resting on the other.

"I need to ask you this, because it's my job," Woori says. There is little combativeness in her tone despite what the words themselves might suggest, and rather, the air of it all gives a sense of anticipation. Anticipation towards something else, perhaps something more akin to disappointment. "Realistically, I've accepted a long time ago that I am not your mother, nor do I want to take on that role in the group. Still…"

Your eyes remain fixed on her through a bout of momentary silence until she finally continues on to say, "You and Sunwoo."

Though your stomach drops, you do your best to mask it. Instead, your features twist into evident confusion. "What about us?"

"That's what I'm asking you. It's going to be easier for everyone going forward if I know about things that I can get ahead of."

You wonder if she knows. If somehow, word has traveled through the pipeline of onlookers living at an apartment complex where you definitely shouldn't have been. Being set up to lie is far from an ideal circumstance, and if Woori knows about your escapades either following Idol Radio or showing up to Sunwoo's shared accommodation, you'd prefer her to just come out with it.

The irony of desire for a truthfulness that you, yourself, are unwilling to give is not lost on you.

Taking a long sip of water, your eyes fall away from her in correlation with what you can only assume to be guilt.

"Nothing is going on," you lie. "If anything, I see Juyeon these days more often than I see him."

"Is that because he's busy, or something else?"

"Sunwoo is my friend, I shouldn't be demonized for wanting to see him. I understand that the circumstances are the way they are but there are other people inside of our very own group who are hoping to plant the seeds of express interest, yet all of the concern seems to be set on me."

Woori's eyes narrow in a kind of way that alludes to her not being aware of the thing that you are calling attention to. Good, you think, because deflection was precisely the plan.

"Put a pin in that other thing for a second," she says, exhaling a deeply perturbed sigh, "but you know the stakes are incredibly high in your situation specifically. Even just with his little stint on Idol Radio the reception was not all that positive, and that's just from him vaguely bringing the fact up. What do you think is going to happen if it were to ever come out as there being fire behind the smoke?"

"I know that. Nobody knows that better than I do."

"Lines have already been crossed," Woori warns, "I've seen it with my very own eyes, and who's to say what else I haven't seen?" She sighs again, allows a second of silence to pass between you and then says, "Miyoung said you weren't home the other night with the rest of them."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, you're going to tell me, and then we're going to drop the subject for now. I don't enjoy rehashing this any more than you do."

More water, because it buys you some time. You drink it down and think through your options as far as this line of questioning is concerned. You're not going to tell her—you can't tell her that you went to his dorm—but at this point you have also lost the ardent will to defend yourself to any believable length. If it is always going to be like this, if you are always going to be on the receiving end of doubt; then why bother making such an effort to be especially believable?

Until something definitive is seen, then nothing you or Sunwoo do really, actually matters.

"I went for a walk. We don't get out much these days."

Woori merely stares at you. Her expression is fairly unchanged, and though there is little present to work from, what you most certainly find hanging there is doubt.

She sucks her teeth loudly and as if never having heard your response at all she says, "And what's this about the other thing then?"

"Oh, Nara's sudden budding intrigue in Juyeon, you mean?" You huff out a disbelieving laugh under your breath. "Seems like you've got your work cut out for you, leader."

"That's… Unpleasant," is all she says for a good few moments after the fact, as if giving herself time to navigate through her own thoughts on the matter. "But I don't need to tell you it's not the same thing."

Already having made your way to your disheveled bag and gathering your belongings, you shrug.

"Yes, I believe we've been over that more than a handful of times."

"I'll deal with Nara, but at the end of the day I don't have control over what she decides to do," Woori reasons. "Just like I don't ultimately have control over what you decide to do, either. In a perfect world and if things were up to me, we'd be at least—oh, I don't know—two or three years into our careers before I have to deal with an absolute avalanche of dating scandals?"

You look back at her from over your shoulder, and though you don't immediately reply, the face you give is loud with seriously?

"Juyeon isn't interested," you say. "So, I don't think you have to worry too much about that."

Woori hums. "I'm not so sure this is putting my concerns to rest," she says, eyes narrow and distrusting after having been presented with new information. Perhaps, more information than you had ever intended on giving. "If anything, it may be introducing more."

"First you're upset about the possibility of a relationship forming, now you're upset that it won't be?" you question. "Some leaders can never be pleased, I suppose."

"My qualms definitely aren't with his alleged disinterest in her."

You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door with Woori alongside. There's little more than a split second that goes by where the two of you meet eyes, and through that exchange alone, you already come to an understanding of everything she is concerned by.

Whether or not it's for good reason, remains yet to be seen.

"It's why," she says.

Enthralled with the conversation you are engaged with, you don't even notice the nearing doom that is soon to descend upon your table at the company cafe.

A plastic tray drops down with a loud thud, all three of you start as a result of it. You, Serri and Kaia all immediately look up with disgusted expressions to discover the culprit of your interrupted good time.

To say you're not expecting it would be an understatement.

"Hi."

Eric stands there beside your table with his arms limply by his side, but there is nothing casual about his face. Instead, there's a hint of a smile that you absolutely do not like the look of, and naturally; his attention has fallen fully to you.

Serri's eyes drift from him and back to you. She says, "Do you know him?"

"Sort of," you answer. "I mean, in a kind of colloquial sense." Still facing Eric, you then choose to address him going forward. "Can we help you?"

"No. Well, sort of. I want to talk to you."

Not ideal.

There are few things on the docket of potential discussion points that might ever lead Eric to needing to talk to you, and in fact, there's really only one. One topic that you do not need brought up in the company of other people, and you would even go as far as to say should make rather obvious reasoning for not approaching you in that very same company, at all.

But, here he is. Not exactly gentle in his delivery, either.

Looking back to both of the girls for a second, you look to him again and say, "Okay, but I'm with my members, so—"

And just as quickly, both Serri and Kaia are gathering their things and seemingly moving towards making their fastest possible exit from the scene.

"No thank you," Serri says. "Whatever this is, I can assure you I don't want any part of it."

Kaia smiles, bows to him, and with swift agreement says, "Great seeing you, she's all yours!"

Just like that, they're gone.

Eric wastes no time plopping himself down into one of the just emptied seats, and pressing himself nearly halfway across the table—that still lingering, shit-eating grin ever present—he says, "Sunwoo."

You blink through silence a few times. "What about him?"

"You tell me! I heard about your little stint not that long ago, word travels fast through the dorms as I'm sure you could have anticipated. Changmin was very amused."

"Happy to provide some… amusement, I guess." You try your best not to let your discomfort in relation to the topic show, but sit wholly unaware of how good of a job you are actually doing. "I wanted to visit my friend, he's been busy lately. I'm sure you've noticed."

Waving a dismissive hand in the air, Eric rolls his eyes. "Sure, sure. Whatever. Do you really think I'm going to believe that? He told me how he showed up to yours that one time and you nearly tossed him over the side of the balcony railing, now all of a sudden you're showing up and I'm just expected to believe it's no big deal? Just felt like popping in for a visit? No big deal?"

He's annoying, but he is quite adept at doing fairly simple math.

Still, Eric probably means well but you can't let him in. As of now, comeback preparations for his group have begun ramping up, and with the years they have under their belt it results in longer days and much busier schedules than anything MVNE could even really begin to fathom yet. From one day to the next it feels like Sunwoo went from being almost obnoxiously underfoot to hardly ever heard from. Shows, practice, recordings and filming. If not one thing, there is always another waiting just around the bend.

As a result, communication with him has slowed nearly to a halt. Now, it is you who waits in the wings for a reply to a message that may not ever actually come. Humiliatingly humbling.

You spend a good portion of your days trying not to care.

Unfortunately, a byproduct of this is not entirely knowing where it is that the two of you stand. Sunwoo had been clear in the past; forthcoming and honest with his heart on his sleeve like he often does, and though your circumstances together had seemed to be headed in an evident direction then, the lack of communication has you wondering if at some point, unrealized by you, the path had diverted.

Maybe he is simply too busy to embark on that journey, and maybe a looming comeback and highly successful career is serving as something of a reminder of that fact.

Eric is still watching you.

"I guess I'm testing the limits of what I can reasonably get away with," you say, and it's not a complete lie. "I'm beginning to catch onto the fact that I take all of this just a little bit more seriously than everyone else does."

Jolting back, as if physically hit by the words you have just spoken, Eric's face twists like he can't believe what he's hearing, like it's the most absurd thing he has ever heard.

"You can't really believe that, right? That nobody else is taking their career seriously because they don't refuse to live, eat and breathe this shit every second of every day?" He snorts out a laugh and then continues on to say, "Come on, everybody clocks out. Even us. Even you."

"How are you not terrified of the prospect of becoming another article online? How do you not let that dictate your whole entire life?"

"Because it's going to happen anyway, whether I want it to, or not. Like, I could stay locked up inside of this building for months and if somebody wakes up one day and decides they want there to be some news about me, then there's going to be."

You raise an eyebrow. "So, what? Might as well give them something worth talking about then?"

He rolls his eyes again, as if quickly growing tired of your unrelenting antics.

"No, man! But listen… Is it really worth it to forgo every single aspect of yourself and your life just for this? Like, don't get me wrong, this is great, but it's all going to go away one day." Finally, he sets his sights on a melon slice sitting on his plate and shoves it into his mouth. "Most of us aren't going to still be doing this at 35, or 40; and then what do you have to show for it all? It's like starting again from scratch. At the very least, maybe you could have met someone along the way."

"I don't think most inactive idols who are married met their spouse while they were idols," you reason, but to that, Eric gives you a look of resounding doubt.

"A lot of them very much did."

Leaning back against the chair, Eric shrugs all nonchalant, like none of this really means anything to him either way. You know this to be untrue, however, due to his being here in any capacity whatsoever. It clearly does, and that fact alone rings alarm bells in your head.

He knows, he's onto you. It just so happens he has the tact not to say it out loud.

"Look, all I'm saying is that it doesn't have to be like this, you don't need to be so uptight about it all. No one else is, and most of them manage to escape out of the other side relatively unscathed. Think of it this way…" Eric meanders on the thought like he isn't entirely sure he wants to broach it to begin with, though ultimately, his nature betrays his sense of self-preservation. With another melon slice in hand, he waggles it vaguely in your direction and says, "How long were you following us as a fan—closely, might I add—and you never suspected a thing, now did you?"

A prior conversation with Juyeon springs to mind in that moment, but even more than that is the curious sensation that trickles up beneath your skin. You do think it through before rattling the question off, but you understand yourself enough to know that there was no chance of either of you leaving this interaction without it being laid out on the table.

"Sunwoo was…?"

"Ah!" Another melon slice is popped into his mouth, though he looks far too pleased with himself about all of this for your liking. He smiles through chews and says, "There's always women. Well, not always. I don't mean it like that…"

"Very tasteful…"

"You know what I'm trying to say! This isn't news to you so don't act like it is now just because you're all jealous and weird with each other, because the other thing you've no doubt learned through years of Sunwoo-viewing is that the bad boy schtick falls flat pretty much immediately once he's pressed about it. He's kind of a loser, a little pathetic but he means well. We like that about him, but girls don't. It's kinda like when you think you're buying a truck online for a killer deal and then it arrives and it's just a picture of the truck and then it's like oh, I guess that's why it was ₩1,000."

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a while after that, but eventually, Eric cuts through that once again.

"Anyway, you get what I mean."

"Was there a point to all of this?"

"Yes, the point is that a lot of people are probably going to tell you not to do anything to jeopardize all of this and I am here to tell you that you should forget everything they've ever told you and to just be smart, stay vigilant, and live your life. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity—all of this—so don't wake up one day and realize all you have to show for ten years of it is some Inkigayo trophies. Ya know, if you can help it."

The thought that follows is far and beyond against your better judgment, but Eric is nothing if not persistent, as well as offering a hefty dash of what you might consider to be some much needed hopeful optimism.

Your head falls into your hands, and with your face cradled between palms so tightly that it pushes and reforms the skin, you say, "So what you're saying is that I should just… date Sunwoo. Or whatever. That's what you're saying."

Sinking closer towards you over the table—so close that the scene probably appears incredibly inappropriate to any potential onlookers—Eric's voice drops to just above a whisper and he says, "It's gotta be pretty obvious by now, right? Everything? I can promise you he isn't just handing out his personal information to any pretty girl at a fansign."

"He certainly acts like he would."

Evidently the meeting has come to a rather abrupt end, because Eric shoots up from his chair and takes the tray back into his hands as he begins his self-aggrandizing strut away.

"That's the fun of it!" he says. "Playing pretend, give the people what they want, but at the end of the day; there's really only one."

Later that evening you receive a message.

The sound of it comes unexpectedly, and you're already fairly tucked into bed for the night on account of the late hour and much to do in the following days.

Your phone screen glows from the table beside you, and though you look at it suspiciously and have half a mind to ignore it, you cannot will yourself to do so.

Picking it up, you look at the notification and by some miracle, are surprised by what awaits you.

It's Sunwoo, and there's a photo attached. Your memory springs back to the last time he sent you a picture, and while you hope it's nothing of the sort, you are pleased to be hearing from him at all.

Filming for his drama often runs late at night and though you've not been able to meet with him much, occasionally the groups pass one another in the halls and you can see the evidence of a demanding schedule taking hold. His shoulders droop more, under eyes darker and a little less pep to his step than what you're used to seeing.

Now, past one in the morning, he is messaging you.

Opening the app, the photo that awaits you is not anything you could have anticipated. It certainly isn't in line with the previous one in question; A beautiful, darkened landscape of trees with fairy lights draped through them, a cobblestone path with a light dusting of snow covering it, and a charming, brightly lit coffee truck with a couple of staff members lingering in wait.

The fact that he would see this and then think of you is not at all lost. Sunwoo has always been something of a romantic at heart, and though a lot of time has been lost since the last time it has felt like something may have been developing, it feels so incredibly him at his very basic core.

There is no text, only the image.

So, you begin typing back to him. A feat that is far from simple like the times it may have been before, and now you feel a sense of anxiety when drafting up what best to say. Talking to Sunwoo used to feel so easy when perhaps there was nothing on the line in doing so.

A few beginnings are drafted and then quickly deleted in favor of something better that you haven't yet thought of. You sigh aloud inside of your dark, empty room and make a pointed effort to center your thoughts so that you can do this. You wanted him to message you, can't leave him waiting forever for a reply now.

Eventually, you figure maybe less thought is better, because overthinking it will make the entire thing seem forced and contrived. Nothing is different now just because a handful of the minute circumstances between the two of you have changed; it's still just you and Sunwoo, the same people from before, the same friendship from before.

Sort of.

You [01:16]: pretty! they really are going for that romantic dramatization aren't they? super late night for you huh.

Almost as soon as you send the message, the indication that Sunwoo is typing once again flies up. He must have been waiting for your reply—never even locked his phone in anticipation of it—and that thought reignites something that you can undeniably recognize as dangerous inside of you: Wanting.

S [01:16]: filming wrapped already, wanted to see if you're awake. can i come over?

Your vision blurs reading over the words.

The girls are home but the dorm has been deathly quiet for quite some time now. Every light is off save for a handful of nightlights that decorate the halls. It's unusual even for you to be awake at this hour with how busy you have been.

With your breath unsteadying, you inhale deep and begin typing your response.

You [01:17]: everyone is home, it's late

S [01:17]: not what i askedddddd yes or no

The fact that he is asking at all is already an incredible feat of growth as far as Sunwoo-relations are concerned. It's unusual for him to think anything through, much less have the foresight to ask for permission on a decision rather than default to seeking forgiveness after the fact. For this reason, you know that he is absolutely up to something, you just don't know what it is yet.

But maybe you want to find out.

With a shaky exhale that does not have the strength to steady your nerves, you type out your reply, and it is nothing more than a simple yes.

And for as much as you think yourself to be someone who has a relatively thorough understanding of his inner-workings, nothing could have prepared you for the next reply to come to you.

S [01:18]: outside. open up

Eyes widening, terror strikes you in that very moment and you leap to your feet. If any of the girls—or anyone else for that matter—happens to see him outside of your dorm it's going to be the unearthing of a whole set of problems that you very much prefer to remain buried. He's insane, and perhaps is a bit less calculated than you had just been giving him credit for, but more than all of that; it is exhilarating.

You pull on some sweatpants that might be backwards and rush yourself towards the front door as quietly as you possibly can. Looking towards the doors of your members, they are closed, but that does little to calm your fears as you begin to spiral into self-doubt about whatever it is that you have seemingly agreed to. Sunwoo cannot be seen here, not again, and you can only imagine that Woori's patience is growing rather thin despite not even understanding a fraction of the catastrophe that looms overhead.

Hand on the door, you take a deep breath and then… you open it.

What greets you isn't an adoring smile or a small wave, but the feeling of another body crashing directly into yours. You stumble back a few steps and try to maintain the wherewithal to deal with the door you could easily leave behind, but Sunwoo is handling it; removing himself from you only long enough to shut it as quietly as humanly possible, without so much as a single sound.

What follows is another flurry of lips, hands and teeth as he presses you into the kitchen and against the furthest back counter, a nook wholly out of sight should anyone cast a glance out from a doorway. Sunwoo's hands cradle your face as he kisses you, but this time is not like the last. There is nothing chaste nor gentle about his intent to taste you, and there is no effort from you not to meet him halfway in the endeavor either.

Sunwoo motions for you to hoist yourself up, and seated atop the faux-marble his hands drop to sit against your thighs. There is no sign of slowing down, only a desperate sense of urgency and the unraveling of something that has been too tightly wound for far too long.

It feels good. Too good. Intoxicatingly free to just let go.

Your hands slip down to disappear under his hoodie, quick to locate the flesh that resides somewhere underneath. His muscles tense and shift at the feeling of the touch, sensitive but pleased to be on the receiving end of it all the same. Sunwoo kisses you harder, deeper; gasps into your mouth at the feeling of your hands on him and you drink it all down like there is nothing else left in the room to sustain you.

When his mouth eventually begins to trail elsewhere, you are finally able to hear the heavy beating of your heart ringing through your ears. Plush, soft lips find their intended mark lust below your ear, a devilish tongue that rakes over any spot where his teeth had just been, and your head falls back against the wall a little bit harder than it should, given the necessity of secrecy.

His palms slide up your thighs and settle at your waist, though there is no intention of them staying there given the way fingernails graze at your skin as he slowly curls his fingers into the waistband.

The implications of it all bring you to a crashing halt, and still clutching at the skin of his waist you whisper out, "Wait…"

Sunwoo's head pops up only enough to make eye contact, and the look on your face must say everything that he needs to know, because a salacious grin curls into his lips before once again tending to the work at hand.

His lips find the shell of your ear, breath ghosting over it in ways that electrify your entire body.

"You think I'm gonna fuck you in your kitchen the first time?" he whispers, voice raspy and laden with lust. "Come on, you know me better than that."

Not that you had been meaning to, but if there had been a reply in wait from you it would have been ripped away right along with the firm yank of that waistband from your hips.

Fabric pools on the ground below, and Sunwoo comes up to kiss you again. This time it's brief; lips slide down the column of your neck and you're so dizzy with the immediacy of it all that it isn't until you hear the accidental brush of his knee against a lower cupboard and fingers curling into the fabric still sitting between your legs that you really start to put together the pieces of what's about to happen here.

That knowledge is just as quickly followed by the firm, pointed swipe of his tongue against you.

The gasp that escapes you is too close for comfort as far as volume is concerned. You sling a hand over your mouth, eyes dropping down between your legs to find his, and even more unfortunately for your resolve; he seems to be incredibly amused by it all.

Sunwoo wants you to give in to this, and give in to it, you do. Your free hand settles into his hair and your fingers wrap loose, black curls around and between them as he happily tastes you for the second time tonight. It's sloppy work; little finesse and an unfortunate lack of visual aid to help guide him in the search of having you finally unravel for him. It's so dark, and the both of you have to be even more silent during an exploration that is meant to be anything but.

As much as the odds are stacked against him, it may not end up a failure of an endeavor regardless. This moment has been cultivating for too long between secret meetings and stolen kisses. You can feel the blooming warmth of a release that hopes to come to fruition, and for all of the things that Sunwoo isn't, he does appear to be adept at reading the signs. For everything that he lacks as a result of the situation that the two of you have landed yourselves in, he is nothing if not eager; and that eagerness is hurtling you towards something that you can't be sure you'll be able to stifle when the time comes.

He shifts his position just slightly, and with the additional space he slips a finger inside and curls.

Every muscle in your legs tightens almost painfully so, your eyes screw shut and you have no other option than to drop the hand from your mouth, clutch onto the countertop edge, and pray that this isn't how it's all going to have to come to an end.

The way that the beginning of his name stutters out of your mouth in nothing more than a labored hiss is nearly humiliating, and maybe that's just something that you're going to have to make peace with in the morning. For now, it doesn't matter; the only things carrying any importance being Sunwoo's warm tongue firm and fast at work to make you come for him, and the vision of his eyes staring up at you as you do while he remains knelt down on the kitchen floor.

Through clenched teeth, it all culminates in one long, shattering blow. When you finally do come it's hard fought and leaves you nearly breathless as it takes you; no concern of sounds echoing throughout the dorm as your body heaves a lengthy, silenced gasp.

Sunwoo takes an asserted care in slowing to a halt, though the aftershocks of sensitivity wrack your body with every feather-light glide of his tongue against your body.

When he brings himself back to a standing position, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and goes in to kiss you all over again.

"Don't make me wait so long next time, would you?" he says against your lips, "I've been waiting ages, it's been excruciating."

"You poor thing," you reply through exchanged kisses. "How ever did you survive?"

Sunwoo hums like something exceedingly sinful has come to mind in response. Eyes still blown out with lust and no such release for himself anticipated here.

"I'll give you a play-by-play of exactly how I survived another time." He kisses you again, this time fuller and with more intent and then says, "You prefer video, or video call?"

Your hands once again curve up to feel the skin of his body beneath his shirt, and Sunwoo just about melts into the touch that you offer. His eyes fall closed, lips lazily meeting yours for the affection that you're offering.

"This is going to be a thing now, isn't it?" you ask, knowing full well that the damage is already done.

"We tried it their way. I like our way better."

And unfortunately, you find that the same goes for you.

end of act 2! 🫣

#sunwoo smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

72 notes · View notes

kitten4sannie · 2 years ago

Text

𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇

pairing: husband! san x fem! reader

genre: smut, fluff

summary: when san is forced to work overtime on your birthday, he wants to make up for it.

w.c: 4k

warnings: switch! san, pussydrunk san, switch! reader, praise, pet names, dirty talk, brief spit kink, begging, teasing, strength kink, oral (f receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, crying, creampie, breeding kink, brief cockwarming

a/n: this is a birthday present for my lovely best friend nora @cheollipop ilysmmm <3

song recs: get you by daniel caesar, yeah i said it by rihanna, aphrodite by rini

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

When San’s boss set a fresh stack of files on the desk inside his already cramped cubicle, San found himself opening his mouth to protest, “Sir, it’s already half past 8…Do you think I could possibly work on this tomorrow? It’s my wife’s birthday today, and I wanted to–”

“San, San, San,” his boss interrupted with an air of arrogance, setting his hands down on the salaryman’s tense shoulders. “We all have to make sacrifices in this company, you know? You’re not the only one. I’m sure your wife will understand when she sees the extra dollar signs in your paycheck at the end of the week.”

San sat still in his swivel chair, not letting the rage seep past his eyes, envisioning all the ways he could retaliate against the older man standing above him. His hand nudged his stapler. He glanced at his favorite coffee-stained mug that you gave him; it had various adorable cats painted on the porcelain. It’d probably feel immensely satisfying to smash it into the man’s head, but he would never give it up in such a way. Violence was never the answer, of course. Though he was extremely tempted to just rip his computer away from its cords and toss it at the man, he wouldn’t. He needed this job, and he needed to get this sudden influx of work done so that he could get home to you.

Eventually, San blinked up at the man, replying like a robot that had just been rebooted, “On it, boss.”

“That’s lovely to hear. That’s why you’re my favorite employee, Sannie boy,” the man chimed, smacking San’s shoulder in an overly aggressive manner.

Once San gave his boss a tight-lipped smile and a double thumbs up that turned into middle fingers as soon as the man turned his back, he pulled his phone out to dial your number. “Baby?” he mumbled out in an extremely soft voice as soon as you picked up.

“Hey, hun,” you replied excitedly, sliding your phone into the space between your shoulder and your neck so that you could put your cake into the fridge, sticking a candle into it. “Are you on your way home? I picked up a red velvet cake for us to share. It’s got this really fancy buttercream and these little gold flakes sprinkled all over it. I asked the guy and it’s real 24k gold! Isn’t that cool?” Noticing the overwhelming silence in the receiver, you closed the fridge and pressed your back to it. “San, are you okay?”

Opening one of the files and staring down at the endless strings of text informing him of sales percentages and various investments from clientele, San sighed, “I have to work overtime, baby. That old bastard isn’t letting me leave until I get all this shit done. I’m…” Frustrated at his lack of control over the situation, he raked his fingers through his gelled-up hair, not even caring that some of the raven strands began to stick out. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m really, really sorry…”

“San, it’s okay. It’s okay, love,” you said with a warmth that would hopefully give him some reassurance, hearing him let out a small sigh into your ear. “It’ll still be my birthday when you get back, okay? So just take a deep breath, get the work done, and come home to me.”

San opened a new document up on his computer to get started, slowly drawing air into his lungs and letting it out, smoothing his hair out a bit. He smooshed his cheek against his phone, allowing you to tell he was pouting when he answered as gently as possible, “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll be home as soon as I can to tell you in person.”

Feeling a smile tug at your lips, you idly rolled your wedding ring around on your finger, grateful to have such a sweet angel of a man as your life partner. “I love you too, darling. I’ll see you soon.” Pushing your lips together, you lowered your phone to your mouth to add, “Mwah.”

“Mwah,” San returned instantaneously, a similar smile forming on his face, much more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago. Once you exchanged goodbyes, he gave his knuckles a good crack and admired his silver wedding band for a few seconds before getting to work.

It was a little past 11 when San finally pushed past the front door and slid out of his work shoes, meeting your gaze from across your shared apartment, seeing you sitting at the kitchen table by yourself with the cake positioned in front of you and a small lighter laying on the table. “Baby,” he let out in a sigh of relief, dropping his suitcase onto the floor and walking in your direction to pull you up from the seat into one of his famous tight bearhugs, enveloping you in his warm, inviting scent. “Happy birthday. I love you.”

“Mm, thank you, love. I love you too.” Just as you were about to ask him about work, he clutched the back of your head and pressed his lips against yours to give you a kiss, one that was gentle at first, but grew more firm in the next passing seconds. Despite missing the taste of his lips when he pulled away, you caressed his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over his sharp jaw, feeling the scruffiness of the facial hair that was growing in. “How was work? Shitty?”

“Shitty,” he echoed, just as he pressed his mouth to your own jaw, leaving kisses along it, as well as your cheeks, your nose, your neck, and basically anywhere he could feel your warm skin against him. “But I’m home now, so I couldn’t be happier.” San brought his mouth to your forehead to give it a long kiss, running his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to light the candle or should I, baby?”

“You do it for me,” you said, squeezing his shoulders a bit, before sitting back down in the chair, watching as San sat in the one adjacent to you.

When you handed him the lighter, San brought it to the candle sitting inside the personal sized cake and lit the wick, admiring the way the flame illuminated your pretty face. “You’re so beautiful…” he sighed out, leaning his head against the palm of his hand, continuing to admire you, feeling as though he might begin to melt like the candle below. “My beautiful baby.”

“Stoppp,” you whined softly, heat rising to your cheeks, still barely able to handle the way San looked at you after all these years — with such intensity visible inside his brown eyes that you wholeheartedly believed him when he said that he wanted to give you the entire world. You were his muse, after all. His angel from above. His everything.

“Never.” San gave you a gentle smile as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss the top of your hand, singing a soft rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ in his silky smooth voice, bringing a shy smile to your own face. Once he was done, he pressed more kisses into your skin, running his thumb over your knuckles as you gazed back at him. “Make a wish, love.”

“Why make a wish when I have everything I want now?” you asked, watching as he played with the wedding ring on your finger, the candle below beginning to melt into the frosting.

San let out a sigh, pressing his warm cheek to your open palm, looking at you like he did years ago when you had first met, unbearably love-struck, lips parted and twinkling eyes full of devotion for his beloved. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he purred, guiding your hand downwards to press a kiss onto the pad of your thumb and following your intense gaze to his mouth. “But, right now, in this moment, isn’t there something you desire?”

A familiar feeling of warmth flooded your core, thoughts of San taking care of you in ways only he was capable of suddenly urged you to blow the candle out. You knew what you needed. Of course, San was a devoted husband in every sense of the word, but in the bedroom, he brought that to a staggering degree, always willing to please you in every way he could, loving when you used him for your own pleasure, just as much as he loved giving it to you without any restraints.

“What did you wish for, love?” San inquired, sticking one finger into the cake to scoop up some frosting and holding it up to your mouth, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You accepted his finger inside and sucked the sweet cream off of it, emitting a small ‘mmm.’ “I want you on your knees, Sannie. I want you to please me.”

“Anything for you, my love.” San lowered himself onto the ground before you and began to loosen his tie until he could take it off, feeling a pleasurable heaviness envelop his body now that he was on his knees for his one and only. There was no place he’d rather be. After taking in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat, San began to slide his hands up one of your legs, lifting it up to leave a trail of kisses up to your thigh, stopping now and then to admire your soft skin and the intense gaze you were giving him. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, my love. I’ll give you everything I have…” he murmured in between kisses, slowly reaching up underneath your dress to hook his fingers into your panties.

“You promise?” you teased in a soft voice, lowering your other foot down to press into his crotch, the pad of it rubbing along his work pants, feeling the solid outline of his cock pressing against it.

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his lips forming his signature pout, unconsciously spreading his knees apart, about to pull your panties from your hips when you pushed your foot down a bit harder, earning a small gasp from him, his fingers resting against your waist instead of continuing his quest to strip you.

Biting into your lower lip, you relieved the pressure you had on him, slowly standing up out of the chair and just barely lifting up the front of your dress to give him an upskirt view. “Use your teeth.”

“Yes, angel. Whatever you want, I can do…” San swallowed down some of the saliva that persistently tried to overflow and drip down his chin, gingerly kneading his hands into your soft thighs, pressing his cheek to it, looking up at your clothed pussy, his cock already throbbing away inside his pants. He moved his head up underneath your dress and got the lip of your panties in between his teeth and slowly pulled it downwards, audibly groaning as he witnessed a string of arousal drip from your heat and down your inner thigh.

Watching him with bated breath, you resisted the urge to grab the back of his head and fuck his face, desperately wanting to hear him whine and beg for you to come inside his mouth. “You can lick it up, Sannie. Go ahead…”

Your husband’s eyes practically twinkled with gratitude, choosing to pull your panties down the rest of the way and off of you, releasing them from his teeth and holding them against his crotch, rubbing them against his cock as he dragged his tongue up your inner thigh, catching your arousal on his tongue. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good. Let me eat your pretty little pussy, angel. Please, I need it.”

“I think you can handle waiting a little longer, don’t you think, Sannie?” you mused teasingly, reaching down to press your pointer finger up into his chin, chuckling at the soft gasp that escaped his glistening lips. He was always like putty in your hands. Always ready to worship at your feet if you simply said the words. While that left you breathless, what you really relished was when you pushed him so far that he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore and gave you his all, even if that meant passing out from pure exhaustion afterwards.

“Yes, my love, I can wait. I can wait for you.” Your husband rested his hands down on his upper thighs, his teeth instantly digging into his lip as you took a step closer, your dripping pussy directly in front of his face.

Holding your dress up with one hand, you used the other to spread your pussy apart, your slick dripping down your inner thighs, making sure to push your fingers together and rub them in an up and down motion, making small wet sounds with your movements. “You want your wife’s pretty pussy in your mouth, don’t you, Sannie? You want to taste me on your tongue? Lap my cum up until you’re drowning in it? Is that what you want?”

San felt like he was going to lose his mind, gripping his work pants so tightly, he feared he might tear into them, unless his cock burst out of them first from how painfully hard he was. “Please, baby. I need you so fucking bad,” he choked out, tears stinging the corners of his coffee-colored eyes, resisting the urge to smash his face in between your legs when you grabbed him by the hair and angled his head back, whimpering softly at the grip you had on him. He wanted to be good for you. He had to be good, but he needed you on his tongue like he needed oxygen.

Once San uttered one last desperate ‘please’ in such a soft, tiny voice, you finally gave in, holding your dress up slightly with both hands and spreading your legs a bit more for him, feeling your core tighten and pulse at the sight of your husband’s teary eyes. If you were an angel, then he was heaven itself, and he probably saw you the exact same way. “You’ve been a good boy, Sannie, so come and get it.”

Like a puppy hearing the dinner bell, San was on you, pushing his head up underneath your dress, his mouth connected to your cunt, tongue lapping at your wet folds like it was his one and only mission, hands kneading into your thighs out of habit. “Thank you, my angel. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he moaned against your heat, slurping your arousal into his mouth and swallowing it down like you were an oasis and he was a weary traveler in search of a drink. He licked, and licked, and licked, not even thinking, before he reached behind you with his outstretched arms to pull the chair closer, guiding your hips downwards forcefully enough so that you had to sit down on the cushion below.

“S-Sannie,” you gasped, surprised by his sudden display of strength, your brain going a bit fuzzy as he shoved your thighs apart, then held them up and out of his way so that he could bury his face deeper in between them. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

San took a second to give you a dimpled smile, nuzzling your slippery inner thigh with his cheek, pressing a small, lingering kiss to your warm skin. “So bad, baby. You drive me fucking crazy.” His tongue was hot and wet against your cunt, practically melting against your folds, taking long, deliberate swipes up to your clit, before zoning in on it and sucking on it with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure through your lower half.

Unable to hold your voice back, you began emitting breathy, stunted moans, involuntarily bucking up into his mouth the more he licked and sucked at your clit, feeling your cheeks burn more and more the longer he gazed into your eyes. Though you swore you were used to the intense eye contact that San preferred to have with you, he still always managed to make you feel shy.

San took another quick breather to comment breathlessly, “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So sweet for me. So perfect.” Taking in your pretty flushed face and glazed-over eyes, he squeezed your thighs in between his thick fingers. “Come here, baby.” He pushed your thighs farther apart and leaned upwards, taking your chin in his grasp and pulling you into a much-needed kiss. Once you let him into your mouth to explore it with his arousal-coated tongue, San lowered his hand from your chin the eagerly rub your pulsing clit around in quick, deliberate circles with his thumb, automatically bringing two digits from his other hand to your cunt, your greedy hole sucking them up to his knuckles, not hesitating to piston them in and out of you. Your muffled moans and whines were like an angelic hymn that made him want to build you a shrine and worship you day and night on his aching knees like he was doing now. Once your legs hooked around his small waist, he quickened the pace of his digits, your wetness now so palpable it was beginning to spill out of you and down his veiny forearm, emitting a knowing ‘mm-hmm’, breaking the kiss as soon as you began to tighten up around him. “Angel’s gonna come for Sannie, huh?”

“Uh-huh, gonna come, Sannie,” you breathed out, licking at your lips and tasting the remnants of yourself on your tongue, swearing you were about to come instantly at the visual of your husband quickly lowering himself back down to your cunt to slurp at it, licking near the outline of his thrusting fingers and back up to your puffy clit, eyeing it longingly, before pursing his lips and spitting your arousal back onto it, only to attach back on it like a magnet.

As soon as he curled his fingers up and rubbed at your g-spot, hitting it in a way that had you fighting the urge to let your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, San spoke up, “That’s it right there, huh, baby? Right there?” As soon as you cried out for him, your throat hurting from how dry it was, San finger-fucked you into a state of pure ecstasy, not stopping until your arousal began to spray out of you and into his open mouth, coating his tongue. “Oh my god, look at you, baby. You’re squirting for me. You’re such a good girl.” He lowered his mouth onto your twitching cunt, not able to prevent a bit of drool from dripping past his swollen lips, lapping up the rest of your squirt with a few slow, lingering licks.

Once you had enough time to gather your bearings and catch your breath, San sat up and leaned in close to you, asking huskily, “Is there anything else my princess desires?”

“Your cock, Sannie. Give me your cock,” you answered instantly, not even caring about how desperate you sounded. You were desperate, and you knew San was too, given that he hadn’t touched himself a single time.

Just as quickly as you had answered him, San was already lifting you up into his arms and laying you down onto the kitchen table, spreading your legs apart and fumbling with his leather belt to take it off. Once it hit the floor with a thud, San pulled his aching cock out and slapped it down onto your pussy, watching some slick leak out. "Are you ready? Is my princess going to take all of my cock in this pretty little pussy?"

You nodded as quickly as you could, ready to drool over the thought of finally being filled by him, knowing you’d probably come as soon as he did.

San slowly moved his hips forward and back, sliding his thick length across your needy cunt, the slick sounds of your arousal making him groan. "Let me hear you say it, pretty girl. Tell Sannie how bad you want it."

"I need it so bad, so, so bad.” Just as San’s cockhead began to stretch out your hole, your plush walls clenching around him, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ready to beg on your knees just like he had done earlier. “I need your cock, Sannie, please. I want to be full just for you. Please, please, let me have it. I’ll be such a good girl for you, I promise!”

"God, you’re so cute when you’re begging for me, princess," San sighed longingly, caressing and rubbing your thighs with his thumbs, burning the image of your teary-eyed gaze into his memory. “But, don’t worry, I’m here. I’m going to fill you up, okay?” Smiling at the sight of your furious nods, he pushed back inside of you, inch by inch, making you let out a long, almost relieved moan, not stopping until your lower halves were pressed together.

Now that he was being squeezed by your tightness, San felt something switch on inside his brain, no longer concerned with teasing you, but instead overwhelmed by the desperate need to fuck you until you were a crying, cum-filled mess for him, and him alone.

Loud, wet slapping sounds began to echo throughout the kitchen, along with the thud, thud, thud of the kitchen table being rocked back and forth into the tile flooring below. “You’re so good for me, baby, so good,” San praised into your ear, his warm body flush against yours, slamming his hips into yours, appreciating the way you had your legs hooked around his small waist, locking him in place.

“Sannie,” you cried out, unable to stop pulsing around your husband’s thick length, feeling like you would go crazy from the way it was pounding into you. You reached your hands out, smiling when he immediately laced his fingers with yours, holding your hands down against the cool surface of the table. “I’m gonna come. It’s spilling out.”

“I’m going to come too, my love. Let’s come together,” he encouraged, squeezing your fingers against his own, slowing his pace down and fucking you in a more deliberate way, his thrusts slow and deep, hitting your sweet spot every time. Just as you began to mewl and babble from the overwhelming pleasure, San pressed his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans just as you swallowed his choked ones. It felt so good, he didn’t even realize when he started to cry, his hot tears dripping down his cheeks and landing onto your heated face. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy, sweetheart. Make you so full of my love. So, so full for me.”

“Yes, please, Sannie, fill me up.” Just as your body shook and trembled, your cum pouring out of you and coating your joined flesh, San’s hot load came pouring into you, filling you up to the brim like always.

“Here it comes, angel. Just for you. I love you so much,” he choked out, his voice raw and throaty from how hard he was cumming, blinking a few more tears away to focus on your pretty face, slowly going soft, but staying inside you, keeping you full of his warmth and love.

“I love you too, Sannie. So much,” you replied wholeheartedly, wiping one of his tears away as you brought him into another kiss, this one as gentle and sweet as the love he always gave you.

Slowly breaking the kiss, he pressed one onto your forehead, bringing you into a long hug, not planning on letting you go. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

➽───────────────❥

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#cultofdionysusnet #ateez #ateez smut #san #ateez san #san smut #san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #san x you #san x y/n #kpop smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #ateez hard hours

2K notes · View notes

trueebeauty · 8 months ago

Note

ahh i loved your fic about the kings + their problems!! the reverse comfort sprinkled in was just perfect <3 (these men make me so sad *sniffle*)

i would love if you could write some reverse comfort scenarios where they somehow end up crying in front of you, and you just (despite what they might be used to or fear) just hold them and comfort them and let them cry TT

you can decide who you want to write for, god knows they all need a good cry and a hug..

no pressure of coursw, and remember to takw care of yourself!! have a nice day/night :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes ; tysm!!! there are a bunch of requests very similar to this one, so I'll use your request for it!! <333

pt.1 of 'the kings + their problems

𝖩𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖪𝖶𝖠𝖪 - Jichang may initially resist comfort, feeling that as a leader he shouldn't show weakness. He's used to being strong and in control. But as you simply hold him and let him cry, he slowly allows himself to be vulnerable. Through his tears, he expresses feeling overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility and the need to always put on a brave face. Allowing himself to be comforted helps him release pent-up emotions and makes him feel less alone.

You sat across from Jichang as he sat there in silence, his head in his hands. Jihan and Jibeom had decided to pull a stupid prank on him by not responding to him for over six days, and he had been scared thinking something had happened to them.

"Jichang," you said softly, "they were just playing around, I don’t know wh–"

You stopped, noticing his shoulders start to shake. A quiet sob escaped him, muffled by his hands. Your heart ached seeing him like this, he was usually so calm and composed.

You moved to sit beside him, gently placing a hand on his back. "Hey," you murmured, "it's okay. They're safe. Everything's alright."

Jichang shook his head, still not looking up. "I thought... I thought something had happened to them. I was so scared." His voice was thick with tears, barely above a whisper.

You wrapped your arm around his arm, pulling him closer to you. "I know. It's a terrible feeling. But they're okay, I promise."

He leaned into you, finally lifting his head. His face was streaked with tears, his eyes red and puffy. "I feel so stupid," he choked out. "Getting this upset over a prank."

You shook your head, reaching out to wipe away his tears. "It's not stupid. You care about them, and you were worried. That's normal."

Jichang's lower lip trembled as fresh tears spilled over as you pulled him fully into your arms, letting him bury his face in your shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly. "It's okay…"

He clung to you, his body shaking with sobs. You held him tightly, providing a safe space for him to let go of the fear and stress and responsibility he always carried.

"I was so scared," he repeated, his voice muffled against your shirt. "I thought I'd failed them. Failed as a leader, as a brother."

"You could never fail them," you assured him. "You care so much, Jichang. It's okay to be scared sometimes. It means you love them."

He held onto you like a lifeline as he cried, letting out all the pent-up emotions. You stayed there, a steady presence, whispering reassurances and just letting him feel.

In that moment of vulnerability, he found comfort and strength in your presence. He wasn't alone. With you, he could be human. With you, he was safe.

𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖩𝖨 𝖸𝖴𝖪 - Seongji might feel ashamed and angry at himself for crying, seeing it as a sign of weakness unbefitting his tough persona. He tries to pull away at first, embarrassed to be seen in a vulnerable state. But as you continue to offer gentle comfort, he begrudgingly accepts it. He admits in a rare moment of openness that he's terrified of being seen as weak or incapable, having built walls to protect himself. Being held makes him feel safe enough to let his guard down for once.

You were in Seongji's room, quietly cleaning up the scattered medication that he had spilled. He was hidden away, but you could feel his presence, the tense silence heavy in the air. As you picked up each pill one by one, you heard a soft, choked sound. You looked over to see Seongji fighting back tears as he watched you.

You stood slowly, the pills forgotten. "Seongji," you said softly, approaching him cautiously.

He turned away, trying to hide his face as the tears began to cascade down his cheeks. "Don't," he choked out. "Don't look at me."

But you couldn't just leave him like this. You knelt down beside him with a frown, "What's going on?"

He shook his head, a sob catching in his throat. "I can't... I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired."

Your heart ached for him. You had known he was struggling, but you hadn't realized just how much.

"I'm so tired," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "And so scared..."

You slipped next to him, being mindful not to invade his space. "Why are you scared, Seongji?" you asked gently.

He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor. "The kids, Cheonliang, you... he's going to take everything from me."

"Seongji," you said softly, your heart breaking for him. You couldn't help but reach out, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched but didn't pull away. "Seongji, listen to me. He is wrong. You are enough, more than enough. And he can't take away the things that truly matter."

Seongji finally looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But what if he does? What if I lose everything?"

You moved closer, slowly, giving him time to move away if he wanted. When he didn't, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You won't lose me," you told him firmly. "No matter what happens, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

A sob caught in his throat. "I'm so scared of being alone," he confessed, his voice breaking.

You pulled him into your arms, and this time, he didn't resist. He melted into your embrace, his body shaking as he finally let himself cry. "You're not alone, Seongji," you murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. "You have me. You have Cheonliang. You have the kids. We're your family."

He cried harder at that, clinging to you like a lifeline. "I don't know how to do this," he gasped out between sobs. "I don't know how to let people in."

You held him tighter, resting your cheek on the top of his head. "You're doing it right now," you told him softly. "You're letting me in. And I'm so proud of you for that."

He sniffled, burrowing further into your embrace. "What if I mess it up? What if I push you away?"

"Then I'll come back," you said simply. "I'll always come back, Seongji. Because I care about you. Because you're worth it."

He pulled back slightly, searching your face as if looking for any sign of deception. When he found none, fresh tears spilled over. "Thank you," he whispered. "For being here. For... for loving me."

You smiled softly, wiping away his tears with gentle fingers. "Always," you promised. "You're stuck with me, Seongji Yuk. In good times and bad. I'm not going anywhere."

𝖳𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖮𝖮 𝖬𝖠 - Taesoo would likely feel uncomfortable crying in front of someone, not wanting to burden others with his problems. He apologizes repeatedly even as he can't stop the flow of tears. As you hold him and assure him it's okay, he hesitantly relaxes into the comfort. He confesses to feeling guilty for being selfish by accepting care and worrying he's being an inconvenience. Reassurance from you helps him start to believe that he deserves care too.

You walked into the bedroom, concerned that Taesoo had been gone for too long. There he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, lost in misery and unaware of your entrance.

"Taesoo?" you called softly.

His head snapped up, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said quickly, wiping his face. "I didn't hear you come in."

You frowned and stepped closer. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing. I'm fine."

But a tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. He furiously wiped it away, averting his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said again, voice thick. "I didn't mean to... I don't want to bother you with this."

Saddened by how much he held back, you sat beside him, gently rubbing his back. "You're not bothering me, Taesoo. I care about you. I want to be here for you."

His lower lip trembled as more tears spilled over. "I'm sorry," he whispered repeatedly, a broken record.

You pulled him into an embrace, and he went willingly, still apologizing. "It's okay," you murmured, rubbing his back soothingly.

He shook his head against your shoulder, tears soaking your shirt. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't burden you like this. I'm being selfish."

You held him tighter. "Well, I guess I'm selfish too."

"It's different," Taesoo retorted.

"How is it different?"

Quiet for a moment, his sobs gradually quieted to sniffles. "I feel guilty," he confessed softly. "Guilty for taking up your time, for being an inconvenience."

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face. He averted his gaze, ashamed, but you waited until he met your eyes. "You are never an inconvenience," you told him firmly. "Caring for you, being here for you... it's not a burden. It's a privilege."

Fresh tears of relief, of gratitude, welled in his eyes. "Do you really mean that?" he asked, voice small.

You smiled softly, wiping his tears with your thumbs. "Of course. Taesoo, you deserve care. You deserve love. You deserve to be held when you're hurting."

A shuddering breath escaped him as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for being here. For... for caring."

You wrapped your arms around him again. "Always," you promised. "I'll always be here, Taesoo. Whenever you need me."

He relaxed into your embrace, finally allowing himself to be comforted, to be cared for - a foreign but welcome feeling. For the first time in a long while, he felt safe. Loved.

"I'm sorry for being such a mess," he mumbled into your shoulder.

You chuckled softly, kissing his temple. "You're not a mess. And I love every part of you, even the messy parts."

He pulled back, searching your face. Whatever he found made fresh tears spring to his eyes, but this time he smiled. "I love you too," he said softly. "More than I know how to say."

Smiling, you leaned in to kiss him gently. "Then don't say it - show me instead."

Taesoo's eyes shone with tenderness as he cupped your face, kissing you deeply. You melted into his embrace, relishing his warmth, his closeness after such vulnerability. Slowly, almost reverently, he laid you back on the bed without breaking the kiss.

—The Rest Is To Your Imagination—

𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖦𝖸𝖤𝖮𝖭 𝖭𝖠 - Jaegyeon may seem unsure how to react to being comforted at first, torn between wanting to maintain his image and craving care. He's not used to being on the receiving end of comfort. But as you simply hold him without judgment, he allows himself to cry freely, expressing a need to always be perfect that leaves him fearful of failing. Being held makes him feel accepted as he is, flaws and all.

The news of Seongji's death hit everyone hard, but surprisingly Jaegyeon seemed the most affected. From what you knew, your boyfriend wasn't one to make friends - acquaintances sure, but actual friends?

That wasn't like Jaegyeon at all. You never realized how much he truly respected Seongji until now. You knew he had a better relationship with Seongji compared to the other kings, but you would've expected the others to be in the position you now saw your boyfriend in.

You approached him quietly and slowly, trying to gauge if he was okay with you being near. He looked up, eyes red and puffy. "I should have been there," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I should have stayed with him after he lost his fingers."

You sat down beside him with a small sigh. "Jaegyeon, you can't blame yourself. Seongji was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions."

Jaegyeon shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "But he wasn't at full power anymore. I knew that, and I still left him. If I had stayed..."

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You all knew that, but each one of you had your own responsibilities. Cheonliang was his, and Incheon yours." You paused, letting him take it in before continuing. "Besides, if you had stayed, Seongji might have felt offended, like you didn't believe in his ability to handle things on his own."

Jaegyeon was quiet for a moment, considering your words. "Maybe," he conceded. "But I can't help but feel like I failed him. Like I should have done more."

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "It's natural to have regrets, to question the 'what ifs'. But we can't change the past, Jaegyeon. All we can do is honor Seongji's memory and carry on his legacy."

Jaegyeon leaned into your embrace, his shoulders shaking as he finally allowed himself to cry. You held him tightly, providing a safe space for his grief.

"I miss him," Jaegyeon murmured. "Surprisingly. Never would I have thought I would ever say that."

You rubbed his back soothingly as a chuckle escaped you. "That hurts my feelings. I've never heard you say you miss me," you pouted.

"You're always with me," Jaegyeon said as he pushed you fully onto the couch, burying his face in your neck.

"Not by choice," you whispered in amusement before wincing slightly. "Ouch! Did you just bite me?"

Jaegyeon nodded against your shoulder, his tears gradually subsiding. "Yes," he said shamelessly, pulling back to wipe his face. "I heard that."

Your eye twitched before you tried to kick him, but Jaegyeon just managed a small smile as he caught your leg.

You glared at Jaegyeon, but there was no real heat behind it as he simply smirked and kept a firm grip on your leg. Realizing you were stuck, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"You're impossible," you grumbled, feigning annoyance.

Jaegyeon's smirk melted into a softer smile as he released your leg and shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your comforting scent.

"Maybe," he murmured against your skin, "but you love me anyway."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't fight the fond smile that tugged at your lips as you brought a hand up to card through his hair. Jaegyeon let out a contented sigh, pressing closer.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, finding solace in each other's embrace. The grief was still there, an ache in Jaegyeon's chest, but with you by his side, it felt...bearable. Manageable.

𝖦𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖡 𝖩𝖨 - Gongseob might worry he's being weak and childish for crying, even as he can't help but lean into the comfort of being held. He admits through tears that he feels he always has to be this ‘person’ and can't show sadness or pain. Being able to cry without being mocked or scolded comes as a relief. The simple comfort with no strings attached allows him a safe space to release hurt and be genuine.

You made your way through your newly bought temple, inspecting every nook and cranny while making notes here and there. Gongseob trailed behind you, his steps labored as he maneuvered on his crutches.

"Man, it's going to take a lot of work to get this place in shape," you commented, glancing around at the dusty shelves and cracked tiles.

Gongseob grunted in response, the effort of walking clearly straining him. An uncomfortable silence hung between you two.

It had been weeks since the incident with James Lee, where Gongseob lost his leg after having a building dropped on him. He had insisted he was fine, putting up a brave front as always. "I'm tougher than I look, you know," he'd joked with a forced grin.

But you knew him too well to fully believe that facade. The pain and trauma of such an event didn't just disappear with a few jokes.

You didn't want to press him, though. Gongseob would open up when he was ready. For now, you focused on getting the temple in order.

"Gongseob, why don't you rest for a bit?" you suggested, gesturing to a raised platform. "I can handle the rest of the inspection."

He shook his head stubbornly. "I'm fine. Don't need to sit around like some cripple."

A small frown tugged at your lips. "Can you not–" you sighed taking a moment. "It's about pacing yourself while you heal. Please, just take a break."

Gongseob opened his mouth, likely to protest further, but you fixed him with a pointed look. He deflated with a sigh.

"Fine. But I'm not just going to laze around," he muttered, already making his labored way towards the platform.

You nodded reluctantly. "Alright. I'll be back to check on you soon."

With that, you continued your inspection, mentally cataloging areas that needed repair or renovation. The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself going back glancing over at Gongseob's still form every so often.

Finally, you completed your rounds and turned to head back to him. "There's a couple of broken shelves that need to be replaced. We can look into that next..." Your voice trailed off as you took in the scene before you.

Gongseob was in the exact same position you had left him, perched on the edge of the platform. But now, his shoulders were shaking, and tears streamed silently down his face.

You were by his side in an instant. "Gongseob? What's wrong?"

He flinched at the sound of your voice, quickly swiping at his eyes. "N-Nothing. I'm fine."

But the waver in his voice told a different story. You settled down beside him, close but not crowding his space.

"Gongseob," you urged gently. "Please, don't shut me out again."

Gongseob was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the crutches leaning against the platform. When he finally spoke, his words were thick with unshed tears.

"I'm useless now," he whispered, anguish clear in his tone.

Your heart clenched before you pulled him against your side. "You are not useless, Gongseob," you said firmly. "Losing your leg doesn't change who you are or how much you mean to me."

He shook his head, a choked sound escaping him. "But I'm broken now. Weak. I can't even walk without these stupid things." He gestured angrily at the crutches.

"You're not weak," you countered. "You survived having a building dropped on you. That takes incredible strength, strength that I can only dream of having."

“And you won’t need those forever.”

Gongseob was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, slowly, he leaned further into your embrace, fresh tears spilling over.

"I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want to hold you back," he admitted in a small voice.

You tightened your arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You could never be a burden, my love. And you'll never hold me back, because we're a team, remember? We do this together, one step at a time."

A watery chuckle escaped him at your pun, and you smiled softly, relieved to see a hint of his usual humor shining through.

He searched your face for a long moment before crumbling against you as you held him close.

When his tears finally subsided, he pulled back, looking almost sheepish. "Sorry for the bitchin’," he said, managing a weak smile.

You shook your head, brushing away the lingering moisture on his cheeks. "Never apologize for being honest with your emotions, Gongseob. That's what I'm here for - to be your safe space."

He leaned into your touch with a contented sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Lucky for you, you'll never have to find out," you said with a grin.

Gongseob laughed, the sound warm and genuine. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. "Thank you," he murmured against your mouth.

You kissed him again, deeper this time. "You’re welcome," you say when you finally broke apart.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism x male reader #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #kwak jichang #seongji yuk #taesoo ma #jaegyeon na #gongseob ji #james lee

221 notes · View notes

chiwhorei · 1 year ago

Note

maybe dbf!miguel (..or any type of older miguel tbh idrc lol just want the biiiiig age gap) who just luvssssssss to us as an urinal.. ♡.♡

❝ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ! ❞

╰┈➤ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: short-form, drabble, NSFW, age-gap, daddy kink, almost pseudocest, piss, degradation

╰┈➤ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: went a little off script for this but I hope you still like it! piss daddy Miguel > anything ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Miguel is your Dad’s best and oldest friend. He been a part of your life since before you can remember, you respected and love him as if he is your own father. (Slow, evil smile)

He fucks you like a whore right under your dad’s nose. It’s a sick game to him, pulling you onto his dick every second your father is out of earshot.

Miguel has you calling him Daddy and taking his load every night you’re home from college. He’s got you sneaking out of the house like you’re a teenager again, trying not to get caught with one of your little boyfriends. Really, the man you’ve known as a second father is training your throat to take the unbearable bulge of his thick cock.

Your father’s best friend plays the part of a perfect gentleman during dinners or work parties with your parents, gives you a polite kiss on the cheek when he greets you, pulls the chair out next to him for you to sit. You look so nervous, you might as well have a sign around your neck that lets your poor parents know how Miguel’s cum is currently leaking out of your pussy. He fucked his cum deep into you on their bed, and your flushed, guilty demeanor makes him want to pull you from the dinner table to do it again.

Miguel is insatiable it seems, and seeing how house-broken and pliant he’s trained you to be— he wants to push you even more in search of some line he hasn’t yet crossed. There aren’t many left.

You’re sitting on tucked legs in front of Miguel, hands in your lap and mouth open. He’s huddled you into the bathroom while your parents house is full of friends celebrating your father’s birthday. You look like a crumpled doll under him, lipstick and mascara running down your face and tears in your eyes. He’s fucked your throat raw, holding the swell in your neck with one hand and pinching your nose closed with the other. Even so, you beg him.

“Please Daddy, please cum on me. I wanna be your good girl.”

Your hands come up to work back and forth on him, fingers barely touching around Miguel’s throbbing cock. You’re begging him to unload on that pretty little face, who’s he to deny you?

Thick ropes cover your messy cheeks and tongue, you don’t even flinch.

“Nasty little girl,” Miguel pats your parted lips, and confusion runs through your features. You open your mouth again for him anyway.

He doesn’t warn you, only smiles big and wild from above your abused little body. His stream of piss hits the plush of your bottom lip and dribbles down your chin, pooling in the fabric of your party dress.

“Don’t worry, princess, Daddy’ll get you nice and cleaned up. We can’t have anyone knowing what you let me do to you.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

#miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #secret.dollie #ask.dollie #tw.piss #tw.pseudoincest

410 notes · View notes

lale-txt · 2 months ago

Text

❥ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 & 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The way you laugh under your breath and I feel air upon my neck 'Cause something about everything just kills me Your arms fit in your jacket quite perfect for someone your size And I am touching you and it just kills me Your neck shows signs of little bites and I am guilty of my crimes And I am touching you and it just kills me

➸ Kuroo moves into the empty flat above your antique shop. In a place where time stands still, you find a love stored in the smallest things.

❉ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 ongoing!

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 & 𝐂𝐖 strangers to lovers, antique shop owner reader, canon divergence Kuroo (he suffers from a little burnout in this one), neighbors AU, mutual pining, fluff, just two old souls falling in love surrounded by even older objects, oh the yearning

❦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

▹ prologue: the boy next door ▹ ch. 01: the cutlery ▹ ch. 02: the forgotten bookmark ▹ ch. 03: the broken plate ▹ ch. 04: the love letters ▹ ch. 05: the wedding dress

✮ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒 the heirloom: moodboard

❖ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings)

❦ kuroocember's trilogy: love's nectar by @afyrian & homemade love by @nekozaki

#hq x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #hq fluff #hq imagines #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines

119 notes · View notes

chidorrrita · 3 months ago

Text

・❥・my lady is the sea

a different take on your relationship with l, you're not sure if he loves you or the comfort you bring

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: brief smut, heavy angst, reader is referred to a whore once

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1.2k

: ̗̀➛ a/n: It’s my girlfriend’s (late) birthday!! Please enjoy this angsty oneshot to celebrate!

He calls out your name. A sailor lost at sea, eyes frantically searching for a light, and you open your arms inviting him in. His body is frigid, his heart shut, but he settles into you. He can never forget the sea, the sound of the waves beating against his ship, the cold that burns his nose, the numbing loneliness. It will stay with him forever, cursed and carved into his bones. You don't mind. You'll carry him inside, wrap him up in you, sit by the fire and offer a warmth he can only imagine, but it will be the best dream he'll ever have. It will keep him alive, if only for a little while longer out there. Give him hope.

With teary eyes, you say his name back barely above a whisper in fear of scaring him. Holding him tight as if he'll slip through your grasp. You stay there standing in the doorway of your apartment clutching each other as lovers would. He pulls away first, guilt on his face and shame in his eyes, unable to meet your worried gaze, and steps through. A ghostly figure passing through the gates to peace. You stay in place, simply following his figure traverse through your house, floating from one spot to the next in unrest. Body unable to stand still, too accustomed to the swell and curl of the water, the aggressive pulling that keeps him moving in self preservation.

He does not need to fear it here, and yet his mind is racing. Keep the sails pointed, the ropes drawn tight, the mast steady as another storm rages and lighting blinds him. You must assure him no storm will chase him here, guide him to rest, take his trembling hand in your sure one, and lead him to bed.

Lull him to sleep with the gentle rock of your hips and your sweet words. The comforting warmth in between your thighs grounding him, bringing him back to you. Hands possessively squeezing your waist as you envelop his cock. No grand show is put on, no loud pornagraphic moans or creaky bed hitting the wall, just easy intimacy the both of you can fall into. Slow staggered, but deep thrusts up into your hole and his chest tightens, abs spasming. You lean down, chest rubbing against each other, he’s infatuated with the way you look above him, the sight alone nearly enough, and then you tell him to breathe. His mind blanks for the first time.

Force him to only think of you, you who stands tall at the bow breaking through currents and gifting him luck, you who slinks beneath the dark water and gorgeous silky voice that beckons him to join, you who awaits on shore clutching a silver locket made from the North of Spain.

You plague his mind just as much as the fear does becoming this twisted sense of love and protection. He mustn't stay long lest the wind come here and rip you away from his grasp.

In his last moments, he traces the curve of your spine, the fullness of your thighs, your cupid’s bow. A soft smile graces your lips, a pleasant dream, and little lines adorn the sides of your mouth. You would hate for him to notice, a sign of aging you’d try desperately to undo, but he adores them, thinks of them as a sign of a good life untouched by worry, a life with time to laugh. A deep furrow in his brow is the only wrinkle he has. His thumb rubs at the same spot on your face, hoping to remove any weight carried there. You need not have the same story of sorrow etched on your temple. Far too precious to ever be spoiled.

Quietly and with all the months of experience, he strays from your warm arms, folds the comforter back, gathers his clothes, and leaves as quickly as he appeared leaving no trace of his ever being there save for the memory you hold deep in your heart.

You awake clutching the comforter to your chest crying out “Ryu,” but he will never show for that is not his name. A fake he gave when you pressed too much. Ryuzaki. A fake that lies in your bed. You are not as much of an idiot as he thinks, you know it is fake, but it felt better to call him than nothing at all and maybe think he is real and not some ghost of the past haunting you. The true horror of a haunting is not when they are in the house, it is what they do to you after they leave. An uneasiness of when they will return. The dreadful realization you will be stuck in this loop of grief and acceptance of their leaving. That you will never know the reason for the visit, their departure, why they chose you to haunt. Was it because you were the first one who opened their door at the sounds of their wails, who saw endless pain in their eyes and could not bear to see anymore?

In between his visits, he’ll send an envelope, unmarked and unassuming, full of cash. Some sort of way of apologizing for he must know too that this relationship is wrong, but all his pride allows him to do is send you a gift. Not one that required much thought or pondering of whether you’d like it, but simply money. Had you not known him, you would’ve taken it as an insult. Money thrown at a cheap whore he visits when in town. You know he does not think of you as such, but you cannot help but feel as one when you lie naked in bed staring at him zip up his pants without so much as a goodbye.

If only you could rip away his pride. Bring him down with you and face himself. Staredown this spector he’s created in your mind and run him out, assure you he will not come back. Give you the comfort you give him when he returns from his travels, but he is far too greedy. He takes everything from you, leaves you with a sliver, and comes back demanding more.

He is not a sailor for the queen, for justice, he is just as dirty as those criminals he hunts. Squirrels away when bright spot lights try to find him and steal away the hearts of those who care about him. He’s tucked you into his rotten life. Blinded you to make you think he cares, that he leaves for your sake, but how much does he. A mastermind at heart, he knows how to play you. Which strings to pull to have you cradled in his arms. The depth of his affection for you will be unknown, but his obsession with your character is ever present.

The only sure thing is his love for the sea, the need to explore it, and make his name known for the sake of justice and righteousness. For the sea, he holds true adoration and will always return, and leave you, the forgotten spouse on land. Tied forever to him.

#l lawliet x reader #l x reader #dn lawliet #lawliet x reader #death note #death note lawliet #death note x reader #death note l lawliet #l lawliet smut #rita writes #mdni divider by @/adornedwithlight #heart divider by @/anitalenia

113 notes · View notes

julieee404 · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober day five!!

Wait... Mattheo?

❥ Monster sex(Teratophillia), Cockbuldge, Size difference, Tentacles ❥ Mattheo riddle

POV: Mattheo and you were walking through the forbidden forest when one of his father's death eaters tried to cast a spell at you. Mattheo jumped in front of you and took the brunt of the spell himself.

Trigger warnings: Werewolf/tentacle monster, knotting, swear words,

"No so she told Draco that he took her virginity but he didn't do that. Jack a seventh-year Ravenclaw did" Mattheo and I were walking through the forest in the evening enjoying each other's company. I was telling him about some gossip I picked up on today.

I heard a rustling behind me so I turned around and gasped gripping Mattheo's arm tighter. "Matt" I said fearfully looking at the death eater now standing before me.

Mattheo turned around looking at the death eater and his face turned from a soft grin to a hard glare.

The death eater just raised his wand at me and muttered a curse neither of us understood. A bright purple light came straight at me. Before I understood what was going on Mattheo had already covered my body with his taking the full force of the spell.

He let out a loud grunt of pain, which broke my heart a little. When the purple light finally diminished I was l lying on the ground with a sort of beast over me. The beast turned around and attacked the death eater, tearing out his throat.

The beast was a sort of werewolf, covered in fur, and large wolf-like ears sat ontop of his head. From his back, there were 4 large black tentacles coming out of his body. He turned back towards me away from the now dead death eater.

I scrambled back and let out a scared yelp, seeing blood on his chin. The beast let out a sad yelp but didn't come closer to me. I looked into his eyes and froze, recognising the deep dark brown eyes that belonged to my boyfriend.

"Wait... Matty?" I said full of surprise. He let out a soft mewl and I stood up walking up to him. And cupping his now snout. "Matty is that you?" The beast pressed his snout against my hand.

"How do I turn you back honey?" I said more to myself than to him. Snape taught us about bestiality returns just last week. Suddenly I remembered. "You have to fuck me" I whispered.

Mattheo reeled back looking down at his cock. It was way bigger than his actual dick and had a large knot at the underside. He shook his head no, obviously not wanting to hurt me.

I walked up to him "Love please, it's the only way I know to turn you back. You have to fill me up." He whimpered but his eyes flashed with desire and his cock jumped up.

"I trust you," I said softly and undressed. I put my clothes on the ground to lay upon them and not the forest ground. Mattheo moved above me and started to prep me. His fingers pushed inside of me, careful not to hurt me.

The tentacles on his twitched clearly wanting to do something as well "Darling you won't hurt me, use your tentacles, I trust you." Two of his tentacles wrapped around my thighs pulling them apart and spreading my legs.

His third tentacle rubbed my clit, the suckers on his tentacle sucked my clit in the most delicious way. His fourth and final tentacle replaced his fingers inside of me.

The sensations made me throw my head back moaning loudly. My moans only encouraged Mattheo taking it as a sign of my obvious enjoyment. The tentacle squirmed inside of me hitting all of my pleasure spots and splitting me open.

I felt my orgasm approaching and I kept gazing into Mattheo's eyes, showing him I wasn't scared of him. Not ever and definitely not now. A soft growl left his mouth and he sped up his movements, making me orgasm quickly.

He kept fucking me through my high before pulling out. He moved over me laying his cock on the top of my stomach. I let out a moan at his pure size, fully convinced that it wouldn't fit. It reached above my navel almost to my boobs. He was thicker than my arm.

He started to slowly move inside me making me writhe in pleasure. he filled me until his knot, not able to fit that inside of me yet. He slowly started to fuck me, not wanting to hurt me.

It was pleasurable but it didn't scratch the itch "Mattheo please let go, please" I begged him. His eyes grew wide and he let go of the control, pounding into me harshly, setting up an animalistic pace.

I was being used, like a cocksleeve for his huge dick. And I loved every second of it, a second orgasm quickly approaching. I wrapped my arms around his huge shoulders and held on tightly as I fell apart on his member clenching around him tightly only prolonging my high.

He let out a growl and started pounding into me even faster, making me scream in pleasure.

I almost came immediately again, Mattheo pushed his knot inside of me making my head fall back at the insane pleasure I was getting from the stretch.

Mattheo started to spill inside of me, his knot not allowing his cum to slip out of me, so my belly bulged a bit and I writhed in pleasure coming a third time.

After both of us came Mattheo stayed inside of me, not pulling out yet, letting his knot deflate. I kept staring into his eyes. As soon as his knot deflated completely a bright purple light surrounded him again and he turned back to Mattheo.

I smiled brightly and he cupped my face "Love are you alright?" He asked looking over my entire body to see if he had hurt me. "I'm alright love are you?" I asked sitting up and getting dressed again. He nodded and kissed me deeply, thanking me between kisses.

"Come on let's go back to your dorm and shower." He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to my nose "I love you, darling"

Kinktober masterlist 2024

#kinktober #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherinboys #smut #monster fucker #monster smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo smut

64 notes · View notes

velchronica · 1 year ago

Text

pov. ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ itoshi rin

i wanna love me the way that you love me

for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

i’d love to see me from your point of view

or, itoshi rin loves you, infinitely, even when you’re struggling to find reasons why he should

content: insecurity (physical & emotional), hurt/comfort, pro footballer!rin, gn!reader, non-celeb!reader, established relationship, sfw

wc: 1.4k

rin always holds you close and let you cry into the crook of his neck when you need him the most, rubbing soothing circles onto your back, comforting and warm. he doesn’t complain about the tear stains on his shirt—instead, he stays there with you in his arms for hours on end. it’s as if there isn’t anything in the world that could move him until you’ve had enough of him.

rin is always understanding. he’s had his own depressive episodes—(often sae-related) symptoms of his unresolved abandonment issues, the fear of not being good enough. yet in those difficult moments, the one who’d worked through all of it with him had been you. so it’s only natural rin plays his part to repay you, to show gratitude for the fact you’re in his life.

life can be cruel, and the world can be cold. people can be both, even if they don’t mean to be. but rin is neither when it comes to you.

some days are better than others, and others may be worse than most. but no matter what’s led to your subsequent breakdown, rin doesn’t question it, he simply lets you cry it out. and if you’re willing to let go of him for a short moment, he’ll be back in no time after making some hot cocoa and getting your favourite sweet snacks, and he’ll carry you—clinging onto him like a baby koala—to your shared bedroom.

once you’re both comfortably sprawled across the bed with a variety of scrumptious delicacies on your bedside cabinet, you muster up the courage to speak up. rin is attentive: his eyes never leave you once while you rant, but his gaze never grows bored, nor does it show signs of it being childish indulgence or empty support. no, rin will sympathise, and never does less than his best to help you through it.

insecurity is not linear, nor is grief or worry. most of the time, there’s no trigger, nor is it a culmination of many miseries. it isn’t straightforward at all, not something that can be ‘fixed’. you’re not ‘broken’ for feeling that way. you’re human, that’s all there is to it.

to be honest, when you tell rin that you sometimes feel unworthy to be by his side, he doesn’t understand. “you’re the itoshi rin, and i’m, well, this,” you say, scoffing a little at the end.

he doesn’t get how you can undermine yourself like that, how you don’t see all the things—whether they’re as easy to spot as the sky above or a miniscule thing even you’re unaware of yourself—that make you so beautiful. to rin, you’re divine. heaven on earth is your feather-light touch, your smile when you look at him, your laughter whenever rin makes a sour face as if he’s just bitten into a lemon because someone’s annoyed him. heaven is every moment he spends with you.

somehow—god knows how—you don’t see that.

sometimes loving rin is all you know, but other times you know he’s so gorgeous that he catches the eye and captures the hearts of all who pass him by. in your eyes, you’re by no means special, but he is. rin’s beautiful in the way his brows furrow when he wakes up in the morning, thick, dark lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as they begrudgingly blink up. the world knows rin’s beautiful, too, because you see it under every post he makes on social media. you know the world loves rin (maybe just not as much as you do) when they scream his name as he walks onto the pitch. he’s like an idol, the way they treat him, with the name banners and the feral fans.

you don’t blame them. who can resist itoshi rin?

you don’t understand how rin can love you, when your ‘imperfections’ are all you can see when you look in the mirror. when you compare your body to that of the celebs that rin’s fans ship him with, or nonsense gossip magazines photoshop him with, because you can imagine rin with someone else—someone more beautiful, more talented. surely there’s a million other alternatives. surely someone as beautiful and special as rin deserves someone equally beautiful and special, someone who can match him, someone deserving.

“sometimes i think you deserve better than me. you’re too good for someone like me.”

when the truth you’d buried comes tumbling out your mouth one night, rin simply cannot comprehend how you could possibly think that. if anything, you’re the one who deserves better than him, right? you simply just settled for him, when you could’ve done much better.

“how could i ever want anyone who isn’t you?” rin says, gritting his teeth. “how can you say you’re undeserving?”

and he pulls you into the most devastating kiss, his hands roaming your beautiful body, every edge and every curve, warm and strong. your hands claw at his shoulders, grasping, and you’re breathless as rin’s lips leave yours momentarily, before they’re slamming back into yours once more.

“you’re beautiful,” rin confesses against your lips, before drawing back. something warm falls on your cheek. when your eyes refocus, rin’s crying. “i love everything about you. all that you are. i can’t explain it. i don’t need to pinpoint your best feature when everything about you is the best. you don’t need to be perfect. i don’t believe in that shit anymore. i just want you to be yourself. i want you to be proud of who you are, and i want you to be happy when you’re with me.”

you reach up to wipe rin’s tears away, feeling your own eyes sting with the telltale warning of your tears’ return. however, rin simply takes your hand in his own, and holds it against his cheek.

“i could spend the rest of my life telling you all the things i love about you, because i’d have to talk about everything about you,” rin says, and your breath hitches in your throat. your boyfriend is a man of few words, he’s always been a patient listener when it comes to you. confessing that he’s willing to talk about everything he loves about you for the rest of his life isn’t a small feat.

the day you broke down rin’s walls and entered his monochrome world, he began to believe in love again. and now he’s learned to simply love again, he’s not going to stop loving you.

and now you’re tearing up again. “i wish i could love myself as much as you love me,” you whisper. “there’s so much i hate about myself.” the words don’t roll off your tongue easily—they’re hesitant, reluctant, like a secret.

“then let me love you,” rin says. “i’ll love all the things you love about yourself and the things you hate about yourself. i’ll love you so much that you’ll learn to love the things you hate about yourself. i’ll remind you of how much i love everything you are, every day, whenever you need me, always.” his turquoise eyes are ablaze, and they look like blue-green flames, scorching with passion and love. “if you don’t want to face your fears alone, i’ll be with you. if you want time to yourself, i’ll wait for you. i’ll keep loving you, even when you’ve forgotten how to love yourself.”

when he pulls you close again, you rest your head against his torso, and you can hear the racing rhythm of his beating heart. in his arms, you feel warm, complete.

“i love you, rin. thank you. i think i really needed that today.”

rin exhales shakily, and you feel the vibration of his chest. “i love you. so damn much.” his hold of you tightens slightly, gentle but protective. “i love you because of who you are. if you decide to change for yourself, i’ll still love you. if you can’t love yourself, i love you for all the self-love you’re missing. and i’ll never stop loving you. don’t you dare forget that.”

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #blue lock #bluelock #bllk #bllk x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #bllk imagines #bllk fic #♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vivi #♫ songfic

196 notes · View notes

shizuturnspages · 26 days ago

Note

I love your yan Diluc, it's genuinely one of THE best ones I've seen!!

Please consider: Diluc w/ reader being Knight of Favoinus

Yandere Diluc with a Knight of Favonius Darling

Diluc doesn’t hate the Knights of Favonius—not entirely. But the idea of the one person he cherishes most being a part of the organization he’s grown so disillusioned with? That’s a bitter pill for him to swallow.

Conflicted Emotions:

❥ Diluc sees your role in the Knights as both a strength and a vulnerability. He admires your bravery and dedication, but he loathes the idea of you putting yourself in harm’s way for an institution he believes is fundamentally flawed.

❥ “You work yourself to exhaustion for people who wouldn’t lift a finger for you,” he says one evening, his tone sharp. “The Knights don’t deserve you.”

Possessive Concern:

❥ Your status as a Knight makes Diluc hyperaware of the risks you face daily. Missions, patrols, skirmishes—they all represent potential threats to your safety, and that drives him mad.

❥ He often tries to convince you to take easier assignments or outright avoid dangerous missions. If that doesn’t work, he’s not above subtly interfering—delaying your orders, pulling strings to reassign you, or even secretly completing your mission for you.

❥ “You can’t expect me to stand by and watch you risk your life,” he insists when you confront him. “I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

Tension with the Knights:

❥ Diluc’s disdain for the Knights creates friction in your relationship, especially when it comes to Kaeya. He doesn’t trust his brother’s motives or influence over you, and he’s not shy about expressing that.

❥ If Kaeya so much as teases you in Diluc’s presence, the tension is palpable. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your distance,” Diluc says coldly, his eyes narrowing at his brother.

The Darknight’s Shadow:

❥ As the Darknight Hero, Diluc often follows you on patrols without your knowledge. He sees it as his duty to ensure your safety, even if it means operating in your shadow.

❥ You might notice fewer threats during your patrols, unaware that Diluc has already taken care of them. To him, it’s proof that he’s the only one truly capable of protecting you.

Scenario: A Dangerous Mission

The bustling streets of Mondstadt were a far cry from the quiet tension brewing in the Dawn Winery. You stood near the doorway, adjusting the straps of your armour, while Diluc leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“You’re not going,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You sighed, not for the first time. “Diluc, it’s my job. There’s a report of hilichurls near Springvale, and I’ve been assigned to handle it. It’s routine.”

“It’s unnecessary.” His crimson eyes met yours, burning with intensity. “They’re sending you on missions that anyone else could handle. Why does it always have to be you?”

“Because I’m good at what I do,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “And because this is what I signed up for.”

Diluc straightened, pushing off the wall to close the distance between you. “You’re risking your life for people who wouldn’t care if something happened to you.” His voice wavered, and for a moment, his mask of stoicism cracked. “Do you think they’d mourn you the way I would?”

You faltered, taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. But you couldn’t let him control you—not like this.

“That’s not fair,” you said, your tone softer now. “I know you care, Diluc. But this is my choice, my responsibility. I can’t just abandon it because you don’t like the Knights.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue further. But instead, he turned away, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Fine,” he said, his voice icy. “But don’t expect me to sit by and do nothing.”

Later that night, as you patrolled near Springvale, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the forest. Every so often, you thought you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned, there was nothing there.

Unbeknownst to you, Diluc trailed in the distance, his claymore resting against his shoulder as he eliminated threats before they could reach you. He moved silently, his dark cloak blending with the night.

When you returned to Mondstadt unharmed, you’d chalk it up to an uneventful patrol. But for Diluc, it was proof that his vigilance was necessary.

As you fell asleep that night, exhausted from your duties, Diluc stood watch outside your window, his gaze unwavering.

“You’ll see it one day,” he murmured to himself. “That I’m the only one who truly cares. The only one who’ll protect you.”

#fyppage #fypシ #fyp #writers on tumblr #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #yandere #genshin yandere #yandere genshin impact #diluc headcanons #genshin impact diluc #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #yandere diluc

206 notes · View notes

navxry · 9 months ago

Text

DIVERGENT AU : DELIVERY FOR: MS. KIRARA

-> Being the newest doorman, Kirara has a lot to keep track of, but she was still new to the job. Though, that seem to change when they found a new... 'Friend' in these trying times. (That's Not My Neighbor AU) (RULER OF LOVE TAGLIST: @xianyoon ; send an ask to be tagged) [ content warning/s: this fic contains character death and scoptophobia. If you are uncomfortable with these warnings, you are free to click away and find something else to read. Your mental health matters. ] [ <- divergent au | main page | divergent au -> ]

If you had told Kirara that she would be working as a doorman when the world has been overrun with doppleganger in the past... She would most definitely call bullshit.

Though, in a world that is overrun with them and the following eldritch abominations, she can't exactly be picky. And especially when the past job she had with delivering things went horribly with the dopplegangers running rampant.

So here she was, on her first day of the job, and she was done listening to the voice mail left behind by the D.D.D. on how to deal with them. She's not good when it comes to death and bloodshed in general, so she was sure that the job would keep her from seeing any.

And, well, she was proven wrong. So, very wrong.

Seeing each neighbor and doppleganger that came her way, the girl realized why no one bothered to take the job. It was almost a wonder with how she seem to be dealing with each turn, trying to keep herself safe as they tried to convince her of various things.

Some came with imperfect disguises and falsities, while others came in prepared with horrid tempers to boot. However confident she may be in her work, she couldn't lie and say that seeing them get 'cleaned' by the personnel... Is scary.

It reminded her of how bad it would be if she screwed up. And by Gods, she's scared of that outcome.

After having the recent doppleganger swept by the personnel, Kirara sighed and rubbed her temples. She could already hear the door from outside turn and rise, and the sound of heels clicking echoed.

When she looked back up, the doorperson blinked, seemingly caught by surprise at the disheveled appearance of what seem to be a delivery girl that entered. Messy hair tied back, tired yellow eyes that spoke of drama she could only fathom, and their appearance seem more like they were dealing with a heavy workload.

"Mm..." they hummed, their gaze soon directing itself to Kirara. Raising an eyebrow, they simply wiped their eyes, murmuring, "You seem... New. Where's Rosaria?"

Rosaria? Do they mean— oh.

"She's on vacation," the girl replied, causing the latter to nod. With a frown, they adjusted how they looked, though they seem to be holding a few packages.

"... I see. Didn't knew she'd be on one, but... At least she's getting a break from being here for 3 years."

After a while, they placed down their packages to grab the documents. It did took a while, but that didn't mean Kirara wasn't paying attention to how they looked when they aren't facing her.

Huh... I guess they look okay. Hm...

"... Here we are. Here's my ID and permit," they said, handing the items to her. "You're free to... Ask me anything, by the way."

Ah, how convenient!

"Hm... Okay. Let me check your documents and see if they check out first."

".. Alright," they murmured, holding back a yawn as they watched Kirara get to work.

With how much she's faced, she could tell that something is up with this... Delivery girl. She couldn't exactly tell what was it, as when she checked the files and information she can gather, they all checked out.

Name: Navina Last Name: Marise Apartment: F02-04 Reason: I'm a resident of the building. I come from my job as a deliveryperson.

The entry permit had the logo clear as day, and just like the previous ones she's seen, it was placed in the exact spot as she's always known. Sure, she can question them for more information, but she'll do it after.

Checking the ID, she began to glance up at the deliveryperson in front of her, as though to verify the appearance they had.

Navina Marise 1775000329

The date and their ID picture matches, and they have the logo, too.

Kirara let out a sigh, putting down the items before she checked the files. She could feel herself at ease, as they were on the list and were... Normal.

Still, it didn't mean that they were off the hook yet. She couldn't tell if they were to be trusted, and after the last doppleganger that came who seem to be near perfect, she was scared of being faced with the perfect one.

She didn't want to die. She can't. Not on her first day—

"You seem... Rather tense."

Kirara flinched.

".. Sorry, did I scare you?" the deliveryperson asked, their brows furrowed in concern. "I didn't know when to bring it up to you, since you seem... Busy, especially with checking for dopplegangers."

She could feel the tension permeate between them, but she swallowed and nodded, her frown present.

Sensing the tension, the latter shifted, their eyes darting away.

"... Sorry. Its not my intention to bother you or anything, since I understand you can't exactly feel safe with dopplegangers about. They could just be anywhere, and it'd be... Difficult to tell if they got the right disguise."

...

Shifting her gaze, she looked up towards them. She noticed though, that amidst the tension, they seem... Conflicted.

"... You seem to know how they work," she began. "Have you worked here? For the... D.D.D., I mean."

"Once," they answered, scratching their arm. "'s... not for me, though. I don't exactly deal with staring well," they explained, chuckling. "Ironic, isn't it? I had to take the next best thing and... Had to face them head on, doing deliveries and the like."

Kirara's eyes softened.

Ah. I get that feeling.

"Does it get difficult?" she asked.

"Sometimes," they replied, their lips curving to a frown. "We're.. Trained to deal with things like this. Though, the superiors didn't bother with me—said that I can tell which is which just fine from my old job here."

They scowled at this, glaring at the package resting by their side.

"... It gets difficult, though. But they won't listen. None of them do."

A beat of silence. And another.

"... Sorry," they whispered, sighing and turning their head down. "I... Don't like to complain. The world's messed up as is, and me complaining to a stranger won't do a damn thing. Not until the D.D.D. finds a way to get rid of these fuckers."

A bit callous, but it wasn't like they're doing this for the wrong reason. Kirara had too much hope that they were normal, and it seems that they are... For now.

"Hah, well, I haven't heard much from the D.D.D. myself," she told them, putting the files away. "I just got recently to this job, and since the usual doorwoman's off for a vacation, I subbed in for her."

Navina nodded in understanding, this time finding themselves able to look at her.

"Rosaria's... A good one," they began, a smile resting on their face. "She's cold and aloof, but... the D.D.D. would make a mistake in getting rid of her. She's the sharpest one, y'know."

"Are you two friends?"

Navina chuckled.

"I guess. Rosaria's the regular I used to see when I was in your place," they informed her, this time smiling—perhaps due to nostalgia, Kirara thinks. "She's got a lot to tell when she... Ah, worked as a bartender, if I remember correctly. Always complained about the others that bothered her in her shifts, and the people she's met."

Though, the smile didn't last long as they sighed, their eyes downcast.

"Though, when she worked here... She and I aren't as close. I'd sometimes speak to her about the things I found interesting, and she'd listen, but when Ms. Pegg died, she... Withdrew from everyone."

...

"... Do you still try to talk to her about it?"

"No," they whispered, closing their eyes. "I... Don't even bother. It's a heavy subject, miss, so we all made a consensus to not speak a word."

Kirara frowned. She could tell that this one was a difficult topic to cover, and since they're strangers, she can't exactly ask the things she wanted. Still, it didn't stop her from trying to befriend at least someone in this place.

"Well... If it helps, maybe she'll find comfort if you deliver something nice to her," she suggested. "Maybe something that'll... Honor ms. Pegg? For her sake?"

Navina's head turned to Kirara for a moment, their eyes remaining dead. However, she can tell there was a bit of a spark in them at the thought—an idea forming from the once burnt bridge of their relationship.

Though they seem to break from their gaze with the doorwoman, Kirara seem relieved when she saw them smile.

"... Maybe. I'll try and... Do that. When Rosaria comes back."

"Hehe, that's the spirit," she tells them. "You better tell me how it goes, okay?"

The deliveryperson nodded with a smile, but they realized something and looked over at their documents.

"Oh, right... Um, I suppose you're done checking, right?"

Oh, shoot!

"Y-Yeah!" the girl nodded, though before she can push the button, they held a hand up. They bent down to grab a package and pushed it through the shoot, their smile seemingly less confident and more nervous.

"... Here, a package from me. Please consider it a thanks for your hardwork, miss," they said, watching Kirara take it with both hands. Inspecting the package, she couldn't help but smile happily at the thought.

Sure, the world was bleak, but... This one may have given her the hope she needs. The light that shows that not everything is as bad as she thinks.

"Thank you so much," she tells them, opening the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

This caught them by surprise.

...

Then, the doorwoman saw them smile.

It reached their eyes this time.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just as they stepped through, the door closed behind them, and finally... Kirara can clock out.

She needs to rest when she gets home. She's got a busy day tomorrow, after all.

@/navxry | do not repost my works | 2024 | entry for may ebg 2024 by @/xianyoon

#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ruler of love!#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ love sign from above!#genshinblr may ebg 2024 #genshin impact kirara #genshin kirara #gi kirara #genshin impact #genshin #gi #genshin impact writing #genshin writing #gi writing

9 notes · View notes

kinkandkreep · 1 year ago

Text

❥︎ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧

❥︎ 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧!𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❥︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕

❥︎ "__" 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆

❥︎ '𝑲𝒈𝒐𝒔𝒊' 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 "𝒄𝒐-𝒛𝒚" 𝒐𝒓 "𝒈𝒐-𝒛𝒊"

❥︎ ᵃ/ⁿ: ʰᵉʸ ʰᵉʸ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ! ʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵈᵃᵈᵈʸ!ᵐⁱᵏᵉʸ ˣ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᶠⁱᶜ! ᵇᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵘᵖ, ᶜᵘˢ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰʸ ᵒⁿᵉ. ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ! 👋🏾

“Kgosi! Be careful love!”

The little tot’s shrieking laughter can be heard in response, his tiny feet carrying him towards you.

A large smile plastered across your face, you crouch, arms open expectantly. Kgosi tosses himself into your embrace, giggling happily and gesturing to be lifted.

Standing, you bring your baby boy with you, holding him gently but firmly and twirling a couple times in place. Again, that familiar laugh that never fails to warm your heart can be heard in Kgosi’s excitement.

“Yay! Again!” Your baby claps, the movement clunky and uncoordinated what with his chubby hands.

“Noo, not again baby. Mama’s a little dizzy.” Kgosi frowns but his disappointment is quickly forgotten when he recognizes where you’re carrying him.

The baby’s face lights up, black eyes twinkling with newfound mirth.

“Swing mama, wanna swing!”

You place Kgosi safely in the bucket swing, lightly flicking the fat of one of his cheeks and chuckling as he shies away with a bright smile and yet another tiny giggle.

“Hold on tight ok?” Kgosi nods determinedly, little hands gripping the rubber coated chains on either side of him.

“Ready mama!” Nodding, you take your place behind your son, pulling the swing up and back until the seat rests just above your head. You’re preparing to let go when a voice from behind startles you.

“Miss __ __?”

In your surprise you release the seat, your son’s shrieks of joy sounding as he swings back and forth.

Turning, you face the man whom the voice belongs to, and you're shocked and a little disturbed to see he's a large scar running almost the circumference of his head, pale against his skin and visible though he stands a distance away from you.

He’s dressed in all black, and you can see his eyes moving as he watches your son.

Stepping into the man’s field of vision, you lay your arms defensively across your chest, expression flat and unamused.

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

The black clad man’s eyes snap up to your face, and for a moment, you two engage in a tense stare down.

Eventually, he relents, sensing that you weren’t going to.

“I am here on behalf of Manjiro Sano. He wishes to hold an audience with you.”

A sudden, sharp bolt of lightning zips down your spine upon hearing that name.

It had been quite literally years, and you’d not heard hide nor hair of the once invincible man.

You’d managed to convince yourself that that was a good thing.

“Why?” That one single word is so loaded with other lingering questions and feelings and anger that the man shifts uncomfortably.

“I was only told to deliver the message, nothing more.”

You can tell the man knows more than he lets on, but refrains from saying anything else. Perhaps out of a sense of respect for Manjiro. Perhaps out of a subconscious desire to spare you the details.

Whatever the reason, you find yourself a little peeved that he won’t spill, but nevertheless, you acquiesce.

“Fine. But I’m taking my son somewhere safe first.”

“Actually,” the scarred man moves to take a step forward, quickly aborting the movement when you equally as quickly step back, feeling behind yourself for Kgosi.

“Stay there. I don’t want you any closer to my son.”

The man nods, returning to his previous position.

“Actually,” he begins again, one hand slightly outstretched as a sign of submission. “The King requested that you bring your son along. He wishes to see him as well.”

Upon hearing Mikey be addressed as “The King,” you lift a disbelieving brow.

“Really? He’s having you refer to him as “The King?” You know, I become more glad everyday that he left me alone.”

You’re more so speaking to yourself, and the man clears his throat to draw back your attention.

“When you’re ready, I will escort you both to the designated meeting place.”

With that, the man turns and begins walking off, your eyes watching him closely as he does.

Turning, you finally address Kgosi, who has long since stopped swinging and has, rather uncharacteristically, been quietly watching the entire exchange.

“Who dat mama?”

Unsure of how exactly to answer the question, you respond with the first thing that comes to mind.

“He’s one of daddy’s friends baby.”

At the mention of his father, little Kgosi begins to bounce excitedly where he’s still seated.

“Daddy yay!”

Despite your gripe with the man, you can’t help the sad smile that curls your lip at your son’s enthusiasm.

‘If only you knew, son…’

It takes a bit to get Kgosi situated and gather up your belongings, but once you do, you find the scarred man leaned against a nearby tree, arms folded across his chest, awaiting your approach.

"Ready?” He queries, standing to his full height.

You give one solemn nod, following when the man beckons.

The ride is a quiet one: neither you nor the man asks questions. The only sound is that of your son’s absentminded babbles as he plays with his car toys and the occasional “look mama!” when you pass something he finds particularly interesting outside.

You try to keep as engaged as possible, but your mind is running a thousand miles a minute.

‘What on Earth could Manjiro want with us now?’

After about 30 minutes and seemingly endless pondering, you arrive at a little house on the outskirts of the city. It’s not a place you immediately recognize, and this causes you some alarm.

“Why did he want us brought here?” The question comes out more severe than you intended for it to. The man side eyes you, hesitating before speaking.

“The King thought that perhaps you’d be more comfortable and apt to talk somewhere that was a little more quaint and a little less busy than his usual residence.”

“Less busy than his usual residence, you say? I can only imagine the shit he gets into.”

“Lang’ge mama!” Your son gasps, causing you to chuckle.

“Sorry baby, you’re right. Mama should watch her language.”

The man watches silently, trying to suppress a small smile at your interaction with your son.

“Right this way.”

Once you’ve all exited the car- presumably something expensive now that you’ve paid it any real attention- you begin making your way up the porch steps to the front door.

Kgosi insisted on walking himself, so your right hand is occupied by his left. The scarred man offered to carry your bag, and you let him, figuring he had no want or need for diapers and coloring books.

The trek up to the door seems endless, and you attribute that mostly to nerves. It’s been so long since you’ve heard so much as a whisper about Manjiro and his current whereabouts and endeavors, let alone actually seen him.

Ken and the others looked for him for a time after he disappeared, but after some less than savory occurrences, of which you never got the full details, they left that pursuit alone.

“It’s-...it’s difficult, I know, but it’s better this way, __. Mikey clearly doesn’t want to be found.” Ken’s words were heavy and laced with a barely concealed sorrow.

You’d agreed at the time, even though the elusive man lingered in your thoughts on occasion.

Now you were faced with the prospect of meeting him in person again after so long and after so much had transpired.

And not just you, but your son as well.

Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, you take more confident steps into the foyer, lightly squeezing Kgosi’s hand to calm him from where he bounces excitedly on his feet. You’re in the process of removing your and Kgosi’s shoes when the man speaks.

“One moment. Please, feel free to peruse this area while I step away.”

Before you’re given the opportunity to respond, the man jets off, leaving you and Kgosi to wander around for a bit.

The house is indeed rather quaint; homey and sensible, while still containing modern fixtures and appliances.

You peek into the kitchen, finding it to be fully stocked and in pristine condition.

Not thinking too much about it, and at Kgosi’s insistence, you take a box of apple juice from the refrigerator and offer it to your son, making sure to throw away the plastic wrapping the straw came out of.

Moving along, you encounter what seems to be the first of two living areas.

It’s decorated in warm, neutral colors. The couch, upon sitting, is found to be very soft (Kgosi has a blast bouncing on it) and a large flat screen TV rests atop a stone fireplace.

Behind the couch is open space covered in a large, ornate carpet. Beside it, floor length windows showcase a lush, well manicured garden space, which your son seems quite eager to explore.

“Maybe a little later, son. I don’t want your clothes getting soiled or to track dirt.”

Kgosi pouts, but quickly goes back to enjoying his juice and bouncing on the couch.

You, on the other hand, resume being caught up in your thoughts.

You’re so caught up in fact, that you don’t immediately notice when the scarred man returns.

“Miss __?”

You jump just a bit at his sudden appearance.

Standing, you lift and tuck Kgosi against your hip, nodding to the man and following when he motions for you to do so.

You can practically feel your heart about to beat out of your chest the closer you get to the room where Manjiro presumably is.

Each step feels heavier than the last, until finally, the floor slips from underneath you entirely as you round the corner.

There sits Manjiro, your first love, and the father of your pride and joy.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, __?”

You’re too stunned to speak, though you can feel yourself subconsciously tightening your grip on Kgosi.

Surrounding Manjiro are three men, each more bizarre looking than the last. From where you’re facing him, on Manjiro’s right stands a pair of guys, both with black and purple hair, though one’s is longer and the other’s is gelled to the side. They resemble one another, and you assume they are, at the least, related.

On Manjiro’s left is perhaps the strangest looking man thus far.

His hair is bright pink, and he’s got two large, diamond shaped scars on either corner of his mouth. He sports a wide grin, and you quickly look away from him, deciding you don’t like the way he, or any of them for that matter, makes you feel.

Mikey simply watches as you observe his men, his dull, black irises remaining fixated on you and Kgosi.

“What do you want, Manjiro?” You speak suddenly, and the air in the room immediately shifts from tense to even more so.

“What do you mean, __? I clearly wanted to see you,” his eyes slide to Kgosi. “And our son.”

“Ok, but why now?” You grit out the words, becoming more agitated by the second.

Mikey doesn’t respond, refraining from moving for a second before he gestures to the seat before you.

“Why don’t you take a seat, love? You seem irritated.”

“I’m fine right here.”

“__, I’m asking nicely-”

“I said I’m f-...”

“Sit down!”

The sudden outburst catches you off guard, as well as Kgosi, who covers his ears.

“Loud mama!”

Breaking eye contact with Manjiro, you turn to Kgosi, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry baby,” you throw a pointed sidelong glance at Manjiro with your next words. “We’ll be more quiet.”

You think you can see the beginnings of a smirk start to shape Manjiro’s mouth, but the movement is quickly aborted.

The silence having returned, you slowly take a seat, adjusting Kgosi’s position in your lap. Mikey watches you closely the entire time, his eyes never leaving you or Kgosi’s forms.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard was it? Besides, sitting is much more comfortable than standing when you're carrying weight isn’t it?”

You’re not sure why Manjiro is asking such asinine questions, but you can’t help the urge to roll your eyes.

“I ask again, Manjiro, why now of all times did you apparently want to see us so badly?”

The man doesn't immediately answer, and you can feel your brow twitch.

"Does there have to be a specific reason as to 'why now?' It's not like you were doing anything particularly important right? I just felt this overwhelming urge to see my two favorite people."

You level Manjiro with a scathing glare.

"Your two favorite people huh? You don't typically just abandon your two favorite people with no explanation, especially not when they're your son and his mother."

You could swear the temperature in the room drops at least a little bit, your frosty ire palpable to everyone.

Manjiro simply smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His jaw is clenched the most minute amount, and you can't help but feel some satisfaction that you struck a nerve.

“You’re completely right. This isn’t typically something you do. Unfortunately for us, our circumstances are anything but typical.”

You can’t suppress another eye roll, Kgosi shifting slightly on your lap. He’s been quietly eyeing the strange white-haired man for the entirety of the conversation thus far. He’s not quite sure, but he feels some sort of strange connection to him.

“It doesn’t matter what excuse you give, Manjiro. None of your wack ass machinations can justify your decision to abandon us.”

Manjiro is no longer smiling, instead his eyes are boring into yours. His jaw clenches even tighter.

“I only did what I did to protect you both.”

“From you, right? You and your little freakshow menagerie.” You let your eyes pointedly drift, to one by one land on the other occupants of the room. None of them seem too off-put by your choice of words; the pink haired one’s seemingly permanent grin even appears to widen.

“I mean come on, your little chauffeur here even insinuated it. The kind of crazy shi-,” your son gives you a glance, “stuff, you get up to in your normal residence. Look at you! You’re pale, bordering on sickly. The bags under your eyes are so deep and dark it looks like someone painted them on with black ink. I can see the beginnings of bruises on your arms and despite the air of authority you’re trying to maintain, I can tell you’re exhausted.”

You finally settle back in your chair from where you’d unconsciously leaned forward. Try as you might to suppress them, you can feel the tears beginning to build along your waterline.

“Why, Mikey? Why on Earth did you choose this life, this life of danger and misery, over us?”

It’s quiet for several long moments, and even the pink haired man is no longer grinning.

You and Mikey are locked in a severe staredown, but you can feel your resolve crumbling.

There’s nothing there.

Beneath his gaze, there lies only a dark emptiness, and you can’t help but feel that helping him now is beyond your power.

Just as you feel the first tear fall, you hear a tiny gasp, and quickly your son shimmies out of your grasp, running over to where Manjiro sits and smacking him on the arm.

“You make mama cry! Bad!”

The pink haired man makes moves to grab something from behind his back, but is quickly stilled by Mikey’s raised hand. You notice this exchange with no small degree of horror and disgust and anger, appalled at even the implication of what that man was trying to do.

Manjiro leans forward and down, meeting Kgosi’s determined stare with one of his own.

The two lock eyes for several seconds before Manjiro smiles, and this time, it does seem to reach his eyes.

“Good boy. I’m proud of you for protecting your mama.” Manjiro begins lifting a hand, and Kgosi immediately retreats back to you, only this time, he remains standing protectively in front of your legs.

“You a bad man! No touch!”

Manjiro lilts what sounds like a genuine laugh, and the tension in the room somewhat dissipates. You’re not 100% aware of it yet, but a pleased Mikey means less pain and less of a bad time for everyone involved.

“He’s brave! And smart too. You’ve done an excellent job raising him, __.” Black eyes, so similar to Kgosi’s own, flick down to his little form.

“Tell us your name, little guy.”

Kgosi hesitates, unsure if he should listen to the man who made his mama cry. He relaxes some when he feels your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s ok baby, you can tell them.”

It takes a moment or two, but eventually your son mumbles out “Kgosi,” before turning and gesturing to be lifted. You quickly oblige him, settling him in your lap, his head snuggled against your neck.

“Kgosi…a strong name. What does it mean?”

The words seem caught in your throat for some seconds, before you’re finally able to speak.

“It means King.”

Another laugh, this time louder and more raucous, escapes Manjiro, his head thrown back. The other men wear small smiles as well, all except the pink haired man, who goes back to sporting his large grin.

“It means King! How fitting. You truly are perfect. I knew you’d be an excellent mother.”

“And yet you left me. Left me to raise a child all on my own with no support, financial or emotional. Don’t think you get to laugh now and everything is just forgiven and forgotten. I’m still pissed at you, Manjiro. And I get the feeling I will be for a very long time to come.”

The tense atmosphere has returned, and Mikey has long since stopped laughing.

Instead of responding verbally, he stands, slowly making his way over to you. You can feel your baby shaking, and the thought that this man, who was supposed to serve as protector and provider, causes his own son to shake in fear makes you positively seethe.

Sensing your anger, Mikey stops just a few steps shy of you, and instead kneels down on one knee, never breaking eye contact with you.

“__. I know I’ll most likely never be able to make you understand why I left. I know that in your eyes, what I’ve done is…unforgivable. And I accept that burden as mine to bare. But all I ask, is that you put aside your rage, just for now, so that I may know my son.”

“You’re not entitled to him.” Your words shake around the edges.

“After what I’ve done, you’re absolutely right.” Manjiro lifts his bandaged right hand, placing it over his heart. “But I have no desire to possess you. Either of you. I only wish now to step up, and do what I should have done from the start.”

Manjiro extends his arms. “May I please hold our son?”

Time slows and seems to drag out endlessly.

Manjiro wasn’t there when Kgosi was born. He’s never gotten to hold him, though that was entirely his own fault.

You’d always dreamed of the day that he would, though. The day that Manjiro would sweep you both into his arms and cradle you protectively against his chest.

The day that he would return to you, fervent apologies and heartfelt whispers of love and adoration falling from his lips.

Snapping back to the present moment, you level Manjiro with a hard stare, before finally speaking.

“I suppose that’s fine. But, Kgosi gets the final say.”

Looking down, you address your son, who still watches Manjiro skeptically from the corner of his eye.

“Kgosi hun, do you mind letting daddy hold you?”

Everyone waits with bated breath to see what the little tot will say.

Eventually, after several lengthy seconds, Kgosi simply nods, and begins to wiggle out of your embrace. You let him go, watching with sad eyes as he carefully makes his way over to Manjiro, whose arms have remained outstretched for the entire exchange.

Slowly, Kgosi leans into Manjiro’s chest, and you could swear you see the muscle in the man’s exposed chest jump.

Manjiro immediately closes his arms tightly around Kgosi, gently resting his head on top of the boy’s. A shuddering, relieved sounding sigh can be heard from Manjiro, and he begins slightly rocking from side to side.

“My son, I’m so sorry.”

He lifts his head to address you, and you startle somewhat upon seeing the unshed tears lining Manjiro’s waterline.

“My love, I owe you an apology as well.”

You can’t speak, your throat constricting as you fight to hold back your own tears. Instead, you silently watch as Manjiro stands, lifting Kgosi with him. He takes measured steps towards you, finally stopping and kneeling down before you.

“My decision to do what I did, not even just towards you, but to everyone else I left behind as well, was incredibly selfish. But I truly thought it was for the best. I’m afraid I’ve fallen into the darkness, and I don’t foresee a way out. I would never wish to drag you along into this hell, and so I abandoned you, separated myself as far away from you as possible to protect you from the monster I’d become.”

The tears are falling steadily now, and you’ve the sudden great urge to snatch Kgosi and flee. Perhaps your eyes communicate some of this desire, because Manjiro leans forward, lowering his voice to almost a whisper.

“I’m not going to hurt you, __.”

A sob rips from your throat, and yet you’re able to remain relatively upright in your seat.

“You already have.”

Now it’s Manjiro’s turn to cry, silent streaks trickling down his cheeks, hidden from view of the other men in the room.

“I know, I know I have, and again, I am so sorry. I promise now though that I’ll be there for you, you and Kgosi both. You’ll never want for anything ever again- just say the word and you’ll have it, whatever it is you need.”

At this point, Kgosi is becoming a little restless. He whines quietly and wiggles in Manjiro’s grasp. The man looks to you for help.

“He’s sleepy. He hasn’t had his nap today.”

Nodding once, Manjiro hands him to you, Kgosi quickly adjusting himself and snuggling into your chest. You begin gently bouncing and rocking him, and soon the little tot is fast asleep in your arms.

Manjiro lovingly strokes a finger down Kgosi’s cheek as he sleeps, cooing very quietly as the boy subconsciously leans into the touch.

“He looks just like you.” He eventually says, eyes still fixated on the sleeping child.

“He’s got your eyes.” You speak in return, somewhat unsure of where that response came from.

Your heart still aches with the pain Manjiro’s caused, but that same pain, which once radiated sharp and persistent, has begun to fade to a dull echo. You don’t know that you’ve completely forgiven him yet, but as you watch him gaze upon your son with a glimmer of light in his eyes, you think you may be becoming more ok with the notion.

“I mean it, __.” Manjiro’s voice is stern, his expression determined when he turns to look up at you. “I may not always be there physically, but say the words, and I’ll come running.”

You search Manjiro’s face, eventually deciding that yes, he’s serious.

“Alright. But you had better uphold your promise. Else I won’t forgive you next time.”

Manjiro gives one slow, solemn nod of understanding. He stands, gesturing to the scar-headed man for something.

He brings it over quickly, and from where you’re sitting, it appears to be a paper sleeve with something in it.

Deciding against immediately launching into asking questions, you sit patiently while Manjiro unsheathes whatever’s in the sleeve out of your view, staring at it momentarily before turning and handing it to you.

Your eyes shift back and forth between the two, and you wait for an explanation.

“My other hand’s kind of occupied at the moment so I can’t take whatever this is out of the sleeve.”

Another gesture and the job’s done for you, and you do your best not to jostle Kgosi too much when you gasp.

“I-is that-...”

“Yes. It may seem a bit excessive, but this is the best of the best. And I want you to have nothing less.”

“People are bound to ask questions when I use this.”

“Then you’ll just have to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business, hm?” Manjiro smiles at you, and again, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Or,” he leans down, lips inches away from yours. “You could always tell them about how much of an excellent provider your husband is.”

You look away, flustered, and Manjiro laughs, the sound tinkling like a little bell in your ear.

You take the card, now back in the sleeve, from the scar-headed man’s hands, gingerly placing it in the breast pocket of your coat.

“Well I uh…thank you, Manjiro.”

The man hesitates, leveling you with a critical stare.

“No nickname for me?” You’re a little caught off guard by the question. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What, you want me to call you Mikey?”

“No, I want you to call me-”

“I am not calling you daddy or some shit like that.”

A snicker can be heard from the purple haired men, which is quickly silenced by a look from Manjiro.

“No, call me like you used to. When we were kids.”

You rack your brain trying to remember what other name there could be when the memory comes crashing into you.

“Mani?”

Visible only to you, a bright blush colors Manjiro’s cheeks, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

“There it is. I knew you remembered. Call me that from now on, yeah?”

You roll your eyes but the movement is fond. “Sure.”

After that, the scar-headed man gathers your things, and you’re escorted to the front of the residence.

As you leave, you notice that Manjiro doesn’t follow, and panic briefly bubbles up in your chest.

“Manji-! Mani,” you quickly correct yourself. “W-...will we see you again?”

The man is silent for some seconds, and you fear he’ll say no, before he walks over to you, leaning down and forward and placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“There’s a number on the inside of that sleeve. Memorise it, keep it somewhere safe. As I said before, whenever you need me, call me, and I’ll be right there.”

Manjiro sounds so certain, so reassuring, that for the umpteenth time today, you feel yourself about to cry.

A wobbly smile curves your mouth, and Manjiro returns it with a steadier one of his own.

“Remember you said that. I’ll be calling you pretty soon, you hear? Kgosi’s got his kindergarten graduation ceremony comin’ up and you had better be there.”

Mikey lifts his bandaged hand, laying it over his heart. “You have my word. Just send me the details when you get the chance.”

Satisfied, you turn and follow Mr. Scar out of the room and out to the car. Once you’ve got Kgosi settled, you turn to get into the passenger seat, finding Manjiro watching you from one of the windows.

You wave, and he returns it, and your heart begins to ache with the thought of having to be away from him again.

Pushing the pain aside, you slide into the front seat, and soon Mr. Scar is pulling out of the driveway.

The ride back proceeds smoothly, and some minutes into its duration, you turn to observe the scarred man.

At this point, you’re frankly sick of calling him that, so you decide to simply ask:

“What’s your name? No offense, but I’ve been calling you variations of “the scarred man” in my head since we met, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stop doing that.”

The man’s eyes slide toward you before sliding back to the road.

“Kakucho. You can also call me Hitto if that’s easier.”

You think on it for a moment, before finally settling for a name.

“Kaku!”

The car swerves slightly at your outburst, and you laugh at Kakucho’s expression.

“What, you don’t like it? I tend to nickname all the people I consider close, and I assume we’ll be getting to know each other at least a little more now that I’ve reinstated contact with Manjiro.”

You smile at him, and you can see the man fight down a smile in return.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You can just call me __ by the way, no need for formalities.”

Instead of contesting, the man only nods, and you relax back in your seat.

It feels like it’s becoming easier, accepting the notion of forgiving Manjiro. You don’t know the full story, and you can’t deny that you’re still somewhat wary of who and what he’s become, but you know that you still hold love for him, even despite it all. And if he wants to be there for Kgosi, well, even better.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokrev #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revenger x reader #mikey sano #x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #bonten #bonten timeline #bonten tokyo revengers

208 notes · View notes